I slowly curled my hands into fists, keeping them pressed against my sides. I breathed through my nose, relaxed my jaw and lowered my shoulders. This was always bound to happen. It was almost written in the stars ever since the first time we met a long, long time ago. That had been just that—a long time ago. He beat someone who barely knew how to fly; he nearly killed someone who still kept tossing and turning every night, hoping to the heavens that her light would be just as bright as her father’s was. I shrugged his hands off my shoulders and turned half my body to face him. Our eyes met. He slid his hands into his pockets as mine tightened more and more until my palms bled. I could barely make out his face in the darkness, but I didn’t have to—fuck me, I didn’t even want to, either.

  Killing him wasn’t going to be righteous or justice slamming its hammer down one final time. Ben died because of him. Lucas sold his soul to the devil, just so he could keep clinging to a youth that had bled out of him years ago. And dad—always dad. I breathed out, glanced at Mr. Campbell just over my shoulder, then turned back to face Lucian. He was waiting for me to make a choice, a decision. We could dance the same dance like we already had the first time, or I could play a game of roulette and hope and pray and bleed my way into a victory. But no, if you thought I’d do that, then you’re wrong—I wanted to make something clear, so this wasn’t going to be a chance.

  It was going to be a murder, and a very grand one, and the world was going to watch me do it.

  “Before you throw your life away,” he said smoothly, ice seeping from his lips. “Consider just one problem with the conviction I’ve seen settle in your eyes. Your father sold me his soul out of fear—who are you in contrast?”

  “That’s a great question,” I said quietly. “And I’ve got one hell of an answer.”

  His smile was sharp, teeth shining in the dark. “Humor me.”

  “I’m Olympia.” I faced him, hovering to meet his eyes. The air just above my skin crackled. The stale wind in the sewer reeked of smoldering ozone as tiny sparks lit the darkness around my fingers. I got close. Close enough to break the barrier of shadows that clung to his smooth, deathly pale skin. “And I’m nothing like my father.”

  And I was going to be better for it.

  Lucian’s smile thinned. “You insult the father of all those righteous and good?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I do, and we can talk about it on our walk.”

  I cracked Lucifer across the jaw. Bone gave, shifting his jaw enough to fling spit through the air. But he didn’t stumble. He didn’t fall. His head had turned, and just like Cadaver would, the bones resettled, the flesh knit itself back together, and the devil looked me in the eyes again, this time without even an ounce of light in them.

  I slowly flexed my hand, ignoring the pain throbbing in my knuckles.

  “A being of no compromise,” he muttered. “I’ve no choice but to be the same.”

  A shadow swept through the tunnel, raking a painfully icy chill down my spine. I felt it press against my skin before the ground shifted, before the air moved and the stench became horribly sour. It smelt like Cadaver, like the dead bodies that rot in the alleyways of Lower Olympus, their flesh melting into the pavement and their bones chewed on by the rats in the dark. A pause. A lasting silence. My skin crawled, then I darted backward, skidding on the stones and watching— Nothing. I looked around. Lucian stared at me, hands still in his pockets. Mr. Campbell was also on edge, twitching and snarling and trying to dig his fingernails into his ribs like some kind of anchor.

  I breathed slowly, looked around, searching the dark. Something’s wrong. My body felt like it was burning, like it was being plunged into frigid, fiery tides that kept rising and rising until it was all I could taste and smell.

  And then the floor split open, and out came hell incarnate.

  A pit of sulfur that spat and oozed and bled foul-smelling darkness erupted in a geyser of mangled flesh and bones and bodies so malformed and churned together I barely had the words to describe them. I flew backward, even further away from Lucian now, watching the creatures drag themselves out of the pit. Mounds of skin with arms that dragged and clawed and fought to tear themselves free of the pit. Humans, people, with their backs split open and ribs torn out so they could fly with their grotesque, jerking wings. I counted dozens. Creatures I couldn’t make sense of—so many of the same he’d trapped me with once before when I was younger. But these were fresh. New. Still wearing clothes. Still with skin that had bright red blood right underneath it. The bodies Ava had seen getting taken away, I thought. Some skittered, nothing bigger than heads with fingers growing out of their throats, moving them along the floor like gory, fleshy spiders. And they screamed—screamed like death couldn’t hear.

  I stood, catching a glimpse, a split second pause in the charge the creatures made toward me, of Lucian.

  His smile flashed like a knife’s edge through the gap of mutilated, monstrous bodies.

  And then they were on me. A heaving tide of flesh and shrieking corpses that blotched the light coming off my skin. They turned the darkness foul and the air so pungent, laced and heavy I could barely even breathe now.

