The Things Gods Break (The Crucible, #2)

by Abigail Owen

“You say we always become friends?” Persephone huffs a laugh. “Always. Eventually.” Then she pouts a little. “You’re taking longer this time.” “How, exactly?” She tips her head, gaze turning inward as she purses perfect lips. “I think because we’re opposites.” I blink because it’s so in line with what I was just thinking. “Doesn’t that make it harder?” “No, silly. It means I lighten you up, and you make me…” She glances away, biting her lip. “Heavy?” I say in a flat voice. “You were going to say I bring you down. Right?” She rushes to grab my hand. “But in a good way.” “Uh-huh.” I try to shake her off, but it’s like getting rid of a barnacle that has goo-goo eyes.

“Why in the name of the cosmos would you have faith in me that way?” The sunshine is real this time. “I told you. Because you’re my friend.”

She offers me a reassuring smile. Or tries to. It wobbles. “I have always been yours.” Then, like every other fucking time with her, she’s gone.

“Okay?” she asks softly. And…I nod. Not because it’s okay. I don’t know if it’s okay. But at least I know the truth now. If I’m certain of anything, it’s this… I am the one pulling my own strings. Or trying to. Our pasts…and our futures, whatever those might be now…are in my hands.

What’s done hasn’t been done yet. And all of it can be undone.

Then Cronos—the god of time, the King of the Titans, son of Primordials Uranus and Gaia—sits on the ground crisscross applesauce. There’s something you don’t see every day.

Cronos doesn’t answer, but my vision clears, and I can see for myself. Definitely sea lions. “What in the—” I take in where we are with wide eyes. “Seriously?” Cronos chuckles. “Seriously.”

He holds out his hand. “We should tell the others.” Even as I take his hand, I look around us, not wanting to leave this place. He gives me a squeeze. “Fantasy is good, but staying in it to the detriment of your life in the real world is not.” “I know.” “I’ll take you to the real place when we get out.”

The King of the Titans, whose release from this place is so feared, is embarrassed. “Why?” I ask. He seems to know what I’m asking, because a self-deprecating smile tugs one side of his mouth up. “I always loved being a father. I miss it. Miss my children sorely. I guess I just…wanted to give you those happy memories that you craved and remember myself what it felt like—being a father with his daughter—even for a second.”

I pause to look over my shoulder, and Cronos waves me on. So I take that final step. Just as the terrible silence grips me, I think I hear him say, “I trust you, daughter.”

“That fuckhead doesn’t deserve any prayers.” I swallow back a bark of laughter, a strange warmth sparking in my chest. Mutual hatred is a heady bonding agent.

“I could make you roll a rock up a hill and never make it to the top, only to start back over every single day for the rest of eternity.” “I’m pretty sure Zeus came up with that.” The hells he did. “Were you there?”

She should know. She’s seen it. But not yet. This Lyra hasn’t seen shit. Fuck, I hate all things time travel. “You have a perception issue, if you think about it,” she says next.

My entire world narrows to her face. Cosmos, what a question. What happens now. She’s real. She won’t disappear on me. That wasn’t an option I considered when I made my “Lyra is off fucking limits” rules.

When she disappears around the curve, I turn away only to pull up short at the sight of my Lyra high on the hill. Long hair twisted up haphazardly, dressed in some kind of tracksuit that I think I’ve seen before. She’s already turning hazy around the edges. I think maybe she calls to me. Her lips form my name and then only two words. “Trust me.” Then she’s gone. Again. I was right before. I’m so fucked.

I close my eyes, dropping my hand to my side. I could just teleport out of here. Go topside. Try to warn Meike. Or Zai. Any of them. But I’ve tried that, too. So many times. So I stay where I am. And wait.

“Hades helped me during your Lock—” Her eyebrows go from high to low in a fierce frown. “He did what?” Her face contorts with fury. “That squirrelly cheater.”

Then I lift my gaze to the ceiling and past it—past the Underworld, past the Overworld, all the way to Olympus. “When I get back up there,” I tell all the gods who can’t hear me, “we’re going to do seminars on better communication.”

“Holy shit!” My exclamation drowns out Boone’s, which is along the same lines. We both speak at the same time in fits and starts, talking over each other. “Is that…” “It can’t be…” “I definitely saw snakes…” “Don’t look her in the eyes…” “I am right here,” that sweet slither of a voice breaks in. “You could simply ask.”

“Medusa?” I finally ask. There’s a smile in her voice when she answers. “I would clap if I still had my hands.” Oh. My. Gods.

Boone beats me to it. “How are you—” “You may not speak to me,” she says. “Only her.” Yup. She definitely hates men. Given what Poseidon did to her, I don’t blame her.

that bitch of a goddess, Athena—” “Only I am allowed to call her that,” Medusa snaps. “Oh, good grief,” I snap back. “Do you want out of that wall or not? Work with me here, woman.”

“What are you suggesting?” Boone asks. “Carting her head around in a cloth sack like Perseus, hoping her acid blood doesn’t eat through it and create monsters?” “You’ve seen too many movies—” “I no longer bleed,” Medusa says. It’s so hard not to turn around to stare at her. “See,” I say to Boone. “If possible, I would prefer a box,” the gorgon adds. “Perseus’ sack rubbed my face raw.”

“Or at the very least, Hephaestus could create her a new automaton body.” “I do miss my snake tail,” she murmurs. “You aren’t helping,” I shoot over my shoulder. Medusa huffs.

