Bonds of Hercules - 40

K HARON : SGC D AY 11

E very inch forward was a million miles.

Sizzle.

Flesh boiled and bubbled, melting away as sand and stone blurred around me.

Bright sunlight made the anguish grotesque.

There was nowhere to hide.

Heaving through my nose, each step jostled my deteriorating flesh—I bit down on my tongue, tasting copper—Typhon spit was dripping down my chest, dissolving my muscles, eating away at my bones.

“ Hunter … Hunter … Hunter! ” Sparta chanted for me, the sound warping in my missing ear.

Years ago, I would have killed to be where I was, but now the victory was hollow.

I screamed into my closed mouth, a serene expression still plastered across my face, as I walked unhurriedly toward the open gate—three dead Typhons lay mangled in the arena behind me.

Knees wobbling, pieces of me popped as they boiled and emulsified, dripping.

I smirked up in the direction of the Chthonic section; Artemis and Erebus were watching.

They’d never catch me on my knees again.

Ten feet.

Breathing roughly, I concentrated with everything I had.

Five.

Two.

One.

I lunged out of the arena, up the step into the coliseum, and collapsed.

Crack.

Hades caught me.

Screaming and twitching in pain, I writhed in his arms.

Hades shouted something garbled about Alexis.

A white toga came into view, sparks, a hand reached out. There was a fight. Yelling. A vial was pressed to my lips. Zeus yanked me out of Hades’s arms.

Everything went dark.

“Wake up!” Icy water splashed across my face, and I sputtered awake. The first thing I noticed was the scorching agony across my shoulder and chest.

Torchlight illuminated a low ceiling.

I was tied with chains to a chair, seated at a low metal table, in a small … crypt?

Stacks of skulls were piled high, lining the walls. The air was chilly and stale. I was somewhere in the labyrinth of chambers under the Dolomites Coliseum.

Zeus sat across from me at the table, his storm-gray eyes narrowed with disgust as he stared at me.

“Where is Medusa?” he asked, tapping a small glass bottle on the metal table. The tin sound echoed harshly in the quiet.

I opened my mouth—agonizing pain exploded in my chest, air whistling through my mouth.

“He needs more salve to speak,” Zeus said to someone.

Everything spun.

A guard leaned over me with a jar of paste. Rough hands slapped at my ruined skin—I screamed—air whistled through the open cavity of my ribs.

Darkness dragged me under.

Freezing water drenched my face. “Wake up!”

I sputtered.

The agony was still present, but slightly muted.

Zeus was still sitting across from me at the dingy table. “Can you speak?” he asked, electricity bright across his tongue.

My vision doubled—two Zeuses stared at me expectantly.

“SPEAK!”

“What—”

“Good,” Zeus said calmly. He held up a full glass vial. “Like I was saying, this —” he swirled green liquid in the torchlight “—is your incentive.” The Rod of Asclepius was stamped on the side.

I tipped my head back, heaving.

“Aren’t you going to ask what it is?”

I opened my mouth—and threw up all over myself.

“Very well, I’ll tell you,” Zeus said calmly. “You’ve already had a tiny sip; it’s why you’re not in a coma. It’s an advanced Olympian healing tonic— very expensive, our lab’s newest technology … Once you drink it, you’ll barely feel any pain. It’s going to change the world.”

My vision tripled.

Three Zeuses stared at me—three glass vials twirled.

“I’ll give you the tonic.” Zeus spoke slowly. “If you tell me where Medusa is.”

I was fucked.

“Don’t … know.” I slumped weakly. It was the truth.

There was a long moment of quiet.

“Liar.” Metal clattered against stone as he stood up. “She’s your sister—it had to be you …” He leaned across the table. “Tell me where you stashed THAT MONSTER!”

“I … don’t … know.”

My head snapped to the side as Zeus slapped me.

Guards flooded the space, brandishing sparking batons.

Time warped in a blur of pain.

A vial was dangled in front of my face.

Metal creaked.

“I … don’t … know … Medusa,” someone whispered repeatedly; it might have been me.

More blows fell.

Zeus stood composed in front of me. “I need to know. Is he telling the truth?”

Is who telling the truth?

Patro’s face blurred in and out of focus.

“Remember, if you lie to me,” Zeus said quietly, “Achilles will be sent to the Underworld.”

Patro leaned toward me, his mouth moving. “Do you know where Medusa is?”

Who is he talking to?

“Kharon—answer me!” Patro yelled.

“No.”

Patro searched my face, and his shoulders slumped with relief . “He’s telling the truth.”

Zeus was silent.

Patro asked more questions and someone answered; it might have been me.

Glass pressed against my lips.

Smooth liquid poured down my throat.

A switch flipped—the pain turned off; I felt nothing.

I was sitting chained to a chair with warm blood dripping down my face. My eyes were almost fully swollen shut, and I could only see out of small cracks.

Patro and Zeus were arguing.

“Someone has to know where the fuck Medusa is.” Zeus gritted his teeth. “The safety of Sparta is at stake.”

