Goddess Interrupted
Page 55
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I heard my mother speaking quietly on the other side of the door, but when I stepped out of the bathroom, she immediately fell silent. “What?” I said, and she shook her head.
“Nothing, sweetheart. I’ll see you in a bit.” I would’ve had to be blind to miss the exasperated look she gave Henry, but I said nothing as he led me out of the room and into the hallway.
“Are you feeling all right?” he said, clasping his hands behind his back. Gathering what determination I had left, I slipped my hand into his arm and refused to let go when he tensed. One day he wouldn’t, and until then, he had to get used to me being there.
“I’ve had better months,” I said, a weak attempt at a joke.
He didn’t smile. “Did Theo heal you?”
He nodded. “I fetched the others a short while ago. I will send Theo to our room once Walter has f inished with you.”
That sounded ominous. “Is he mad?”
“No,” said Henry. “He is not.”
Something was still off, and I hugged his arm, pleased when he didn’t move away. “Are you?”
This time his face remained blank. Of course he was angry. If what my mother had said was true, then he’d spent six months f ighting like hell to keep me safe, and on top of failing when it’d mattered the most, I’d run after a Titan less than a day after arriving in the Underworld. Not exactly the smartest thing I’d ever done, but I hadn’t had a choice. Surely Henry understood that.
“I won’t say I’m sorry,” I said. “Not for going after you and my mother. But I am sorry for scaring you, and I’m sorry for not listening to James and staying out of the cavern.”
He unclasped his hands and took mine. He didn’t hold on tightly, but it was more than I expected, and hope f luttered inside of me. “Do not apologize,” he said. “I am aware we left you and the others with no choice. I am the one who should apologize for having put you in that situation to begin with.”
So he was blaming himself. Somehow that didn’t feel much better than him blaming me. “It wasn’t your fault though. You had no idea what Calliope and Cronus were planning, and you did your best with what you had.”
“Yes,” he said softly, “I suppose we did. That makes what Walter and I are about to ask of you even more foolish.” We stopped in front of a nondescript door, and I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Henry let go of my hand to set his on the doorknob, but he didn’t turn it yet. “I will be with you the entire time,” he said. “Nothing will happen to you.”
My heart f luttered, and I racked my brain for what he and Walter might want me to do that would scare Henry like this. Of course nothing would happen to me. Unless Cronus was inside.
As he opened the door, I realized what he meant, and all the tension that had left me earlier f looded back. I stopped cold, and he draped his arm around my shoulders protectively.
With her face bloodied and marked by the chain I’d used against her, Calliope stared at me, her eyes narrowed and unblinking.
She was awake.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IN T ER ROGATION
The burning hatred in Calliope’s eyes made every bone in my body freeze in place, as if she’d turned me to stone. I wasn’t afraid of her, not really, but anyone with an ounce of self-preservation would have stopped short when facing that kind of loathing.
Walter stood beside her, his hands on her shoulders, but it didn’t look like a protective gesture. She sat in a chair made of steel, and shimmering bands around her wrists and ankles held her in place. In the corner, Phillip silently faced her with his arms crossed over his broad chest, and there was a deep silver scar running through his left eye. It had turned milky-white.
“Kate,” said Walter with a nod.
“Hi,” I said, wishing my voice wasn’t shaking so much.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m afraid we had no choice.” He tightened his grip on Calliope’s shoulders, and her jaw clenched. “It seems Calliope refuses to talk to anyone but you.”
My heart sank. I glanced at Henry to conf irm it, and he nodded stiff ly. “That—that’s f ine,” I said, even though it was anything but, and I took a deep breath to steady myself.
Obviously this was important. “Whatever you need.” A cushioned chair appeared a few feet in front of Calliope, and Henry let go of me so I could sit down. I f idgeted, certain that if it were in Calliope’s power, she would have made me burst into f lames right then and there.
“All right, Calliope,” said Walter. “She is here as you asked. Tell us what we want to know.”
His voice seemed to echo in the plain room, as if he were really dozens of people talking at once. It was nothing like the same kind of tone Calliope had used in the cavern. If Walter wanted to, I was positive he could destroy the world with a single thought. No wonder he’d been appointed the head of the council.
Calliope remained silent, and Walter sighed. It was the sound a father made when his child was giving him the silent treatment, not the kind of sigh an interrogator made when his subject clammed up. For all his power, Walter would not use it against her, I was sure of it. She was family.
I didn’t know if I was all right with that or not. Walter had done terrible things to her, unintentionally or not, and he’d put her through hell. But like James had insisted, it didn’t excuse her for all she’d done, and Walter had an obligation to ensure that none of it happened again. We all did.
