Blood of Hercules: Chapter 11

Alexis

“BREAK’S OVER!” The general’s voice ripped through the library like a nuclear bomb, the ones humans had unsuccessfully used against Titans when they’d first appeared.

I sat up with a start and groaned in pain. It felt like I’d been asleep for mere seconds.

“Ten more minutes,” Nyx grumbled as she tightened around my neck. I rubbed at my groggy eyes and moaned louder as I stood up.

Every muscle in my legs screamed with pain. Each step forward was agony, and I wanted to collapse.

I wobbled off the settee and face-planted into a bookshelf.

Great, now inanimate furniture is trying to off me.

My right eye was blurry with exhaustion—my field of vision was 35 percent at best—and my face throbbed where I’d slammed into the bookcase.

“FORM A LINE, INITIATES!”

From the sleepy groans of the other initiates, I wasn’t the only one suffering.

Of course, General Cleandro decided it was the right time to launch into an unhinged rant about the importance of mental toughness and being gritty. His hawk bobbed up and down on his shoulder like it was agreeing.

Birds are the worst.

The hawk let out a screech, and Nyx hissed.

General Cleandro went on and on about being strong.

Personally, I preferred to be mentally weak—it made life more interesting.

Will I kill myself today dramatically or barely survive? Every day was a new mystery.

I didn’t remember walking back into the classroom, but suddenly I was seated in my same spot on the cold rocks, shivering and humming to myself. General Cleandro was seated at the front of the room with his demonic bird on his shoulder.

Professor Pine drew equations on the board with his raven staring at us as he taught Thagorean. Numbers blurred together, and my usually neat handwriting was illegible as I haphazardly scratched out notes.

At some point, class ended and Professor Augustus entered to teach Discipline and Power. Poco loped in behind him, clapping his little black hands together like he was excited.

Professor Augustus spoke slowly, “There are some different rules that govern the lives of mutts and heirs, and this is especially true when it comes to females, since they are so rare. For example, a female mutt may participate in the crucible.”

He looked at me pointedly, black eyes glinting fiercely.

“But,” he continued, “for an heiress to do so would be the highest dishonor, and if she survived—which would be highly unlikely due to her genteel upbringing—extreme methods would be taken, like an arranged marriage, to save her honor.”

His eyes were full of disgust.

He’s trying to shame me in front of everyone.

Blankly I stared back.

I had no honor.

I’d stolen everything I owned.

Lived in a cardboard box for years.

Showered in sinks all winter when the well water was too cold.

His words meant nothing to me. If anything, I was happy for all the heiresses who weren’t allowed to participate in this hell.

It was nice that someone was protecting them.

Stay honorable, sisters.

Augustus arched a dark brow at me, then looked away and continued, “Differences in how the rare female heiress is treated aside—there are four things common to all Spartans above the age of twenty years old, Olympian and Chthonic.”

He held up four fingers, lips turning up into a smile as he talked to everyone else.

A headache throbbed as he lectured.

“First—immortality after you turn twenty years old.” He put down one finger.

“Our bodies get stronger, our senses keener, with age—although, Spartans are not infallible and will go into a coma if injured or starved long enough. Cutting our bodies into small pieces and scattering them will also ensure we remain in a coma.”

Do they offer that somewhere for free? Or do I have to pay for it?

Smoldering black eyes glanced at me spitefully, like he foresaw a coma in my future.

Same.

His full lips pursed with disgust.

“Second—” Augustus put down another finger. “Enhanced intelligence.”

He scoffed like he didn’t think it applied to us.

“Third—leaping or teleportation across the globe. When a Spartan first leaps, they can only go to a place they consider their domus, or home. Usually this is to a person you have a strong connection with.”

His upper lip furled as he put down another finger.

“Don’t be fooled,” he said. “Spartan leaping is extremely difficult to master. If your focus wavers, you can end up in the wrong location—which most of the time, is the middle of the ocean. Some of you will never be able to do it. However, we will endeavor to begin teaching you how to clear your mind in the fall—if you survive that long.”

