A Touch of Chaos (31 page)

Persephone's eyes grew brighter as she spoke, and she glared at Aphrodite and then Ariadne. Hades straightened, his slacks suddenly too tight.

Fuck, his wife was hot.

“There are other ways to discredit Theseus,” said Hades. “We must choose something that will force him to show his true nature publicly.”

“I can investigate his background,” Sybil suggested. “Perhaps there is something in his past that will—”

“You won't find anything,” said Ariadne.

“No man is without secrets,” Aphrodite countered.

“Do you not think I have tried to dig up dirt on this man?” Ariadne snapped.

“I imagine you have put in the effort, but you are only a mortal after all.”

“I might be mortal, but I know this man,” she said. “If he has secrets, they die with the people he told.”

“You're still alive,” Aphrodite countered.

“I'm alive because I can weave his fucking nets.”

“
You
wove the nets?” Dionysus asked, just as surprised as everyone else—except Persephone, apparently, because when Hades looked at her to gauge her reaction, her face had turned rosy with guilt.

“Why do you think he wants me so badly?” Ariadne asked.

There was a beat of silence.

“I could hold funeral games,” said Aphrodite. “For Adonis, Tyche, Hypnos, and those who died during the attack at Talaria Stadium. It would force the world to see and acknowledge what the Impious and Triad have done and take a side.”

Funeral games were almost always held in the aftermath of great loss and were a series of athletic competitions. While they were meant to distract from grief, these would likely only encourage a deeper divide between the Faithful and the Impious.

At the mention of the stadium, Persephone placed a hand over her shoulder. She had been shot during the scuffle, and while she had healed, Hades would never forget the sight of her blood.

“No,” Hephaestus said immediately.

There was a finality to his tone that told Hades there
would likely be consequences to contradicting him. He was about to suggest that he could host when Aphrodite turned to glare at her husband.

“You are only saying that because I mentioned Adonis.”

Hephaestus did not flinch. His large arms were crossed over his chest.

“You have already been targeted by Triad,” said Hephaestus. “If you host the games, you will only draw more attention to yourself, and you are powerless.”

“The point is to force them to act publicly,” said Aphrodite. “They wanted my attention, and now they have it.”

“You will not,” he said. “I will not let you.”

“
You will not let me
?” Aphrodite repeated. “Since
when
have I required your permission for anything?”

“This isn't up for discussion,” he said.

“What is this? Some feeble attempt to act like my husband? You let me out of those obligations a long time ago, remember?”

Hephaestus towered over her, narrowing his eyes. “Do not act as if you were not eager to be free of me.”

“You call this free?”

“Why don't you both just fuck and get it over with?” asked Hermes.

Aphrodite whirled on Hermes. “I will
murder
you!”

“Point and case,” said the god.

“It's case
in
point, Hermes,” said Sybil.

“If we hold funeral games for Tyche and Hypnos,” said Apollo, “we communicate to the entire world that Theseus has found a way to murder us all.”

“That is better than letting Theseus do it,” said
Sybil. “At least then you have control over the narrative.”

“And what narrative is that?” Apollo asked. “That Theseus is more powerful than the Olympians?”

“That Theseus murdered innocent gods,” Sybil replied.

“If that is true, then has he fulfilled the prophecy of the ophiotaurus?” asked Dionysus.

“We will know come nightfall,” said Hades.

If the prophecy had been satisfied, then the ophiotaurus would return to the sky as a constellation, but Hades was not hopeful.

“Holding funeral games may help our favor with mortals, but it does not solve the problem of Theseus,” said Dionysus.

“Unless he dies during the games,” said Apollo.

“That would be a violation of the rules,” said Harmonia.

Which was true. It was traditional for warring sides to declare a cease-fire. The games were supposed to be a time to celebrate life, not encourage more violence.

“Given the circumstances, the last thing I would concern myself with are rules,” said Hades.

“I thought you were worried about public perception,” said Sybil. “If you kill Theseus during a cease-fire, you will only prove him right.”

