Inspire
Inspire (The Muse #1)(64)
Author: Cora Carmack
I reach out and snag her wrist, and by the time her head whips around to me, the white is already creeping over her eyes. She sucks in a breath, and I bite down against the swirl of energy in me.
Daughter of Zeus, Eldest muse
Erebus draws near. A reunion calls.
To be made whole, all must first be lost
The eyes are on you, the eyes will come
First shall meet last on death’s breath
You will lose him to your secrets
The eyes are on you, the eyes will come
The eyes are on you, the eyes will come
The eyes are on you, the eyes will come
Her body shakes harder and harder as I hold on, her eerie gaze transfixed on mine. When I can barely hold onto her, I loosen my grip and she slumps into the doorframe. I sprint around the nearest corner, hoping to disappear before she comes back to herself. I keep going, turning a second time before I stop and settle against the wall.
I lean over, my hands on my knees, and struggle to breathe. Again and again, I repeat her words in my head until I have them committed to memory.
I don’t understand. I hadn’t expected to hear that line again … you will lose him to your secrets. I’ve already lost him, haven’t I? I’m trying to get him back.
Erebus draws near.
Erebus is the god of darkness. Could he be the one to help me? Am I supposed to find him or will he find me? Or maybe she didn’t mean the god. Erebus also just means darkness. She could mean that a dark time is coming. Hell, the darkness is already here. Or it could be that … hell. Erebus is the region in the underworld where the dead first go when they pass. Could that mean I will become mortal? Things aren’t always so linear for an oracle. They see what they see, and it doesn’t necessarily happen in order. If I became mortal, I would be far closer to the underworld than I am now. It’s also said that the furies once resided in Erebus. They guarded the entrance to Tartarus, the lower level of the netherworld reserved for those deemed worthy of punishment, even sought out offenders and brought them there to their fate. They might have even been born of the god Erebus, or just born out of erebus, out of darkness.
Gods. Now I remember why I didn’t put much stock in her prophecy in the first place. It could mean anything. A god could be coming or I could be dead or the furies could come for me.
My stomach goes icy cold.
They eyes are on you, the eyes will come.
That has to mean the Argus. He’s still watching me.
A reunion calls. Could that be about the watcher? Or worse … one of the furies? Perhaps the one who put an end to my sister’s life when she tried to resist what she was?
And now I’m back to dying. Great.
But there has to be a reason she repeated the line about the watcher so many times. That’s the sign I was hoping for. I could spend decades searching out other immortals who may or may not be able to help me. Or I could get an immortal to come to me. He’s one of the watchdogs of the greater gods. If anyone would know how to get me an audience, it would be him.
So, that’s it then. I straighten, my heart curiously calm. I push off the wall, and start back down the hallway. I’ve got to get the Watcher’s attention.
I head back to my car, contemplating the other pieces of the puzzle.
To be whole, all must first be lost.
You will lose him to your secrets.
First shall meet last on death’s breath.
Whether I understand the oracles meaning or not, one thing is abundantly clear. None of this will be easy. My future is darkness under more darkness.
I push open the glass door to head outside, feeling sluggish and afraid. Is there even a point? Everything about that prophecy points to bad things and worse things. Maybe I should let it all go?
“Kalli?”
I had my head down. I wasn’t paying attention to anything as I left Bridget’s building, and now two large, familiar hands take hold of my shoulders. The touch is a shock to my entire system. I moan. Maybe in relief or sorrow or regret.
The baseball cap is pulled off my head, and my hair tumbles down around me, and then Wilder’s face is in front of mine.
“It’s really you.”
He’s pale. His glasses sit on his nose, and behind the lenses, I see bags under his eyes. This can’t be happening. How could I be so careless?
“Where have you been? What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”
I’m crying again. I can’t even control it. His closeness burns like a cold frost against a wound.
“I can’t,” I whisper, trying to fight his hold, but his grip is tight.
“No,” he says, so close I feel his breath on my face. “You can. You just fucking left Kalli. You’ve been gone for so long, and I didn’t know what happened to you. I filed a goddamn missing persons report. I drove around day after day looking for your car. I was worried you’d gotten in a wreck. You were upset and in pain, and anything could have happened to you.”
“I couldn’t do it anymore.”
“Couldn’t do what?”
I lift my chin to meet his gaze, and the pain in his eyes makes it hard to breathe.
“This. Us. It’s dangerous for us to be around each other. Please, please let me go.”
He doesn’t let go, but he does loosen his grip a tiny bit.
“What’s dangerous? Is someone after you? Does this have something to do with all the things about your past you won’t tell me? Or your family?”
I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut. I wish it were that simple, that I could just close my eyes and make this entire situation disappear. I fist my hands in his shirt and try to push him back, but he won’t have it.
“It’s not any of that. You just have to trust me.”
“How am I supposed to trust you when you don’t tell me anything? When you left, I went to everyone who knew you. Lennox. Jack. He told me about all the time you two spent together. That you asked him not to tell me. How the hell am I supposed to trust with that hanging over my head? When you leave without a word even though you’re supposed to love me. Was any of that even real?”
Without thinking, I cry, “Yes! Of course, I love you.”
Wilder slams his lips down onto mine in answer. My mouth is hanging open in surprise, and his tongue sweeps in immediately. All the fight leaves me at the first taste of him, and even though I know somewhere in the back of my mind that I shouldn’t let this happen, that it’s cruel to give us both what might be fruitless hope, I can’t help myself.
I love him.
I love him. I love him. A thousand times, I love him.