I quickly set the bowl down and pick up another object, feeling around until I find the same pattern of small bumps. Every item in here must have the same directions on it—directions that make the hope wither in my chest like the hydrangeas after Demeter got upset.
I look up the path that is almost entirely stairs that wind and climb the mountainside into the heart of Olympus, and my hopeful heart drops back to the soles of my feet to be trampled.
Fuck me.
The gong resounds. “Five minutes. Gods and goddesses, leave to wait for your champions at the appointed location.”
I’ll never make it in time.
Out of nowhere, Hades appears at my side. “Go.”
I lift my chin and take a deep breath. I haven’t spent all my life tooling around the steep hills of San Francisco for nothing.
I grab his arm for balance while I strip the fancy heels from my feet. Then I throw them to the ground and take off running up the stairs.
15
You Better Work, Bitch
The stairs are steep and winding…and marble. Slick marble. In no time, my lungs and legs are burning hard, my breath so loud that I sound like the little engine that could struggling to chug up the mountain, and I keep slipping, too, which slows me down more.
Up ahead, a burst of movement catches my eye, but I’m busy watching the stairs to keep from tripping, so I don’t see what. I round the corner and have to leap back as a massive head rushes me with sharp-tooth-filled jaws. A trumpeting roar of challenge ricochets off the mountains all around as a hydra rises up, blocking the stairs, its seven heads writhing and snapping at one another, three of them focused on me.
I can practically feel Apollo’s chariot moving the sun through the sky faster. The time I have left to get to the top is ticking down. I can’t fight a monster even if I had a weapon on me, which I don’t.
The hydra stares at me, and I stare at it.
A silver butterfly flits behind one of the heads, and I gasp. The monster sways and snaps its jaws as it blocks my path, but it doesn’t attack. I watch the butterfly flutter in circles behind the giant beast. Wait. No. I watch the butterfly…through the beast.
Is this an illusion? Like the food or the gargoyle?
What am I supposed to do? I’m out of time.
Heart hammering, I take a deep breath, lower my gaze to my feet, and go. I sprint right at the hydra and yelp when yellowing, jagged teeth surround me as I plow into what should be its open maw. But the second I make contact, it disappears in a wisp of smoke and the stairs are clear.
I stagger and catch my breath. I have no doubt Hades sent me the butterfly. I might just kiss that damn god of death when I get to him.
At that thought, I miss a step and almost go down but manage to keep my feet under me. I have to run through two more monster illusions on my way up—a cyclops and a griffin—but now I know to just barrel on through. They don’t slow me a bit.
By now, I’m losing steam. I can’t drag oxygen into my lungs fast enough. My legs feel like they’re filled with thousands of little weighted balls as I clomp up the stairs on feet I can no longer feel.
I slow.
And slow.
And slow.
Until I am using the rail to drag myself up. Boone would do this better. Hells, any pledge but me.
I have to be close, don’t I?
I wince. I can see the top now, at least, but my body won’t get me there. Not in time.
“You call that trying?”
For a second, I think I’ve hallucinated Felix up ahead of me, until I force myself to focus and realize that Hades is standing at the top of the stairs. Is that far enough inside Olympus to count for this? If I get to him, do I win?
“I know you can do better than this, Lyra.”
Asshole. This god put me here, and now he’s going to taunt me? Hot anger churns in my chest and flares all the way to my toes, feeding a needed burst of adrenaline that zings through my muscles and clears my mind for a moment.
I force myself to move. To move faster than my body wants me to. To move faster than I should. And I pay for it. Every single nerve is screaming as if lit on fire. My vision starts to close in, darkness trying to consume the edges and narrowing my sight to a tunnel. But I fix that remaining pinpoint of sight on Hades and don’t stop.
I don’t even pause when a gong sounds and my heart drops. But it wasn’t like my heart wasn’t getting me up these stairs anyway. I’ve got nothing left in me but sheer will.
“Move!” he bellows. Like it matters to him if I make it.
And the gong goes off again. These must be ticking off seconds now, marking the end of my time. Taking the steps two at once, I run in rhythm with the chimes.
“Five,” he yells.
He’s counting down.
Shit.
“Four.”
