Hades Legacy (Hades Series #3)

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Later that night, I'm sitting curled up on Jasmine's window-seat, staring blankly out at the moonlit night when a sharp noise that sounds suspiciously like a stone tapping at glass tears me out of my thoughts.

I jolt and glance around, trying to pinpoint the cause for the noise. Across the other side of the room, Jasmine sighs softly and turns over in her sleep, mumbling something under her breath about 'freaking demons'. I grin, chuckling to myself quietly. Who am I kidding, of course it wasn't Jasmine who made the noise; she sleeps like the dead the moment her head hits the pillow, and I can say that. Besides, even if she was awake, I'm fairly sure she'd still be ignoring me; after my mother left, despite Alex practically begging down on his hands and knees for me to stay and 'celebrate' my decision to stay, I was too torn up by the conundrum my mother had presented me with to allow myself to properly indulge in celebrations, and so quickly disappeared back to Jasmine's house before Eric or Alex could try to sway my mind.

Not that Jasmine was expecting me to turn up, mind you. So, in hindsight, I probably deserve to be ignored.

And punched in the throat.

Let's just say that for a human, Jasmine can punch extremely hard when you piss her off; especially if you're the best friend who told her she was never coming back and then turned up without any warning with only a sheepish smile as an explanation as to why you're sticking around.

Dismissing the noise as a byproduct of the light wind outside, I return my attention back to the window and resubmerge myself in my thoughts once again. As victorious as I felt over actually being able to convince my mother to let me stay up on the surface, that feeling was short-lived; it only took a few seconds for the euphoria to wear off and for reality to come crashing in. And now, more than ever, I can't get my mind off the prophecy, or the person still blackmailing me.

My blackmailer. I sigh and subconsciously glance down at my phone, which is just visible on the window seat next to me from underneath the black shag blanket I've cocooned myself in. I'd received another text from them mere moments after I'd left Alex and Eric behind at The Orphanage - not that it came as a surprise to me at all anymore - and even though I'd purposely turned the phone off after the text came through as a measly sign of defiance, the innocent little letters that dotted the screen still taunt me.

There's something so enchanting about the raw beauty of slowly chipping away at someone until they're left naked and completely exposed, wouldn't you agree?

Mummy and Daddy can't help you now, princess.

Tick tock.

I shiver, pulling the blanket further up around my shoulders. I know I shouldn't be letting the messages get to me. Whoever my blackmailer is, they're purposefully trying to get into my head and, as they so explicitly stated, chip away at me and my resolve until I give in and do the one thing they want me to do: start the civil war.

The frustrating thing is, they're succeeding. Every text message, every subtle threat they make is tearing down my resolve brick by brick. And not only did that infuriate me to my very core; it made me even more determined to figure out who they were so I could stop them before I proved to them that I was exactly the kind of person they wanted me to be.

But how does one track down a person they only know through carefully constructed anonymous threats?

Another sharp tap tears through the air, this time so loud and clear that I just about fall off the window seat in fright. I frown, and refocus my attention to the window in front of me just in time to see a small sharp object fall away from the window pane.