“You’re the diluted bastard of a god no one has heard from or worshiped in two thousand years. I have looked into eyes like yours hundreds of times and seen more desperation than divinity.”

  “But not in mine,” Henry said. “That’s why you’re pissed. You see something different in my eyes, don’t y—argh!”

  Memnon knocked Henry’s left kneecap sideways.

  After seething in pain for a moment, Henry said, “You should know that all the pain in the world isn’t going to intimidate me into shutting up. If you want that, you’re going to have to gag me, or impress me. And I’m pretty sure you can only do one of the two.”

  Memnon took a seat beside him, cool and collected. “I’m not a child of Zeus. You’re right about that. But there was a time when Helen and I… It felt like a lifetime. But she grew tired of me, as she does with all things.”

  “So, you murder her descendants, out of what? A scorned heart? I guess that’s kind of a Greek thing to do. Pretty sure Zeus pulled shit like that, too.”

  “To understand,” Memnon said, “what makes the children of Zeus different? Immortality and divinity is in the DNA. Even godhood can be understood by science.”

  “Understood and replicated,” Henry guessed.

  “And here, I took you for a buffoon,” Memnon said.

  “Most people do.”

  “But you’re surprisingly insightful…for the most annoying person I’ve met during my long life.”

  “We all have something that makes us special,” Henry said, wincing as an intense itch sprang up from his knees. “But not all of us can pass it on, right? I mean, maybe you’re not a limp dick, but maybe Eos’s DNA doesn’t get passed on? You have kids, they’re nothing special and they die. Helen, on the other hand… All of her descendants have Zeus’s DNA special delivery. They could live forever if Helen unlocked their godhood. Could be amazing. So, you kill them before she can find someone worthy of the power.”

  Memnon sat in silence for a moment. “She told you about that? That she needed to unlock your power? That you needed to earn it?”

  “She’s going to unlock Sarah, or me, depending on how we do.”

  “Godhood needs to be earned,” Memnon said.

  “Exactly.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair, does it?” Memnon put the hammer down. “What if it didn’t need to be?”

  “You want to unlock divinity,” Henry said.

  “And gift it to my brothers and sisters, who won’t have to beg for food, live on the streets, or earn their place in my eternal family.”

  Henry’s instinct was to unleash a torrent of snark, but something about Memnon’s words struck a chord. So, he listened.

  “She knew about you,” he said. “From the moment of your birth. She knew when you were given up. When you were tossed from home to home, lost and alone. The boy who knew he was different, but didn’t know why. Unloved. Hungry. Cold. She chose to leave you in this condition. I would never do this to my family. There is no pleasure in this world I would deny them, certainly not the most basic of needs.”

  “What’s the deal then? I agree to let you study me, unlock the secret of Zeus’s DNA, and you unlock it in us both?”

  “If you agree to join me, no more harm will come to you. You will be one of the ósoi thymoúntai. And when Helen inevitably comes to her senses…”

  “…your cult will be some kind of new pantheon. Is that the thinking? Then what? You remake the world or something?”

  “Or something,” Memnon said.

  Henry’s smile was slow to develop, but it spread wide. “This is so dope. Seriously. I’m in.”

  Memnon squinted at him, unsure.

  “I don’t lie,” Henry said, “and what do I care? I’m not afraid to join a cult.”

  “And not afraid of hurting others to get what you want?”

  “You know I’m not.”

  “Good, then you won’t mind waiting here while I get what I need from your cousin.” Memnon clapped Henry’s knee. The fully healed bones didn’t hurt at all. He headed for the door. “I won’t be long.”

  “My cousin?” Henry asked, but Memnon was already out the door. He left it open.

  Henry listened as Memnon’s footsteps faded. Then, farther down the unseen hallway, a second door opened, unleashing a scream from within. There were no words to discern. Just raw anguish and pain. Despite that, Henry recognized the voice.

  “Sarah…”

  He tested his bonds.

  Remembered Memnon’s promises. To not be forgotten. To change the world. To be a demigod without having to prove himself to Helen or anyone else. This was a test, too, he knew. But not of worthiness. Of loyalty.

