The Iron Queen

by Kaitlin Bevis

  Zeus’ face rippled, twisting back to his own features. “They’re building an army down on the surface. Just to find you. Every remaining god under one roof, driven together for a common purpose.” He grinned, like that made him happy for some reason. “What makes you so special?” He looked at me like he wanted to slice me open and see what made me tick. “What does he see in you?”

  There was a way to tell. The memory slid around my brain like water, but I couldn’t grab hold of a thought long enough to think it. He’d broken my mind, shattered it into a thousand pieces. Meh, who needed recall abilities? Something in my mind was whole and present, otherwise I wouldn’t still be walking and talking. The longer I sat here, the more it healed. “Their common purpose isn’t me. It’s you. Everyone hates you enough to want you dead. Can you blame them?”

  “I was their hero once.” He almost sounded sad.

  I snorted and rolled my eyes, letting my head loll against the wall of mist. This was as close to rest as I got. I was going to take advantage of it. “And now you’re psychotic.” I shrugged. “It happens.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Your mother didn’t seem to mind.”

  Oh, he had not just gone there. “I’ve never had to ask what her biggest regret was.”

  “You?”

  I laughed. “Hardly. She loves me more than anything. But I guess you wouldn’t know what that’s like. Your parents thought you were an abomination—”

  “Shut up.”

  In a flash, I remembered. Most of my powers didn’t work in his realm, but I could set the rules in my own head. “My mom hates you, you know. But I guess that shouldn’t surprise you. I can’t think of a single person or deity who doesn’t.” When I was sure his attention was fully on me, I concentrated on using my powers. A small red poppy grew in the corner of the room behind Zeus.

  A dream. Perfect. Fractured pieces of the plan I’d put together during the rare times I was conscious enough to think came to me. I drew in a deep breath. I’d never tried anything like this before, so there was a big chance my plan wouldn’t work. But at this point I’d take any chance, no matter how slim. “You created Aphrodite to be loyal to you, and even she can’t stand you.”

  Rage reddened his face. “You’re going to want to be very careful what you say to me.”

  I concentrated hard enough to make vines shoot around his legs, holding him in place.

  “You’re in my head, remember.” I was probably going to regret this when I came to. But really, he already tortured me all day. What did I have to lose? Stepping outside of my dream, I called “Adios.”

  My mind closed to all visitors, locking down my dreamscape without me in it. I didn’t know how that worked or how soon Zeus would be able to get out, but if I could keep Zeus occupied even for a few minutes...

  My eyes shot open, and I sprang out of bed. Throwing open the door to the bedroom, I looked up and down the misty hallway. Which way led to the exit?

  Turning right, I sprinted down the hall until I came to a huge room filled with sunlight and a massive door of mist. I pulled it open and gaped at the endless sky that spread in all directions. If there was land beneath me, I couldn’t see it. I swallowed hard. This was probably going to hurt.

  Chapter XXIII

  Aphrodite

  I YAWNED AND inspected my nails. Divine meetings were boring as hell.

  Hades stood in the front of the room, his dark clothes sucking in the cheery brightness of Demeter’s home like a black hole. “Who are we missing?” Hades paused, deep in thought, gaze fixed on Demeter’s white couch. “Is anyone else still around?”

  “Hebe?” Ares suggested. He hadn’t shed the jacket, despite the stifling heat of the overcrowded home.

  I winced, expecting an onslaught of information and images to rush over me, but there wasn’t much to know about Hebe. She was the goddess of youth, and apparently—

  “Dead,” Hades confirmed.

  I would have thought a goddess of youth would be safe. This culture seemed to worship it enough.

  “Eileithyia?” one of the muses asked, referring to the goddess of the pain of childbirth.

  Wait, seriously? I racked my brain and came up with hundreds upon thousands of useless gods of mists and doorways and clouds. No wonder so many of the gods were dead. What a waste of worship.

  “She didn’t last very long after they invented the epidural.” Demeter sat on her couch, feet tucked under her, drinking a cup of steaming tea. If having so many deities running freely through her home bothered her, she didn’t show it.

