Page 32 of Gods and Graves

CHAPTER THIRTY

THEA

I dream I’m the star of a Spanish soap opera.

José has just confessed his undying love to me, and Anna and Lisa have chosen to duel me for his hand in marriage.

I’m standing in a jousting ring, holding my abnormally large sword, as the two women hurl daggers at me with their eyes.

José watches from the sidelines, and for some reason, he’s dressed as a duck with a top hat. No idea why.

I charge at the women with a battle cry, and then?—

“Thea.”

Awareness returns to me slowly, groggily. I blink, momentarily forgetting where I am and how I came to be here. I’m not in my room-slash-prison any longer, but I’m also not in the guys’ safe house. And I’m certainly not dueling two women to win over a man I’ve never met before.

What…?

I blink again and attempt to take in my surroundings.

I’m lying on a couch, my head in Rafe’s lap and my feet in Everett’s. Everett’s, of all people.

I must still be dreaming.

Or maybe this is another hallucination.

But…it’s quiet. Abnormally so.

All I can hear is the rhythmic roar of cascading water echoing off stone walls, a low, constant thunder that pulses in my chest.

Cold, damp air clings to my skin, carrying with it the earthy scent of moss and stone.

The cave I’m in is vast, its ceiling arching high above like the vault of a cathedral, lost in shifting shadows.

Jagged stalactites hang like the teeth of some sleeping beast, while the smooth, glistening floor glows faintly with reflections of luminescent fungi and stray shafts of sun filtering through the cracks far above.

A waterfall dominates the space—a white churning torrent spilling from a crevice in the rock and falling into a black pool that seems bottomless. Mist rises in veils around it, catching the light in tiny prisms.

An underground waterfall?

But that isn’t the strangest thing. No, what really makes my eyes widen is the uncanny fusion of raw nature and sleek modernity.

While there’s a tiny bit of natural light spilling from high above, there’s also electric lighting recessed into the cave walls.

A minimalistic kitchen is tucked into an alcove carved by nature, outfitted with matte-black appliances that gleam against the textured rock.

A smart panel glows beside it, its touch-screen interface incongruous yet strangely at home.

Against one wall is a bed that seems to be built into the stone ledge, covered in soft linens and woolen throws.

Recessed shelves hold books and small plants—ferns and mosses that thrive in the humid air.

The bathroom, located behind a frosted-glass partition partially opened, features a large shower and claw-footed tub, along with a porcelain sink and toilet.

“Thank fuck you’re awake.” Krystian’s voice drags my attention away from my surroundings and back to the matter at hand. “When you fell…”

He trails off with a choked sound.

“What happened?” I furrow my brows together as I try to remember. “Where are we? How did we end up here?”

“You’re in the center of the Labyrinth,” a somewhat familiar voice exclaims. A second later, a beautiful woman steps forward, her keen eyes unnerving. “Welcome to my home.”

“You’re Athena,” I breathe, trailing my gaze over the woman in surprise. “You’re the Goddess of Wisdom.”

I don’t know how I expected her to look—maybe nerdy-ish, with glasses and a turtleneck sweater—but definitely not like this.

Her dark hair hangs loose around her shoulders in tight curls. She wears a white shirt, skinny jeans, and a leather jacket. Tattoos poke through the collar of her shirt, climbing up her neck. She looks badass and fierce and terrifying—someone you would see in a biker’s bar, not in a classroom.

“You’ve passed my tests.” Her voice is carefully indifferent, her cold eyes giving nothing away. “Congrats. It’s not often I have visitors here.”

“What happened? What did you do to me?” I drop my hand to my hip, where the skin there almost seems to burn.

Something akin to sympathy paves its way across Athena’s face. “I did what I could for now.”

“What do you mean ‘for now’?” Everett growls, his hands tightening around my ankles. “I thought you said you cured her!”

“I never said that,” Athena points out. “I simply said that I helped her and that I’ll explain more when she wakes up.”

“She’s awake. Start talking,” Krystian grumbles, folding his arms over his chest.

He and Zaid stand slightly in front of the couch I’m on, their glares fixed on Athena.

Athena smiles, and it’s absolutely breathtaking. Aphrodite may be the Goddess of Beauty, but Athena? She could give her a run for her money.

“It’s funny how love works, isn’t it?” Her smile slips slightly, replaced by something softer. Sadder. Her gaze flicks towards a framed photo beside the bed. “One second, you’re strangers, and the next, you’re willing to talk back to a god for them.”

Love?

I shift uncomfortably, the mere mention of the L-word making my skin crawl.

“Please. Just tell me what’s going on. What happened? How did you cure me? Do you know who I am?”

Athena moves to claim an armchair opposite me, her movements fluid and graceful. She folds her hands primly in her lap.

“I’ve never seen you before today,” she answers.

“Truth,” Rafe rumbles, and I remember he has the ability to detect lies.

