A Touch of Chaos (40 page)

Dionysus sat with his legs crossed, staring into the fire. It took Medusa a few seconds, but she finally sat opposite him.

“So who are you?” Medusa asked.

He glanced at her but returned his gaze to the fire. “My name is Dionysus,” he said.

“Dionysus,” she repeated.

“I'm sure you would have preferred an Olympian rescuer,” he said. “Unfortunately, they are all busy trying to kill a sociopath.”

“I didn't say that,” she said. “I just asked your name.”

“Oh,” he said and then fell quiet.

“How much do you know about me?” she asked.

“Enough,” he said. “I have been looking for you for a while.”

“Why?”

“When I first heard about you, the rumor was you could turn men to stone with a single glance,” he paused. Now that he had seen her, he understood where that rumor had come from. The thought made him uncomfortable.

“So you wanted me for this power you think I have?”

“Initially,” he said. “But then everyone found out about you, and suddenly, you were in danger. I couldn't just…let you fall into the wrong hands.”

“Because of my power, you mean.”

Dionysus studied her. “I know you are resentful,” he said. “But without the rumor of your power, I wouldn't have known about you, and I wouldn't be here now trying to save you.”

She said nothing.

“Anyway, I had hoped to have you join my maenads.”

“Maenads?”

“They're…mostly my friends,” he said. “They're women who have fled from bad situations and need protection or a chance to start again.”

“That almost sounds too good to be true,” she said.

“They are,” he said, and then he shook his head. “I'm not sure where I'd be without them.”

Especially Naia and Lilaia, who had been with him the longest. They had shown him what it meant to be cared for. They had fed him and clothed him, but they had also listened and encouraged him. When he thought he was going to be taken under by madness, they were there to pull him out again. They had seen each other at their worst, which had only encouraged their best.

“I'm not sure how I got here,” said Medusa.

“You mean on this island?”

“Here, at this point in my life,” she explained. “I wanted to be a priestess.”

“For which god?”

“Athena,” she said. “I was studying at her temple in New Athens until I was taken.”

“Taken?”

“I was walking home at night after leaving the temple when I was shoved into a car and bound. They took me to a hotel.” She paused, her chest rising and falling fast.

“You don't have to tell me,” Dionysus said.

It took her a moment to speak again.

“I thought…for some reason, I thought because I was a priestess, someone might find me. I prayed to Athena. I begged her. She never came.”

“I'm sorry,” Dionysus said.

She shrugged. “It was a hard lesson to learn, that nothing comes from devotion.”

He hoped in time, she would learn otherwise, but he didn't say that aloud because he knew those words were useless here.

“Sleep,” he said instead. “I will keep watch over you.”

Dionysus woke when he inhaled sand.

Choking, he sat up and began to cough. His eyes watered, and his chest and throat burned. When he was mostly recovered, he looked across the dying fire at Medusa.

“You are lucky I can't sleep,” she said.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she stood, brushing the sand from her clothes. “We're in Mycenae, by the way. Not Poseidon's territory.”

“What?” he asked, confused.

“We're in Mycenae,” she repeated.

“We can't be,” he said. “I should be able to teleport.”

“Well, he says otherwise.” Medusa pointed to a man who was a few feet down the shore, pushing a cart of random goods.

Dionysus ran after him. “Sir! Sir!”

The man paused and turned to face Dionysus. He had wild hair and a large, wiry beard. “Ah, yes, sir! Can I interest you in a hat? Or a Mycenaean shell necklace? Made from the finest shells!”

“Mycenae?” Dionysus repeated, but even the hat was embroidered with the words Mycenaean Greek.

Dionysus tried to teleport to New Athens again, but nothing happened. Something was wrong. He should be able to teleport if this was New Greece.

“Do you want the hat or not?” the man asked, frustrated.

“Is there something happening in New Athens?” Dionysus asked.

“That depends,” said the man. “How much money do you have?”

Dionysus summoned his thyrsus and pointed it at the man's neck. He dropped the hat and necklace as he put up his hands.

“Look, I don't want any trouble. I'm just trying to sell my shells.”

“I'll tell you what,” Dionysus said. “You tell me what's going on in New Athens, and you get to continue selling your shells.”

“There's not much information coming out that way,” said the man. “They're saying there was a huge earthquake, and the entire city just broke off into the ocean. At first, we all thought it was Poseidon, but now they're saying his son is responsible.”

“Theseus?” Dionysus asked.

“Yeah! That's the one. Personally, haven't heard much about him, but if he can take over a whole city…fuck…he must be powerful.”

Fuck indeed.

And if it was true, it meant the gods had failed to kill him during the funeral games.

“Thank you,” said Dionysus. He pulled his thyrsus away and then bent to pick up the hat, shoving a handful of coins at the man's chest before turning to Medusa.

“Hey! You sure you don't want something else from the cart?” the man called.

Dionysus ignored him.

