Page 16 of Scion of Chaos

And for that matter, all the misfits and outcasts that I share mental space with?

“Get out of my head, you guys,”I snap when that last errant thought crosses my mind—a thought that didnotcome from me.

“We’re kind of trapped in here. You know this, boss,”Asterius says.

“But we agree with you,”Chrysaor adds.“And we agree with Chaos. We want to meet her.”

“She isn’t yours.”

The thought escapes before I can rein it in. They don’t exactly respond, but I receive an impression of mixed irritation and displeasure, of betrayal and dejectedness, and eventually Campe responds with,“Fuck you, I’ll be the judge of who is for me and who isn’t. Besides, it’d be pretty fucking difficult if our mates were nine different people. One just simplifies things so much, don’t you think?”

“Why in the world would you want to share?” I ask out loud, even though I’ve already accepted the fact that Nemea is likely fated for both me and Pan, and Typhon too, since both Typhon and I were allowed through the barrier to retrieve the missing satyr. I’m not so insensitive as to suggest that it’s foolish for them to even think they could have mates when it’s as surprising to me as it is to anyone. Plus, Alcides seems convinced she’s meant for him simply by virtue of her name. “If I bring her to him, your chances of ever meeting her disappear.”

They back off at that, and I am vaguely aware of more subdued conferring going on between them. I could listen in, but I’m too irritated to focus on them.

Fate’s fingerprints are all over this, but I’m honestly relieved that Chaos’ request precludes me from meeting with his rival. I still reject his alternative of bringing Nemea to him for safe keeping. There has to be a better,saferoption for her. Leaving her on the island made sense, but now that he knows about her I’m not so sure. If she’s strong enough to draw two gods to her, I can’t discount the possibility she could draw something worse to her if she tries again.

“There is one place that’s safer,” Asterius murmurs.“One place where she will be well-guarded, and the one place you know neither the Titans nor Chaos will visit.”

The one place only I control.

9

Nemea

Ipeer through safety goggles at the contraption of glass tubes and flasks, watching the Bunsen burner flame as my custom scent distills. My classmates are each at their own tables, performing their own chemistry experiments to fill their perfume flacons. I won’t be able to test it until it’s finished and cooled. It could smell like crap, for all I know. No aroma can make it through the filtered mask I have strapped over my nose and mouth, though, so right now all I smell is my own minty breath.

Our alchemy instructor, a dark-skinned nymph named Clio, leisurely makes her rounds, maskless. I suppose her nose is powerful enough to filter itself and not get confused by all the different scents that must be flying around.

Clio raises an eyebrow when she reaches my bench.

“I know it’s probably weird to use... uh... bodily secretions for perfume,” I say.

Clio smiles and shakes her head. “It’s actually quite common. Animal secretions have been used for centuries. Why not human? Or... “ She sniffs the air closer to the flask over the flame, which has started steaming. “Satyr? Where did you get satyr semen? That can’t be...”

I shrug, having no idea how to explain it to her. I didn’t even know what it came from myself, but considering the images I’d sketched prior to crafting the dildo for my ritual, it makes sense. I’m about to ask her to clarify, but frown as she leans close, inhaling deeply from the receptacle which has just started to capture the slowly dripping cooled distillate.

She catches me staring in disbelief and clears her throat, stepping back from my workbench.

“Nemea, there are only five living satyrs of maturity alive today, aside from the Dionarch and Dionysus himself. All of them are bound to mates—three of them toone woman.” Her lip curls as if she finds the idea distasteful, even though it seems pretty common in the higher races’ world for women to wind up with more than one mate. “What you have in there should not exist.”

“Well, you must be wrong about that, because it does. I’d tell you happily how I got it, if I could remember.”

She studies me with a frown for a moment, her blue-green eyes swirling hypnotically. I feel a little woozy holding her gaze and mentally push back against it. She blinks and tilts her head back slightly.

“Interesting. You’re not like the other students. If you’re missing time, I might be able to help you fill in the blanks.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’re nymphaea. That means you need bodily fluids to read my mind or something, doesn’t it? You just want to know why I have satyr jizz.”

She presses her lips together. “All of that is true, but if there’s another satyr out there, my entire race would love to know who he is, and more importantly, where he’s been for the last few centuries. The males of my race were nearly rendered extinct. We couldn’t produce male offspring for over a thousand years.”

“But you could still have babies...”

“With human men, yes. But only daughters. Once we opened up the Haven to the other higher races, we finally began having male children again. But many nymphs would prefer a satyr over a dragon, ursa, or turul.”

I clench my jaw. Before I can control myself, I blurt, “Well, this one’s mine.”

Clio’s head snaps back as if I’ve smacked her. Her mouth opens slightly and she shoves her hands into the pockets of the gossamer shawl that drapes over her shoulders. “I see. I have no intention of stealing him from you. I have a mate of my own, but we are both women and wish for a child. If there is a way to have that even if it means asking someone else’s mate for a contribution, we are obligated to try for the sake of our race’s survival.”

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