Chosen (4 page)

Chapter Six

T
he gods weren't going to like it, but Kyana was going to bring a prisoner back to her temple, and they could kiss her ass if they thought she'd give a shit about “rules” right now. Haven had a direct line to Cronos—Kyana had now seen it with her own eyes. That meant Haven was an asset they couldn't keep locked in a cell. It also meant her life was in grave danger, and the safest place was Olympus.

Ares would object the loudest, but Kyana would deal with him. Haven would stay in her temple, whether he liked it or not.

“Will you be sending for Jordan or taking me to her?” Haven asked as they approached the portal to Olympus.

“I'll send for her as soon as you're settled.” Kyana glanced at Geoffrey, watched him awkwardly sneak a peek at Haven from the corner of his eye. They were a sorry pair. Geoffrey and his misplaced honor, determined not to ruin Haven's future by tying her down to the Vampyre he'd once been. Haven wanted children, something she'd never get from a Vampyric mate.

Kyana wondered if Geoffrey realized that was no longer a conflict for them. He was a god now, likely more virile than a damned rabbit. And Haven—she wasn't likely to ever have children now anyway. Unless there was something in her Witch heritage that would balance out her Vampyric blood, that dream was only one of many Kyana had killed when she'd turned Haven. Breeding Vamps were rare.

Kyana's blood ran cold. If Geoffrey could have children now . . . as a goddess, so could she. That was something that had never been an option for her, and as the possibility swirled around her head, she felt dizzy. She and Ryker were going to have to be very careful. Just because she could have children didn't mean she wanted them.

And as the goddess in charge of human fertility, she was likely to be even more fertile than Geoff was virile. Artemis hadn't had kids, but that was simply because she hadn't had sex. Everyone knew Artie was a virgin. Maybe this was why. Maybe she'd known that if she'd had sex at all, she would have spit out a litter—maybe even have populated a small country.

“Do you really believe I'm still working for Cronos?” Haven asked. She pushed her oily hair from her face, and Kyana wondered when she'd last had a real bath. The bathing rooms at the Circle had been minimalistic. Hot water, rough soap. Nothing like the pampering Haven was used to.

Such a small detail, but one of many that had been stripped of the Haven of old—all because Kyana had had the audacity to save her life by turning her into something she should never have been.

“No,” she whispered, not because she didn't want to be overheard, but because guilt was suddenly suppressing her voice. “But if you're going to stay on Olympus, you have to be cleared for everyone else's peace of mind.”

Haven gave a curt nod and stepped through the portal. Kyana followed behind Geoff, her sickness intensified as the magic of the gate penetrated her bones. As they emerged from the other side, Haven let out a gasp of awe.

The first time Kyana had arrived on Olympus, she had been dumbstruck. Everything glimmered and shone here, from the cobbled walkways carved of smoothed granite to the amber and emerald mountains. Nine temples sat atop peaks of their own, from Zeus's, now Ryker's, to Kyana's new home. There was nothing drab or out of place here. It was, in fact, the most perfect place in all the three realms.

Utopia.

And all of it was in danger of being destroyed if they allowed Cronos to reach full power.

“Where the hell did you go?” Ryker appeared directly in their path as they moved toward the road to summon a chariot.

“To see Morpheus.” She told him about the dream link, watched his sun-kissed face pale. “Cronos is building his army and we need to prepare ourselves.”

“You're sure?”

“Yeah, I'm sure. I don't know how much time we have, but he's got a six-week head start on us. We have to call the other gods together and try to figure out how the hell we're going to stop him.”

His gaze swept toward Haven and Geoff, who seemed to be in a heated argument. Haven jerked her arm out of Geoff's grasp and stepped away, nostrils flaring.

“He had me resurrect him for a reason, and it wasn't to spend his glory years rocking on some front porch somewhere!” Haven yelled. “He's coming after me—and all of you—before he carries out his idiotic plan to rule all three realms from Olympus.”

“What's going on?” Kyana asked, pulling Haven aside, afraid she was going to explode all over Geoffrey.

