Chapter Twenty-Six

"Sit, relax; no one is aiming to knock you down in here." Here being his study again; where no one could hear my cries if he decided to save everyone else the trouble on the battle field and just take me out now. "I thank you for you patience with me, Autumn; these past few years have not been easy on my realm."

He and I had a very different definition of 'patience'. I did not sit.

"Why can't I remember anything, Hector? Forget all the other burning questions and just answer that one."

He sighed. "I haven't a clue. I will get to the bottom of your memory loss, though. This was not an issue we encountered previously but we are doing things differently with you, I shouldn't be surprised."

"Differently?"

I processed, starting to pace the floor in front of Hector's desk. Seventh child of the seventh generation, they had said. So my father had seven children, Lindsay being one of them, me being the last.

"Tell me that Lindsay and I don't share a father." I recognized the sound of pleading in my voice and yet didn't much care about showing weakness in front of Hector. The most important thing was the answer I craved.

"I cannot. Your father has been attempting to sire new Furies for the better part of the past fifty years. He's older than he looks; most creatures of what you affectionately term "mythology" are. We have longer lifespans than humans; we age slower—if at all. Lindsay was training with me long before you were born."

None of that made me feel better. What could I bring to the table that Lindsay hadn't already mastered?

"What about this seventh child business? If she wasn't the seventh, why even bother?"

Hector looked at me with dead eyes. He knew that she was never going to be the Fury of the prophecy and yet he lead her to believe it anyway. "Back up plan." That was all the explanation he gave before falling into another uncomfortable silence.

Do gods feel remorse for their actions?

"I like to think that though the Fates wove your parents' threads together to create you, as with all of the children your father sired, he really and truly loved your mother." The mother I couldn't remember, you mean? He continued despite my skeptical look. "He spent the most time with her before you were born, and stayed with her for many years after you came into the world. Not a habit he practiced before meeting her, or since."

"And there are seven of us?"

"More; not all of his partners had enough Fury in their veins to produce a Fury offspring and any males were automatically discounted. That's what made you so hard to find. Lindsay was only the sixth Fury child."

"And you think that my generation of Furies is supposed to bring back the original sisters?"

Hector shrugged. "Clotho hinted that we would see a return of power but I regret to inform you that we have yet to see signs of the sisters Tisiphone, Megaera, or Alecto."

A distraction would have been welcome at that moment. I tried not to look at Hector. The room around us seemed to shrink the longer I wanted to be away from him. His assurances about my parents' less-than-fairy-tale romance weren't making me feel better about it. Or about Lindsay, who was nothing like me and yet shared half of my DNA.

She must have gotten her tendency to think she was perfection with wings from her mother's side of the family. Maybe that's where she inherited her sense of humor, too.

"The sister Furies die and reincarnate into a worthy descendant when they deem the situation necessary, Autumn. Just because you are a Fury does not mean you'll be magically imbued with the gifts and power of the originals. From the look on your face I am to assume that you have not finished the history book in your apartment." He assumed correctly. "Allow me to explain: there are three Furies, Tisiphone, Alecto, and Megaera, sisters born of Uranus and Gaia, Titan gods of the sky and the earth. The Furies were well-known for acting as judge and jury in the time before man chose one god over many.

"Tisiphone, the avenger of murder; Alecto, the angry one; and Megaera, the jealous. As it inevitably happens, the sisters are killed and reborn into the body of a woman who bears her blood. That is your father's goal: to give the Furies as many vessels as possible for reincarnation.

"Stop me if I'm boring you," he said. I opened my eyes. My feet were still and I leaned back against the desk, deep in thought.

"I'm not bored, I'm trying to comprehend this story."

Hector's voice was soothing against the chaos inside my brain. "Let me help you understand."

Where to begin? "Three Furies. Reincarnation. Descendants. I understand that much. Assuming that both of my parents are descendants of some ancient mythological creature—"

"You really have to stop referring to yourself as a myth."

"Seriously?" I huffed but Hector only grinned at me and gestured with his hands, go on. "As I was saying, assuming my parents are of a Fury's bloodline, what makes you think that I'm a reincarnation?"

"Simple: you were able to bring out the Fury aspect and physically manifest into the goddess—yes, Furies are considered goddesses—" I shot him a pointed look and he held up his hands in surrender. I didn't care if Furies were goddesses or satyrs "—but before that I knew because you were the last one. The last descendant in the entire world who had reached an age of maturity, who could possibly handle the Fury herself."

Perching on the surface of the desk I studied Hector. He believed what he said, every single word of it. A glimmer of hope danced in his eyes.

"You know, I think I was normal before this," I told him nonchalantly.

"You have never been normal," he said.

But I didn't know that.

"Autumn, you are so much more powerful than you realize. What I need is humanity." Hector continued, "With your moral code and your empathy, you will refrain from taking unnecessary lives. The strength of your humanity will keep the Fury in check, regardless of whether or not the sisters choose you as a vessel. You are the perfect blend of Fury and human and you are exactly what I need. I do not wish to spill blood in this war, only to prove that I can."

"What's the point, then? Why even bother?"

Boys and their competitions over who has the biggest... army.

"For one, they think I know where the Nectar is. When the Nectar was stolen, I was but a child and yet they automatically assume the worst of Hades, past or present. And for two, the Olympians do not see me as an equal. Which, I suppose, I will not be until I have consumed the Nectar."

