The Wicked Within (Gods & Monsters #3)

The Wicked Within (Gods & Monsters #3) Page 31

Until Dora’s laughter flowed through the nave, carrying the sick tone of cruelty and delight. Athena crawled over, her eyes big with hope. She tugged the basket to her and looked inside. The child was still stone. Misery twisted her features. “No! It didn’t work!” She lifted her head, her green eyes darkening as she found me. She was laid bare, all of it there, the torment, the grief, the raw defeat. And then the rage came. “You idiot! It didn’t work!”

She came at me, hitting me hard and sending us tumbling down the two sanctuary steps and into the aisle. She straddled me, hands around my neck and squeezing. Sebastian lunged, but Apollo tackled him in a bear hug. I grabbed Athena’s wrists, lungs straining, pressure building in my face, and through all the pain and fear, I couldn’t miss her devastation, her thousand-year-old sorrow coming through her madness. My heart was hammering, and it burned with . . . sympathy . . . because I knew the outcome. I knew as my power uncoiled and snaked through my body, aware, this time not leaping up for a quick strike, but building, slithering down my arms and into my hands and fingertips.

Our eyes met. Her squeezing stilled. She knew too. And it didn’t feel good, to know I was going to kill her, to see the realization, the desolation and acceptance, the weariness in her eyes.

The blast that flowed out of me was hot and all-consuming. She let go and pushed off, stumbling to her feet and walking a few steps away as I sat up. Everyone had gone still. Stopping in the aisle, Athena glanced over at Artemis, who’d been released by Horus and was openly crying, and then at her brother, his arms still around Sebastian, his eyes glassy too.

She loved them. They loved her.

As messed up as Athena had become, they’d stood by her. Then she turned slightly and looked toward the basket sitting on the sanctuary steps as her body began to harden.

A tiny cry echoed in the church.

A baby’s cry.

Frantic horror filled Athena’s eyes and my heart. Oh God. If she’d just waited, just let my power work through a thousand years of stone! And now she was dying as her baby lived. Spurred by an intention I didn’t fully understand, I crawled on my hands and knees to the basket. A beautiful baby boy gazed up at me with round green eyes, his chubby arms moving up and down.

Carefully I lifted him from the basket and took him to his mother. Marble had eaten its way up her shoulders. The love in her eyes made my throat ache as she stared at her child. Her living child, with pudgy cheeks, perfect lips, bright-green eyes, and a fuzz of soft black hair on his head. “Turn me back,” she begged in a broken, choked voice, tears filling her eyes and spilling over. “Please, turn me back.”

I found myself reaching out to touch her, to save her. Yet my power didn’t leap to life. It was muted, depleted. It needed a little time. And time was against us. But still I tried.

I expected hate or anger when she realized it was over, but Athena simply returned her attention to her son, the child she loved above all else. He gazed up at her and made a cute baby sound, and then he smiled.

“Archer, my son . . . ,” she whispered, marble closing over her lips, her cheeks, freezing the tears on her face, then claiming the color of her eyes.

And she was gone. Athena was gone.

For a moment no one moved or spoke. Then Dora snorted. “Not exactly how I pictured it happening, but satisfying nonetheless. Nice touch, letting her see what she’d be missing. I believe I’ve grown a new respect for you, gorgon.”

I hiked the baby higher on my hip. “I didn’t do it to hurt her; I did it to . . . ” How could I explain? I hated Athena, what she’d done to my family and so many others, but in her moment of pure suffering and heartbreak, I could not bask in her pain. I’m not sure what that made me, but I couldn’t help but think of my mother. What she would have given to see me one last time. The baby cooed and gurgled, its chubby arms and legs jerking, delighting in moving. And I knew I’d done the right thing.

Dora still had the knife poised over my father’s chest. “You’d better step away from my father, witch,” I said, deadly calm, before turning to Mel. “Take my mother back.” Mel nodded in a daze, shocked Athena was gone. As she disappeared, I held on to the image of my mother’s beautiful, bright soul, committing it to memory.

Apollo released Sebastian and shot out his hand. His bow, which had dropped amid the damaged pews, flew into his hand. Artemis and Menai raised their bows, arrows pointed at Dora. Horus joined them, a blade appearing in his hand and lengthening into a wicked curve. His action garnered him a surprised look from Apollo and Menai, but not from Artemis. She just dipped her head in thanks.

“I’m starting to believe no one likes me,” Dora said flatly.

“No one ever did,” Artemis shot back.

“Except my maker. And you all just hated that, didn’t you? That I was Athena’s favorite? I loved her above all others! Me! And what does she do but betray my trust, betray me by offering my child in place of hers.”

