Carnage: Nate Temple Series Book 14

by Shayne Silvers

  Of course, Charon saw me, waved happily, and angled his boat our way. He instantly stopped rowing upon seeing the pups thrashing about in the water, almost dropping his oar. He simply stared at them, completely motionless for about five seconds. Then he slowly swiveled his attention to his drunken passenger, who was still singing and oblivious to her surroundings.

  Charon feigned nonchalance by reaching into his lucky cooler for another beer, but his other claw made sharp shooing motions at me, silently urging us to get the ever-living fuck out of the Underworld. He had told me he would provide a distraction for when I brought the pups here. That plan obviously hadn’t worked out like either of us had intended. His passenger suddenly noticed their lack of locomotion and stopped singing.

  She sat up abruptly, swaying back and forth as her unsteady gaze zeroed in on me. Then she yanked her sunglasses off and squinted, triangulating my position via the three versions of me she no doubt saw.

  I spun to Kára, who was still trying to encourage the wolves to join us. Instead of listening, they had begun paddling towards the canoe, drawing the drunken passenger’s attention. Charon grimaced, sighed, and then began paddling his boat to shore, resignation on his face.

  “We need to leave. Now!” I hissed at Kára.

  “They don’t listen!” she said. I sighed, running through a dozen cover stories we might try to slip past Her Drunkenness. Charon’s boat scraped onto shore and he shook his head helplessly. Then he downed his beer, once again moisturizing his face with alcohol.

  The drunk woman held up a hand, sensing my desire to bolt. “Wait, or I’ll call for help!” she crowed. Then she pointed a finger in Charon’s general direction. She had about a bajillion bracelets on, so it sounded like a prison gang clanking along in a forced march. “Oil my back!”

  Charon rolled his eyes so that only I could see, but he obeyed, turning to face his passenger as she hunched forward to give him a better angle. “Yes, Lady Hera,” he rasped, popping the cap off a bottle of suntanning oil.

  I shared a significant look with Kára but she shrugged, offering no suggestions.

  I sighed. The party was just getting started.

  50

  Hera unhooked the shoulder of her toga and let the fabric drop to her lap with the same flair of sexual appeal as a mother of eight dropping her rucksack-sized purse and coupon book on the register counter after herding her swarm of children around the store for the last two hours. She draped her arms over the side of the boat and hunched forward much as the Kraken would wrap his tentacles around a ship to capsize it—and in a poll of who wore it best, the Kraken won.

  Kára actually gasped in horror, taking an involuntary step back. That being said, Hera had a mighty nice…coupon book, proving that there really was a god of plastic surgery on Mount Olympus.

  The obvious dichotomy made my head spin. I studied her face, wondering why I’d initially thought she looked old. Upon closer inspection, she was downright ravishing, with nary a wrinkle on her face. But something about her eyes, posture, and soul-deep slovenliness made it impossible for me not to envision Miss Hannigan from the movie Annie.

  And not just because she was roaring drunk. She simply had that defeated, last call look on her face, as if she’d lost one of her heels five drinks ago, and now she was down to her last cigarette, slouching as she scoped out the available gents at the bar with a squinty eye, ready to one-up her personal best in decades of poor life decisions.

  Impossible as it was for me to believe, I actually felt a brief pang of sympathy for Zeus.

  “To what do I owe this pleasure, Lady Hera?” I asked politely, discreetly signaling Kára to get the pups under control. They had waded back onto shore and were shaking off their fur and pawing at the aged canoe. They didn’t seem any different than before their swim, and I began to fear that my ploy to make them invincible hadn’t worked. Since I’d risked my friendship—and life—in the attempt to stick to my promise to Gunnar, I was going to be rightly furious if it hadn’t worked.

  And now I had this walking mugshot of a woman to deal with.

  Kára didn’t seem eager to get too close to Hera or Charon.

  Hera eyed me askance with a dignified air as if she was price-checking a personal massager at the local dollar store. Kára coughed back a laugh, not trying very hard to hide her amusement.

