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We fell for years.
Each passing second the air grew hotter and hotter until we roasted, scorched from the inside out. Blisters popped up over our skin as we continued to plummet down through the earth. Down to the deepest, most secure prison in creation.
I’d long since stopped screaming. York was another matter entirely. He continued to growl, to groan, to whimper, and I wondered if he had a secret fear of falling that he’d never told me about.
It didn’t matter either way. We could not return once we fell. There was only a very messy landing.
It became impossible to anticipate the crash, as well. The air around us was not only hot, stinking of sulfur, but a strange texture and consistency. Like...rotting pea soup left to curdle in the sun. Breathing it in made my body heavier, made me fall faster.
I’d lost considerable years off my interminably long life before I plummeted into the flaming waters of the Phlegethon. I crashed through the glass-like surface, the waters freezing my bones faster than liquid nitrogen. My lungs seized, my heart stalled, and I would have sunk into the despair crying out for release in my brain had York not grabbed my hand.
Grabbed me and pulled me to safety. As safe as one could get inside the darkest part of Hades’ domain. I swallowed and tried to stay conscious.
York whispered next to my ear, barely able to talk among the roiling waters. “We shouldn’t have come here.”
No, we should not.
I saw it now, the impossibility of the quest I’d laid before us. How utterly hopeless it had all been from the start. Was this why Xanthe hadn’t bothered to seriously stop me? Hadn’t bothered to send the vast army at her disposal to keep me from coming?
She thought I would kill myself in the process. Maybe she was right.
York swam with me until I gathered my wits, pushing through those frigid waves until we reached a shore.
I flopped onto my back and let the weight of the air press me down into the needle-like shards of sand making up the river’s bank. It roared past us, designed to punish the wicked and keep them in place, keep them contained to their endless eternity of torment.
The fire hadn’t burned us. The sparking embers sprayed from the river and singed the air, but it had been cold, overwhelming to my nerves. At least the river had broken our fall.
Stupid. This was the stupidest thing I could have done, and I’d asked York to do it with me.
What fate had I consigned him to?
Stupid, Vienna.
What would Wonder Woman do? Yeah, not this.
“We have to go.”
It was a struggle to force my body to move. I once again collapsed on the bank with my entire body shaking, wanting to shed a few tears and knowing the heat would burn them away before they had a chance to form. If we didn’t go now, we would implode. The faster we were on our way, the better for us, and the less likely an encounter with any unsavory characters.
If being this close to Tartarus was bad for me, I couldn’t imagine how it must feel for York. Then I pushed the thought from my head. Guilt wouldn’t help us find Crius faster.
“All right,” he croaked. “Lead the way.”
A never-ending gloom. What had I expected? Dark mist clouded the air. I turned my head to gaze up at the swirling gray haze above, the blood-colored mountain marking our entrance.
I shuddered, wrapping my arms around my chest. “We follow the river farther in. It’s not like we have many choices.”
When we’d first started, I hadn’t stopped to properly prepare. The logistics of the plan, the one I’d been so sure would succeed, were overwhelming. We had no way of locating my father now that we were here. I didn’t know how long it would take to get the key from the Hangman, and the moment we did we would be on his radar anyway.
Did time even work the same way down here?
York, God love him, said nothing as he followed me along the bank. He didn’t mention any of his concerns or how the odds were utterly stacked against us.
I loved him for that.
We were really inside of Tartarus. The last place I’d ever wanted to be. Across the acrid brown plain, the River Cocytus roared past like liquid bad dreams and sadness. What was it about this place and rivers?
Those waters, different from Phlegethon, pulled at me, drawing to the surface every nasty thought I’d ever had about myself. About everyone else in my life. They swamped me and threatened to push me to my knees.
Kalma had been right about the sulfur. It filled the air and stung my lungs, brought welts and boils to my skin.
The ground beneath my feet held sharp, jagged edges of what might have been obsidian pricking through the leather soles of my boots in an attempt to embed in my feet. The air was acrid, thick, the river water pure misery.
