Page 41 of The Unseen Hour (The Unseen Hour Duology #1)

T he beach was awe-inspiring under the purple and orange lights of day.

The sands stretched on for what seemed an infinite length in both directions before they disappeared into fog.

The water extended the same way in front of us, waves as far as the eye could see.

The shore, and the shallower waters, were dotted with the black rock formations we’d seen the night before.

Orion passed me a handful of jerky. We’d been saving it for the beach. I gnawed on my piece.

“I’ve been thinking. You should try to read the box and open it. I’ll stand watch near the stones so nothing can sneak up on us from behind them. We don’t want another incident like at the canyon, and Death said you should carry the baton,” I reasoned.

“And what if wild animals do rise from the seas? You’re not fighting them alone.”

I threw my head back, trying to get my unruly, sea-air soaked hair out of my eyes.

“No. I’ll give a signal for us to make ourselves scarce if I see anything suspicious. But you’re the one with the Shade song. You should be the one to open the box.”

“All right. I’ll work quickly, and then we’ll leave as soon as we have what we came for.”

“Deal.” There would be no arguments from me on that front. The beach spot, like the cavern, did have an eerie sort of beauty to it, but I wasn’t planning to stay and see if Charon had more guards.

The light confirmed what we’d been able to make out in the dark. The formation we had focused on was notably larger than any other. The stones were placed in an arc shaped like a crescent moon, and I paced its perimeter, making sure no one could sneak up on us from those directions.

“I can read it!” Orion called.

I paused, taking in a shaky breath and letting it out slowly.

Thank all the gods.

“Listen to this. I shall see you again in whatever fate awaits the gods ,” Orion read aloud.

I shivered, from the breeze and words in equal measure.

“It’s like what you’d see on a headstone,” I whispered.

“Who would Charon have to mourn?” A few moments passed in silence, and I prayed he’d be able to work quickly.

“The box is still shut tight! Reading it did nothing, and I can’t pry it loose,” Orion called.

“Blasted ghosts!” I cursed, kicking the sand a few times.

“All this way for a locked box and no key. Unless … Ry! Check the sides. Maybe there’s a latch or a catch somewhere?

” My father’s desk had held a hidden compartment.

Gods and men were different beings, but maybe the same when it came to protecting their secrets.

“There’s something here! More writing, very small, on one edge.” Orion’s voice got quieter and he murmured something, probably reading the inscription .

I heard a resounding pop, like the cork in a bottle coming loose.

“I’ve got it! There was a small compartment that slid out from the bottom.” Orion’s voice grew louder, and he rounded the back curve of the stones. “We’ve got it!”

He scooped me up, spinning me in a circle. My heart soared along with the rest of me.

When he released me, I saw his left hand held a wooden baton. I threw my arms around his neck, pulling him back to me. My fingers ran through his unruly hair. When my lips met his, he tasted like the sea air.

“I’ll need to be finding secret, Unseen Hour–ending items more often, if that’s the result,” Orion teased.

“Now that we’ve got it, we can go home.”

“We still need whatever’s on Charon’s property before we can return to Emrys,” Orion reminded me.

I blushed.

“Actually, when I said home I was referring to the cottage. I know it’s technically yours, but?—”

“Starlight, you could have anything of mine, and I would give it gladly.”

“Then let’s go home. We can recoup and resupply before we find the second item. Decide what to do with the baton. And finish what we started at the canyon?”

Orion’s pupils widened, his look turning hungry.

“If that’s what you want,” he choked out.

When I made a decision, I committed. Back in Emrys, no one had kept me from rides with Pellix, or from leaving the estate at night, or stealing books from the library.

And nothing would keep me from Orion. I wanted all of him, and I wanted him to have all of me.

Just as soon as we were back to the safety of the forest .

“Let’s go, before a great bear or something ruins the moment,” I urged, grabbing his hand.

The ground shook, and Orion reached out, steadying me.

“Cursed gods! Really?” I looked around for the source of the noise.

“What is that?” Orion pointed further down the beach.

My gaze locked on a glinting mass that had just appeared near the waves. I couldn’t help feeling like I’d called bad luck down on us with my words.

Orion’s grip tightened on my arm, and he hauled us behind one of the rock formations.

“Nothing good.” He looked around.

If we moved, we’d be exposed.

To hide, or to run?

“Hiding didn’t work at the canyon. We should move,” I whispered.

“Quickly,” Orion responded, nodding his head toward a stone formation northwest of us, farther from the waters.

He squeezed my hand, and we ran for it. I threw a glance over my shoulder. The figure was closer, looking wholly out of place on the grey shores, silhouetted against the orange and purple sky. A man. Tall and barrel-chested.