He put down his last finger. “Fourth, and lastly, Spartans have the unique ability to take an oath.”

I rocked back and forth as I tried to warm myself up.

“Spartan oaths . . . are extremely serious.” His baritone voice dropped an octave in warning. “The oath is a binding contract formed when a Spartan looks into another Spartan’s eyes, and is thought to be an ancient form of hypnotism that changes the neural pathways of our brains.”

He spoke slowly. “Both Spartans have to say the Latin words to cement an oath—and you can only have three bonds, the golden number, with a single person.”

He shook his head. “But this is a relic of ancient days. Today, no one willfully binds themself outside of Spartan marriages and animal protector bonds—immortality is a dangerously long time to be stuck to a promise. That is why this new marriage law has everyone up in arms.”

The class whispered to one another.

Augustus frowned, dark eyes flashing.

Since he’s already twenty-six, does that mean he has to marry this year? His poor spouse.

He stood up taller and gestured down to where Poco was gnawing with his fangs on a piece of chalk.

When the rabid raccoon saw he was being summoned, he gleefully threw himself at Augustus and raced up his torso. He hung off Augustus’s neck, then flung his little head back and forth, trying to eat the long two-toned ponytail.

Okay, that is cute, people. Someone needs to take a picture.

Augustus sighed but didn’t stop Poco, like he was used to his antics.

Instead, he said, “An animal protector is gained through taking a Spartan oath. Once again, if you survive this summer, you will get access to the creature menagerie located beneath this mountain.”

His dark eyes narrowed. “Don’t think gaining a protector is easy. Some of the strongest initiates in history failed to graduate from this academy because no animal would bond with them.” He glared at me.

“Animals can sense both the levels of power in our veins and the nature of our souls. They see us better than we see ourselves.”

His scowl deepened.

“History teaches us that animals can feel a person’s aura,” Augustus said. “A protector chooses you—not the other way around, like most wrongly believe. When it’s clear that an animal wants to bond with you, you lock eyes and say ‘domus.’ If it agrees to the bond, it will hold your gaze, and its eyes will change to your color as the connection is cemented.”

I blamed my state of exhaustion for noticing the dozens of veins on Augustus’s tan forearm. It was unfair how attractive he was.

The cute racoon hanging off him also really helped.

I wonder if there’s an inappropriate drawing of him on the Spartan Lifestyle Page?

The baby onesie I’d been wearing when the orphanage found me also had “1/23/2080” engraved on it in gold stitching. They thought it was my birthday, which meant I was an Aquarius.

An ancient magazine at the library said I had an independent, loyal, quiet, and easily distracted personality.

Apparently, I was distracted by smutty drawings of male genitalia.

I’m going to hell.

“If the animal does not agree to the bond—or sees something in your soul it doesn’t like,” Augustus said gravely, “your mind will boil from the inside, and we will kill you to put you out of your misery.”

I choked on my spit.

He flashed a mean glare in my direction.

Ah, what? Repeat that part.

“But you don’t need to worry about that right now,” Augustus said. “There will be a day in December when everyone bonds with an animal . . . hopefully.”

That “hopefully” was not comforting.

“Enough talk about protectors,” Augustus said. “You all need to focus on getting in touch with your power source.”

He sat down gracefully at the front of the room, and Poco perched on top of his head, draped over his spiky crown, like an obese hat.

That can’t be comfortable.

“Now—we meditate,” Augustus ordered.

I closed my eyes and immediately fell into a peaceful, trancelike state.

Just kidding—I fell asleep sitting up.

Clap.

I jolted awake.

“What did you experience while meditating?” Augustus asked as he glared at us suspiciously. Poco was belly-up, asleep, across his head.

No one spoke.

General Cleandro grabbed the black box, and the tall heir with blond hair shot his hand in the air. He was one of the boys who’d studied instead of sleeping during the break.

