Something was off.
Different.
Ambrose could feel it from where he stood in front of Mari, could see it in Ceto’s eyes. She still held herself with her usual ease, still smiled with that never-ending sneer, but there was something different about her eyes.
That didn’t stop him from feeling a fear like nothing he had ever known, though. Mari was behind him, but he could feel her trying to look at Ceto.
The minor goddess sauntered forward, hips swaying like they were their own wave. Her black nails tapped on her chin rhythmically as she eyed them, tilting her head to the side.
Black locks slid to the side, drawing a curtain over her shoulder. Wisps of it brushed against her neck.
It wasn’t the hair that kept his gaze on her neck. Bruises so deep they were black surrounded her throat, the imprint of fingers leaving an image in his mind that spoke more than her eyes did.
He narrowed them on her, feeling like something was shifting under the water. Ceto had been harmed enough that her wounds were not fully gone, and yet, here she was. Eying them like the hunter that had just caught her pray.
“That was so heartfelt,” she said with a mocking pout, coming closer until she was only a couple of feet away from them. “Really; it was so warm and sweet. I almost cried for you two—until you started talking about me.”
Ceto peered over Ambrose’s shoulder, a perfectly plucked eye brow arching delicately. “Is this your woman?”
Her voice was so kind that if Ambrose hadn’t known her, hadn’t heard that tone before, he would have thought she was earnestly curious.
Ceto was never curious. If she was interested in something, she found, controlled, and learned about it with the tenaciousness of a rabid shark. As he stared at her narrowly, he could only conclude one thing.
She wasn’t alone.
Her eyes flickered throughout the room as if searching for something, and she never looked at them for more than she had to.
“No answer?” she asked sweetly, circling them. Ambrose spread his arms out, crouching, keeping himself facing her the entire time while caging Mari behind him.
Where was Deimos? The other men? The training room was hardly left empty—soon enough, someone should show up.
Sweet Atlantis, this couldn’t have happened at a better time, he thought. Everyone was preoccupied with readying for the dual and Deimos was out searching for Ceto.
Lost cause now, he thought darkly, willing the akrina to stay hidden as it came to him, already forming a blade. His hands flexed as the invisible material brushed against his hand, fingers wrapping around the handle loosely. He kept his hands as far back as he could, chest forward, hiding his hands while surrounding Mari.
“Well, she’s quite the lovely little thing,” Ceto murmured, flipping her eyes to Ambrose’s. He almost shuddered as her golden pupils bore into his, but forced himself not to. Just like he was forcing himself to hold back from attacking her.
He had to wait. Deimos was going to come—he had to—and then Mari would be covered while Ambrose took care of the psychotic bitch in front of them.
“And…where is her pet?”
He felt Mari tense the same time he did.
“What pet?” he growled, fist tightening around the blade.
“Deimos, I believe. Where is he at?”
Mari’s tail beat against his, panicked breath fanning over his back. “How does she know about him?”
He didn’t answer her.
“Why does that matter? Ceto, what are you doing here?” She was there to kill them. He knew the answer, but if he could stall her long enough that Deimos showed up…
She laughed delightedly, clapping her hands like he was some adorable kid. “Oh, you know! I’ve come to take you back, Ambrose.” She gestured toward him with a bent finger.
Disgust rolled through him. “Do that again and I’ll rip your hand off,” he snarled. Mari touched his shoulder lightly.
That one small contact had a world of emotions flooding him. Panic for Mari, terror for Mari, desperation for Mari. Every emotion he felt over the last week came crashing down on his shoulders in one second.
Rage began to cloud his vision as Ceto’s sharp eyes narrowed. “Either you come with me, or the bitch dies,” she threatened, voice lowering an octave. Her body coiled like a serpent would when it prepared to strike.
“And when he goes with you?” Mari asked.
He looked sharply over his shoulder at her. “Don’t—“
“I’m serious, Ambrose,” she murmured, touching his arm. Her eyes flashed red the second her hand made contact with his skin, and he lost all sensation. Slowly, the life left his limbs. Muscles became lax and the world began to slow.
He stared at her with dawning horror, her face losing all expression, a dispassionate mask.
All it took was one second. Ambrose floated to the floor of the training ground, completely senseless and unable to do anything about it.
Being helpless is serene. You watch, unable to do anything, as the world begins to fall around you. You can’t move, can’t say no. Ambrose had been helpless with Ceto, but now he was free. He should be able to fight back, to protect Mari—except she had somehow stripped his will to move away.
Ambrose felt a terror he had never known before in his life as Mari began to transform, the golden scales flipping like sides of a coin to reveal a black sheath. As the change progressed, black light began to surround Mari.
Ceto backed away, deep lines of horror etching into every inch of her face. Any other time, he would have reveled in such a sight—but not now. Not with Mari’s life on the line.
Besides Ambrose and the other gods, Ceto was the oldest, strongest minor god of their time. Mari had no control over her powers—he doubted she even knew she had them.
