No "peace" could compare with the memory of their first kiss. The little details as much as the big. The sardonic gleam in his dark eyes when he teased her. The huskiness of his voice when she pleased him. The way beads of sweat trickled down the ripples of his muscles.
Cameo stared into the mirror, desperate. "Show me the future," she whispered. "Please."
To her surprise, the glass liquefied, waves rippling from top to bottom. Eventually those waves split and two images appeared, one on the right, one on the left. In the first, Lazarus stabbed Hera with a miniature version of the Paring Rod. The shaft had been cut in two, the bulbous tip pushed to the center to make room for a retractable dagger. In the vision, Cameo watched the murder with an air of relief. He'd done it. Gotten vengeance and survived.
The scene morphed, revealing the consequences of his victory. Cameo's motionless body burned atop a pyre. Her friends surrounded her, their heads bowed with sorrow and grief--funny, the terrible emotions were still courtesy of her.
"If Lazarus kills Hera, I die?" she asked the glass.
Trembling, she focused on the other half of the mirror and blinked in shock as she watched her image act out the second scene. In it, she stepped in front of Hera, saving the former queen's life--and causing the end of her own.
No hope. Doomed if I do, doomed if I don't. Unless she could somehow changed her future.
Why would Cameo protect the goddess who'd killed Lazarus's mother?
The scene changed, revealing the consequences of her choice. This time, Cameo lay in bed, laughing as a kaleidoscope of butterflies danced overhead.
Whoa. She survived? And laughed? At butterflies?
Maybe she shouldn't try to change her future, after all. Following the mirror's lead the first time around had worked out very well for her.
But...butterflies?
If one leaves her chrysalis too easily, her wings are weakened. She must struggle to exit, or she will never have the strength to fly.
She remembered Lazarus's words, and twisted to peer at a flurry of butterflies perched outside her window. What if the insects weren't a symbol of doom but instead--she swallowed hard--a portent of success? What if they signaled Lazarus's approach? He'd said they gravitated to him.
Her heart leaped. Had he forgiven her for Juliette's temporary stay of execution?
Maybe so, but... She rested her elbows on the vanity and leaned her forehead against the heels of her palms. He would forever despise her for saving Hera. Therefore, saving the goddess could not possibly lead to Cameo's happiness.
But come on! What if she lost Lazarus either way? The first vision showed his death, and in the second vision, he hadn't been anywhere near her bed.
And yet I laughed. Why?
Had he been nearby?
So many unanswered questions.
A knock sounded at her door. The glass cleared, revealing her reflection and the disarray of her bedroom. Good, that was good.
She stood on shaky legs and croaked, "Enter."
Viola swept inside, her pet nipping playfully at her heels. Today Viola wore a grungy T-shirt that read I'm Dating a Supermodel. Me! The collar was ripped and the hem frayed. Her short shorts were streaked with grass stains. Mud caked her cowgirl boots.
Fluffy wore a matching outfit.
The pair had returned to the fortress yesterday. The goddess had refused to talk about what had gone down at the club, and Cameo hadn't pushed for answers.
"Since I'm your best friend," Viola said, "I've been elected to tell you the bad news."
Oh, no. "What happened? Did someone die? Who died?"
Misery snickered.
"Wow," Viola said. "Your mind immediately goes all worst-case scenario, doesn't it?"
She forced herself to inhale and exhale with purpose. "What happened?" she repeated as calmly as possible.
"Gwen and Kaia just got a bead on Juliette." Viola's gaze landed on the mirror and widened, her mouth parting on a dreamy sigh. As if in a trance, she walked forward, her arms extending to touch. "Oh! A pretty!"
Cameo grabbed a blanket and rushed toward the mirror, intent on intervening before Viola lost herself to her reflection. Mission accomplished.
"How is finding Juliette bad news for me?" Cameo asked, wiping her hands together in a job well done.
"Who said anything about it being bad news for you? It's totally bad news for her. Did I forget to mention the silly Harpy has issued you a challenge? She wants to nix pitting family against family and fight you one-on-one. Winner gets to keep Lazarus."
