My back hit the couch, pinning his arm beneath me.
“Are you ready?” he asked, breaking away.
“Yeah,” I whispered, my voice hoarse with what? Pain? Wanting? Whatever this feeling was, I didn’t like it. Or maybe I liked it too much.
Ares pressed two fingers to my forehead and pushed me into the dreamscape.
Chapter II
SAND PRESSED against my back, not quite as hot as Ares’s arms, but close. He pushed off me in a hurry and scrambled to his feet with a curse.
“By the Styx, Ares, get some clothes on,” Artemis snapped, but the laughter in her voice undermined her ire. “But that’s one mystery solved. You owe me money, Heph. I told you he wasn’t missing. Just holed up with some piece of—Aphrodite!”
“Hi, Artemis,” I managed to say, though I couldn’t see her around Ares.
Ares held out a hand to help me up, and I flashed him a grateful smile. Dreamscapes followed the same shifting laws dreams did. You couldn’t see past what was directly in front of you. There was no periphery, no glances of something in the corner of your eye, no awareness of anything lurking off to the side. Artemis would have been able to see Ares’s bare back, but not much else. Since clothes can be summoned instantly in dreams, there would be some natural assumptions made about my own state of dress prior to entering the dreamstate, not to mention why we were late.
“About time you two showed up.” A cold shadow fell over us.
I craned my neck, squinting against the sunlight blazing around a Poseidon-shaped silhouette. Short, spiky, bleach-blond hair completed his surfer-boy image. He didn’t look much older than twenty-five, and never would, unless he glamoured himself to look older. Gods didn’t age past their prime. Not physically anyway.
“Well, look what the tide washed in.” I flashed Poseidon my prettiest smile and dropped Ares’s hand.
“Really?” Artemis protested. “With Ares? I know you’re new, Aphrodite, but I thought you were smarter than this. Did no one warn you about him? Athena, weren’t you supposed to be on that?”
“Come sit with me, Aphrodite,” Athena directed from somewhere to my left. “We should talk.”
“Are we late?” Ares moved aside so I could take in the group of gods gathered at a wicker beach table a few feet away.
“Just a few minutes,” Hephaestus replied from his seat. He glanced past Ares to me. “Good to see you, Aphrodite.”
Half of Hephaestus’s face looked like an unrecognizable web of twitching scar tissue with skin hanging in odd places. One eye socket drooped, empty and melted. The other half of his face looked completely normal. Perfect, even. I forced myself to focus on his good side when I met his eye and smiled. “You, too. Sorry to keep you guys waiting. We were—”
“TMI.” Persephone pushed past Poseidon and swept me into a hug that smelled of wildflowers and sunshine. Her hands felt cold against my back, and I jumped, surprised at the unexpected chill. Since when did the frickin’ embodiment of spring feel cold? “We can all fill in the blanks. How are you? It’s been so long.”
“I saw you at the last meeting,” I reminded her, pulling back.
“A month ago.” The small, fluffy blonde looked far too young to be a goddess of any importance, but two years ago, Persephone went from a neophyte goddess to a super power in the Pantheon when she defeated Zeus. As the heir to both Demeter and Zeus, and the wife of Hades, Lord of the Underworld, she ruled three of the four realms with undisputed access to the fourth, thanks to an unlikely friendship with Poseidon’s deceased son. No single deity had amassed so much power since the days of the Titans. “We should—”
“I hate to interrupt,” Athena said from somewhere behind Persephone. “But I have a lecture to give in the morning, so if we could move along, that would be great.”
“Right.” Persephone pulled me toward the remainder of the once great pantheon and dropped into a seat next to Hades at the end of the table.
Ares sandwiched himself between Hephaestus and Artemis, who promptly smacked the back of his head. “She’s three years old.”
I rolled my eyes as I slid out the chair next to Athena’s. Technically, Artemis wasn’t wrong about my age. But when a god is created rather than born, they come into the world mature. Physically and otherwise.
