Ungodly Page 14

  She fights my gods for me.

  “They can’t hold you down anymore, Hermes,” she said. “They’re nothing.”

  Hermes swallowed hard. Sweat ran down his nose and he hadn’t even started trying to rise yet. He breathed deep, and felt Andie’s strength in his own guts. He raised his head and looked into Atropos’ eyes. He saw the way they blazed at Andie’s words.

  It’s true. They’re less. They’re not our gods anymore.

  He clenched his teeth and pushed hard against the weight on his shoulders.

  (STAY DOWN.)

  “No.” It might have been easier if he still had muscle in his legs, but cartilage and bone would have to do. He pushed and kept pushing, and the longer he did, the lighter he felt. He rose, hunched over, and inched his feet forward.

  “Go, Henry!” he shouted. “Climb!” The elation at getting his feet under him was so great that he laughed, even though just inching forward felt like walking on Jupiter. The Moirae were less, but they were still the Moirae. Atropos still held him down.

  But not on his knees.

  “Not like that, Achilles!” Hephaestus called up toward the third level. “You’ll never get to it that way. You have to go through the house!”

  Hermes looked up and saw Achilles dart through the doors on the third floor.

  “Hephaestus, you shit!” he shouted, and glared at his friend. Hephaestus said nothing, but winked slowly with his right eye. A real wink. Impossible to miss.

  * * *

  Henry didn’t look down. Even when he heard Achilles slamming his way through the opposite side of the house. Any minute he’d burst through the door on the fourth floor and start climbing for the shield. Henry needed to have it in his hands by then.

  Climbing the girders wasn’t that difficult. His balance was good, and better on adrenaline. But it wasn’t fast. The shield was still twenty feet and nine girders away. He braced in the center of a steel X and jumped across to an inverted T. His arms wrapped around the base. Just once, he allowed himself a glance to the ground and was rewarded by seeing it spin. Andie was in his ear, shouting encouragement. Hermes, too. They were still alive. He still had time.

  Across the house, Achilles bellowed. Something shattered that sounded like pottery, or plates. He was lost. His footsteps sounded across the third floor, back and forth and back again.

  Guess he didn’t pay attention on the tour. Or maybe he didn’t get one.

  Maybe Hephaestus hadn’t betrayed them after all. Henry crawled and climbed across three more girders. Then another. One foot, and one grip at a time. Until his hand closed on the edge of the shield.

  * * *

  The Moirae advanced, ready to put Hermes on his knees for good. He edged his feet out to a wider stance.

  Fine. Let them come. Give Andie and Henry a chance to get out with the shield.

  Up close, they were massive. A mountain blotting out the sun. Especially since he still stood hunched. Hermes made himself study every inch. They would know he wasn’t afraid. Beneath Clotho’s dangling arm, and between waves of wild red hair, he could see Hephaestus, and smiled.

  Hephaestus smiled back. He threw off his blanket and rose from his chair. The braces on his legs were smaller than the ones he had worn during Hermes’ first visit, and better balanced. He could walk without arm supports. He could run, and leap, straight onto the backs of the Moirae.

  “Hephaestus!”

  “I’ll hold them as long as I can! Get them out! Go where they won’t follow!” He gripped Atropos’ black hair with his freshly repaired hand. How kind of her to fix it for him.

  “Hermes!” He looked up and saw Henry waving the shield. “Catch!”

  The shield fell, a heavy, shining circle, and Hermes caught it and swept it up to his chest. With it before him, the influence of the Moirae was weaker. He could stand straight and even advance. He could bash Atropos in the face.

  The Moirae stumbled back, facing an onslaught from Hephaestus behind and an armed Hermes in the front.

  “It’s a great shield, friend,” Hermes said, and bashed her again.

  “Of course it is.” Hephaestus used his good hand to punch Clotho in the temple. He shouldn’t have let go of Atropos. She reached back and dragged his legs over her shoulder. The sound of his joints stretching and popping was almost as terrible as his scream.

  “Hephaestus!”

  “Henry!” Andie shouted. “Over the rail! Dangle and drop! I’ll get the ladder to you!”

