“So, the Derbys. Are they really your family? Or just mortals you befriended and bewitched with roasted chicken?”
“They really are,” Hephaestus said. “Or at least, they’re my descendants. The first Alexander Derby II was my biological son. I’ve lived a whole saga here. Heartbreak and triumph. Wars fought and won. Generations of family.” He frowned. “And then this.” He held up his twisted and curled hand. “Now my real family comes knocking.”
“Athena was here,” Hermes said. “At the end of this past summer. Briefly.”
“I know. I felt her, luckily, before she felt me.”
“So far before?” Hermes asked. “No offense, but, steel robot legs or not, you don’t look like you can make a speedy getaway.”
“My body is twistier, that’s for certain,” Hephaestus replied. “But the limp is nothing new, and I’ve learned the need for escape plans. There are ways out of here, my friend, that you can’t even imagine. Be careful what doors you go through.”
“Sounds ominous,” Hermes said, and stuffed another bite of chicken into his mouth.
“So it does. But it’s a necessity.”
“I didn’t want to find you this way,” Hermes said. “I imagined you in a suit not so different from the one you’re wearing now. But there were no crutches, or braces. I thought … I hoped, that maybe you had a bigger cane. Maybe one of those canes with four feet at the bottom.”
“And I hoped you’d somehow been able to outrun the whole mess.” Hephaestus chuckled. “But here we are. And here it is.”
Here it is. And damn it, how I hate to ruin such a nice lunch.
“You’ve heard about the war, haven’t you,” Hermes said quietly. “And you’ve heard about your mother.”
Hephaestus looked down, and picked up his wine.
“Yes,” he said. “Hera has fallen. Shall we pour a libation for her out on the floor?” He shook his head. “I heard.”
“She didn’t try to contact you? Didn’t try to get you to come over to her side?”
“She didn’t. And I would have said no, anyway. Dying gods tearing each other’s throats out just to be the last gods standing. Even if you win, what kind of survival is that? What kind of victory? It’s vulgar. No, when Mother needed help, she didn’t turn to me. She went to her favorite son, like she always does. Like my own damned wife does, for that matter.”
Ares and Aphrodite. They always enjoyed humiliating you.
“I thought you gave Aphrodite back,” Hermes said.
“Zeus wouldn’t take back the bride-price. He said I was stuck with her.”
Hermes laughed. Nothing remained on any of the platters except chicken bones and a few sprigs of asparagus. Both bottles of wine were dry. And he needed to get back to Andie and Henry. He’d been gone too long already.
“I’m in the war, Hephaestus. I need your help. That’s why I came.”
“I just told you. I don’t want to be involved.”
“I know. And I wish I didn’t have to beg.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and stared into his empty plate. “I don’t want to die.”
Hephaestus sat quietly for a long time. Then he set his wineglass down with a clink.
“What do you think I can do for you?”
“I need you to forge us a shield for Hector of Troy.”
12
THE KIDNAPPING OF PERSEPHONE, REDUX
The knife in Ares’ hand shone dull silver. Athena tensed. He’d gotten the drop on her, but if he thought he and Aphrodite would get out of it clean, he was kidding himself. When he took one step forward, she would spring. And that knife might just end up buried in his gut. She might just saw the blade clear up to his throat.
Aphrodite stepped between them and slapped Ares’ hand.
“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t joke. Do you think because she’s unarmed she can do no damage?” She turned to Athena and apologized.
“A joke?” Athena asked. “That’s supposed to be funny? I could’ve torn your hand off.”