Melancton was waylaid the moment he crossed the threshold into the room to determine if Calix's boasts lived up to the talk. He should have foreseen it when nothing but silence greeted him upon the fourth floor. Should have interpreted the longsword laying in the middle of an empty room as a sign. Should have known the crazy bastard had a trick up his sleeve and was unafraid to play dirty. Yet Melancton had been too preoccupied worrying about Daphne leaving the inn later and wasn't paying attention. The painful reminder only made him more determined to kick Arcadian ass.
When he'd first entered the room, he didn't notice that Calix had utilized the thick wooden doorframes of the adjacent exit to the hall and the one to the closet as a perch. Then he'd dropped onto Melancton's shoulders, knocking him face down to the floor before rolling off and brandishing his sword in a stance which bespoke of so much confidence the room became thick with it.
Melancton brushed himself off as he stood. Removing his panpipes and shirt, he tossed them to the side and retrieved the Viking longsword from the center of the room. Though he hadn't used a glamour, he kept the panpipes with him regardless as he didn't want to form a habit of forgetting them. Calix hadn't brought anything but himself and his sword, showing off his golden tufted ankles in his satyr form by only wearing a pair of shorts that covered his knees. His chest revealed a surprising amount of scars, including a particularly nasty one over his heart. Something would have succeeded in killing him if they'd known to decapitate him after.
"That was unsporting."
Calix grinned. "You're only saying that because you were up close and personal with hardwood. Secretly—deep, deep down—you're in awe. Admit it. You didn't see it coming." Calix tilted his head and pointed his sword tip at him. "Nice battle scars, Heracles. Any cool stories?" He smoothed a hand over the large, jagged one Melancton had noted. "Attila. Asshole fucking laughed. I've never let another opponent come so close to cappin' me since."
Melancton raised a brow. "Is this a competition over who has the biggest scar, or are you attempting to use intimidation tactics? Perhaps you are seeking some method of approval, hence the namedropping."
Calix threw his head back and laughed. "I like you. At first you seemed uptight, but you're a bit of a badass. Hermes says you were stuck in Fort Dion against your better judgment, so I won't hold you to it. But you won't win this fight." He braced his legs and flexed his fingers around his sword.
"I am beginning to question why Attila went for the heart and not the larynx."
"Got jokes? Dude, it's totally on right now," Calix proclaimed and began to stalk him. His butchery of the English language made Melancton wince. He was right, however. Calix could pass as a college student easily, which would make sense that he adapted his language to fit the role.
Melancton acted as though he were not ready to begin their session. Best to take Calix unaware. He was supposed to be on the defensive in this fight, Calix offensive, but after the stunt in the doorway, no. He would turn the tables, but not quite yet.
First, he'd keep Calix talking, which shouldn't be difficult. He'd allow Calix to become comfortable thinking he had him pegged. Then he'd strike. Fighters learn from their defeats. It was how they knew which mistakes they could never repeat. If the Attila story was true, then Calix had skill. Even though he'd lost that battle, he'd gotten close enough to go head to head with the renowned warrior.
So Melancton decided his method to keep Calix distracted would be stooping to his level. Bragging and namedropping. "What if I shared a secret nobody aside from Daphne knows?"
Calix narrowed his eyes, but as the curiosity dug in, he rubbed his chin while stalking around him, trying to figure out what Melancton was about. "Hmmmm. I'm flattered, really, but I'm gonna pass on this secret desire for a threesome. You know the third should always be someone you don't know or it becomes awkward."
Ah, the age-old attempt to ruffle feathers routine. Melancton wondered if Calix learned it from Orestes or vice versa. More than likely they developed it simultaneously. Gods, Melancton almost felt sorry for their opponents from the past.
"The night of the curse, I was preparing for war. A general approached me and bade me to leave with him."
"I tried telling Orestes that numerous Greek officers were gay. He didn't believe me."
Melancton ignored him, pretending to be interested in the design of the short crossguard and the wide pommel on his sword. "The general wasn't of the Athenian army at all." He met Calix's gaze. "He was Ares."
The smirk on Calix's face faded. "I call bullshit. If Ares tapped you to be one of his golden boys of war, you wouldn't have gone to Kithairon. You'd have gone to that war instead. And then Disney would make you into an animated movie where you're voiced by Chris Hemsworth."
Melancton shook his head. "Not if Dionysus called in a favor with Ares."
"You're shittin' me." Calix continued circling him. "You're saying Dionysus fucked up your chance to be an epic war hero because he wanted you to watch him de-virginize some dude's fiancée? That's the absolute worst made-up story I ever heard. In fact, it's pretty lame."
"Unfortunately..." Melancton struck. He kicked the sword out of Calix's hand, grabbed his neck and slammed him into the ground on his back, pointing his sword to his chest, over the scar left from Attila. "It is a true story. I only left out the romance between Daphne and myself."
