“The giants.” Athena readied her spear. “We need to hurry.”
“I’m the Huntress—I’ll go track them down.” Selene stepped toward the blackness.
“We’ll just lose you, too!” Aphrodite protested.
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Yes, actually.” She tossed back her hair to reveal the full glory of her body.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. No one can see you!”
“Desire is about far more than looks, my dear. It’s about every sense you can name and some you can’t. The gods will come.” She spread her feet a bit wider, opening herself shamelessly, and raised her arms to place them at the nape of her neck so her breasts lifted. The distinct tang of pheromones wafted through the air. She closed her eyes and cocked one knee. Despite the clammy chill, her skin flushed pink.
Selene and Athena, for once, were on exactly the same page.
“Do not tell me this is going to work,” Selene groaned, just as Athena grumbled, “If she’s right, I’m—”
Dionysus was the first to stumble out of the mists, still in the tight shorts and filthy T-shirt he’d worn on Olympus. He held his hands over his eyes, peering out between slitted fingers, blinded by their flashlights.
Selene was shocked by the change in his appearance. When he’d first walked through the portal, the damage that centuries of lassitude had wreaked on his body had fallen away, sloughing off the potbelly, the puffy eyes, the easy slouch. But Dionysus’s stay in Tartarus had ravaged him in a way all his excesses never could. His immortal face remained unlined above his dark beard, but his eyes had sunk deep into his skull, horror etched upon his face.
Yet the moment he saw Aphrodite, he managed a feral smile. “Oh, man, you have no idea how grateful I am to see you.” He ignored the other goddesses entirely. “I mean, sorry Dad caught you, but you have no idea the blue balls I’ve got after being stuck down here with no one but Persephone to chase after.”
Aphrodite cocked her other hip. Taking that as an invitation, Dionysus reached for the fly of his shorts like a starving man grasping blindly for food. Athena struck her spear against her shield again, stopping him in his tracks.
He noticed the other women for the first time. “Oh, hello, ladies,” he said with a strained attempt at his old insouciance. “The more the merrier, you know.” He seemed to speak more out of habit than will, barely able to focus on the images in front of him. His eyes kept flicking back to Aphrodite. Yet he saw the items in Athena’s hands and managed, “Wait, Dad let you keep your weapons? His storm ripped away my thyrsus on the way here.”
“Father didn’t cast us down,” Athena said sharply. “We came here to get you out.”
Selene nodded curtly, although the more she looked at the line of drool dripping through Dionysus’s beard, the less she wanted to rescue him. The world might be a little better off without the God of Frenzy.
Dionysus looked from one goddess to the other. “Can you do that?” Selene had never heard him so desperate.
“We can,” Athena said firmly. “Where are the others?”
“I don’t know.” The lust drained from his gaze, replaced with the same raw fear he’d shown when he emerged from the fog. “We … wander. In the dark. Sometimes we run into each other, but sometimes we run into the giants instead.”
As if on cue, the ground shuddered with the drumming of massive footsteps. Selene aimed a hawk-fletched arrow toward the fog but didn’t shoot, tracking the sound as it passed before them and then faded into the distance again. Dionysus clutched his arms across his chest, staring into the black. “We fight. With tooth and nail. Our ichor flows. We feel pain. But then we heal again. There is no end to it. And there is nothing else.”
Selene thought of the Smith stumbling through this eternal night, battling for an existence that was nothing like a life. Come to me, Hephaestus, she prayed silently. Come so I can take you back into the sunlight where you belong.
Poseidon appeared instead, hands outstretched as he staggered toward Aphrodite’s naked body. Athena caught him by the arm.
He lashed out wildly, but she ducked the blow. “Peace, Uncle! I am no giant!” She wrapped her arms around him. “I’ve come to release you.”
The God of the Sea began to weep with relief at the sight of her spear and shield. Torrents of salt water coursed down his face like ocean swells.
Selene turned her flashlight back to the darkness, peering in vain for her aunts Demeter, Hestia, and Hera. For her cousin Persephone. Most of all, for Hephaestus.