“Nothing, sweetheart. I’ll see you in a bit.” I would’ve had to be blind to miss the exasperated look she gave Henry, but I said nothing as he led me out of the room and into the hallway.
“Are you feeling all right?” he said, clasping his hands behind his back. Gathering what determination I had left, I slipped my hand into his arm and refused to let go when he tensed. One day he wouldn’t, and until then, he had to get used to me being there.
“I’ve had better months,” I said, a weak attempt at a joke.
He didn’t smile. “Did Theo heal you?”
He nodded. “I fetched the others a short while ago. I will send Theo to our room once Walter has f inished with you.”
That sounded ominous. “Is he mad?”
“No,” said Henry. “He is not.”
Something was still off, and I hugged his arm, pleased when he didn’t move away. “Are you?”
This time his face remained blank. Of course he was angry. If what my mother had said was true, then he’d spent six months f ighting like hell to keep me safe, and on top of failing when it’d mattered the most, I’d run after a Titan less than a day after arriving in the Underworld. Not exactly the smartest thing I’d ever done, but I hadn’t had a choice. Surely Henry understood that.
“I won’t say I’m sorry,” I said. “Not for going after you and my mother. But I am sorry for scaring you, and I’m sorry for not listening to James and staying out of the cavern.”
He unclasped his hands and took mine. He didn’t hold on tightly, but it was more than I expected, and hope f luttered inside of me. “Do not apologize,” he said. “I am aware we left you and the others with no choice. I am the one who should apologize for having put you in that situation to begin with.”
So he was blaming himself. Somehow that didn’t feel much better than him blaming me. “It wasn’t your fault though. You had no idea what Calliope and Cronus were planning, and you did your best with what you had.”
“Yes,” he said softly, “I suppose we did. That makes what Walter and I are about to ask of you even more foolish.” We stopped in front of a nondescript door, and I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Henry let go of my hand to set his on the doorknob, but he didn’t turn it yet. “I will be with you the entire time,” he said. “Nothing will happen to you.”
My heart f luttered, and I racked my brain for what he and Walter might want me to do that would scare Henry like this. Of course nothing would happen to me. Unless Cronus was inside.
As he opened the door, I realized what he meant, and all the tension that had left me earlier f looded back. I stopped cold, and he draped his arm around my shoulders protectively.
With her face bloodied and marked by the chain I’d used against her, Calliope stared at me, her eyes narrowed and unblinking.
She was awake.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IN T ER ROGATION
The burning hatred in Calliope’s eyes made every bone in my body freeze in place, as if she’d turned me to stone. I wasn’t afraid of her, not really, but anyone with an ounce of self-preservation would have stopped short when facing that kind of loathing.
Walter stood beside her, his hands on her shoulders, but it didn’t look like a protective gesture. She sat in a chair made of steel, and shimmering bands around her wrists and ankles held her in place. In the corner, Phillip silently faced her with his arms crossed over his broad chest, and there was a deep silver scar running through his left eye. It had turned milky-white.
“Kate,” said Walter with a nod.
“Hi,” I said, wishing my voice wasn’t shaking so much.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m afraid we had no choice.” He tightened his grip on Calliope’s shoulders, and her jaw clenched. “It seems Calliope refuses to talk to anyone but you.”
My heart sank. I glanced at Henry to conf irm it, and he nodded stiff ly. “That—that’s f ine,” I said, even though it was anything but, and I took a deep breath to steady myself.
Obviously this was important. “Whatever you need.” A cushioned chair appeared a few feet in front of Calliope, and Henry let go of me so I could sit down. I f idgeted, certain that if it were in Calliope’s power, she would have made me burst into f lames right then and there.
“All right, Calliope,” said Walter. “She is here as you asked. Tell us what we want to know.”
His voice seemed to echo in the plain room, as if he were really dozens of people talking at once. It was nothing like the same kind of tone Calliope had used in the cavern. If Walter wanted to, I was positive he could destroy the world with a single thought. No wonder he’d been appointed the head of the council.
Calliope remained silent, and Walter sighed. It was the sound a father made when his child was giving him the silent treatment, not the kind of sigh an interrogator made when his subject clammed up. For all his power, Walter would not use it against her, I was sure of it. She was family.
I didn’t know if I was all right with that or not. Walter had done terrible things to her, unintentionally or not, and he’d put her through hell. But like James had insisted, it didn’t excuse her for all she’d done, and Walter had an obligation to ensure that none of it happened again. We all did.