This was truly a prison, designed to inflict pain to the inhabitants. Designed to torture.
I drew in a rattling breath and wondered how anyone could stand it here without going completely and utterly mad. Crius’s sanity remained to be seen. I hoped to find him quickly and get out before I dropped dead.
“I’m regretting following you. I know I said I would follow you anywhere—” York broke off on a cough.
I managed a weak smile. “I’m glad you’re here. I have the feeling I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. It all seems like too much.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I’m about a second away from curling up on these glass shards and crying until I melt into the river,” he commented. “My wolf wants to roll over and show belly.”
But he wasn’t leaving, and I wasn’t alone. We were together. It brought a new level of determination to my ridiculous quest. I couldn’t give up because I refused to leave York behind.
“You’ve never told me, you know.” York took a deep breath.
“Told you what?”
“That you love me,” he said, his tone firm. Not at all what I’d expected. Had he felt the weight of my thoughts? “Bean, look at me.”
I lifted my gaze to him and his eyes burned with a mirroring fire, reflecting the river. It heated me to my core.
“You’re worried?”
“It’s on my mind, yes, because I need to focus on the future. I know you’re worried you made a mistake. I know you’re worried one or both of us won’t make it out of here. I need you to trust that things will work out. Have a little faith.”
“I’ve never been good with faith,” I admitted. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how you can be so sure.”
“I’m taking a page out of your book. I’m sure because you’re sure. And also because I care about you. Since my...turning...I never let myself be involved with a woman. There was too much guilt involved. With you, I can’t deny the connection and I’ve never tried to. Things are going to turn in our favor, V, because they have to. Because we’re together.” He stepped closer and ran his fingers along my cheek. His touch was like the cool breath of rain on a hot summer day. York tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, sending me a smile I knew hurt him. “You’re my life now. The least you can do is remember that.”
I grazed his arm with mine. Blisters aside, energy buzzed between us. Touching him, no matter where we were, did so much to soothe my soul. The connection between us, one I’d begrudged for so long, was light. Love. The essence of everything I wanted to protect.
“York—”
It happened fast. I would have been struck down hard if I’d been alone. York’s eyes locked on something to our left and I spun as a massive figure hurtled forward. It detached from the shadows, snarling, slamming into me with the force of a tanker.
I didn’t have time to think. Frozen, my senses were smothered by the atmosphere, by the pain leaching into me with every step.
The monstrous, snarling beast pressed me into the mountainside, the obsidian rocks slicing my back. Strong and indomitable as I was, I struggled to free myself from the fist squeezing my throat.
Scrambling when my feet left the ground, I used the rest of my strength to pry meaty fingers from my throat. Black dots floated in front of my vision and settled into one giant mass of darkness. Until I heard York scream.
He’d never made that sound before. It shouldn’t belong to a living creature. It was pure torment wrenched from deep inside of him. It made my skin crawl.
The man holding me leaned closer, and it wasn’t until our noses nearly touched that I saw his features. Grim yet satisfied. Yellowed teeth flashed in the thick air. His breath came out in a hiss.
“Fresh meat.”
The Hangman had found us.
He released me and I dropped to my knees, the impact cracking the ground beneath me. I drew in a breath, my tortured throat burning.
Move, Vienna. Move!
Getting to my feet, I forced a hard edge into my voice despite the unsettled feeling in my stomach. I couldn’t see much, one foot in front of the other, but I knew York stood close by.
And I knew the Hangman had him.
“Let him go!” My voice bounced back to me but it didn’t help me see any better. I tried to form a plan, hard to do with my everything aching and York’s terror coming through our blood bond clear as day.
Where are you?
A flicker of movement near the fiery bank caught my attention and I launched myself at it on an exhale, using whatever power I had left to leap the great distance. Landing on the Hangman’s back through a combination of experience and chance, I beat at his great shoulder blades, determined to shatter his spine.
He flicked me aside casually.