  And he was okay with that.

  He knew how to handle it.

  As Sarah’s screams continued, Henry closed his eyes and laid back.

  37

  “Look at that,” Rhonda said with earnest astonishment. “It’s growing back.”

  “You cut off my finger!” Sarah screamed, as pain pulsed from her finger, up her arm, and then radiated through her chest.

  “Just the tip,” Rhonda said, with a wink and a grin. “And from what I’ve heard, you’ve endured far worse than a little snip today.” She held up the heavy, curved, blood-soaked clippers that had cut through nail, flesh, and bone. Gave them a double squeeze and set them aside. “So buck up. For now, at least. It gets worse from here.”

  “W-what are you going to do?”

  Rhonda shrugged like she was deciding between jelly and jam. “A little bit of everything. We’re going to take you apart. Test your limits. I like to be diligent, so it will be slow, but try to think of it like boiling frog syndrome.”

  Sarah stared at the woman, refusing to take the bait.

  “You don’t know what that is?” Rhonda asked. “Tsk. Kids today. What happens when you toss a frog into a pot of boiling water?” She paused, grinning. “Same thing that happens when you throw a person in. They freak out from the pain and try like hell to get out. Emphasis on the try. For frogs…and for people. But, if you put a frog in lukewarm water and slowly increase the temperature, it enters a blissful state of relaxation, to the point where its mind shuts off, and it doesn’t register the pain of being cooked alive. To be clear, there is a point where people react to the pain of a slowly rising temperature. Our brains have long since evolved past the reptilian.”

  “Frogs are amphibians.”

  Rhonda glared. “Huh? What was that? You want to skip ahead? We could have taken our time. Given your mind time to disassociate like a fucking frog before things got bad, but we can jump right to vivisection. If that’s what you want, so be it.”

  She picked up a bone saw. Marveled at its gleaming teeth. “To me, you’re no different than the frog. Fast or slow, I’m going to cook you and render your body down to its various parts. There will come a point when things can’t grow back, you know. You can’t get something from nothing.”

  She motioned to Sarah’s hand. “The cells in that new fingertip didn’t materialize out of thin air. I wonder, if we cut off your arm, and it grows back, what part of your body will give up raw material to form the new limb? I don’t see much fat on you. So maybe it will be the muscle in your legs. You’ve got powerful thighs. Meat to donate. But what if we take off the other arm? See where I’m going with this? With each removal, you’ll lose mass. Eventually, you won’t be able to heal. Eventually, you will die. But not before giving me everything I need. At least your death will mean something. Think about all the frogs who came before you.”

  Sarah tried to hide her revulsion. Rhonda wasn’t really speaking about frogs anymore. How many people had she killed here? How many of them were Helen’s descendants? How many were normal people? And what about before Rhonda? Memnon had been doing this for thousands of years.

  Goosebumps sprang to life all over Sarah’s skin.

  Rhonda was delighted. “You understand. Wonderful. Since I like your fighting spirit, I’ll start at the wrist, instead of the shoulder. Take a breath now. See if you can’t find your happy place.”

  She positioned the saw over Sarah’s wrist. The razor-sharp blade tips grazed her skin. Drew blood.

  Sarah’s mind didn’t retreat. It sharpened.

  Rhonda was a crazy bitch, but she was also right. Sarah wouldn’t survive being dismantled. That pretty much killed anyone, human or supernatural. She needed to escape, and losing a hand might be the way to do it.

  It would hurt like hell, but if she could stay conscious through the pain, she could slip her stump arm from its binding.

  Then what?

  Would her hand grow back fast enough to take the saw from Rhonda, kill her, and then hack her way to freedom? What if the cables couldn’t be cut through? Would she have the strength to cut her other hand off? Her feet?

  Sarah didn’t think so.

  Maybe Rhonda has the keys...

  Maybe they’re just clips. No hacking or keys required.

  And if my hand doesn’t grow back really fast?

  Sarah glared at her captor.

  I’ll stab her in the eye with my stump.

