The Revelation Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  THE REVELATION (Pandora’s Harem 1)

  Angelique Armae

  THE REVELATION (Pandora’s Harem 1)

  A Reverse Harem Serial

  By: Angelique Armae

  Publisher: Summerborne Books, LLC

  Copyright © 2017 Josephine Piraneo

  ISBN: 978-1-942346-29-6 (eBook)

  ISBN: 978-1-942346-31-9 (Print)

  Cover by Josephine Piraneo

  Formatting by Glass Slipper WebDesign

  Cover photo from Deposit Photos

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at mailto:[email protected].

  Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. All Rights Reserved. http://www.angeliquearmae.com

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  Contents

  GLOSSARY

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Other Books by Angelique Armae

  GLOSSARY

  ARES – one of three Spartan warriors accidentally summoned by Pandora. Ares is the god Ares, son of Zeus.

  CHAOS – the Greek goddess of discord/chaos/storms, etc. Chaos is the mother of Nyx, goddess of Night. She is also the grandmother to the gods Moros, Thanatos, and Ker. On earth she is a professor teaching Greek Mythology at Thorel H. Lane University in Manhattan. She goes by the name Professor Kaye Os.

  Chiton – a long toga-like gown worn by the ancient Greeks.

  MOROS – the Greek god of Doom, who leads a soul to death. His brothers, also gods of Death, are Ker and Thanatos. His mother is the goddess Nyx, the daughter of Chaos.

  PANDORA – the first woman created by the Greek gods. She was given a jar filled with the ills of the earth and Hope. She was told by Zeus to keep the jar sealed. She opened it and unleashed hell on earth, save for Hope, which remained in the jar.

  Pandora’s box – the jar or box given to Pandora. Scholars of Antiquity dispute if it was a jar or a box.

  KER – the Greek god of Peaceful Death and is brother to Moros and Thanatos. His mother is Nyx and his grandmother is Chaos.

  LEONIDAS – a Spartan warrior who is one of Pandora’s protectors. He’s a lion shapeshifter. His brother is Lycus.

  LYCUS – a Spartan warrior who is also one of Pandora’s protectors. Like is brother Leonidas, Lycus is also a shapeshifter but he’s a wolf.

  Mount Olympus – home of the Greek gods. A place on the ethereal plane.

  THANATOS – the god of Violent Death. His brothers are Ker and Moros. His mother is Nyx, the daughter of the Greek goddess Chaos.

  ZEUS – the mighty god and ruler of Mount Olympus, home of the Greek gods.

  Zeus’s Book – a book given to Pandora, by the goddess Chaos. It’s written by Zeus and includes magickal spells and powers. But the book doesn’t work with a specific set of instructions. It can be very good or very dangerous. It possesses a myriad of powers.

  Prologue

  Mount Olympus

  The Day Zeus Ordered the Gods to Create Woman

  Standing in the great hall, I clutch the clay jar—a gift from Zeus celebrating my creation—to my chest. The painted container holds many things from what I’ve been told, but specifics are not for my knowledge. Though I wish they were. The suspense of not knowing what lurks inside, is killing me.

  I sigh and stare ahead.

  A shadow looms on the far wall as Zeus, dressed in a long, white chiton with a gold belt at his waist and a thunderbolt strapped to his side, paces the room, the massive, dark form on the wall behind him follows his every move.

  Without looking away from the ruling god of Olympus, I finger the jar’s lid, but refrain from lifting it. I have enough knowledge to know you don’t piss off mighty Zeus, so earning his wrath on the first day of my life is not what I intend to do. Yet, still, the jar calls to me. It even teases me by shifting shape and turning into a box, then back to a jar. It’s magickal. And oh, so, tempting.

  I want to know what’s inside.

  The lid vibrates against the vessel.

  The jar is not making it easy for me to ignore my curiosity, whatever it contains wants out. And I don’t blame it. Who could live pent up in a jar? Or a box?

  The lid twists of its own volition.

  I clamp my fingers over it’s sides, hold it down.

  I now realize I don’t like secrets.

  The jar grows cold.

  And still.

  I glance down at my beautiful gift, but only long enough to witness a tendril of energy from its now visible gold aura, snake its way through the gossamer fabric of my chiton, and make its way into my heart.

  My whole body tingles.

  I gasp. I don’t know what that tendril of energy has just done. Will it stay with me? Will it leave me? Will it do other things to me? The gods didn’t inform me of the workings of such energies, only that they do exist.

  Zeus clears his throat, gaining back my attention.

  I redirect my gaze up to the mighty god, but say nothing.

  He stares at me, his ominous glare peering directly down his large, straight nose. “Can I trust you to keep the jar sealed, Pandora?”

