Blind Side: Hound of Hades, #6

By Z.J. Cannon and Zoe Cannon

All's fair in love and war...

 

Mal and Bastian have always known that when Humanity Ascendant declares war on the gods, they'll be fighting on opposite sides. But that's always felt like a problem for another day.

 

Not anymore.

 

Mal knows Bastian won't live to see the end of this fight The only question is how many of Mal's friends he'll take down with him.

 

Unless Mal stops the war before it starts.

 

She has one shot, and she's going to take it. Even if that means defying her god. Even if it means deceiving her allies. Even if it means losing Bastian...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Z.J. Cannon
• Release date: May 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201577346

Book preview

Chapter 1

Cat, said Bastian as he placed the letters on the board, fitting each one precisely into its square.

I scowled at the Q that sat smugly atop a triple word score. Go back to kindergarten. That’s not how you spell ‘cat.’

Q-A-T, Bastian said, pointing to each letter in turn. A Middle Eastern shrub cultivated for its leaves, which have a stimulant effect.

You made that up just now.

You’re welcome to look it up. But use my phone, not yours—I’d rather not wait all night for that ancient machine to remember how to connect to the internet. He held his phone out to me across the table.

I didn’t take it. His smile had already told me he was right. Fine. Take your… I did a quick calculation in my head. My scowl grew. Thirty-six points. Which puts you ahead by a hundred and two.

You’ve got plenty of time to catch up. His gracious smile was worse than the smug one had been. We have all night.

I’m so glad I moved in, I grumbled. I plunked my own letters down.

Bastian frowned down at the board. Boom?

Hey, you try doing any better with these letters.

That’s not a word, it’s a sound effect.

Look it up if you want, I offered. But I’m making you use my phone.

He held up his hands in surrender. There’s no need for that.

I’m guessing that’s the only victory I’ll get tonight, I said, glowering at the rest of my letters, two of which were an X and a Z, and none of which were vowels. So why don’t you go ahead and put me out of my misery?

If you insist. With a flourish, Bastian set down his next word—AKASHA, which I was pretty sure wasn’t even English. I was about to call him on it when a soft scraping sound made me freeze, mouth half open.

Okay, what the hell was that? I asked. But before I had finished speaking, the answer clicked into place in my mind. The noise had been faint, but unmistakable—the sound of a window sliding open.

And it had come from the bedroom.

In Hindu philosophy, the fifth element from which all things— Bastian started.

I put my finger to my lips, cutting him off. I listened again. I might not have heard anything if I hadn’t already been on alert. As it was, I barely heard the next sound—the steps of someone who was trying too hard to walk quietly.

I lowered my voice to a whisper. Do you hear that?

Bastian shook his head. But he trusted me enough not to speak out loud. He made a questioning gesture.

I was about to point to the bedroom when a rush of movement from that direction answered his question for me.

The figure ran at us, her clothing a blur of black and white. I leapt from my chair and dodged out of the way, raising my gun as I did. I was going to have to apologize to Bastian later for bringing my work home with me.

Opposite me, Bastian was already on his feet. His hands were raised, ready to attack, although I knew he wouldn’t reveal what he could do unless he had no other choice. Which wouldn’t be necessary. I was more than capable of handling this problem on my own.

I shoved the table into her path. Or, more accurately, into her. Letter tiles flew in all directions as it made contact. As she staggered back, I took my shot. But she was too fast; the bullet whizzed over her head and through the bedroom door to shatter the bedside lamp. I winced. One more thing to apologize to Bastian for.

But that was hardly the most important thing on my mind right now. Because in that brief moment, I had caught a glimpse of her face.

This woman was one of Hades’s allies. And as far as I could tell, she was here to kill me.

Or, more likely, send me someplace I had no interest in ever visiting again. She hadn’t pulled out either of her knives yet, which I was guessing meant she planned to use her gift on me. I had already gotten a firsthand look at what she could do—the last time this woman had touched me, she had catapulted me into the realm of nightmares.

Back then, we had been trying to kill each other. Now we were allies—at least in theory. But she seemed to have forgotten about that development.

She overturned the table and pushed it out of the way. I started to line up another shot—then stopped. She was an ally. I hadn’t forgotten that, even if she had. I didn’t know what the consequences would be if I shot her, whether she had been trying to kill me at the time or not. The gods didn’t tend to accept, She started it, as an excuse. More importantly, I needed to know what was going on. Which meant keeping her alive long enough to answer my questions.

I turned to her, leaving her an opening a mile wide. If she came to me, that would do half my job for me. Then all I had to do was keep her from touching me long enough to subdue her. I braced myself for her to run at me again.

