Great.
Odysseus drew the sword from his back, but Ares shook his head.
“I don’t think Hades will entertain making any deals if you take his bride’s arm off.” He motioned for Odysseus to go up onto the bank. It would just be the gods of war. Ares would probably take the close quarters as an opportunity to throw a few elbows into Athena’s eye.
I can throw them right back. Let’s just get this done.
Persephone stilled when she saw them coming. Bits of the half of her that was fully dead and rotten floated in the Styx like so much fish food, scraped off by the grips of the shades. Her one usable, yellowed eye tracked their movements, while the milky-white rotten one twitched distractingly. Athena swallowed. She would have to grip those decaying arms. The fully dead side wouldn’t be so terrible, but on the still-rotting side the skin would slough off in Athena’s hands.
There was no time to get squeamish.
“Go!” Athena shouted at Ares, and he, always the gentleman, surged forward and punched Persephone square in the face. Athena heard Persephone’s teeth rattle, but the punch didn’t do much and she struck, slicing five deep gashes into Ares’ chest with her fingernails.
Athena grabbed Persephone’s mushy, rotting wrist and twisted it behind her back. The shoulder joint went farther than she expected and she almost let go, thinking it would come loose from the socket and tear free.
“Get the other arm, Ares!” Athena shouted.
He yanked it across his body and grabbed the back of Persephone’s head with his other hand to dunk her under the water. Athena ground her teeth.
Good plan, moron. Let her drink up some extra hate. It’s not like she needs to breathe!
Slowly, they dragged her toward the shore. As they neared the border between the living and the dead, Persephone weakened, but it still felt like wrangling a marlin. She jerked and thrashed and bit down hard into Athena’s bicep. Something in the half-dead saliva made the muscle go slack. But they were close to shore. The water rose to the middle of their thighs. Once they got to dry land on the far bank, Persephone would be easier to handle.
Ares roared. He dragged Persephone the rest of the way in heaving, enormous strides. Before he threw her on the bank, he drew his hand back to strike.
“Ares!” Aphrodite forced her way between them and shoved him hard. Knocking Persephone out was unnecessary. Once her feet left the water, she collapsed like a sack of rags. Athena and Odysseus watched Aphrodite help her up and lean her against the black rocks.
“Aphrodite’s a lot sweeter than I remember,” Odysseus said, and Athena regarded her grimly. Aphrodite could be tender, when she wanted to be. When she was sane enough to be.
“Just remember that she can turn back into a raging bitch at the drop of a hat.”
Odysseus nodded. He hadn’t forgotten the sight of her shoving a makeshift spear through Aidan’s back any more than Athena had. The mad, victorious light in her eyes. Athena couldn’t get it out of her head.
“She’s sweet because she needs us,” Athena said. “Because we suit her purpose. Don’t trust it. Don’t ever trust either of them.” She looked at Ares as he wrung the river out of his shirt. “And don’t care about them, either.”
Odysseus stared at Aphrodite, and narrowed his eyes. “No chance of that.”
Athena smiled slightly.
Odysseus nudged her with his shoulder. “Now what?”
“Now we wait for Hades. It shouldn’t take long.”
13
HUNTERS