  Of course, he can’t. “Yes.” Why the lie is so easy for me, I haven’t a clue. Then again, I’m only a few hours old, so between my newly formed emotions and brain—despite all the wisdom I’ve been given, including centuries of knowledge along with the basics like how to talk, walk, eat, even how to couple with opposite sex, though I’ve been told to remain chaste as that is one of my better qualities, but I don’t think I’ll maintain that virtue—there are still things I don’t understand. And considering the knowledge I do lack, who knows what I’m actually capable of doing and not doing? Plus, it’s not like I have any role models. I’m the world’s first female human, which doesn’t put me in the same category as the goddesses of Olympus. I’m immortal with various gifts, but god-status isn’t one of them. I’m the first of my kind.

  “Are you certain about the jar?” Zeus is getting a bit testy.

  I nod, but in my heart, know damn well the second he dispatches me from Olympus and my ass hits earth, I am so going to pop this jar’s lid. In fact, I think the mighty god knows what I’m going to do. It may even be the reason he made me, but since I have little to go on in that category, I’ll just have to wait and see how things play out.

  Zeus folds his arms across his chest. The man is massive, all muscle and raw energy. Apparently, I have a thing for this because I’m finding him quite easy to look at. “If you open the jar,�
� Zeus says, “you’ll pay dearly for disobeying me.”

  I’m not really sure I know what he means, but I decide it’s better to agree with him than to question him. Though I did hear from one of the goddesses who helped create me that sometimes disobedience was dealt with by a good smack on the butt, and I have to admit, getting a slap on the ass from the ruler of Olympus is a bit enticing. In the least, the thought stirs something deep inside me. “Understood.” Again, another lie.

  Zeus raises an eyebrow, the questionable look crossing his face screams that he doesn’t believe me, but he says nothing more on the matter.

  I remain standing in the hall.

  A light wind kicks up and wraps my chiton closer to my body. Sheer white fabric brushes against my face as the top layer of the garment flutters upward in the breeze. My body feels all hot and tingly.

  “Go fulfill your purpose,” Zeus says, his gaze still lingering on me.

  My hair whips around my face as the wind increases. A jolt of heat courses through my veins, makes me feel as if I’m falling to pieces, millions of pieces. I spin, the wind now lifting my feet from the floor and twirling me like a tornado.

  Colors flash before my eyes.

  Lightning cracks around me.

  In a flash, I’m gone from the great hall, spinning and falling my way to earth.

  Immortality is mine, but I have the distinct feeling I’m not going to be in this one body for eternity.

  Hopefully when the time comes for that transaction to take place, I’ll find a good host who can preserve the true nature of my soul. Until then, my only desire is finding out what’s inside Zeus’s damn jar…

  Chapter 1

  Present Day, New York

  It isn’t every day you wake up and learn your entire life has been a lie. That you’re immortal, created by the gods, and are the cause of all of humanity’s misfortunes from heartache to pain.

  But today, that’s exactly what I’m being told. And to make matters worse, this shocking revelation isn’t coming from a good friend, a blood relative, or even someone I’d consider an acquaintance. At least, not on a personal level, as I don’t do the deep friend crap all that much. What can I say? I have a serious issue with trust, like major serious. But I always thought the reason why I’m such a loner, and highly selective as to who I keep around as a good friend, is due to my upbringing in foster homes, having been bounced from one family to the next. Now I know that’s not so. The screwed-up nature of my soul goes much deeper.

  I stand in front of Professor Os’s huge oak desk, my mind too shattered reeling with shock after hearing her revelation, to make my feet or any other part of me, move. But I can’t stay frozen like this all day. “Can you repeat that, please?” I barely get out the words.

  Professor Os tilts her head, her long, blond hair cascades down her right shoulder. “Zeus ordered you created by the gods.”

  That’s what I thought she’d said. But how can my boss know this shit? Yes, Professor Kaye Os is the Curator of Mythical Collections at Thorel H. Lane University, the school from where I’d just crammed four years of study into to three to earn my degree in Greek Mythology, and now work as the brilliant doctor’s research assistant. But how can she really think I’m part of the world she teaches about? That’s insane.

  “Because it’s my world,” she says, apparently reading my mind. “I’m one of them. I’m a goddess.”

  Yeah, right.

  This is totally batshit crazy.

  “Not really,” Os says, again apparently delving into my thoughts.

  I’m not sure I like her mind fucks.

  She frowns. “Let me try repeating myself in simpler terms. Have you never thought about why you were given a full scholarship to Thorel H. Lane?”

  Good grades?

  Os smirks. “Thorel H. Lane is an anagram for Hell on Earth. As in the hell you unleashed on earth thousands of years ago when you disobeyed Zeus and opened that damn box he’d given you. You’re one of us. This whole place is one of ours.” She opens her arms wide as if she can encompass the entire university campus. And maybe she can, if what she’s saying about her being a goddess is true. Though I still have my doubts. And who wouldn’t? A story like this is crazy.