“Nice pinecone,” Medusa said as he approached.

“Close your eyes,” he said before releasing his magic in one sweeping blast. He teleported them to the border of Attica.

When they arrived, Medusa doubled over and vomited, but Dionysus was too distracted by the scene in front of him to ask if she was all right, because floating miles away from the jagged coastline was New Athens.

A strange, strained quiet settled between the gods, heavy with shock. It was a quiet Hades knew well, one he had often been responsible for but had rarely felt until Persephone. It was almost like she had taught him how to grieve—first for his mother and now for Apollo, who had come to mean more to him because of how much he meant to Persephone.

“We should prepare funeral rites,” Hecate said.

Hades knew why she suggested it. The sooner she began, the faster Apollo would make it across the Styx, the sooner everyone would see him again.

Artemis's gaze snapped to Hecate's, her words slipping between clenched teeth. “If you touch him, I will kill you.”

“There has been too much death already,” said Hecate. “Do not threaten more.”

The goddess dissolved into tears. It was strange to see her like this and harder to watch. When Artemis wasn't
stoic, she was vengeful. There was no in-between—except for now.

“Please,” she begged. “Do not take him away.”

Hades stepped forward and knelt, his face level with hers.

“Without rites, he cannot rest,” he said. “Let Hecate honor him so that you can meet him at the Styx.”

“You will let me see him?” she asked.

“I swear it,” he said.

She took a few more quivery breaths, looking down at Apollo's charred body. Hades did not know how she did it—how she held him so tightly when he looked nothing like he did in life.

“I'll see you soon,” she told Apollo and bent to kiss his forehead.

When she released him, Hecate took him away.

“I don't understand,” said Hermes. He sat at the bottom of the staircase, staring at nothing, his gaze unseeing. It was how everyone looked—completely lost. “I thought Theseus was vulnerable.”

“Dionysus said he was slow to heal,” said Hades.

“But even gods can be wounded,” said Persephone. “Theseus's skin was like…
steel
.”

“Then he has become invincible,” said Hades.

“But…
how
?” Persephone asked.

“Hera,” said Aphrodite. “She has a tree of golden apples that, with one taste, can make mortals immortal and the vulnerable invulnerable. It is obvious he has had a taste of the apple.”

“It sounds like we all need to eat from that fucking tree,” said Hermes.

“I suppose that depends on what you value
more—your immortality or invincibility,” said Aphrodite. “The tree will take one to grant the other.”

“Perhaps Theseus plans to eat another apple when all of this is done,” said Artemis.

“We can only hope. It is rumored that partaking of the tree twice means death.”

There was a beat of silence.

“So you mean he cannot be wounded at all?” asked Persephone.

“No,” said Hades, and if they could not pierce his skin, they could not even poison him with Hydra venom.

“Even Achilles had a weakness,” said Aphrodite.

“Theseus has many weaknesses,” said Hades. “The question is, which one will kill him?”

As promised, Hades took Artemis to the Styx, though she was not alone in welcoming Apollo to the Underworld. Persephone and Hermes followed, and so did Aphrodite, Hephaestus, Harmonia, and Sybil. Thanatos arrived shortly after, followed by Tyche and Hypnos, who crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing the crowd of souls who waited with fragrant laurel and hyacinth and played sweet music on lyres.

“Where was all this when I died?” he demanded.

“Not to be rude, Hypnos, but you're not that popular,” said Hermes.

“That
is
rude…ass!”

“Calling me an ass isn't exactly
nice
either,” said Hermes.

“I wouldn't have called you an ass if you hadn't said I wasn't popular. I'm popular. Everyone likes to sleep!”

“No offense, but do you know how much I could accomplish if I didn't have to sleep?”

“I suppose we'll find out,” said Hypnos, smiling with malice.

Hades rolled his eyes. “Fuck, they are exhausting,” he muttered.

Persephone's soft laugh drew his attention. “I don't know. I think they are kind of cute.”

“Try living with it for an eternity,” he said.

“I hope I do,” she replied.

Hades was surprised by her words, and he instantly felt guilty for his. It had been an insensitive thing to say given not only Apollo's death but also Tyche's and Hypnos's.

“You will,” he said. “You have no choice.”

She smiled at him, though there was no amusement in her eyes.

“You know that is not how Fate works,” she said.

“I know what I will do if anything were to happen to you,” he said. “The promise of that future alone should keep the Fates at bay.”

He knew she was not convinced, and in some ways, he did not blame her. From where they stood right now, it was hard to envision a future.

Suddenly, there was a gleam on the horizon, and Charon's ferry came into view. From this distance, he could see Apollo standing at the front of the boat, the lantern on the bow swinging from the choppy waters of the Styx.

Hades wondered how the ferryman was handling the deaths of the Divine. In all his years ferrying souls, he had brought one god here, and that had been Pan, Hermes's son.

