Apathy's Hero: A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy (Truth's Harem Book 3) Read online

  They hit the dragon in the throat, and lightning crackled along its scales everywhere the line rested. It screamed, louder than the alarm, and reared.

  It was working.

  The beast shimmered, and the line went slack, cutting in half when the beast’s neck faded, then reappeared.

  Well, fuck.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The scenery hadn’t changed since Actaeon was here yesterday. Once they cleared the heavy cloud of dust that separated whatever Lexi had created from the rest of the underworld, the ground was cracked and the air was still.

  He had the backpack slung over his shoulder, and she walked next to him as they headed toward the river.

  “How do you know this is the right way?” she asked.

  “It’s the way I came in.”

  “Did you pass Cerberus along the way?”

  “No. If he were down here, Hermes would have found him, the way he did me.” Actaeon didn’t know if that was true. Technically, Hermes found people who were waiting to get in, not who were already here. But walking around, sniffing the air for a single hellhound’s scent, wouldn’t get them anywhere.

  She kicked a loose pebble, and it skittered to a stop ahead of them. “You don’t believe that.”

  “Can you sense him?”

  “No.” Her pout was evident in her voice. “That doesn’t mean he’s not here. It could mean he’s really badly hurt.”

  “And he’d heal, if that were the case. This is his element. You’re his goddess. He’s going to be strongest here.”

  “Wait. What?” Lexi grabbed his arm as she stopped, spinning him to face her. “I’m his what?”

  Actaeon wanted to have this conversation anyway. Why would he rather face another chimera than explain this to Lexi?

  Simple—if she didn’t take it well, her reaction would destroy his attempts to convince himself this would be easy. “You’re his goddess.”

  He repeated what Charon said, about Hades and the underworld, and Lexi’s becoming more.

  “Oh. Okay.” She shrugged and started walking again.

  Easy was good. This was ridiculous. Nothing came without a trial. Perhaps the challenge here was accepting the ease of the situation?

  He stared at her back, then quickened his pace to catch up. “Just like that? Did you hear what I said—”

  “Goddess. One with death. Blah, blah, blah.” She waved a hand dismissively. “I made an entire town because I wanted to, and people who’ve been lost for seventy years or more are occupying it. Your explanation makes more sense than just because.”

  “All right.” Actaeon wasn’t going to argue.

  In the distance, thunder rumbled. Had she installed some kind of weather pattern outside of her pocket town, or was that instability in their environment?

  “Tell me the truth about Cerberus,” she said.

  When Actaeon dated Cassandra, watching her suffer through visions of the future was painful. He hated to see her suffer.

  He was still undecided on how it felt to be with a human lie-detector.

  He wasn’t going to make a joke about her being like a dog with a bone. Puppy jokes pissed her off on good days. “I don’t know where he is. I’m not here to help you find him. I’m here to make sure this transition doesn’t drive you insane. Charon understands it better than I do. He saw Hades go through it. We’re going to talk to him. Then, you can look for Cerberus.”

  “I see.” Her voice was tight. “You decided this. You neglected to tell me. You didn’t think I’d have an opinion on the matter?”

  Fuck. “We’re questing, right? Think of me as your guide.”

  “Are you the guide who actually knows where we’re going, or the one who speaks in cryptic riddles and then vanishes and reappears when it’s convenient to the plot?”

  Lightening split the sky, lighting up the clouds. It was far enough off they wouldn’t run into it. The show was as pretty as it was worrisome, since Lexi may be responsible for it and not realize what she was doing. “I’m the guide who knows where I came from and would like to make sure that’s where everyone ends up.”

  “Hmm... Anti-trope. I like it.” There was an undercurrent in her tone that implied this wasn’t the end of the conversation.

  She tugged her canteen strap higher on her shoulder, never breaking stride.

  He wasn’t going to fall into the trap of over-explaining himself because she was silent.

  They passed a patch of withering trees he recognized as about the halfway mark. They were making good time. He swore this took longer before. Being unfamiliar with the terrain could have that effect, though.