“Poseidon, I believe you were next on the agenda?” Hades asked, getting us back on track.
I gave myself one second to admire Hades’s perfectly chiseled features, the electric blue eyes blazing behind the midnight black hair hanging in his face, and the amazing body that went with it. Then I took a deep breath and did my best not to drool. Hades was the epitome of taken.
“Yeah, sorry about the disruption.” Persephone smiled at Poseidon.
Poseidon’s entire demeanor shifted when Persephone turned her attention to him. His chin lifted, and his gaze stayed riveted on her face, not even flicking down the rest of her. “No need for apologies.” He gave a cordial nod. “But perhaps I owe Aphrodite one for the location.” He focused on me. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about returning here, but I’ve put so much energy into this dreamscape that constructing another would be inconvenient.”
Where were we? I glanced around for a clue, but didn’t see anything distinguishing this beach from any other. Oh. He could only mean one place. Cumberland Island. Zeus had abandoned me on this shoreline moments after my creation. I’d spent days terrified behind a shield until Persephone found me.
Poseidon’s ocean eyes churned, the color fluctuating with the sea, shifting from blue to green to brown, with white waves cresting in miniature around his pupils. When I didn’t voice any objections to the locale, he returned his attention to Persephone. “I’ve got a lead on the missing demigods.”
That got everyone’s attention, and for good reason. Demeter had been the one to notice the uptick in missing person reports matching the description of demigods. And description would be all she could go on, since most humans don’t believe in gods anymore, much less that George down the street was actually half of one. Hell, George probably didn’t even know these days. But to anyone in the know, demigods stood out like a sore thumb. All demigods shared similar coloring. The ichor in their blood turned them gold to the extreme: hair, skin, eyes, everything except their actual blood looked golden, which made no sense to me, but I hadn’t been around during creation to add my two cents in, so whatever.
“You could have led with that,” Artemis said, scooting forward in her seat.
“I only wanted to explain this once.” Poseidon cut a glance toward Ares and me, but before either of us could say a word in our defense, his gaze returned to Persephone like a magnet.
“I noticed an anomaly within this cruise line.” Poseidon summoned a stack of brochures and passed the ink-laden papers down the table.
“Fantasy Cruises?” I struggled to hold the advertisement steady enough to read against the whipping wind. “What—? Poseidon, I appreciate the insane amount of detail you put into these dreamscapes, but really, can you cut the setting down a notch?”
The wind died down to a gentle breeze. “They leave with more passengers than they return home with,” Poseidon explained. “No one seems to notice, which, if you know anything about human recordkeeping, is unusual in and of itself.”
That last bit was for Persephone’s benefit, as the rest of us knew everything about human recordkeeping. One perk of being created as a deity instead of being born like Persephone, was coming into existence with the accumulated knowledge of the gods—unless they deliberately withheld it—over the entirety of creation. There were exceptions, of course. We weren’t omniscient. Unless prophecy was involved, future and current events were beyond our scope. But when it came to random human crap, we knew almost everything.
“You think people were charmed into forgetting them?” Artemis’s dark eyes narrow
ed in concentration as she studied the brochure.
“Is that possible on this scale?” Persephone asked.
All eyes turned to me.
“I might be able to charm an entire ship into forgetting that I exist, but I mean, using enough power to pull off mass amnesia would be a stretch, even for me.”
Poseidon summoned another group of papers and passed them down the table. “The memory loss regarding the person’s existence doesn’t last long—just the circumstances of their disappearance. Missing posters go up in a matter of days.”
Athena handed me the sheets. I took one and passed the rest to Persephone, then studied the paper in front of me, which featured a smiling demigoddess named Otrera.
I swapped papers with Ares. Sure enough, his missing poster featured another demigod. Demigods weren’t exactly common anymore. That this many would use the same cruise line seemed statistically impossible.
