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“Did you know that most of the earth is barren?” Ares asks, lifting his beer to take a drink.
Setting aside his steak knife, Zeus scowls and asks, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, Demeter isn’t doing her damn job. The harvest has come and gone with the earth yielding nothing.” Ares settles back in his seat, frowning. “Eris tried to ask her what’s going on and they got into a huge fight.”
Despite his concern, Zeus grins when he asks, “Who won?”
Ares snorts. “Athena, when she caught them. We sensed a strange conflict and went to see what was happening. I’m not in the habit of wrestling women with clothes on.”
“Ares!” Hera reprimands him with a sharp tone.
Zeus tries not to show his amusement. Hera often tells him he doesn’t get along with Ares due to their similarities. Zeus can’t see the resemblance, or maybe he doesn’t want to.
“Sorry, Mom,” Ares replies, with little apology. He picks up a roll, tearing off a bite as he continues. “Anyway, Demeter talked to Athena. She told her the earth won’t yield a damn thing until you bring that kid Kore back.”
“He’s not a kid. He’s the consort of your aunt,” Zeus says, defensive.
“Whatever. That’s what she told Athena, okay?” Ares says.
Zeus leans his head back against his chair, looking up at the lavender crystals that glitter in the chandelier. Demeter’s never shown interest in a male—god or mortal. As unlikely as it seems, Zeus wonders if Demeter caught feelings for a random god. From what Ares said, she’s using her position to force Zeus to bring that lesser god back.Clearly, Kore wants nothing to do with her. But I can’t have Demeter drying up the earth. Shit. Maybe I’ll smash her to immortal dust; Mom can still run the harvest with Gaia. Except Hera fucking likes Demeter, and I don’t want her talking Ares into usurping me. Damnit, maybe I should write Kronos and ask his advice. I can do the opposite of whatever he suggests.
“How long until she’s hollowed out the earth?” Zeus asks while running through a thousand different scenarios in his head.
“I’m not an earth goddess, Zeus,” Ares says with a scowl. “You’ll need to call one of the grandmas in and ask their opinion.”
Damnit, Demeter. Now I’m going to get chewed out by my mother and grandmother!
Zeus lifts his glass, draining the good scotch out of it in seconds.
“Hera,” he says. “Call Demeter. We need a plan of action.”
19
Hades
Thanatos scowls when they enter the office; Hades notes his displeasure with a smile hidden behind her hand. He despises change more than Hades does, and the office is a shock of change. The large, leather-bound books no longer clutter the tops of each desk. Gone are the ink pots and silver-tipped pens. In their place stand sleek, glowing electronic tablets.
Hades keeps her face blank, carefully guarding her opinions. The Fates work to avoid her eye, and Hecate moves stilting with guilt. At the center of the room, a large god stands with a prideful grin stretching across his handsome mouth. Kore doesn’t possess an ounce of guilt.A consort without fear.
“Where have my books gone?” Hades asks, her tone even. She gives nothing as she watches the room grow still, tense, and terrified.
“They’re still here,” Kore assures her. His smile doesn’t falter and Hades finds that interesting. His warm hand takes her by the elbow and, gently, Kore leads her over to one of the glowing tablets. “I’m streamlining the information, my queen.” He is nothing but respectful as his large fingers dance across the glowing glass. Kore clicks a tiny black book on the screen and data columns appear in an instant. Names, birthdays, death days, sentencing days, and where the soul resides—thousands of Hades' records are there. Neat and precise.
Hades uses her finger to move down the list.
“You did well,” she says. Kore seems to glow with satisfaction, his presence filling the gloomy room with light. Hades dims that light when she opens her mouth. “Do you know why I prefer to keep the records by hand?”
Kore glances over to Hecate, but she won’t meet his eye.
Ah, she set him up for this. Naughty girl.
“Um, for the pleasing aesthetic?” he asks.
Hades releases a soft laugh. “I’m sure that’s what you heard, Kore. However, that is incorrect.”
Hades' low heels click against the marble floor with each of her steps. She moves over to the endless rows of bookshelves. The room smells of leather, ink, and a dust that only comes from old parchment. This room is full of the scent of her memories—of stories—a library of records. “Did you notice, Kore, that the handwriting never changes?”
Hades reaches out her hand, summoning the first tome she wrote. Black smoke unfurls from her palm, seeking the book she desires. Once her magic finds the worn spine, Hades draws it down with the same snaking coil of smoke, her power humming as the cracked leather settles in her hands.
