I jerk upright on the couch, dislodging Rafe’s and Everett’s hands, and fold my arms over my chest.
“Who the fuck is behind this?” I growl, an almost incandescent anger welling up inside of me.
Athena shakes her head. “I don’t know.”
“You’re the Goddess of Wisdom, and you don’t know?” I stare at her incredulously.
She turns away, her lips pursed. “I haven’t been around in quite a while.”
“Because your team died, right?” Krystian says bluntly—oblivious to the pain creasing Athena’s beautiful face.
Athena’s gaze flickers towards the photograph once more.
“They were more than just my team,” she says softly, standing and moving towards the frame. She grabs it tenderly—almost reverently—and a single tear cascades down her cheek. “They were my everything.”
She returns to us and passes me the photograph. I take it, unsurprised to see a smiling Athena in the center of the photo. Surrounding her are five men, all various shapes and sizes but all undeniably handsome.
The pose is eerily similar to what I saw before I blacked out—Athena, surrounded by five hazy silhouettes.
Could those have been…? No. No.
I stare harder at the picture, noting the birthmark on the tallest man’s cheek, the blemish somehow adding to his appeal. That birthmark…
A memory slams into me, so sudden and startling that I gasp and drop the picture. Only Everett’s quick reflexes keep it from shattering.
“Thea!” Everett says, focusing on me even as he passes the framed photo back to the goddess.
But all I can picture are five men on a bloody battlefield, hundreds and hundreds of feral vampires advancing on them. Tearing them apart while they screamed for mercy.
I remember the vampire uprising—or at least, the number of deaths associated with it.
Over one hundred years ago, a group of vampire extremists, totaling one thousand strong, decided they’d had enough of hunting from the shadows. They wanted to be at the top of the food chain. They went on a killing spree, murdering humans and supernaturals indiscriminately.
“I know these men,” I whisper brokenly, turning towards Athena. My heart cracks down the center. “I… I reaped them.”
Athena freezes, her head still lowered as she stares at the picture of her beloveds.
“You…what?” Her voice is mechanical. Impassive, almost.
“Athena…I’m so sorry.” That’s all I can think to say, but even those words don’t feel adequate enough.
“Do you know what happens to a soul that can’t cross over? A soul that has no energy?” She’s still speaking softly, but there’s a sharp edge to it I’ve never heard before. The sound causes Zaid to shift imperceptibly closer to me and Krystian to grab his bow once more. “The soul becomes insane. Desperate. Monstrous.”
A lump forms in my throat, and a prickling burn erupts behind my eyes.
I’ve reaped thousands and thousands of souls.
And to know that all of them are trapped in the damn dagger…
Unable to move on because they have no energy or power…
“That’s what’s making Thea insane,” Zaid breathes in understanding. He turns towards us. “Every time she reaps a soul, the energy of the newly departed gives the other souls enough juice to make themselves known.”
“But they’re so fucking insane they make Thea insane,” Everett growls.
“Exactly.” Zaid nods once.
“And when she places the dagger on the pedestal, the energy is drained from it,” Krystian says. “Which stops all of the hallucinations and voices because the souls no longer have power.”
