I can’t stall any longer. As much as I’d like to call Persephone, I can’t risk Perseus hearing what I have to say. So I take a deep breath and I text my sister.
Me:I’m sorry about yesterday. But I need you to reconsider.
Bless my sister. She doesn’t make me wait long for a response.
Persephone:I said what I said, and I expect you to respect it. I understand that you’re worried about us, but we have things well under control.
Me:Except you don’t. There are enemies in the lower city right now. If you had things under control, they’d already be dead.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I send her two of the videos Circe sent me. One of her and one of Eurydice. I don’t send the threats against Psyche and our mother. There’s nothing Persephone can do about either, and worrying about them will distract her from what she needs to be worrying about—herself.
Persephone:What is this?
Me:Exactly what it looks like. They’re close to you. There’s no doubt Circe will continue being a threat. If you want me to stop worrying about you, then take care of it.
My phone rings but it’s not my sister calling. It’s Hades. Fuck. I glance at Perseus, but there’s no avoiding this call. “Hades.”
His deep voice comes on the line, rife with tension. “How long have you had these pictures?”
That horrible guilt worms inside me. I shift uncomfortably. “A couple days. But the threat—”
“I have participated in your mother’s power games without complaint for months. Nothing has been accomplished except to exasperate the issues we already suffer from in Olympus. The enemy is in our city, targeting my wife and children, and you, our supposed ally, are not relaying relevant information in a timely manner.”
The guilt gets worse until I’m choking on it. “I had things under control.”
“Clearly, you didn’t. Do you have any actual useful information, or are you going to continue trying to terrify my pregnant wife?”
Anger flares, beating back the worst of the guilt. “She might be your wife, but she was my sister first,” I snap.
“True. But which of us has taken better care of her?” While I flounder in the face of that question, my jaw working but no sound coming out, he continues. “I’ll deal with the threat against Persephone and Eurydice. Have no fear of that. Instead, you should be worrying about the rest of Olympus, Hera.” The emphasis on my title, instead of my name, stings as much as anything else he said.
Worse, I deserve it. “If you’d just step down—”
“Don’t be naive. That may work with your mother, but it won’t work withme. Circe won’t allow the risk of the legacy titles rising against her in the future. She has to kill all three of us—which meansshe has to kill Persephone, too. It doesn’t matter what you do, becausethattruth will not change. Stop dancing to Circe’s tune.” He hangs up before I can come up with a response.
It’s just as well. I have no response. The only assurance I have of my sister’s safety is Circe’s promise to not kill her if everyone steps down. In hindsight, Hades is right. I’m being incredibly naive. I let hope tint my vision until all I could see were the possibility of roses. Not the truth.
Fuck.
I slump back into my seat and close my eyes. There’s a way through this, but I can’t see the path. Circe on one side and Hermes on the other, both working toward the total destruction of Olympus as we know it. To date, Hermes hasn’t directly threatened my family, but the threat exists all the same. I have no doubt Hermes is capable of murder, should the situation call for it, and Circe has already proven she’s all too willing to kill her way to the top.
But it’s not just those two I have to worry about. Even if Perseus was willing to step down,hewasn’t part of Circe’s offer. She won’t let him walk away…which leads me to wonder if she’ll letmewalk away if I insist on keeping the baby. Without thinking, I press my hand to my stomach.You can’t have my baby, you bitch. I’ll kill you first.Except I don’t know how. Every time I turn around, I’m being outplayed and outgunned. I’m just as helpless as every Hera who’s come before me. I’m fuckingfailing.
“Breathe, Callisto.”
I glance over as Perseus laces his fingers with mine and squeezes my hand slowly, a silent command to match my breathing to the increasing and decreasing pressure of his palm against mine. Damnhim, it helps. Within a few moments, the panic recedes enough for me to think clearly. Mostly.
“What if we don’t survive this?” The question slips out despite myself.
“We will.” He tugs me until I slide across the seat and tuck myself against the side of his body. If his holding my hand helped, the contact of his body against mine helps even more. His breathing is steady. I close my eyes and press my head to his chest, letting the slow beat of his heart soothe me even though I don’t deserve it.
“Circe is too good. She’s always ahead of us no matter what we do. I don’t see a way through.”
Perseus wraps a tentative arm around me and strokes his free hand through my hair. “We don’t have to see a way through as long as we keep moving. She hasn’t struck again, which means she’s waiting for something. We just have to figure out what it is and eliminate the threat—just like we did with the ships.”
As if it’s so easy. As if Hermes and Circe aren’t running laps around us no matter what we do. But I want to believe the lie, so I don’t point out that we’ve been several steps behind from the very beginning. Instead, I sit there as my eyes get heavier and heavier, until sleep takes me despite myself.
Sometime later, Zeus presses his lips to my forehead. “Wake up. We’re almost there.”
