by James Hunter
That was where Hephaestus had talked to Ares, and that was where the War God had slain the bearded god of blacksmiths.
One moment I was reading the words of the history, and the next, I was remembering Hephaestus coming to me ... well, to Ares. It was during a lull between battles. Hephaestus had his shield and his hammer, worry etched into the lines of his face. The shield was a round hunk of metal, distorted by the heat coming off it. His hammer was splattered with blood and brains from the demigods and humans who had joined in the fight.
We were in a back alley of Minos Omega, the artificial moon full overhead. The smell of slaughter, fire, and lightning filled the air. Smoke and death were everywhere. But right then, it was just the two of us, alone and away from the rest of our kin.
“Ares, I have talked to my wife,” the blacksmith had said, voice solemn and dully serious, which pretty much summed up Hephaestus. Dull and serious. Always.
I’d been insane with rage. Already, we’d lost Athena and Hermes in the battle. I feared for our chances in the next round of fighting. That fear, coupled with my own arrogance, pushed me over the edge, and before I knew what I was doing, I had Hephaestus by the neck. His feet dangled a few inches above the ground, his thick fingers clawing at my hand.
“She is the enemy!” I’d been close enough to spit in his face. “Yes, we both love of her, but we must kill her no matter what. I will not lose this war, blacksmith! I will not!”
Hephaestus tried to say something, but his voice died in his throat. I saw the look in his eyes. He was going to join his wife against us. And he was coming to ask me to join him, thinking that my love for Aphrodite would sway me. Sheer fury blinded me. Without another word, I snatched up the War Blade and drove it into his heart. Blood poured out of his mouth to drip down his beard, running over my forearm. Even still, he worked his lips, trying to speak, maybe to affirm suspicions. Or to deny them.
I smiled. “Die, cuckold. Die by the hand of the god who satisfied your wife in ways you never could.”
“No. We ... must ... join ... together,” he managed to croak out, despite my fingers digging into his throat. “Or lose everything to Hades. Secret. Alliance. With ...” He slipped off my blade, eyes hazy and dim. The life had gone out of them, snuffed out like a candle.
Thunder crackled, and I heard Zeus roar, “Ares! To me! Poseidon, he rides to war on a Typhon! Come!”
Hephaestus’ shield was too hot to touch, but I snatched up his Hammer, clenching down with a white-knuckled grip. However, the special abilities had been locked. A final fuck you from Hephaestus. That was why I could use it to forge Amazons, but I couldn’t use it in battle.
Suddenly, I snapped back to the Olympian Library. I blinked.
Phoebe’s voice filled my head. Dude, are you getting this? Ares killed Hephaestus because he thought he wanted to betray Zeus. That wasn’t the case, though. Hephaestus wanted to end the war, as did Aphrodite, and they wanted to form a secret alliance. Hephaestus goes to Ares, and boom, Ares killed him. And without the extra god on Zeus’ side, they lost and were forced to flee.
I was having a hard time focusing even though the godstone was strangely quiet.
I read the lists of the confirmed dead: Hera, Poseidon, Athena, Apollo, Hephaestus, Hestia, and Hermes.
The missing included Zeus, Demeter, Artemis, Aphrodite, and Dionysus.
We all knew what happened to Hades, Ares, and Persephone.
According to Daedalus, Zeus hadn’t been able to kill Hades—though the sky god was able to banish his brother back to the Underworld. According to the mad genius’ musing, Poseidon hadn’t been responsible for opening the three portals on the sea floor, because it turned out that Ares had wounded him before killing Hera outright. Poseidon beat feet back to the ocean after the brawl, but eventually he bled to death, unable to recover from the wounds Ares had dealt him. That was why Ares didn’t know what had happened to Poseidon—he’d perished after the fact.
Turned out, the War God had been Zeus’s hatchet man all along. Most of the casualties were on Zeus’ side of things, though. And Hades had been responsible for all the kills. It seemed out of the all the gods, Hades had been the strongest. Damn. Even more powerful than Ares, which had rankled the war god’s pride like no one’s business. It had been that—Ares’ ego—which had ultimately driven the god to confront Hades one on one.
