Pandora (Book 3) (The Omega Group) (19 page)

Mirissa stared in awe at the scene surrounding her—Daedric
gloating over his ingenious trap, while his captives waited for her to rescue
them. Every detail of the calamity she’d caused, replicated to perfection.

She’d been so arrogant, choosing to confront the demi-god
alone instead of enlisting the Omega Group’s help. How could she have been so
stupid? Yes, she had incredible powers, but that didn’t make up for her
immaturity and hubris.

“You have me, now let them go,” she heard herself say. Those
were her exact words when she’d entered the game room three months prior.

“I don’t believe I can do that.
 
You see, young Mirissa, Grainger betrayed me
when he helped the Omega group escape their safe house.
 
His fate, and the beautiful Meghan’s, was a
foregone conclusion.
 
Your father and his
Navy friends sealed their own fates when they broke into my home.
 
What kind of example would I be setting for
my men if I simply let them walk away?” Daedric said, as though following the
script from their initial encounter.

Mirissa knew exactly how this would all play out but
couldn’t stop herself from saying and doing the same foolish things she’d done
the first time. Minute by agonizing minute, she reenacted every mistake she’d
made, until Daedric gave the order that would forever be ingrained in her
memory.

“Shoot the one on the left,” he said.

Lincoln’s chest exploded as the bullet tore through him. His
gaze locked on hers, full of the accusation she knew she deserved, as he
crumpled to the floor. “How could you let this happen to me?” he said,
departing from the script. “I tried to help you, and this is what I get?”

“I’m sorry,” Mirissa cried. “I didn’t mean for this to
happen. I made a terrible mistake.” Mirissa wrapped her arms around her chest
as tears streaked down her face.
What
have I done?
Before she had time to answer, the scene reset itself.

“You have me, now let them go,” she heard herself say again.

Over and over, Mirissa replayed the worst excerpt of her
life. Each time, Lincoln’s final words grew more hateful—and well deserved—than
the last. Try as she might, she couldn’t change the outcome. An innocent man, a
decorated Navy SEAL, murdered because she lacked the strength to save him.

But she didn’t. Not anymore. She’d learned from her
mistakes. She understood her weaknesses. She’d never again be so arrogant as to
think she could handle a situation like that on her own.

Mirissa collapsed to the floor as Lincoln’s latest acerbic
words washed over her. “Stop!” she yelled. “Please, stop.” It did no good. Like
a demonic DVR set on a vicious loop, the sequence rewound.

“You have me, now let them go,” she said.

Mirissa, you can do
this. I feel your anguish. Fight through whatever is happening to you.

Her mother’s voice came from inside her head, obscuring
Daedric’s.

We believe in you,
sweetheart. Our entire tribe joined me on Tritonia so I could reach you. Do
your best. That’s all anyone can ask.

Mirissa went through the motions of the reenactment for the
umpteenth time. Every word and action the same as it had been before. The one
difference was how she viewed it.

Yes, she’d made a terrible mistake going there alone, but
had she chosen differently, Lincoln might still have died. Any of them could
have been killed. She’d done her best, and an innocent man lost his life. But
four others, including her father, had been saved.

“I’m not that person, anymore,” she yelled to no one. “I’ve
made mistakes, and I’ll make some more, but that doesn’t make me weak. I’m
strong enough to be on my own, and I’m strong enough to ask for help when I
need it.” Mirissa brought her hands to her face, pressing her palms to her
eyelids. “Show me the damn box!”

Silence. Lincoln’s latest monologue cut short.

When she opened her eyes, she stood in a small, unadorned
space carved in stone, a fraction of the size of Daedric’s game room. An
intricately carved metal chest sat insignificantly on the floor in front of
her. She hadn’t expected a laser light show surrounding a magically hovering
box, or anything, but its complete lack of fanfare was a bit of a letdown.

The creak of unused hinges drew her attention to the door
behind her. As it swung open, she saw Flip, peering at her through the sliver opening
between his fingers. The expression of relief on his face when he dropped his
hands to his side made her laugh. Greco, who’d also looked wary at what he
might see, charged through the
doorway
and picked her
up off her feet in an enthusiastic bear hug.

“It’s all right. I’m okay,” she said, as he placed her back
down.

“Of course you are. I knew you would be,” Greco lied. When
he looked over her shoulder at the chest on the floor, he asked, “So, that’s
it?”

