Furious

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Furies are considered goddesses," he said.

Hector and Jasper walked in front of me, paying no attention to the decorative hallway; contrary to Jasper's panic when he burst through the office door, they gave no impression of hurry in their stride. Whatever they were saying was lost by the time their words reached me: there was too much space between us. I followed them down the hall, around a corner, and to another set of wooden doors, these ones large enough for a giant to stroll through. They made me feel incredibly small, more like a worm than a mighty Fury.

Jasper waved his hand as they approached and the doors swung open with ease. He placed himself in front of Hector and entered the room first, introducing Hades loudly to whomever waited on the other side. Hector followed, back straight, poised. He was impressive, even from behind.

Especially from behind.

Once Hector had crossed the threshold into the throne room the doors began to swing shut.

"Wait!" In a desperate attempt to be part of their meeting, to finally feel like I was a part of something, to have my curiosity sated, I flew. Honest to gods, I flew: without being angry, without anyone trying to attack me, I transformed and took flight.

My body instinctively drew my wings in tightly as I spiraled into the chamber just before the doors clicked shut. I was very impressed with myself. Fleetingly I hoped that Hector had been watching.

"Thanks for waiting, guys," I spat sarcastically.

Nobody was listening to me. Hector sat in his throne at the end of the breathtaking room. The walls were a burgundy color gilded with thin swirling lines of gold inlay that stretched and weaved as they traveled to the high ceiling. Three sets of pillars lined either side of the carpeted runway leading to the base of his throne. The chair itself was a muted golden color, regal but understated, not exactly in disrepair but ancient. Hector sat relaxed in the throne, leaning on against the armrest, one ankle perched on the opposite knee. His suit, the throne, the room itself should have painted him in a different light but he was the same Hector I had become accustomed to seeing.

Jasper stepped in my view. "You are going to screw this up for him if you don't keep your mouth shut. Stay out of sight. Say nothing. Pretend you are not here."

The lamia never spoke so harshly to me before—I did as I was told. He didn't stick around to see if I understood; he knew that I didn't have a choice. Jasper spun away from me and quickly took up a place to the left of Hector's throne, just behind his master.

Standing in front of the throne was a tall, stocky man. Built, toned, muscular—pick a descriptor, any descriptor, and Ares was it. He could have picked me up and tossed me across the room with one arm.

And I could only see the backside of him. Imagine the front side.

"You had enough time to locate the Nectar. You've been given the option to turn over the retched thief. You are done. Zeus is finished playing games, Hector. Do you or do you not have the elixir?" Ares spoke in a booming voice. His words echoed off of the walls, bouncing around the dome of a ceiling.

"You sound tired, Ares. Tell me, without the Nectar, how are you faring?" Hector smiled at his guest as if there hadn't been a threat in his words. "I suspect Hermes, Hera, and the muses are settling into their new roles well. Please convey to them my offer of assistance should they need help with the transition."

Ares roared. "You will bring war upon your realm! Dare not test me, imposter. I will see that your short-lived reign will come to an abrupt end, so help me Zeus. Now give me the Nectar!"