“Hurry, Flint,” she murmured. This was the man who had crafted the golden necklace for her over centuries, carving her story upon its links. Surely that sort of love would draw him to her even now.
Her light picked out a dim silhouette amid the swirling fog, and her heart leapt in response. But the figure was too narrow-shouldered to be the Smith, too angular to be a goddess.
Hermes.
He stood just inside the circle of the flashlight’s beam, taking in the scene with a wary expression. He still wore his helmet, but the wings flopped limply to brush his shoulders.
Selene swung her bow in his direction. “You do not get to escape.”
Dionysus rushed forward with his fist upraised. “I’ve been looking for you, douchebag!”
Athena stepped neatly in front of Hermes, raising her shield over him. “Stop! I will not have him harmed.”
“It’s his fault we’re here!” Poseidon cried.
“Our uncle’s right,” Selene seethed. “He helped Father. He watched his own kin murdered and did nothing. The Trickster stays in Tartarus—where he belongs.”
Hermes bowed his head, all his customary lightness gone. “I, too, was deceived. Father didn’t tell me about making Saturn stronger at first—I swear it on the Styx. I only learned about his role after Hades and Mars and Apollo were already dead. I was angry with Father, but I thought if I went ahead with the plan and built the hydraulis, if I recovered the lightning bolt and convinced Theo to use it, it would make up for everything. The portal would save so many of us—the others would not have died in vain.” He stared at his family, hands open and pleading. “You must believe me. I had no idea Father meant to—”
“Shut up, Scooter.” Selene stopped him before he could spin any more lies. “The portal is closing. So unless you can see through this fog and find the others before we all become some giant’s after-dinner snack, I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”
He looked at her solemnly. “I don’t have to see in the dark. I’m the Messenger once more. I can find any god I wish.”
He turned and sprinted through the wall of mist.
Chapter 55
OMNIPOTENT
Like a paranoid bird, Theo swiveled his gaze from the wavering portal to the belching chasm and back again. He glanced at his watch, looking for answers he knew it couldn’t provide. Ten minutes had passed and the portal to Manhattan was about half as wide as it’d been at the start. Did he have another ten minutes, or would the closing accelerate? He couldn’t remember how it had worked on Mount Olympus.
I could jump down into Tartarus and try to speed things along, he considered, but he knew the gesture would be pointless. In this world, the goddesses’ powers so far outstripped his own that he’d have little to offer. He’d just be one more body to haul back up again.
The thrill and terror of finding himself in ancient Athens was beginning to wear off. It was just a barley field like any other barley field, and so far there was no sign of Zeus. The Acropolis was far enough away that the blur of grand buildings on its summit left his curiosity piqued but unsatisfied.
When this is all done, I wonder if we could just open up the occasional portal for research purposes, he mused. Take a little weekend away in the Classical Age. Of course, we’d be dodging Zeus all the way, but perhaps if we—
A whispered “Theo!” broke his reverie.
He looked through the portal to see Ruth, Gabi, and Minh standing on th
e New York side, peering at him with a mix of trepidation and fascination.
“What’re you guys doing? Get off the bridge!”
Gabi frowned at him. “Where are the big bad goddesses who are supposed to be protecting you in case Zeus shows up?”
He jerked a thumb at the smoking ravine. “Down there, doing what they said they would. I’m fine, okay? Just waiting for them to get back.”
“What does it feel like in there?” Minh asked, taking out her phone to video the portal.
“Hey! Do you really need to film this?” he begged. “Look, it’s hot, okay? Like Greece-in-summer hot, what do you expect?”
Philippe joined the women. He still looked unsteady on his feet. “Shouldn’t Mama be back by now? Do you need me to come in and help?” The God of Love looked like he could barely stand, much less rescue anyone from Tartarus. Theo could imagine the fight he must’ve had with Esme before she even allowed him to come at all.
“No, it’s fine. I just …” Theo began with a sigh, but he trailed off when he noticed the look of horror cross his friends’ faces. “What?”
Ruth pointed mutely over his shoulder.
