Face of Death

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I was in Hell. Literally. I choked, coughing up blood, as Victoria, the former head of the Ophi school and my boyfriend’s mom—at least, I thought Alex was my boyfriend again—made me relive the deaths of every human I’d killed. Even though I was immune to the poison in my own Gorgon blood, I felt it suffocating me. It wasn’t real. It wouldn’t kill me, but it hurt like hell. I could say that for certain, since I was now living in Hell.

My lungs screamed for air, and my body collapsed on the ground. Hades had enchanted the black abyss of Tartarus to look like whatever it was that would torture us most. We all saw it differently. For me, it looked like my house. The one I’d grown up in. The one I’d been forced to leave when Alex came for me and told me I was part of a branch of necromancers born under the thirteenth sign of the zodiac, Ophiuchus. The one where I’d killed my human boyfriend, Matt, and my own mother, all because my blood was poisonous to humans.

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