  “I imagine you want to see that walking infestation of pubic lice as much as I do or you wouldn’t be down here,” Hera drawled, squinting at me. I arched an eyebrow, surprised at her description and not entirely certain who she was talking about. “Zeus,” she slurred, somehow turning it into two syllables. “My dear husband,” she clarified dryly. “Why do you think I’m down here? It certainly isn’t to see how disgustingly in love my brother is with his wife, Persephone. Love is for losers. Real happiness is in daiquiris.”

  Right…

  “Oh. Well.” I scratched at my head, trying to get a read on Charon. He continued to oil her back, refusing to look up at me. I eyed Kára’s trident, comparing it to Charon’s paddle spear, and I didn’t like our odds. With Hera’s open disdain for her husband, and remembering something Prometheus had casually said, I took a gamble. I needed a way to distract Hera, but maybe I could actually get something useful out of her in the process. A weapon powerful enough to take down a Titan. That could always come in handy. And I knew just the one to make Zeus’ skin crawl—especially if I could get his own wife to give it to me.

  Cronus’ Scythe—the blade Zeus’ daddy had used to castrate his own father, Uranus. It all came down to how drunk Hera really was. “I need to obtain a weapon. Borrow it, really,” I said.

  She leaned closer, almost dropping her sunglasses into the water as her elbow slipped over the side of the boat. I could have used her daiquiri as a level to hang a picture—it didn’t even tilt one degree off center.

  Because Hera was a hero with priorities.

  She took a big gulp of fortification, smacking her lips after. She frowned at me, chewing over the word weapon as if it might have made sense three drinks ago. “Don’t you have the Armory to play with?”

  The pups finally grew bored with the drunken boaters ignoring them and trotted over to me. I let out a sigh of relief, calmly bending down to rest my hand on Calvin’s back. Kára did the same with Makayla and touched her foot to mine, completing the link so that she could get us out of here if things went south.

  I felt her watching my face, waiting for a signal. I studied Hera, deciding to keep pressing and see where this led. “I was hoping for something a little bit more…nostalgic.”

  She arched an eyebrow and then a wicked grin split across her face. “Oh, sweet Dionysus’ nipples. You don’t mean…” she trailed off as if not sure she dared to say it out loud. Or maybe she’d lost her train of thought.

  “An heirloom. Some might even call it the key to your grandfather’s family jewels.”

  She blanched, looking as if she was about to vomit. “Too far. Way too far.”

  I laughed nervously, shifting my weight. “I was just trying to make sure we were talking about the same thing. Your father’s sickle. Cronus’ scythe.”

  “Charon!” she bellowed, waving her arms dramatically and almost knocking him overboard. “Make some room on this boat! It’s time to collect the CASTRATOR!” Her voice rocked through the Underworld, and even Cerberus hunkered low, letting out a triplet whine.

  At least I now knew Hera and I were on the same page—and that she hated her husband.

  Kára stared at me in disbelief. I would have settled for baptizing the pups in the River Styx and escaping with our lives, but to convince my enemy’s wife to give me the blade used to kill her own grandfather? Hell yes. I was going to stir some shit up, all right. It was exactly what I needed to better my odds for that last move in our game.

  Between one moment and the next, a gleaming cigarette boat idled throatily in the river and I gasped, blinking in astonishment. “Why the fuck do you ride a canoe when yo
u can do this?”

  He shrugged. “Well, I actually have a new boat that Quinn MacKenna gave me, but it failed inspections, so it’s in the shop.” I blinked. Quinn MacKenna. Again. Charon continued. “I am a simple man. I just wish to drink and float. Going over a hundred miles an hour makes the beer splash all over my face from the wind.” He poured a beer on his mouth, splashing his face. “Much better to chill and savor the flavor. Better for the heart.”

  Kára looked baffled that his solution to spilled beer was…spilled beer. “We should probably hurry. We each have counterparts here who might have a lot of questions.”

  Charon spit into the water. “Fucking Anubis.”

  “My sweet brother, Hades,” Hera added.

  “Freya or Odin,” Kára murmured uncomfortably.

  I glanced at Calvin and Makayla who were wagging their tails. “Puppies wanna go for a…ride?” I asked, drawing out the question with overt enthusiasm.

  They barked crazily, their tails wagging so hard they seemed to propel the pups up into the gleaming cigarette boat. I grinned at Kára, leaning forward. “Now this is a fucking date.”