“Yep. Not what I expected, either,” she answered.

Greco placed his hands on her face. “We’re running out of
time.”

“What? But how …?” She looked down at her watch, shocked at
what she saw. “Holy crap! I’ve been in here for almost ten hours?”

“The longest ten hours of my life,” Greco said. “But now it’s
time for you to finish this.” He drew her in for another memorable kiss, before
guiding her over to the box. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

Artemis let loose another arrow, and it flew straight and
true to her target yet still hit nothing. Eris simply teleported out of its
way. She defended herself against Zeus’s lightning bolts, Hera’s energy fields,
and the axe favored by Styx, in the same manner. No matter what weapon they
unleashed, Eris avoided it with ease.

The first time she’d done it, she materialized, scythe in
hand, right behind an unsuspecting Zeus. Had Styx not been at his side, ready
to swing his axe, their ruler would have died right then. From that point
forward, neither Styx nor Hera moved more than a few inches away from Zeus.

That left Artemis, Athena, and Persephone to keep Eris busy.
They had no delusions about defeating the goddess of chaos, not while she held
the only weapon capable of killing a god, anyway. They simply needed to stop
her from using it. And keep Hecate safe long enough for her to complete her
task.

Come on, Hecate. We’re
running out of time.

Eris screamed at Daedric, “Get over here and help me!”
 

He took a tentative step forward. When Zeus unleashed a trio
of lightning bolts that easily pierced the demi-god’s pathetic attempt at a
shield, he appeared to think better of his choice to participate.

Artemis considered taking him out of the fight permanently,
but decided against that course of action after he skulked off to the far
corner. He obviously knew he wouldn’t survive the battle, and she felt no need
to split her concentration when he’d clearly chosen to remove himself. Instead,
she focused entirely on Eris.

Artemis loosed arrow after arrow, never hitting her mark,
but keeping Eris on the move. Persephone, who’d borrowed a little something
from her husband, tormented their prey by perpetually sneaking up on her, as
though to steal the scythe.

When Athena came up with their plan of attack, she’d
stressed how important it would be for them to steer clear of the blade. The
invisibility granted by
Hades’s
helmet allowed
Persephone to get close, but it offered no protection. Carefully judging her
distance, Persephone proved a convincing distraction, repeatedly interfering
with Eris’s concentration.

Athena, always the strategist, spent more time watching and
analyzing than actually participating in the fight. She jabbed her spear at
Eris whenever the opportunity arose but seemed more engrossed in whatever
calculations she was working on.

A slight smile graced Athena’s face as she made her way over
to Artemis. “For a goddess of chaos, she’s unexpectedly predictable,” she
whispered.

Artemis, never taking her eyes off Eris as she loosed more
arrows, spoke in a low tone. “How so?”

“Shoot five more arrows at her, and keep track of where she
materializes each time,” Athena instructed.

Artemis did as she was told, memorizing the seemingly random
locations. “Okay, what does it mean?”

“Repeat the same exercise,” came her only response.

Artemis grew impatient. “I’m a little busy right now,
Athena. Can you maybe just tell me what you’ve discovered and hold off on the
teaching opportunity until later?”

“Trust me,” she responded, apparently not hearing the
annoyance behind the request.

Artemis once again did as instructed. By the time the last
arrow clattered to the floor, she understood. “Set it up,” she said.

Athena spoke to each of the gods in turn, then gave a quick
nod to signal their readiness.

If the pattern held true, she’d materialize directly on top
of one of the scorch marks left by Zeus’s bolts. Each god covered one of the
five targets, and as soon as Eris teleported out, they unleashed their weapons.
Four of the five made no contact, but Athena’s spear drove deep into Eris’s gut
the instant she appeared.

Eris let loose an ear-piercing scream, probably more from
anger than pain. Her eyes turned wild as she lashed out at the goddess who had
outsmarted her. Unfortunately, Athena’s spear proved more difficult to withdraw
than expected.

Artemis saw the scythe too late. She reacted on instinct,
adjusting her aim and firing. A split second later, Athena tumbled, an arrow
protruding from her shoulder. The scythe slicing across her arm as she fell to
the floor.

A sliver of white light shot from her wound, drawing an uncharacteristic
string of curses. But, as quickly as the light had appeared, it faded away,
leaving a nasty gouge in Athena’s previously unmarred flesh.