“He,” Haven said, thrusting her finger into Geoff's chest, “thinks it might have just been a nightmare, that it was me who blew up the Healing Circle! Can you freaking say
denial
?”

“I'm not denying anything, lass. I'm just trying to make you see—”

“That you're a stubborn ass? No problem. I see it clearly.”

Kyana swallowed and let her gaze drift from Geoffrey's face, watched him argue with Haven without really hearing what he said. She took in Haven's face as well, then finally settled on Ryker's. All three of them were in terrible danger if Haven's dream became reality. Silas, their Witchy friend who'd become the temporary vessel for Poseidon's powers, was in danger as well. That meant every single person she cared about could lose his life because of one god's power trip.

Cronos had wanted resurrection to reclaim his old throne, and to do that, he'd have to murder his children—or, as it stood, the three men holding those children's powers now. Ryker, Silas, and Geoffrey. As the father of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades, he'd tried to kill them all at once, which had resulted in his exile and eventually his death. Now he wanted revenge on all of them, Kyana and Haven included, as they'd been both his right hand and his biggest obstacles these last few weeks.

“I was there, Geoffrey. It wasn't a dream,” Kyana said. “It was . . . different somehow. Real enough that if we could figure out where the hell we were, we'd find that man's body, as dead this time around as he was the first.”

“Bollocks.” Geoff rubbed the bridge of his nose, his temper infusing his cheeks with a blush of pink. “I'm not twat enough to think he's harmless, but that he might have come back and Ares and Ryker didn't notice? It was
their
ports you're claiming he violated. They should know if it felt different.”

Why was he being so thickheaded?

“Every port is different, Geoff,” Ryker said. “And that one belonged to Ares. If he felt anything different, he's not saying. But I agree with Ky. We can't risk everything by sitting back and hoping none of this is actually happening.”

Kyana wanted to kiss him right then and there for being on her side without question. If he had doubts, he wouldn't voice them in front of Geoffrey. He'd wait until they were alone and give her the opportunity to convince him without creating doubts in others. It was only one of the things she was so fond of about him.

She squeezed his hand in thanks.

Geoffrey cupped Haven's face, his shoulders falling a little when she pulled away. Kyana knew then why he was being so stubborn. Because if they were right, then there was a good chance something was going to happen to Haven again before he could tell her how he felt—before he could be with her the way he was dying to be. Kyana understood that fear better than he could know.

The only difference was, Kyana didn't quite know what she felt for Ryker. If she did, she certainly wouldn't wait to tell him. Not now, when their lives hung in the balance.

“Fine.” Geoffrey yanked his hood back over his head. “I'll talk to Atropos, see if any of her souls are missing. Does that suit you? If they're not . . . then we'll know your theory about his raising an army isn't valid.”

“And if they are?” Haven whispered.

He kissed her nose, and this time, she didn't pull away. “Then I'll develop a taste for crow, won't I?” He nodded at Kyana. “I'll tell Jordan you wish to see her while I'm there.”

He stepped back through the portal to Below, his black cloak billowing behind him, making him look like a fleeing wraith.

When he was gone, Ryker hailed their chariot and directed the driver to Kyana's temple. “Haven?”

“Hmm?”

“Look at me,” Ryker said.

Slowly, Haven turned her head, her eyes coated in a glassy sheen that nearly broke Kyana's heart. The longing there was so painful to see, it took all of Kyana's willpower not to take her in her arms and hold her.

“Yes?”

Ryker glanced at Kyana, his gaze apologetic. “We're going to need to know everything you learned while Cronos was possessing you. Every detail—even the ones—no,
especially
the ones you're ashamed of. ”

“Fine,” she said, looking neither of them in the eye. “As soon as Jordan has convinced you I'm not a liar, I'll tell you everything.”

I
t came as no surprise to Kyana that Jordan was able to quickly clear Haven of any lies regarding the dreams, her theories, and the explosion at the Healing Circle. And she was relieved to see Ryker didn't seem very shocked either. Haven, however, looked grateful to have the whole ordeal over with as she fell into a chair in Kyana's private sitting room and prepared to tell them everything about Cronos's possession.

