Page 30 of Gods and Graves

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

EVERETT

W e walk down another narrow passage, the walls damp and slick. I fucking hate it here—how the walls seem to close in on me, how quiet it is, how stiff the air has become. The beast inside of me growls, desperate to break free, even knowing he’s too damn big to fit.

I hate everything about this place, but I’ll endure it a thousand times over if it means saving Thea.

Thea.

Even thinking her name has an emotion gnawing at the edges of my thoughts, crawling in the pit of my stomach.

Protect.

Possess.

She’s walking a little slower than usual, though Zaid and Krystian both easily keep pace with her. Her hands are fidgeting at her sides, twitching, like she’s trying to hold herself together but losing the fight. Or maybe she’s reaching for a dagger that’s no longer there.

We all unanimously agreed that Thea will no longer get any weapons. Not until we can figure out what happened back there with the oracle.

She begins to mutter to herself, barely above a whisper, and my black heart cracks just a little.

“No, please. Don’t…” She places her hands over her ears and rocks slightly. “Stop it. Leave me alone.”

Her gaze flickers from side to side as tears form in her eyes.

“Thea?” Zaid says gently, reaching for her hand the way he has done countless times before.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” she screams, stumbling away until her back is flush against the cave wall.

Her gaze fixes on something in the shadows ahead, her pupils dilated. Her lips move again, but this time, I can’t detect a word she’s saying.

“Love…” Krystian tries, his features pained.

Her breath quickens with fear, and the sound makes my heart rate spike. My instincts demand I rush towards her, pull her into my arms, and assure her she’s safe, but I hold myself back. If she won’t even let Krystian and Zaid near her, then she sure as fuck isn’t going to allow me to touch her.

Rafe moves beside me, his jaw clenched so tightly I wouldn’t be surprised if he chipped a tooth. His hands curl and uncurl into fists repeatedly by his sides.

“When I find out who did this to her…” He allows the threat to hang unspoken in the air.

Darkness—madness—percolates in his dark-brown eyes.

“They’ll die,” I agree easily.

And I won’t make it a quick death, either.

“Please don’t touch me. Please.” Thea curls into a ball and begins to sob.

And I make a vow right then and there that the person behind this will pay for each and every one of those heartbreaking cries. I already planned to torture the fucker, but I’ll take my time. Make it last for weeks, if not months. I am immortal, after all. I have nothing but time.

Thea’s head whips up abruptly, and she focuses on something just over Zaid’s shoulder, something I can’t see.

“Do you see that?” Her voice borders on desperation.

“There’s nothing there, sweetheart.” Zaid smooths back her golden hair.

“No. No. No. There’s something there.” The tears cascade faster and faster. “It’s coming towards me. Get it away! Get it away!”

She kicks at the air and then screams, focusing on her leg as if she sees something crawling up it.

“Thea! Baby! There is nothing on you! I promise!” Krystian grips her cheeks and forces her gaze to his. “You know I would never lie to you.”

“How can you say that?” she sobs, wrenching her head away. “I can feel it on my skin. No…under my skin. Oh god.”

Her fingernails rake against the inside of her wrist. Then she starts to pull at her skin, drawing blood.

“Fuck! No!” Zaid pulls her hand away. “Stop hurting yourself!”

“I need to get it out! Please, Zaid. Let me get it out. It hurts. It hurts so bad.” More blood oozes from the wound, steadily dripping onto the floor beneath her.

Rafe, his features carefully impassive, steps forward and removes his backpack. He grabs gauze and tape and kneels before the trembling reaper.

“I can’t lie,” he whispers, his voice as blank as his expression. “So listen to me carefully—there is nothing on you. Nothing inside of you. You’re safe, Thea. You’re with us.”

Thea sniffles and glances at him. No, not at him. Over him. She’s lost, gone somewhere that none of us can follow.

And that fucking terrifies me.

Rafe begins to address her bloody wound, his touch unexpectedly gentle. I’ve never seen the psychotic asshole behave like this. He treats her like she’s something precious, something he wishes to treasure until his dying days.

A lump forms in my throat.

Thea may be here with us, but she’s not with us anymore. Not really. And until we can figure out how to save her, she’ll be stuck like this.

Trapped within her own mind.