Boone takes a deep breath. “Fine. But she stays here until we can figure out a box situation that will be easy and safe to cart.” “What did he say?” Medusa asks me overloudly. “I have trouble listening to men.”

“This was a bad idea,” he shouts into the side of my head. He’s probably right. “We had to try it.”

“Thank the gods,” I say between breaths. “About fucking time,” Iapetus says. And, maybe for the first time ever, I grin at the jerk.

“Later,” he says. “Yeah, right,” Persephone mutters. Spring-and-sunshine woman knows how to mutter. I like her a little better for that.

Why did I have to find out this information so late? I could have told Hades sooner and not be hanging my life and future on this bad rom-com, comedy-of-errors maneuver.

“I am telling you that the version of me standing before you is the future of the girl in your bed right now. I’m telling you that if you do this, as hard as it will be for both you and for her, you will still win my heart in the end. But more importantly, she’ll live through the games, and we will both be exactly where we need to be when they’re over.” “Together?” I demand. She better fucking say together. Her smile doesn’t waver. “Eventually, everything will work out the way it’s supposed to.”

“The god of death and future King of the Underworld struck down by love at first sight.” I huff a self-deprecating laugh. “Aphrodite would be ecstatic if she knew.” Lyra chuckles. “Yes. She would.”

“Whatever trouble I get into, I promise you I can get myself out. I don’t need you for that. I just need you to wait and hold me afterward.” “I’ve waited for you this long.”

“You can do this,” she whispers against my lips. “I promise. I’m telling you the way through. I need you to have faith in us. In the us I promise we become.” Why does it feel like she’s still not telling me something important? But I can’t fight her any more. I don’t want to. I press my lips to hers one last time before gentling and putting my forehead to hers, wrapped tightly around each other, eyes closed, breathing her in. Then there’s a terrible, endless emptiness I’ve become so familiar with over millennia. When I open my eyes, I’m alone.

Cronos proceeds to sit next to me against the wall. He sticks his feet out in front of him, leather-sandalled. I don’t know why I have to fight down the sudden urge to laugh at the sight of a Titan’s toes.

“I haven’t seen that far out yet.” “Then we still have nothing.” I know. That’s what hurts the most, the ache of it always there. Right where my heart should be. Because if we can’t trust in each other, we have…nothing. And if I never return to him, we have nothing. Maybe Hades and I had nothing all along.

“Kiss me,” she whispers. Demands. I grin. She will be mine. My queen.

“What do you want, then?” Everything. “Your fucking eternity.”

“I want more.” I echo that need aloud. But I’m not just talking about pleasure. “I want your heart. Your soul. Your fate. Your future. All of it.”

“All of you for all of me.” My heart goes from dead to exploding with elation. “Done.”

I follow her over the edge—incandescent, indescribable, ineffable. Rapture. She’s mine.

His frown is slow to come on. “How—” “The Hades in the Lock.” I rush to catch him up with my thinking. “He tends to have a lot of answers.” A grim sort of amusement steals across the Titan’s features. “It appears my son can’t resist you even down here.” Warmth spreads through my cheeks unexpectedly. “That’s not the reason—”

“You’ll be with me—” I take another step. “Except that you aren’t him. Not all of him. And I need—” The way his face spasms, I don’t keep going, swallowing the words back. “Don’t you see? I can’t leave him up there thinking he did this to me, blaming himself for all eternity.” Something in his eyes dies. “But you can leave me down here for an eternity, getting only glimpses of you?”

“I should keep you here with me,” he murmurs for me alone. “I—” He looks me right in the eyes. “I won’t, Lyra. I wouldn’t do that to you. Even if it means we end up enemies.” My hand, still resting on his back, curls into his shirt. “Hades.” His name comes out as a whisper. And he closes his eyes against it. “Go, my star. Before I change my mind.”

“It’s okay,” Cronos says. “This was my choice.”

“Please,” I choke out, shaking him a little. His expression gentles, turning tender. “This is what love looks like, Alani.” My chin wobbles, tears blurring his face. I dash my arm over my eyes. “But I need you—” I cut off the plaintive wail in my throat. Cronos puts his hands to my face, wiping my hot tears away. “I have always thought of you as a daughter.”

“One day, you’ll understand.” He glances past me to Aphrodite, who stands at my back. “I am the sacrifice.” “No!” I try to pull away. To whirl on the goddess and take his place. But he holds me fast, and behind me, I hear her end it. “So be it.” I’m vaguely aware that she sounds…resigned. “Your test starts now.”

I feel Cronos slip something into my hand and manage to look down at the little carved butterfly. He put the pieces back together. I force my head back up only for my eyes to go wide, my agony turning to panic because Cronos is glowing. Glowing and…disintegrating. Horror steals any of the breath left in my body, and I choke. Even dying, he’s stronger than me. Holding me steady, he leans forward and places a soft kiss on my forehead, like a blessing, and whispers words I don’t hear. Then he releases me and, before I can stop him, takes a step down the platform toward the circling wall of flame, still dissolving. Already dead.

“A father should always be the one who sacrifices for his child.” My knees give out, unable to hold the weight of my heartbreak any longer, and I fall to the ground. “No! Please, no.” “Tell Rhea that I will love her even in the ether.” One more step down. “Tell my children that their faces are the images I held on to when I died. That I always loved them.”

“Father,” I whisper brokenly. “Don’t go.” The trace of his smile is the last thing I see before he pitches himself into the flames, gone too fast for me to comprehend.

I think they must be circling me. Are they going to rip me apart? Is time vindictive? I’m the reason Cronos is gone. Is time going wild without its ruler?