Minos. His scarlet robes were like a splash of blood amongst the otherwise gray tone of the setting. Lastly, Aeacus sat on the right in white robes, holding a scepter and bearing keys upon his belt.
Before them the souls of those waiting to be judged were gathered. As I watched, they performed their duty and the souls were sent to either the left or the right. The left-hand lane was a rutted and muddy path with steep inclines and declines, and all of it was edged with spiked and jutting rocks. The right-hand route was a smooth, flower-lined trail that gently dipped only as it ran under the rearmost structure.
The left-hand path was getting far more foot traffic, but Hades guided us off the road and toward the right, which brought the other structure into full view. It was an imposing black marble palace, surrounded by thick marble walls with rounded towers at each corner sprouting up from the tops of enormous gunmetal-gray skulls. The skulls appeared to be solid steel, with the eyes and nose set with the same marble that made up the exterior of the palace and the defensive walls. The cheekbones of these skulls were so sharp, and the jaws so square, that I would have wagered they were modeled after Hades’s own features.
The skyscraping towers were each topped with a dozen black-edged silver banners flapping in the wind. The castle itself was a rectangular, multilevel structure with a crenellated roofline. Long banners like those flying from the tower tops draped either side of the main entry to the palace, and likewise, alongside the main gates of the walls.
A cry of pain resounded across the plain behind me and I turned to see a man who had stumbled in the ruts of the left-hand lane and fallen onto the dreadful rock edge. As I watched he slid onto the road and writhed in pain. No one else on that path seemed to notice him as they passed. No one stopped. “Will anyone help him?”
“He must help himself,” Hades said.
“He looks hurt. What if he can’t?”
“Then, he will lie there forever.”
I frowned. “You could help him, couldn’t you?”
“I could,” he said. “But why?”
My expression did not change.
“You are compassionate, my beauty. I admire that, but aiding him will not help him. Do you understand?”
I shook my head.
“In this place, he must travel of his own power. He must spend his time in Tartarus. He will find his way to Elysium, eventually.” After being silent for several paces, he asked, “Do you think me cruel, Persephone?”
When he said my name many of the men escorting us shot quick looks at me. Some started to whisper, and were signaled into silence by others.
“I don’t know what to think.”
He squeezed my hand tighter. “Perhaps you are thirsty from our long walk. Patroclus, fetch the lady some water.”
“From the well, my lord?”
“No,” he said with a nonchalant gesture. “From the eastern river. Its flavor is sweeter.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Giovanni’s knee was bouncing impatiently as he sat in the darkened back of the white van. It was parked near Blood Culture—downtown Cleveland’s vampire bar.
Neither of them could be sated by Adam every night, let alone two of them. They needed him to drive them, and to watch over them during the day, so they agreed to send him in to buy blood.
It risked exposing that Giovanni was back in town, but Liyliy had already been seen and they hoped the man’s purchase would be linked only to her. To reinforce that idea, after Adam had been inside for a few minutes, Giovanni told Liyliy, “Perhaps you should step outside the van and be seen by observers near the club.”
“But I am hideous! The people will—”
“You are not hideous, Liyliy. Your sisters did much to heal you.” It was true. Though she was far from perfect, she had regained a level of her former looks that, considering how horrifying she had been, he found acceptable. Her body was still feminine and curvy in the right places. Half of her face was normal, but the eye on the other side was sealed shut with grotesque scar tissue. She was fully aware of it and gave him only a profile view of her best side. He could pretend that the other side was undamaged if she kept it turned away.
Wordlessly, she exited the van and paced impatiently next to it with her arms crossed. The hand with the damaged fingers she kept tucked under.
The hunger was gnawing at him terribly; he imagined it must be worse for her. She’d told him that after she’d delivered the phones to her sisters she had had to fight her way out of the haven.
But she hadn’t spoken a word to him about the child.
He hated her for it. And yet he admired her for it as well.
His brain was still rushing over the possibilities. If he had the child in his control, no enemy could ever keep him out. He could organize a loyal team and destroy anyone who opposed him.
First, he would seize the girl and use her to bring the Lustrata to his side. Then he’d gather a group of expert thieves and, without ever being on scene for any crime, obtain limitless wealth to fund his goals. He could use his position near the Excelsior to establish his power base while keeping his identity as the architect of all the mayhem a secret. Eventually, he would remove the Excelsior and become King of the Vampires. He would end this peaceful coexistence political game. He’d use the Lustrata—once she’d become Wolfsbane as the legends foretold—to wipe out the w?rewolves. He’d burn the witches and enslave the rest of the humans. All that he’d ever dared to imagine was becoming reality . . . all he needed to do was maintain the moment until he could harvest his new, powerful destiny.
Liyliy’s phone rang. Giovanni not only heard the ring as she paced outside the van, but he felt the vibration of his own phone in his pocket. He connected.
“Sister?” Talto asked.
“Yes?”
“I’ve had a concern. What if the child is not trained in magic? Wouldn’t that be terribly problematic?”
“As the foster daughter of the Lustrata I doubt she would be untrained,” Liyliy replied.
“Still, should we not consider this before I begin my part of the plan? If she
Liyliy was silent.
Giovanni was watching her out the front window of the van, and noticed that she turned toward the club. Adam must be coming out, he reasoned.
“Only Ailo can say for sure,” Liyliy said. “Talk about that between the two of you. I trust you both. I’ll talk to you again soon.”
When she hung up she returned to the rear interior of the van. Adam opened his door, and once he was situated in the driver’s seat, he handed the bottles to her. She accepted one for herself, and passed the other to Giovanni. It was warm in his palm.
“You were on the phone. Did your sisters find anything helpful?” he asked.
She unscrewed the cap to her bottle and drank, bringing the bottle to her lips carefully, as if the motion was unnatural.
He wondered if it was because she did not drink from anything but a living person or if it had something to do with her losing an eye.
After she swallowed, she said, “It was Talto checking in with me. Nothing eventful has happened.”
Marveling at the ease of her lie and noting the confidence of her tone, he opened his bottle also. However, Giovanni did not drink. He let the aroma of the blood rise under his nose and he savored the smell. Though nothing would ever be as satisfying as drinking straight from a human, the development of a method to both bottle the fluid and later warm it for vampire consumption had made this manner of feeding less atrocious.
He waited, feeling that pitiless hunger swelling within him and letting it filter throughout his body until it felt
