Night Terrors (Hound of Hades Book 4) by Zoe Cannon

Author:Zoe Cannon [Cannon, Zoe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-04-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

I got back to the temple just as the sun was coming up. Lissa, hunched over the altar, looked up long enough to give me a tired but determined smile, then went back to chanting in a cracked and weary voice. From the look of it, she hadn’t gotten any more sleep than I had. I stopped by the bedroom to check on Kimmy, bringing a hastily-slapped-together sandwich on the off-chance that she was lucid enough to eat. But I found her curled into a tiny ball at the edge of the bed, snoring softly, her bound hands clenched tightly with tension even in sleep.

I went back to the living room and waited for Lissa to be done, too tired even to object to the divine power that pervaded the room. Besides, this was nothing compared to what I had felt at Persephone’s temple earlier. Right as I was starting to drift off on the couch, Lissa paused for breath long enough for me to update her on what I had learned. She took it all in, serious and silent. The only time she looked startled was when I asked her not to tell Hades any of this just yet. I assured her it was only temporary, until we got the whole Melinoë thing straightened out. She didn’t approve—I could tell by the way she kept looking up at me and then away, her arguments dying an untimely death at the hands of her nervousness around the Marked. But she agreed not to say anything, and that was all I needed.

I closed my bedroom door behind me, even though the hole chewed through it made the gesture purely symbolic. I collapsed onto the mattress, not even bothering to take off my shoes. But despite my bone-deep exhaustion, I didn’t expect to be able to sleep. How could I, when at this very moment Ciara was telling her goddess how she had defied her?

I had once watched a goddess punish one of her Marked for turning on her. Since then, that scene had given me enough nightmares to singlehandedly fuel Melinoë’s conquest of the city. And that wasn’t even getting into the fact that the infection was spreading more with each minute that went by. If the death count hadn’t started rising yet, it would soon.

But I fell asleep anyway. I don’t know how, but I did. I dreamed of Persephone, a Persephone in a black shirt with white paint splattered across the front, calling fanged and tentacled beasts out of their graves with an unearthly shriek and sending them chasing after a terrified Ciara.

I woke up to someone pounding on my door.

Lissa wouldn’t knock like that. That was my first confused thought as I dragged myself, groggy and dazed, out of the haze of sleep. “Kimmy,” I croaked, tripping over my feet—I had forgotten I still had shoes on—in my attempt to scramble out of bed. How had Kimmy freed herself? And why was she banging on my bedroom door?

The pounding came again.

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