Fated (The Bloodstone Saga 2)

In response, the dragon roared a mouthful of fire, but it was too slow.

The fire spread to the walls and ceiling in a flattened out cloud, but Cadmus was already in front of the flame and rocketing toward the dragon’s head. Looping one strong leg around the dragon’s neck, he landed astride the writhing animal. Heaving the heavy sword, he plunged it deep into the side of its neck.

The beast froze with one more strangled cry. Its roving eye found mine and with its gaze locked onto me, it fell to the ground. The dungeon shook with its weight as it landed. I literally felt the earth between my feet move. I looked back at the dragon and saw its sides heaving as it struggled to breathe. Black blood ran down the side of its neck and pooled on the ground beside it.

Its chest shuddered, then stopped.

It was dead.

I uncrouched and launched myself toward Cadmus, leaping into his arms, completely disregarding the fact that he was covered in black dragon’s blood. I covered his face in kisses, clinging to his neck.

"Oh, my god, oh my god," I muttered as I clung to him. "Don’t ever do that to me again. I almost had a heart attack. It could’ve killed you."

He rolled his eyes.

"Woman, I’m not a novice. I’ve killed dragons before."

"Thousands of years ago!" I exclaimed. "You’re out of practice."

"Are you doubting my skills?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

I looked at the dead dragon to our side and shook my head.

"Never. You are a warrior, through and through."

"Well, I’m glad you realize that," he acknowledged.

I slid from his grasp and raced around the hulking frame of the dragon. Ares was suspended from a weird pulley of sorts from the ceiling. I hurriedly looked for the lever that controlled it.

"It’s over here," Cadmus called from the other side of the dragon. I abandoned my search and joined him just as the Amazons re-entered the chamber.

"That was foolish," Ortrera observed to Cadmus. "I approve," she smiled.

I rolled my eyes. Warriors.

Cadmus pulled the lever, slowly releasing Ares from the ceiling. The thick chains creaked as they moved and I raced to his side, helping Cadmus lower him gently to the ground.

Ares lay curled on his side, his thick black hair curling around his neck. They had clearly given him nectar for some reason or another. He had regained his god-like appearance. He reminded me strongly of Marc Antony now. His muscles bulged, his shoulders were wide. His mouth was full and slack as he rested.

"Ares, wake up," I rustled his arm. "Please, wake up."

The manacles constraining his thick wrists caught my eye and I remembered the key. I quickly slipped the knapsack from my back and dug through it, coming up with the brass key.

And then froze. I needed to dip it in my own blood.

"Cadmus," I began. He knelt by my side. "Your dagger, please."

His gaze flew to my face. "No."

"Yes," I replied. "I must. It will only be a small cut."

He wordlessly handed me his black-handled dagger and grasped my shoulder as he waited. I felt him stop breathing as he held his breath. I knew he couldn’t bear to watch me injure myself, so I did it quickly.

In a quick movement, I sliced an inch long cut into my forearm. Blood instantly gushed and I rolled the key in it. I wryly hoped that the key was clean, although it was probably unlikely that a goddess would get an infection.

Slipping the key into the lock, I turned it. It clicked and the manacles fell to the side. I briskly rubbed Ares’ arms, trying to stimulate his circulation. His forearms looked blue.

All of us were crowded around him, murmuring and trying desperately to rouse him. But to no avail. He stayed limp and still. I felt my pulse racing. He couldn’t die. I couldn’t let that happen.

"The potion," Ortrera reminded me. "Remember that you still have the potion. Hecate said you would need it once more."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Of course. The potion. Ortrera dug it out of my bag for me and handed it to me. I dipped the dropper into the silver bottle. Sure enough, there were only two drops left. Just as I started to drop them into his mouth, Ares’ dark eyes opened.

He stared at me in confusion.

"Why are you here, daughter?"

His arms curled around me and I collapsed onto his chest, sobbing in wild relief.

"I thought you were dead," I mumbled against his blood-stained clothing. "I thought they had killed you."

I felt him smile against my forehead.

"What little faith you have in me," he murmured.

I could hear so much of Marc Antony in his voice that it warmed my heart. It was a myth that Ares was bloodthirsty and cruel. He was actually funny and kind-hearted, but just as he was as Marc Antony, he was still a warrior through and through. He could be bloodthirsty if need be. He would do whatever it took.

I sat up and twisted the lid back onto the potion and tossed it back into my bag. Hecate had been wrong. I hadn’t needed it after all. Not that I was complaining.

Ares sat up, rubbing his bruised and battered body.

"The Moirae will wish they were dead when I am through with them," he muttered, scowling. He looked around at the faces surrounding him.

"Where’s your mother?" he asked, turning to me. "Where’s Aphrodite?"

I hesitated. He raised his eyebrow.

"Well?" he asked impatiently. "Where is she?"

"They have her," I answered quietly. "And I don’t know exactly where."

