A Touch of Chaos (25 page)

Hades didn't even try. He just laughed, a deep sound that made her stomach flutter as she realized how much she had missed it.

“Laugh all you want,” said Hermes. “But you're going to heal this.”

It took Persephone a moment to regain her composure, and while she felt bad for Hermes, she couldn't deny that it had actually felt good to laugh—deeply, fully.

It had been a long time.

“Hermes, let me help,” she said, taking a step toward him just as a feather struck the sand near her foot.

“Oh no,” she said and looked up to see a horde of birds speeding toward them.

She covered her head, and Hermes screamed. It was shrill and sharp, worse than the sound he'd made at Zofie's funeral. It twisted through her whole body, grated against every bone. She was so focused on the sound, it took her a moment to realize the birds hadn't attacked, and when she looked up, she saw they had begun to swarm, darting in every direction as if the sound of Hermes's scream had made them go mad.

His wail slowly subsided.

“Wh-what's happening?” he asked.

“It appears Ares's birds find you just as annoying as I do,” Hades said.

Hermes glared. “I think what you meant was ‘Thank you, Hermes. I had no idea you would be so helpful when I forced you to come to this island that is inhabited by deadly assassin birds,
and
by the way,
I've been chased by them twice before
.'”

Hades opened his mouth to respond, but Persephone spoke over him, knowing whatever was on the tip of her husband's tongue would not be helpful. “That's exactly what he meant, Hermes,” she said, glaring at Hades as she spoke. “Thank you.”

“At least someone appreciates my help,” Hermes said.

“Fucking Fates,” Hades muttered, rolling his eyes. “Let's get out of here before those birds regroup.”

They crossed what remained of the shore, heading for the thicket of trees ahead.

“No, no, nope,” Hermes said as they neared. “I am not going in there.”

“Scared, Hermes?” Persephone asked.

“I just ruined my vocal cords to save us from those fucking birds, and you want to wander through their home!”

“The birds don't live in the trees, Hermes,” said Hades, who had not stopped walking.

Hermes's frustration vanished suddenly. “Oh,” he said and paused. “Well, where do they live then?”

“In the cliff side,” Hades replied.

“Oh.”

Hermes started to walk again, and Persephone fell into step beside him as they crossed the tree line.

“When did he become such an expert on birds?” Hermes muttered.

Persephone smiled. “I thought you were a warrior, Hermes,” she teased.

“Nature is a different kind of battlefield, Sephy.”

They were not beneath the cover of the trees long when they came to a sheer wall of rock. At first, she thought they were going to have to climb it, but then she noticed a narrow path worn into the side at a slow incline.

Seeing it brought about a deep sense of dread. It seemed too easy, like an invitation to something far more terrible, but she said nothing as they made their way up the cliff, which took them high above the trees, giving them a view of the endless ocean. From here, the world looked so beautiful, and she mourned that it was ruled by someone so terrible.

When they came to the top of the cliff, any feelings
she had of admiration vanished, replaced by a sense of unease. It trickled down her spine and made her hair stand on end. She tried to keep from shivering but failed. The wind was colder here too.

Before them, a field stretched for miles. It was barren save for golden spikes sticking out of the ground. They looked like wheat. Far in the distance, on the opposite side of the island, was a great oak, and there, glimmering even in the grayish light, hung the Golden Fleece.

Persephone's heart rose into her throat. The urge to teleport across the field overwhelmed her. She curled her fingers into fists to keep herself from giving in.

“I know you're all about this hospitality thing,” said Hermes. “But you could have at least arrived on
that
side of the island.”

Hades did not respond. He was looking at the ground.

“What is it?” Persephone asked.

“Earthbound warriors,” Hades said.

“You mean the wheat?” she asked.

“That isn't wheat,” he said. “It is the tip of a spear.”

The tip of a spear
, and there were
hundreds
.

“You mean…they are buried beneath this field?”

“They were sown,” he said. “With dragon's teeth. They are called Spartoi, the earth-born.”