How the Olympians couldn't see how perfectly Hector fit into the role of Hades, I would never know. They saw what they wanted to see—a built-in villain, a scapegoat. Hector never stood a chance: there was no acceptance in his future.

But I wasn't about to break the news to him.

"Did you steal the Nectar?"

"Do you think I would be waning in strength, reduced to half of my potential and forced to consume a potion derived of the River if I had the Nectar? Don't assume that I enjoy the company of Lindsay and Jasper; they are bound to the Underworld and their presence gives me strength. No, I did not steal the Nectar.

"But I know who did."

Well. I stared at him. "That would have been nice to know, I don't know, a week ago. Why haven't you had any? If you know who has it, just take it."

That would actually solve a lot of problems.

His deadpan answer explained it all. "Then I would be no better than the thief himself, now would I."

"Hector, you could give it back. You wouldn't have to go to war! We could avoid all of the anticipated bloodshed and no other gods have to die. Isn't that what you want?"

"It doesn't matter what I want. The prophecy must be fulfilled, just as the Fates foretold. This is so much bigger than the elixir of the gods and the petty, meaningless war at our doorstep." He paused before adding, "Do you truly wish to leave that badly?"

Did I? Hector stared at me as if, just by staring hard enough, he could read my mind. He danced around questions like a ballerina, but I think I would miss Hector if he weren't in my life. As suddenly as he had entered it, he could be gone.

"Will I remember everything when I go back? I want to remember me. And I want to remember you." While a part of me was appalled that I had said it out loud, Hector and I both knew it was true. I thrived under the desire to impress the Lord of the Underworld. Even though he had a knack for getting under my skin and burrowing himself in my flesh like an annoying, painful splinter, I wanted to show him that I was capable of my destiny.

And having pride in myself was something I would want to remember.

Our deal was that I get to go home if we win; if we lost I would be stuck in the Underworld with Hector. "It doesn't matter if we lose the war."

"Nothing matters if we lose the war." The silence that followed became too stretched, too quite. Changing the subject stopped me from wondering why he was looking at me that way.

Like he knew exactly how much I would miss him. Like he was anticipating a major loss on the battlefield. I hopped to the floor and began pacing again. Sitting across from Hector and having a conversation was beginning to feel a little too friendly.

"I wonder about the old Hades," I said abruptly. "Did his eternity catch up to him without the Nectar?"

In the chair, Hector sat forward, watching me pace. "Hades was the first to slip away into the Elysian Fields. He had experienced the longest reprieve from the Nectar, making him most susceptible to the curse of age when he could not partake due to the Nectar's absence. He simply faded away standing on the shores of the Styx. That's where I found Hades' helmet of invisibility, where it was repossessed by the Fates, I was given a frightening new title, and how I ended up searching for the Nectar."

"Right place, right time, I guess." Little did he know that I had the helmet hidden in a book in my apartment.

Hector stood from his relaxed position and approached me. I kept pacing, walking right by him. Turned back and passed by him again.

"Autumn, be still." He laid his hand gently on my arm, stopping me from passing him a third time. His cool flesh just below the red mark from Lindsay's whip sent a spark through my abused muscles and cooled the flushed skin all over my body. When I looked at him, Hector still had that look in his eyes: he wanted to be inside my head. "You are the only one who yet calls me by my human name."

He hadn't spoken a question, just an observation, but I answered anyway. "For a long time I wanted this to be a dream. And then when I accepted that it wasn't, I figured I was crazy. Calling you 'Hector' made you real in my mind, human, tangible; referring to you as 'Hades' was just a little too much for me."

It was a strong name, an old name, for someone with good taste and a sense of tradition. The man standing in front of me had a sense of old-world manners and the penchant for art and tradition from all ages.

"According to Jasper, you're a very frightening man—god," I corrected myself quickly. "But you don't scare me."

Most of the time, anyway.

"Certainly by now you realize I have a reputation to uphold and that you are equally irritating as you are interesting." He stopped for a beat before continuing quickly. "Thank you. For reminding me what it is to feel human," Hector said. His hand was still on my arm but not constricting—the burning sensation had dissipated completely until I no longer felt any pain in any of my bruises or injuries.

"I never know what's going to come out of your mouth. Sometimes you're so very proper," I told him.

"Sometimes I'm so very old." Hector didn't smile this time.

I was all too aware of his closeness. His breath mingled with mine between us. There was a good chance we were about to—

Jasper burst through the door, the heavy wood banging against the wall with a force that I didn't know the old man possessed.

Imagine that—a real live, bonafide door. In the doorway, Jasper gasped for air.

"My Lord," gasp, "it's Ares. He's in," huff, puff, "the throne room."

As if on cue, thunder rumbled around the room. Something beneath Hector's office was powerful and angry, probably at being kept waiting.

"He's early. I have three more days."

Jasper shook his hear emphatically. "Zeus is impatient. Ares didn't tell me much—you know how he feels about lamia—but I get the feeling that our time is all but up, my lord."

Hector squeezed my hand in promise and then he was walking away, ready to take on the angry god in the throne room. The same confidence from our first encounter oozed out of Hector so thickly I almost couldn't see through the façade.

Naturally, I followed him. I was finally getting answers—despite the confusing moment where I almost kissed Hector—and I wasn't about to stop now.

More answers awaited in the throne room.