Dionysus shook his head. “I am not going to have this conversation with you. We aren’t going back to that island just so you can fulfill your misguided sense of duty to this creature.”
“If you won’t take me, I’ll ask Hades.”
Dionysus ground his teeth. “Out!” he commanded, and suddenly, everyone gathered in his suite stopped drinking and dancing and fucking. As if they were under some spell, they filed out of the room—except for Silenus.
“What about me?” he asked.
Dionysus glared, and his father sighed.
“Fine.”
Once they were alone, Dionysus rose to his feet. To Ariadne’s credit, she didn’t back down.
“Do you think Hades will bend to your childish will?” he asked.
“It isn’t childish to want to give someone a proper burial,” she said.
“It is when you wish to go back to an island that nearly took both of our lives,” he said. “Why go back? Are you hoping to see Theseus?”
She slapped him, and it stung.
“How dare you,” she seethed, her voice trembling.
They glared at each other, the silence strained, and then Dionysus broke, taking her mouth against his in a hot kiss. One of his hands cupped the back of her head, the other pressing into the small of her back.
Gods, she felt so good.
He had feared returning from the island would mean pretending nothing had happened between them. He had tried, but repressing his desire felt like trying not to breathe.
Ariadne responded to his touch just as enthusiastically, hands sliding up his chest and around his neck. She pressed into him, her breasts soft against his chest. He groaned at the contact.
“I want to be inside you again,” he said, and then someone cleared their throat.
They tore away from each other to find Hermes.
“Well, that was entertaining,” the god said.
Dionysus pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose. “Oh, fuck me.”
“We’ve had this discussion, Dionysus.”
“What do you want, Hermes?” he demanded.
“Hades has summoned you,” Hermes said. “He wants to discuss the ophiotaurus.”
Dionysus exchanged a look with Ariadne.
“I can give you a few moments,” said the god. “You know, to recover.”
“We’re fine,” Ariadne said.
“I think you’re speaking for yourself,” said Hermes, and then his eyes slid to Dionysus—and down to his raging erection.
“Fuck off, Hermes,” Dionysus said. “Let’s go.”
“Oh, I’m not taking you,” Hermes said. “I have an event, but there’s a car waiting for you downstairs. Say hello to Antoni for me.”
Antoni took them to Iniquity, where they found Hades sitting at a table in the private, members-only bar. He sat with a glass of whiskey, two fingers full. In one hand, something gold gleamed—a coin, an obol, the currency of the dead. Ilias sat nearby and nodded at their approach.
Hades did not look up until they were seated. He seemed distracted.
“I need you to tell me everything that happened on the island.”
“Everything?” Ariadne asked.
Hades looked at her and then at Dionysus. “When Theseus arrived,” he clarified. “Though it sounds like you both had quite a time.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” said Dionysus. “Theseus found us on Thrinacia, he slayed the ophiotaurus, and he has the intestines. I imagine he has already burned them.”
Theseus was not one to hesitate. He’d demonstrated as much with how quickly he’d stabbed the ophiotaurus.
“What happens when he burns them?” Ariadne asked.
They all exchanged a look.
“We don’t exactly know,” said Hades. “That’s the problem.”
“What does the prophecy say?” Dionysus asked.
The last thing he remembered about this was that Hades was going to verify that the creature had still reincarnated with a prophecy.
“If a person slays the creature and burns its entrails, then victory is assured against the gods.” Hades repeated the words carefully, as if he was trying to deduce the meaning as he spoke.
“That’s a terrible prophecy,” said Dionysus.
“I liked Hermes’s version better,” said Ilias.
“I’m not sure what you expected,” said Hades. “Prophecies are rarely straightforward, and when they are, the stakes are far higher.”
Dionysus understood what Hades was saying—at least there was ambiguity here. There were instances in the past when prophecy had been so specific, there was no avoiding the inevitable fate, no matter how mortals tried.
“Something with a little more context would have been nice,” Ilias said. “Which gods does the prophecy refer to?”
“Perhaps all of us,” said Dionysus. “Or maybe just a few. I think we should be relieved the prophecy isn’t specific. There is power in knowing what to expect. We can work with that against Theseus.” Dionysus glanced at Ariadne. “Theseus is arrogant enough to believe that the prophecy means he will conquer the gods. It will make him feel invincible when he is not.”
Hades’s brows lowered. “What do you mean?”
“At the island, I stabbed him with my thyrsus. He did not heal quickly, not like you or I. It is a weakness.”
“You mean this whole time, we could have just stabbed him?” asked Ilias.
“It’s more complicated than that and you know it,” said Hades. “He’s endeared himself to the public. If he dies by our hands, we risk losing worship.”
“Okay, so we can’t assassinate him publicly,” said Ilias. “Where do we start?”
Everyone’s eyes turned to Ariadne, who paled. She did not need them to speak to know what they were asking—they needed to know everything about Theseus.
“No,” she said, her voice even. “You cannot ask that of me. He will kill my sister.”
“I told you we will rescue her,” said Dionysus.
“With what?” she countered. “You said that’s why we needed Medusa, or did you just say that so you could add another weapon to your collection?”
Dionysus flinched at her anger and her accusation.
“Trust us when we say rescuing Phaedra will be our first priority,” said Hades. “But we cannot do anything without information, even plan her escape.”
She shook her head. “He will know I told you.”
“In the end, does it matter if Phaedra is safe?”
“It matters because she will go back.”