All of that made a certain sort of sense. It added up. The big twist was the portals leading from the Underworld. I’d just assumed Hades and Poseidon had created those, but according to the tome, the real culprit responsible for endangering the world was standing right next to me: Persephone.
Phoebe and I turned to stare at her.
The spring goddess stepped back, stammering. “My mother. I wanted to find my mother, but Hades wouldn’t let me leave. I had to open the rifts. I was not sure if the first one worked. So I tried again. And again. Three times. But I ... I never intended for any of this to happen. Please, you have to believe me!”
“It was how you could make it through the portal in the Temple of Hades,” Phoebe said. “You can work the portal magic. Pretty convenient. But it makes this entire war your fault. Did Ares know?”
“He didn’t,” I answered. “He thought Hades was behind the rifts.”
“Two are closed,” Persephone protested, though her words felt hollow. It was clear that her memory had been restored. “I thought Ares would complete the sigil to close the third. I felt terrible for putting the universe in danger, but I missed my mother so. When Ares died, and I learned of the new War God, I thought, maybe I could reason with him. With Ares? He would’ve killed me on sight had he known the truth. But you’re not like him, Jacob. Please believe me.”
I sighed. He would’ve. The old god of war had been a dim-witted asshole who murdered first and asked questions later. Sure, if the wife of Hades showed up, claiming to have opened the three rifts in the first place, Ares would’ve lost his shit.
“Okay,” I said. “So, now it’s all clicking into place.”
You need to go talk to Myrina, Phoebe sent. One more time, we see Ares screwed the pooch. But you and I know it’s more than that, right?
I did indeed.
I left Persephone and Phoebe to go find my Battle Warden. It was the first time I was using Talaria, but those sandals were intuitive as hell. I swooshed up off the floor; it was like rollerblading through the sky, same motion, only I wasn’t gravity’s bitch anymore. I rolled my way around and then skated upward. I kept my speed down since I was still learning how to fly on the feathered shoes. In combat, I was going to kick some serious ass.
The godstone perked up at the idea. But again, it was strangely quiet, because I knew the truth. Ares hadn’t just lost one war because of his bad decisions. He’d lost two. More than ever, I swore that I was going to play this differently. Because if I let the godstone do the thinking for us, we’d all wind up dead. Ares and the godstone had already had their chance, and they blew it majorly.
Now, if I could only convince Myrina of that.
She was a few stories up, sitting in a side alcove stuffed with books and papers. On the ceiling was a painting depicting the beginning of the universe. In this version, the three siblings Acmon, Erebus, and Chaos were at the top of a spiral staircase that looked suspiciously like the double helix of DNA. Chaos was a woman in a flowing gown. She and her brothers—big, burly, and decked out in loose tunics—were reaching for a gleaming golden egg surrounded by darkness. That was the egg that Persephone talked about. So if these three jokers cracked open the egg to create the universe, who had created them and the staircase?
Talk about a chicken and egg scenario.
Myrina lounged under the painting on a red-cushioned divan. Parchment surrounded her.
I floated in and touched down silently on the marble floor. My Battle Warden’s back was to me. Before I knew it, words tumbled out of my mouth. Some I meant to use, others I didn’t. “Myrina, look, I know what Ares did wa
s crazy messed up. But I’m not Ares. I keep saying that, over and over, and I still don’t get it. You don’t want me to be Jacob Merely, and you don’t want me to be Ares. I wish you would make up your mind.”
Myrina stood and turned to face me. Tears tracked down her face.
I expected anger, a punch in the mouth maybe, but not sadness. I softened. “What’s wrong?”
Fresh tears coursed down her face. And then she snapped. She moved forward and started tearing books off the shelves, shredding parchments, flinging scrolls. It was like someone had let a rabid bear into the Great Library of Alexandria before it burned.