“You’re mad,” Apollo said coldly. “You could not have stood against Athena, nor can you stand against us.”

Dora rolled her eyes. “Think I would come here, set all this in motion if I wasn’t protected, if I didn’t think I could win? You seem to forget the Aegis your dear sister dropped into the waves when she set her hurricanes upon this city.”

“You have Zeus’s Aegis, his shield,” Artemis said, disbelieving.

Horus cursed.

“What?” Dora glanced down at her armor. “Did you think this was just a pretty piece to wear into a battle? It is more than that. I found it. I made it better. I gave it life. I am a witch of great power, trained by Hecate and Athena alike. I took Zeus’s Aegis and stripped its Titan god skin; it is the skin that gives the shield its power, and I nurtured it, grew a tiny egg into something new in the womb of the Titan skin and the bayou. A living shield.” She laughed. “My very own shield maiden. A living, breathing Titan.”

The hell?

“Violet. Show yourself, my dear.”

The breath whooshed out of me.

I watched, horrified, as the strange breastplate withdrew from Dora like a shroud, pooling in front of the altar, growing higher and more substantial until it became Violet. Our Violet.

Dear God. Violet was a Titan?

“Now,” Dora said, “I want that child. I want it dead like mine.”

My gaze went to Violet. She’d been raised in the bayou by Dora. I couldn’t wrap my head around it, but I knew one thing: I would never let Dora lay a hand on the child in my arms. “Bring me the child,” Dora demanded, her wicked eyes locked with mine.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her to suck it. My anger was rising. I swallowed, holding the baby a little tighter, my hand going to the back of its soft head as it looked over my shoulder at whatever was behind me. “You’ve had your revenge, Dora,” I said, my attention flicking between her and Violet, who waited so quietly beside the altar. “It’s over. Athena’s separated from her child forever, just as you are from yours.”

Dora’s expression went shrewd. “Unless you change her back. And we can’t have that now, can we?” Her hand shot out, power surging straight for me. I covered the baby and spun as Dora’s power hit the statue of Athena square in the chest. It toppled to the sounds of her siblings’ shouts. It happened so fast. Athena crashed to the floor and shattered even as Apollo slid down to catch her. He was too late.

In disbelief, I swung around to Dora. The patient man that my father was, he’d waited for the perfect opportunity to strike. Dora was without her shield. In a flash, he grabbed Dora’s hand that held her knife, spun off the table, and was around her back, holding the knife to her throat before I could blink.

But Dora was just a fraction quicker, tracing to the front of the altar as my father went to slide the blade across her throat.

“Violet, to me,” Dora commanded.

With a solemn look my way, Violet dispersed and her darkness latched onto Dora, clutching her, this time covering her from ankle to neck and coming over her head to protect her skull and face, leaving only her eyes, nostrils, and mouth visible.

Damn it.

We couldn’t hurt Dora without hurting Violet.

High-pitched laugher filtered through the cathedral again, zipping and zinging and gathering behind Dora. More spites and vices. Great. My father shoved Kieran behind him.

“Get me that child and the gorgon,” Dora barked.

The horrors flew at me, and it was then that the full force of my predicament hit me. I had a baby in my arms. A tiny being to protect. Cradling him against my chest, I bolted down the aisle, leaping over debris, heading for the door, panic spurring me on. Almost there.

The next thing I knew Henri and Dub were there, running through the vestibule toward me, both angry and itching for a fight. “That stupid witch locked us—”

“Fight the horrors!” I yelled. “Violet is on Dora, don’t hurt her!”

They gave me incredulous, confused looks, but there wasn’t time to explain. A horror landed in front of the exit, blocking my path. I veered right. And I learned very quickly that one way to destroy Dora’s horrors was by fire. Dub came in very handy. He and Henri ran to my father and Kieran, my father using her sword against one of the spites.

Dora appeared in front of me. I slid to a stop.

“Violet,” I said, backing away, trying to get through to her as Athena’s baby sensed my panic and started to cry. “Don’t let her do this.” But Dora had raised Violet. Dora was the only mother she’d ever known. But still, I tried. “Don’t let her take this baby. Please, Violet.”

I was powerless, unable to risk turning Violet to stone along with Dora.

“Goddamn it, Vi!” Dub yelled. “Get the hell off that witch!”

Henri shouted Violet’s name too. So did Sebastian.

Dora snatched my arm in her cold grip. I knew the horrors were keeping the others busy. I was on my own. No sooner did I have that thought than Sebastian wrapped an arm around my waist. He pulled against Dora’s hold. She pulled back.