  The humans on the other hand looked ready to crawl out of their skin. With the exception of the new human, Ryan, they sat clustered at the kitchen table as though they were clinging to safety in numbers as a defense against the massive gathering of gods. Ryan was still upstairs with Artemis getting filled in on all things divine. Lucky him. Adonis, Melissa, Orpheus, and Eurydice looked like they’d rather be anywhere else, including Tartarus.

  “Hephaestus?” Apollo hopped off the last step of the staircase, rubbing his wet hair with a towel. He looked almost normal in blue jeans and a white T-shirt with a smiling sun wearing sunglasses.

  Everyone in the room fell silent. At first I thought they were snubbing Apollo, then the name he’d said hit my system.

  The information came so fast that it almost didn’t have time to process. Raised voices, a stack of weapons glittering in the sun, a flash of lightning, and a cry of pain, discord on Olympus followed by averted eyes and buried guilt. Wow! There was some history there.

  “Let’s... not involve him,” Demeter suggested. The tension in the room eased palpably.

  Not involve him? We needed all the help we could get.

  I looked across the room at Melissa, and she inclined her head in a slight nod. Smiling, I found myself glad she was on board with my unspoken plan to recruit Hephaestus. Melissa wasn’t so bad. At least not when she acted more like me and less like an entitled selfish brat. I was pleased to be rubbing off on her. It’s not often one can claim credit for making the world a less irritating place, but I wasn’t going to let the accomplishment go to my head.

  Persephone deserved the best possible chance. The best way of giving her that was to bring as many gods into this as possible. However uncomfortable the rest of the gods were with what had happened, no one could deny Hephaestus was powerful.

  Demeter seemed to notice Adonis for the first time. “Who is that?” She leaned forward, placing her tea on a wicker side table and fixed Adonis with a penetrating glare.

  Melissa smirked. “Aphrodite and I found him. He’s Zeus’. We figured he’d be next on the hit list—

  “And what?” Demeter demanded. “You felt we had the extra resources to protect him right now?”

  Melissa seemed surprised, but I understood what Demeter was getting at. We didn’t have the manpower to keep our eyes on another person. I had pretty much taken up all the leeway left. But I had a solution. “I thought he could stay in the Underworld.”

  “Wait, what?” This was news to Adonis.

  I nodded. The Underworld was safe. Though whether I thought it kept Adonis safe, or us safe from Adonis, I wasn’t sure. Something about him gave me the creeps. “Hades, don’t you need a few extra hands down there anyway? I just thought—”

  “I’m not going to the Underworld!” Adonis objected.

  Orpheus hushed him, and the rest of the gods seemed to decide it was time to explore the house.

  Demeter ignored Adonis, her eyes focused on me, glittering with rage. “We can’t trust you for help or ideas, and you know that. Anything you say is automatically suspect—”

  “Why?” Adonis asked.

  “Shut up!” Orpheus hissed. He grabbed the young demigod’s arm and made as if to lead him from the room, but drew up short when Hades steppe
d in from of him.

  Hades’ electric-blue eyes swept over Adonis with such intensity Adonis seemed to shrink in on himself. “There’s something different about this one,” Hades murmured.

  Orpheus gave Adonis an apologetic look, felt backward for Eurydice’s hand, and retreated from the room, pulling her along with him. Smart man.

  “He’s one of Zeus’ eugenics projects.” Demeter waved a dismissive hand. “That’s why I hadn’t bothered with him. Zeus isn’t likely to come after—”

  “Eugenics?” Hades’ eyebrows shot up.

  Demeter either missed or just didn’t care about the warning in his tone. “His mother was a demigod, so was his grandmother, and her mother before that, and her mother before that going back centuries. His father had the same type of—”

  “His father?” I leaned forward. “His father is Zeus. He’s got charm. I can feel it.”

  “No.” Demeter clasped her hands together. “His grandfather is Zeus, on both sides, and his great-grandfather and his great-great grandfather.” The list continued for a few more generations, but we got the gist of it. Adonis was inbred to the extreme.