A forest of spearpoints bobbed above the barley stalks. The grain waved and shuddered as if a hundred, a thousand, soldiers ran through it.
“Maybe they’re just doing some military training exercise …” he said weakly.
“Get out of there,” Ruth demanded, reaching out her hand to help him through.
“Not without Selene,” he insisted. “She can’t get back without me.”
He could hear the thunder of marching footsteps now, feel the vibrations beneath the soles of his sneakers. The promakhoi—the first rank of soldiers—appeared at the edge of the field, spreading out beside the smoking cleft. In their breastplates and greaves, with the long cheek and nose guards of their helms hiding their faces, they looked fearsome, inhuman. Yet Theo could hear them panting; he could see the sweat running down their oiled arms. They were men, just like him. Men in very good shape.
“Please,” Theo murmured to his friends without looking behind him. “Go now.”
Instead, he heard the clatter of metal as his own beloved promakhoi raised the shields Athena had given them.
He left his own shield at his side. He didn’t draw his sword. Perhaps he could talk his way out of this.
He offered a “Khairete!” in greeting. Beyond that, he wasn’t exactly sure what to say. He pointed at the smoking cleft and settled for, “Phylassesthe to khasma.” Mind the gap.
To his shock, the soldiers fell to one knee and bowed their heads.
From behind him, Theo heard Philippe’s smug chuckle. “I see they still know a god when they see one.”
Theo glanced around, but Philippe remained on the New York side of the portal. Handsome and well dressed—but godly? Not exactly.
“Shall I come through and give them a taste of my full glory?” Philippe asked eagerly.
“No—you may not be able to get out,” Theo replied quickly. “It looks like everything’s under control for the moment, so—”
An eagle’s cry split the air.
The soldiers shuffled apart to leave an aisle clear between their ranks.
A figure three times the height of a man strode through, his thunderbolt in one hand and a golden eagle perched on his shoulder.
The King of the Gods stepped up to the lip of the cleft and stared down into the smoke. Then he looked at Theo, his gaze as piercing as any raptor’s talons.
“Where are they?” he demanded, his voice rolling like thunder.
Theo forced himself not to cover his ears.
“Tell me!” Zeus commanded, louder this time. But his voice cracked like a desperate father’s when he added, “Without the rest of my children, I am incomplete.”
Theo’s mind whirled. If he admitted that Selene and the others were in Tartarus, Zeus would surely close the rift above them, trapping them for eternity. “They sent me in here to open the chasm,” he said, “but they’re still out there.” He jerked a thumb toward Manhattan.
Zeus’s lightning-stare bored into Theo. “My daughters are no cowards. Why send a thanatos to confront me alone?”
Theo let himself tremble in fear—it wasn’t hard. “It’s a trap,” he blurted. “They don’t really intend to rescue the others; they just want you to chase them back through the portal. They figured once you crossed over, you’d lose all your power again, and they could defeat you.”
A sly smile drifted across Zeus’s lips. Theo’s unease grew, but he plowed onward. “I told them it wouldn’t work—you wouldn’t be so stupid. But you know Athena and Artemis. They don’t take advice from a mere mortal like me.”
Zeus’s eyes flew to the portal. Theo’s friends stood steadfast behind their raised shields; he could hear Gabi’s muttered Spanish curses.
“They’re out there?” the King of the Gods asked.
“Yup,” Theo said with a contrite shrug. “And since you can’t pass through, I guess that’s where they’re going to stay.”
Zeus stared down at Theo. “I thought you were a scholar. Do you not recognize me?”
“Uh …”
The god drew himself up even taller than his already impossible height. He seemed to swell; his glowing aura burned a little brighter. “I am the Almighty. The Majesty of the Heavens. Lord of the Sky. The Omnipotent. I am the Maker of Laws! Do you really think I must follow yours?”
Theo wasn’t sure how to respond. Zeus just laughed, the sound a drumming roar. “I do not need to remain in the ancient world to be the King of the Gods,” he boomed. “I can bring the ancient world with me.”
He strode right past Theo and onto the Brooklyn Bridge.