  Henry had climbed down from the girders. He threw his legs over the fourth-floor railing and dropped down to hang before letting go and sliding across the smooth wall to the third floor. It was a long drop; he shouted when he hit. But when Andie rolled the ladder to him he was on it, climbing and sliding the rest of the way down.

  “Hermes, come on!” They ran toward the way they’d come in.

  “No! Not to the car!” Not to Kincade, where they were still defenseless. He looked at the dark rectangle of stairs, cut into the marble floor. “There! Go!”

  They changed direction and made for the staircase.

  “Hermes!” Andie waved for him to follow.

  “I can’t leave Hephaestus!”

  “Go, friend,” Hephaestus said. He struggled with Atropos, but the fight was lost. In the scant seconds it took for Henry to reach the ground level, she had already turned one of his elbows around the wrong way, and stripped him of one of his leg braces. He looked at Hermes sadly, and smiled. “Come back for me, if you find her.”

  “I will,” he replied. I will.

  “Move, move!” he shouted to Andie, and she and Henry fled down the stairs. Down, and down, and down into the dark. The house had not near so many floors above as it had below, Hephaestus said. Hephaestus had no shortage of escape routes, and the stairs would take them far away from the grip of the Moirae. They would take them all the way to the underworld.

  15

  HADES

  “It’s like being inside a snow globe.”

  “What is?” Athena asked.

  “This place.” Odysseus gestured around, careful to keep his eyes from lingering too long on the black forever above their heads. “It feels contained. I can’t stop thinking about up there. Or out there. The real world. I’ve never wanted to smash through something so much as I do these walls.”

  Athena studied the underworld, tall rock in uneven colors of red and orange, gray and rotten purple. Blue and black in the shadows. The creeping, silent river that ran to nowhere in both directions. The dying gods who sat nearby, one of whom looked like a pet corpse they’d been dragging around for a month in warm weather.

  “It’s only an illusion,” she said. “The world still exists outside. It still breathes. It’s still green. The edges do touch, in places.”

  “That’s what makes it so maddening, I guess. The memory of it. Knowing that it’s there. Death would be kinder if we forgot.”

  Across the river, a few shades lingered, hopeful of another taste of blood. Just one more drop, to quicken them and give them will. They circled and sniffed like dogs beneath an empty table.

  Death would be kinder if they forgot. But death was rarely kind.

  “The edges still touch,” Athena said once more, to make herself believe it. She should’ve said that they weren’t dead. Being there so long, even she had begun to despair of ever getting loose. She couldn’t imagine what it was like for Odysseus, a living mortal, to sit there stuck. He’d only been conscious for a little while, and already seemed halfway to tearing free of his own skin, just to be free of something.

  “Tell me we’ll get out,” he said.

  “We’ll get out.”

  He smiled. “I almost believe you.”

  “Believe me. You’ve been here before. You know there are ways.”

  “This time feels different.” He scratched at his wrist. “This feels … like it won’t end.”

  This time was different. This time the way was shut. Wherever Uncle Hades was, h
e knew they’d toyed with his boundaries. They’d taken back Odysseus without permission. So now they had to sit until they paid for their transgression. Or until they struck a decent bargain.

  Athena felt Persephone’s dead eyes on them, dead eyes made eerier by the fact that Persephone was, in fact, alive.

  “God,” Odysseus whispered, barely moving his lips. “I wish she would blink.”

  Athena snorted. “I’m just glad she’s tied up.” Persephone sat silent, a good little bargaining chip, all bones in a black, rotten shroud, wrists bound loosely with strips torn from Aphrodite’s dress. At first it had seemed like a waste of time. But Persephone’s stillness wasn’t a beaten stillness. She’d move quick enough if they weren’t looking. A dead-eyed doll sneaking up behind the rocks.

  Hades would come for Persephone soon. Athena wondered how he would be when he got there. Would he arrive in a cloud of rage and disease, bleeding filth?

  This is his place. He can come however he likes.

  “Hey,” Odysseus said, and pushed Athena’s hair back over her shoulder. She’d seen him do the same to Cassandra, and to Calypso. It shouldn’t bother her that he did the same thing to her. It shouldn’t make her feel so strangely jealous.