Poseidon rifled through more papers. “There are almost exactly as many missing demigods as missing passengers. I’ve sent spies on these ships, but they come back as clueless as the rest of the passengers. That means they were either charmed, or the passengers went missing in port. We need to get to the bottom of this. But to do that, we’ll need someone with unrestricted access to both realms, who is too strong to be charmed.”
In other words, he needed Persephone. But judging by the way her shoulders tensed, she didn’t want to go.
Persephone gathered her wavy hair into a ponytail at the base of her neck. “I have no interest in pursuing an investigation in your realm at this time.” She held the blond locks steady for a moment before dropping her hand with a sigh. The gesture made her look tired. I couldn’t help wondering how things were going for her since Zeus’s defeat.
“I’m aware of your reluctance to visit my realm. But we need to know what happened to the demigods.” Poseidon’s voice sounded gentle, as if he was trying to be nice, which somehow seemed even creepier than his usual lewd skeevyness. “You know I wouldn’t be asking you to do this otherwise.”
“She said no.” Hades’s voice left no room for argument. “Next option.”
Persephone shot him a grateful smile, and I found myself struck at the contrast between the two of them. She seemed to radiate the very light he absorbed. When they were together, it almost hurt to look at them. I guess opposites did attract.
“Poseidon has a point,” Athena interjected. “Persephone, I realize your plate is a bit full, what with three realms to run, but if you delegate those responsibilities, surely you’ll have time—Something funny, Ares?“
Ares swallowed his snicker, looking chastened. “Actually, yeah. I’m imagining what Zeus or Demeter or any other realm ruler would have done to you if you’d suggested they take time from their rule for recon. I mean—” He paused, giving me a look so significant across the table that I sat up straighter. “Zeus used to send Hermes out for everything, including kidnapping his dates.”
He had, hadn’t he?
“Well, we all know how vested Zeus was in our survival,” Athena said icily.
Persephone cleared her throat. “Hades, how many times have you set foot outside of your realm in the last millennia? Three?”
Hades nodded. “Sounds about right.”
“How about you, Poseidon? Once? Twice?” Persephone arched an eyebrow at Athena. “You wanna give them a lesson on time management, too, or can we get back to the task at hand?”
Persephone had been under pressure to redistribute her power ever since she killed Zeus. Athena knew good and well why Persephone didn’t want to visit Poseidon’s realm, but implying Persephone wasn’t competent enough to handle the responsibilities that came with her realms gave Athena the leverage she needed to keep applying that pressure.
“We are spread considerably thinner than we once were,” Athena reminded Persephone. “We all need to take a more active role—”
“Why?” Hephaestus interrupted. “Since when do we care about demigods?”
“They’re weaknesses. Our children can kill us,” Poseidon argued. “So if someone is collecting them—”
“Our children?” Hephaestus glanced around the room. “I had a few spirits back in the day, but demigods? Never bothered. And as far as I know, most of you didn’t either. Artemis? Hades? Persephone? Aphrodite? Any of you have children among the living?” He waited until we shook our heads before continuing, and I tried really hard not to notice that he hadn’t included Ares among the childless. “Then they can’t kill us.”
“But Steele can,” Athena said, referring to the only weapon in the world that could kill a god. “And despite your claim to have destroyed it all—”
“I did,” Hephaestus insisted.
“—it’s made a resurgence and been linked to the missing demigods. If something or someone out there is trying to collect our weaknesses, we need to know why.” Athena’s voice left no room for argument.
“Send me.” Since I’d sworn fealty to Persephone, I could act as her proxy. Between gods, vows of fealty go much further than obedience or pledges of loyalty. Persephone could use me as an extension of her powers. She would never ask me. But I could volunteer.
“Aphrodite.” Persephone’s eyes widened. “No, you don’t have to—”
“Thank you for the offer, Aphrodite, but this is a bit beyond you.” Poseidon didn’t even look at me. That would involve tearing his gaze from Persephone’s face.