Augustus smiled at him. “And you are?”

“Cassius, heir to the House of Hermes.” The blond initiate uncrossed his legs and showcased his ankles—flesh-colored wings detached from his golden skin and fluttered at his heels. “When I meditated, I became aware of a pleasurable tingling in my head. I could also feel all the built-up power inside my legs.”

Nice. He has cankles.

The freakish wings fluttered faster.

Augustus said something about harnessing our powers, but I was too cold and tired to pay attention.

He glared down at me like he suspected I was an idiot—which was ironic because Poco was gnawing on his crown—and I deeply regretted being born.

Time continued its slovenly march forward.

Defense and Power blended into Thagorean class, then Lost Classical Lore.

I didn’t take notes.

The chilled air of the mountains penetrated my bones.

Latin stories about Cyclopes blended into mathematical equations that predicted the future, then were replaced with hours of meditating (sleeping with my eyes open).

Am I even alive?

I couldn’t remember.

In the middle of a depressive episode, I raised my hand. “Can I use the b-b-bathroom?”

Augustus arched a dark brow, skeptical, since we hadn’t eaten or drank anything for days, but then he scoffed and pointed at the door.

“Quickly—but don’t expect special treatment because you’re a girl,” he said, and Poco pointed with him. “You’re the one who decided to participate in this.”

Did I? I don’t remember anyone giving me an option. Also, since when does the toilet constitute special treatment?

I hobbled out of the classroom, skin prickling under Augustus’s intense glare, then collapsed onto a broken toilet seat and cried.

Rust scratched through my toga and probably gave me a venereal disease, but I didn’t even care.

He hates me.

I’m so tired and cold.

So hungry.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

Sobs racked through me.

“Alexis Hert.” Nyx became visible, purple eyes glowing against gleaming black scales. “You are the strongest person I’ve ever met—and I’ve met all manner of Spartan heroes.”

I cried harder.

She leaned closer and hissed, “You’re the same girl who befriended a monster without fear. You’ve fought every day of your life for yourself and Charlie. You’ve lived your entire life being strong—don’t you dare give up now.”

“You’re not a monster,” I gasped, wiping snot off my face.

“Kid—we both know that’s not true.”

Tipping my head back, I whispered, “I don’t want to live like this. I just can’t.”

I held my wrists, which ached with phantom pains.

Life was finally supposed to get better—not worse.

I wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Not anymore

I can’t do this.

“It’s temporary.” Nyx’s tongue flickered across my tear-stained cheek. “Do it for Charlie—he’s waiting right now for his big sister to come home to him. Don’t let him down.”

Sucking in air, I dropped my head into my palms.

My little brother was scared and alone, living in the woods.

Pull yourself together, woman.

I hummed loudly, pressed my palms into my eyes, and focused on a peaceful melody.

Time passed.

Breathing shallowly through my teeth, I wrapped my fingers around the “C+A” tattooed across my forearm. “I can do this,” I whispered.

“Yes,” Nyx hissed. “You can, and you will.”

Using toilet paper to wipe the tears and snot off my face, I stood up and slowly hobbled back into the classroom.

As I collapsed back into my seat, Professor Augustus opened his mouth to say something about my extended bathroom break. His gaze met mine, and he closed his mouth, jaw clenching. Mercifully he said nothing.

Whatever he saw on my face kept him silent. But the corners of his eyes crinkled, and his mouth pinched, like he was distressed.

I wiped at a tear, rocking in place.

He snuck glances at me for the rest of class. His expression tightened as time passed, until he was a dark cloud of fury.

What is he mad about now?

The professors traded places—again and again, endlessly. Information was thrown at us in a steady torment of words and numbers.

Time lost all meaning.

“Leo Apollo,” Professor Augustus said, and I barely registered that he was speaking.

“Leo!” Augustus repeated with a sigh.

Titus’s crony, a muscular boy with a shaved head, was lying on the ground behind me with his eyes closed.