Satisfied that her friend would survive, Artemis returned
her attention to Eris. Her wound almost fully healed, the goddess angrily
pushed herself to her feet. Readying for the next wave of battle, Artemis again
nocked an arrow. A scream, this time from another source, stopped her from
letting it loose.

“I found it!” Hecate, still monitoring her mystical conduit,
jumped out from the relative safety of her hiding space. “The box—it’s in
Tartarus.”

It’s about time,
Artemis
thought.

All eyes in the room followed Hecate’s gaze to the glittery
image floating above the floor. Mirissa, flanked on either side by Flip and
Greco, stood before the chest, with her key in hand.

“No!” Eris wailed, then disappeared through the floor.

Athena sighed in relief. “Well, it was a good plan.” She
yanked the arrow out of her shoulder and handed it to Artemis. “Up until you
shot me, of course.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Artemis said.

Hera, still standing with Zeus, cocked her head as though
listening to something no one else could hear. “It’s done. Persephone’s just
returned. Remind me to borrow that invisibility helmet next time Zeus calls one
of his meetings. Being able to leave unnoticed could come in handy.” She patted
her scowling husband on the cheek.

“Let’s hope, for Mirissa’s sake, it works,” Artemis said.

Mirissa pulled the key from around her neck. The writing
that had appeared on it when the box first opened once again glowed from the
metal. Although the symbols were still indecipherable to her, she couldn’t
forget the message they spelled out.

Your essence is
mankind’s only hope.

This was it. Her destiny sat before her in the shape of an
old chest. Taking a deep breath, Mirissa knelt in front of it, running her hand
along the beautiful designs decorating its surface.
I can do this.
She held the key in her trembling hand, paused for a
moment, then jammed it in the lock before she had time to change her mind.

Nothing.

The key dangled loosely from the too large opening, so
Mirissa grabbed it again, twisting it
right
and left,
hoping to engage whatever locking mechanism hid inside. “It’s not working. Why
isn’t it
worki
—?”

Mirissa gasped as an unseen force gripped her. The glow
coming from the inscription on the key intensified, until a deep red blaze
filled the box, seeping through the spaces between the lid and base.

The chain, still hanging from the key, disintegrated as a
beam of the red light exploded through the lock and hit Mirissa in the chest.
Her arms shot out to the sides, her head flung back, as the force enveloped her
torso. Terror consumed her as she waited for her inevitable death.

“Mirissa!” She heard Greco yell, but couldn’t form words to
answer him. Even if she’d been able, what could she have said to comfort him?

Warmth spread through her as the field of light grew to encompass
her entire body. It felt pleasant, as opposed to the horrific pain she’d
imagined. She was at peace, totally and completely, for the first time in her
life. The fear and sadness of leaving her friends and family evaporated, leaving
behind only contentment.

The lid of the box swung open on its hinges in front of her,
and the light inside began to swirl. Faster and faster it spun, until it
reminded Mirissa of the whirlpools created in rivers when currents meet.

The vortex caused a subtle shift in the beam of light
emanating from the keyhole. It began to draw Mirissa’s energy away from her.
She watched, transfixed, as tiny golden specs floated in the red glow
surrounding her. They made their way to the beam and travelled through to the
vortex. Her essence, her soul, was being absorbed.

As the first golden particles mixed in the vortex, the
ceiling exploded above her. Shards of rock began to fall, then immediately
blinked out of existence, leaving a gaping black hole so deep she couldn’t see
its end.

A smile formed on Mirissa’s lips. She felt no fear, simply
an overwhelming joy at beginning the task she’d been destined to perform. Her
essence continued to feed the box, strengthening it and weakening her. Within
seconds, red clouds and black tendrils of smoke streamed from the hole, joining
with the vortex in the waiting box. More and more flowed out, as their journey
through the black hole brought them home.

“No!” The scream came from behind her, but Mirissa ignored
it. There would be nothing she could do anyway. Her shoulders hunched, arms
limp at her sides, as more of her strength departed.

Movement from beside her caught her attention.
Is that Eris?
She’d only ever seen her
in the vision from Ares’s palace, but the evil she emanated was unmistakable.
Mirissa turned her head, an action that took most of her remaining strength, in
time to see the goddess frozen in place by another beam of red light.