  Rhonda paused, saw held still. Looking at Sarah’s raging eyes. “You’re the one who feels fear, right?”

  She’s talking about Henry…

  Rhonda nodded to herself. “So, where is it?”

  “In my happy place,” Sarah said. “Hanging out with Fuck and You.”

  Rhonda had a good chuckle at that. “Oh, Hun, I do like you.”

  She pulled the saw. Teeth sliced through skin, separating layers as it slid back. Blood seeped from the wound, but the real damage—to sinew, ligaments, and vessels would come when Rhonda pushed the blade forward and the teeth really bit in.

  And then it happened. A vibrating pain launched an assault on Sarah’s body, drawing an involuntary scream.

  “There it is,” Rhonda said. “Back from the happy place.”

  The saw slid back again, cutting deeper.

  How many passes would it take? Five? Ten? More?

  Stay conscious, Sarah told herself. You’ll be fine. It’s just pain.

  Doubt crept into her thoughts. What if it didn’t grow back? What if her ability to heal was limited to flesh wounds? Achilles was brought down by a wound to his foot. He didn’t even have it cut off.

  Even as she felt warm blood on her skin, her arm grew cold.

  Motion in the doorway.

  Memnon was back, looking pleased with himself, and then confused by what he saw. “Skipping a few steps?”

  “She…antagonized me,” Rhonda said, saw blade held still, lodged in Sarah’s wrist.

  “Defiance is part of her charm,” he said. “Fortunately, the other is far less…scrupled.”

  “He’s joining us?” Rhonda asked, ecstatic.

  “Time will tell,” Memnon said, then he motioned to Sarah’s wrist. “Slow it down…but keep her screaming. We need to see how he reacts.”

  Henry is here…

  Henry is listening…

  And he’s going to join them?

  “Henry!” She screamed. “You asshole! For the first time in your God damn life you found out you had family, and this is how you treat me?!”

  Rhonda looked to Memnon. “Should I take her tongue?”

  He shook his head. “Let him hear every drawn-out moment of pain, and then the silence of her death. Only then will we know if—”

  Sarah pushed her hand up into the saw, pushing the blade further through her flesh.

  Rhonda gasped and yanked the blade out before it could fully sever the limb. When she realized what Sarah was attempting to do, she gasped again, but with a Cheshire smile. “I do wish you had been the one to join us.”

  “Not too late,” Sarah said. “Let me loose, so I can go KILL HENRY!”

  The pain in Sarah’s arm faded and disappeared. Her wrist had stitched itself together, flesh and bone. Whole again, and locked in place.

  “He didn’t tell you, did he?” Memnon asked.

  Sarah glared.

  Memnon leaned his elbows on the operating table, casual, like he was getting ice cream with a girl on a pier. “Of course not. Why would he? Henry is a selfish person.”

  Sarah didn’t disagree.

  “Remember how I told you, that a demigod’s power needed to be unlocked?” He waited for a reply, but got only silence. “Before she left, Helen told Henry about that. And that she would only unlock one of you. Whoever proved themselves to be the worthiest. Henry sent you away so he wouldn’t have to compete with you.”

  Sarah turned toward the door, imagining laser beams from her eyes cutting through the building and striking Henry, wherever the little douchebag was skulking.

  “Is that all you have in you?” Memnon asked. “Dirty looks and a loud mouth?”

  “Like I said…let me loose and—”

  “Pathetic.” Memnon crossed his arms. “You were born with the blood of Zeus. Even though your true power hasn’t been unlocked, you are still more than human. And the pinnacle of your life so far is serving donuts to commuters. Never once employee of the month. The only thing you are a poster child for is mediocrity.”

  Sarah ground her teeth and pulled up against her bonds. She felt them resist, and then stretch.

  Memnon and Rhonda glanced to the side, both of them staring at a monitor beside the bed, more interested in what it displayed than in Sarah’s attempt to break free. Memnon and Rhonda’s shift in expression was subtle, but both looked impressed.

  They’re testing me still.

  Monitoring my strength.

  “I am…getting…so fucking tired…of this fucking day!” Sarah pulled harder.