I couldn’t let her damage so many irreplaceable documents. I darted forward and grabbed her wrist. She spun and threw a punch at my face, as hard as she possibly could. If I hadn’t been wearing the winged sandals, I might’ve taken that blow on the chin and it probably would’ve shattered every bone in my face. Instead, the sandals took over and eased me back, and her blow whiffed past my nose by inches. That was the Combat Dodge feature at work. Thanks, Hermes.
I blocked her next attack with my left arm and then shoved her up against the bookcases. I didn’t use all my strength, but I used enough.
“Really? You’re going to take it out on me?” I asked. “All that was Ares. It wasn’t me! When in the hell are you gonna get that through your head?”
She swung at me again. This time, I was ready for it. I dodged it and shoved her back again, using just a hair more force than I had before.
We played the same game a few more times—me escalating a little each time—and when it was clear she couldn’t beat me, she simply picked up a stack of parchment, hurled it my way, and let out a scream. “It was you! Against Daedalus and his armies, it was you! The old Jacob would’ve helped Asteria and me, but you didn’t. Ares failed Zeus and the other gods, and you failed me!”
We were both breathing hard. I had my hands up because if she went after me, I was going to block any punches that my sandals didn’t save me from. Which they would at least thirty-five percent of the time.
I recalled that moment when I hadn’t helped her and Asteria against the Tauromino. I’d callously turned my back on them, and at the time, I hadn’t cared if they lived or died.
An ember of shame burned inside my chest. But that hadn’t been me either. “I’m sorry for that, Myrina, I truly am. I’m Jacob again. I’m me, a dork, slightly out of my depth, but far smarter than the former god of war.”
She lifted her chin. Her eyes bore into me. “For now ...”
“This isn’t just about that one fight,” I said. “What’s really going on?”
She took in a shuddering breath, and folded her arms across her chest. “You’ll break my heart, Jacob, just like Ares did. And he never once talked about the Olympian War. He never once told us about his failure, or the murder of Hephaestus.”
“Of course he wouldn’t,” I muttered. “Pricks like that never want to talk about when they mess up. It’s because they’re so fragile. One mistake, and boom, they’re doomed, and their perfect record is gone.” I smiled, an easy, open grin. “I’m not like that, and I’ll never be like that. I want to be honest. When I’m awesome, I’ll tell you. And when I fuck up? I’ll talk about that too. My father back in Illinois calls that humility. Humility isn’t humiliation. Humility is an honest appraisal of yourself—of what’s good about you, and what’s bad. My old man says humility is a strength, not a weakness.”
My smile coaxed one out of Myrina. It was small but beautiful, a little ray of sunshine in the rain of her tears. “I do not know what words I can speak, Jacob. I feel torn in half by you.”
“By me?” My mouth dropped open. “Come again?”
She came forward, not to hit me, but to step into my arms. “By you, Jacob Merely, god of war. I thought you would be killed not hours after taking on the mantle of Ares. Yet here you are, growing into your power and embracing a humility undreamed of by the Olympians. I want to love you, and yet I am afraid if I do ... I will get hurt if that necklace is ever destroyed. Hence, my heart is divided. Torn between love and fear.”
She was in my arms, her skin on mine, her breastplate against mine. Two titans of war, just sharing a hug and a little bit of humanity. She smelled so good: perfumed skin, sweat, and leather. She felt perfect in my arms. Our eyes locked. Then I felt the magnetic pull of a kiss that would change everything between us.
But this is what I wanted. It felt perfect, kissing Myrina, the toughest Amazon I knew, the strongest woman, and hands down the most complicated. The erotic energy between us quickly had us gasping, and then we started unbuckling our armor, shedding our gear—her sandals, the winged shoes on my feet—until we were both naked on the red divan.
For just an instant, I let my eyes rove down her body, from her powerful shoulders to her muscled thighs to her cute feet and everything in-between.
“The time for looking is over, War God,” she said through broken breaths. “Touch me. Take me. If we are to die, let us die having known love between us. For Zeus knows, we have had more than our fair share of hate.”