The effort was wasted. She didn’t even glance in my direction. Instead, she rushed for Bastian, hand already outstretched to grab his wrist.

My fingers froze around my weapon as my whole body went cold.

She wasn’t here for me. She was here for Bastian. And that could only mean one thing.

But I wasn’t going to think about that yet. Save Bastian first; worry about the rest later. I dove across the overturned table to shove him out of the way. He sprawled on the floor with a grunt, but quickly rolled out of her path. He pushed himself to his feet, and aimed his palms at her, but still didn’t attack.

She darted around me, fingers questing for Bastian’s skin. Her fingertip brushed his sleeve—

And then I was behind her, wrenching her hands up and back an instant before her finger could brush Bastian’s wrist. I shoved her roughly into the wall, and made sure she couldn’t reach Bastian before I let go of her wrists to shove my elbow into the center of her back. With my other hand, I pressed the barrel of my gun into the back of her neck.

All right, I said conversationally, feel like telling me what you’re doing in my apartment?

With her cheek pressed against the wall, I could barely see her expression as it moved from confusion, to recognition, to confusion again. You, she snarled. I know you. You’re the Marked of Hades—the one who thwarted my goddess’s plans and stole from her what she rightfully deserved.

I don’t think that’s how your goddess would tell it, I said. She and I had a nice conversation, remember? I’m the reason you’re still operating in the city, attached to a real temple this time—and believe me, I’m regretting that right about now.

You know Persephone is not the goddess of whom I speak. She said the name with a sneer.

Now, now, is that any way to talk about the goddess you serve? I clucked my tongue, then jabbed the gun harder into her neck. Enough chit-chat. Answer my question. What were you doing in my apartment?

But I was sure I already knew. The gods had finally discovered the organization Bastian worked for, and learned about what he had created.

With nothing but the strength of his intellect and the force of his will—and a little something extra, courtesy of his divine father’s genetics—Bastian had managed to do what no other human in history had done before, and create an entirely human system of magic, one that has nothing to do with the gods or their power. Humans had dreamed of magic for thousands of years, but in all that time, no human had been able to claim that kind of power without channeling the will of the gods. Until Bastian.

And he had created it for one purpose and one purpose alone: to eventually declare war on the gods and drive them from the mortal world forever.

Meanwhile, I worked for one of them. So when I say our relationship is complicated, trust me when I say that’s a bit of an understatement.

The first time we worked together, it was out of necessity. A rogue faction of his organization had started the war early—by blowing up Hades’s temple. I wanted justice for the attack. Bastian wanted to stop the rogue faction before they brought the wrath of the gods down on the rest of them. We were supposed to work together that once and then never see each other again. I tried my best—I really did. He was the one who thought it would be a good idea to ask me out to dinner. And to my credit, I turned him down.

The first time.

Maybe if we hadn’t kept showing up in each other’s lives, things would have been different. If I hadn’t needed to follow him through the city on a regular basis to keep tabs on what his organization was doing. If I hadn’t needed his help to save the temple’s High Priestess. If he hadn’t kept shoehorning his way into my missions, offering me the one thing I needed to succeed. But that wasn’t the way it had happened. What happened was that eventually—inevitably—we hadn’t been able to deny our feelings for each other any longer. And, well, here we were. Living in domestic bliss while we waited for the other shoe to drop.

My friend Ciara had once described it as a Romeo-and-Juliet kind of thing. What she had neglected to mention was that Romeo and Juliet had died in the end.

We had known from the beginning that we were living on borrowed time. It was just that we had thought we would have more of it.

The pit in my stomach was big enough to swallow me whole, with room to spare for all of Manhattan. And the Marked still hadn’t answered.

Hey. You. I pressed the gun barrel deeper. Are you listening to me?

I hear you, Marked. And I have nothing to say to the likes of you. She made a contemptuous noise in the back of her throat. "Persephone’s temple dares to call me a traitor simply for following my goddess. I have endured nothing but abuse from them since the day my goddess and theirs merged into one. And you, Marked of Hades—if you are even worthy of the name—they hold you up as a hero. The one who saved their temple. Our temple, not that I want any part of it. You betray your god under their noses. You flaunt your relationship with an enemy of your god. And yet you have more of a place in Persephone’s temple than I ever will. But not anymore. I only caught a glimpse of her cold triumphant smile, but it was enough. Kill me in the name of your new masters, if you must. It won’t matter. I came here tonight on behalf of my goddess. She knows what this man is. When I don’t come back, she will simply send another in my place. And when she does, and they discover your treachery as I have, you will be no hero to the temple."