Athena’s smirk returns. “You don’t need to use your powers on me, fae. I have no reason to lie.”

“I don’t trust you,” he answers simply, unabashedly.

“I suppose it makes sense why you’re cautious.” She tilts her head to the side, a strand of curly hair catching in the light. “But you have nothing to fear from me. None of you do.”

“Then give us some damn answers,” Krystian snaps, and my eyebrows shoot up at the vitriol in his tone.

At first, I think he transitioned into Krys while I was unconscious, but when I turn towards the elf, I see that his eyes are still a light, calming blue.

“I did what I could to help young Thea for the time being,” Athena begins, seeming to choose her words carefully. “But it’s like trying to use a bandage to stop a dam.”

“I don’t understand,” I whisper, my brows drawing together.

“That tattoo…” Athena nods towards my hip. “Where did you get it?”

I hesitate, choosing my next move carefully. Do I tell her the truth or lie?

But we came all this way for her help, and the only way to get it is by telling her the truth.

“I don’t know how much the guys told you…” I flick my gaze to Rafe’s impassive face, then Everett’s scowling one, before finally focusing on Zaid and Krystian, who still stand side by side.

“They’ve told me nothing,” Athena says, obviously amused by that prospect. “They simply snapped at me, threatened me a few times, and then guarded your unconscious body like hellhounds. It’s…admirable.”

Once again, sadness flickers across her face, there and gone too quickly for me to be sure I saw it correctly.

“Well…” Quickly, I tell her the entire story.

About how I have no memory of my life outside of that strange room and the incessant tugging in my chest forcing me to reap souls.

The insanity that always barrages me, followed by the pain.

I explain how the only way to stop it all is to place the dagger on the pedestal in the room.

At that, Athena demands for me to describe the runes, so I do.

Then I explain how I was brought to the guys and defied the natural order of things by saving Zaid’s life—which causes the wraith to smile adoringly in my direction.

I talk about my quest to find answers and my fear that I’ll be whisked away and forced back into that damn room.

I tell her about the dagger and the way it merged with my flesh, becoming a tattoo.

I mention our brief meeting with Aphrodite.

Rafe interrupts then, claiming he traveled back to the goddess’s apartment during an orgy and discovered a sketchbook belonging to Athena.

A sketchbook that held images of the runes etched on my dagger.

I didn’t know he did that, and all I can think is—the fucker went to an orgy?! He better not have participated, or so help me god?—

“This is…very concerning.” Athena’s brows pull low over glowering eyes.

“You recognize the runes on the dagger, don’t you?” Zaid presses.

She stares sullenly ahead, her gaze unseeing, before she nods once. “Of course I do. I… I created them. Or at least, the one that’s causing Thea’s current predicament.”

The outcry is instantaneous.

Krystian’s bow materializes in his hands, and Everett’s hands tighten around my ankles, the hold almost bruising. Rafe has gone very, very still. Too still. A predator hiding in a bush, waiting to strike. Only Zaid appears unperturbed, keeping his curious gaze fixed on Athena.

The goddess absently brushes a curl behind her ear. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not the one who put the rune on the dagger.”

“What does it do?” I ask quickly, trying to get the conversation back on track.

I don’t know if the guys are capable of killing a goddess, and I really, really don’t want to find out.

I’ve become a little attached to them, dammit, and I refuse to lose them now.

Athena’s long, perfectly manicured fingers tap against her thigh. “It… It holds souls.”

“Holds souls?” Everett repeats, incredulous.

“Anywhere from one soul to…a million. A couple million.”

An uneasy feeling snakes through me, making the acid in my stomach sluice uncomfortably.

“Are you saying that when I reap a soul, their soul is trapped in the dagger?” I whisper.

“That rune you described…the one on the pedestal…” Athena stands suddenly and moves towards a bookshelf beside her bed.

She peruses the titles before evidently finding the one she’s looking for, pulling it free with a satisfied hum.

She returns to us while flipping through the pages. “Is this what it looks like?”

She thrusts the book in front of me, and I peer at the intricately drawn rune on the page.

I nod stiffly. “That’s it. But there are hundreds of that rune etched across the pedestal.”

Athena nods as if she expected as much, but her face has drained of all color. She swallows convulsively and all but falls into the armchair once more.

“Fuck,” she breathes.

“What does this rune mean?” Krystian demands, his tone impatient.

“It’s… It’s a way to transfer power.”

“What are you saying?” I ask, though I already know.

“I’m saying that every time you use that dagger to reap a soul, that soul—and consequently its energy—transfers to it.

And every time you place that dagger on the pedestal, the energy of the soul relocates to the one who placed the runes in the first place, while the soul remains trapped in the dagger. ”

Athena turns to stare at me, fear brimming in her dark eyes. “Someone is collecting power. A lot of power. More power than maybe even Zeus has. And I can think of only one reason someone would do that.”

She swallows again, her hand shaking slightly. “We are so fucked.”