Page 9

Nemesis took another sip of whiskey and shrugged a shoulder. The shirt gaped wider at her neck.

“It’s… uninspired.”

Hera actually gasped. The bears all but fell on the floor again. At this rate, they’d be black and blue.

Nemesis kept drinking her whiskey. The bartender kept polishing the glass. The traffic outside could be heard slowing down to a crawl as the evening took over from afternoon. Hera had places to be. And she was about done allowing anyone spoiling her… well, not exactly fun.

“You think you can do better. Well, that doesn’t matter. I command you. You owe me a favor. I choose this mission. I have waited centuries. Epochs. And I shall have my revenge.”

Nemesis did not look at her, and for some reason, Hera regretted that. If they were to engage in whatever battle of wills this was shaping into, she’d rather look into the ice blue eyes. Her breathing sped up, the memories resurfacing in the most inconvenient moment. Ice blue eyes, pale, pale cheeks, a blood red mouth devouring her.

Nemesis turned her glass in a small circle.

“I see you’re not asking, you’re just making a statement, Your Majesty. So, instead of answering you and since your mind seems to be made up, I shall just say that I will follow your list to the T. And in the order you have specified, assuming Goddard saves her arrows for who she is actually instructed to shoot at.”

“What do you mean by that last part?” Hera’s eyes narrowed.

“My last run-in with her in Scotland was unpleasant.” Nemesis’s tone was completely nonchalant. Not a note of falsehood in it. She was unconcerned, and Hera was instantly curious.

“Unpleasant?”

A flicker of something crossed the shadowed icy depths of Nemesis’s eyes and disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

“Does it matter? She… nevermind.”

Hera felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Nemesis was hiding something from her.

“Nevermind? I need her, Revenge. She’s the damn Queen of the fucking Perfect Match. The Cupid for the record books. She doesn’t miss. And she doesn’t shoot unless she has a sure match. She got Erato and Demeter theirs. I admit I didn’t see it at the time, but she was right, for Hades’s sake.”

“Well, let’s leave the Lady of the Underworld out of it and just say that Sabine Goddard better come through for you. And that I’d rather not cross paths with that Cupid again, or she will have to pluck some new feathers for her arrows.” Nemesis turned to her suddenly, their knees brushing, Hera feeling the touch in her back teeth, like a rush of sugar, like a rush of adrenaline. Her blood sang with it.

“I think you’ve forgotten who you’re dealing with, Your Majesty. I came here because I wanted to. And because we did agree on that favor. However, it would serve you well to remember this, Hera… Nobody commands me. Not Zeus, not Hades and not a Cupid. And no matter what you might’ve been led to believe, you don’t command me either, Your Majesty. Nobody commands revenge.”

She did not keep her voice down. The bears fainted. Thuds resonated throughout the bar.

Nemesis stood and picked up the list. A corner of her mouth twisted, and the paper was immediately turned into ice, crushed in those slender fingers, falling on the floor like tainted snowflakes.

“Yacht. Oil business. Art collection. Woman. I’ll see what I can do.”

Hera bit back another useless demand. She needed to adjust her touch with this Goddess. She might’ve miscalculated a bit.

“I… am grateful.” She almost stumbled at the words, but Nemesis’s shoulders relaxing a fraction seemed to tell her she had not missed, this time. “And I shall be the one seeing. What you do, I mean.” She amended quickly and immediately regretted it.

Nemesis laughed. A low, rumbling, honest laughter of exasperation or disappointment, Hera could not tell. And for some reason, she desperately wanted it to be the first.

“When all is said and done, I will be back for that payment, Your Majesty. You will owe me for the favor. I will collect.”

Hera felt a frisson of something too close to excitement run through her at the words. At the potential meaning.

Still, her revenge was more important than anything. Her revenge was the point. Her revenge was the mission.

She watched the Goddess of Vengeance walk out of the bar and waved her fingers at the passed-out bears, bringing them back from their stupor. They huffed as they got to their feet.

“She’s… dangerous, Mistress.” The shortest of them murmured as he adjusted his leather vest.

Hera did not smile. Did not smirk. She did not tell the man to quiet down. Nemesis was dangerous, but nobody needed to know exactly what way. Hera recrossed her legs and ordered another drink. She’d give herself a few minutes to recover before she had to leave to open Olympus to the usual crowd of rich and famous, divine and mortal, and their pursuit of luxury and decadence.

Yes, just one more drink. And one more minute to revisit a memory.