  “What’s Icarus to you?” Lexi asked.

  Random. “We’re old friends. I’ve told you that. He’s told you that.” A memory nudged his thoughts. Lexi waking him up, smelling of sex. Icarus’ scent mingling with hers. It seemed like ages ago. It was probably only a day. “What’s he to you?” he asked.

  “Promise you won’t get mad?”

  “No. It matters to me, but I trust that you’re following your heart. You don’t owe me an answer right now, but if you’re not comfortable telling me yet, I hope we reach a point where you are.” There was more to the gnawing in his chest, but he couldn’t name it.

  “I’ve convinced myself it’s my choice.” Lexi sighed. “That came out weird. You know this whole fated mates thing that Cerberus is so enamored with?”

  “That I didn’t hear you complaining about, after you moved past the initial shock.” His mind stalled, and he backed it up. There were a few reasons she might bring that up, but one key one he could think of. “Icarus made the list?” That pang was jealousy. Why? He and Lexi had something good.

  “You don’t have anything. You might, someday, but right now? It’s lust.” Icarus’ argument was loud and clear in Actaeon’s thoughts.

  Lexi fiddled with the strap of her canteen. “I don’t like the sound of a list. It’s not as though I sat down and wrote out these are the guys I’m crushing on. Though, if I had... you’d all be on there.”

  That was reassuring. “Which is why it doesn’t matter that it’s fate.” He could be the bigger man about this. He genuinely liked seeing her happy. She sparked when she was with Icarus. It wasn’t her reaction he was hung up on. Slivers from an older past wormed their way in. “I’m not mad,” he said.

  “I hoped you’d get it. I couldn’t have made it this far without you and your perspective.” She grasped his hand.

  “I could say the same about you.” Was he getting giddy because they were walking and holding hands? Love was passion and heat and clawing, and sometimes tears. It wasn’t a flutter because she chose to tangle her fingers with his.

  A raindrop struck him on the nose, and another on the cheek, then a trickle fell around them. The air stayed warm and comfortable. He didn’t remember this plane having a lot of weather, though.

  Lexi turned her face toward the sky, slowing but not stopping. “I love the rain.” She glanced at him. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

  “I did, and you already had the answer.”

  “Is that all he’s ever been?”

  Actaeon stuck on the way she phrased her question. It wasn’t subtle, and her tone implied she had assumptions about the answer. “No,” he said.

  “So... fuck buddies? Sweethearts who decided you made better friends than lovers? The guy you jerked off with in the hot tub, but you never talk about it, because what would the neighbors think?”

  “All of the above?” Actaeon wasn’t in the mood to unpack that part of his past. The rain had dripped into the top of his boots and made his socks wet. His feet wouldn’t blister from this, but it was uncomfortable.

  Or he was looking for excuses.

  “Why does it matter?” he asked.

  Lexi stepped off the path, toward a large rock under a tree. The light drizzle tapped out a steady rhythm against the leaves, but it no longer reached them. She leaned against the trunk, one foot propped up beh
ind her, and studied him. “Why do you think it matters? I’m grateful that you’re open about who I may or may not fall in love with, but if the two of you have baggage... I’d like to think what I share with you is going to last beyond my father fucking with my life. Which apparently he can even do from beyond the grave. Probably a good thing death only had the one child.”

  “Now, who’s getting distracted?” Actaeon tried to sound playful, but he had to force the words through a jumble of thoughts focused on Icarus. The last argument they had. The one they had last time they broke up. Funny how so many of those memories tied back to disagreements.

  Her smile was flat. “I’m getting to my point. If our relationship—yours and mine—is more than an adrenaline-rush-fueled fuck fest, I’d like to know where you stand with him.”

  The skies opened up and unleashed what they’d held back. Rain slammed into the earth around them, hammering a deafening one-note song. It didn’t reach them under the tree, though.

  He didn’t like her doubt. That it echoed portions of Icarus’ accusations. That it chimed in with notions Actaeon tried to ignore. “Do you think we’ll last that long? You’re not considering this whole fate thing in your equation. That’s not who you are.”

