Hades shook his head. “You can’t trade him for her. She is already mine. He is already mine. Mine for mine. It doesn’t play.”
“We don’t have anything else.” Athena thought of Aphrodite but dismissed the idea quickly. It was going to be hard enough for Ares to leave Aphrodite behind as a voluntary guest, let alone as traded chattel, and Athena didn’t fancy having a brother-sister spat about it in front of their uncle.
“Not a trade at all, then.” Odysseus stepped forward and wiped blood from his nose onto the back of his arm. Athena half wanted to throttle him for opening his mouth, to ask him if he enjoyed hemorrhaging from all the holes in his face. But her other half was proud. Her Odysseus. Bold and two steps ahead of himself, as usual.
“Not a trade,” Athena agreed. “But a task. You’ve been known to lay tasks before, Uncle. They say you did it for Heracles lots of times, and he was only your half-nephew.”
“A task.” Hades smiled. Just enough time passed as he thought about it for Athena to dread putting it into his head. “A task it is. So here are the terms. The way up is through my palace. It is the only way up that will be allowed to you. And Persephone is released to me on the steps.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. After that, you’ll be free to leave. If you can fight your way out.”
*
Athena pulled the sword out of Persephone’s side and threw it to Odysseus, trying to ignore the dry bits of flesh that stuck to the blade.
“Nothing starts until we reach the palace,” Athena said, and nudged Persephone forward to cross the Styx again. Hades showed his palms and agreed, backing away from the shore to let them come. Athena looked past Persephone at Ares, and back at Odysseus. She’d fought everything the underworld had thrown at her in the dark and she’d done it bare-fisted and mostly blind. Now she had another god of war, and a hero with nine lives. It could work. They could make it.
Or they could wind up in pieces with Odysseus’ ghost sucking blood off their severed stumps.
They left the river, soaked through with hate for what felt like the hundredth time, and followed Hades through tunnels and past fields of asphodel. It wasn’t long until they’d left the tunnels completely, headed toward the massive marble columns of Hades’ palace. Like everything else in the underworld, the palace was half-illusion. It appeared as a great rectangle. But the closer they walked, the larger it became. Columns stretched up farther and the shadows between grew darker. It was easier to look at than the walls of the tunnels, at least, constructed of plain white marble rather than shifting, iridescent stones, but at its steps it blotted out everything else. Athena wouldn’t have been able to see the top had she craned her head all the way back.
This place sucks. I’ve never liked it. Never. Not even as a guest.
She looked back at Aphrodite, who stood at Persephone’s shoulder, absently stroking the half-dead goddess’ strawlike hair.
How could you ever think I would call you a coward for choosing to stay here?
A dog barked, and barked a second time. Cerberus emerged from behind a column and wagged his tail, then bared both sets of teeth when he saw Ares’ wolves. Oblivion and Panic flashed fangs of their own, but neither they nor Cerberus attacked.
Hades placed his foot on the first step and turned. Aphrodite gently untied the knots of Persephone’s bonds and let them flutter to the floor. Persephone rubbed her wrists, out of habit more than any real discomfort, Athena thought. In such an advanced state of decay, she doubted if Persephone felt much of anything anymore.
“There,” Ares said. “She’s free. And now you’ll let us pass.”
“If you can.” Hades nodded. Ares looked at Athena and placed a cautious foot on the steps. Hades did nothing. His word was solid. He still believed in the scales tipping even.