“Well, how threatening can they be underground?” Hermes asked. He started to bend and touch one of the spears.

“Don't,” Hades snapped, and Hermes snatched his hand back, holding it to his chest as if he'd been slapped. “If you touch them, you will awaken them and find out just how much of a threat they can be.”

“You could have led with that lifesaving information,” Hermes said, rising to his feet.

“Watch your feet,” Hades said, taking the first step into the field.

Persephone followed. It would have been easier had the warriors been sown in straight lines. Instead, they were staggered, which made crossing far more tedious.

“This is like hopscotch,” Hermes said.

Persephone paused to look at the god, who was jumping from space to space on one leg, then the other.

“Except if you lose, you are speared to death,” said Hades.

The delight that had lit Hermes's face vanished.

“You ruin everything,” he said.

“Just reminding you of your mortality,” Hades said.

Persephone caught sight of his smirk before he turned his attention back to the field. She also continued, looking up now and then to gauge how long they had until they reached the oak and growing more and more disappointed when it did not seem to be any closer.

“Gods, this is taking forever,” she muttered, and then her stomach rumbled.

“I told you to bring a snack,” said Hermes.

She looked at the god, who was already munching on some kind of granola bar. He reached into his pouch and pulled out a second.

“Here, catch!”

Before she could say anything, the bar was already flying through the air. It hit her chest, and she tried to catch it, but it fell to the ground—right beside one of the golden spears.

“Oh, fuck,” Hermes said. “Did it touch?”

“I don't know, Hermes,” Persephone snapped. “Why didn't you just wait?”

“Well, excuse me for sharing!” he said. “I thought you were hungry.”

They were all still and silent for a few minutes, waiting to see what would happen. When nothing did, Persephone finally let herself breathe, but the sound of Hades's voice put her on edge.

“Persephone,” he said. “Come to me.”

She met his gaze. His expression was dark, and his body was turned fully toward her, his hand outstretched like he was ready to pull her into his arms.

She took one step before a hand shot out of the dirt and clamped down around her ankle, jerking her to the ground. She screamed as terror took root in her body. If she fell, she would be impaled. She teleported out of the creature's grasp to Hades's side.

All around them, warriors sprang from the ground, breaking free of their slumber and the earth, fully armored and armed.

Persephone looked at Hades.

“I think I'm over hospitality,” she said.

Just like the warriors who had sprung from the ground, so did her magic. Vines erupted like snakes, slithering around the bodies of the soldiers and their weapons, dragging them back to the earth. Some broke free but were quickly restrained again. The more they struggled, the faster the vines moved until the entire plain was covered in thick, leafy greenery. The spears stuck out of the ground haphazardly.

Hades looked at her, and there was a gleam of pride in his eyes that she loved.

“Nice save, Sephy,” Hermes said as he approached, pulling out another bar from his pack. He started to open it when she snatched it away. “Hey! It's my last one.”

“I think,” Hades said, “what you meant to say was ‘Thank you for saving my life, Persephone. If it wasn't for my idiocy, we wouldn't even have been in that situation to begin with. As a token of my appreciation, here is a snack.'”

Hermes slammed his lips together and crossed his arms over his chest. “You're never on my side,” he said.

Persephone tried not to laugh, but Hades sighed and started across the field, arming himself with a spear as he went. Persephone followed. The ground was now springy under her feet, making it a little harder to walk on. When her stomach growled again, she broke the bar and offered Hermes half.

“Thanks, Sephy,” he said, and then he hesitated. “I am thankful you saved us from my idiocy.”

“I know, Hermes,” she said and smiled at the god.

“You're a really great friend, Sephy,” he said. “Sometimes I don't think I deserve—”

His words faltered, and so did Persephone's steps as the ground began to shift beneath them. There were several crisp snaps as warrior after warrior broke free from her bindings, and before they could flee, they were surrounded.

“Maybe stronger vines next time, Sephy,” said Hermes.

She was already trying to plan her next move when Hades materialized beside them and flung out his hand. Beneath his magic, the warriors turned to dust.