There was a long and stark silence. Dionysus wanted to say the most unhelpful thing, which was that perhaps then she did not need rescuing. They had put Ariadne in a difficult situation, but she was fighting her own losing battle.
“Are you saying you will not help us?” Dionysus asked.
“Aren’t you all gods?” she asked. “Can you not figure it out?”
Dionysus didn’t look at her. He couldn’t pretend to understand her reasoning, just as he couldn’t pretend to understand the trauma that kept her from helping.
He took a breath. “I’ll assign the maenads to spy,” he said. “They can gather intel on those who are involved, their weapons, their hideouts.”
They were going to need to know as much as possible to formulate their plans.
Hades nodded. “The battle’s already begun,” he said. “Now we must prepare for war.”
CHAPTER XXXVI
HADES
Hades was not surprised that Ariadne would not help them actively plan against Theseus. She had been under his spell for a long time and knew what he was capable of. Clearly, she had come to see one too many of his threats realized.
After she left with Dionysus, he sat with Ilias.
“Those two fucked,” the satyr said.
“Finally,” said Hades, downing his whiskey in one swallow. “Did Hermes give you an update on the warehouse and the club?”
“Yes,” Ilias said. “It went up in flames last night.”
It was good to know, considering Hades expected retaliation from Theseus.
“I don’t know if I made the right decision,” he said. He knew that warehouse in the Lake District wasn’t the only place Theseus was storing weapons. He wasn’t that stupid, though he hoped it had made a dent in his arsenal all the same.
“I don’t know that there are right or wrong decision where we are headed,” said Ilias. “There are just decisions and their consequences.”
Hades supposed that was right.
Then he noticed how the satyr’s eyes shifted from him and widened. He sat up in his chair.
“Hades, the news.”
But he had already turned to see the headline flash across the screen:
Explosion and Shots Fired at Talaria Stadium.
Here was Theseus’s retribution.
Hades appeared in the middle of the chaos of Talaria Stadium.
The magic of the gods hung heavy in the air as they fought amid the sounds of horrified screams, clashing metal, and gunshots.
“Persephone!” Apollo screamed as a bullet struck her shoulder.
She staggered, and as she fell, Hades caught her, sweeping her up into his arms as she gave a guttural cry.
“I’ve got you,” he said and immediately took her to the Underworld, leaving the mayhem at the stadium to the other Olympians.
Fucking Fates.
How many times was this going to happen?
He set her on the bed, only having enough patience to help her out of her jacket. Once it was off, he tore her dress to reach and inspect her wound.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she said, the words slipping between her gritted teeth.
“I need to see if the bullet left your body,” Hades said. When he looked at her back, there was an exit wound.
“Let me heal it,” she said.
“Persephone—”
“I have to try,” she argued. “Hades—”
He forced himself to step back, though he wanted to do it himself. He was faster and it would make him feel better. Of all the times she wanted practice, why now?
“Do it, Persephone,” he barked. He had not intended to sound so hostile. This couldn’t be any easier for her. She was the one who was hurt, but he couldn’t help panicking.
She took deep breaths and then closed her eyes. He watched her wound for any signs that her magic was working, growing frustrated the longer she just lay there bleeding.
“Now,” he said, impatient, but he saw her magic at work as the wound began to close.
“I did it,” she said with a smile when she opened her eyes.
“You did,” he said, though he wanted to double-check just in case. And then he wanted to return and help his fellow Olympians kill those who had attacked the stadium. He would leave their bodies a mangled mess for all to see as a warning to anyone who might think to participate or continue these horrible assaults.
“What are you thinking?” Persephone asked, drawing his attention.
“Nothing you wish to know,” he said softly. “Let’s clean you up.”
He took her into the bathroom, carrying her though he knew she could walk perfectly well. When they had undressed, he kissed her and touched her shoulder to ensure it was fully healed.
She pulled away, looking at the now-smooth skin.
“Was I not good enough?” she asked.
“Of course you are good enough, Persephone,” he said. He had not intended to make her feel any less. “I am overprotective and fearful for you, and perhaps selfishly, I wish to remove anything that reminds me of my failure to protect you.”
“Hades, you did not fail,” she said.
“We will agree to disagree,” he said.
“If I am enough, then you are enough,” she insisted.
He hoped one day he would believe that.
Her hands moved over his chest and around his neck.
“I am sorry,” she said. “I never wanted to see you suffer again, not like you did in the days following Tyche’s death.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said and kissed her.
They showered together, hands smoothing over soapy skin until both of them felt flushed and wanting, but Hades could not bring himself to act on his desires—too much had occurred tonight. Instead, he relied on words and told her he loved her.
“I love you,” she said, voice quiet. “More than anything.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and as they trailed down her face, he whispered her name and gathered her into his arms. He carried her from the shower to the fire, sitting with her nestled against his chest.
“All those people…gone,” she whispered.
Mass death was never easy, and they’d had a lot of it in a short amount of time.
“You will not be able to console everyone who makes their way to the gates unexpectedly, Persephone. Those deaths are far too numerous. Take comfort. The souls of Asphodel are there, and they will represent you well.”
“They represent you too, Hades,” she reminded him and grew quiet for a moment before asking, “What about the attackers who died tonight?”
“They await punishment in Tartarus.” He paused, holding her gaze. “Do you wish to go?”
She offered him a small smile. It wasn’t humorous, more an acknowledgment that he had changed.
“Yes,” she said. “I wish to go.”