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moment before the embers in them dulled. Gone as quick as it came.
“Oh, sister, I truly did.” Hera let loose an amused smile towards the pair of them as she lifted
her glass in toast to the nightmare she just helped to create.
Chapter 22
Devon tried to calm himself, but the more he tried, the tighter his skin felt.
His nerves tingled along the surface as if he had bugs crawling underneath his flesh. The sudden movement of people around him made the sensation worse.
The floor beneath him shook.
What are they yelling at?
Overloaded, he felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his skull from the pressure building there.
His hearing was suddenly a loud roar, and he, vaguely, heard his name. A hand wrapped around
his arm, pulling at him. He couldn’t even focus, his vision blurry.
When his vision did clear for a moment, he found himself on a balcony.
How did I get here?
His brain felt like it was melting in his skull.
Persephone’s face came into view. It almost seemed like she was under water. Or maybe that was him? His vision was rippling, his hearing roaring, his heart thundering.
His head suddenly jerked to the side as if someone slapped him, but he felt nothing. The din inside him dulled enough for him to recognize Persephone attempting to neutralize his power, but it wasn’t working.
It. Wasn’t. Working.
Panic truly set in.
Persephone had never mentioned how Gods could die — could an explosion do it? Like the one building up inside him?
A man suddenly appeared behind Persephone. He could see that, and abruptly the feeling of internal combustion lessened inside him. Almost as if transferred to someone other than him.
The man. The man was too close to Persephone. No one should be that close to her but him.
Only ever me.
Anyone else was a danger to her. To them.
That was all he could think as his mind recognized the man, Tristan, behind Persephone. He
was saying something to her, Devon’s ears still not hearing anything but a loud roar.
It was Tristan, then it was his old Captain. The one Devon knew was dead, yet he stood before him. One moment Tristan, the next, his greatest nemesis in his life.
It was when Tristan/The Captain touched her arm as if to pull her away, something in him snapped.
No.
He will not touch her!
Before he knew it, Persephone was behind him as he faced the man. An ear-splitting cacophony rattled the windows. The sound of glass breaking as shards pelted them like rain. And as suddenly as the man who wore both Tristan and the Captain’s faces had appeared, he was gone.
