Book 3 Chapter 26
1663 Words
26
Once it’s decided, Themis is all business.
“This is a death match,” she announces. “There will be no interference.” She casts a dark look at Hermes and Hades, but I’m more worried about Val. He doesn’t have a voice, but he doesn’t need one; his emotions are plain on his face. He would happily kill Zee for me...if he could.
But only I can do this.
“Contestants.” Themis beckons to us, bringing me and Mr. Zee within reaching distance of one another. We face off, my cheeks still hot with rage, his red with ambrosia. “Acknowledge each other,” Themis commands.
I spit at Zeus, and he flicks me off. Apparently, this is enough to cover the bare minimum of “acknowledging” each other. Themis backs away, edging to the side of the stage.
“To prevent any aid being given to either opponent, the fighting arena will be sealed off,” Themis announces, and a thin line of fire creeps from her fingertip. She points at the stage floor, and the fire runs in a perfect circle around me and Zee, meeting itself with a snap. Smoke rises, thick and oily, creating a dome around us.
“Good luck, Edie,” Themis says, and then the smoke rises past her face, blotting out everyone.
There are no onlookers. No well-wishers. No one to cheer or jeer. No one to help or hinder. It’s just me and Zeus, staring each other down in this encapsulated world that only one of us will leave alive.
“I don’t remember your mother,” Mr. Zee says, all pretense at civility dropped. “How could I? There have been so many.”
He’s trying to rile me, trying to get me to make a foolish lunge like I did before. Only this time he’s ready.
I don’t fall for it.
Instead I circle him, the sword light and lithe in my grip, ready to perform its duty. Hopeful for a kill. I don’t rise to his bait, instead watching, waiting for Zee to make a move.
“Although it’s a good thing you unmasked yourself, in the end,” Zeus continues, turning with me as I make my circle. “You’re a pretty little thing, and I do have my weaknesses. What’s one more relative, anyway?”
He feints to the left and I fall for it, side-stepping in the wrong direction. I recover quickly, but he laughs, the sound rolling across the little arena we have to fight in. “Oh, little Edie,” he sighs. “We could’ve had some fun.”
He makes another grab, this one not a fake, and I take to the air, wings snapping out. There’s a split second when I’m above him, his massive shoulders turned away that I see the chance to drop like a rock and bury the sword between his shoulder blades. I lunge downward, but too late. Zeus senses my movement and spins, one arm up defensively.
The sword slides through his arm like butter and blood sprays, catching the light as it flows down his wounded arm.
It takes me by surprise and I don’t adjust my trajectory well, bouncing off Zee’s arm and hitting the side of the dome.
It looks like smoke but feels like stone, and I hit hard, my arm going numb with the impact. The sword clatters to the ground and I fall after it, a crumpled heap.
“Oh please,” Zeus says, striding toward me. “Don’t tell me it’s that easy. Or maybe you are just like your mother, after all.”
“You bastard,” I spit, grabbing the sword and coming back to my feet. Something caves in my side and I’m pretty sure a rib is broken. I switch sword hands, clutching my side with the free one.
“No, you’re the bastard,” Zeus says, conversationally. “In the true sense of the word. You and your trash Moggy boyfriend.”
I rush him, sword out, blind rage sending me at a run.
Zeus grabs my arm at the elbow, almost casually, and sends me flying through the air, headed for another bone-crushing impact with the smokescreen.
I pump my wings, gain some altitude and spin away from the wall, putting some distance between us as well. I’ve got to do what Ocypete told me so long ago—THINK! I’ve got to get his smug voice out of my head and come up with a plan other than blind rage.
“Can’t shift, can you? No, no, no,” Zeus wags a finger at me. “Shift into a dragon and you won’t be able to hold the sword. Damndest things, talons. Good for slashing, bad for fine motor skills.”
“Shut up,” I say, landing a few feet away from him, trying to get my bearings.