Hades narrowed his eyes, apparently as creeped out by Poseidon’s intense focus on his wife as I was. “Unless someone else wants to volunteer, you’re out of options.”
Artemis studied me for a long moment before speaking. “Aphrodite has more charm than all of us combined, and, since she’s sworn to Persephone, she can act on her behalf should matters move beyond Poseidon’s realm. It’s a perfect solution, right, Athena?”
Athena flashed her a tight-lipped smile. “Perfect is a strong word, but yes, I suppose it is the best alternative we can hope to come up with. Are you sure you’re up to this, Aphrodite? You don’t have much experience—”
“Neither does Persephone. And you were fine with sending her.” I turned to Poseidon, raising my eyebrows. “May I have permission to travel in your realm?”
“It would seem I have no other options.” Poseidon’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Your cruise departs in seventy-two hours.” Tossing me a thick envelope, he added, “Don’t be late.”
Seventy-two hours, huh? That wasn’t nearly enough time to shop.
Chapter III
THE HEAD CONCIERGE, Miguel, set my bags down on the marble floor of the entryway with a reverence generally reserved for holy artifacts. And let’s face it, anything belonging to me was.
“Is this room more to your liking?” His pupils were wide under the influence of my charm.
Lemon-scented cleaning solution assaulted my nostrils as I glanced around the sun-filled room. The suite curved around the back of the ship. Taupe shades covered the floor-to-ceiling windows, which was just as well, since we were still in the port.
“There’s a kitchenette through here with a fully stocked fridge.” Miguel left the luggage at the door and walked around the bar. “Everything is complimentary, of course. If you need anything else, simply dial five on your phone and you’ll reach your personal concierge. Life jackets”—he edged around the bar to open a door by the curved staircase—“are located in the half-bath.” He motioned to a set of white cabinets. “Along with a safe, bathrobes, and towels.”
I nodded, stepping out onto the balcony to take in the wicker lounge chairs, whirlpool, and dinner table. My view of the buildings crowding the Miami port tunnel would soon give way to endless ocean. I glanced down, enchanted by the way the steel-blue waves rippled against the ship like silk.
“You’ll need these.” He placed two plastic
cards on the bar. “Your room keys act as a credit card for any on-board spending. All charges will be billed to the room. You’ll also require the key anytime you wish to leave the ship. Should you need me, anytime, please let me know.”
“Actually . . . wait.” I rushed back into the room and pulled at my smallest suitcase, jerking to stop when the plush carpet rendered the wheels inefficient. “I guess here is fine.” I grunted, unzipping the front pocket to reach one of the bright-yellow folders I’d tucked inside. Inside it, I’d put pictures of all the demigods who’d vanished off this ship within the last year. Holding the file out to Miguel, I asked, “Do you recognize any of these people?”
He flipped through the missing flyers, his expression morphing from eager to devastated with each sheet. “No.” Miguel’s shoulders sagged. “Is there any other way I can help you?”
“Could you show them to the rest of the crew?” Grinning at him to show that I wasn’t upset, I waited until the disappointed steward met my eyes again. Then I eased off the charm a touch. Charm could be tricky. I couldn’t have my new personal assistant throwing himself off the boat in a fit of despair, now could I? “If anyone recognizes them, bring them to me.”
“Of course.” He waited, his dark eyes adoring. “How else can I please you?”
I considered. If a swipe of the room key monitored every purchase, arrival, and departure, then maybe I could pinpoint exactly when the demigods went missing. “Would you be able to access the records from previous cruises?”
His dark hair fell into his eyes as he nodded again. “I can look them up by name or booking number. Would that be helpful?”
“Why, yes, it would.” Looking at the records after everyone checked in would be more efficient. After all, identifying the demigods about to go missing was the first step in my plan.
I thought back to the picture Miguel took of me before I boarded the ship. “My picture is linked to my account, right?” If those pictures were in the system, a simple search would tell me how many demigods were on the ship. Then I’d know who to keep my eyes on.
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