  She smiled shyly, her green and blue eyes twinkling in the brimstone sunset of Hell, and my breath caught for a moment. Then she was laughing as she climbed up into the boat. I followed suit, shaking my head at the absurdity of going on a party cruise with my enemy’s spiteful wife. Charon cracked open some beers and passed them around. “Hold onto your favorite body part.” He eyed me and then Kára pointedly. “Your own favorite body part, not someone else’s.”

  I scowled at him, and Kára burst out laughing, seeming to embrace the prospect of dashing our careful plans in favor of an unanticipated, impromptu adventure. She stood at the prow of the ship, reminding me of a vaunted figurehead on a pirate ship. I grinned back at her.

  Charon cackled and floored it. I almost flew off the back of the boat exactly one-tenth of a second later, but Kára caught me by the shirt with one hand.

  I opened my mouth to thank her, but the words froze on my tongue. Oceans of lava silhouetted her from behind and her eyes smoldered. She pulled me closer, fighting the roar of the wind ripping through the boat without any noticeable effort. Over the roar of the engines, I thought I heard Hera cackling.

  Kára didn’t pay her any attention as she pulled me close to her chest. She stared down at my lips; her eyes impossibly huge.

  “Stay still,” she whispered. Then she leaned forward, craning her neck, and pressed her lips against mine. She whimpered faintly upon contact and my toes curled as she slowly kissed my lips, only enough for me to feel the inside of her lips taste mine. Then she pulled back slightly.

  “Your turn,” she whispered breathlessly, trembling with fear and uncertainty and hope and—

  I leaned close before she could flee and mimicked her kiss to the letter—a single, teasing, maddening taste of her mouth using only my lips. Then I just as slowly pulled back, my heart hammering in my chest and my scalp and neck tingling. She panted raggedly, sucking in her lower lip with a dreamy, faraway look in her eyes and a growing goofy grin on her face.

  I knew my own smile was just as big as I struggled to think of anything beyond the taste of her mouth and the unknown catalyst that had caused the surprise kiss.

  Without a word, she turned away and walked to the bow, seeming to float, her shoulders lighter. Her arms rose to catch the wind and she flung her head back, letting out a wild, carefree shout.

  I stared transfixed as the boat screamed out of the River Styx and onto the lava waves. No matter how much the boat rocked, Kára remained unmoving, standing almost lazily as her eyes pierced the horizon, soaking up the future ahead. Calvin and Makayla stood on either side of her, hanging their heads out of the boat, panting and snapping at the air.

  Hera arched an amused eyebrow at me, lifting her glasses with a finger. Then she cackled again before sipping on her frozen daiquiri. “Foolish boy. You remind me of Icarus.”

  I grunted and sat down. “Says the spinster hiding underground to avoid her husband.”

  That shut her up.

  I let out a sigh, hanging my head. “Sorry. I’ve had a trying day. Your husband has pushed me to my limits.”

  She studied me from over the lip of her glass. “Try marrying him,” she said crisply.

  After a few minutes of tense silence, Calvin and Makayla hopped down from their perch and sidled up next to me like guard dogs. Hera eyed them nervously. “I saw what you did. It will have consequences, boy. My husband does not appreciate insubordination.”

  I met her eyes levelly. “Can’t be insubordinate if I never worked for him.”

  “That’s what they all say. At first.”

  “And did any of them come to Hell with a Valkyrie, dip their mist wolves in the River Styx, and ask an Olympian for the Castrator?” I asked her in a resolute tone. “An immovable object is about to meet an unstoppable force. Your husband is going down, Hera.”

  She took off her glasses and studied me with hesitant excitement. “Oh, I sure hope so, dear boy. I sure hope so.” She put her glasses back on and took a deep breath, smiling at the pups. “I’ll talk to Hades about them. He’ll need to cool down a little first, so I recommend this trip stays short and sweet or he might react emotionally. You men never know how to keep your emotions in check,” she chuckled, shaking her head.

  “What are you doing down here?” I asked, ignoring her jibe. She wasn’t wrong.

  “Hiding from my husband, like you so eloquently stated. Hades granted me sanctuary after I put a little bug in Zeus’ ear.” I arched an eyebrow and she chuckled. “He means to kill me.”

