| |
“Wake up.”
Epimetheus knew the voice. Rhea. Kronos’ soulmate.
His thoughts muddled, he tried to open his eyes, but wet pressure against his eyelids made him stop. Where was he? His last memory was of fighting Kronos. And the bastard won. Had he thought Epimetheus dead and buried him?
There was something after that. Like he was awake, and then...
“Wake up and kill the girl. It’s easy. Snap her neck, and you’ll be free.” Rhea’s tone was emotionless. As if she were talking about snapping a twig, not ending a life.
But whose life? Was the girl Rhea referred to here with him? Why was his head so fuzzy?
“Where am I?” he tried to ask, but dirt filled his mouth. So he was buried. He wasn’t worried—Titans didn’t need to breathe—but it tasted like ash and blood and soured his mood. Sputtering made things worse, and trapped at his sides, his hands wouldn’t obey him to wipe his mouth. If he was at his full strength, he could rip his way through the earth, but he’d rather not test his power when Rhea was nearby. Her loyalties were questionable. He bit back his annoyance and repeated his question mentally, aiming it at her.
“In the ground of Pelion, where Kronos put you. Don’t blame yourself for losing. Madness made him stronger.”
Stronger or not, Kronos might have lost if he hadn’t cheated. Epimetheus hadn’t realized his older brother’s invitation was a trap, until it was too late. He’d believed Kronos honestly wanted him to broker peace between Olympians and Titans. Then again, Epimetheus always had a blind spot for those he loved. A hollow ache pinged in his chest, where he’d buried the memory of Pandora, the only female he ever loved. The one blamed for every misfortune that befell the human race.
But he was done mourning her, and this wasn’t the time for reminiscing. He had to focus on freeing himself, but he wasn’t the thinker; Atlas was. Epimetheus was good at building things with his hands. Better at destroying them.
He concentrated on the now and on Rhea. “And what do you want? You here to gloat for your man? Or maybe beg me not to rip him limb from limb when I get out?” he asked. His fingers met with resistance, but he flexed them anyway. The ground containing him shifted. He still had his power. If he didn’t care about drawing attention from Titans and gods alike, he’d burst his way out now.
Rhea gave a tortured sigh. “You’re too late. Zeus took care of him for you. I’m only here to warn you. The curse your brother put on you isn’t done unfolding yet. He means to torture you, even from Tartarus. You have to kill the woman he sent for you on sight. Only then will you be truly free.”
The gods’ sending him a woman the first time around had been a scheme to both punish humans for having fire, and him for being one of the two Titans who bestowed such a gift upon mortals. The gods knew Pandora would open the jar; they’d created her full of curiosity for exactly that reason. Did Kronos think him such a fool, to fall for it once more? Epimetheus wouldn’t be anyone’s pawn ever again.
But he’d loved every moment he spent with Pandora. He wouldn’t trade their time together for the world.
Pain, too old to be this intense, tightened in his gut, and the earth surrounding him like a cocoon shook again. His hands trembled, and he instinctively pulled his arms closer to his body. The movement was easy, compared to minutes ago, the dirt more loosely packed now. And if a quake gave him more room, reducing his mass would make digging himself out easier. Assuming he was right side up and wouldn’t be heading toward Tartarus instead. Eh, if this didn’t work, he’d use his full strength to dislodge the burden pressing down on him, stealth be damned.
“That’s it,” Rhea hissed in his mind.
As he surfaced to complete awareness, her voice faded from his mind. Made sense. He had a mental link with his twin and could occasionally hold conversations with his other brothers, when they were open to it, but never with a Titaness.
He’d had a mental link with Pandora.
Much good that did him; he hadn’t read her intentions, nor had he kept the guilt from eating at her until her old age.
Pandora was gone, and he was still here. And he wouldn’t rest until he saw for himself that Kronos was dead.
Now fully in control of his thoughts and his body, he could blink anywhere in the world. He considered it for a moment. He didn’t know where he was, and he was curious. He’d blink home after he was out. He shrunk his form to a human size and swiveled, kicking his legs. He moved faster than the dirt poured down to fill the void, propelling himself upward.
Fresh air hit his skin and nostrils. It smelled... different. Darker, somehow. Thicker, with a hint of smoke. And was there an oily undertone to the scent? He shook his head from side to side, ordering a gust of wind to clean the dirt from his face and long hair, before finally opening his eyes.
His night vision was perfectly clear, so there was no doubt in his mind he saw what he did. A dekapous from him stood a female—the one Rhea wanted him to kill, no doubt—beside a beast he’d never laid eyes on before. It was the blue of the sea when the moon glinted off its surface, with round eyes that glowed like the sun.
No creature he’d come upon till this moment had been able to physically harm him, other than his own brothers, but for all Epimetheus knew, this might be something Kronos imbued with unprecedented power. And despite the novelty and possible danger the thing presented, Epimetheus’ gaze kept sliding back to the female.
Her legs were fully covered in a form-fitting wrap made of cloth as dark as the evening sky, and on her torso and arms, she wore a tight, short, blood-red chiton that left her slender neck and the sun-kissed swell of her breasts bare to his inquiring gaze. And the face above that... He hissed a breath at the perfection of her rosy cheeks, her full lips, and wide eyes—as rich a brown as that of the soil around him. She batted her long eyelashes rapidly, in confusion and... fear?
“Kill her. Kill her.” The memory of Rhea’s voice echoed in his skull. Was it true this beguiling creature was sent by Kronos? But if she was meant to destroy him, would she be staring at him this way?
He blinked across the distance between them and towered over her. He could hear her heart hammering in her lovely chest, and a sniff confirmed that she was terrified of him. Except she wasn’t moving. Not trying to run away. She licked her lips and held his gaze.
“Who are you?” he asked. “What do you want of me?”
She frowned and shook her head, a few tufts of honey-colored hair escaping her simple updo. She said something that sounded like, Den katalaveno. What language did she speak?
He repeated his question, and when she squinted at him and took a step back, thumped his chest with his open palm. “Epimetheus, brother of Prometheus,” he said.
The woman looked startled, but a flash of recognition flashed across her face. So she did know him? She was sent for him. He squeezed his hands into fists. He should kill her. Part of him screamed that he needed to, but he wasn’t used to killing indiscriminately, especially humans who had no chance against him. Besides, why would any human work for Kronos? They were created to support gods’, not Titans’, rule over the world.
And apparently he wasn’t that in control of his functions, because he hadn’t even considered reading her mind till this very minute. Fast as lightning, he clasped her forearms and looked deep into her eyes. “Show me,” he ordered mentally.
And got nothing for his troubles, except for a terrified woman fainting in his arms.