  “Oh my god,” Rhonda whispered still watching the screen.

  Sarah didn’t know how many PSI they were seeing on the screen. Didn’t care. She wanted to rip the bed to pieces, and then Rhonda and Memnon, and then the whole damn wing of the hospital with his name on it.

  Sarah screamed, this time in exertion.

  Memnon glanced at her bonds, looking a little worried.

  Then Sarah stopped. “Hold on. What the hell, dude? Why are you concerned? I’m strapped to a damn bed by steel cables. I’m strong, I get it, but I’m not a…”

  There was a hollow whoosh as a metallic blur catapulted past Sarah’s face. It was followed by a clang and the sound of Rhonda collapsing to the floor.

  “Bedpan to the face!” Henry stood in the doorway, buck naked. One wrist was covered in blood, but there was no wound.

  “Pull out, dummy,” he said to her, “not up.” Then he charged into the room, leaped toward Memnon and shouted, “For Asgard!”

  Memnon sidestepped the attack, put his palm on the back of Henry’s head…and tossed him through the wall.

  38

  Henry lay still on the floor of a neighboring lab, full of glass jars of various sizes. Each was full of light blue liquid and a body part. Sarah saw feet and hands, eyeballs and tongues, and a row of brains. She didn’t need to be told what she was looking at, she knew, without a doubt, that she was looking at Helen’s descendants.

  My ancestors…

  And then the truth struck her like a sledgehammer to the sternum.

  My parents…

  It would be just one of them. She doubted both her parents were Helen’s progeny. Who was it? Her mother? Her father? They both died in the…

  Holy shit…

  “Did you kill my parents?”

  Memnon turned from the view of Henry on the floor. Leveled a fiendish smile at Sarah, still lying on the table.

  “It was your mother,” he said. “She carried the blood. A strong woman. Not like you. But she had potential. Your father was undeserving of her. Do you know what he did for a living? He was a janitor. Cleaning other people’s filth while they slept. You might have inherited your mother’s strength, but you take after your father in every other way. At least he might have been proud of you.”

  Sarah’s chest heaved with each breath. Her body tensed. Grew hot. Vision narrowed. Heart hammered.

  “Look at it this way…” Memnon turned back to the lab where Henry was still sprawled out naked on the floor. Motioned to a high shelf. “…you’ll soon be reunited with your mother.”

  Sarah’s vision followed Memnon’s hand, landing on a top shelf. The jars lining the shelf were larger than the rest, each one containing a surgically severed human head. The eyes and mouths were sewn shut, and the faces were distorted by the glass’s curvature, but Sarah had no trouble recognizing the face of her mother. The high cheekbones. The dark skin. The scar on the side of her chin.

  “If it makes you feel better, she didn’t die in the accident with your father. She was here, with me and the others… Like Henry’s mother. They were impressive throughout our ten years together…and good company on occasion.”

  Sarah froze in place. She understood what he was saying, but she couldn’t believe it.

  Memnon gave a slow nod. “You had many brothers and sisters…as did Henry. Our best results came from splicing together the two. DNA is easily transplantable.”

  Sarah reeled at the news. Memnon had not only killed her parents—and Henry’s—but he had used their mothers to create test-subjects. And some of them, created using an amalgam of DNA, would have been family to her and to Henry.

  “That’s fucking insane,” she growled.

  “They are the strongest of my creations, but their blood did not reveal the secrets of divinity. You and Henry, on the other hand. I don’t understand it yet, but you are both different from the others. Unique. It won’t be long before I understand why. And then…well, maybe you won’t join your mother right away. Maybe we’ll find out what kind of child comes from this union.” He glanced at Henry and then back again.

  Revulsion overwhelmed Sarah. Two thousand years of immortality had detached Memnon from all traces of morality and humanity. An undying psychopath obsessed with uncovering the secret to godhood.

  A tornado of rage spiraled inside her. Here was the man who had killed her parents and ruined her life. He’d done the same to Henry. And now, he was going to use her as a surrogate mother for Henry’s children?