  “I don’t know.” Lexi didn’t meet his gaze.

  “Do you think you will, with him?” Actaeon didn’t want her answer. It whispered in his ears before she moved her lips.

  “Yes.”

  That hurt. It shouldn’t. Hadn’t Actaeon proven himself? “You’ve only known him for a few days.”

  “I haven’t known you much longer.”

  “He and I dated a few times.” He could tell her the truth. She’d learn it anyway, and none of it was a secret. “One of those off-again, on-again things over the centuries. We fight, we fall apart, we come together as friends, sometimes it grows back into more, and others we drift apart again before that happens.”

  “That’s why you didn’t know if he’d see you at the funeral.”

  Actaeon shook his head. “No. We haven’t been together for more than a century. We finally admitted it was a bad idea.” Any residual desire was lust-driven. There was no love or romance there. Talking about it reminded him of that simple truth.

  If he said it aloud, would Lexi call him a liar?

  And why did it scrape his insides raw that Lexi and Icarus had this connection?

  Because you can’t form that with either of them.

  But he would. He and Lexi would get there.

  “Hmm... Wouldn’t have guessed that. Obviously.” She kicked away from the tree, and an umbrella appeared in her hand. She flicked her thumb over a black button. The handle telescoped, and the umbrella sprang into shape. “Thank you for telling me.”

  What was he supposed to say to that? Sure? No problem? Anytime? “Yeah. You ready to get going?”

  She nodded and headed away from the path, at a ninety degree angle to the direction they’d been traveling.

  Actaeon grabbed her arm and yanked her to a stop. “We need to follow the path.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s the way to Charon and Styx. We talked about this.” There was more of an edge to his voice than he wanted, but digging up the past dragged like sandpaper over his emotions.

  She looked at him, expression dark. “You decided it. You didn’t ask my opinion.”

  “It’s the way out.” He wasn’t in the mood to repeat himself.

  We fight. We fuck. You save my ass. Her earlier words came back to haunt him. He shook them aside.

  “You want us on the path? Fine.” A stone walkway appeared beneath their feet, replacing the dirt and dried grass. “We’re not leaving without Cerberus.”

  “And I told you he’s not down here. We can’t keep playing this stupid fucking game.” He tried to rein in his irritation, but she was pushing the wrong buttons. “This isn’t a quest. We’re not stuck in one of your stepfather’s stupid fantasies. This isn’t a book or a fairy tale. We don’t go looking for trouble. In those rare instances when life gives you a direct route out, you take it.”

  Thunder cracked loudly enough to rattle him, and lightning lit up and split the sky in half.

  Lexi stared at him, the storm reflecting in her eyes. “That’s not the right direction.” She spoke through clenched teeth.

  “You’re being a child, Alexandra.” He winced the instant her full name passed his lips.

  Her mouth twisted into a dark, wicked smile. “And you’re being an indifferent, apathetic asshole. I’m tired of being the maiden stuck in a tower, waiting to be rescued. If that’s what you’re looking for, go fall in love with someone else. I get an equal say in things, and I want to find Cerberus.”

  “How is this not you throwing a tantrum?”

  Another clap of thunder boomed. The scent of sulfur mingled with rain. And then another roar.

  This wasn’t thunder. It was a beast. The crack of wings rent the air.

  A dragon landed behind Lexi, wings stretched wide enough to block large portions of the sky, and jaw snapping in the storm. The rain glittered off the green and blue scales along its back, and its tail wrapped around its clawed feet when it settled.

  Lexi turned and stumbled back into Actaeon. “Fuck me. Dragons are real?” she asked.

  As real as stair trolls. As in, not the last time Actaeon checked.

  The beast roared, and flame erupted from its mouth, turning a nearby tree to ash.

  That was very real. Creation, this was bad.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Hide. Now.” Actaeon summoned his bow as he barked the order at Lexi.

  “Did you hear a word I said?” She really wanted to continue this argument, with a house-sized, fire-breathing dragon a short distance away?

