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Hades raises his brow in a rather scathing arch. “Perhaps you should reconsider things. Having an ally that’s brave, and smart, and powerful might just come in handy. The fact that she’s also one of the most beautiful women to have ever been born certainly doesn’t hurt,” Hades adds with a wink and a leer. “And though I truly do not wish to see you leave my realm for my own sake, I do understand your desire for your freedom.”
I haven’t much thought of what Hades would do if I were restored to Olympus. I would certainly try to remedy his situation as best I could, if that day ever comes.
A wicked gleam enters Hades’ eyes. “But back to Penelope,” he says slyly. “I believe you should consider her a worthy ally. After all, she’s already managed to escape you twice.”
I jerk in my throne, and immediately send my power out, searching. The Realm answers my command, though it’s sluggish and resentful, but it tells me what I want to know, and my shoulders relax.
“Nice try,” I say, grimly. “She’s still in her chambers.”
Hades throws back his head and laughs. For once, it isn’t sardonic, and while it’s a little mocking, its also genuine, and that’s enough to surprise me.
He grins, white teeth brilliant against the dark of his beard. “Is she? Are you certain?”
Normally, I wouldn’t rise to the bait. But Hades’ mood is strange today, and it makes me hesitate to dismiss him outright. Though, if this is an elaborate prank, I’ll put my fist in his face, God of the Underworld or not.
I send my power out again, seeking, testing, pushing harder.
“Fuck,” I snarl, shoving up hard enough to crush the metal of my throne at the sides. “Fates bedamn it all to oblivion.”
Hades laughs again as I storm out of the room to track down my wayward prisoner, yet again. If she makes it back to the gate with her sister’s soul, then my plans will be well and truly fucked.
Just before I’m out of hearing range, I catch the echo of Hades’ voice.
“I haven’t had this much fun in centuries,” the Death God announces to no one in particular.
I growl, and set off on my hunt.
ELEVEN
PEN
I run.
It’s stupid, and I know it, but I can’t just stand here and wait for Ares to come for me. I can’t fight. I can’t hide. But I also can’t just lay down and die.
I’m moving almost before my brain manages to give my feet the signal, bolting down the hallway and abandoning all attempts at stealth.
I need to find Janie. That’s all that matters. Find her and get out. The words become a drumbeat in my head, a second pulse.Find Janie, find Janie, find Janie.
My feet slam against the stone floor, hard enough that I can feel the shock of it all the way up to my knees. My palm is slick with sweat where it’s pressed against the strangely warm metal of the helm in my arms. I have the key, I just need my sister.
I don’t even hear any pursuit over the pounding of blood in my ears. Maybe it shocked Ares that I just bolted like that. Maybe he’s used to people standing their ground. Well, screw that. My pride isn’t worth my life, and it’s sure as shit not worth my sister’s.
Ahead of me, the hallwayripples. It’s like something out of a heat mirage, some quake through the walls of reality. And then, suddenly, Ares is just in front of me, and my boots slide against the floor as I try desperately to keep from crashing into him.
My heart plummets to my feet, breath stuttering in my lungs. Ares is the Lord of the Fifth Gate so of course his realm will answer to him and his will. I guess I just never considered exactly what that meant before.
I backpedal, trying to keep some distance between us as my thoughts spiral like a flock of panicked birds. What the hell am I going to do? He’s a god, and this is his realm, however resentful he is about that. How do I run if he can just warp the realm itself to dump me right back where he wants me? My brain locks up like a jammed engine, despair weighing my bones down like they’ve been coated in lead.
I never really had a chance, did I?
Ares reaches for me, snatching my wrist as I hold up my hand to him, like its going to do any good in warding him off. His fingers close around my arm like a steel cuff snapping shut. I can feel the strength in his hand. His bones feel as immovable as concrete.
And what I do then? I honestly don’t know what comes over me. Maybe it’s just instinct. Maybe it’s my body’s last desperate attempt to survive. Maybe it’s just that fact that Adonis did his best to drill whatever combat moves he could into my head once he realized that my sword work was laughable.
In the end, it doesn’t really matter what causes it.
All that matters is the result.
