by Molly Ringle
The souls murmured the request outward among them. Soon Demeter walked into view, all eyes upon her. She wore a slim white tunic with embroidered flowers at the edges, one Persephone remembered from her childhood, a favorite of Demeter’s. She was barefoot, and a simple wreath of wheat ears decorated her head—the crown she had always preferred over her gold one.
Persephone let go of Hades’ hand and stepped forward to embrace her mother. Demeter’s arms encircled her, and again Persephone could only feel a soothing presence, not an actual touch. But it was enough.
“Oh, Mother.” She drew back to look at Demeter’s ever-youthful face, finding the same quiet sadness reflected in it. “You didn’t have to give yourself up. You did so much good in the world. You should have stayed.”
“Not if it might have saved my granddaughter.” Demeter stroked Persephone’s shoulder, then turned to look across the fields. “I suppose we’ll know soon enough.”
The three of them wandered together, waiting.
The rowers passed three slower ships without Kerberos giving any of the boats a second glance. He kept his front paws planted on the leftward side of the bow, sticking his nose out as far as he could. Dionysos waved the rowers that direction. They approached a tiny island off the coast of the gulf. A ship was anchored just off it, its sails furled. Kerberos stared at it. The fur on the back of his neck rose, and he growled.
“That boat.” Hermes pointed, and the rowers brought them closer.
As they drew nearer, Dionysos could make out a line of burly men on its deck, watching their approach, spears and bows at the ready.
Hermes cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted across the water, “If you have a captive immortal woman on board, hand her over to us at once, and your lives might be spared.”
“The drunk god and the lecherous trickster,” someone shouted back, and immediately three or four arrows flew their direction. One bounced off the hull; the others fell into the sea.
Hermes lifted his eyebrows at Dionysos. “Found our kidnappers.”
Kerberos strained and quivered and leaned his head out of the boat, with occasional anguished yips. Dionysos stroked him between the ears. “She’s there. All right. Let’s get her.” He turned to the rowers, who looked at him in dread—the arrows had shaken them. “Get us close enough to jump on,” he said. “Then pull away if you wish. We don’t want you killed. We’ll stand between you and the arrows as much as we can.”
Though the rowers muttered desperate prayers and exchanged uncertain glances, they had received their handsome silver payment, and they were honorable enough to obey. They pulled hard in unison upon their oars, and the ship soared toward the anchored boat.
On the enemy ship, two men hastily hauled up the anchor, and others rushed around readying oars and sails, while three stayed at the side and kept shooting arrows at the immortals. But Hermes had found a few thick planks lying loose in the base of the boat, and now he and Dionysos picked them up and used them as shields, knocking aside the arrows as they came. One got through and lodged with a nasty sting in Dionysos’ thigh, but he gritted his teeth and jerked it out.
They reached the other boat. In a chaos of shouts and smacking blades, Dionysos and Hermes jumped across and landed on the opposite deck, swinging their planks and swords. The row of attackers toppled over but kept fighting. Kerberos leaped after them, snarling and snapping.
Men converged upon them as they rolled and fought on the deck. All the assassins were armed and stank of sweat. But the ship could only hold about twelve of them, and their numbers dwindled quickly. Hermes scrambled to his feet and flung one man after another overboard. Dionysos did the same. They each spun to meet a rushing attacker, stole the weapons, and sent their owners into the sea with bloody wounds.
Someone shouted a warning and Dionysos whirled around to find a man racing at him with a long knife. But then an oar crashed onto the attacker’s head and he screamed and fell overboard. Dionysos grinned in gratitude at the man who had dealt the blow: their rowers hadn’t left after all; they had pulled up the boat alongside and were attacking with their oars and fishing spears.
“You’re excellent men and we’ll pay you double,” Hermes shouted to them.
Dionysos chased after Kerberos, who had planted himself atop a screaming man on a large cloth-covered crate. The dog’s teeth were sunk deep in the man’s shoulder, and Kerberos twisted and whipped while biting the man, as if trying to kill a rat. Dionysos pulled Kerberos free and clutched the man by the throat. The man scrabbled to grab a knife from beneath him and flailed it at Dionysos, but Dionysos easily seized it and threw it into the water, then flung the man in after it.
