annais min was the god among mortals, the death that came along with life. now more than ever, she knew the cost of her existence, of what hades had done when he chose to pursue her mother. everything came down to her and the four other min girls, t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CHAPTER NINE: RAISED AND MAIMED
■ ■ ■ ■ ■
UNDERGROUND WAS NOT JASON'S favourite place. He stuck close to Annais' side as they paced through the shadows, gazing up at the dewy limestone ceiling like he feared it would fall on their heads. Each footstep sounded like a gunshot in the empty silence. Not a single living soul had ventured down those stairs in quite some time. But the dead... the dead. Annais could feel them standing against the walls, parting like the red sea to drag them in deeper.
"This place..." she breathed, afraid to speak louder than a whisper. The words echoed and became a wail, a dead girl's lament with no one to hear it. "I don't like it."
Gaea could defeat them so easily, and no one would be wiser for it.
Beside her, Jason flinched. At first, she thought it was because of her voice, abrupt as it was, but he'd swung around to brandish his sword at a dusty statue of the glowering Diocletian.
"Don't have a heart attack on me, Grace," Annais chuckled as he sighed and lowered his sword. "Just breathe."
He shot her a pointed look, raising his eyebrows at her brilliant advice, before reaching into his pocket for a slip of paper. Annais caught a flash of Reyna's name on the front before he tucked the message between the statue's foot and the pedestal it stood on.
"Alright--"
Whatever Jason was going to say was drowned out by a soft, inquisitive voice greeting them from the passage they'd just exited. "Hello."
Annais gasped. She hadn't heard the footsteps following them. Once again, Jason flinched and whirled around. This time, his sword cut through ancient limestone, and Diocletian's head shattered across the cobblestone.
"That wasn't very nice."
"Who are you?" Annais called out in her best attempt at confidence. Like the next few seconds weren't so uncertain.
Out of the shadows came the angel-man from earlier. At his feet sat a wicker basket topped with a red and white picnic blanket and a bundle of fruits. "Hi there." He turned back to Jason. "So? What did Diocletian ever do to you?"
"Well -- I, uh--"
His voice trailed off as the air swirled around his feet. The shattered marble glued itself back together bit by bit, floating through the air to rest on its pedestal once more. Untouched, no cracks remaining across Diocletian's stern expression.
Out of sheer surprise, Jason lowered his sword. Annais raised her own in his place, a precautionary measure even though she had no reason to believe the angel-man was dangerous. "It was an accident. You startled me."
Angel-man laughed. "Jason Grace, the West Wind has been called many things. Warm, gentle, life-giving, and devilishly handsome." Annais scanned his tank top and sandals with a scrunched up nose. Oh, yeah. Talk about sex appeal. "But I have never been called startling. I leave that crass behaviour to my gusty brethren in the North."
