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part 1
the crucible
The gods love to toy with us mere mortals.
And every hundred years…we let them.
Preface
Fuck the gods.
I got so close. So damned close to finally reaching my goal, finally seeing my curse broken, and maybe, just maybe, finally feeling the love of the one man I long for.
As I go limp on the blood-soaked ground, all I can think is, What if.
What if I hadn’t tried to tear down Zeus’ temple?
What if I hadn’t met Hades?
What if I hadn’t tried to reach for more than this world was willing to offer me…?
A tear squeezes from the corner of my eye. Then Zeus’ feet come into view directly in front of me. Probably to finish the job.
Honestly, I’d rather go fast than sit here and bleed anyway.
“Bring it, asshole.”
1
A Really Bad Idea
A sizzling zap of electricity snaps directly over Zeus’ temple, and I flinch while the crowd oohs and ahhs. People from all walks of life, cultures, and pantheons live in San Francisco, but there’s no denying this is Zeus’ patron city.
I don’t need to spare the shrine a glance to know what it looks like—pristine white stone with classic, fluted columns aglow in purplish-white flashes and sparks cast by the never-ending arcs of lightning captured above the roof.
I shake my head. He is very proud of the lightning thing—this being the only god-powered city in the world. Although if Zeus is in a pissy mood…well, it tends to affect the lights. I can only imagine how much time those who enjoy uninterrupted power must spend on their knees in that temple.
I’d rather live in the dark.
“We shouldn’t be here,” I mutter under my breath as I tick a checkbox on my tablet, then glance around the bustling crowd to try to spot one of our pickpockets moving in and out of the unsuspecting masses.
My only job tonight is to observe, which is really all I’m ever asked to do. Observe and record. But of all the piss-poor schemes my boss, Felix, has come up with over the years, this one ranks right up there with attempting to capture a pegasus to sell on the black market. That put our den on Poseidon’s shit list for years. Yes, den. The name isn’t exactly creative, but we’re thieves, not poets.
I mentally shrug. At least Felix isn’t hells-bent on trying to steal Hades’ pomegranate seeds again. Rumor has it Hades isn’t as forgiving as Poseidon.
Besides, it’s not like pledges have a choice in what jobs we do.
We were offered as collateral to work off a debt of some sort by our parents, and most thieves look forward to every job we get. Any job is one step closer to clearing the books. Not me, though. I have no debt anymore. I was so young when my family surrendered me to the Order, I don’t even remember my own birth name. But I’m twenty-three now, so that was a while ago and not something I like to dwell on.
A strobe of light illuminates the low clouds overhead a heartbeat before a loud crack sets car alarms blaring and babies crying.
This time I really jump but manage to force my gaze to remain straight ahead.
“Scared of a little lightning, Lyra?” Chance, a master thief to my left, chides. He’s acting as the drop point for all the lifts tonight but takes his attention off his job long enough to toss me a condescending smile. Asshole.
One of the older thieves in our den, he should have paid off his debt by now but hasn’t—and the fact I’m our den’s clerk and know exactly how much he still has to go pisses him off. It also makes me his favorite target.
But the best way to deal with his brand of dickhead is to ignore him.