“I have summoned both you, Erebos, and your son, Thanatos, to make you aware of a very special guest.”
Maximilian’s jaw dropped as he stared at the two gods before him. Like all of the witches, he too had endured classes on ancient mythology. Erebos was Darkness, and Thanatos was Death. Both were members of the only family of gods to have sustained the transition from the Titans to Olympians. He in no way wanted to be their special guest.
“For how long, Hades?” the one called Erebos asked calmly.
“Eternity.”
“Wait—wait! You have to allow me to argue my case.” He remembered that bit from the classes he’d taken centuries ago. He could not be punished without arguing his case, or having his case argued for him.
Hades laughed and quirked an amused brow.
“What was his crime?” Thanatos asked, ignoring him completely. He’d cloaked himself similarly to his father now, but had refrained from placing the hood atop his head.
“Mass murder of the descendants of gods.”
“No! Wait, you don’t understand.”
“What punishment shall he be given?”
“Twenty-three hours of torture.”
Thanatos scoffed, but a sinister smile curved his lips. “What’s to prevent him from dying?”
Hades returned the smile. “I left him with his immortality.”
“Very well,” Erebos responded. His expression never changed. “Thanatos will take him first, and I will see him after.”
“Make him wish for death,” Hades said softly, and then he disappeared. Erebos disappeared as well, leaving him alone with the evil-looking Thanatos. It wasn’t that he was scarred or in any way ugly, there was just something cruel lurking in those gray eyes.
“Wait—there’s been a mistake. Please. I’m a grand wizard—I—”
He was lifted and slammed against the wall. The god approached him slowly, and laid an almost gentle hand against his cheek.
“They call me Death. I will be unable to give you the death you will soon seek, but you will not find my torture lacking. I promise you.”
And then he was burning up. His eyes widened as the god stepped away, and Maximilian looked down. He was on fire. The flames were at his feet and climbing up his body. He could feel his flesh peeling away, could smell the acrid odor of singeing hairs, of frying skin. Maximilian tried to use his powers to put it out, but nothing happened. It was as if his powers were dormant again. He could feel them, but he couldn’t use them.
“Stop! Oh God! Stop!” he cried. The flames only traveled to his hands. He screamed, and screamed, and screamed some more. He screamed until he no longer had a voice, until he passed out from the pain of his wounds.
***
When he awoke next, he felt like he’d been burned to death. Large blisters littered his body, and Maximilian wanted to scream from the pain of them, but his voice had long since given out. Thanatos stood over him.
“We’ve only just begun,” the god said softly, and then he was somewhere else, with people clawing at him, biting at him. He was pulled this way, pushed that way, their nails and teeth puncturing at his already hurting flesh.
“STOP!” he screamed, his voice grating and raw. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Don’t, no! Please! Help me! Someone help me!”
His screams were lost in the Underworld, caught up and overshadowed by those of others in similar, or worse, positions.
***
Vivienne tore her eyes away from the jubilant scene ahead of her and scanned the ruins around Stonehenge. Most of the witches had vanished. The creatures who remained were mostly weres and the recently resurrected druids. Conall refused to leave her or change, so he sat stoically before her, looking every inch alpha werewolf as he warily watched the druids. Raoul and the rest of the pack had joined him only moments before, and they too mimicked their leader. She searched the faces of the others who remained and almost screamed to see the familiar face on the other side of the plain.
Max! It was Max. He was blue once more, with that long, black hair, but she knew it was him.
Pushing to her feet, she made to head in that direction. Conall came to his feet as well, his big wolf body rippling, and issued a low warning growl that both irritated and warmed her. He cared. She knew he did, but did he have to growl at her like that?
Where are you going, Vivienne?
Her irritation vanished at hearing his voice in her head. She’d missed it, the sweet caress of having him so intimately connected.
I saw Max. She turned to look in the direction where she’d last seen her friend. He was still there, rapidly speaking to another man. A man who was like him.