Dread warred with eagerness. Nine of Hercules’s twelve labors had involved beasts. Strength that was hers for the taking.
You’re so weak, Ophelia.
Not anymore, sister. She had a plan, and she was sticking to it. No matter what. Collect as much strength as possible, turn on the god, save harpykind, win Halo’s task, and bask in the glory. “What do you expect from me?”
“Cooperation, harpy, nothing more.”
No. There was absolutely something more. Because honestly? He didn’t exactly need her cooperation. Did he seek bragging rights? A tidbit to later lord over Halo? The old, “I won over your girl” trick.
“You’ll find I make a wonderful ally,” he continued, giving her the hard sell. “Oh, I may strike you as pitiless upon occasion—and in the coming minutes—but you’ll thank me for it one day. I’ve peered into the future, you see, and selected the best paths. I will win in the end, I promise you.”
“And if I refuse to cooperate?” she asked, knowing she shouldn’t appear too eager.
He shrugged, unconcerned. “I’ll use you, anyway.”
“Yeah. I figured that.” To beat this god, she needed to learn his weaknesses and tells. The way Halo had learned hers. The best way to do that? Attack. And there was no better time.
Ophelia didn’t spend precious moments debating what to do. She leaped, raking her claws over his throat. Skin and muscle tore, hot blood pouring. He evinced no reaction, however. Just smiled wider and wrapped a stalwart arm around her waist, locking her against him. As she struggled, he tightened his grip, cracking her ribs.
“Wrong choice,” he told her, sounding delighted. “But don’t worry. I won’t punish you for it. I understand your reluctance. To prove my goodwill, I’ll even ensure you suffer no heinous deaths for the full week after this. A time to get to know your new lover better. For now...”
As phantoms appeared, grabbing her arms and legs to hold her in place, he withdrew a dagger. The dagger.
The two sides of her warred. Fight harder—or carry on? What was this weapon, exactly? What all could it do? How did it change her?
“Ready?” He shoved the tip of the dagger under her skin, beneath the disk—and carved.
Searing pain swamped her, and she screamed. Black dots swarmed in her vision. She nearly vomited.
When he finished, a gaping hole decorated her chest, a jagged circle of raw muscle on display. He grinned, his white teeth penetrating her veil of pain. “There. That’s better.” He pressed the blade flat against her chest, no disk in the way.
Blood gurgled from her mouth, speech beyond her as she wheezed.
As a soft red glow shone brighter and brighter, he announced, “The primordial hydra, with augmentations.”
Her pain escalated, rolling through her like thunder. No part of her was unaffected. On her shoulders, skin tore, something growing from her body. Rising. Snapping teeth at the air.
Boils appeared on her skin only to burst open and hardened into steel-hard scales. Bones lengthened and reshaped. Muscles ripped, sprouting new ones.
The god backed away from her as the instinct to kill hit. But not Halo. Erebus. All twelve versions of him.
Twelve? Comprehension dawned. Twelve sets of eyes—twelve heads. Twelve mouths. She licked her tongues over shockingly sharp teeth. Kill.
“More magnificent than I dared dream,” Erebus said, clapping. “Now be a good girl and do your best to kill our man. Kill Halo Phaninon.”
Kill Halo. Yes. Halo must die. She caught a whiff of his scent. Sniff, sniff. There.
Ophelia launched forward and barreled through some kind of an obstacle. In the back of her mind, she heard a trumpet blare. The perfect melody for her mantra. Kill Halo. Kill. Kill...
Three minutes earlier
Awaiting Ophelia’s return, Halo paced through the bedroom. He’d righted his clothing, but not his mind. They had things to discuss.
He glanced at the doorway that blocked the female from his view. This separation from her...he didn’t like it. He wanted his gaze on her always. If Erebus made another play for her...
What was she doing in there, anyway? Avoiding him? The water had shut off five minutes and thirty-four seconds ago. Did she regret what they’d done together? Did he?
He hadn’t produced stardust. The harpymph had climax and bolted. His strain hadn’t lessened for long...but he wanted to do everything again.
How was any of this helping him?
He scowled. He’d be better off pondering Erebus. How would the god strike next? What was the Bloodmor and what could it do besides harm Halo more than the Blade of Destiny? Had the Bloodmor summoned the lioness, perhaps? Would the weapon summon the other beasts? There must be a link between the two, considering those beasts would help determine whether or not Halo won.
Apprehension skittered down his spine, and he cast another glance at the bathroom door. “Ophelia?”
No response. Unacceptable. Halo had waited long enough. Muscles swelling with sudden aggression, he palmed a three-blade and prepared to enter.