Embarrassment heats my cheeks. I can’t believe I fell asleep on him, in the middle of the day, no less. I keep my gaze down as I slide back over to my side of the bench seat and comb my fingers through my hair. To distract myself, I pull out my phone to see if I’ve missed any messages. There’s one from Persephone telling methat everything’s going to be okay, a false reassurance if I’ve ever read one. But what stops my breath in my lungs is the text from an unknown number.
Unknown:Clock’s ticking, Hera. You’re working too slow. Seems like someone has to offer you a little incentive to pick up the pace.
I read the message again and again, but the text doesn’t change. A clear threat if I’ve ever seen one. But from who? I would assume Circe, but there’s no denying Hermes is a major player at this point as well. It could be either of them.
I look up as the car pulls through the dirt road passing through all the tents. It appears exactly like it did yesterday, but everything seems leached of color. Fear is a live thing inside me. I’ve never failed so spectacularly as I have in the last few days. I can’t convince my brother-in-law to step down. I can’t convince my sister there’s a real threat despite her beingshotyesterday. I can’t even convince the husband I’m starting to believe might actually be falling in love with me.
How the fuck am I going to convince my mother?
25
Zeus
Stepping out of the vehicle is like entering a new and mostly unfamiliar world. This city of tents is filled with my people, yes, but there’s nothing normal about any of this. People move about, intent on one job or another, not paying the slightest bit of attention to me. Back in the city, before Circe became such a threat, I couldn’t walk down the street without people stopping me to ask to take pictures or to sign something of theirs. Even before I inherited the Zeus title that was true. Because I was always going to claim it.
That title Hermes wants me to relinquish. Hera, too.
My wife follows me out of the car, and I can’t stop myself from placing my hand on the small of her back as we walk together toward the particularly large tent that must house her mother. This, at least, is expected. Demeter does nothing halfway.
Two armed guards—both women—stand one on either side of the entranceway, but they nod us through without hesitation. I catch a slight furrow in Callisto’s brow. “Were they here last time you came out?”
“No.” She frowns harder. “Something must have happened in the last twenty-four hours.”
I wait for her to crack a smile or draw the obvious conclusion, but she just keeps looking around as if she’s never seen this place before. “You and Persephone were shot yesterday. That’s more than enough motivation to add some security measures to protect your mother and Psyche.” And Eros, I suppose. But he’s never had a problem with taking care of himself—and Psyche as well, for that matter.
My life would’ve been significantly simpler if I had married Psyche instead of Callisto. She’s just as cunning as their mother, but Psyche is invested in playing the game. Callisto only touches on the game in order to break the entire system.
And yet I wouldn’t have it any other way. I can’t imagine sharing my bed with the soft and apparently sweet Psyche, instead of having it be a battleground the way it is with Callisto and me.
This is no doubt another indication of what a shitty leader I am. I should always be thinking about what’s best for the city—not for me personally. My father had it backwards, and his actions drove a division between the upper and lower city that I’m not sure can ever be fixed. When he ordered the fire that killed Hades’s mother, he sowed the seeds of war. And then he did it again when he attempted to murder Circe, toppling the first domino that brought us to this place.
Callisto steps away from me pointedly. “I’m going to go speak with my mother and sister. Are you heading straight to the mountains or do you have something to do first?”
It’s a clear dismissal if I’ve ever heard one, and there’s a part of me that wants to push back against it. We’ve finally made trueprogress in our relationship. I’m loath to give up an inch of it. “Ares should be here shortly, and then we’ll head out into the foothills to see if there’s anything to find. Wait for me? We’ll drive back to the city together.”
She opens her mouth like she might argue, but finally nods. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
Even with her reassurance, it’s ridiculously difficult to turn around and walk out of that tent. I check my phone, finding a message from Ares with the information about where she’ll meet me, so I head there directly. Walking through this transitional city is strange to the point of being surreal. People are on their phones, but they’re also hauling great buckets of water. There is a massive row of portable toilets at the edge of camp, and I make a wide circle around them.
To have created even this much infrastructure in such a short time is a true testament to Demeter’s skill. There is a reason she was voted in by the entire population of Olympus. The way she continues to be superb at her job truly speaks to the type of person she is. Cunning and ruthless to a fault, yes, but also competent and caring about her constituents.
I find my sister and her two partners standing on a low hill about a hundred yards from the edge of the camp. Ares is dressed in her new usual, fitted pants that look almost military and a long-sleeved shirt. She even has a shoulder holster and a gun. I don’t think I ever saw my sister with a gun before she claimed the title, but she took to it like a fish to water. The two men flanking her are Achilles and Patroclus, former competitors for the Ares title, now her lovers and…boyfriends? It seems a silly title for two such imposing figures.
Patroclus is athletic but built a little bit leaner than both myself and Achilles. He has square-framed glasses and is scrolling through a tablet. He is a white guy with short dark hair. On the other hand, Achilles is even taller than I am and built like a tank. His light-brown skin is on display because he’s only wearing a T-shirt and pants, his hair cut even shorter than Patroclus’s.
Ares turns to face me as I come to stand next to her. “How is Callisto doing?”
When I first became Zeus, and then Eris and Helen ascended to Aphrodite and Ares in the months following, I firmly adhered to only calling them by their titles. Helen, on the other hand, has refused to follow suit. It used to irritate me, but now I find it strangely endearing. “She’s recovering. It was only a graze, not nearly enough to keep her out of the action.”
“Hades is refusing to answer my calls, but I’m assuming Persephone survived just fine. Otherwise he’d be over on our side of the river causing more havoc than Circe.”
“Callisto talked to both of them this morning.” Not a medical update, specifically, but at least I have the information from the hospital yesterday. “Persephone and the twins are fine. Medusa suffered only minor injuries, and Orpheus is expected to make a full recovery.” I glance at the men. “What did you find?”
Achilles makes a face. “You’re not going to like it.”
“We figured out the shooter’s position,” Patroclus cuts in, steady as always. “From there we were able to search the cameras in the area and triangulate their identity.”
Helen clears her throat. “Perseus… It wasn’t Circe who shot them. It wasHermes.”
