My Date From Hell (The Blooming Goddess Trilogy, #2)

The Understatement of the Century (Part 1)

We landed in the middle of nowhere, in a desert. At night. The only manmade item was a large portable trailer with no windows and a heavy steel door about fifty feet away.

With the manacles making my head buzz and vision warp, the sculpted rock formations and the occasional spiky, twisty Joshua Tree gave the world an eerie lunar-like feel. The effect was heightened by the insanely bright star show above.

I felt unhinged, like I was losing all sense of myself. But the one thing that did manage to penetrate the fog of my intolerable pain was the fact that both a Photokia and a Pyrosim, one of Hades' minions, guarded the trailer.

I called the Pyrosim "Infernorators." They were wraiths who always reminded me of Munch's figure in "The Scream" set on fire. The screamer would have to start flying and stretch out his arms impossibly to shoot fireballs to complete the comparison so maybe the resemblance wasn't spot on, but when faced with weirdness, human nature tried to make sense of it.

But why was he here at all? The Gold Crushers and Infernorators hated each other so this made zero sense. Figuring it out was beyond me because my entire world had shrunk to sharp, knife-edged fragments.

Zeus dragged me roughly forward toward the trailer, my bare feet scraping over brush and small rocks. My skin stung from dozens of tiny cuts.

Good thing he held me up, because I was having trouble getting my legs to function. My lower half felt like Jell-O.

He snorted in derision. "You really are weak. One night should be enough to break you. Allow the memories to return. If not, well, I will kill you for destroying my suit."

"That hasn't been decided yet," I heard Hades say. "I think I should do the honors."

I willed my muscles to work enough to raise my head and look at him. Last time I'd seen Hades, he'd been choking from poison. He was back to his massive, alcoholic, bloated self now, the white in his hair more pronounced. Even so, he still exuded a ton of charisma. It was plain wrong.

WTF? Why were these two (im)mortal enemies fighting over who got to kill me?

I watched in pain-induced shock as Zeus backhanded Hades without breaking stride.

Hades' seething hatred emanated from him like a furnace.

My body began to spasm.

Zeus dropped me in distaste.

I could feel their eyes on me, neither bothering to help as I clawed at my throat to try and get air into it, my limbs flailing painfully against the hard ground.

"Great," Hades muttered. "She's going to die before she reveals it. She's the only one that knows the location. You always break them too soon. But then," he said slyly, "'too soon' is a reoccurring problem of yours, isn't it?"

A thud and a grunt followed that.

Pops picked me up. I recognized his citrus cologne. I was bent double, the agony curling my body into itself.

"We'll get it from her in the morning." Zeus turned, dragging me with him. "Lower the wards."

And without so much as a "nice knowing you," he tossed me away like a frisbee.

I barely had time to glimpse the door being opened before I flew inside the trailer and landed with a thunk. My body was crumpled and the sharp, spiking pain in my shoulder blade made me wonder if I'd fractured it.

I heard Zeus' and Hades' continued arguing fade away and the thud of the door being shut. I didn't care. I wanted to bash my brains out and end my misery. Struggling, I raised my head and brought it down with a sharp smack on the vinyl flooring.

Bruised but not broken. I raised my hands, squinted at them through puffy eyes, and wondered if I could thwack the heavy cuffs against my head hard enough to stop the pain.

That's when I caught sight of a small lock on the inside of one of the cuffs.

I probably would have been a bit more excited at this splinter of hope if my freaking eyes hadn't started to bleed. It did not feel like the warm wash of tears. More like my insides had decided to flee my body by any means necessary and my blood was making a break for it through my tear ducts.

I dashed them away with the back of one manacled hand, almost blinding myself with Zeus' pen which I still held in a death grip.

Hang on. I could use that.

I had to take a time out to twitch uncontrollably as my skin began to pulse, kind of how I imagined the ground did before a geyser gushed up out of it.

Despite my agony, I willed myself to lift my hand up and smash the pen onto the ground.

It snapped.

I groped around amidst the plastic fragments. This was complicated by giant black spots swimming through my vision as the pressure in my head mounted. Blood continued to stream down my cheeks and my organs felt a little jumpy.

Sharp metal pricked my finger. Pathetically grateful for small miracles, I snatched up the tiny metal spring that powered the damn clicking of the pen.

Holding it in my right hand, I turned my left wrist over, facing up. My arm shook so hard that I had to slowly crawl over to the wall and lean against it, trapping my left arm in place to keep it still enough to work on.

I couldn't see anything, my body was slick with sweat, and my right arm trembled madly, but I had never been so determined to master a fine motor skill. I had to pick this lock or I was dead.