Kerberos scrabbled at the crate with his claws, ripping at the cloth over it.
The rest of the enemy crew had been thrown overboard. The immortals’ hired rowers prodded and stabbed at them with spears to keep them from climbing back aboard. Ignoring the screams and shouts from those in the water, Hermes and Dionysos tore the cloth off and ripped open the lid of the oak crate.
Dionysos’ sense of Hekate burst back upon him, close and immediate and wondrously welcome. But with it came a rush of shock. The sight of her nearly knocked Dionysos to his knees. Hermes choked back a cry of outrage.
She was pale and unconscious, and lay in a pool of blood that covered the bottom of the box and swished about with the motion of the ship. Blades and hilts protruded from her throat, chest, belly, hands, and feet. Dionysos and Hermes stared frozen for a moment, then both dived in and began pulling out the blades, gasping and murmuring prayers. Dionysos blinked against a sting in his eyes that spread down his face, and realized he was crying.
After removing all the blades, they lifted her up, her blood dripping down their arms, and cradled her between them on the ship’s deck. One of their rowers raced over with a skin of fresh water he’d found on board. They poured it carefully over each of her wounds, and her sticky, matted hair.
“Please.” Hermes held her head and shoulders upon his lap. “Please, love…”
She gasped, the sound loud and startling. Everyone jumped. She rolled onto her side, gagging and spitting out blood.
Dionysos knelt by her with the water skin. “Here. Drink. It’s all right.”
She let him trickle a bit into her mouth, spat it out, then accepted a bit more and swallowed it. Her eyes finally opened, and she fell back onto Hermes’ lap and looked in confusion from him to Dionysos.
“Hello,” Hermes said, smiling, his voice broken. “Shall we take you home?”
Dionysos looked at the horizon, and caught his breath in alarm. “Fast,” he said. “The sun’s setting.”
Chapter Fifty
Zoe hated herself for constantly checking Tab’s social network pages, but she did it anyway. Kinda frequently, to be honest. So by now, as she neared the end of her work shift, she learned Tab was somewhere called the Nectar Club in Seattle, playing host to The Luigis—which Tab knew was one of Zoe’s current favorite bands.
Zoe could jump on her ghost horse and speed to Seattle. But she wouldn’t, not without an invitation. She did have pride. She considered using the excuse of going to keep an eye out for Thanatos, who’d been lurking round Washington state these days. But Freya and Niko were already there, and they hadn’t invited her either.
Fine, didn’t care. She had her grown-up job to attend to, her family, much more important things to do. But in actuality, her job had been so quiet today that the hours dragged, and Zoe had felt unneeded by the whole of New Zealand. She had spent most of the weekend and today brooding upon the life of Hekate.
A few days ago, she’d reached the horrible kidnapping she already knew about, because Adrian had told her of it years ago. But actually “living” it shook her much harder. She had gone over it in her head a few extra times, not because it was easy—in fact, it dealt a good deal of pain—but because it put other problems in perspective. Such as being ignored by an annoying, hot, American teenager.
&
nbsp; She clicked her mouse through work records, but her mind paid no attention to them. Instead it dwelled upon the day when Adrian, still wheelchair-bound but undergoing his pomegranate explosion of memories, had texted her, Please come over. I really need to hug you.
She had obeyed, though didn’t quite understand why he was so emotional, even when he explained. After all, this stuff happened like how many thousand years ago?
But now she got it. Fully. And if he didn’t come back for a visit soon, she’d hop on her horse and go find him and hug him. Sophie too. Invitation or not.
Lovers were a pain in the arse. Your affection for them, and theirs for you, could be there one day and gone the next. But your parents, your children, they mattered forever.
Hekate’s vision swayed, from weakness as well as from the waves rocking the ship. Hermes picked her up. Dionysos spoke softly to her, reassuring her all would be right soon. Kerberos yipped and whined and wriggled. Hekate lowered her arm to let the dog lick it, his warm tongue comforting her and reviving her depleted blood.