I’m moving before I can think better of it and kneeling before her. Krystian shoots me a warning look, his eyes wide with panic, and Zaid simply sniffles and looks away. Rafe refuses to even acknowledge my presence, his gaze intent on her wrist.

“Listen to me, Thea, or so help me…”

Her gaze moves almost mechanically to mine. She’s shaking, her body trembling like a leaf in a storm, and her breath hitches slightly. But she doesn’t pull her gaze away.

“I know I can be an asshole, but haven’t I always looked after you? I did it then, and I’ll do it now. I gave you my promise, and I intend to keep it. You’re safe, Thea. You’re with people who…care about you. So tell those voices in your head to fuck right off and come back to me. Please.”

For a split second, she’s there—the girl I’ve come to know, admire, and despise. The reaper. The one who I can’t stand because she makes me feel too much.

But then her gaze shifts again, flaring with that hollowed-out look, and I can practically feel her pull away. She’s lost in a world only she can see, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.

“Come on, Thea,” I say, my voice breaking against the weight of everything I’m holding back. “You’re not alone, okay? You’re not alone.”

Her eyes don’t focus. They flicker—distant and lost.

“I’m alone. They tell me I’m alone. So, so alone,” she whispers, barely audible. “Alone, alone, alone, alone.”

I swallow hard, willing myself not to panic. This is Thea, for fuck’s sake. I can’t give up on her. I won’t. She’s the same woman I’ve been silently protecting, the one I’ve been pushing away since she first batted those long lashes at me.

“Can you walk, baby?” I ask gently, helping her to her feet.

The term of endearment slips out before I can think better of it. Fortunately, no one pays me any attention.

Thea nods mutely, a tiny bit of coherence flaring to life in her eyes. “Yes.”

“Let’s go,” I say, giving Krystian and Zaid a pointed look.

They’ll look after Thea, while Rafe and I will look after them.

We move down a series of pathways until we reach another chamber.

A loom stands at the very center like an ancient monolithic relic, pulsing with an eerie light that bends the shadows around it. It’s not like any loom I’ve ever seen. This isn’t something you’d find in a workshop, tucked away behind a curtain to collect dust.

No, this thing is alive in a way that makes my skin crawl, like it’s been here long before we arrived and will be here long after we’re gone.

It’s massive—taller than even me, with threads of glowing light weaving throughout the air in intricate patterns that almost seem to shift as I watch them.

The frame of the loom itself is made of polished obsidian, smooth and glossy. At first, the threads don’t seem to have any rhyme or reason. They’re just delicate strands of glowing light, crossing and weaving together at random.

But when I look closer, I realize they form a kind of tapestry—a tapestry that moves, the images blurring before my very eyes. It’s unsettling. There's a rhythm to it, but it’s a rhythm that doesn’t make any sense.

“What the fuck is this?” I demand, whirling towards my brothers and the reaper.

But they’re no longer there.

“What the hell?” I bellow, realizing I’m alone.

Where the fuck did they go? Is it Thea? Did something happen?

Impulse demands I turn around. Find them.

But I can’t move.

The loom won’t let me.

I feel it in my bones when I stare at it. A cold, metallic taste spreads through my mouth.

Each thread pulses slightly, almost as if they’re alive, and weaves together intricate images. So fast it’s hard for me to make sense of them. Fragments of memories—flashes of people, places, and faces that I recognize but can’t put a name to. It’s like the loom is weaving through time itself.

And the sound…

It’s a strange melody, like weaving the threads together is also weaving the air around us.

A soft, aching hum permeates the air and vibrates in my chest. It’s unnerving and pulls at something deep inside of me, at a place I try to ignore.

It’s as though the loom is singing to me, calling me to see it. To see everything.

“What do you want me to see?” I demand, curling my hands into fists. “Hurry the fuck up!”

A delicate, soft thread of light slides forward, wrapping itself around my wrist. Panic sets in, and I try to pull back, but the thread doesn’t loosen. And as I’m trapped in its hold, the world around me shifts, turning inwards.

Suddenly, I’m no longer standing in this cold, winding maze.

I’m back at home—my childhood home.

“Again,” my father instructs, nodding towards the wooden practice sword I dropped.

Ever since I’ve been marked by Ares, my father has been training me to fight. To survive.