“Do not make the mistake of thinking Theseus will fight fair,” Hades said.

“Can we be sure he will even attend the games?” Persephone asked.

“He will attend,” said Ariadne. “He will want to defend himself against Aphrodite's accusations.”

Hades could feel Hephaestus's anger spike. That was exactly what the god feared.

A tense silence followed.

“So this is your plan?” asked Dionysus. “Execute Theseus publicly and then what? He has an army of demigods with weapons that can kill us.”

“Then we attend armed and assume the games will end in battle.”

No one spoke, not in favor or opposition, but Hades knew they had to do something. Theseus's plans were already in motion. They had been from the moment he'd requested a favor from Hades in exchange for Sisyphus. That favor was his access to the Underworld—to his helm and to Hypnos. Zeus's slumber was just another phase, and now that Theseus was in possession of the lightning bolt, Hades dreaded discovering what came next.

He hoped he didn't have to find out.

“Make the announcement, Aphrodite,” he said.

The Goddess of Love cast an angry gaze at her husband before departing. Harmonia followed, and so did Sybil. Slowly, the others left, save Hephaestus, who lingered, his eyes trained on Hades.

“I will leave you,” Persephone said.

Hades hated to lose her warmth, but he did not argue.

Once she was gone and the door was closed, Hephaestus spoke.

“You would have never let your wife risk herself in such a way,” said the god. “Why let mine?”

“What I know about our wives is that they will do what they want despite our wishes,” said Hades, though
it had taken him too long to realize that. “I'd rather walk in Persephone's shadow, ready to save her at the first sign of a threat, than have her keep secrets. I know you feel the same.”

Hephaestus's jaw ticked, and he looked away.

“If Aphrodite could become the sun, she would, just to be rid of my shadow,” said the god.

“That is not true,” Hades said.

Hephaestus met Hades's gaze. “We will agree to disagree,” he said with a small, sad smile. “Come to Lemnos tomorrow. I will arm the gods.”

With that, Hephaestus vanished.

Dionysus returned to Bakkheia with Ariadne, Phaedra, and the baby.

He chose to manifest underground, in the tunnels beneath his club, aware of the possibility that it too might be targeted by Theseus.

When they arrived, they found that the maenads had convened in the common area. They were dressed in black tactile bodysuits and armed to the teeth.

Naia was speaking, and Dionysus recognized the tone.

She was preparing for a fight.

“Earlier today, Dionysus's home was subject to an attack. Upon arrival, several of our own were found dead with no sign of Dionysus, Ariadne, her sister, or her child. We believe this attack was orchestrated by Theseus, though footage pulled from the premises shows some sort of invisible force—”

As Naia spoke, she scanned the room, and when her
gaze fell on him, she ceased to speak. Slowly, the other maenads turned to look at them. Naia cut through the crowd and threw her arms around Dionysus.

“It's nice to know I am missed,” he said, hugging her back.

Naia pulled away and hit his shoulder; her eyes were watering. “I…we didn't know what happened! Your home. It's…”

“Destroyed. I know,” he said, and then his eyes shifted to the other maenads. “The demigod who attacked is named Perseus. He was wearing the Helm of Darkness and carrying a weapon laced with venom from the Hydra. It proved to be a deadly combination. I…almost didn't make it.”

The assassins exchanged uneasy glances. “The Helm of Darkness?” Lilaia asked. “How do we fight an invisible assailant?”

“I don't have an answer,” Dionysus said. “I was lucky. Ariadne came back for me.” She met his gaze, her eyes wide with surprise before melting into a warmer expression, one that made him want to take her into his arms and kiss her, but instead, he forced his attention back to the maenads. “But I think we all know Theseus will strike again.”

“No, please,” said Phaedra. She pushed forward into the open space before them, holding her baby tightly. “I am worth none of this—”

“Phaedra!” Ariadne sounded both shocked and angry.

“I can end this, Ari,” Phaedra said, and the hard part about her words was that Dionysus knew she was wrong.