Are you going to introduce me to your friend? Bastian asked in a voice that was far too mild. I was sure no one but me would have been able to hear the tension lurking under every word.

I can’t say we’ve had the pleasure of a formal introduction, I said tightly, jabbing the gun into her neck again for emphasis. What did Ciara say your name was? Leia, the princess who thinks Persephone’s temple should bow down to her?

Leila. The Marked spat the correction at me.

Same difference. I flashed her a toothy smile. The important part is that she serves Persephone, and that a few weeks back, she came close to destroying the city.

Melinoë, she hissed. I served Melinoë before she became one with Persephone, and I serve her now. The goddesses may see themselves as one now, but Persephone’s Marked do not accept that we are on the same side, and neither do I. I am forced to operate from within Persephone’s temple. I take orders from Persephone’s High Priestess because my goddess has decreed it to be so. But my loyalty is to Melinoë, and Melinoë alone.

She was behind the attack back in July, said Bastian. She sent you to the nightmare realm.

That’s her, I confirmed.

Bastian took another step back, eyeing her hands warily. I could have told him he didn’t need to worry—not about the possibility of her using her gift on him, anyway. Even as fast as she could move, she had to know I could send a bullet into her before she could lay a finger on either of us.

But she didn’t make a move. Instead, she closed her eyes. Her body tensed against me.

Don’t even try, I snapped. I know your tricks now, and I can put a bullet in your brain before you even think of jumping to the nightmare realm.

I didn’t know if I was actually fast enough to stop her from disappearing. But I must have sounded convincing, because her eyes opened, and she sagged against the wall in defeat.

That’s better, I said. But you still haven’t answered my question.

You already know the answer, said Bastian. We both do.

I looked up. Bastian had taken a step back, but he was watching us so closely I didn’t even see him blinking. His body was one long cord of tension.

He still hadn’t lowered his hands.

I’ve got this, I said. A warning hummed under my words.

Bastian didn’t move. Red sparks danced across his palms.

The sight made the hairs stand up on the backs of my arms. Bastian wasn’t a killer. That was me. He had never taken a life—he had told me that the night we met.

But if this Marked was here for him, it meant she knew about Humanity Ascendant. No matter how much I wanted her to give me a different answer, Bastian was right; I already knew. And I also knew how far Bastian was willing to go to keep his secret safe. He had tried to sacrifice his own life to protect the rest of Humanity Ascendant—so why wouldn’t he be willing to sacrifice hers?

I shook my head. Don’t do this.

He didn’t lower his hands. The sparks didn’t fade.

There was another option. I could do it myself. Unlike Bastian, I was no stranger to killing, and she had more than earned her fate. One bullet, and I could protect Bastian’s secret. I could keep this life of ours safe. Or at least give him time to run.

My finger tightened on the trigger. Then loosened again.

I’ve fought a lot of Hades’s enemies in my time, and viewed most of them as nothing more than brief annoyances. The woman in front of me was different. I could honestly say I hated her. Not only because of what she had done to the city, although the damage had been so far-reaching that New York was still struggling to recover. Businesses had closed permanently; frost-damaged buildings and streets were still being rebuilt; memorials for the dead dotted the city. What got to me was what she had done to Persephone’s temple. She and the rest of Melinoë’s people hadn’t just infected the civilians of the city with nightmares; they had infected Persephone’s temple. The Marked and Guardians who died in the attack on the city had died fighting their own allies. The ones who survived remembered killing their friends. My best friend, a Marked of Persephone, hadn’t been the same since the attack. I didn’t know if she would ever return to her old self.

Leila had done this. She and the goddess whose name she spoke so defiantly. And because of some ritual Persephone’s Guardians had performed, I was supposed to accept her transformation from enemy to ally. Maybe Persephone could accept that. But I couldn’t.

And yet I still couldn’t pull the trigger.

A couple of months ago, I had learned an uncomfortable truth about myself. Namely, that as much as I liked to flaunt my cynicism and pretend I was above it all, in the end I was loyal to Hades’s temple above all else. Hades had brought me back from the dead to turn me into a living weapon, and it had worked. His interests came first for me. Even before Bastian.

Maybe if I had thought it could make a difference, I would have made another choice. But I knew in my gut that it was already too late. If she was here, it was because her temple had sent her. Which meant the secret was already out, and nothing we did here tonight could change that.

The war was here. And I wasn’t going to start off by placing myself on the wrong side—on Bastian’s side.

