Page 22 of Nemesis

I catch his pointed look. He wears red contacts at Olympus, and it seems to lend to his violent character. And he’s translating that if itisn’tokay with me, they’ll go to pains to give him something else.

Or toss him over the cliffs.

But either way, the choice is mine.

Atlas faces me.

“Why?” I question.

“You intrigue me.”

I don’t like that answer.

“If it helps, I will stipulate that you won’t be harmed. I will not touch you. Not unless you ask me,” he adds with a wicked grin. “And we will stay within the bounds of Sterling Falls.”

“In two days,” I find myself saying, although I don’t know why thehellI’d agree. “Come back here at dawn.”

He nods. “It’s a date.”

“It ends at sunset,” I add. “A fullday, as you said.”

“That is acceptable.” Atlas’s gaze lingers on me.

My brother’s jaw is clenched so tight, he might crack a tooth.

But it’s Hades who inclines his chin.

Atlas strides away without a word, and I lean back against the wall with a rushing exhale. But there’s no true time to contemplate it, because Hypnos is the final winner to be received. My muscles ache so deeply, even my bones protest. I want to slip away, but then he’s in front of them.

I stay close to the shadows.

“Hypnos,” Ares says. “What favor do you seek? If it’s in our power, we will grant it.”

The fighter changed into an unassuming black sweatshirt and jeans, his hands in his pockets. Like this, he looks… almost normal. Like he didn’t take down one of Olympus’s best regular fighters.

It’s losses like this that bring Minos back.

But besides the somewhat normal clothes, he wears a full-face mask. It’s black, although not as deep as Atlas’s. It covers everything except his eyes and holes to breathe from his nose. There’s a garish slash across the mouth area, too, and metal stitches seem to hold it closed.

Decoration.

Symbolic?

“I’ve been contemplating what favor to ask the mighty gods of Olympus,” Hypnos says.

I slowly stand straighter. His voice… his voice scratches something in my brain, even muffled behind the mask.

“And what have you decided?” Apollo asks.

My gaze bounces between Hypnos and Hades. The latter seems to be sharpening, his attention like the tip of a blade. He senses something, too.

Hypnos lifts his chin. “It’s in your power to grant it, but I fear you will turn me down anyway.”

Why does his voice sound so familiar? And distant at the same time. I forget Hades and stare at the side of Hypnos’s head, the black mask hiding his distinguishing features. Even his lips and jaw are hidden.

“Ask,” Hades demands.

Hypnos points at them. “I want ruin.”

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