  Zeus’ original task echoed in my ears—how he wanted to kill someone very powerful. “Wait. You’re the person he’s trying to kill?” I hissed. What a fucking stroke of luck! I could have cried.

  She frowned. “Of course. Who else?”

  I kept my face calm as a new thought hit me. If that was true, why had he roped me into this? I wouldn’t have cared at all. Of course, I couldn’t tell Hera this fun fact. “Why?”

  She shrugged. “I told him there was a traitor in his midst, and he became a tad paranoid. I think he wants to kill me for answers.” She calmly sipped at her drink again, frowning to see that it was almost empty.

  I pondered her words, wondering why Kára was still standing at the front of the boat rather than joining our conversation. “Who is the traitor?” I asked Hera, fearing it would be Aphrodite.

  Hera shrugged disinterestedly. “I have no idea. We were having an argument and I wanted to hurt him, so I just pulled that beauty out of the hat.” She smiled smugly. “Must have worked too well. He tried to get an audience with the Sisters of Fate, but they denied him. I love it when my husband doesn’t get what he wants.”

  I stared at her, stunned. I didn’t dare pick apart the irony of her last comment. Zeus had said the opposite about the Sisters of Fate. He…had bluffed. Which meant he didn’t have all the cards he pretended he did. “Let me get this straight. You had an argument and set your husband, the Father of the Olympians, on the warpath against everyone, making him believe a made-up conspiracy theory that risks the world…all so you could win an argument.” She pondered my words and then simply nodded. “What was the argument about?”

  She frowned. “I can’t recall. Nothing important.” I stared at her in silence, unable to kickstart my brain. She sniffed at the look on my face. “It’s what we women do,” she snapped stubbornly. “Win arguments.”

  I leaned back against my seat, wanting to scream at the crazy drunk. “Lady, I don’t even know where to begin with that comment.”

  She leaned forward aggressively. The mist wolves snarled protectively until she pulled back. “Did you expect me to just back down and lose the argument? He was wrong. I’m certain of it.”

  I closed my eyes and counted to ten. This lady was unbelievable. No wonder Zeus was insane. He might have already been insane, but she’d only added fuel to the fire. I opene
d my eyes and looked at her. “Let’s shelve hindsight. It’s too late to look back on the past and point fingers. I’m now stuck in a shitty situation, and these Titan Thorns are preventing me from defending myself. Can you get them off of me?”

  Hera leaned closer, touching them with her free hand. She didn’t set down her drink, of course. Oh, no. That would have been a party foul. She grimaced and pulled away, brushing off her fingers. “Only true love could remove those. Filthy thing.”

  I was unsure whether Hera had meant that true love was a filthy thing or if she’d been referring to the Titan Thorns. “Where are we going, exactly?” I asked, hoping she didn’t answer with happy hour. “Where is Cronus’ Scythe?”

  “It hangs in Hades’ office.” Her smile grew darker. “As does his Helm of Darkness.”

  I felt a cool sweat pop up across my brow, especially when Charon muttered a curse behind me. “The Helm of Darkness,” I repeated. “That makes the wearer invisible, right? One of the three gifts the brothers received: Hades got the Helm, Poseidon got his trident, and Zeus got his lightning bolt.”

  She nodded. “The Helm of Darkness isn’t as helpful in a direct fight as the trident or bolt, but it could be an ace up your sleeve. Especially if you have Cronus’ Scythe.”

  I thought over my previous plan and I soon felt a grin of my own creeping across my face. “Yeah. That might just do the trick, Lady Hera.” Then I hesitated. “How are we going to convince Hades to let me borrow it? Zeus is his brother.”

  Hera waved a hand dismissively. “He hates his brother for locking him away down here. You’ll soon learn that as much as everyone fears Zeus, they hate him even more.”

  “Hades will just lend me the Helm?”

  She snorted. “Never in a million years. We’re going to steal it.”

  I blinked. “You want me to rob Hades?”

  She shot me a withering look. “You’re planning on killing Zeus. What’s a little breaking and entering? Don’t let your balls fall off now, boy. Judging by that kiss, you only just hit puberty.”