Cameo's hands balled into fists. "One-on-one? Done. But Lazarus is no one's pawn. He will choose the woman he's with."
It won't be her, and it won't be you, the demon piped up. That plane has already left the runway.
"She doesn't care about free will, so you need to prepare. Come." Viola walked away, clearly expecting Cameo to follow.
Feet as heavy as boulders, she trudged after her friend. They entered the artifact room, where the Paring Rod, Cage of Compulsion, Cloak of Invisibility and paintings created by the All-seeing Eye were stored.
Power thickened the air. And dust. Lots and lots of dust. Cameo coughed.
Her gaze fixed on the Paring Rod. It had a long, metal shaft and a bulbous stained-glass tip. One touch, and she would end up in another realm.
"Why are we here?" she asked. "I don't want to leave the mortal world."
"Duh." Viola pulled a piece of cloth from her pocket and carefully sheathed the bulb. "As you know, I made it my business to learn more about the Paring Rod while trapped inside the spirit realm--"
"You weren't trapped. You willingly entered the second time. And you had the ring!" Cameo reminded her.
"Anyway. The Paring Rod. I have a feeling you're going to need it." As Viola spoke, she bent and twisted the Rod...in natural grooves Cameo had never noticed, shortening the staff, causing a sharper edge to emerge from the tip.
Her stomach twisted into a tight knot. The Paring Rod had shrunk into a miniature version of itself, becoming the sword she'd seen in the mirror. Which meant the artifact had just become the weapon Lazarus would use to kill Hera...or Cameo.
Sooo. The mirror had shown two possible futures, and now Cameo had to choose which one she desired to fruition.
No need to ponder. The second. Of course she picked the second. She'd laughed!
But what about Lazarus? Would her happiness ruin his?
21
"Your kingdom will never experience peace while your enemies still live woman is upset."
--The Art of Keeping Your Female Happy
Lazarus strode into the Budapest fortress as if he owned it. In his mind, he did. He'd decided to go all in with Cameo, so she had to go all in with him. No other outcome was acceptable. What belonged to him now belonged to her and vice versa. Therefore, he owned the fortress.
He paused in the foyer. Maybe close proximity to Cameo strengthened him in some ways while weakening him in others, because his testicle finally finished regenerating. An agonizing process he betrayed by neither word nor deed.
"Welcome." A disembodied voice spilled over an intercom system. A voice he knew belonged to Torin, puppet of Disease, who had once dated Cameo. The male would live only because he'd never actually touched her.
With the cameras placed around the perimeter, Torin had known of his arrival the second he'd flashed in front of the door. Lazarus had opened his mind to the occupants before entering and had sensed no desire to attack.
Maybe because Torin had announced, "We have a guest. Don't kill him."
Lazarus flipped off one of the cameras as he kicked into motion. Urgency rode him, whipping his flank; he increased his speed as he pounded up a flight of stairs.
On the second floor, he spotted a woman he'd met long ago. He'd been a young boy and she'd been engaged to Hades. Keeley, the Red Queen. Typhon had dragged Lazarus to the underworld to pay his respects.
Back then she'd had red hair and brown eyes. Today he
r long locks were pink, her eyes as green as grass. Tomorrow? Who knew what color they'd be. Her features were tied to the calendar and changed with every season.
He watched as the woman wove in and out of bedrooms, stuffing different items into a bag. "She's going to need this--" a vase "--and this--" she pulled a nail from the wall "and definitely this!" A pair of swimming goggles.
Her fathomless gaze landed on him, and she offered a distracted smile. "Hey, Lazy. I've been meaning to tell you...something? Need to search the old corkboard. If you're looking for my girl, she's in her room, preparing for the challenge. Good news! She accepted."
What corkboard? What challenge? And accepted what, exactly?
Lazarus didn't wait around to ask. Instead, he took off at a swift pace down the hall, passing an open doorway where Sabin, keeper of Doubt, stood in the center of the frame, sipping a cup of coffee and staring him down. Or up. The male topped out at only six-seven. Shirtless, the huge butterfly tattoo on his right side couldn't be missed. The mark of his demon.
Soon I will see--and lick--my sunshine's mark.