“I already told you … We’re not involved,” Patro said calmly. “Maybe you should interrogate the Olympians.”

Zeus pointed at me. “Get him out of here … Now.”

A few minutes later, I limped beside Patro, holding on to his shoulder for support. I couldn’t feel anything, but my body wasn’t cooperating—I was walking through molasses.

“Thank you,” I whispered as he led me through the underground tunnels, my voice hoarse from screaming.

Silence stretched.

“I miss … our friendship.” Patro spoke so quietly I almost missed it.

I leaned against him. “Me too.”

“Forgive me,” he said, his voice trembling. “She was ours first … ours to mentor. We were trying— We do care for her … We were trying to do what was right for—”

“Stop,” I said softly. “Don’t.”

Patro halted, and I fell against him.

He turned, holding me up, torchlight illuminating his handsome face. “Why?” he asked. “Why can’t you let it go and—”

“Because—” I coughed violently. “I … love her.”

Patro’s face fell with devastation.

“She cares … about you,” I whispered. “She’d want me … to forgive you.” I tried to open my eyes wider, to see him more clearly, but I couldn’t. “And I care about you—so much.” Tongue heavy and dry, I forced out, “ I care about you. I miss you … but I can’t do this right now.”

Patro squeezed me tighter as he held me up, embracing. I rested my head on his shoulder, gasping for air.

Finally, we pulled apart and resumed staggering down the cavernous hall.

Two reluctant brothers, not of blood, but of heart.

What felt like hours later, we made it back to our individually assigned prisons. Guards were waiting for us in front of our doors.

Patro touched his forehead against mine.

We went our separate ways.

Our doors slammed shut.

“Honeys—” I coughed “—I’m home.”

I stumbled in the dark, pulling off my ruined clothes. I had a faint memory of an Olympian doctor wrapping bandages around my wounds, giving me a shot, and telling me to sleep it off.

No one answered.

Rubbing at my swollen eyes, it took a second to focus on the bed: Augustus was in the fetal position, his body blocking Alexis’s. The air smelled like sweat, like pain.

Shit, he could feel everything.

I gingerly lowered myself onto the edge of the bed. The mattress jostled and Augustus sat up, but Alexis remained sleeping.

“What?” I rasped out, not liking the expression on his face.

“Alexis—” Augustus dragged his hands over his face, twitching with the aftershocks of my pain.

“What?” I repeated, too exhausted to do anything else as I lay beside him.

“She … she … she …” Augustus was unable to finish his sentence as he stared down at her.

“She—what?”

He turned to me. “Alexis can feel our pain.”

Static filled my head.

That would mean …

No. No. No. No. No.

I’d just been tortured; she’d been tortured.

I was free-falling. Plummeting.

“Breathe!” Augustus’s voice warped above me as black spots dotted my vision. “Breathe, Kharon!”

There was a commotion as someone fell to the floor; it might have been me.

I blinked.

Augustus heaved me upright.

I blinked again.

Augustus forced my jaw open with his hands.

I inhaled air like a starving man. When I finally stopped hyperventilating, Augustus gently rested me back on the bed.

Alexis sat up, leaning over me—two-colored eyes wide with shock.

“Sorry.” My voice cracked, agony pulverizing my soul. “So … sorry . Why didn’t you … tell us?”

Soft fingers touched my cheek.

“Because—I didn’t want you to worry,” Alexis said with heartbreaking sincerity. “I’m strong … I don’t need you to take care of me—I’ve been surviving on my own for years.”

My vision blurred.

“It’s all my fault,” I whispered.

“No,” Augustus said, his hand resting on the top of my head.

Alexis wiped the moisture off my cheeks, her thumbs shaking. “No, Kharon—we’re in this together.”

I reached up, my fingers wrapping around a golden curl. “Together … forever—promise.”

She nodded, a tear spilling down her lashes. “Lacrimosa,” she said under her breath.

I smiled. “From Requiem Mass in D Minor.”

Her breath caught. “Wait … you know—”

“Mozart? Carissima … I’m a pianist .” I coughed. “Of course I do.”

Alexis stared down at me like she’d never seen me before. I tried to tell her how perfect she was, but I could no longer find my voice.

“Shhhh.” Alexis kissed my forehead. “Sleep … heal.”

Nodding to let her know I understood, I mouthed, “I love you,” but no sounds came out. Defeated, I closed my eyes.

“ Familia ,” Augustus whispered. Family.

“I love you both so much,” Alexis said, then she whispered into my ear, “You’re my Piano Concerto No. 20 in D Minor.”

Tears leaked down my face.

It was Mozart’s most romantic composition.

Turning, I pulled Alexis against my aching body and held on to her as Augustus wrapped around us both.

I could only sleep when she was in my arms.

SGC D AY 12

B ang. Bang.

“Time to head to the arena,” guards shouted.

I peeled open swollen, crusted eyes and looked around. In the middle of the night, I’d once again pulled Alexis across me like a blanket.