“You do me a great injustice by coming here.” The beast in question drew in a breath, his gaze moving over his shoulder and pinning me down to the ground.
I’d never experienced physical pain from a single look before.
I’d also never experienced a creature like the Hangman before.
He existed outside of time. Roughly eight feet tall, his back and shoulders were disproportionately large. I’d pictured a hooded figure wielding an ax, hiding his face from view. This man didn’t need either protection. The man’s hands were the size of small cars—an exaggeration, surely, but I’d felt their power—and his head bigger than my washing machine at home.
His great legs bent backward, covered in thick purple rivers I finally distinguished as veins. Bulging muscle pushed through the tunic he wore. The surface of his breastplate depicted scenes of agony: creatures being pulled into various positions of torture.
His arms, huge and bare, twisted and glistened.
“I can smell you, goddess half-breed,” he growled, nostrils flaring. “Like a flower in the desert. Like sweet honey.”
That crackling, roaring blast of sound had me shivering. “I’m no goddess,” I called out, crouching low and trying my best to find a way to bring him down.
I’d never been good at planning. Never been the best at step-by-step. I preferred to bulldoze my way into and out of any situation.
Brute force wouldn’t work with this one. Whatever he was, we shared the same strength. Which meant I needed to change tactics fast.
Cold sweat slithered down my back and I strained my senses trying to see, trying to keep from stumbling.
The mist shifted and I finally saw York. His left leg had been pierced through by three jagged shards of black glass rising from the river’s bank. No matter which way he turned, there was no way to get free without more damage.
“York!”
I forgot about the thin layer of fear binding me since our arrival in Greece. Fighting down a snarl, I raced to crush the Hangman’s head like a grape. Except he wouldn’t go down quite so easily.
“You’re going to want to pray to someone when I get hold of you,” I said, keeping my voice low. Knowing it carried.
The Hangman tilted his head back and laughed. His skin was waxy, white as bone, hair like the shaggy coat of an ox. The battered bronze breastplate he wore over rags of brown and gray. His eyes were pits of coal, dark and swallowing the dim light.
I gritted my teeth at the sound of his laughter, dodging first left and then right to distract him. I’d taken down a lot of monsters over the years. This one, this man with a silver key swinging from a chain on his neck, I hated more than most.
His fist shot out of nowhere and caught me in the midsection.
Tumbling a few steps back, I rose again, keeping balanced on the balls of my feet.
“You are a little firecracker. There is word on the wind that the children of Crius have the best sense of humor. Probably because he didn’t marry his sister, like some of the other Titans!” Again came the booming laugh. “You, of the lot of them, have proven to be surprisingly resilient. Hard to kill, are you? You’ve come far.”
“Are we going to stand around here all day discussing my parentage?” I boasted, staring up into his bloated face and trying to catch my breath.
The Hangman spread his arms. “We can if you want. From the way this one is bleeding out...you might want to hurry along with whatever grand speech you have prepared to impress me.”
His booming tones echoed off the cavernous walls.
We were a joke to him. We had come this far, yes, but our road ended at his feet.
I opened my mouth to respond in kind when the Hangman waved a hand and the smoky air rose in an umbrella above us, suspended. At once I saw everything with crystal clarity.
I saw the geysers of blood dripping out of massive wounds on York’s leg. I saw the flames rising from the river, three feet high bursts of blue-tipped fire rising along the edges. Worse, I saw the Hangman for his true self.
Deformed and powerful.
The glassy black terrain had been designed to hide all manner of traps for the unsuspecting. And York had fallen right into one.
My heart froze. We were running out of time. I steeled my shoulders, brows drawing down low. I refused to die here today. I’d always imagined ending my days in some other less memorable way. Perhaps surrounded by bowls of ice cream, or being trampled trying to meet the real-life actress who played Wonder Woman. Yes, either one of those sounded better than being gutted by the Hangman.
