The Things Gods Break (The Crucible, #2)

by Abigail Owen

“As far beneath the house of Hades as from earth the sky lies.” ~The Iliad, Homer

Fuck the universe. I knew it hated me. I just didn’t think it would be this petty.

I think for a wildly hopeful minute that the gates might give way, and then…the pounding stops. And so does my heart, leaving me hollow inside.

“We’ve met.” I rear back before I can bury the reaction. Met the godfather of world-ending daddy issues? “Nope. Not even a little bit.”

“I know you well, Lyra Keres,” Cronos says. Then grows scary serious in a way that makes me still. “You will be our savior.”

“You’re wrong about being useless,” he says, still calm, still quiet. “You are very useful to me. And I will punish anyone who harms the one who will free me.”

“It might be safer down there anyway,” Cronos says. “I hope you do not die this time.”

“Everything that currently is will be stripped from your memory, replaced with a new history and what you’ve always wanted most.”

A choice that is not really a choice. I have to go through this.

Grief doesn’t always come from losing someone—it also comes from realizing they were never really yours to begin with.

“You are the only one worthy of us, Lyra Keres,” a hissing and yet sweet voice says inside my head. I swing my attention back to the Nightmares, who rise from their bows in an oddly uniform motion. “When the time comes, we will follow you, Mistress. You have only to command.”

Was I seriously going to think what’s the worst that could happen? Maybe Hades is right and my sense of self-preservation is broken.

Cerberus finally grunts and steps off me. “Cerberus stay?” he asks. “Maim goddess?” He’s still young and learning language.

If she’s Glinda, then—with my green eyes and long black hair twisted haphazardly on my head, thanks to no mirrors—I am clearly the Wicked Witch of the two of us. Awesome. Love that for me.

Fuck. Lots of fucks. Because sometimes one just isn’t enough.

“Look at me, little goddess.”

“Satisfaction,” I whisper. I remember. “Possessiveness. My Hades would have looked at me in the same way.” I tilt my head, studying him. “But does he actually love me?”

“You always come out with more of an understanding of what’s happening.” He indicates Hades’ Lock with a nod. “He always tells you, and it never resets anything.” “Yeah. Well, fuck you.”

Is he for real right now? “Why would I trust someone who decapitated and castrated his own father?” “For a good reason,” he says, his voice a rolling grumble.

“I could rend your soul from your corpse and cast it down into the Underworld with merely a thought.” Or kiss her until she turns hazy and warm in my arms. Both have their appeal.

“You won’t even tell me who she is?” It’s not the first time he’s asked. I narrow my eyes. “You have never feared me enough, I think.”

“Never mind.” “I don’t stop minding just because you say so,”

“I won’t kiss you. Or touch you in any way that is intimate.” I manage to clear my throat. “That is…” Disappointing? Maddening? Makes me want to channel Aphrodite and see if I can tempt him past his conviction? “Probably for the best.”

“That was terrible!” Cronos yells down at me from where he stands at the start of the obstacle course while I make my way to the edge of the pool. “Are you even trying?” I cling to the wall and glare up at him. “I guess I just love getting shocked and drowned over and over,” I yell back. “Who knew I had that kink?”

“Your name means death bringer,” Cronos tells me. “As Hades’ queen, it is your appropriate and true name.” “Death bringer,” Boone mutters at me. “Of course that would be what your name means.”

Of course the middle of the battle between Titans and gods is when I would manifest my unique power. And what a ridiculous fucking power. Glamours. That makes me the goddess of what? Lies? Fake shit? Mental and emotional manipulation? I want a different power. This one sucks.

I take in the angry-looking burns with more interest. “I’d say he hit you.” “Glanced off me,” Boone insists. “Yeah. Okay.” Male pride is such a sad thing to behold sometimes.

The goddess of irony and I really need to have a chat someday. I don’t know why she keeps targeting me, but it feels personal.

“None of the truly worst consequences happened today,” she points out. “So I don’t know what you’re whining about.” Fuck this.

“What is your judgment, my queen?”

How, in the course of only a few short encounters across the span of my long life, has she become this…important…to me? “You’re a fool.” I don’t know if I’m saying that to her…or myself. “Maybe I am,” she murmurs.

“I will never let you harm him.”

