Page 33
33
Icarus
There’s a pair of low black boats waiting as our group files down to the docks. Even though I know better, I can’t help searching the faces of the people gathered for Polyphemus’s one-eyed gaze. A lot can go wrong on the waves in the middle of the night—in a fucking sneak attack—and it would be just my luck to get a knife between my ribs from him, instead of an Aeaean.
“He’s with Athena’s group,” Poseidon says softly. “Orion is with Hades.”
I glance at him, that warm and fuzzy feeling he brings about inside me gaining strength. Not only because he guessed the direction of my thoughts, but because he obviously took what steps he could to ensure my safety and comfort. A week ago, I would have laughed in his face and pointed out that there’s nothing safe about our plans, that he wasted that time and effort. I don’t. It would hurt him.
I want to gather up this evidence of his goodness in the palm of my hand, a light to hold the darkness at bay.
“Remember your promise,” I finally say. To live through the night. To be okay.
He doesn’t get a chance to respond. Zeus steps toward a boat. “Let’s go.” He pulls on a long coat he’s been handed over his fucking suit. I wish I didn’t get why he made that choice. We’re the ones confronting Circe—killing Circe, if Zeus has anything to say about it—and appearances matter.
Finishing the job his father started.
We file into the two boats. I stick close to Poseidon’s side, and despite Athena’s insistence that Zeus take his own boat, he ends up on my other side. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least.
My father was never much of a sailor, but I’ve spent a fair amount of time on sailboats and pleasure crafts since my teens. This boat is nothing like that. It’s low and sleek and it charges through the waves with dizzying strength. It’s also freakishly quiet. It feels like we’re flying along above the surface of the waves instead of on them.
Nausea slaps me in the face almost immediately. I press my hand to my stomach and close my eyes, but it only makes the sensation worse.
“Here.” Something presses against my lips and I open without hesitation because it’s Poseidon offering.
Spicy flavor explodes on my tongue. Ginger. It’s so strong, it almost burns me, but it does help the seasickness. “Thanks,” I manage.
By the time I open my eyes, the relative light from Olympus’s proximity feels distant. I cautiously look back to see the city twinkling in the distance. It didn’t seem like the ships were that far offshore, but I guess distances are tricky on the water.
“The jamming devices are doing their job,” Athena murmurs. I don’t know how she can tell that. I can barely see anything at all.
I glance at Poseidon, close enough that I can pick out his familiar features in the near-perfect dark, and find him grinning. He catches me looking and shrugs. “I like being out on the water, even in these circumstances.”
“You would love Aeaea.” I say it without thinking, without considering the implications. “At least the sea surrounding it.”
He seems like he might respond, but he doesn’t get a chance. “Stop here.” Zeus doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t have to; the motor is damn near silent even as the person at the helm obeys, easing our pace until we’re only holding our location instead of moving forward.
Now, we wait.
Even with the clothing Poseidon provided, I’m so cold, I can’t stop shivering. Zeus seems not to feel the weather. He stares at the ships as if he can sink them through sheer willpower. I’m not certain he can’t.
“Fifteen minutes to midnight,” he finally says. “We move in twenty, regardless of whether we get a signal or not.”
“Understood,” Poseidon says.
We all understand. Fifteen minutes has never seemed like a particularly long time, but as we sit in the bobbing waves, ginger practically burning my tongue, it might as well be years ticking by. Poseidon sits at my side, but he’s a million miles away.
To distract myself, I stare into the darkness, trying to pick out any indication of the ships. It’s an impossible task. They aren’t pleasure vessels with large windows to shine their light out across the water. Poseidon found it strange that Deo and the others were personal owners of what amounts to military ships, but on Aeaea, the military is privatized. It’s just how things are. I never questioned it, but now, sitting here freezing my ass off while we try to break the siege on Olympus, I wonder if maybe I should have questioned it.
I should have questioned a lot of things.
Something vibrates against my leg and I flinch instinctively. He pats my thigh. “It’s my phone.”
“Right. Of course.” It’s everything I can do not to dig it out of his pocket myself to read whatever text just came through. It has to be from Deo. It has to be.