I don’t officially start training until I reach puberty, but that hasn’t stopped my father. In his mind, there’s no reason for me to have a childhood, not when my future is already so certain.

I parry each blow he delivers my way, sweat beading on my temples. But then Dad sweeps his sword towards my legs, and there’s nothing I can do but accept the hit. I fall onto my ass, staring up at the blue sky.

Father stands over me, his eyes heavy and full of disappointment. “Ares obviously made a mistake with you, Everett. If you can’t handle an old man, then how are you supposed to save our world from the monsters?”

His words are sharp. Scathing. I flinch, the hurt slicing deeper than I care to admit. But as an adult, I realize that it’s always been like that with us. He has never, not once, looked at me with pride. He saw me as weak and undeserving of my title.

The bastard’s still alive—he’s the only immortal shifter I know—but he’s never reached out. Not once. For all he knows, I’m dead.

Pain arrows through my chest, making it hard to breathe.

The loom encircling my wrist flashes, and the scene changes.

Now I’m a young boy, arriving at the compound.

“There’s my soldier.” The man who speaks is tall, dark, and terrifying.

The malevolent glint in his eyes suggests he’s someone who has been alive a long, long time and has grown nonchalant.

He slaps a hand down on my shoulder hard enough to rattle my teeth.

“Come, boy. Let me introduce you to your teammates.” He leads me into a room full of bunks and children, all of whom stare at me curiously, likely wondering if I’m a member of their team.

Ares leads me towards a corner in the back, where three little boys stare up at me.

The tallest has tawny skin and black hair, streaked with red and blue, that flops haphazardly over his forehead.

His eyes are cold, almost glacial, and his lips are pressed in a perfectly straight line.

Beside him is a grinning boy with white-blond hair and a single dimple.

The third boy has black hair, pale skin, and a timid smile.

I don’t have a lot of memories of my time in the compound, due to the deep sleep the gods put us in. But I do remember this meeting—and the feeling of completeness that filled me when I stared at the boys.

My team.

The thread flashes again.

Now I’m older, a man in the middle of battle. Blood covers my hands—some of it mine, most of it not.

I look around at the fallen bodies, each one a consequence of my choices. I’m a killing machine. That’s all I’m good for. I have a singular purpose in this life, and it’s to slaughter as many supernaturals and monsters as possible.

I’ve felt numb for so long, and this battle is a testament of that.

But now…

Everything has changed.

I’ve never allowed myself to get close to another person. My brothers are the only exception. I always thought I didn’t need another person to protect. I already have my team, and that’s enough. But now I’m tangled up in all of this shit—in her—and there’s no escaping the web she wove.

I thought pushing her away would make everything easier.

Hell, I thought it was the smart thing to do.

If I kept my distance, I wouldn’t have to feel this thing gnawing at the edges of my chest every time she’s close.

If I kept my distance, I wouldn’t have to watch her crack open and break off pieces of herself for the world to take.

But now, as I stand here in the middle of a bloody battlefield, something is different.

I’m different.

She’s the only person who has ever tried to get past my walls, and I pushed her away like a damn fool. I can admit I was afraid—still am. Afraid of what would happen if she really saw me. Afraid of what it would mean to need her. Afraid of what would happen if I were to lose her.

The vision shifts around me and then cuts out. I’m once again in Athena’s Labyrinth, standing in front of the loom. The thread around my wrist loosens and then retreats, returning to the intricate tapestry before me.

My brothers and Thea surround me, and the threads around their wrists untangle as well. They sag forward, seeming relieved.

“Thea!!” Krystian shouts, turning towards her.

She blinks, seemingly in a daze.

“Did everyone else…?” Zaid scratches at his cheek absently.

“Get transported into visions of the past? Yes,” I say, keeping my gaze intent on Thea.

I can’t look away.

Maybe that was the purpose of the loom—for us to look at our past and present and learn from our mistakes. To realize personal truths about ourselves.

Mine?

I’m done hiding. Done pushing her away.

I want Thea—have since I met her, if I’m being completely honest.

And now I’m going to do everything within my power to save her. Then I’ll prove to her once and for all that I’m deserving of her time and affection.

I won’t let her go.

Not now. Not ever.