Persephone tilted her head back and looked up at Hades, who was peering down at her.

“Fuck hospitality,” he said, and then they teleported and came to stand before the oak tree where the Golden Fleece hung.

She had known from a distance that the tree would be grand, but nothing could have prepared her for its greatness. The oak was massive, with thick, long-reaching limbs that wound and spiraled, some so heavy they had bowed beneath their own weight and now touched the ground.

But what stunned Persephone was the dragon-like creature whose body was coiled around the base of the tree like a serpent. It was covered in shimmering scales that gleamed like fire. Its eyes were open and unblinking, ever watchful.

Nearby, beneath the fern-covered boughs of the tree, stood Ares.

He was large and imposing, his horns only adding to his dreadful appearance. They were long and sharp, curving behind his head. He wore armor that burned gold and a helm that matched. There was no kindness in his face, only malice.

“You killed my warriors,” said Ares.

“They will be reborn,” said Hades.

Ares's mouth hardened. “You come to my island uninvited to steal from me,” said the God of War. “And you insult me by harming what is mine.”

“We have not come to steal,” Persephone said, angered by his accusation, though she regretted drawing his furious attention.

“So you have come to ask for a favor? Even worse, traitor goddess.”

“We are not here for ourselves,” Persephone said. “We are here for Harmonia. Aphrodite's sister is dying.”

At her words, a little bit of Ares's composure slipped, his angry eyes flashing with concern before he recovered and seemed to dig further into his aggression.

“You lie,” he said, looking at Hades. “I can smell the blood.”

“I did not lie,” Persephone said between her teeth. “Harmonia is dying. The Golden Fleece is the only thing that will save her!”

“And your lover, it seems,” said Ares. “Tell me, why should I help you?”

“Because you have no choice, Ares,” said Hermes. “I have come to collect my favor, one of many, might I add, that you owe me from all the times I saved your ass.”

“As helpful as that would be, I am not inclined to grant it.”

“You would risk divine retribution?” Persephone asked.

“Currently, Hermes is mortal, and by divine law, I am not obligated to uphold a promise made to a traitor.”

Persephone looked at Hades for confirmation of his words, but he wasn't looking at her. He was staring darkly at Ares.

“Now you are just being an ass,” said Hermes.

“I have no wish to make the King of the Gods angry and no desire to lose my power,” Ares said.

“Even if it means hurting Aphrodite?” Persephone asked.

Ares was still, and she noticed his throat constrict as he swallowed.

“If you think I won't tell her you refused, you're wrong,” Persephone said. “She will hate you forever.”

Ares was quiet, and then he shifted his spear into his other hand.

“Who said you were going back?” Ares asked. Summoning his shield, he teleported.

Hades shifted, knocking Persephone to the ground as Ares appeared before them, stabbing his spear toward Hades's face.

“Sephy!” Hermes raced toward her, pulling her away from the embroiled gods as she scrambled to her feet.

Hades summoned his bident, thrusting his weapon at Ares, who blocked the blow with his shield. The sound of the weapons meeting was like a lightning strike, and it seemed to rouse the dragon-like creature from its strange, open-eyed slumber. It growled and then rose, slithering higher up the tree, smoke rising from its nostrils and mouth.

Neither Hades nor Ares seemed to notice as they fought. It was hard to track them, they moved so fast, each stab more furious than the last, and while Persephone understood the source of Hades's rage, she did not understand why Ares had chosen to fight them over aiding Aphrodite and her sister—the one goddess he was said to be closest to, the one who had shown him kindness in the face of the Olympians' resentment.

Was he seeking the approval of his father? The esteem of other Olympians? Or had he merely been born like this, furious and bloodthirsty, always choosing battle over peace?

As the two fought, Persephone's attention was drawn to the Golden Fleece and the dragon guarding it. Its eyes were fixed on Hades and Ares, its throat glowing brighter the longer the two struck at each other. It seemed to be
biding its time, and Persephone did not want to find out for what.