The Darkest Lie (Lords of the Underworld #6)(71)
Author: Gena Showalter

Tears burned her eyes, but she hastily wiped them away. Only a day had passed, but she missed him terribly. And like an addict in need of a fix, she was still in Budapest, close to him. Close enough to climb the iron fence that surrounded his fortress and saunter up to the front door, knock, grab him when he opened said door and kiss him.Only reason she’d resisted was because she’d barely gathered the strength to walk away the first time. No way could she do so a second time.

Idiot. Frustration and desperation joined her other emotions. She would have tried to summon someone besides her mother for a ticket into Titania, but none of the gods, Greeks or Titans, liked her. Or if they did, she didn’t remember. Fucking Mnemosyne.

Return to Gideon, Nightmares pleaded. I’ll be good, I swear.

Her demon had experienced the five stages of grief as well, but kept returning to bargaining. You’ve always fancied him. Why? I don’t understand. You fancy no one.

He…belongs to me.

She wished. I’m no good for him. But she wanted to be. Gods, did she want to be.

He might not be her husband, she might not have any history with him, but she had come to…like him this past week. And he had come to like her. She knew he had. He’d tried to talk her into staying. He’d told her that he wanted more from her than a single bedding. And oh, gods, hearing those words had nearly crushed her resolve to leave.

But in the end, she’d known leaving was her best and only option. She’d also known she’d had to close the door on them completely. Otherwise he might have come after her. Until her mother and aunt were dead, they had to remain apart. As long as Rhea lived, Gideon was vulnerable. As long as Mnemosyne lived, Scarlet was vulnerable. Or rather, her mind was.

And if her mind was vulnerable, that meant Gideon was in danger. She could be convinced to hurt him, kill him, or even be persuaded that he was determined to hurt or kill her. She would attack him, and he didn’t deserve that.

He was a good man. A strong and gorgeous good man, and she’d caused enough turmoil in his life. But if, after her mother and aunt were dead, he still wanted to try to make a relationship work, she would be willing, she decided. However, she doubted he would want to try. There’d been frustration, desperation, anger and sadness in his eyes as she’d abandoned him. And pain. So much pain.

She’d cried as she’d exited the fortress. Cried harder as she’d slunk into this underground crypt. The moment she’d reached the bottom, she’d closed her eyes and entered dreamland. Still crying.

She’d been tempted to find Gideon. In fact, all of her strength had been needed to resist. Only thing that had saved her from doing so was, ironically enough, her aunt. Scarlet had forced herself to visit the woman and wait outside the doorway to her consciousness.

Though she’d waited and waited, the bitch had never fallen asleep, and by the end, Nightmares had been a writhing cauldron of hunger. Scarlet had then given the demon free rein, and a tormenting spree had quickly ensued, shaping the dark dreams of thousands. Including Rhea’s.

That, Scarlet had enjoyed, taking special care to present her mother with her greatest fear: losing to her husband.

Now, sleep was upon Scarlet again, and she was again waiting outside her aunt’s doorway. If she couldn’t reach Mnemosyne this time, she was going to draw Mnemosyne to her. And have a little fun in the process. That’s why she had removed the butterfly necklace Gideon had given her. So that she could be found. Soon…

She had to wait several hours, but this time Mnemosyne’s door creaked open…only to snap shut so quickly she couldn’t sneak inside. Well, well. Her aunt was fighting slumber. Soon, though, the goddess of Memory would lose. They always did.

All the while Nightmares’s hunger grew more intense, just like before.

Just a little longer, she told her companion.

The fiend whimpered inside her mind, and the shadows and screams that had been a part of her for thousands of years, so much so she hardly noticed them until Gideon aroused her to madness, intensified, too. Seeking release. Seeking a target.

I promise, she added. If she had to allow another tormenting spree, she would.

Finally, though, the wait paid off.

Mnemosyne drifted, her doorway opening halfway and allowing Scarlet to dart inside before it could close again. Which it was in the process of doing. She latched onto the sweet, shining dream even then trying to form and tugged, dragging her aunt deeper and deeper into that state of bliss. Luring her…

The dream continued, her aunt now unable to wake.

Mnemosyne saw herself on the heavenly throne, queen to gods and mortals alike. She issued orders that were instantly obeyed, and poems were composed about her beauty. Though she was mistress to Cronus in reality, Cronus wasn’t the man she truly desired. That honor belonged to the Titan god of Strength, Atlas. He was a handsome man with dark hair and eyes a darker shade of blue than Gideon’s, and he sat at her right-hand side, worshipping her.

So tranquil the scene was, so hopeful.

Scarlet wanted to scream. Her aunt didn’t deserve such accolades, even in her dreams. Not after everything she’d done. Not after the pain she had caused.

Scowling, Scarlet held out her hands and began wiping away the background. Atlas was the first to go, then the golden throne, then the palace. Thorns and fire sprouted in their place. She placed Mnemosyne in the center of those scorching flames, watching as they licked her aunt’s body, burning away her skin, her beauty.

Mnemosyne shrieked in terror, in utter agony. So real was the dream, her skin would be melting in reality. It wouldn’t kill her, Scarlet wouldn’t allow the flames to last that long, but it would horrify the bitch to see herself in the morning. To see her pretty looks gone and a revolting hag in her place. Yes, that skin would regenerate. But until it did… Scarlet laughed.

Nightmares danced inside her head, loving every moment of this. More!

“My pleasure.” With only a thought, Scarlet dismissed the blaze.

Moaning, her aunt fell to the ground, her knees too weak to hold her up. Scarlet walked to her, unhurried, rearranging the scene with every step. The plain gray walls of Tartarus formed, followed by the many cots that had filled their shared cell. Next, Cronus and Rhea appeared, arguing in a corner.

Lastly, Scarlet added herself. Bedraggled, dirty, a slave collar around her neck, and hair in tangles to her waist. When she’d reached adulthood, her mother had stopped arranging for her head to be shaved. Allowing Scarlet to be pestered by other prisoners had been more important to Rhea than being the fairest in the realm. The guards hadn’t wanted to help Scarlet, either, and getting her hands on a blade had been impossible. Cutting it had become a luxury and one of the first things she’d done upon her release.