The goddess, scythe gripped tightly in her hand, wore a
horrified expression as the glow enveloped her. She glanced up to the tunnel
above them as though waiting for something. When the last cloud and tendril
emerged and joined the vortex in the box, Mirissa understood.

Eris’s turn had come.

********

Greco watched as the woman he loved slowly died right in
front of him. He’d never before felt so utterly helpless. The golden specks
that once filled the red glow surrounding her, were now so few and far between,
he could barely see them.

When Eris charged into the room, he instinctively started
after her but was again rendered useless. Although he would have happily
challenged a goddess if it meant protecting Mirissa, the box had taken care of
that for him.

Eris stood, unmoving, staring up at the clouds pouring out
of the hole in the ceiling. When there were no more, she dropped her gaze to
Mirissa.

“Hello, young warrior,” a familiar, yet unexpected voice
called out.

“Queen Myrine? Is that you?” Greco asked, trying to find
her.

“Of course it is … oh, I forgot. Sorry.” Two feet to his
right, the ancient Amazon queen materialized, removing an odd-looking gray
helmet from her head.

“How …? What are you doing here?” Greco stammered.

Queen Myrine glanced to Mirissa before answering. “There
isn’t much time. I need you to leave the room, Greco.”

“What? No way,” he said, exasperated. He’d just gotten
in
the room; nothing could make him
leave Mirissa now.

She grabbed his shoulders and spoke in a tone normally
associated with elementary school principals. “Eris has the scythe. I can use
it to channel my power into Mirissa. It’s how she gained so much strength while
fighting Daedric in Delphi. She took some of his power. But you must leave
first.”

“No, let it channel my power, too,” Greco demanded.

She shook her head in frustration. “If you don’t leave, my
power may get sent to you, or worse. Yours may be given to me.” She stole a
quick glance at Mirissa. “We must hurry, young warrior.”

Greco’s eyes swiveled between the woman he loved and the
queen he respected. He should be at Mirissa’s side, not out in the hall. He was
more than just her boyfriend, he was her guardian.

“Greco! Now!” the queen yelled.

Damn it.
“Okay.
Come on, Flip,” he agreed.

“I can stay. A full-blooded god already has all of the power
we will ever have. We can’t send or receive it. Only lower beings can,” Flip
said, giving Queen Myrine an admiring look.

Greco nodded, though he wanted to strangle the god for being
able to stay. Taking one last look at Mirissa, he stepped into the alcove on
the other side of the door. He would follow the queen’s instructions, but
damned if he’d go any further away than that.

Eris remained in place. Mostly. Her body changed from a
solid mass to an almost translucent gas. Her features, so sharp just moments
before, floated in the way an image floats when looking at it through water.
Her time in these realms would be over soon.

Greco’s heart wrenched when Mirissa crumpled to the floor.
Her time would be over soon, too.

“Hurry!” he yelled.

Myrine handed the helmet over to
Flip
and closed her eyes. Seconds passed where nothing happened, and Greco watched
the last few golden specks swirl around Mirissa. He closed his eyes and prayed,
to whom, he didn’t know.
Please, please,
please.

When he opened them, Mirissa remained crumpled on the floor.
Greco followed the final golden speck on its path, only to see another, this
one green, appear next to it. Then another, and another. Soon, hundreds of
green particles surrounded Mirissa’s golden one, then hundreds more started
traveling through the beam of light into the box.

Eris, or what remained of her, came apart like a plume of
smoke hit by a gust of wind. Her remnants sucked into the vortex an instant
before the lid slammed shut, leaving the room devoid of the warm, red glow. Mirissa’s
key melted itself into the metal, forever sealing the lock.

Greco felt so overjoyed at the presence of the single golden
particle when the lid closed, he almost forgot to thank Queen Myrine for
sharing her powers. But, when he looked at her, he knew she’d done so much more
than that.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Myrine?” he asked.

The queen’s image floated much like Eris’s had. “This was my
choice to make, young warrior. I didn’t need your permission.” She smiled
warmly. “I’ve lived an exceptionally long and beautiful life. I’ve been blessed
with the honor of leading and mentoring generations of Amazons over thousands
of years. This”—she gestured to Mirissa—“has been my greatest honor, by far.”

Greco swallowed hard and bowed his head. “Thank you, my
queen.”

The fading image of the ancient Queen Myrine smiled warmly,
gave him a playful wink, and dispersed into the air.