“Leo,” Augustus said louder, but the boy didn’t move. Poco chittered on top of Augustus’s head with chalk in his hands. “Someone please help him,” Augustus said with a shake of his head.

Is he asleep or dead?

“LEO, WAKE THE FUCK UP!” General Cleandro roared, and his hawk (demon) shrieked like a banshee.

My left ear rang with horrible feedback.

Not dramatic at all.

As Leo sputtered awake, Professor Augustus sighed again. Poco got bored and shoved the chalk into his mouth (I wonder if that tastes any good).

General Cleandro pressed the button on his awful black box. “TIME FOR THE CIRCUIT!” he bellowed with glee.

Time distorted, as it was known to do in hell.

I blinked.

The sun burned hot and bright in the sky, illuminating the frosted dirt near the top of the mountain. In the valley below, the Dolomites Coliseum was the size of a child’s toy.

I looked down. Red footprints followed me on the jagged rocks.

Someone’s stalking me. I looked around nervously, then grimaced. It was my footprints.

We hobbled forward slowly as a group.

My legs burned and lungs heaved.

I prayed with everything I had, but in a highly upsetting turn of events, a Titan did not suddenly appear and violently murder me.

There’s no justice left in this cruel world.

Dark times indeed.

I didn’t remember making it to the top, didn’t remember stumbling down the other side, didn’t remember half drowning as I swam pathetically through the river, didn’t remember Kharon glaring at me as I crawled onto the riverbank.

Or maybe I did remember, and I wanted to forget.

This time there were enough foil blankets after the swim for everyone, but I was too tired to grab one.

Augustus wrapped one around my shoulders aggressively and shouted something.

I blinked.

We staggered into the classroom. In front of me, General Cleandro shoved cups into the initiates’ faces.

Augustus swooped in and grasped my chin tightly. He tipped water past my lips. My throat was so raw from breathing haggardly that it burned. I tried to pull away, but his fingers tightened.

The rest of the initiates were only forced to take a small sip, but Augustus didn’t let me go until I’d finished the entire cup. He glowered and whispered something into my left ear about Chthonics. Thankfully, I couldn’t understand what he said.

“Time for your first test,” Professor Pine said after we’d reclaimed our spots on the floor as his raven stared at us with intelligent eyes.

Pine handed out paper.

I stared blankly down at it.

Equations? With numb fingers I picked up the pen. It took multiple tries to get the ink to stay on the page where I wanted it to.

Writing a number took a minute.

Slowly, digit by digit, I went through the sequences, following steps mostly by intuition. Some of it I remembered Pine talking about, but most of it was completely new. Each question was tied to ethical dilemmas with dozens of variables and steps.

The questions made the math on the merit exam look childish.

“Time’s up!” Pine announced. “Put your pen down.”

I’d barely gotten halfway through.

Time warped.

I blinked, and Professor Augustus sat in front of the class, meditating with his eyes closed. All the initiates were asleep around me.

Augustus shifted, and the scar across his sharp cheekbone was an angry shade of red.

His wide shoulders were in perfect posture.

Since I was half-slumped over with my left boob angling toward the floor, this was not relatable.

I squinted at the cruel professor. Have demons always been so attractive?

Smoldering dark eyes shot open.

“What—are you doing?” Augustus asked slowly.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Please don’t let him see me. Please don’t let him see me.

“Since I’m sitting directly in front of you, obviously I can see you.”

Ohmygod, he can read my mind. I need to kill us both.

Hands clapped together. “Alexis, open your fucking eyes. You’re speaking aloud and distracting the class—look at me. Now.”

I peeked my eyes open.

The class was in a state that could only be described as severely catatonic. Distracting them from what—death?

Augustus mumbled something about girls, dishonor, and the crucible.

“Preach, girlfriend,” I mumbled back.

His right eye twitched. “Calm yourself,” he said with a frown. “Focus on your center, find your inner calm.”