  I crouched. Time slowed. Electricity surged around my body as the concrete cracked underneath my bare feet, then I erupted forward, ducking beneath them, through them, tearing my fists through their guts, spinning around and burying my fingers into their spines and ripping them out through their chests. But there were too many. Too fleshy and fluid and— They could heal. Bodies I ripped apart flung themselves onto other monsters, turning them into even larger fleshy amalgamations of organs and jerking bones. I fought. I tore. They didn’t stop. Their skin clung to my hands, dragging me into their masses. I ripped and pulled, then my leg got snatched by a hand that wove its flesh around my ankle, stinging so badly it felt like I was being burned. They piled on me, their shrieking and groaning and blood curdling cries drowning mine out. Their weight slammed me into the ground, choking the air out of my lungs. I struggled to get up. They enveloped me in their flesh, in their oily blood that burned me red.

  I opened my mouth to scream, and fingers, tongues, and arms of skin flooded my throat. My lungs burned with pain as I was forced harder and harder against the ground, my hair yanked, skin torn and body clawed apart. I chomped down hard, cutting off the flesh that had been sliding into my mouth. I spat, vomited, then let my body gather and surge with power so brilliantly hot and blinding and golden it turned the subway and everything around me, from the bodies, to the floor, the the very air itself, so hot and violent, that the flesh was barely a charred ash when it all exploded from my skin. My ears rang. My head swam. I blinked the spots of light that danced in my eyes, blinding me just enough to make me wince and quietly swear. I coughed and puked the skin out of my mouth, knuckling it off my chin as I groaned. My skin sparked and smoked, still so hot it crackled with silent, angry heat. The creatures had all but turned to emulsified corpses, most of them frozen in place, reaching for me with their rearranged, jagged bony hands, their bones smoldering and smoking and sizzling and black. Everything reeked of burnt meat and simmering blood, flooding my lungs with the stench. The flesh that had wrapped itself around my hands and legs and body had turned into sheets of flaking ash that fell off me as I dragged myself onto one knee.

  I breathed deeply, gasping for air. My body stung. Hurt so badly I wanted to pass out.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  It took me several tries to stay on one knee, and several more to stand up.

  My fingers spasmed, shooting agony up my forearm. I winced. Slammed my fist into the concrete underneath me, splintering it. Not now. Come on, Ry. Just a little longer. Just five more minutes, that’s all I need.

  Five more minutes to beat the devil.

  Five more minutes of being a superhero.

  My body fought me every step of the way as I tried to gather myself off the ground. Lifting a weight that sat on my shoulders, my back, that pinned my knee to the ground. My heart slammed against my ribs, feeling like a fist trying to rip through my torso. I grabbed at my chest, panting harder and heavier than I ever had before.

  The heat rolling off my skin turned the weakening stones under my feet into sludge as I staggered and stood up, a hand against the wall to steady myself. I looked through my hair, my vision blurry, ears still ringing so loudly I could barely hear my own heartbeat. No Kaiju-Man. Missing Mr. Campbell. But he was still here. Lucian stood amongst the soot, the crumbling stones, the heat that danced in the darkness and turned the air disgustingly thick. I pushed off the wall and started walking toward him. Didn’t have enough energy for more electricity. Didn’t fucking matter. I rolled my shoulders, got the ash off my skin, and made sure my necklace was clean enough to shine when I forced my eyes to light, flickering like dying bulbs until I wiped my sooty forearm across my face and made them shine a glaring golden color, illuminating the tunnel with just enough light to see his widened eyes.

  “Shoulda just killed me the first time we met,” I snarled.

  Then I broke into a run.

  I tackled him hard enough to send us both skidding against the ground. I leaped off him, grabbed his wrist, and threw him hard enough to bounce off the tunnel wall. He hit the floor. I smashed my foot into his ribs, and this time, when something gave, I lunged for him again, and then drove my hand so deep into his body he suddenly froze in when my fingers made sludge and stew and gory, wet soup out of his organs. Neither of us moved for several struggling seconds, there on the ground, him on all fours, myself on one knee and elbow deep inside his guts. I grabbed the back of his throat with my free hand and slammed his head into the floor, again and again and turned the stones into crumbled gravel. His face healed. His ego didn’t. Not when he bellowed and I cut him short by punching the back of his skull into the ground one final, one harder time—he groaned, his face a ruined mess.

  His mangled jaw hung off his face, kept in place by loose strips of ruined flesh. I reeled my fist back, then smashed my knuckles into the side of his head, slamming his skull into the tunnel wall hard enough to slump him.

  Time to check if the devil had a pulse.

  I wrapped my fingers around his heart. It slammed against my hand, punching hard.

  Lucian coughed blood when I squeezed.

  His hand darted outward and grabbed my throat. I gagged. Dug my fingers deeper into his heart. He groaned, gritted his blood-lined teeth, then shoved off the floor and forced me onto my back, wrapping both his hands around my neck. My vision blurred. Blood gushed from his side and splattered onto my chest. Then—

  My arm gave out.

  It didn’t buckle. It didn’t break.

  It just didn’t have anything else to give.