  Adonis sat down in the chair fast. He looked ill.

  “Zeus isn’t going to kill him,” Demeter continued. “I’m sure there’s a female version of him out there somewhere he’ll be compelled to breed with. Zeus will be curious to see what happens with their child.”

  “He has charm,” I repeated, unable to believe anyone not directly descended from a god could have powers. Demigods didn’t pass on powers to their children. They didn’t even pass on ichor, the golden blood of the gods that gave them their physical characteristics. “He’s immune to it, too.”

  Hades and Demeter both looked shocked at this development. Gods weren’t even immune to charm. Not really. With enough power we could shield ourselves against it, but any one of us could be taken off guard.

  “How many of these ‘projects’ does Zeus have going?” Hades demanded, his tone making it clear he didn’t agree with Demeter’s word choice.

  Demeter shrugged. “Plenty, I’m sure. He wanted to see how long it would take to create new gods through the humans. Looks like he’s only a few generations away.”

  “That’s sick!” Melissa exploded. “How can you talk about this like it’s some casual thing?”

  Demeter drew back in surprise. “I didn’t intend—”

  “We’re people!” Melissa snapped, brown eyes blazing. “You don’t get to breed us like lab rats, or control us, or make assumptions. What if you’re wrong and Zeus wants him dead? That risk is fine with you? I guess he’s just human after all. We don’t matter much compared to your divine egos.”

  “Melissa, that’s enough!” Demeter snapped.

  I raised my eyebrows. I’d never heard Demeter use her mom voice. It was pretty scary.

  Melissa knew Demeter better than I did, and she didn’t seem nervous, but still, it might be the better call to get her out of here. I looked to Hades for a clue. He seemed distracted. Touching his temples, he looked like his head could be bugging him, but he wasn’t quite sure.

  Wait. I’d looked away but some detail drew my head back to Hades with a snap. A smear of bright red blood collected under his nose. Hades stared at his bloodied fingers like they belonged to someone else.

  “Demeter,” I gasped. But her focus was on Melissa.

  Melissa narrowed her eyes at Demeter. “I don’t answer to you. As far as I’m concerned, the only member of this entire pathetic pantheon who matters is Persephone. The human race is better without the rest of your meddling and manipulations and disguises!”

  The whole Zeus was Joel revelation hadn’t gone over well with her. Adonis touched Melissa’s arm and stage whispered, “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

  Melissa shook him off. “I’m not afraid of them. I’m not the one who needs worship to live.”

  “Demeter!” Tearing my gaze from Hades wasn’t easy. Something was wrong, very, very wrong. Gods didn’t bleed. They just didn’t. But I’d sworn to protect Melissa, so Hades would just have to wait. If Demeter tried to hurt Melissa there wasn’t a whole lot I could do but get in the way. I gulped. I really didn’t want to do that.

  But Demeter didn’t seem bothered by Melissa’s outburst at all. She regarded Melissa with a look of exasperated patience. Melissa stared at her for a moment, waiting for some reaction. When none came, she gave a dramatic sigh, flipped her hair, and stormed out of the room. Adonis took a quick look around and followed her.

  “Not a word.” Demeter held up one finger and regarded me with icy cold eyes. “I’m not interested in your opinion. But you—” she turned to Hades “—I’m surprised you could resist commenting on that little displa—”

  She broke off with a surprised gasp. I followed her gaze and felt my stomach twist in fear. This didn’t happen. It just didn’t happen. Hades lay unconscious in a crumbled heap on the wooden floor in a pool of blood.

  Chapter XXIV

  Hades

  PERSEPHONE’S BREATH was hot in my ear. Her nails dug into my back. My hands ran down her body...

  “Oh, Hades,” she moaned.

  “Um... Wow.” The voice came from across the room.

  I pivoted, changing the dreamscape around me. By the time I faced the door, I was standing in my library fully clothed, facing Persephone, the real non-dream version. She stood in the doorway, slack jawed.