I had yet to meet an enemy I couldn’t defeat with force. Under different circumstances, I would have distracted the beast with some clever repartee before making my move. Except I somehow found it hard to form the words. I couldn’t even get my mouth to open.
Dimly aware of the monsters pressing closer in the mist around us, I fell silent and tried to figure out my next play. It had to be fast. We could have been ripped to pieces a thousand times over by now. York, groaning, almost had been. Instead, the rest of the horde of Tartarus kept their distance. Waiting for the Hangman to take care of us.
The lapdog to the god of the underworld flexed his fingers and examined me, a cruel child with a magnifying glass peering down at the ant.
“It is good to have a truly great opponent to spar with,” he said without inflection. He straightened his shoulders as though preparing for a fight. “That is, if your next move impresses me.”
His voice sounded like a recording played from across a vast space—as if the words were heard from a great distance instead of projected from his mouth.
We circled each other and I pointedly kept my attention off of York. His strangled cries made the action damn near impossible.
Hold on just a little longer while I try to think.
The Hangman took another long, deep inhalation. “Your fear smells wonderful,” he told me. “Delicious. A delectable dish I could happily sample for the rest of my days.”
“Look,” I replied, “whatever you want from me, take it. I’m prepared to give you what you want. In exchange for York’s safety.”
Hangman raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I have the power to stop this kind of bleeding? What is done, he did to himself. The only chance he has is a swift and painless death at my hands. That is a small mercy I can offer.”
I returned his stare, doing my best to breathe in the sulfur-scented air and not cough. “Save him. Name your price,” I insisted.
Emotionally, I felt much better when Hangman was the one to break first. What if we were in Tartarus with a slim chance of making it out alive and unscathed? I had the power to make the Hangman blink. And quite honestly, I was pissed we were in this mess. Kalma assured us we wouldn’t run into the Hangman until we were in place. This was not the place. I wanted the key and now I had to save York. Which meant bargaining.
My kind of bargaining ended with blood, of which I’d seen plenty already.
“You have nothing that I want, half-breed,” Hangman replied. The veins on his legs continued to pulse as we circled each other, neither of us gaining a clear upper hand.
“My name is Vienna Blue.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of you. Your half-siblings are not nearly as interesting as you. The bastard of a Fae and a Titan...” He craned his neck to get a better look at me, footsteps shaking the ground and causing bits of the mountain to splash into the river.
My heart crept into my throat. Even if I did manage to get York out of this, getting the key would not be easy.
“You’re an interesting breed,” he finished.
“I could say the same for you.” My insides coiled like a startled cat. “Whatever monster birthed you, you’re certainly in the right position, career-wise.”
“There wasn’t much of a choice. Tell me what you want from me, Vienna Blue, and we’ll try to come to an arrangement.”
The words fell from between his broken teeth and landed in a puddle in front of me. I shook off the grimace that wanted desperately to form on my face. Keep him talking. “Good to know there are still some in Tartarus capable of rational conversation.”
“You want to trade for his life? There might be something I can do.” Hangman gestured. “I’ll take the book at your back.”
What the what? I kept my hands fisted at my sides rather than give in to the impulse to touch the Carlisle.
“Are you insane?” There was no point in denying that I had the book, the better question being how he knew.
“Tartarus is full of monsters and demons. The only reason they are not tearing you to pieces at this point is my presence keeping them contained to their cells. You are not in a position to deny me anything I want. Even the book you fight to protect.”
I might not be in a position, but I wasn’t willing to give up my mother’s soul easily, not even with the dark horizon hiding all manner of sins waiting to devour me. I hesitated, trying to stall for time. “This is a treasured family heirloom,” I finally insisted.
The Hangman smiled. “It makes the prize sweeter.”
“Is it a prize if we trade? Fine, since we’re taking a side trip into la-la land, I want York’s life. And I want the key.” I used my nose to gesture. “To the cage.”
Ah, I had the power to surprise him. Score another point for me. The beast stopped moving, his massive steps coming to a surprising stop as he stared me down. “You must be mad.”