His roar almost brought down the palace.

Chapter Fifteen

"No," Ares insisted again. "I have no memory at all of living in the mortal world. Nothing. I don’t remember you as a mortal, I don’t remember being a mortal, I don’t remember being married to a mortal."

He paused and stared at me. "Does your mother know?"

I couldn’t help but grin. My father, the god of war, was intimidated by Aphrodite, the goddess of love. Talk about ironic. But to be fair, she did have a colorful temper.

I shook my head. "Of course Aphrodite knows. But she’s not mad," I assured him.

You could see the relief on his face as he gingerly stretched his limbs.

We were seated in a semi-circle in one of the Palace’s many lounges. The building was a wreck. We’d had to clear a place out even to sit. It literally looked as though a hurricane had hit this place.

Ares drummed his fingers on the surface of a stone end table, absently staring out the window. Below us, the ravaged, deserted city of Olympus stood proudly. Even in ruins, it was hauntingly beautiful as the white stone buildings rose from the horizon out of the rustling velvety tree tops. Ares’ face was impassive as he thought, but I knew him very well. He was planning a strategy.

Cadmus strode from the windows to reclaim his place at my side.

"What do you think, Ares?" he asked quietly. "Where have they taken Aphrodite?"

Ares shook his head in frustration. "I know not. And that vexes me."

He slammed his heavy fist onto the stone table, shattering it into a million pieces. They fell into a pile on the floor. Sadly, the pile of rubble fit in perfectly with our tattered surroundings.

I stepped to his side, resting my hands on his shoulders. "Calm yourself," I murmured.

"Such tantrums won’t help."

He scowled at me.

"Tis’ easy for you to say. You’re not the one who will answer to your mother. She expects a prompt rescue from me, I’m certain."

"Well, you are  the god of war," I pointed out wryly, then smiled at his expression. "Calm yourself. We’ll find her. We just have to think of places to look."

"I know where," a tiny voice sounded out, clear as a little bell.

We all startled and looked around. A tiny child was hidden in a pile of rubble across the room. She was so dirty that she blended right in. We’d all walked right past her without noticing her presence. But I could see her little pixie face peering out at us now. She couldn’t be more than six or seven years old.

The Amazons jumped to attention, circling her warily. I gestured for them to stand down.

"Sister, it’s merely a child," I assured Ortrera, edging up to stare at the girl. Ortrera clucked.

"You don’t know that. The Moirae can shapeshift."

"True," I admitted. "But I don’t think that is the case here. I feel like she is an innocent."

I knelt in front of her.

"Are you?" I asked her. "Are you an innocent?"

The little girl nodded, her plump pink lips trembling. I could tell that under the dirt smudges, she was a flawlessly beautiful child. Her skin was like porcelain, her hair was long and blonde and her eyes were cornflower blue. She looked like a perfect china doll, but for the dirt and bedraggled clothes.

"I know where they took her," she repeated. "Can you help me get back home?"

I held out my hand to her and she climbed from the wreckage of the furniture that she was hiding in. She stood uncertainly, watching the Amazons in fear.

"They won’t hurt you," I assured her. "They are mighty warriors, but they are here to help."

"You’re Harmonia, aren’t you?" the child asked, her lip shaking.

I nodded. "How did you know?"

She pointed at my wrist. "Your mark. They were talking about it, too."

"The Moirae?" I asked with my eyebrows raised. I subconsciously found myself gripping my wrist and I forced myself to release it.

She nodded.

"What is your name, child?" I asked, all while trying to calm my racing heart.

It was astounding that this was all about me. I could hardly fathom the fact that it had never been about my Daedal. In fact, Daedals weren’t even real things They were just a ruse made up by the Fates. It was so hard to comprehend that the entire past two thousand years had been wasted. I shook the troublesome thoughts from my head and waited for the girl’s name.

"Raquel," she answered nervously. "I live on Calypso’s island."

"Why are you here?" I asked curiously. "You’re quite a ways from home."

She nodded again, her blue eyes filling with tears. A single tear dripped down her dirty cheek.

"I miss it."

"Of course you do," I soothed, pulling her into my arms. "Anyone would. I miss my mother. Do you know where she is?"

The girl nodded. "That is why I am here. I’m supposed to tell you. Will you take me back with you?"

"Take you back? Do you mean to say that my mother and the Moirae are on Calypso’s Island?"

The girl nodded and my gaze flew to Cadmus’ over her head.

Ogygia, the island of Calypso, was an island that the Fates had long used as a ‘holding place’ of sorts. They marooned unknowing travelers there, and no one could leave until the Fates allowed it. People became sucked into the beauty of the island and time faded away. It was a beautiful paradise. The catch, however, was that it was a virtual ‘no magic zone.’ Magical abilities were rendered useless on Ogygia soil. Gods were as mortals, with no special gifts.