Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Somehow, I don’t believe you.” Atalanta allows me to slip under her arm again and move us through the door. The hallway here is worn and gray and generally depressing, because why would the university care about its staff existing in nice spaces?
My body is slowly coming back online. There are some pins and needles, but I’ve powered through worse with less on the line. “Well, getting out of here is only the first of our problems. I don’t exactly have a doctor on call for stab wounds.” I do have first aid kits stashed all over the city, but I don’t think those will do the trick. Atalanta is still on her feet through sheer determination—and she’s got a lot of determination. I suspect a normal person would have been down-and-out a long time ago.
“Just get us out of here,” she grits out. “We’ll figure out the rest once we don’t have to worry about being taken captive or killed outright.”
There’s no time or energy to argue. I find the door I’m looking for, and we make a truly precarious descent down a set of stairs to the maintenance tunnel running under the campus. Olympus’s determination to appear perfect at all times really works in my favor. Especially now.
“Almost there.”
“You keep saying that.” She’s allowing me to take more of her weight now. Atalanta has a good six inches on me, and she wasn’t such a fierce competitor in the Ares tournament because she’s a waifish creature.
I slow to a stop at the bottom of the stairs at the other end of the tunnel. “These should take us into the science building on the far side of campus. I highly doubt Circe has people there, but we can’t exactly be sure.” I glance back the way we came. So far, there are no sounds of pursuit, which means they’re still looking for us aboveground. Good.
Atalanta sighs, the sound rattling in a truly worrisome way. She sinks down onto the second stair and carefully stretches out her legs. “I can handle a set of stairs, Hermes.”
“Don’t start lying to me now.” I scrub my hands over my face. My list of allies is significantly shorter than it was a few months ago. If I’m being perfectly honest, it’s downright nonexistent. “Do you have your phone?”
She gives me a long look and passes it over. “Who are you going to call? Anyone who would be even remotely inclined to help us is on the other side of the barrier.”
“I know.” It’s a long shot—the longest shot—but I dial a number from memory and listen to it ring. He might pick up, but even if he does, he’ll hang up the moment he realizes it’s me calling. And why not? We were the best of friends for years and years, and through it all, I was plotting to bring down the city he loves. Worse, I used our friendship as a cover for nefarious deeds.
“I don’t know who this is, but if you’re trying to sell me something, I may crawl through the phone and strangle you with my bare hands.”
Despite everything, I smile. I missed hearing his voice, that slow drawl as if he can’t be bothered to speak quickly. “Dionysus, I’m in trouble and I need you. Atalanta has been stabbed.”
He’s silent for a very long time. Long enough that I have to bite my lip to keep from begging. Finally, he says, “I am very, very angry with you.”
“I know.” I can’t help the way my shoulders droop a little. “Saying ‘sorry’ doesn’t mean much and wouldn’t change anything.”
“That might be true, but it’s still a good place to start.”
A ragged laugh bursts from me. I’ve missed him so much. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve been a terrible friend, and you deserved better.”
He sighs. “It’s very silly how much I needed to hear that.”
“Maybe not so silly at all.” I glance at Atalanta. She has her eyes closed and is breathing in a very intentional, steady way that makes me worried. “We’re in a lot of trouble.”
“I’m on my way.”
13
Atalanta
I lose a little time. Circe didn’t hit anything vital with the knife, but I’m still bleeding steadily and it hurts like a bitch. Exhaustion weighs me down, promising sweet oblivion if I’d close my eyes, just for a little bit.
The next thing I know, Hermes is pushing me into the back seat of a car and climbing in after me. Her face is worried, so fucking worried, her dark-brown eyes containing so many things we’ve left unsaid over the years. “Don’t you dare go to sleep.”
“I’m not dying today.” I’m just tired. So fucking tired, as if all the energy spent in the last decade has drained out of me all at once.
She looks to the front seat. “I don’t suppose you have a doctor on call.”