“You can't end this,” he said. “Even if you return to
Theseus, he will still come for us, and there is no guessing what he might do to punish you.”

There was a moment of quiet, and then Naia spoke. “You are not responsible for Theseus's actions.”

“I left. I—”

“Fled,” said Ariadne. “You fled an
abuser
, Phaedra.”

“He wasn't—” She started to protest but glanced at Dionysus, swallowing her words. “How do you know Theseus was responsible for the attack on your house?”

“Phaedra!” Ariadne gasped, “Perseus
works
for Theseus.”

“You do not know that Theseus sent him,” Phaedra argued. “Perhaps Perseus acted on his own. It would make sense. Theseus would never threaten the life of his son.”

Her words did not even anger Dionysus, because he had expected them.

“Theseus would do anything to gain public favor.
He wants to be a god!
”

“He does not want to be a god,” she said. “He wants freedom and fairness—”

“If you really believe that, then you are a fool,” Ariadne snapped.

Phaedra paled. She looked just as stricken as Ariadne sounded. Then she glanced from side to side, seeming to remember they had an audience, and she fled.

For a few moments, Ariadne just stood there, stunned.

Dionysus thought about putting his hand on her shoulder, or maybe he should draw her close. He was not sure what would be appropriate, but before he could decide, Ariadne left, calling after her sister.

“I only hope he's dead before she manages to flee,” said Lilaia.

It was a harsh statement, but Dionysus agreed.

“We must prepare for anything,” he said. “Fortify the tunnels. I want all entrances monitored twenty-four hours a day. If you see something strange—if for any reason you sense something is wrong—raise the alarm.” The maenads nodded as he added, “Sleep with your weapons nearby. The Olympians are going to war.”

With their orders given, the maenads dispersed, save Naia, who pulled Dionysus aside.

“I have news for you,” she said.

“All right,” he said, dread seeping into the pit of his stomach.

“Hebe sent word this morning. She knows what happened to Medusa.”

Hebe was one of the maenads tasked with locating the gorgon, and the way Naia spoke now made Dionysus think the worst. He straightened. “What happened?”

“She was kidnapped by Tyrrhenian pirates,” Naia said. “They are holding her for ransom.”

While that was not the worst thing imaginable—the worst being death—it was a close second. He had a long history with the Tyrrhenian pirates that stretched back to ancient times, which meant that it did not matter if he could meet their ransom demand. They would not do business with him.

“
Fuck
.” He smoothed his hand over his head. “When was the ransom announced?”

“Just this morning,” she said.

“How do we know it is really her?”

There were few descriptions of the woman beyond
the fact that she was beautiful and that she could turn men to stone with a glance. As it turned out, her head had to be separated from her body for that power to work.

Now he feared the actual worst—that she was, in fact, dead.

Naia hesitated. “Well, we don't actually know,” she admitted. “But I do not think we can ignore the possibility that they are telling the truth. She was last seen on the shore of the Aegean.”

That was true. Even Poseidon—terrible bastard that he was—confirmed it.

I fucked her and left her
, he had said.
If I had known the value of her beautiful head, I'd have cut it off where she lay.

Dionysus's hands curled at the thought.

The God of the Sea was almost as great an enemy to him as Hera. Indeed, they had been rivals since ancient times. It had begun with Beroe, a nymph they had both loved, and now Ariadne, a woman Poseidon and his son Theseus seemed to be obsessed with.

“I have an idea,” said Naia.

“What is it?” Dionysus asked, turning to face her.

“Perhaps…it is time to consult your oracle,” she said.

“I do not have time to unravel a silly rhyme,” Dionysus said, immediately dismissing her suggestion. “And in case you've forgotten, my oracle is supposed to speak for
me
, not the other way around.”

“She is your oracle. She offers you prophecies as well!” Naia argued.

“Prophecy. Prediction.
Not certainty
, which is what we need right now.”

“Well, you have nothing right now, so which will it be?”

Dionysus ground his teeth.