  “I heard every single one of them.” Actaeon spoke through clenched teeth. “Now’s not the time.”

  He notched an arrow and drew back the string. He wouldn’t have many shots. Where was most likely to be vulnerable, and could he hit that spot?

  “Whoa.” The dragon vanished, and glittering sparks showered to the ground around Morpheus. “I don’t think I’ll survive one of those arrows.”

  Actaeon wasn’t in the mood for this. The last time he saw the god of sleep was in his dreams, and Morpheus was masquerading as Lexi. “Let’s find out, shall we?” He didn’t lower his weapon.

  “I know where your gatekeeper is.” A tremor ran through Morpheus’ voice. He looked at Lexi, but every few seconds, he flicked his gaze at Actaeon.

  She gasped. “Cerberus?”

  “Yes. And we’ve never been introduced. I’m Morpheus. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Though it’s always a little awkward, meeting someone whose skin I’ve worn.”

  Lexi gave a half-smile, half-grimace. “Someone dreams about me?”

  “Multiple people dream about you.” Morpheus gave Actaeon a knowing glance.

  Tension quivered in Actaeon’s arms. “Speaking of—you can’t take other shapes unless we’re dreaming. Where are we sleeping?”

  “You’re not.” Morpheus spared him a glare. “Please, don’t shoot me.”

  “Stand down, boy,” Lexi said.

  No wonder she didn’t like the puppy jokes with Cerberus. That was fucking irritating. Actaeon growled and let his bow vanish. “Talk.”

  “You’re both awake, but not all of the new goddess is. Part of her is asleep someplace else. It gets a little convoluted from here, but this place is taking the shape of her mind. I can manifest as her deepest dreams, and the dragon was one of them. She’s broadcasting dreams, thoughts, and a variety of mystical signals, on every frequency I’m familiar with.”

  “You want to be attacked by a dragon?” Actaeon stared at her in disbelief.

  She cast her gaze at her shoes. “No.”

  “She wants you put in your place,” Morpheus said. “I don’t blame her, so I thought I’d have a little fun greeting the mistress of the realm.”

  “And Cerberus is here?�
�� Lexi approached Morpheus. “I’m sleeping? Where?”

  “He’s deep inside Tartarus. I can’t get to him, or I would have brought him to you. I don’t know where you are, but he’s trapped in the dream with you, and I can hear it. It’s like someone left the TV on too loud and lost the remote, and I’d like you to stop. The sooner the better.”

  “You wanted to sic a dragon on me?” Actaeon didn’t care for being ignored.

  Lexi turned to face him. “I wanted something that would make you listen to me. I was also disappointed that out of all the things I’ve been able to create here, a dragon wasn’t on the list. I didn’t ever think, I need a dragon to attack Actaeon.”

  Behind her, Morpheus shrugged. “Your subconscious did.”

  “You’re not helping.” Lexi shot him a glare.

  “I don’t have to. Unlike the gatekeeper, I’m not your servant. I’m a god as well—one who happens to inhabit your realm. I’m only here to get the dreams toned down and so you don’t rip apart my home with your tantrums.”

  A hint of Actaeon’s smugness slipped out.

  Lexi clenched her fists, and her chest rose and fell. She looked between Actaeon and Morpheus. “Hi. New to being a goddess. I found out by having my soul ripped into pieces and part of me being shaped as a holding spot for all of the dead. You would have dealt with it better? You”—she fixed her attention on Actaeon—“destroyed half of Las Vegas because someone killed a woman you don’t even love anymore. And you knew what you were capable of before you started. On a relative scale, I think I’m coping pretty well.”

  He refused to concede her point, regardless of how true it was. “How do we get to Cerberus?

  “I can take you to the edge of Tartarus,” Morpheus said. “I can’t bring you further, or I’d plant him at your feet right now. That realm keeps me out.”

  “But we can get in?” Lexi sounded doubtful.

  Actaeon knew the answer. He’d looked everywhere for Cassandra after she died. “I can. And you’re a force of will, so I assume no place is going to keep you away from Cerberus.”