Hermes carried her across the deck, then stopped and swore. “Wonderful. There’s more of them.”
Dionysos grimaced. “Must have been watching from that island.” He glanced at her and explained, “Another boat, headed here.”
Hekate whimpered, which she hoped would convey that she wished she could fight them with magic, but couldn’t yet; she needed more time to recover. At the moment she still couldn’t even talk.
“We could switch realms,” Hermes said, “but then we’d be in the water. Our horses are back at Argos. And there’s only so fast either of us can swim.”
“We can row you fast,” a man said. “But only if you get on board now.”
Soon Hekate was being transferred down to a smaller boat, and laid across Dionysos’ lap. Oars creaked and the boat began moving. A sail was hoisted; someone shouted that the wind would help now. It chilled her face and hands, that wind, but felt blessedly fresh after the murky confinement of the box, which she had sensed in a half-aware way while floating in pain.
Dionysos tried to smile down at her, but a cringe crinkled his gray eyes. He stroked her temple. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I should have done better.”
She smiled back. She felt the dried blood on her face crack and flake with the motion. She cleared her throat with an effort. “You found me.”
He shook his head, looking across her. “Hermes did that. He was the clever one, thinking to use Kerberos. I’d have been hopeless on my own. I always am.”
“How long has it been? Do my parents know?”
“Almost two days,” Hermes said. He leaned into her field of view. “And yes, they do and they’re mad with worry.”
“I sense them.” She frowned. “They’re moving away from me. Why?”
“Probably to wait for you at home.” But Hermes’ reassurance sounded a bit brittle. He looked back at their pursuers, and called, “Faster, men! Dionysos, let’s take the oars ourselves. Give these poor fellows a break.”
Dionysos laid Hekate carefully on the floor of the boat and stepped over the bench seats to take the place of one of the rowers. Kerberos hopped over to lie beside her, and licked the blood from her. Everywhere his tongue touched, a boost of well-being bloomed in her body.
Soon the boat surged ahead with extra speed as the two immortals began rowing. Watching the ruffling sail, Hekate lifted one hand into the air, feeling the wind. She silently asked it for cooperation. This kind of magic took minimal effort when the elements were amenable, which luckily this wind was. A breeze swept in, a small thing directed only into their sail, and helped speed them along.
“The sun’s almost set.” Dionysos sounded even more despairing. Hekate wasn’t sure why. Was sailing that dangerous in the dark? Weren’t they fairly near shore?
“They’ll have sensed her if they came out,” Hermes said firmly.
“I suppose,” Dionysos said.
Who, her parents? Indeed, Hekate imagined, they must be frantic. Goddess only knew what madness they were up to out there.
“Damnation,” Hermes said. “Look.”
From the floor, Hekate glanced around. Everyone was frowning ahead.
“I don’t suppose they’re coming to tell us something complimentary,” Hermes added.
“Another Thanatos boat?” Hekate asked weakly.
“That’s my guess. Armed, belligerent-looking men headed straight for us. I’d rather not stick around to inquire.” Hermes handed off his oar and stood up. “We’re near enough to shore now. It’ll be cold, but…Dionysos? Think we can manage?”
Dionysos crouched near her again. He nodded and gathered her up. “You take Kerberos. I’ll take her.”
Swung up into Dionysos’ arms, Hekate could see across the edges of the boat again. She turned her head and found, in the fading sunset, the new enemy boat plowing through the waves toward them, the men shouting something at them. She supposed it could be a surrender or a plea for negotiation, but indeed, she wasn’t keen on getting close enough to find out. Last time they got that close, she was clapped into an oak box.
Hermes clicked his tongue at Kerberos. “Here, boy. Time to switch.” The dog came to him, and Hermes picked him up. He turned to the rowers. “My friends, thank you a hundred times. Here’s your extra silver.” He tossed a bag to their feet. “I hope they give you no trouble, but please, tell whatever lies you must in order to save your lives. Claim we took you hostage, if that helps. Or hand over all the silver. We’ll get you more. Time for us to go. Farewell and the Goddess protect you.”
