I shrieked and choked again.
After I recovered—somewhat—I began to process my current situation through the pain of a vicious headache. I hadn’t been hallucinating. Menai and the cloaked angel had been in my cell and had dumped me in some sort of bath chamber. Nearby, steam rose from a rectangular pool ringed with columns.
I swiped a hand down my face and glared at Menai. “You didn’t have very many friends growing up, did you?” It hurt to talk, but I forced the words out anyway.
She snickered. “Probably as many as you.” She reached for another bucket. “Stand up.”
The scent of my own filth made my gut curl. I was a living, breathing biohazard. I’d been left in that dirty cell for days with no real bathroom except for a hole in a dark corner, no way to clean myself, and no will to do anything about it.
I pushed to my feet, more interested in being clean than being modest. “How is it I can stand?” I straightened, glancing down and seeing my ribs and hip bones jutting out more prominently than before.
“The healer was able to help you some. You are beyond disgusting, by the way.” She hit me with more water.
No argument there. I rubbed my skin as dark, dirty water rolled off me and down a drain near my feet. She dumped a few more buckets over my head.
“There. Now you won’t pollute the bath.” She set the bucket down. “There’s soap and shampoo. The rest is all you.”
I walked to the steaming bath. A set of steps led into the water. Hot water closed over one foot, then the other. Inch by inch I went in, the raw places on my skin stinging painfully, but I continued until I was neck deep. A tray of soaps, shampoos, and sponges had been placed near the edge of the bath.
Menai sat on a bench along the wall, crossed one ankle over the other, and began picking at her nails. Apparently she was going to be here for the duration. The “healer” was nowhere to be seen.
“Where is the healer? Was he the man in my cell? Who is he?” I selected a bottle of shampoo and then poured as much as I could hold into my palm.
“None of your damn business.”
“Okay. Why was I taken out of the cell, then?”
“Tonight is the Procession. You’re to take part.”
“What’s the Procession?”
She rolled her eyes like I was an idiot. “Every four years since ancient times there’s a festival to honor Athena. It’s called the Panathenaic Procession. It used to be held over several days, but now it’s just one night where the gods come and pay homage to her. They banquet and then sacrifice or torture any enemies caught. . . . That sort of thing.”
Oh, right. That sort of thing.
I scrubbed at my scalp and then pulled my hair over my shoulder to work the shampoo through the strands. The suds were brown. I ducked under to rinse and then added more shampoo to my hair.
“So how many gods come to the Procession?”
“A handful. Mostly relatives—the ones she hasn’t killed. If they don’t come, she thinks they’re plotting against her.”
“Makes life easier if they show up,” I surmised.
“Something like that, yes.”
I ducked under the water to rinse my hair. One more wash should get it clean. I grabbed the shampoo bottle and squeezed more into my palm. “What’s my role in the Procession, do you know?” I knew I’d been brought here to get all spiffy for a reason—not a good one, either.
Menai shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”
“Menai,” I said, then paused to think over my words. I knew the whole smart-ass, not-my-problem routine; used it myself on plenty of occasions. Takes one to know one, I thought. “Why are you part of all this? You’re not like her; you’re not evil. You could’ve shot Sebastian through the heart and yet you didn’t.”
“Maybe I missed.”
“Yeah. I doubt that.” Menai didn’t strike me as someone who missed. Ever.
A brief look of vulnerability passed over her features, gone before I could even wonder what it meant. “It doesn’t matter. Only that Athena controls me and everyone else.”
“And my father, have you seen him?”
She gave me a weird look.
My heart dropped. “He’s not—”
“No, no,” she said quickly. “He’s alive and healing. Athena hasn’t brought him back out again for the nightly entertainment.” Her voice went uncomfortable and then nonchalant. “She’s been too busy playing with your strange little friend and your boyfriend.” Menai tilted her head, eyes narrowing. “He makes a yummy-looking vampire. I can see why you’re into him.”
I glared at her; a couple spontaneous kisses and some hand-holding didn’t exactly make Sebastian my boyfriend. It didn’t even qualify as a relationship at all; we never even got far. . . .
“My father,” I said, drawing her back to whatever the hell it was she wasn’t saying.
I continued washing as her jaw went tight and her expression turned annoyed once again. Her sharp gaze scanned the room, waiting until a servant walked out of hearing range. “You really don’t remember?”