As she talked, her description of the black voids of memory weren't nearly as horrific as the bits she
could
remember. The desire to kill, to feed, as the Dark Breed inside her came to be. Cronos taking advantage of that need, trying to convince her to kill her abusive father who'd beaten Haven's twin sister to death at the young age of seven.

Using Poseidon's trident against him—though she didn't remember that part, she only recalled the horrible fear that came with knowing what she'd done as she'd held the bloodied weapon in her hands afterward and prayed for someone to save her from the monster Cronos was creating in her.

All of it, she'd said, were like tiny pieces of glass pricking her brain, sometimes intense images, sometimes only a dull, blurry pain that she couldn't quite pinpoint.

Poseidon, who'd finally recovered enough to return to his domain, had been so weakened by Haven's attack that he'd been forced to place his powers in a stronger vessel—Silas. His permanent Chosen still hadn't been located, and everyone was beginning to worry that Silas's job might not be so temporary—a fact that was going drive poor, nomadic Silas insane.

“His hunger for power . . .” she continued, “it infected me. Like a disease. When I killed those Mystics . . .” Her face paled as she spoke and Kyana cringed for her, knowing the scars those actions had inflicted on her once angelic friend. “I didn't want to. I remember that. But I also knew I had to get out of there. Had to find the Eyes of Power so I could bring Cronos back. I don't remember killing them, but I remember their blood.”

“It wasn't you,” Kyana offered, wishing she could do more than deliver meaningless words to assuage the guilt she knew Haven harbored.

“No, it wasn't,” Ryker said. “But you're sure you sensed nothing of his plans once he was resurrected?”

Haven shook her head. “Only that he wanted to reclaim his throne—which meant killing those holding the powers that rightfully belonged to him.” She blinked, her face growing even paler. “Those were his thoughts, not mine. Those powers belong to you—”

“It's all right, Haven,” Ryker said, his smile revealing one of the dimples Kyana adored. “We know what you mean.” He stood, stretching his arms overhead before bringing them back down to rub his temples.

“Where are you going?” Kyana asked.

“To summon the gods. We need to speed up the siphoning process. If we're about to go to war, then our powers need to be protected in the event that some of us don't make it out alive.”

Kyana tried not to cringe at his defeated tone. To distract herself from his words, she held out her hand to Haven, who took it without hesitation, which lightened Kyana's heart. Maybe there was still something to be salvaged between them. Gods, she hoped so.

When Ryker was gone, Kyana debated whether to question Haven about another matter that had been bugging her for a while now. In the scheme of things, it was minor. But at the time, one of Haven's lies had cut Kyana pretty deeply. She might never get another chance to ask the question.

“Haven?”

“Hmm?” Haven curled herself into a ball on the couch, her eyes droopy with weariness.

Kyana reconsidered broaching the topic, but quickly found her resolve again. “Why did you tell me you grew up in Tennessee? That your father was a youth pastor there?”

Haven suddenly looked very much awake. She sat up, her gaze falling to her bent knees, and Kyana hated herself for bringing it up. Haven was already dying under a mountain of guilt, and Kyana had just supplied another boulder to help smother her.

“Never mind. I'm sorry. It . . . it doesn't matter.”

Kyana had found out the truth when Haven had gone after her father to kill him for what he'd done to her and their family in childhood. She'd been stunned that Haven would need to lie about any of it. Especially given Kyana's own background. Why hadn't Haven trusted her with the truth? That her father wasn't a pastor in Tennessee but an abusive asshole in Florida.

“You can be friends,” Haven said as Kyana turned to leave her in peace, “and not know every damned secret a person has.”

Kyana turned back, found Haven staring at her, a look of remorse, maybe even a little disgust, in her eyes.

“Who wants to admit to the world that their father was garbage? That they couldn't afford breakfast or lunch, and sometimes dinner? That their first touch from a man came from the man who gave them life? Who willingly admits to that, Kyana? He killed Hope, and thinking about him made me want to vomit every day of my life. So I created a man I could be proud of. A past that didn't bring me to tears every time it popped into my head. Is that so bad?”