know how to thank you, Lily.”
“Yes, yes, I quite agree,” a deep voice laughs from behind us. “How ever can I thank you, Lily?”
I whirl.
It’s Clay.
11
"He is a man of courage who does not run away, but remains at his post and fights against the enemy." ~Socrates
Clay. In the flesh. He no longer looks like the boy I met in college. It’s not the battle armor he’s wearing with the red soldier’s cape tossed over his shoulder. It’s like he’s aged somehow, although, technically, he’s a god and immortal. Maybe it’s the weight of his evilness beginning to show. Whatever it is, his pale blue eyes look cunning, crafty. And instead of a sexy smirk playing over his lips like the Clay I knew on Earth, there’s a hint of an arrogant sneer, one that just screams he’s convinced of his superiority over those around him.
“Clay,” I rasp.
“Lil, so nice to see you again.” His eyes flit over me to Artemis and he claps again. “Well done, Artemis. I knew you’d deliver it—with the right motivator. I mean, I would have thought all that torture and losing the innocent villagers would have loosened your lips, but I guess not.”
The pieces suddenly fall into place. “This was a trap,” I say.
The light dancing in Clay’s eyes confirms my suspicions. He’d caught Nefeli from the start—and that meant, he’d been here at Hades House all along, threatening Persephone and Artemis with the lives of innocents.
“Always a step behind, aren’t you, Lil,” he says.
He tosses his cape back. Metal flashes in the torchlight, and I only have time to register he’s got Hades’ Helmet of Darkness before he’s jamming it on his head.
“No!” I cry, leaping forward.
But I’m too late. He vanishes in a heartbeat.
“He’s after the stone,” I say, whirling to Artemis.
But again, I’m not fast enough. As the words leave my mouth, she screams and falls to her knees, clutching her stomach as golden ichor spreads beneath her hands.
Ladron and I draw our weapons and rush to her side.
“I’m fine. It’s not deep,” the Goddess of the Hunt grits from between clenched teeth. “Go after him. He’s got the stone.”
“It’s too late,” Clay chuckles, snapping into existence a few yards away. He’s grinning and holding the Portal Stone in one hand and in the other, Poseidon’s Trident, dripping Artemis’ blood onto the floor. “At last,” he says, holding up the stone. “You could have saved yourself so much torture and heartache by giving me this to begin with Artemis. Apollo might even be alive still, as well.”
Artemis blanches and at her side, Ladron clenches his jaw.
Clay chuckles. “You lost, Artemis.”
“You can’t leave,” Artemis hisses. “Not with that stone.”
“You can’t really stop me,” Clay informs with a smug smile.
Ladron grips the hilt of his sword, and I know he’s going to attack Clay, just as I know Clay, drunk with the power of the artifacts, is going to exploit them all to create as much hell as he can. I’m not surprised when he vanishes again, and this time, the Prometheus inside me springs to life, bringing finely-honed battle senses.
The barest scuffle of boots against stone. The rustle of cloth. I hear Clay as he rushes past me, straight at Ladron. And at the sudden sizzling crackle of the air, the warning hiss of Zeus’ thunderbolt coming into being, I spring into action.
I’m there, wielding my sword, as with a roundhouse kick at the nearest teetering tower of chests, I send them crashing straight into him.
Clay swears.
“Watch out, Lily—” Ladron’s warning is cut off by a spear whizzing straight past my cheek to embed itself in the stone wall.
I swallow and whirl. This isn’t a game. Clay’s going for blood. “You don’t have to do this,” I say, tilting my head to listen. I hear him to the left and grip my sword while raising the shield for whatever protection it can offer. “Stop this madness, Clay. You don’t need the Portal Stone. We don’t need Earth. We don’t have to do any of this. We can all live in peace.”
He lunges, but I hear him, just before the blow lands and I raise the shield. The impact jars my shoulder and a cloud of dust rises from the rotting leather under the blow. I don’t wait. I attack. Not to kill, but to disarm.
I let my sixth sense guide me, pressing forward and driving him back. “Let’s stop this, Clay,” I continue. “I don’t want to fight you. I just want