A shadow flashed in her mind: Hades, black as a bat’s wing, titanic as his sister Demeter stretched across miles of desert. In her mind he wrapped them in cold, and spit them out as bones.
“He’ll let us go, right? We’re fighting for his side.” Odysseus drew his sword, for all the good it would do. It didn’t matter that they fought for the side of the gods. It didn’t matter that Athena had been a good niece up till then, and had gone out of her way to keep from pissing him off. She’d stolen one of the dead, and the dead were his. It was his only rule.
When Hades came into view, he looked as young and handsome as Ares or Aidan. Not a walking embodiment of death or disease. It hadn’t taken him over like it had his brother Poseidon. But Athena knew that what she’d seen in the back of her mind was the true Hades: a great, black shadow contained in skin and an expensive shirt. Just the sight of him made her mouth go dry. His voice made her shudder, even though he didn’t address them.
“Persephone. Are you all right?”
Odd thing to ask when she looks six months into her coffin.
“As well as one can be, when one is held prisoner in one’s own home,” Persephone replied.
Hades looked over every inch of his bride with affection in his eyes. He didn’t flinch from a single, terrible bit, not the purplish wrinkles in her skin or the bare red spots in her scalp. His gaze lingered on her face and, finally, on her bound wrists.
We should untie her. We shouldn’t have tied her.
Ares apparently thought the same thing; his hand twitched over the knots where he held her fast to him, like a human shield. Aphrodite went to his side and put a hand on Persephone’s shoulder.
“We haven’t harmed her,” she said sweetly.
“That’s the only reason you’re still wearing your skin,” said Hades.
Athena and Ares exchanged a glance. Tread carefully. He could burst out from under that boy-shaped mask anytime he wants. And that’s all it is. All it ever was. But what’s underneath it now is far worse than what used to be.
“My dog lies shivering at my palace steps and my wife stands a hostage. And that is my dead boy.”
“I was never dead,” Odysseus said quietly.
“You’re still dead. The breath in you is stolen. And dead boys don’t speak to me.” Hades turned toward him, and blood poured from Odysseus’ mouth. He fell before Athena could catch him, and his sword clattered to the rocks.
“Stop it!” She went to her knees. Odysseus’ hands pressed to his eyes and red leaked through his fingers. He bled from his nose and his ears, sprayed blood from his mouth like water from a blowhole. Virus blackened his skin and ate it away as she watched.
Athena grabbed the sword and leapt for Persephone. It was skewered through her side before anyone had time to block Athena’s way. Persephone didn’t cry out. Stabbing her was like running a blade through a loaf of dry bread. But Hades paid attention, and Odysseus stopped bleeding.
“Don’t do that again,” Hades warned.
“Don’t make me.”
“We just want to walk out of here, with Odysseus.” Ares spoke boldly, but his eyes were ringed with white. Seeing a sword shoved through their cousin had rattled him, but what did he think a hostage was for?
“You shouldn’t have taken her,” said Hades.
“It was the only way to get you to bargain,” Athena said.
Odysseus had regained his feet. He spat blood onto the rocks. It still dripped from one ear and blinked from his eyes like tears, but that was just leftovers. Ares’ wolves fussed around him in a circle and stole licks from his clothes and fingers.
“So let’s bargain.” Hades motioned for them to cross the river.
“Not so fast,” said Ares. “Not until a deal’s in place. We walk out of here, and cut her loose at the threshold.”