  “Persephone!” Crossing the room in an instant, I gathered her in my arms, joy and relief rushing through me in equal parts. “Gods!” Her body, whole and solid, fit against mine in a way dreams could never get right. I’d been so worried I’d never hold her again. Never see her again. “Are you okay? Where are you?” When I pulled away, I kept my arms wrapped around her waist because I couldn’t bring myself to let go. “Physically, I mean,” I added, when she looked confused. Dreamwalking got complex whenever a distinction had to be made between the mind and the body.

  She didn’t answer. I looked her up and down, gaze snagging on her necklace.

  A small green spiky plant hung in a metal basket, the red bud of a flower just beginning to blossom. The glass-blown pomegranate seed that hung from the basket was a token of my realm. It was a perfect conduit, representative of her lineage and marriage with a piece of each realm in one neat package. But that wasn’t why she wore it here.

  It meant something to her because I gave it to her. I meant something to her.

  Even after everything that had happened to her because of me, she still went through the trouble of replicating that necklace in her dreams. Clearing my throat, I jerked my gaze away from the necklace. No apparent injuries, but there was no telling if that was reflective of reality or how she saw herself at the moment.

  Something was wrong. In my relief I hadn’t noticed she failed to return my embrace, but now I saw how rigid she held herself in my arms. There was a look I didn’t recognize in her eyes.

  Persephone was an open book. I never had to guess how she felt or what she was thinking. It was all right there. But now her expression was guarded. And there was something else in it. Fear.

  Of me?

  Was I really dreaming again? Would she fall to pieces like in that horrible nightmare? No. She was real. She was here. I could feel it. “Persephone?” I reached out to caress her cheek.

  She flinched. “Don’t.” Her green eyes searched my face. “I should be able to tell.” Her voice broke. Persephone tried to pull back, but I held her fast.

  My arms dropped, and I stepped away for good measure. There was no telling what she had gone through, so if she needed space, I was happy to oblige. “Tell what?” I wanted to reach out to her, to demand to know what Zeus had done and how I could fix it, but I didn’t dare. “Persephone.” It was a fight to keep my
voice calm. “Tell me where to find you.”

  She looked away and I jerked toward her, almost unable to restrain myself from reaching for her. Persephone flinched.

  “Hey, it’s okay. Wherever you are, I’m going to find you and bring you home, okay? But I need you to point me in the right direction.”

  “Stop.” She took a deep, shuddering breath, sliding her air plant pendant back and forth on the chain of her necklace. “I should be able to tell him from you. If you’re not him, if you’ve taken that from me, if you’ve broken us that badly...” Iron glinted in her eyes, hard and unfeeling. “Then you won’t have to find me. I haven’t come into my powers yet, but I will. I’d be afraid of that day if I were you.”

  Comprehension bubbled up within me like bile. I was going to make a way to kill him. Then I’d drag him down to hell and spend the rest of eternity making him suffer.

  It wouldn’t be enough. It would never be enough. Zeus looked like me. The bastard had looked like me when he’d hurt her. “It’s me.”

  She didn’t look convinced, and I didn’t blame her. I didn’t sound like myself. There was no getting past this. Even if I found a way to get her back, even if everything worked out, she would look at me now and see him.

  “Everyone is ‘me.’” Persephone put the word in air quotes. “Be more specific.”

  The hardness in her voice was so foreign to me that I hesitated. Her eyes narrowed, and she shot out her hands, shoving me backward. “Get the fuck out of my head, you sick bastard.”

  That snapped me out of my reverie. I grabbed her hands. “I’m not in your dream. You’re in mine. I promise, I’m Hades. You?” I didn’t know. She was acting so different.

  “I’m Persephone. Oh gods, Hades!” She half-fell, half-threw herself into my arms. “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t tell. I thought it was you, but I couldn’t tell.”

  I shushed her, savoring the feel of her warm body pressed against mine. “It’s fine.” Gods, it felt good to hold her. “Are you okay?” The force of whatever happened to her had knocked me out. And I was a lot stronger than she was.