And that, that right there was Myrina. When she made up her mind, it was best to follow along. Phoebe, Otrere, and the rest of our army hadn’t made it through the city yet, so I had a few minutes. And you know what, even if I didn’t have the time ... Well, I would’ve done this anyway.
After we both finished, Myrina clung to me, hot and sweaty in my arms. Curled up against me, sweet and vulnerable for perhaps the first time since I’d met her.
She whispered into my ear. “I love you, Jacob. I love you. I will fight for you. I will die for you. Because you are twice the god Ares was. And three times the man.”
That was all I needed to hear.
We were going to break into the Temple of Hades and kill Earl Necro Earl. The bottom line was, if I could remove the threat against us, no one would have to die for me. Especially not Myrina, who had known too much defeat in her life serving a War God who had trouble winning because of his own foolishness.
Ice, Ice, Baby
I DROVE THE HELIOS Chariot down a promenade on the seventh floor of the library, my army of Amazons snaked out behind me. Beside me hung the Inferno Shield, Athena’s Spear, and the Crystal Scythe. I was getting quite the collection of godly artifacts, which would hopefully help me punch Earl’s teeth right into the back of his fucking throat. The Death Harvesters and the ballistae had finally caught up, and we were currently headed down a wide corridor, the sides open to the ruins of Minos Omega below and a section of the Submerged Labyrinth above.
Eventually, we came to a grand entryway—an arched marble thing, big enough to admit a whole herd of African elephants. On the other side were the familiar stones of the Eternal Stair, the pathway to everywhere and nowhere. Engraved on a stone plaque above the arch was an ominous warning:
The Infinite Devours the Finite Until Only Infinities are Left.
I had to pause at that. Persephone, behind me, glanced up at the words, her lips pressed into a thin, thoughtful line. Without the necklace, she was withering again, turning gray as the pomegranate seeds ate away at her insides. Hopefully, we could get to the Temple of Hades in time to stop the eroding transformation.
Phoebe chugged up to me. Hey, dude, we got some kinda problem or what? She paused, squinted, and read the words. Yeah, when the abyss looks at your butt, your butt looks back. Whatever. What’s the deal?
I didn’t message her back but frowned. What was the deal? For a long moment, I wasn’t sure. Why was I stopping? We had places to be and things to kill.
Then the enormity of what I was doing hit me. I wasn’t just trying to save Earth, I was trying to save all possible worlds. I wasn’t just fighting an enemy, I was in a struggle against death itself, and the fate of humanity as a whole hung in the balance. Law and order are precarious things, always spinning away toward chaos. Chaos, death, and decay were infinite. The lives of gods and men weren’t. The Infinite devours the finite ... I
t was a warning. A threat that I could never beat something as eternal and fundamental as Hades. And maybe there was some truth in that, but I’d be damned if I didn’t at least try.
Myrina strode forward. “What is the meaning of this? We have but ninety minutes left. We must hurry.”
“Jacob is having a moment,” Phoebe said, in a not-so-quiet whisper.
Myrina climbed up into the chariot and looked me straight in the eyes as she pressed up against me. “Do not be a punk.” Then she kissed me—hard, fast, passionate—and leapt down, a swagger in her steps that I hadn’t seen before.
She was right, of course. I hadn’t made it this far by focusing on the odds stacked against us or by listening to the people who told me what I could or couldn’t do. The only way to win this thing was to put one foot in front of the other until we came to the end of the line. I nodded, my resolve hardening, and ushered us on with a flick of my hand.
A blue dove streaked past me, turned into a simple house cat, and then padded forward through the archway. We followed Asteria onto a wide pathway hanging, unsuspended, in the vast reaches of space. Stars glittered against the wet dark. A green nebula spun in the infinite around us. A whole mess of universes swirled far off in the distance; we might be finite, but we were alive, and I was going to use my life to stop Hades, end Earl Necro Earl, and keep my Amazons—and the rest of humanity—safe.
The pathway ended at a distorted staircase, which corkscrewed straight up for several hundred feet. A shining rectangle of light glowed above us on a connecting platform, so bright it almost looked like a square star.