  Lucian smashed his fist against my jaw, shattering my rage and bloodlust and concentration the second my head slammed hard against the ground. I gagged on blood and a split tongue. Teeth had come loose. I swallowed. A shard of one caught in my throat. Lucian got off me, his suit now with a hole punched through the side. I lay, arms spread, legs wide, wheezing for air. Heal already, goddammit, you’ve been fighting for weeks, and now you stop?

  What the fuck’s wrong with you?

  Stand up already.

  Stand—

  Lucian adjusted his tie and walked several steps away, then turned back and slammed his foot against the side of my skull. Pain, dull and throbbing, ruptured any sense of where I was. The world span. I tried to roll over. He put his foot on my chest and looked down. He spoke. I couldn’t hear. I blinked slowly. He was suddenly crouched close enough to grab a fistful of my hair and push my ear to his mouth. “Six months,” he snarled. His breath was now like a shard of ice burrowing through my ears and mangling my thoughts. “From the Donovan Bank robbery to this very moment, you’ve rested almost two days in total. Your breaking point was meant to be earlier, and yet you kept fighting, kept raising your fists for a population who would largely rather see you gone.” He threw my head back against the ground. I groaned, then puked on a bubble of mucusy blood that clogged my throat. I tried to roll onto my shoulder, but…I can’t. My body couldn’t move. My muscles felt heavier than they ever had. “How much time do you think I spent studying you? The problems you faced, the journeys you went on, the bodies you tore through and the lives you stole, all because I knew, in my heart, you were nothing like your father.” He used his foot to turn my head. I looked up at him with one eye. The other, the one closest to the kick that had scrambled my thoughts, couldn’t see very well—not through the spill of blood flooding it. “You’re more of a devil than he ever was, and it’s that fragile human tenacity, or willpower—fuck it all, whatever you call it, but your body was always going to fail you. Exhaustion. Agony. Heartbreak. No man, no mortal, no god, is immune. Your father tricked death to keep running from them all. And you, Rylee?” Lucian pocketed his bloody hands. “I commend you for your stubbornness, your unwillingness to die at every opportunity presented to you. Your half year crusade now comes to an end. Your wounds no longer heal. Your eyes no longer shine. You’re human, and have always been. And humans break. The immortality of youth and the lifeblood of your legacy mean nothing. Not anymore. Not now.”

  All I could muster was a gag of the thick stew of liquids in the base of my throat. My body shook, muscles quaked with agony. I wanted to shut my eyes. But if I did, that would be it. I wouldn’t wake up any time soon.

  Maybe ever.

  “Six months,” he repeated quietly. “You’re resilient, if not anything else. You’ve been an expensive, costly, and elaborate investment, Olympia. But now it’s time for the world to move on.” The ground shifted under my back. Hands slid over my body, cold and rigid and hard, as more creatures rose from the pit of sulfurous darkness and slowly lifted me off the ground. Lucian stood beside me, looking over my body. He finally met my eyes, and for just a moment, I lifted my hand up, and up, and enough for my fingertips to graze his tie. Then my arm fell, sending pain lancing through my chest. Lucian shook his head. “You said something interesting to me years ago. Do you remember what you said?” I didn’t answer. Couldn’t speak. My head swam. He sounded like he was speaking through a gag of fingers covering his mouth. “You told me that you would be greater than your father, but at that time, there wasn’t any conviction behind it. Nothing that told me it was true. You were spoiled, powerful, and young. And if you had never encountered me again, if I had died years ago, maybe you would be just as good.”

  He leaned closer, dropping his voice. “Unfortunately, the world, and you, will never know.”

  I let my mouth hang open. Blood trickled down the side of my cheeks, filling my ears. I shut my eyes. Breathed, laboring each one out of my mouth and clogged nose. He paused before walking into the dark. Looked at me over his shoulder. I slowly turned my head to look at him. “B…” I swallowed the tide of blood and bitter bile. I ground down on my teeth, forcing myself to speak, no matter how much it hurt. “But Zeus never made you bleed.”

  Lucian remained silent, then said, “And because you did, you think you’re better?”

  I smiled. Forced my swelling, broken lips to smile. “I made the devil scream.”

  His face soured. “Your father’s death marked the end of an era. Let yours mark the start of a better one.”

  My hand was only able to rise just enough to flip him off, a second before it fell over my necklace. My body sank into unconsciousness, a deep lull that wrapped me up in a frigid blanket—except for the necklace, the tiny golden pendant on my chest that felt warm, present, so filled with heat it felt like it had a slow heartbeat. I shut my eyes and clung to the lightning bolt, my body giving in, my mind blanking, and the cold deathly suffocating.

  Six months, I thought, as the necklace pulsed. The fucker couldn’t fight me at my best.

  This is the guy that had dad shaking his hand? This was the guy who terrified the Olympians?

  Some human who could bleed like the rest of us?

  Lucian wasn't special - he was just another body waiting to drop.

  Just like any other supervillain I come across.