I shifted subtly, preparing to switch my aim from Leila to Bastian as soon as he made it necessary. Bile rose in the back of my throat at the thought of shooting Bastian. I forced it down. I would do what I had to do. Just like I always did.

Our eyes locked. He knew what I was thinking—I was sure of it. The same way I knew he was ready to attack me if he had to. Neither of us moved.

I broke our gaze, and turned back to the Marked in front of me. How much does your temple know? I demanded. I meant the question as much for Bastian as for myself. Maybe if he heard her say out loud that Persephone’s temple already knew everything, he would understand that killing her would be futile. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to do this.

We know a new Marked of Zeus has infiltrated the city, she spat. And now that I’ve found you here, we know you’re conspiring with him, sharing his home and his bed. Her mouth twisted into a feral smile. And we’ll know more than that soon enough. My goddess sent me to take him back to the nightmare realm for interrogation. Now we’ll have both of you instead.

She whirled, grabbing for me with one hand and Bastian with the other. I could either shoot her or knock her hands aside—and despite what I had told her, I didn’t know if I was fast enough to shoot before she stranded us in the former nightmare goddess’s realm. I chose the latter. Then I twisted her hands behind her back again—I didn’t plan on letting them go this time—and fired a shot into the wall next to her. Her full-body flinch was worth every bit of explanation Bastian was going to have to give his landlord.

What, I asked, wrenching her arms back a little further for emphasis, does Zeus have to do with any of this?

I saw him, she said, jerking her chin toward Bastian. He was using his gift openly, in the middle of Hades’s city. I don’t know what he’s doing here. Not yet. But I saw enough to recognize a Marked of Zeus.

Chapter 2

To his credit, Bastian didn’t choke at that characterization. His voice was utterly level as he asked, What, precisely, did you see?

On one of my visits to Hades’s temple, I saw him lurking nearby. I recognized his face—he was there the night you brought my goddess to her knees by persuading her to merge with her unworthy mother. But he belonged to no temple I’ve had business with since. So I followed him. And he showed me the truth. Leila sneered at Bastian. You thought you were alone that night, didn’t you? You’re as arrogant as your god. You weren’t even using your gift for the sake of battle; you were exulting in it, there in the forest, reveling in using the power of Melinoë’s enemy under her nose. But this is Melinoë’s city. She has eyes everywhere. And when I reported back what I had seen, she sent me to take care of the problem.

If she had seen Bastian’s magic, that could explain some things. Humanity Ascendant magic looks a lot like lightning—which also happens to be Zeus’s signature weapon. And given that Zeus and his allies owned most of the northeastern United States already and were itching to get hold of Hades’s city, it was no wonder Leila had jumped to him first. But that didn’t mean I knew what to tell her now.

This city belongs to Hades, not a goddess who doesn’t exist anymore, I snapped, half genuinely offended, half stalling for time. But I didn’t see you going to his temple to report what you had seen. For that matter, I doubt you even went to your goddess. You can call her by whatever name you like, but you serve Persephone now, and that kind of recklessness isn’t Persephone’s style. I should know—I worked alongside her people for four years.

I didn’t like the look of the smile she gave me. If Persephone and Melinoë are one and the same now, then what makes you think the goddess you knew exists anymore? You say I serve Persephone now—but consider this, Marked. Your god, and all who serve him, are now allies of Melinoë—and Melinoë has no problem striking fast to eliminate a threat. The rules of your alliance have changed, Marked. While you mock me for calling my goddess by a name you dislike, the world is passing you by. You and everyone in Persephone’s temple who refuses to see the new order for what it is.

That got to me a little. See, Ciara—who happened to be a Marked of Persephone—had said something similar a few weeks ago. She had told me Persephone was different now, ever since she had merged with Melinoë. That she wasn’t the same goddess Ciara had served for all these years. Maybe there was something to what Leila was saying. Maybe nothing I knew applied anymore. Maybe the new Persephone really was the kind of goddess who had no problem acting on circumstantial evidence to consign a suspected enemy to whatever fate Leila had planned for Bastian—an eternity in the nightmare realm, if I had to guess.

If you had gathered more information, Bastian said, interrupting my increasingly grim train of thought, you would have known that this was part of an operation that could make the difference between Hades holding on to his territory or losing everything to Zeus. An operation you’ve now jeopardized.

It took a major effort of will to keep my eyebrows from shooting up to the ceiling.

Not possible, said Leila. I know everything that happens within Hades’s alliance.

I scoffed. She glared at me.