The Athenian army marched through after him.
Chapter 56
GIANT KILLER
Mere seconds after he’d sprinted off, Hermes returned through the mists of Tartarus with Persephone, Demeter, and Hestia in tow.
Selene looked beyond them, searching desperately. “Where’s the Smith?”
“Patience,” her brother chided.
She felt Hephaestus come before she saw him step from the mist. She was there to meet him when he emerged, tall and glorious and alive, walking with no hint of a limp. He carried her golden javelin in his fist.
She couldn’t resist clasping him in her arms for just an instant, the strong planes of his chest hard against her, the muscles of his back rippling beneath her hands. His breathing quickened.
“You came.” His voice was the one unchanged part of him. It still rumbled deep enough to send a low thrum through his chest and into hers.
“Of course.” She pushed away, unable to say more. Not here, among the shadows and dread. She simply handed her friend his hammer. “Philippe asked me to make sure you had this.”
Hephaestus looked down at his familiar weapon, and something of Flint passed across his face. Not the bitter, angry man who’d turned away from the world, but the doting stepfather who had found room in his heart for his wife’s bastard.
Hera—no longer the dowdy Aunt June—stood beside her son. A sheen of sweat coated her white arms; her inky hair hung lank around her regal face. “Please,” she begged Selene. Her wide eyes were shadowed with unspeakable horrors. “Get us out of here.”
“We’re going.” Selene nodded. “Before the giants sniff us out.”
As if in response, a monster bugled from somewhere in the distance. Selene loosed her golden arrow, aiming into the darkness and trusting the supernatural weapon to find its mark. The bugling cut off an instant later. “That’s one down, but there’ll be more,” she said, reaching for her quiver. “And I’ve only got one more hawk-feather arrow. So unless the giants are susceptible to plague …” Her fingertips brushed the fletching of one of her twin’s silver arrows. To her surprise, music floated from the quiver, so sweet and lovely it could only be a tune composed by Apollo himself.
“They’re not all plague arrows,” Hephaestus said. �
��I made different arrows for Apollo’s different attributes. Here in Tartarus, the shafts have their power back. That one sings.”
Selene scowled. “Awesome. That’s not going to be much help defeating a horde of giants. We need to leave. Right now.”
Athena gave a solemn nod of assent. She untied the rope from around her waist and handed the dangling end to Demeter. “Climb. As fast as you can. I won’t be able to hold off Typhoeus forever.” She walked to the edge of the swirling dark and lifted her spear above her shield.
“What the hell are you doing?” Selene demanded.
“Calling Typhoeus and the other giants to me. I will fight them while you escape.”
“That’s your wise plan? You won’t survive. Not alone.”
Athena just lifted her chin a little higher—but she didn’t disagree.
Demeter, still standing with the rope in one hand, gave a mournful sigh. “She’s sacrificing herself.”
“Not on my watch,” Selene insisted angrily. “You’re not Mary or Jesus or some other Christian martyr, Athena. You’re the Destroyer of Giants, not their prey.”
Athena rounded on her. “Do you have a better idea?”
Selene didn’t. But she wasn’t about to admit that. “We need to get up there fast. Before the Storm Giant even knows we’re coming.”
“Then we fly,” Hermes offered.
Every god turned to stare at the Trickster.
“We don’t do anything,” Selene snarled. “I told you—you don’t get to come.”
Persephone stepped forward and slapped Hermes hard across the face. “That’s for my husband. You still helped Father, even after you knew what he’d done.”
Aphrodite charged forward next, ready to rip Hermes to shreds for what had happened to her lover Mars. Hermes didn’t flinch, didn’t try to defend himself. Once again, it was Athena who stepped in front. She looked at Aphrodite, then Selene.
“Are you without blame? What did you do when our kin were pulled into Tartarus?” She slammed a fist against her own chest, turning the accusation on herself. “What did I do? Nothing. June and Philippe tried to save Flint—June lost her freedom and Philippe nearly lost his life in the process.” Hephaestus groaned at the news, his knuckles white on the haft of his hammer.
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