“Remember what?”
Her lips turned down into a frown, and she gave me a very exaggerated duh without words.
My hands slowed, eventually stopping completely. “That was him. In the cell. My father.” He came to see me. My father. He spoke. Nice words, whatever they were. Caring words. My throat grew thick. “How?”
“Stay here long enough and guards get paid off, deals get made. We have our own little system in Athena’s underground. . . .”
“He healed me, didn’t he?” Wow. “He can do that?”
“Uh, yeah. He gave what little he had.” Her eyes narrowed in a calculating manner. “Theron’s a hunter. He can do lots of interesting—”
The servant came back carrying a heavy basket and then motioned for me to finish in the bath. I got out, dried off, and took the underclothes from the servant, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of my father.
Several sharp tugs around my ribs brought me back to the present as some kind of bustier/breastplate was being laced up like a corset at my back. Next I shimmied into black leather pants. They were slashed in places, on purpose or in battle, I didn’t know. Boots were laced to just below my knees—comfy and not high heels, thank God. At least I could run and fight in them.
They attached a black choker around my neck and then began brushing out my clean hair. It had been so dirty from lying day after day on the floor of the cell that I’d forgotten how white it truly was.
I knew Athena was going to have me fight, and all I could picture was some kind of gladiator-type event, what kind of opponents I’d face, and how I’d beat them, using whatever weapon I’d be given—if any.
My stomach growled and I was allowed bread, fruit, and a small block of cheese to eat as they brushed my hair. My father had worked a miracle on my weakened body; I felt stronger and hungrier, almost normal again.
After all this time jailed, unable to act and having to watch while Athena tortured those I cared for . . . now my time had come. I’d face whatever she threw at me. If she wanted a show, I’d sure as hell give her one.
One of the servants stood in front of me with a sponge and wiped at the small crescent moon tattoo on my cheekbone. I jerked away. “It doesn’t come off.”
She tried again and I swatted at her hand. She huffed and spoke to me in Greek. I shot a glower at Menai, who was still enamored with her nails. “Will you tell her it won’t come off?”
Menai returned my irritated expression. She said a few words, and the servant bowed her head and went to another task—helping to twist the sides of my hair into two long braids, so that they framed my face and kept my hair from falling into my eyes. They left the rest of it long, which sucked because long hair in a fight was a major liability.
“Can you get them to tie my hair back?” I asked Menai.
She rolled her eyes and repeated my request. They shook their heads. Menai shrugged. “Sorry. Not their decision.”
Great.
Once they were done, they stepped back and surveyed their handiwork, gesturing and talking among themselves. I guessed they had finally decided I was as good as I was gonna get and left me to Menai.
As soon as they were gone, I took the opportunity to twist my hair and knot it.
Menai strolled over. Her once-over said she wasn’t impressed with my new look. “Come on.”
I grabbed her arm before she could get beyond my reach. She whirled on me, glanced down at my hand on her arm and then back up at me with a quirk to her eyebrow that said: Do you really want to go there?
I didn’t let go. “You could fight her or leave.”
She jerked out of my grasp. “No. Actually, I can’t.” She marched away.
I caught up and fell in step beside her. With Menai’s dangerous bow, sharp arrows, and supernatural speed, we might be a force to be reckoned with.
Menai was like me. Different. A fighter too. And she wasn’t a cold-blooded killer like Athena. Menai didn’t belong here. And I desperately needed an ally.
We emerged from the building opposite Athena’s temple and headed across the massive courtyard. I thought I’d been in the main temple and had no memory of being taken to a different location.
Servants bustled from one building to another, looking flustered.
“Why don’t the other gods fight her?” I asked under my breath as we hurried across the space. “She’s letting them into her realm and she doesn’t have the Aegis. If they fought together, they could win.”
“No, they can’t, Ari. She’s the goddess of strategy for a reason; she holds something over all of them. They wouldn’t dare risk it.”
I gritted my teeth. I was tired of hearing how powerful Athena was, how she had everyone wrapped around her finger. No one person could have that much control over everyone and no one person should.
Ancient-sounding music came from the temple—strings and drums and flutes. Several loud cheers echoed from inside. I paused at the steps, my gaze following the tall columns up and up and up.