Clearly not, said Bastian. Or you would have been aware that I defected from Zeus’s temple three weeks ago. I have information on Zeus’s plans to take the city from Hades—but in exchange, I require safety, and safety requires secrecy.

The Marked don’t walk away from their gods, said Leila. And the ones who do try to leave don’t survive long.

Which is why I turned to Hades’s temple for protection. Protection they have amply provided—until now. He turned to me with a hard look.

I’m sorry about this, I said to him, trying to sound appropriately chastened. It won’t happen again.

See that it doesn’t. Or I’ll take my information elsewhere, and you can take your chances against Zeus on your own.

I demand to know the details of— Leila began.

I shook my head, and her arms. You aren’t going to demand anything. You’ve done enough damage for one day. Go home. Tell your temple whatever you want, as long as it isn’t the truth—if word gets out to Zeus, Hades’s temple will hold you responsible for the consequences. And never pull a stunt like this again.

I risked dropping her arms and stepping back. She rubbed her wrists sullenly, but didn’t grab for either of us. Maybe next time, you’ll consider keeping your allies in the loop, she said—a bit sulkily, I thought.

And maybe we’ll remember this, and decide we were right not to trust you. Get out. I pointed to the door.

With a final glare, Leila winked out of existence.

Bastian and I looked at each other.

Well, I said, that was a thing.

Bastian looked at me. And at the space where Leila had been. He looked at the table lying on the floor, and the priceless books scattered to all corners of the room, their spines broken, pages in disarray.

Without saying anything, he bent down and started gathering books. He swept their errant pages back into their covers, and stacked them neatly into three separate piles—the distinctions meant something to him, I was sure—with the corners lined up so perfectly he could have used them for a geometry lesson. I watched him, not sure whether to get down and help or ask him if he was feeling all right. Are you sure that’s the best time for this? I know how you feel about your books, but right now we have other priorities. For one thing, we need to have a conversation about what to do if Persephone’s temple doesn’t buy the story. Especially since her temple apparently isn’t what it used to be.

Bastian didn’t answer. He kept stacking books. When he was done, he started to stand. Then, as if his legs had given up halfway through, he sat down hard on the floor. He looked up at me—and erupted in a torrent of manic laughter.

I was pretty sure I had only ever heard Bastian laugh a handful of times over the course of our relationship. A slight twitch of his lips was usually the most I could get out of him. Bastian? Are you… okay?

He opened his mouth to answer. Another burst of laughter came out instead.

Half of me wanted to run into the kitchen and grab a glass of ice water to dump over his head. The other half wanted to get down on the floor and join him. I wasn’t entirely sure I would have a choice in the matter—about the floor part, at least. Now that the adrenaline was leaving my system, my legs were already threatening to turn to rubber. A wild relief swept over me, filling the spaces the adrenaline burst had left.

I had been ready to go to war against Bastian. I had been ready for my own temple to declare me a traitor. I had been ready to lose our little slice of domesticity forever—and yet here we were, as if nothing had happened. If we wanted, we could pick the game board and all its tiles up off the floor, and go right back to our game.

The absurdity of that was almost enough to drive me around the same bend as Bastian.

I didn’t collapse to the floor with him, although it was a near thing. I also didn’t get that glass of ice water. Instead, I stood and watched him, waiting for whatever was going on with him to pass. When I felt too awkward simply standing there and watching him lose his mind, I started righting the things that had been overturned. The table, the chairs, the remains of the assorted dirty dishes and coffee cups that had wound up as collateral damage. I even found most of the letter tiles, although I was pretty sure the Q was gone forever.

By the time I was done, Bastian had mostly managed to get himself under control. He pushed himself to his feet. A single hiccuppy laugh burst from his lips, and I eyed him, worried the whole cycle was about to start over again. But nothing else came—nothing but a low, rueful chuckle that, unlike his earlier fit, sounded entirely under his control. I apologize, said Bastian. That was… He made a helpless gesture. Not how I imagined our evening going.

A laugh of my own leapt from my throat. Yeah, no kidding.

Do you think she believed my story?

Hard to say, I said. But I’d put my money on yes. She’s not the subtle type. Someone else might pretend to believe it, to buy themselves time to get away. But not her. I hoped I was reading her right. It wasn’t as if we had spent much time shooting the breeze. My sole experience with her, up until now, had been when I was trying to save the city from Melinoë. But I’ve gotten pretty good at reading my fellow Marked, over the years. When you find yourself going up against other Marked on a regular basis, and you all have the same heightened physical capacities and very similar training, exploiting any advantage you can find becomes an essential survival skill. And the better and faster you can size up your enemies, the more advantages you can find.