  “I need to walk.” She stood.

  “I’ll keep an eye on the undead princess.” Odysseus made a face. “Don’t be gone long.”

  She nodded and went, not sure where or how far she intended to go. But walking didn’t feel as good as she’d hoped. Passing by the strangely shadowed walls and listening to the hateful whisper of the Styx should have felt better. Even the complete lack of wind across her face and arms should’ve felt amazing, because Odysseus was alive.

  Alive for the time being. And not of her doing, but Ares’. Ares, and Aphrodite, and she’d probably been a fool to accept their help.

  Except for maybe the first time in his life, Ares had been a gift, and you didn’t look a gift god in the mouth even if he was a treacherous, violent, hateful ass. No matter how many problems it was going to cause with Cassandra. No matter how little Athena actually trusted them. Even the traitorous feeling she got every second she allowed Aphrodite to live was worth it for Odysseus.

  “You shouldn’t wander so far. Not with Hades on his way.”

  Athena turned. Aphrodite stood a few steps behind. She’d always been light and quiet on her feet.

  “I didn’t wander far,” Athena said, but in truth she had no idea. Distance played tricks in the underworld, just like time did. She shouldn’t have gone off by herself at all.

  Aphrodite stared into her face, big blue eyes steady and somehow just as disturbing to Athena as if they’d been rolling and mad.

  “What?” Athena asked.

  “There are too many emotions running through you. Set some down.”

  “Just because you got a few of your marbles back doesn’t mean you can psych me,” Athena said. “Be careful what you say now.”

  “I’m only trying to help,” Aphrodite said, and frowned. “You need to talk.”

  “Not to you.”

  “To who then? Dear as he is, Ares doesn’t solve problems with words. And Odysseus you would never show your belly to. I know you, Athena, as sure as I’ve always disliked you. I just never understood you until now.”

  Athena narrowed her eyes.

  “I fall in love and suddenly I’m relatable.”

  “Yes,” Aphrodite said. “Part of you is mine now, and that bothers you more than anything. You’re not above me. Not better than me.” A little heat snuck into her voice. A trace of bitterness. “Part of you wants to turn him away just to prove me wrong. But don’t. I’ve always known about your envy. The same way you always knew about mine.”

  “I never envied you,” Athena said. “And you have a one-track mind, as usual.”

  “I know that’s not the only thing.” Aphrodite shrugged. “There’s fear, too. And guilt.”

  “Fear?” Athena asked skeptically.

  “Yes. So many new things for you,” Aphrodite said. “You’re guilty because you dove off of Olympus and left them alone to fight. And you’re afraid because even if you hadn’t, they would have lost anyway. Goddess of battle. You’re not what you once were. None of us are what we once were.”

  The words stung. Athena still had so much pride. Even though she knew that it was her pride that had almost cost them everything.

  “Those moments outside Olympus,” Athena said. “I replay them over and over. I try to stop myself from running in. Try to make myself listen.”

  Aphrodite inclined her head sympathetically.

  “I used them like soldiers,” Athena said, “when I had no right to. I still thought of myself as their god. But their fates aren’t mine. I’m not worthy of them anymore, if I ever was.”

  “Now we make mortal mistakes,” Aphrodite said, nodding. “Now we have consequences.” She twisted the filthy fabric of her skirt between her hands. “It’s … unpleasant. I don’t enjoy it.”

  Athena laughed, and Aphrodite looked up in surprise.

  “I’m not laughing at you,” Athena said, and they paused. It was as close as they’d ever come to a warm moment. But it didn’t last. Aphrodite was saner in the underworld, but still not sane, and Athena’s laughter put her on edge. Her blue eyes wobbled.

  “I’m sorry,” Aphrodite said. “I didn’t know what I was doing, when I killed him.”

  “You mean when you killed my brother. Aidan.”

  “My brother,” Aphrodite moaned. “Our brother.” She clutched the sides of her head. “It went right through him. But I didn’t know. Forgive me.”