Her heartbeat pounded against my chest.

“Where’s Augustus?” Alexis shifted as she rolled off me, and I fought the urge to grab her and pull her back.

Wait, why didn’t he wake us up?

A muffled voice bellowed, “Three minutes!”

Swearing, Alexis and I dressed quickly.

As the guards led us through the stone labyrinth, I clutched the back of Alexis’s neck, stroking her necklace to soothe myself.

When we were led out into the stands, bright sun blinded me.

The air was warm. The scent of grass, fresh flowers, and earth filled my nose.

Alexis didn’t move away like she had the last few days. We sat together behind Drex, Charlie, and Helen.

The youngsters recoiled as they saw my face. My bruises must look gruesome.

I gave them a sheepish smile. It was hard to be upset.

Tender emotions washed over me as I inhaled the scent of clean soap, soaking up Alexis’s presence. She was holding my hand, touching me, choosing me—she loved me.

Nothing else mattered.

The crowd clapped with excitement as Augustus walked onto the sands holding a sword and wearing no armor. In contrast, Poco stood on his shoulder, fluffy gray belly protruding, his teeth bared, wearing a silver chest plate and matching Spartan helmet—he was in full battle regalia.

Static crackled as Zeus announced Augustus had two rounds and six labors.

The stadium hollered with excitement.

Augustus tensed, both hands gripping his sword, a strange expression on his face.

He looked … cold .

The gate opened—sweat dripped down my spine, memories of Typhons playing—Alexis squeezed my hand, and I focused on her touch.

ROARRRRRR.

Four Minotaurs charged out, already fully shifted into beasts with monstrous snouts, curling horns, and thick hooved legs.

They charged with axes held high in their powerful arms.

Gasps echoed.

It was an extremely aggressive first round, and labors usually didn’t repeat. Achilles had already faced Minotaurs. This didn’t make any sense.

The leaders must have agreed with my assessment, because all of them stood up.

Hades bellowed something at Zeus, but I couldn’t hear what, because Alexis’s thumb was slowly stroking the top of my hand.

Augustus didn’t move; he just stared at the beasts.

Chthonic blood filled his eyes—droplets spilled over like tears.

“KNEEL.” His voice, warped and deep, not his own, exploded through the stadium.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

All four Minotaurs fell to the sand, their hairy bodies limp.

Beastly eyes glazed over.

The crowd got to its feet, unable to believe what they were seeing. Everyone leaned forward, jockeying to get a better view.

Augustus took a step toward them. “DIE!” His voice was unforgiving.

Pop —Minotaur eyeballs exploded from their skulls. Brains poured out of their oversized ears.

There was a moment of dead silence, then the stadium erupted. “ BEHOLD THE HEIR … BEHOLD THE HEIR … BEHOLD THE HEIR! ” Sparta screamed wildly, losing their minds at the display of sheer power.

Zeus scowled. “ Second round! ” Sparks fell from his lips, his lion growling at his side.

The gate lifted.

More of them?

Two monstrous Minotaurs appeared in the dark—taller than the others, they towered above the sands, both the size of a Cyclops—they were fully shifted.

The axes gripped in their hands were larger than Augustus’s body.

Hooves touched onto sand as they stepped forward and—

Augustus gently covered Poco’s eyes.

THUD.

Both Minotaurs lay dead.

The crowd gasped again with shock, but this time, they fell silent and stayed that way.

What is he doing?

Augustus always held back the strength of his true power. If the Olympians knew how strong he was, it would put a target on his back.

They would try to constrain him, just like they did Achilles.

He’d just risked everything .

Zeus glared down at Augustus from his podium.

The Chthonic leaders clapped respectfully, but their faces were pinched—he’d revealed his hand—he was supposed to be the diplomat.

From the nervous murmuring in the coliseum, no one in Sparta would think of him that way again.

Poco let out a mighty screech, the noise echoing as he banged his tiny black hands against his chest plate.

Augustus smiled at his antics.

They made quite the sight—a monster and his dressed-up raccoon.

Augustus stopped and turned to our section of the stands. He shielded his bloody eyes from the sun and put a hand on his heart.

“What … is he doing?” Alexis asked.

I swallowed thickly, fingers curling around hers.

“This was—” I struggled around the lump in my throat “—all for you.”

“What?”

“Augustus … revealed the full extent of his power—to keep you safe. He ended it quickly so the Minotaurs couldn’t hurt him, nor you … It was all so you wouldn’t feel his pain.”

Alexis looked around the stadium. “But now they’re afraid of him.” Her voice was small, unsure.

I brought her hand up to my beating, blistered heart.

“He doesn’t care about them,” I said. “You’re all that matters to us.”

Gratitude for him swelling, I nodded down at Augustus.

Alexis’s fingers trembled in my grip.

Soon … it would be her turn to fight.

Lifting her hand up to my mouth, I softly kissed each of her knuckles.

She was going to be okay.

She has to be.

If not, we were going to war.