“Do not be a child,” Naia said. “Just because you used to date—”

“We did not date,” Dionysus snapped.

“Oh, sorry.
Fucked
.”

He glared.

“Dionysus,” Naia said, her gaze both hard and pleading. “Think about what happens if Theseus gets his hands on Medusa.”

He didn't want to think about what would happen. He already knew. Theseus would decapitate her, and not only would another innocent woman die at his hands, but the demigod would also have another powerful weapon.

He scrubbed his face, “Fuck,” he said again under his breath before dropping his hands. “You will be okay?”

She knew what he was really asking. Was everything going to be okay?

“We'll be all right,” she said, smiling a little. “You have to do this. You have no choice.”

He swallowed, nodding.

“I'm…uh…going to tell Ariadne,” he said.

She would want to know where he was going—not for his sake but because their partnership had begun over their quest to locate the gorgon.

“Of course,” she said, but as Dionysus turned to go, she called after him. “Might I advise you not to take too long with your goodbyes.”

Dionysus held up his middle finger as he disappeared down the hall in search of Ariadne. He did not have to
look long, finding her sitting on the floor outside her room, her knees drawn up to her chest.

She was crying.

He knelt in front of her. “Hey,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“No,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “I feel awful. I should have never said those things to Phaedra.”

“You were not wrong,” he said.

“There is a time and a place,” she said. “And I chose wrong.”

“Come,” Dionysus said, rising to his feet. He held out his hand and helped her up, a rush of warmth spreading through his chest when she did not try to pull free of his hold. He led her to a modest bedroom at the end of the hall. “This is where I stay,” he said. “If you wish to give your sister some space, you can sleep here.”

When he met her gaze, he found her staring back.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He lifted his hand to her cheek.

“I hate seeing this pain in your eyes,” he said.

“I do not know myself without it,” she said.

Dionysus didn't know what to say, but her words made it hard for him to breathe.

“If I could take it away…”

“You would have to be death himself,” she said.

“Do not speak of such things,” he said.

“No? Even when I was the one who had to watch you nearly die?”

He stared at her for a moment and then asked, “Why did you come back?”

He had told her to go—ordered her to take her sister into the tunnels and not look back.

“I had to,” she said.

“You didn't. You could have done as I said. You could have escaped in the tunnels.”

“No, I couldn't,” she argued. “You risked everything to save my sister. You risked everything for me. Who would I be if I just left you?”

“Smart,” he said. “Really fucking smart.”

Then he pulled her close and kissed her, and while he would have liked to continue, he knew he had no time.

When he pulled away, he held her tightly in his grip.

“I must go,” he said. “We have word on Medusa's location.”

Ariadne's eyes widened. “Let me come with you.”

Dionysus felt his gaze soften at her request. He was surprised she'd made it, given that it meant leaving her sister.

“As much as I would like that,” he said, brushing her hair from her face, “Phaedra needs you.”

“She might need me,” Ariadne said. “But she does not want me.”

“That's the truth for tonight,” he said. “That will not be true tomorrow.”

“You intend to be gone long?”

“There is no intention behind it,” he said. “I will return as soon as I am able.”

He did not even know if his rescue mission would be successful. The pirates had announced Medusa's ransom on the black market, which meant that everyone who had been looking for her before would be after her now, and many of them—himself included—had no intention of actually paying their price.

Ariadne's gaze fell to his chest, her fingers twisting into his shirt.

“Please be safe,” she said, and he heard what she was really saying—
please don't leave me
.

He tilted her head back. “If you are here waiting for me, I will always come back.”

He kissed her again, harder this time, ignoring how it felt less like saying goodbye and more like the end.

Dionysus had temples all over New Greece, but the one he found himself standing before was located within the citadel of Perperikon in Thrace. Like the little city it overlooked, the temple was carved into the mountainside. Twenty-five steps led to a covered porch that was supported by a set of identical columns crowned with scroll-like patterns. The pediment was carved with an image of him surrounded by his frenzied followers, and it mimicked the merriment taking place in real time.