  “Forgiveness for that isn’t something you ask for,” Athena muttered. “You either get it or you don’t. And it isn’t up to me. It’s up to the girl you stole him from.”

  “I didn’t know,” Aphrodite said again.

  “Explain it to Cassandra.”

  Athena brushed past Aphrodite to return to the riverbank. Aphrodite seemed about ready to weep, and Athena had no wish to be moved to sympathy. Not about that. Not yet.

  But before she could go, Aphrodite grasped her arm.

  “You have to protect him,” Aphrodite cried.

  “Who?”

  “Ares. You promised.”

  Athena scoffed.

  “He didn’t have to come here,” Aphrodite said. “And he doesn’t have to stay. He can leave whenever he likes and let you deal with Hades. Leave you alone to bargain for Odysseus.”

  “Except he won’t,” Athena said, tugging free. “Because he needs me to stand between you and Cassandra.” She paused. “You keep saying ‘him.’ ‘Him’ and not ‘us.’ Not ‘we.’” She looked at Aphrodite, and Aphrodite looked back, imploring her to figure it out so she wouldn’t have to confess. But reading emotion wasn’t a skill Athena had much practice in.

  “I’m not going back with you,” Aphrodite whispered. “I’m staying here. Where I’m sane. I want to be sane, for as long as I can be.”

  “Down here? With Persephone? Just the two of you, doing what? Playing bridge?” The words didn’t have the heat Athena had intended. They came out gentle and filled with more wonder than malice. To stay in the underworld— to be functionally dead—seemed like torture.

  “Up there you can’t trust me. Up there I’m useless,” Aphrodite said. “Up there I’m mad.”

  “You don’t think we stand a chance. Against the Moirae.”

  Aphrodite’s eyes drifted toward Ares.

  “I think some of us need to fight to the end,” she said. “And some of us don’t.”

  “Does he know?” Athena asked, and Aphrodite shook her head. Ares wouldn’t be happy when he found out. But Aphrodite was right. Without the borders of the underworld to keep her death in check, she was a wild dog.

  “You probably think I’m a coward now,” Aphrodite said. “Not that you ever thought I was anything else.”

  Athena looked at Aphrodite’s torn dress and the bruises that spotted her skin from ankle
to cheek.

  “I think you’re conniving,” she said. “And silly. And a bitch.” She watched Aphrodite bite her tongue on every retort. That Athena was cold. Self-righteous. Also a bitch. “But never a coward.”

  * * *

  Persephone gave away Hades’ arrival. Not even her deadest eye could hide its brightness, its happiness at his homecoming. Athena, too, felt something dense and heavy the moment he crossed over, a black hole opening up in the back of her head. Ares leapt quickly to Persephone and dragged her to her feet. His wolves circled around them both.

  “It feels different now,” Odysseus said. “Not so empty.”

  “It isn’t empty anymore,” Athena said. “He’s home.”

  A shadow flashed in her mind: Hades, black as a bat’s wing, titanic as his sister Demeter stretched across miles of desert. In her mind he wrapped them in cold, and spit them out as bones.

  “He’ll let us go, right? We’re fighting for his side.” Odysseus drew his sword, for all the good it would do. It didn’t matter that they fought for the side of the gods. It didn’t matter that Athena had been a good niece up till then, and had gone out of her way to keep from pissing him off. She’d stolen one of the dead, and the dead were his. It was his only rule.

  When Hades came into view, he looked as young and handsome as Ares or Aidan. Not a walking embodiment of death or disease. It hadn’t taken him over like it had his brother Poseidon. But Athena knew that what she’d seen in the back of her mind was the true Hades: a great, black shadow contained in skin and an expensive shirt. Just the sight of him made her mouth go dry. His voice made her shudder, even though he didn’t address them.

  “Persephone. Are you all right?”

  Odd thing to ask when she looks six months into her coffin.

  “As well as one can be, when one is held prisoner in one’s own home,” Persephone replied.

  Hades looked over every inch of his bride with affection in his eyes. He didn’t flinch from a single, terrible bit, not the purplish wrinkles in her skin or the bare red spots in her scalp. His gaze lingered on her face and, finally, on her bound wrists.