Page 33 of Gods and Graves

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

THEA

“ S o someone is using me to steal souls and harness their powers,” I surmise, an angry flush crawling up my cheeks. “And because of that, the souls are trapped in my dagger with no hope of escape?”

My entire life, I thought I had a purpose, and while I hated the cage I was put in, I deluded myself into thinking I was helping the souls. Allowing them to cross over to a better place.

But that was all a lie.

I jerk upright on the couch, dislodging Rafe’s and Everett’s hands, and fold my arms over my chest.

“Who the fuck is behind this?” I growl, an almost incandescent anger welling up inside of me.

Athena shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

“You’re the Goddess of Wisdom, and you don’t know?” I stare at her incredulously.

She turns away, her lips pursed. “I haven’t been around in quite a while.”

“Because your team died, right?” Krystian says bluntly—oblivious to the pain creasing Athena’s beautiful face.

Athena’s gaze flickers towards the photograph once more.

“They were more than just my team,” she says softly, standing and moving towards the frame. She grabs it tenderly—almost reverently—and a single tear cascades down her cheek. “They were my everything.”

She returns to us and passes me the photograph. I take it, unsurprised to see a smiling Athena in the center of the photo. Surrounding her are five men, all various shapes and sizes but all undeniably handsome.

The pose is eerily similar to what I saw before I blacked out—Athena, surrounded by five hazy silhouettes.

Could those have been…? No. No.

I stare harder at the picture, noting the birthmark on the tallest man’s cheek, the blemish somehow adding to his appeal. That birthmark…

A memory slams into me, so sudden and startling that I gasp and drop the picture. Only Everett’s quick reflexes keep it from shattering.

“Thea!” Everett says, focusing on me even as he passes the framed photo back to the goddess.

But all I can picture are five men on a bloody battlefield, hundreds and hundreds of feral vampires advancing on them. Tearing them apart while they screamed for mercy.

I remember the vampire uprising—or at least, the number of deaths associated with it.

Over one hundred years ago, a group of vampire extremists, totaling one thousand strong, decided they’d had enough of hunting from the shadows. They wanted to be at the top of the food chain. They went on a killing spree, murdering humans and supernaturals indiscriminately.

“I know these men,” I whisper brokenly, turning towards Athena. My heart cracks down the center. “I… I reaped them.”

Athena freezes, her head still lowered as she stares at the picture of her beloveds.

“You…what?” Her voice is mechanical. Impassive, almost.

“Athena…I’m so sorry.” That’s all I can think to say, but even those words don’t feel adequate enough.

“Do you know what happens to a soul that can’t cross over?

A soul that has no energy?” She’s still speaking softly, but there’s a sharp edge to it I’ve never heard before.

The sound causes Zaid to shift imperceptibly closer to me and Krystian to grab his bow once more.

“The soul becomes insane. Desperate. Monstrous.”

A lump forms in my throat, and a prickling burn erupts behind my eyes.

I’ve reaped thousands and thousands of souls.

And to know that all of them are trapped in the damn dagger…

Unable to move on because they have no energy or power…

“That’s what’s making Thea insane,” Zaid breathes in understanding. He turns towards us. “Every time she reaps a soul, the energy of the newly departed gives the other souls enough juice to make themselves known.”

“But they’re so fucking insane they make Thea insane,” Everett growls.

“Exactly.” Zaid nods once.

“And when she places the dagger on the pedestal, the energy is drained from it,” Krystian says. “Which stops all of the hallucinations and voices because the souls no longer have power.”

“So do we use the rune to drain the excess energy from Thea now?” Everett asks, his brows furrowing together.

Athena hasn’t looked away from the picture, pain slicing across her face, but at his words, she shakes her head minutely. “No.”

“No?” Rafe growls, his hand clamping down on my thigh and tightening.

“She’s right,” Zaid agrees with a shaky exhale, running a hand through his hair. “The runes on the dagger are linked to the runes on the pedestal. It won’t work any other way.”

“And we can’t give the bastard behind this any more power,” Athena growls, a thunderous expression darkening her face.

God, how do I even begin to apologize for what I’ve done?

I know it wasn’t my fault, but still. The men she loves are trapped in the dagger currently tattooed into my skin.

She probably was comforted by the fact that they moved on and found peace.

But to know that they’re trapped? Insane? Because of me?

“We need to find a way to free all the souls,” I say, keeping my gaze trained on Athena and allowing her to see the sincerity in my eyes.

“That won’t stop the person behind this,” Zaid points out, oblivious to the internal exchange between me and the goddess. “We need to find a way to drain him or her of all of this excess energy. All of this unnatural power.”

“And we will,” I insist. “But we also need to find a way to save all of these souls. To remove them from the dagger.”

Athena nods slowly, cautiously, her mouth molded in a frown.

“I’ll help you.” The hand not holding the picture frame curls into a tight fist. “I don’t know who’s behind this, but he or she just made me an enemy.”

“So what do we do?” Krystian asks. “What’s our next step? Do you have any idea who’s behind this?”

“Probably the god in charge of souls themselves. The god who is always battling against Poseidon and Zeus for the crown.” Athena finally flicks her gaze up and spears us all with an indecipherable look.

“You mean Hades?” I squeak.

King of the Underworld? Ruthless killer?

“We can’t just go and confront him,” Everett snarls. “If he is behind this, and he discovers Thea escaped, then he’ll lock her away again.”

“I’m not saying to confront Hades,” Athena says slowly, her keen gaze fixed on the shifter beside me. “But there’s someone you can talk to who knows everything there is to know about the Underworld and reapers. If anyone has heard an inkling of Hades’s plan, it’ll be him.”

Everett, if it’s even possible, becomes even stiffer beside me, a statue hewn from marble.

“Who are you talking about?” I ask, volleying my gaze between Athena and Everett.

“Cerberus,” Krystian responds tiredly, ruffling his golden hair. “She’s talking about Cerberus.”

Everett’s scowl deepens, painting cavernous lines on his face. “Otherwise known as my father.”