Calix glanced from the sword tip to Melancton and back, a grudging respect evident in his eyes. "Again with the throat grabbing. Is that like your M.O.? Really, bro. I can't believe you disarmed me using my method of distraction, and we hadn't even started yet! Not sure whether to respect you or want to demand a rematch. When are you scheduled to fight Vander?"
"This evening." It would take his mind off worrying about Daphne and London leaving in the dead of night. With the amount of humans circling the inn on ghost tours after dark, they couldn't afford for one of the satyrs to be seen. Regardless, he had to trust her to stay safe in his absence. She deserved some freedoms of her own.
Calix chuckled at something he did not share with Melancton. "Let me know when you guys start because I want to witness this."
"I would have expected you to be more concerned I would injure your prince than watching it occur."
"Oh, something's going to occur all right." Calix pushed Melancton's blade aside. Melancton helped the satyr up but couldn't shake the feeling there was some hidden meaning in the statement he couldn't decipher. What skill did Vander hide that Calix was alluding to?
"Until then, Boeotian. That round was bogus. No effort. Neither of us even worked up a sweat. Rematch, but this time, cut the crap." Calix retrieved his sword.
As soon as Apollo flashed them into Brazil, Bremusa stiffened. She studied her surroundings, on high alert as though expecting something to leap out at her. She'd been doing that a lot when they appeared in unpopulated areas. Every forest made her uneasy. Mountain ranges caused her to pace. Peculiar.
"Anything?" he asked. They agreed to try somewhere not close to where the axe was located, and so they'd been checking jungles. As they had already checked the Australian rainforest, Apollo thought South America would be a decent place to hide a nymph. At over two million square miles, the Amazon was vast and the canopy so thick in places even he had a hard time seeing what lurked during the day when he searched using his powers. Which meant Daphne could hide from him there easily.
Apollo didn't care for jungles so much. Too many trees, not enough sun. He supposed Melancton and Daphne could survive there, but it would be a dangerous life. And that is why he had doubts they would uncover anything while there, despite the signs hinting otherwise.
Bremusa continued scrutinizing their surroundings. "Not here. Where are we?"
"The Amazon."
If it was possible to tense up any more, she did. "Next location. Let's do this search, fast. Lingering would be a mistake."
He started to question when she placed a palm over his elbow, waiting for him to comply. Once he flashed her to a new location on the bank of the Amazon riverbed, she didn't seem to ease up.
"What's your deal?"
At first, Apollo didn't think she would answer, but then she bit out, "This place is named the same as my mother's race. Therefore, I do not trust what may be living here. I don't believe in coincidence. You and I both know those bitches, the Fates, have their hands in an awful lot of cookie jars, and I will not linger here if I can help it. The scent of threats surround us. Animal and...non-human. Old. Immortal." The unspoken "familiar" hung in the air as thick as the humidity.
"How very ominous. Care to elucidate on whatever has you spooked?"
She glared and didn't offer any clarifications. However, she didn't have to. The tall grass next to the river rustled, and Apollo wondered if maybe she hadn't been paranoid in her whole no-such-thing-as-coincidence spiel. Bremusa drew two of her daggers and braced her legs apart, waiting. She'd worn a pair of black jeans and tall black boots today. Her white tank top grew damp from perspiration. She hadn't worn a bra.
Her nostrils flared and she said, "Mortal, but old blood. This is a scout." She glanced at him and curled her lip. "If you are quite finished staring your fill, can we leave before—"
More rustling. Bremusa bent her knees, one dagger was held blade up, the other downward. She was preparing to do the most damage she could in whatever way required. Apollo found himself quite enthralled.
"A scout? Please. It's just an animal. This place is filled with...them."
A colossal snake stuck its head out of the tall grass growing out of the water, it's long, forked tongue flicking. Anaconda most likely, given the locale. It stared at them with black eyes, and its greenish brown scaly skin appeared shiny as it tilted its head and studied Apollo, and then Bremusa. Its tongue flicked more rapidly. Darting out, sucking back in. Tasting the air to smell them better.
It recognizes her scent. Apollo's jaw slackened, and he tensed.
The snake slithered closer. It was much larger than Apollo had first realized, larger than he thought anacondas should be. I thought the giant constrictors were lost long ago.
Don't be dense. Vrykolakas should no longer exist, and yet you are standing inches away from one. Clearly there were a lot of secrets Zeus and Hera kept buried. All the known serpent monsters from ancient times were hybrids. The giant serpents and dragons of prehistoric times pre-dated Olympians.
But not the Titans, or the Primordials before them.
If he were a superstitious being, he'd call this a harbinger, a sign of impending trouble. He wasn't, and coincidences did happen, and he didn't have time to think about it anyway because the snake lunged forward at the same time Bremusa threw her dagger. It sank into its head, directly between the eyes. The snake dropped, twitching slightly. A great tail caused wave-like ripples in the water. Then the flailing ceased and all was still.