“Yes, but I insist,” I replied sweetly. “If you want the book, then I’ll take the key.”
“Vienna—” York began.
“And of course the life of my friend,” I finished.
“You are madder than most of my residents.” The Hangman scratched at his breastplate, gaze hot and calculating. “The key stays with me, Vienna Blue. Trade me the book, or I’ll kill this shifter beast.”
I forced my shoulders to shrug. “Fine. Kill him. I’m not giving up this book.”
“You would not trade the book for his life? His soul?”
Even the Hangman, who didn’t know us, found the decision hard to believe.
“I went to all this trouble to free my father. I won’t let anything—or anyone—stand in the way of that.” York, you’re going to have to forgive me for this one. I prayed he felt the heft of my emotions through our bond. Judging by the way he swayed and the pool of blood dripping toward the river, I’d say it was a slim possibility.
“Then you are truly your father’s daughter. Willing to sacrifice for the greater goal.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it. I’ve never met the man.” I remained stoic, hard-edged, refusing to back down. It took work concentrating on the Hangman rather than indulging in the temptation to rip out his throat.
“Do you truly not care if I let him die?” the Hangman clarified.
“Whatever happens,” I boasted, “I’m leaving with the key.”
I saw the outline of it for a moment, a flash of silver against the dull bronze of his armor before it disappeared. Around his neck, as promised.
The Hangman was just as insistent. “The book for his life. He doesn’t have long. I can heal him.”
“Ah, a second ago you said the only thing you could do for him was provide a speedy death. My, how your story changes.” In a purposeful display of my confidence—more like stupidity—I broke eye contact and glanced toward the river. Showing how little I cared for the Hangman or his power. “Or you can free him and he drinks from the river. Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.” I knew, from stories, Phlegethon could heal as well as hurt. It was a gamble. I prayed it would pay off. “You don’t know who you are dealing with,” I finished.
The Hangman clenched his fists at his sides. “Neither do you, child. For you are nothing but a speck on the infinite spectrum of time. I have been around longer than you could dream.”
“Then you must know how to read people. I’m not showing off. I can take that key from you.” I hoped my face didn’t betray me this time. “Deal with me and let him go.”
“For the book,” the Hangman stated, just as insistent. “The shifter won’t survive drinking of the river, that I can assure you. The only way he lives, if you value him, is by giving me what I want.”
I had no intention of giving him the Carlisle, not if I could help it. The thought of the loss was enough to shake whatever core of steel I had relied on until this point. I glanced at York, the electricity that normally ran between us humming in my belly, along my spine, tingling toward the ends of my fingers.
Memories of our time before crashed over me like a blast of tornado-level air. It filled my mind’s eye, images of him touching me—I could still feel the imprint of him inside—were infinitely out of place and more stirring than any fantasy.
What would I do if he died? If I could never again tug on our invisible connection?
“Release him,” I barked. My feet dug into the earth, creating a hole where I hadn’t wanted one. Bargaining could be a huge risk, possibly a stupid one. I had to be on my guard now.
“First I need the book.”
“How do I know you’ll hold up your end of the deal?”
“I haven’t lived this long going back on my word. You have it, on my honor, your lover will be free to kill himself another day. Give me the book, Vienna Blue, and you can both be on your way.”
“You won’t try to stop us?”
His smile turned gruesome. He spoke in a low, nearly unintelligible rumble. I heard him just the same. “I did not say that.”
I had no further bargaining chips left to hand over. With a heavy heart I reached back to unclasp the latch keeping the book safely strapped to me.
I’m sorry, Mother.
It had to be this way. My hands shook as I handed it over, the Hangman’s massive palm dwarfing mine.
He took his time studying me. At last, he inclined his head in a silent agreement. A snap of his fingers brought the glass shards back into the scorched earth.
The moment he was free, York shifted, fangs bursting through his jaw in a silent scream of rage. He launched himself at the Hangman.
“York, no!”