The souls cheered, and Persephone left his side to be nearer to the pier, though she was careful not to overtake Artemis, whose feet were barely on the dock. Hades worried she might fall in and be taken to the bottom of the river by the dead, but Apollo knocked her back, rocking Charon's boat as he launched himself at his sister and pulled her into a tight hug.

Charon docked his boat and came to Hades.

“There are hundreds of souls at the gates,” he said. “What is happening up there?”

“Chaos,” Hades answered. He had no other way to explain it.

He had expected Theseus to plan something during the funeral games but nothing on the scale he had managed today. Theseus had wielded the lightning bolt.

That alone was enough to convince the people of New Greece that his abilities exceeded those of the gods, but then he had murdered Apollo.

In that instant, Theseus had essentially replaced two gods.

And that had only been the start, because once Apollo had fallen and Zeus was revealed, Theseus called to his father, Poseidon, commanding him to make the earth tremble and the seas shift, bringing about a disaster Hades had only just begun to comprehend.

Suddenly, it was not just the gods who were under Theseus's threat but the whole of New Greece.

“If you do not do something soon, the entire world will reside here within your realm, and then you will have to worry about what Theseus has planned for you.”

“I already do,” said Hades.

His gaze shifted to the souls and gods gathered to welcome Apollo, and he wondered how he had come to care for so many people, but one look at Persephone and he knew—it was her.

She was the thread that bound them, the one who had brought them all together, and now he would do anything to protect them.

Except he was already failing, as was evident by Apollo's death.

“You are far too happy to be dead, Apollo!” Artemis said, but everyone knew what she really meant—
you are far too happy to leave me
.

His features softened. “Do not mourn for me, dear sister. I have wanted this for a long time.”

“But why? Why would you want this?” she asked, stretching out her arms.

Apollo's gaze followed, shifting over the landscape of Hades's realm before he met her gaze again. “Because it is the only way to have peace.”

Hades could feel Artemis's confusion. She did not understand the burdens on Apollo's soul. His regrets went deep. Hers did not.

When Apollo moved on to Persephone, she threw her arms around his neck and held him tight. Hades could feel her pain and longed to comfort her. But Apollo would not release her, seeming to convey all that their friendship had meant to him in a simple embrace. When she pulled away, he smiled.

“Don't cry, Seph,” he said. “Nothing has to change. Not even our bargain.”

And with that teasing statement, the energy around them lightened.

“Oh, fucking Fates,” Hades grumbled. “How has that not
ended
?”

“Jealous, Hades? I was thinking that when things calm down, Seph and I could go on a picnic.”

“Good luck,” said Hades. “You have no magic to summon her.”

“Then I guess I'll have to do it the mortal way and knock on your door.”

“I will throw you in Tartarus,” Hades shot back with a smirk, grateful for Apollo's levity and the relief it seemed to be bringing Persephone.

“That is a steep punishment for a knock. You should just be glad I offered. I tend to prefer just appearing where I'm not wanted.”

“A picnic sounds nice, Apollo,” Persephone said, wiping the tears from her face and beaming at the god.

He grinned. “Did you hear that, Hades? It's a date!”

Hades glared as Apollo moved on to greet Hermes, ruffing up his golden hair.

“Remind me to show Apollo a few spots for his upcoming picnic,” said Hades as Persephone returned to his side.

“You will not send him into the Forest of Despair,” she said sharply.

“What?” he asked. “It would be funny.”

She leaned close, letting her hands slide up his chest. “You know what else is funny? Blue balls.”

“No,” he said. “That is cruel.”

“And so is the forest.”

He sighed. “Fine.”

“I knew you'd see it my way,” Persephone said.

She rose on the tips of her toes, and Hades bent to
kiss her when cheers suddenly erupted. They looked to see Apollo and Hyacinth surrounded by souls, locked in each other's arms, mouths pressed together in a passionate kiss.

Persephone took a breath. She pressed both hands to her heart.

“I did not think any good would come of this,” she said.

Hades shifted uncomfortably, torn between telling her the truth and letting her believe a lie—except she didn't give him a choice between the two. She looked up at him, already suspicious of his silence.

“Hades?”

The way she said his name, half question, half pleading. It made his throat feel tight.

“Tell me he will not have to drink from the Lethe.”

“No, he will not,” he said. “But Hyacinth cannot stay.”

Persephone blinked. “What do you mean he cannot stay?”

“It is time for his soul to reincarnate.”

He realized it was terrible timing—not only because Apollo had just arrived in the Underworld but because the world was a terrible place—but there was nothing he could do.

The color drained from her face.

“Hades,” Persephone whispered.

“I know what you would ask of me,” he said. “But this is Hyacinth's choice to make.”

She did not argue or beg, but she blinked away tears as she gazed at the two lovers.

“Perhaps he will change his mind now that Apollo has arrived.”

But Hades knew not even she believed those words.