Ambrose tried to speak, tried to say something to make her look at him. This couldn’t happen! Not when Ambrose was incapable of saving her—
Mari snarled low in her throat, and a sense of déjà vu shook him.
“Tell me what you would do to him,” Mari demanded, the voice that spoke deeper and more guttural than before. Ambrose shuddered through his fear and watched helplessly as Mari slowed all movement until she was poised in front of Ceto. Her hair flowed behind her serenely, blonde tresses moving like a wave.
“I—He would be dead—“
Mari smiled.
It was sickening. Sharp white teeth flashed and her eyes danced with what Ambrose could only describe as death.
“Wrong answer, bitch.”
Mari knew what she was doing the whole entire time. Unlike last time, she could control what she did and could stop when she wanted. But the thing was, she didn’t want to. As Ceto’s eyes widened and alarm flashed in them, Mari was jacked up—and knew that if she let Ambrose go, he would stop her.
Which was why she let the mean part of her keep Ambrose still. There was no doubt in her mind that she could kill Ceto with a flick of her wrist. Because of her time in Atlantis, she knew the difference between minor and major.
Ceto was minor, and Mari was major.
And that little bitch was going to die.
Mari wasn’t one for violence—at least not always. But as she surged forward and wrapped her hand around Ceto’s thin neck, she felt the adrenaline coursing through her and understood why fights were so appealing.
“I swear to god, this is the last thing you’re going to do—ever come near him again, if I let you live, and you’re going to regret showing our face.”
Ceto was too stunned to react and Mari took the opportunity, lifting her elbow and then yanking down on Ceto’s head, jamming her throat into Mari’s raised arm.
Living with her brothers had taught her a lot; like how to do as much damage as possible to assert dominance. Mari was the only female besides her mother, and that invited too much teasing. Now she was calling on those old skills and she didn’t plan on stopping until the bitch-goddess learned her lesson.
Ceto choked, coughing. Mari tightened her hand in the black hair when she tried to pull away, brought up her bent tail, and then slammed Ceto’s face onto the scales, digging her face against Mari.
Mari felt a sharp pain at her backside and gasped. Ceto had dug her claws into Mari’s back and was ripping the skin away. Ragged breathes escaped her throat as Mari began to feel the shimmer of pure rage surround the minor goddess.
A feral snarl burst from Mari’s chest as the pain receded into a dull roar, replaced by fury. “I’m going to skin you alive!” she shouted, heat beginning to build under her palms.
Mari was too pissed to notice. The heat built into a blinding light, and instinct told her to beat Ceto into the ground—which was exactly what she did, but not before the akrina buzzed in front of her, passing through her hands.
She felt the cold brush of metal against the inside of her wrist before she lashed out, switching the blade and lashing out at Ceto. “All of the times you hurt him?”
The blade sliced through Ceto’s arm. “I’ll make you feel it a hundred times worse.”
Ambrose made a sound from behind her, but she ignored it. Ceto stared at her, then at the blood that was beginning to leak from her arm.
Mari threw the blade aside, her wrath so intense that she wanted to feel every hit, wanted to feel every single crunch of bone. The goddess shrank away from her, face paling, as Mari stalked forward.
“You wanted to come here? To take him from me? Take him from the throne that you stole from him? You’re a fucking bitch,” she snarled, throwing herself at Ceto and wrapping her fist in black hair. Ceto grunted, unleashing the claws.
Mari saw them from the corner of her eye, barely registering that Ceto was only making minimal attempts at fighting back. If Mari had been in her right mind, she would have realized something was wrong sooner, she would have caught onto what Ambrose was desperately trying to make her see.
But she didn’t.
She beat Ceto with her tail, shoving her back while keeping a hold on her hair. As her head stayed in place and her body went another way, a low vibration started to course through the water.
Mari balled up her fist.
“Selfish fucking—“
Something latched onto her first.
And it wasn’t Ceto.
As Mari stared at the goddess, who was straightening her back and pushing her hair behind her ear like nothing had happened, a gleam entered the golden eyes.
“Austrux,” Ceto murmured, bowing her head.
“You kept her entertained, I see.”
Holy—what the fuck. Its voice. Terror slid down her spine, a chill overcoming her as Mari tried to turn her head. The grip tightened around her fist and a gasp of pain escaped her throat.
“I would prefer that you not look at me,” it hissed in her ear, wrenching her arm behind her back. Pain flashed through Mari as Ambrose began to growl.
She tried releasing the hold she had on him, but whatever the creature was behind her was scaring her so badly that she couldn’t. Fear, hot and choking, clogged her throat until she could barely breathe.
Deimos. Where was Deimos? Why couldn’t she free Ambrose? She forced another wave of energy through her body, following her instincts, but nothing happened. Ambrose jerked in the corner of her eye—
The creature. He was keeping Ambrose paralyzed.
“Let me go!” She tried clawing at the hand that held her back, but he only twisted her arm harder. Mari cried out as pain shot through her arm, attacking her shoulder.