He nodded to Dionysos, and with a jolt, the boat disappeared and they fell into the sea.
The chill of the water shocked Hekate. All of them gasped; Kerberos grunted and began paddling madly. Dionysos, treading water, helped Hekate keep her head above the sloshing surface. “Get onto my back,” he said.
She spat brine out of her mouth and threw her arms and legs around his back. He and Hermes and Kerberos began to swim for shore. Hekate tilted her face to the darkening blue winter sky. The sea was cold, yes, but the water teemed with magic, nearly as much as the waters of the Underworld. She basked in it and invited it in. Healing tingled all over her. Her strength increased.
And at least this way she and her garments were getting washed.
A dark hump rippled upward from the surface, a few arms’ lengths away, then went under.
Dionysos twitched. “Did you see that?” he asked.
“Yes.” Hekate squinted at the spot, trying to sense through the water what they might be sharing space with. In the spirit world, possibilities were limitless. Hadn’t Poseidon claimed he’d seen sea monsters? But animals avoided the immortals. Usually.
“Keep swimming,” Hermes shouted between quick breaths. “It’s not much farther.”
A current beneath them sent a rush of colder water upward.
Dionysos jolted again. “Something just bumped my foot! Something huge.”
“Lovely.” Hermes sounded tense. “Keep swimming.”
Hekate thought of the blood rinsing off her body and clothing. Surely that would attract sharks or other hungry fish. Best not to suggest that to the men. Shore was near enough now that she could see individual logs on the beach. Still watching the water to the side, she spotted another long ripple, some creature skimming close to the surface.
Just as she began composing a silent message to send out, something to announce they were harmless and the creatures should let them pass, the sea’s surface burst open in front of them. A huge hill rose up, water sluicing off it. Five or six immensely long tentacles waved and uncurled, lifting up higher than any sailboat mast Hekate had ever seen.
They all yelled in alarm, and Kerberos barked angrily. The water knocked them around together in the new chaotic waves churned up by the giant creature.
“Dear Goddess.” Hermes sounded half-panicked, half-impressed.
“Don’t suppose it’ll leave us alone like the beasts usu
ally do?” Dionysos clutched Hekate’s arm with one hand while swishing the other through the water to keep them afloat.
Hekate looked for a face on the creature, but in the fading twilight couldn’t tell which of the spots and splotches on its dark green body might be eyes. If she could look into its eyes, or touch it, she might be able to get a better reading on its intentions…
The water foamed up around them. A curl of green tentacle, as thick as Hekate’s whole body, surrounded Dionysos and Hekate and coiled around them.
“No no, no no no,” Dionysos said. The slimy coils tightened, lifting them out of the water. Even with his great strength, he couldn’t push or fight free, nor could Hekate.
Next to them, another coil had picked up Kerberos, who snarled and bit to no effect.
And another had captured Hermes, who was struggling to get at the sword on his belt, but the tentacle blocked it. “Come on, you wicked monster,” he shouted, “put us down and go back where you came from!”
“Don’t shout,” Hekate called. “Let me try.” Now that she was touching the animal, she closed her eyes and concentrated on its deep-sea energy, the spirit-world magic flowing in its chilly veins.
She found the beast was curious, mostly. It would eat them if no other idea occurred to it, but mainly it had swam up to them because they were unlike anything it knew and it wanted to investigate them.
She sent out her plea, bending the magic to meet her will, asking for the creature’s help.
“Hekate?” Dionysos said, nervously.
The tentacles swung them forward, sweeping them dizzily over the surface of the sea. Above the waves that broke white off shore, the creature released them. They plunged in over their heads. Hekate lost her grip on Dionysos and tumbled feet over ears underwater. She held her breath and kicked upward, and broke through into the air. The next wave washed them onto the sand. Kerberos lunged out of the surf and shook off his fur in a spray. Hermes, Dionysos, and Hekate all rose on hands and knees, coughing and snorting and picking off kelp.