Bremusa's reflection shone in its glassy eyes as she retrieved her dagger, wiping it clean with a jungle leaf. The serpent's head was about the size of a full-grown pit bull, and its body reached her knees in height off the ground.
"We have to get out of here," she said. "Forget the search in this area. If we cannot locate her anywhere else, then we will return. Otherwise, it is not worth the risk."
"Are you afraid of snakes?" Apollo asked, completely baffled. She'd called it a scout with old blood. What did it mean?
"In case you haven't noticed, this is not a normal snake. And there may be more."
A hiss sounded farther down the bank. A splash. Another serpent appeared, this one slithering all the way into the open. It seemed to realize its companion was done for and reared up to stare Bremusa down.
Either there were a number of highly intelligent and territorial giant snakes in Brazil, or something controlled these animals. A powerful immortal or deity, not necessarily from the Greek pantheon. If it was indeed a scout for a powerful entity, who did it work for?
Bremusa bared her fangs at the snake as it opened its own mouth in challenge. Long fangs glinted, sharp as knives. Apollo backed away, disbelieving. He hadn't seen a battle with a beast this size in centuries, and he was dumbstruck by the spectacle.
Does Zeus know these serpents are here?
Not waiting for the snake to make its move, Bremusa flung herself at the reptile, which coiled around her torso from her chest down so fast he could barely blink. The fight was short-lived. She'd managed to keep her arms free and used her dagger blades as shears, cutting its head off. Had she not had superhuman strength, it likely wouldn't have worked. Apollo stared at the lifeless body as Bremusa gasped for air from between nearly forty feet of twisted constrictor, half expecting three heads to grow back where the first one had been. Like a Hydra.
"Ahh"—gasp—"pollo."
She was trapped. Apollo rushed over and began peeling the coils off of her. "Explain," he asked as he freed her to her waist. Gulping air, she didn't move at first, and he loosened the ones around her knees and ankles. They were probably broken. He stared at the woman with a newfound respect. Artemis would approve of this woman. She was fearless.
Purple bruises on the swell of her hip between the hems of her pants and tank top revealed where the snake had cracked ribs. Still, she survived.
"Will blood help?"
Her gaze met his, and she nodded her head once.
Apollo pulled one of her daggers from her hand, using the leg of his jeans to wipe the snake blood off, and slit his wrist. "Sorry, wrist is more convenient right now. You can maul my neck the next time you are crushed by a monster snake."
No argument met him as he placed his open cut to her mouth and she drank. While she did, he pocketed her dagger. A minute passed before she pushed his arm away.
"Thanks." She stole her dagger back and spat at the snake.
"Don't men—what's wrong now?"
Her head whipped around, and she sprinted through the brush after a threat only she seemed to have noticed, out of his line of sight. Just like a woman: using him until she can walk again, and then running off without a word of gratitude. Cursing, he chased after her. "Seriously?" he muttered under his breath. "Crushed by a snake not even ten minutes ago and is chasing invisible dangers in the jungle when, before, she'd been asking to leave."
Ahead, in the trees, a feminine shape leapt from branch to branch, disappearing into the rainforest canopy. At first, he'd thought it was Bremusa, was about to call out to her, but then a hand closed over his mouth.
"Shut up," she hissed and abandoned him to climb the nearest tree with a dagger gripped between her teeth, the other apparently sheathed.
His appreciation of the spectacle did not last long as a creature dared to attack him from behind. Apollo was so taken off guard that it managed to sink its claws into his shoulders before he could react and yanked him backward. Apollo twisted and then recoiled at the sight of a grisly, pale, wraithlike female with eyes glowing as Bremusa's often did. The tang of cold mud and musty river water filled his nostrils. Fangs bared, the creature tried to bite his neck, but he expelled a burst of energy outward, blasting her away. Bremusa dropped out of the trees and stood between him and the wraith with its gray hair and withered features.
"You lured her here when you fed me," Bremusa threw over her shoulder. "She thinks you rang the dinner bell for her. God blood is the equivalent of an ice cream sundae with hot fudge and a cherry on top."
His attempt to provide a roguish smile at the compliment came out as a grimace.
Bremusa and the creature crashed together. A scream sounded. Blood spilled. The creature ripped the flesh of Bremusa's bicep with its fangs and received a dagger through the bottom of her chin in response. Shoving it off her, Bremusa stood, staggered, and Apollo caught her, supporting her weight.
"Can you set the body on fire?" she asked, voice faltering.
"Yes, but..."
"Incinerate her before she heals. Do it."