“Not so confident now, are you, you little slut?” Ceto laughed in her face, reaching out and trailing her hand down Mari’s face. She saw the flash of Ceto’s claw before it sliced across her cheek.
“I could have easily killed you. The gods are only playing with you. Don’t you know that? Austrux explained it all to me,” she whispered smugly, gliding around Mari. The thing behind her growled. “Care to explain it to her, Austrux?” Golden eyes flipped above Mari’s head.
She saw the shimmer of fear in Ceto’s gaze.
Mari heard a loud thump from behind her, then Ambrose skidded into her view. His body was tense, like he was fighting off pain. Fear implanted itself in her heart, the roots digging in so deep that she was shaking.
He had to come out of it.
Deimos. Where was he?
“You’re nothing but a mortal turned to bait,” the creature snarled in her ear. It sent a shiver of fear down her back, heightening her senses to the near point of pain. God, the way the voice scratched along her ear…
“That tail you have? Means nothing to me. Or them. Or anyone else in Atlantis—and do you know why?” A long, red finger came into her view and she shrunk away from it even as her arm began to throb.
He pulled on her arm and she screamed as white light flashed behind her eyes. “No,” she choked out. As the light began to fade, her throat clogged. Ambrose was staring at her as if she were already dead, his body completely still, eyes not even blinking—as if he were being forced to watch.
Her heart hammered in her chest. She tried calling on whatever had taken over her, on the energy that she could feel pulsing inside of her, but it was like someone had put up a dam, blocking the flow completely.
She grunted with frustration, then shuddered. The finger trailed down her cheek, to her throat. “Why, you poor girl. It doesn’t matter because I’m going to kill you. You have something I want.”
The scratchy, gravelly voice scraped over her neck and ear, disgust rolling through her. “I don’t know what I could possibly—“
“Let me finish,” he snarled, cutting her off by ripping her arm back. Pain exploded behind her eyes once more as the bone literally popped, right in her ear. Mari screamed, unable to stop as the agony ripped through her.
She barely heard the snarl that ripped through the water. Ceto smiled at her sweetly, as if the sound of Mari’s screaming was just what she wanted to hear. Fury mixed with the pain as Mari thought of what she wanted to do to Ceto right then—and the thing behind her.
“Ambrose,” she choked out. “Close your eyes. Just stop—“
“Shut the fuck up! You have him, and I want him. Where is he?”
“Who?” she cried out. “I don’t know who you’re talking about!”
“Deimos,” the thing growled. Mari froze.
“You know where he is, don’t you?” Ceto narrowed her eyes on Mari, who, even as she was panting for breath, refused to speak. What the hell could they want with Deimos? He had been sent to them from the gods—and the people in the room were not gods. At least not the ones that had sent Deimos.
“Talk. If you don’t, your dear little Ambrose is going to watch every single limb be ripped from your body. I’ll devour every piece. I’ve always wanted to try some Atlantean god before,” it mused, that red finger tapping against the beating pulse at her throat.
She still refused to talk. Suddenly, she really didn’t want Deimos to show up, even if it meant saving her and Ambrose. He was an innocent in this—she didn’t know how she knew; she just did. Deimos would be furious—
The doors of the silver room burst open.
A split second later, an enraged roar echoed throughout the room. The sound sent a spine-chilling sensation down her back, like cold fingers dragging across a chalkboard.
Everything happened at once.
Mari was thrown away from the creature, Ambrose lunged at the monster, and Deimos shot into the room like a bull on steroids.
Ceto, though… She stayed back. As Mari fought to stay conscious, she focused on Ceto—and the bitch noticed.
The fight was dim in the back of her mind as Ceto swayed her way towards Mari. No one noticed—not Ambrose, not Deimos, and not the creature they were currently failing at killing.
“I have a theory,” she whispered, bending down to the panting Mari. Her arm was on fire and tears burned her eyes. Ceto half-smiled. “I bet the second you leave the water, the gods’ powers will be void.”
Blind terror struck Mari.
“Why don’t we test this theory? This god-like state of yours was only for adjusting into the oceanic life…it wasn’t permanent. Austrux showed me several cases where this has happened before. The gods kept it hidden, though. Too scared their precious throne would be stolen by some jealous dick who has temporary god powers while they are adjusting.
“But I’ve really been thinking about this.” Her eyes ran down Mari’s body with faint disgust. “You leave Atlantis, Ambrose is here for me, and Austrux get’s Deimos…It’s a win-win. Ready to try this out, baby girl?”
Mischief played in her eyes as energy began to build around them. Mari tried to do something, to move, but her arm prevented her from moving. Darkness ebbed it’s way into her vision and the world began to slow.
All she could see was Ceto…then everything.
Ambrose, Deimos, and the hulking red creature all stopping as Ceto began to laugh hysterically. All three of them moved at once, Ambrose’s face one of the last things she saw.
The pain. The desperation. The complete and ultimate sense of loss that darkened his face.
Mari was blinded by darkness.
The last thing she heard was the tortured sound of a man’s heart being ripped from his chest.