“Will do—Captain.” I bowed and face-planted onto the floor. “Like a beached whale,” I said with my cheeks pressed against the rocks. “Don’t worry, the tide will pull me back.”

I rolled to my side.

Augustus looked worried.

I made a whale sound.

He did not make one back. This is why I don’t talk to people. They never understand me.

A muscle in Augustus’s jaw ticked as he stood up, leaned over, and hoisted me into a seated position.

The boy in front of me moaned in his sleep.

Augustus gripped my shoulder with painful tightness, and he didn’t let go.

“You saved me?” I whispered up at him.

Surprisingly long lashes fluttered. His expression softened. Fingers loosened.

“You saved Big Bertha, the humpback whale.”

He dropped me.

I let out the cry (aquatic moan) of my people.

In a surprising turn of events that absolutely no one saw coming, he didn’t talk to me for the rest of class.

Time shifted.

“Are you okay, kid?” someone asked.

“Who’s asking?” I looked around but didn’t see anyone, and the initiate sitting next to me—I think his name is Drex?—gave me a strange look. Behind him, a boy stared up at the rock ceiling with drool coming out of his open mouth.

“Kid, it’s Nyx,” the strange voice repeated. “Keep your voice down.”

I didn’t know any Nyx.

Pine wrote names on the board, and a four was written beside “Alexis.”

I squinted and tried to figure out the puzzle.

Alexis is my name. Satisfaction filled me that I’d figured it out.

“This is the order you placed on the test,” Pine said.

What test?

Pine pointed at the drooling boy. “Iason Athena,” he said. “You embarrass your illustrious House. You couldn’t answer a single Thagorean question. That level of ineptitude is unacceptable for a Spartan.”

General Cleandro stood up and said, “Iason, you’re running the circuit by yourself. I’ll be leading you. Get up, let’s go.”

Iason was dragged out of the classroom with his mouth open and eyes unfocused.

Hours later, General Cleandro came back.

He was alone.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, but I couldn’t remember why it mattered.

We were given a short break in the library.

Augustus stopped me in the hall, his frown severe.

“Are you all right, Alexis?” he asked silkily, and my toes curled.

“Who—is this all right you speak of?” I winced as my bloody feet scraped across the rock floor.

From Augustus’s murderous glare, I did not want to know.

“Keep your s-secrets.” I patted his disturbingly hard chest.

Augustus stared down at where I was touching him.

Neither of us said anything else.

I couldn’t remember who walked away first (he did).

Time got hazier.

More tests were given—we sprinted (hobbled through) the circuit. On the side of the mountain under the dark of night, a bright spot glowed in my vision. There was a light up ahead, and it would be warm.

I just have to get to it.

I never got to it.

Music played frantically in my head.

Three of my toenails turned black after I stubbed my feet into boulders. The River Styx was creepy at night, and I sobbed as I crawled out of the water onto the muddy bank. Two voices growled, then whispered in the darkness.

I growled back.

The bright light still hovered just outside my reach.

“Congrats, you’ve survived your first two weeks,” someone said, but I didn’t know who.

I was dizzy with nausea.

Bang. People appeared in a cloud of smoke.

“Fucking Kronos, Alex, are you okay?” Moonlight illuminated emerald eyes, which filled with blood as a finger touched my forehead.

I hate that name.

“I h-haven’t b-b-een okay for y-y-years.” My teeth chattered from the cold so hard my jaw ached.

“Interesting, she’s telling the truth.” There was a pause, then the voice scoffed, “But none of us have been.” Foil was wrapped around my shoulders, and the icy pain got a little warmer.

The pretty man with eyes like spooky lights turned to a muzzle.

I grimaced. “G-G-Good d-d-doggy.”

“Did she just call you a dog?” He laughed darkly.

Hands wrapped around my arm painfully.

“Let’s go. Domus.”

The world warped.

Darkness smothered me, and the music died.

Permanently.