“What?” Zeus shrugs. “I’m just trying to help you out, save some time. Think about it, Edie. Shift into a dragon and you can burn me, tear me, bite me…it’s an attractive option.”
It is. Just looking at the drops of his blood on the stage floor has my dragon-self salivating, wanting to know the taste of ichor.
“But…” Zeus forehead crinkles, like he’s actually thinking this out. “It won’t do you much good will it? I mean, I’m the king of the gods. You’ve seen my healing powers, right, Edie? Right?”
His voice shifts on the last word, anger getting into his tone. Mr. Zee twists to show me his arm, open to the bone. It morphs and twists as I watch, muscles knitting themselves back together, tendons reconnecting as the skin seals over it, bright and new as a baby’s.
“See?” Zeus asks, running a hand over the healed arm, and I take a step back, alarmed at how quickly he can rejuvenate when he turns his attention to it. That was nothing like Hermes, who would barely have one wound begun before I struck the next. Even with this sword, I don’t stand a chance of striking a killing blow, not when his wounds close so fast.
I’m still backing away, and my heel slips in a splash of ichor. I go down on one knee, the sword heavy again in my hand as my rage weakens into doubt.
“What’s the point, really?” Zeus asks, still advancing on me. “You shift, you try to burn me, you try to slice me, you try to kill me, and I just keep healing, over and over again. You’ll get tired, and you will get tired, Edie, so you’ll shift back into a human girl, try the sword again, but you’re worn out. You’re exhausted. You don’t have any strength left…and do you know why?”
I’m shrinking away from his leer as he bends over me, pressed against the barrier, tears streaming down my face as the broken rib grinds against my lungs.
“Because you are just a human girl,” Zee whispers in my ear, his mouth pressed against it. “And I am a god. Turn into a dragon, and you drop the sword. It’ll be mine, and you can’t kill me without it.”
He pulls back, smirking. “You’re either a dragon, or you’re a girl, Edie. You can’t be both. So, all that’s left is for you to decide which form you want to die in. I’ll give you ten seconds.”
Zeus walks to the middle of the arena, and cracks his knuckles, ready to use his lightning again. Ready to send me to the underworld with my Mavis.
“Ten… Nine…”
You can’t be both.
It rings in my head, Zeus accidentally giving a voice to everything that has plagued me during my time at Mount Olympus Academy. I’ve been struggling with my dragon self, trying to separate it from Edie, the nice girl who never knew she was anything else. Anything different. Anything more. I’d pushed back against my rage, scared of what it could do. And now, here I am, paying for drawing that line.
“Eight… Seven…Six...”
Zeus is right. I can’t hold the sword while I’m a dragon, and I can’t strike fast enough to counteract his healing powers as a human. But there is one thing a selfish coward like Zeus would never think of, a trick up my sleeve that would never occur to someone who uses students as human shields in order to avoid any harm to himself.
“Five… Four… Three…”
I zip into the air, Zeus’s eyes tracking my movement as he prepares to throw a bolt. “So you want to die as a human with wings? Weird choice, but okay.”
“Two… One.”
I do the one thing Zeus doesn’t expect, the one thing he would never do himself. I raise the sword, and drive it through my own shoulder. The pain is sharp and immediate, the blade parting flesh and grating over bone. But I don’t have time to consider it as I shift in midair, the blade still stuck in my dragon flesh as I ascend, this time with a ball of fire growing in my belly.
Zeus throws lightning, but it meets my fire, causing an enormous explosion that knocks him off his feet. I advance, fire flowing like lava, lighting his robes, his skin crackling black, his hair catching immediately.
He might be able to heal himself, but he feels the pain. His screams say as much. Ichor flows where the skin cracks open, ragged streaks rapidly repairing him as he gets back to his feet, burning and healing at the same time.
I shift back to a human, pull the sword from my own shoulder and drive it home, right through his black and rotten heart.
- Writer
