Page 122 of Hades

“You look like you just swallowed glass.”

“Maybe I’m sick of hearing about dead predators and nobody doing shit until somebody started dropping them.”

Ares grunted. “Can’t argue with that.”

“No,” Zeus said. “But we need to know who the fuck is doing it.”

“Why?” Hyperion asked.

Zeus turned on him. “Why?”

“Yeah. Why?” Adonis leaned forward. “So far, they’re cleaning trash off the street. I’m not seeing the problem.”

“The problem is, they’re killing in our town without permission,” Atlas said.

“Our town?” Apollo asked quietly. “Or our conscience?”

The room went tight. Zeus slammed a palm on the table. “Don’t start preaching at me, Lo. I’m not in the fucking mood.”

Apollo’s mouth twisted. “I wasn’t preaching. You’d know if I was.”

“What happens when they decide one of us needs to be taken out?” Atlas cut in. “You still not seeing the problem then?”

“We don’t hurt innocent people,” Hermes said.

Ares let out a humorless laugh. “We run guns and drugs, Hermes. Innocent people get hurt from that shit whether we like it or not.”

Silence settled heavier than before. My chest felt too tight.

Coeus cleared his throat. “There’s another problem.”

“Of course there is,” I muttered.

“If whoever’s doing this is using plant toxins, they’re either making them or getting them from someone who knows what they’re doing.”

There it was. The exact thought I didn’t want spoken aloud. The exact fucking thought.

Zeus looked at Asclepius. “How hard is it to make this shit?”

“Depends what you mean by make,” Asclepius said. “Some plants are dangerous as they are. Others have to be prepared. Dosage matters. Delivery matters. Some are absorbed through the skin. Some have to be ingested. Some are fast. Some are slow.”

“Could someone buy them?” Atlas asked.

“Some, yeah. Online, if they know where to look. But that leaves a trail.”

“Not if they know how to scrub it,” Hermes said.

Coeus shook his head. “I’d find something. Maybe not the buyer, but I’d find the path. So far, no online trail.”

“So they’re local,” Ares said.

“Or they grow their own,” Apollo said.

My teeth clenched. Apollo didn’t look at me this time. He didn’t have to. The implication hung in the air like smoke.

“I want a list,” Zeus said. “Every nursery, garden center, herbalist, florist, farmer, freak with a greenhouse. Anyone who grows, sells, or studies plants within a fifty-mile radius.”

“Already started,” Coeus said.