“What was what?” I ask him. “That noise you just made.” I guess I did make that out loud. “Just me thinking.” “And thinking requires noise?” he prods. I turn my head in the direction of his voice. “You can feel free to think out loud less.”

He makes an annoyed sound at the back of his throat, and I smile, because making him annoyed is quickly becoming a favorite pastime. Immature? Yes. Satisfying? Very.

“That seems…sketchy?” “I’m not sure what ‘sketchy’ is,” Cronos murmurs, staring at the wall where the door is. “But it doesn’t seem good.”

“Oh my gods.” “Did it work?” Cronos asks hesitantly, like he doesn’t entirely want to know that this was another failure. “It worked.” Cronos straightens, then glowers at Koios. “That’s all it took?” Koios shrugs. “Simple is always better.” Iapetus barks a laugh. “Something Cronos will never learn.” “You, either,” Koios points out. Iapetus snaps his mouth shut.

“My son told me that some things, no matter if they are destined to face imminent doom, are too precious not to be protected.” “Then why would you break it?” He takes one half and puts it in my hand, curling my fingers around the broken piece. I can feel the smoothness of the carving as well as the jagged edge of the break against my skin. Then he holds up his half. “When you find yourself questioning anything in there, especially what you have to do, hold on to this. It will feel the same no matter what is happening. It will ground you to reality. And when you get out, I’ll put the pieces back together.”

“What are you doing?” My mother tugs on my grip as I drag her behind me through the fields. “Running,” I lob at her over my shoulder and tighten my grip. I only just bite back a Duh.

Fear grabs hold of me by the throat, threatening to cut off my air, and the instinct to save myself screams through me, urges me to dump the piece of shit I got in the parent lottery and run. But I won’t. Damn her. I won’t.

“Fuck me.” Which is, of course, when another table appears with another round of hallucinogen in a shot, this one green in color. “I take it back,” I say to the absent goddess. “Not fuck me. Fuck you.”

“What’s next? Psychedelic clowns? Eating my own liver? Talking about my feelings?”

“Who am I saving now?” I mutter. “What in the fires of all the hells are you doing here, Keres?” a grinding voice demands. I feel myself hunch over at the sound of that familiar, bullying tone. “I had to fucking ask.”

Well…Tartarus take me now. Then I realize that epithet doesn’t apply well to me anymore. Tartarus already took me. Many, many, many times. I sigh.

“Stop worrying about your fate. It will become clear enough with time.” “Damn,” I mutter. “I’m really starting to hate time.”

Cronos reaches over to pat my head. “I just want your happiness.”

We fall into silence about the same time that the others stop talking as well. A quiet takes over the chamber, one that grows heavier by the second, each of us caught up in our own thoughts as we wait. And wish things could be different.

“You would do that?” The words force their way out of my mouth, sounding small. “You could hurt me?” He grabs me roughly by the shoulders, and the look in his eyes is so cold, so remote that I can’t help the shiver that spears me like a harpoon. The true Hades has looked at me that way before—when he was trying to break my heart purposely. I’ve lived it twice now. “I keep telling you,” he snarls. “I’m not him. I’m a different beast entirely.” I don’t know what I’m expecting. Maybe a quick snap of my neck, maybe a surge of power ending me, all before I wake up in a new timeline, oblivious to everything that has happened. But it doesn’t come. I search his eyes—sharply silver and still so damned cold. “Then get it over with,” I whisper. His jaw works for several heartbeats before a new kind of anger flashes across his features. “Fuck,” he snaps. Then his mouth is on mine.

His mouth is on mine, but unlike the last kiss, this time, I feel it. I feel him. Hades. My Hades. It’s like a piece of his soul is here with me, and the way he’s kissing me—harsh and demanding, like he doesn’t want to but can’t help devouring me—that’s my Hades, too.

“I don’t understand any of this.” Frustration flattens his lips. “I can’t do this,” he says quietly, almost like he’s speaking to someone else not here. Then his shoulders pull back, body in a rigid state of rejection that hurts me to see. “You may stay here until it’s safe to leave.” Then he disappears. Not like smoke or even teleporting. It’s like he was never here to begin with. A hallucination.

The door to the Lock slides open, and I fall back, smacking my head on the ground. “Ouch,” I grumble, feeling the spot. Cronos leans over, appearing upside-down to me. “That was a silly place to sit,” he whispers.