He shifts away just enough to pull his phone out—the screen already turned down so low that I can’t read it—and sighs. “They’re leaving.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Athena mutters. “Five minutes.”
“Poseidon.” The woman, I’ve already forgotten her name, leans forward with a tiny screen lit neon green. “They’re moving.” She points to one of the tiny dots among the lines.
We sit silently and watch four of the dots peel away from the fifth, taking varying angles and moving toward the open ocean. It’s…happening. I did it. I haven’t failed. This might not be what I originally planned to use the blackmail for, but it’s actually serving a noble purpose instead of a selfish one. With only one ship to contend with, Poseidon has a better chance of living to see sunrise. He’ll be okay, in part, because of me .
“It could be a trap,” Zeus says.
“It could be. But it’s not.” I don’t deserve the faith Poseidon puts in me. I’ve done nothing to earn it. It still feels good. Especially when the little dots don’t turn back. They seem to be picking up speed, though it’s hard to tell for sure. Poseidon touches my back, a light brushing of his palm between my shoulder blades. “Icarus came through for us.”
“Apparently so.” Zeus doesn’t sound particularly pleased, but he never sounds like anything but ice. “Let’s go. The others will see the same thing we are and will be shifting positions.”
One ship. They still outnumber us, but even if I haven’t spent much time among the normal people in Aeaea, the ones who existed outside the guarded gates at my father’s property, I still know the reality they live in.
It’s honestly not that different from Olympus’s civilians—worse, in some ways. Ironic, that. Circe doesn’t seem to care that she’s allied with people who, if given half a chance, would have done exactly what the Thirteen did in Olympus.
But then, vengeance has a way of narrowing focus and allowing for all manner of compromises of one’s ethics.
“When we reach the ship, stay in the boat with Ceto.”
Zeus speaks before I can protest. “No, he’s coming with us.” There’s no give in his voice, just a command he obviously expects to be obeyed without question.
He should know better. Poseidon shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”
“It’s entirely possible that this is all an elaborate maneuver to get the three legacy titles on their knees in front of Circe. I’m not taking any chances. He comes with us.”
Poseidon opens his mouth to continue to argue, but I reach out and squeeze his big thigh. “It’s fine. I’ll go onto the ship.” I turn my attention to Zeus. “If only to ensure you keep your word about the crew.”
“If I wanted to kill the entire crew, there’s little you could do to stop me.”
“You’re right. But if that’s your plan, then I will stand witness to you breaking your word.”
He nods almost imperceptibly. “Noted. Let’s move.” The last to the woman at the motor. Ceto, apparently.
She puts the radar thing away and guides us soundlessly through the waves. I expected them to be less choppy now that we’re past the surf, but they only seem to be getting worse. As if hearing my thoughts, she clears her throat. “There’s a storm coming in.”
I instinctively look up, but there’s nothing to be seen except darkness. Nothing on the horizon, either. The only indication that she’s correct is the increasing ditch between swells. Every time we crest one and drop in, my stomach lodges itself into my throat. We’re not that far from shore. An athletic person could probably swim it if they were smart and experienced. I’m none of those things. If I go over, I’ll drown.
I laugh. I can’t help it. This whole situation is so fucked. “I suppose now’s not the time to mention that I’m not the strongest swimmer.”
Poseidon gives me a look and, even in the darkness, I can tell he wants to throttle me. “You don’t think that’s something you should have mentioned before getting on this boat?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I jerk my chin at Zeus. He’s ignoring us, leaning forward as if he can will the boat to move even faster.
For a moment, I actually think Poseidon will grab Zeus and toss him bodily into the water. It would be a mistake but entertaining enough that it might be worth it. Poseidon isn’t a man ruled by his baser impulses, though, so he manages to muscle down his anger. Barely.
He grabs my arm and drags me close enough that we’re pressed tightly together. “Listen to me, Icarus. I don’t care what happens when we get on that ship—you stick by my side. Do you hear me?”
“Trust me, I’m not going anywhere.” I fully intend to make a smart-ass remark in an attempt to break the growing tension, but between one blink and the next, a giant hull rears out of the darkness in front of us. I can barely pick up the white name printed against its black side. Penelope. Circe’s ship.
We’re here.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33 (Reading here)
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37