Curses of Olympus (The Olympus Trilogy #2)

1. Medusa

1

MEDUSA

M edusa’s hip slams into a pillar, and she lets out a grunt as pain explodes from the impact. She won’t cry out. No, she won’t give them that, if she can help it.

The more she shows weakness, the more they enjoy it.

The door slams shut, leaving her alone in the confines of this new place. At least her wrists are finally unshackled, and she is free from the cage on Poseidon’s ship. remind her she is alive.

Her serpents slither and hiss in agitation, despite the hood that should be keeping them docile. The connection between them and her emotions is something Medusa hopes she can master eventually… if she ever makes it out of here.

The thick metal door is heavy and doesn’t budge no matter how much she pulls and pushes against it. The sconces illuminating the room far above her reach cast an eerie glow from the everflames. There is nothing in the barren space except for a small hot spring, and a stone slab with a mattress on it.

At first glance, one wouldn’t think they were in a cell. Perhaps that’s the point. To disarm the prisoners, lull them into complacency. That will never happen with her.

This shall not break me.

She rubs the bruise forming on her hip and tries to keep the panic from setting in as it’s becoming more and more obvious that the only way out of this room is through that door. Meanwhile, her mind works to commit the twists and turns of the hallways of the Sea Temple to memory, detailing which way to go.

Turn left at the giant painting of Poseidon with enslaved women at his feet. Another left where the hallways intersect with each other. Take an immediate right, then there are marble circular stairs on the right that wind down into the dungeons.

It should be easy enough to backtrack, but will that way be too visible? If her brief time in the temple is any indication, there are Heroes, gods, and nymphs coming and going constantly.

Medusa sags her shoulders as she looks around the small room in despair. The walls of dark blue stone are bare, cold, and uninviting.

The bed isn’t horrifically uncomfortable as she lays down, taking a moment to be thankful it is not merely a block of the same material of the walls. The more rested she is, the better she stands a chance of getting through whatever she may have to endure while she is here.

Closing her eyes, Medusa focuses on the mental connection she shares with her serpents. If she can grasp onto their threads of consciousness, maybe it will allow her to be in control of them, as opposed to her emotions.

The door opens about a foot, creaking loudly. Medusa immediately reaches for her hood, ready to end whoever is here to hurt her. An armored hand shoves a frail young woman into the room, a nymph. She holds a tray of food and a pitcher of water, and Medusa releases her grip on her hood.

“If you try anything, Viper, I have strict orders to execute the nymph,” a gruff voice calls. His face is still hidden by the door, and his fear of her is palpable in his voice. Good. “Poseidon may not care about her useless life, but he knows you do.”

Fates be damned, he has a point. Medusa looks to the nymph who trembles with fear. She drops the tray on the closest stone table, almost spilling its contents, before darting out of the room.

With a sigh, Medusa glances at the tray. The food smells divine, and she desperately needs the water, but she doesn’t trust it not to be drugged.

A n hour later, the door opens again, and the shaking nymph is once more forced into the cell with Medusa.

“Same thing. Anything funny, she dies.” The door slams shut.

Medusa flinches, warily watching the female.

The nymph with pale, bluish green skin looks to the tray and sees it’s untouched, and tears begin to well in her wide turquoise eyes.

She says something, but it’s so quiet Medusa doesn’t catch any of it.

“I’m sorry,” Medusa says. “I couldn’t hear you. Can you please speak up?”

The nymph sniffles. “He… he said that if you don’t eat your food, he will kill me, and my four sisters who also belong to him.”

“That’s absurd. You don’t ‘belong’ to anyone! Why does he want me to eat this food so badly?” Medusa asks even though she doesn’t expect the nymph to have an answer. “What’s your name?”

“Echo,” the girl mumbles.

“Why do you look so scared of me, Echo?”

“They told me that they probably wouldn’t have to kill me because you would beat them to it. They said you are heartless, and a monster.”

Medusa nearly scoffs. “And now that you’ve met me, do I really seem like a monster to you?”

Echo looks up into her eyes, really looks. “No.”

“Echo?”

“Yeah?”

“Is the food poisoned?”

Her teal cheeks flush pink, and she drops her gaze. “It won’t kill you. It’s just to make you sleep for a little while.”

A fist bangs against the door, and the same guard from earlier calls, “I’m coming back in there in ten minutes. I sure hope that plate is empty.”

Medusa picks up the bread and dips it into the stew. Instinct roars inside her as she braces herself and takes a bite.

It is delicious, but it doesn’t mask the taste of poppy. She quickly clears the plate and lies down.

The door opens, and Echo hurries out with the empty tray. Medusa’s eyelids grow heavy. Fear claws at her chest. What is she going to wake up to? Her thoughts race between images of people touching her, hurting her, but it’s not enough to keep her from being pulled under by the flower’s toxins.

Suddenly, her eyes blink open. She’s groggy from the drugs and tries to recognize her surroundings. Her senses are dulled, but she can feel sand beneath her fingers. It can’t be…

“Medusa?”

She jolts up and turns around. Sitting in the sand, glowing in the soft lights of the Oasis, is Psyche.

“How is this happening?” Medusa asks in surprise. She wants to embrace Psyche but hesitates. Is this a dream? Did the poppy induce vivid hallucinations in her sleep?

Psyche looks at her hands and then to Medusa. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a connection in the Oasis with someone who wasn’t present with me,” she admits.

“Are you real? I don’t think I could bear it if you weren’t.”

Psyche throws her arms around Medusa. “I’m real. This is real.”

Medusa kisses her deeply. The feeling is muted because of the Oasis but even so, it’s almost enough to make Medusa forget where she is in reality.

Psyche peppers Medusa’s face with small kisses. “Are you alright? Has he hurt you?” she asks, voice tinged with worry.

Medusa tucks a loose strand of Psyche’s raven locks behind her ear. “I’m fine, so far. I don’t intend to be here long. I’m going to find a way out.”

Psyche abruptly pulls back. “No. You’re just going to get yourself killed. Please, say you’ll wait for us. Cadmus and I are coming for you.”

“Cadmus?” Medusa shakes her head. “Why would he care enough to risk coming for me?”

“My love,” Psyche says, gently running her hand up and down Medusa’s arm, softly caressing it. “Do you really think he doesn’t see the universe in your eyes the way I do? Do you think he hasn’t been anxiously pacing, breaking things in frustration, missing you?”

“I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what that means for us.”

Psyche opens her mouth to answer, but the Oasis is violently ripped away from Medusa as she comes crashing back to reality. She chokes and sputters from water poured on her as she regains consciousness and realizes she is strapped to a table.