“Not your father, I take it?” Orion asked as I picked up my pace.

“Definitely not! I’m fairly certain whoever’s out there isn’t even human. Another god?”

“He’s definitely not Charon!”

“Foolish beings! Do you really think you can run?” A deep voice boomed across the beach.

Orion threw us behind the next rock formation. I poked my head out, trying to figure out where the god was. Closer still, and with a malicious gleam in his eyes.

He was muscled and covered in armor. It looked almost like leather, but it was green. Green with copper studs and spikes along the chest and arms. He had long red hair tied at the neck, and a beard of the same shade.

“No sense hiding!” the god shouted.

“He’s right. If he can move like Charon or Death, he could just appear wherever he wants. He’s toying with us,” I said.

“But we have to try.”

We didn’t have a choice.

“On three, we go for the next formation. A few more and we can be off the beach and into the trees. Maybe we can lose him there. It’s our best shot. Three, two, one, go!”

We sprinted for the next formation. I could see the god out of the corner of my eye as we moved from that one to the next. We had one more to go before we were off the actual beach.

The god lifted his hand, spinning a weapon he held. It was a hammer, several times larger than the ones I had seen blacksmiths in Emrys using.

He stalked closer, his steps carrying him an impossible distance, but he still didn’t transport himself directly into our path.

His brows were lowered in a glare.

His size, and ferocity, added to my certainty that we faced yet another deity. This one looked much less friendly than Death.

“Why do you invade Charon’s lands?” the god demanded. Strong winds buffeted us as the words hit my ears.

If any of them had been a god of war, I imagined it would be the deity on the beach. He swung the hammer in a circle above his head, seemingly creating the wind himself. The copper on his armor gleamed.

Orion positioned himself in front of me.

The god lowered his hammer, pointing it at us .

“You have no right to be here. This realm is for Shades, not women of Emrys.”

He recognized me for what I was—alive—just as Orion had said Charon would. And he’d spoken to me personally. I gulped.

“You won’t touch her.” Orion glared at the god, looking every bit as angry as when he mentioned Charon.

“And you, Head Shade ,” the deity’s voice dripped with disdain, “will feel the wrath of Odos’s hammer.”

The answer to my question of which god we faced no longer felt relevant. Knowing his name wouldn’t help us beat him.

I leapt out from behind Orion, shaking my fist.

“You cannot have him!” I screamed.

Odos threw back his head and laughed.

“Look at the two of you. Such fiery tempers. Fierce. Certain of yourselves, even when you’re outmatched. Not that I’m surprised. After all, you made it down here, and you?—”

“Celia, run!” Orion shoved me, and the two of us tried to sprint farther from the beach.

I had no interest in finishing our conversation with Odos, and we couldn’t let him get the baton, either. It was our only bargaining chip with Death.

The sand rolled, and I went flying. Odos lifted his hammer, striking the beach a second time. The ground beneath me shook, and I was slammed onto my back. I sat up and struggled to breathe. My lungs refused to take in the air my body was begging for.

I looked for Orion, only to see him on his feet. His expression was positively feral as he faced the god. He charged at Odos, screaming.

The god raised his hammer, and I reached uselessly for them.

“Orion, no!”

Lightning slammed into the sands between the two of them. My heart leapt.

Death didn’t appear, but Odos had stopped and was looking up at the skies.

A familiar voice boomed overhead.

“Leave or fight me, brother.”

I recalled what Death had said about their not truly being related, but she’d been right about one thing: they definitely fought like siblings.

Odos glared at the skies overhead, and then at Orion.

Ry had been thrown back from the lightning, and was pushing himself up from the sands.

“You have no authority here!” Odos yelled at Death’s disembodied voice.

She laughed, the sound echoing around us.

“No more than you. This is foolishness. Leave, before he senses us. You could ruin everything.”

“But he?—”

More lightning peppered the earth, striking the sands. Where it hit, brittle curved structures that looked like warped glass rose from the beach. Odos struck each of them down with his hammer, a defiant scowl on his face.

I took my chance, rushing over to Orion and helping him to his feet. The two of us stumbled away from the arguing gods, making for the sparse treeline.

“Don’t stop!” Orion shouted at me when the ground beneath us rolled again. I almost tripped, but he held me up.

“Leave them be, Odos!” Death’s voice boomed again, followed by more lightning. I risked one glance over my shoulder.

The god continued to glare, but his wind stopped chasing us.

“This isn’t the end of it,” he warned, voice echoing as his form faded on the beach and we distanced ourselves from the sands.