  Professor Os sulks. “I know this is hard to understand, especially since you’re not a goddess. But trust me, you’re not mortal, either. Nothing about you is normal in the way you perceive normal to be.”

  I don’t need a college professor, or a goddess for that matter, to tell me what I already know. The three sets of typical middle-class foster parents who had taken me in over the years, were very clear on that point. Normal was never my thing. Still isn’t.

  Os continues. “You were lured to this university by the gods. They created a whole world on earth just for you. Just to bring you to this moment in time so you can have your one chance at redemption. We never abandon one of our own forever. Unless you go and do something very stupid against us, which you haven’t. Zeus likes you. Overall he’s been extremely kind to you and that should be appreciated.”

  I really am in shock. Zeus must have a very sick sense of humor if my life is an example of him being kind, because my world is so not anything like the stories of his life or the lives of the other gods I research daily at work. Those crazy-ass dwellers on the top of Mount Olympus obviously get off on dealing out crappy hands when it comes to serving up fate, because I certainly have not lived a life full of ambrosia, marble temples, and powers strong enough to control the weather or anything else. I’m lucky if I can pay the rent most months. Bastards and bitches.

  “I think now would be a good time for you to sit, Pandora.” Os points to one of the wood chairs in front of her desk.

  I slowly lower myself into the seat and try to rationalize the news Kaye has told me. It’s a lot to take in. “Pandora,” I say in a barely-there whisper, voicing the word to try it out on my tongue, see what I get from the name. Nothing. I’ve been called Dora—with no Pan attached to it, not even in the slightest—my entire life. This name flip is so not the thing I want to learn on the eve of my twenty-first birthday. “Am I really named Pandora?”

  I stare at Kaye who seems to be mulling over her answer.

  She lets out a deep breath while tapping her long, vibrant red painted fingernails on the cover of a massive leather-bound book that looks as old as time, its brown cover tattered along the edges. “Yes,” she says, finally. “Your birth name is Pandora. And I do mean that Pandora, the one you’ve learned about in Greek Mythology 101.”

  The news is beyond shocking. I also wonder how Os even found the information. “What prompted you to do this? To look in to my background?” I don’t remember ever asking for the favor, though I did, at one time, mention to Kaye that it would be nice to know who I am, where I come from, and all that crap. But I never expected her to act on my comments. What made her do such a thing?

  From across her desk, Professor Os gives me a serious stare, a glower made all the more ominous thanks to her deep plumb eyeshadow accented with thick black liner. And not the pencil type of liner, but the liquid kind, the type of makeup that you use to achieve Cleopatra eyes. Not that I’m opposed to the look, in fact, I favor it some days, but it doesn’t suit Kaye. It makes her look very cunning and bitchy.

  She rolls her eyes.

  I probably shouldn’t be thinking ill of her if she can read my mind, but oh well, frick it.

  She sinks back into her black leather office chair. “Every year I make it my mission to help one student,” she says. “Granted, you’ve already graduated, but since you’re still working for me, still under my thumb so to speak, I feel that you’re qualified for my generosity.”

  I’m not so sure dredging up a past like one associated with Pandora, the most impish character in all of history, is a good thing. Os’s revelation still doesn’t explain how she got her hands on the information I’ve spent a lifetime trying to unearth. “I was under the impression my records were sealed and that m
y birth mother was unknown, since the local paper stated in its write up on me that I was one of those babies left on the doorstep of a fire house.” I know I shouldn’t be challenging a goddess, if in fact Os is a goddess and not just some insane professor who’s gotten a bit too deep into her work.

  “Well, that is where you landed—this time,” Kaye says. “It’s been hard to keep track of you. Even for us Olympians, but I am a determined witch and this time I was emphatic about finding you, especially since that conversation we had about you being an orphan. Your own words confirmed what Zeus and I were thinking, that we had finally located you. You’ve given us the slip several times, thanks to you switching bodies so often since you first came to earth. And don’t go trying to remember any of your past lives because they got wiped clean the second you entered a new person’s body. As for the identity of your true mother, the newspaper article wasn’t too far off the truth. She is, in a sense, unknown, but more accurately she’s a combination of goddesses. And your father is a combination of various gods.”

  I sit baffled, my head spinning trying its hardest to take in all this crazy-ass information, but the processing of such news is not going smoothly. A pounding ache strikes my temples. I am starting to think Prof. Os has a few screws loose. Maybe even all of them. I mean, who believes they hail from the gods? Certainly not a sane person. I slowly inch off the chair and begin to stand.

  “Sit,” Kaye commands, her blue irises shifting to the shade of storms, all gray and cold. The colors are even starting to swirl as if a literal storm is brewing in her soul.