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No, no, no. This wasn’t—she couldn’t—the bedroom vanished, an unfamiliar throne room taking its place. Dark stone walls surrounded her, with a single row of torches stretching on all sides. A mirror as large as the one Hades owned hung from a vaulted ceiling.
As her hysteria dulled, she grew confused. What in the world? She perched on a throne made of fossilized hearts. Lore’s children lounged at her feet, gazing at her with adoration. She soaked up the attention, charging like a battery.
Neeka reared back, getting into fight mode—except, she didn’t move an inch. She remained reclined on the throne of hearts, drumming the seat’s arms with the tips of too long, pointy nails. She now wore a black ball gown suitable for a storybook evil queen, and she had white skin. What the—what?
“That’s right. Love me, my darlings.” Lore’s voice echoed through the room, and shockingly, Neeka heard her. Such a soft, melodious voice. “Fuel me. I know you are upset I’m flesh and blood while you remain in spirit form, able to touch me no longer. But those I’m soon to birth will move between spirit and natural, solidifying and misting at will. They will be your bridge to do the same.”
Their adoration intensified, and Lore moaned.
“Yes, yes. Just like that, my lovelies. I must be as strong as possible.”
More odd thoughts drifted through Neeka’s mind.What is wrong with me? Why do I feel the oracle?
She thought of herself as ‘the oracle’ now? Or... Huh. Had she forced a Peer without knowing it? Although, this felt like so much more than an inner eye connection. This felt as if she’d become a part of Lore.
Oh...crap. Guess they were done baking. Had the elixircombinedthem? Was that how it tied two people together?
The other woman gasped. “Combined us? Elixir? What did you do?” Lore screeched, upsetting her audience. Their scales spiked with aggression. “I will rip you out of me if I must!”
Neeka heard her voice as well as her thoughts, and apparently the goddess heard Neeka’s thoughts too. But why was Neeka trapped inside Lore and not the other way around? Neeka had drunk two glasses, the goddess one; she should be the carrier, not the carried.
“Ah, I see what you did,” Lore intoned. “Details are unrolling from your chaotic mind. How do you function like this?” She rubbed her temples. “Obviously, you are the weaker vessel.”
Hardly! But why would her foresight lead her to do this? To condemn herself to such a horrendous future? She and Rathbone had worked up the most amazing plan.
Gah!Don’t think about the plan.
Of course, now she could think of nothingbutthe plan.
Anger drained from Lore, and she snorted. “I doubt Rathbone will be so eager to become Azar and kill me when he learns I carry his beloved.”
Neeka beat her fists into the goddess’s mind to no avail. She must escape. Must get to Rathbone.
“Hmmm. I wonder if I have access to your foresight. When you have a vison, will I?” A tinkling laugh escaped the treacherous female. “I like this very much. Maybe I’ll keep you around for a while.” To the hell spawn who prowled at her feet, she said, “I’ll return with our army. Finally the goddess of desire will haveherdesires met. Power beyond imagining. Worlds at my feet, no one strong enough to steal what belongs to me.” She stood and flashed to a spacious bedroom in the harpy palace. Azar’s bedroom. A part of Lore was overjoyed to be there. Neeka felt her excitement.
The Astra pumped iron on a bench, sweat pouring over his bulging muscles. He didn’t glance at Lore as she leaned against the side of the machine, but he definitely noticed her presence. He compressed his lips as hatred and longing pulsed from him.
Where was Rathbone?
“Hello, handsome.” Lore stared at his mouth for seconds longer than polite, her blood rushing hot. “Are you ready for our big day?”
“You genuinely desire him,” Neeka gasped out.How can I use this information to my advantage?
“You can’t,” Lore snapped, no longer quite so happy.
“Can’t what?” Azar demanded, placing the bar in its perch and sitting up.
Scowling, she said, “Just thought you should know the oracle is a part of me now. We drank an elixir, and it combined us. I can hear her thoughts. Rathbone plans to shift into you and kill me. Be a dear and hobble him.”
Surprise glistened in the warlord’s extraordinary irises.
Neeka fought with all her might to seize the reins of control. She grappled. Clawed. Kicked and screamed. The exertion depleted her—and empowered her hostess.
“Mmm, yes,” Lore said with a delighted moan. “Keep doing that.”
Neeka deflated, shocked. She’d failed?
Azar wiped a rag over his sweat-dampened brow, his palms already glittering with stardust. “Erebus isn’t your fated. I am. He’s done something to convince you—”