Apollo squinted at the wraith and willed its torn clothing to ignite. Flames burst forward, spreading rapidly. Bremusa stumbled again. In truth, his power was depleted between the magic use and blood loss. Calling forth fire was not as easy as it seemed, even at full capacity.
"Get us out of here. I lost the other one. I came back as this one attacked you, but if we stay, she'll find us. She knows we're here. I took out the scouts, but the other female has my scent now. Both our scents."
"I don't follow. Who was that you chased? What are these creatures?"
"Vrykolakas."
He scoffed. "You don't look anything like that."
Bremusa's features twisted up and then relaxed. "I have Lycaon blood. The wolf gene dominates my form when I have gone without feeding." She motioned at the body before her. "This is what I would look like otherwise. When they drink blood, they will look normal too."
Her eyes grew wide, and she scanned the trees around them. "Apollo, she's coming! Get us out of here!" She clawed at his arm. "Now!"
A piercing battle cry ripped through the air in the distance, and then other cries joined it, moving in their direction.
Fuck this. Apollo grabbed ahold of Bremusa and flashed them back to the hotel. Hopefully Daphne and Melancton really weren't in Brazil, because he had no plans on returning.
Bremusa retreated to the bathroom. Apollo had never seen her so alarmed. If something frightened her, it had to be bad news.
He wandered to the bathroom to check on her and found that she'd climbed into the tub and stood there, back against the wall, daggers drawn. She had a wild look in her eye. A caged tiger, fighting to survive. The wound on her bicep had already ceased bleeding.
"Who was coming? Who is after you?" he pushed. "The vrykolakas you lost when you came back to help me?" It had sounded like more than one.
Bremusa met his gaze but didn't seem to see him. "Lamia was approaching, along with her vrykolakas. I sensed her in the air, and you heard the others. They are of little import, but Lamia knows I am alive now. She'll come for me. After her gift is bestowed, you are considered part of her army. Abandoning her is a death sentence."
Apollo scratched his chin as he contemplated her words. She'd been locked in a cave where no one could enter or exit without Dionysus' permission. Had she made a deal with the wine god for protection from Lamia? One which had obviously not gone the way she'd planned.
"Oh," was all Apollo could say. At least now he understood why she'd been paranoid in some locations but not in others. She could sense her own kind, worried someone would run to their master and lead her back to Bremusa. Had there been vrykolakas elsewhere or was it the scent of old blood that made her uneasy?
"Lamia is only part of the problem. Those snakes had a particular scent to them. One most monsters carried if they came from the same mother."
A bad feeling settled in his gut. "What scent?"
"Old, decay but...not, soil from so far into the ground, fossils have yet to be recovered there. The daughter Gaia and Tartarus refused to acknowledge, left abandoned within the earth to rot. I've never met her, but I've scented her and heard the stories. In the forests where Lamia once lived with us. Perhaps they were working together even then. I didn't stay long enough to find out."
"That's impossible."
"Echidna is still mothering monsters somewhere in this world, Apollo. Those snakes reeked of her bloodline."
"You don't understand. I killed Echidna. Me. I shot her in the heart with an arrow to keep her out of Delphi. She wasn't a goddess, or even full Titan, which is why her parents refused to claim her. She was an immortal nymph. One that was created wrong." Her lower body was that of a serpent, whereas her upper half had been a beautiful woman.
"Did you remove her head?"
"Of course, I—" he paused. Had he removed her head? It was so long ago, and he was fuzzy on the details. "I'm quite certain I wouldn't have forgotten."
"Obviously, you fucked that up."
The muscles in his jaw tightened. Echidna was dead, and that was all there was to it. "You could have told me. I could have looked for ways to avoid them."
The look she gave him did not seem convinced.
"I'm staying here with you tonight." While he doubted Echidna's involvement, Lamia very well could be a threat. He told himself he was only worried they would ruin his mission to find Daphne before it could be seen through. Of course, that had to be the only explanation.
Bremusa curled her lip. "I'm fine. Queen Bitch cannot flash herself at will, neither can my kind. Echidna can, but I don't think she'd risk exposure. However, Lamia's probably informing every other contact she has to look for me." She shook her head. "I told you. I freaking told you! A place called Amazon? No coincidences. Ever."
"Lamia was not an Amazon. I know that much."
"No, but she loved creating her army of minions from my people. Strong women. Warrior women." She huffed. "I'm fine. Let us change clothing and continue our hunt, away from the Amazon. The sooner we find your nymph, the sooner I am free to keep myself out of that psychotic bitch's grasp."
Apollo turned and entered the bedroom area. He enjoyed Bremusa's company, and had looked forward to parting ways at the end of their mission. The one thing he hadn't anticipated? Worrying about what would happen after that day came. Nevertheless, Lamia was not his concern, Bremusa either for that matter. He would do well to remember it.
So why did he find himself perched in a chair, facing the door, prepared to defend the fierce female he left hiding in the bathroom?