Page 80 of Flame and Fury

“Eventually,” I say. It’s already a thousand times better than it was. With a wound this deep, my skin will take some time to repair itself. I dip my chin and look at the already fading brand. Grima was wearing a pin on his robes with this mark. Nathaniel’s ring had the same symbol on it. Even in the strange workshop we escaped through at Nathaniel’s house, this symbol was on one of the books. I hadn’t given it much more thought than it being Nathaniel’s mark, but what if it means more than that.

Nyx blows out an exasperated breath. “I wasn’t asking you to inspect the scar. Do you recognize the mark?”

“Should I?” Hades glances at the brand again.

“Of course, he wouldn’t recognize it. I should’ve put you to sleep with the other damn gods,” Nyx mutters under her breath.

“Except you like me too much for that.” Hades flashes a smile at my grandmother before he returns to his seat and picks up his book.

“Before you get too lost in ballrooms and petticoats,” she nods at the historical romance that Hades is reading, “you might want to pay attention to this.”

Atlas and I are hanging on her every word. Atlas is leaning forward, his forearms braced on his knees. His stony face is showing more emotion than usual, a hint of anger flashing in his eyes when they land on the brand.

Hades obediently puts the book back down. Crossing his arms, he leans his shoulder against the bookshelf and waits for her to continue.

“Nathaniel Rogers seared this symbol into your skin?” Nyx looks to me for confirmation.

“One of his flunkies, yes.”

“I always knew there was something wrong with that asshole. Besides the obvious.” My grandmother’s nostrils flare. “This is the symbol of Dolos,” she says this like she’s just dropped a bomb, but the rest of us are clueless. At least, that’s what I think until Atlas sits up straighter.

“Dolos, the god of trickery? Who’s known for his treachery and deception?”

“At least one of you has a lick of sense.” Nyx throws up her hands like she’s offering up praise to the sky.

I swear, Atlas’s face heats with embarrassment. Like the approval from Nyx is more surprising than anything he’s ever encountered. Atlas clears his throat and rubs at the back of his neck. “What does he have to do with Nathaniel Rogers?”

“Does Nathaniel worship him or something?” Technically, the clerics kiss the asses of all the gods, but it is odd that Nathaniel would wear his symbol specifically.

Nyx is murmuring to herself. “It makes sense. He always was a sneaky son of a bitch. He escaped the sleep. Most have forgotten about his very existence.”

“You can’t mean…” I gasp, the pieces clicking into place. The way Nathaniel’s eyes flickered with an otherworldly glint when I escaped his house. The fact that he raised the gods, and no one knows how. The amount of power he’s amassed since the gods were awakened. He’s not just some regular human who fell into a vat of good luck.

“Yes,” she answers, obviously following my train of thought. I’m not sure how, when I’m barely tracking it.

Hades sighs. “What are you talking about?”

“You never could be bothered with the lesser gods.” Nyx flops against the back of her couch and glares at the god of the Underworld.

Hades shrugs. “Do you know how many lesser gods there are? It’s not like I travel in social circles with the rest of the gods unless I have to.”

It’s true that Hades isn’t known to associate himself with the rest of the Olympus gods. The parties that have been held for the games are probably the most he’s been with them since the last time the games were held. Tabloids make a killing selling shots of the gods at various social functions, but Hades is rarely seen in those magazines.

“Fair enough,” Nyx concedes.

“Will someone please explain?” Atlas asks, sounding reluctant. He sinks back in his chair and crosses his arms.

“Dolos feeds off the turmoil he creates with his deceptions. Others’ misery fuels his power. The larger the trickery, the more it charges him.” Nyx taps an agitated finger against her leg.

Atlas’s brows lift. “You think Nathaniel Rogers is a god?” He’s finally come to the same conclusion I reached a few moments earlier. Except I don’t know how it makes sense.

“Nathaniel’s only been around for a few decades. And if he’s a god, how has no one realized what he is?” Even as I speak, my fingers drift to the necklace that I never take off. The snake charm that was my mother’s before it was mine.

In legend, snakes are always associated with the Furies. They obeyed their commands like loyal pets. Some stories, the ones that painted the Furies as bat-winged hags, show the Furies with snakes for hair, but none of that is true. Over time, the association with snakes has faded into a memory, at least for humans. I wonder if Nathaniel has figured out what I am. He’s eyed this charm more than once.

My eyes drift to the gold band sitting on a small table next to a lamp. It’s the one my grandmother was wearing when we arrived. The one that made her look like Mrs. Schnelman.

“He has a charm that hides him,” I state.

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