Neon Gods (Dark Olympus 1)

That’s the trick, though. I don’t have to compete with the specter of the man who fathered me. He’s gone. He’s been gone for over thirty years at this point. I’m my own person, and it’s long past time for Andreas to acknowledge that.

I sink into the chair across from him. “I’m not my father,” I repeat slowly. “He trusted the rules and laws and it got him killed. He never saw Zeus coming.” A single truth that I’ll never reconcile. If he was as good as Andreas says, why didn’t he see the snake that Zeus is? Why didn’t he protect us?

I shove the thoughts away. No doubt they’ll be back to plague me in the lonely nights ahead, but right now, they detract from my focus. I can’t afford to miss a step. “I’ve spent my entire life studying Zeus. You think I won’t be able to anticipate him?”

“What can you do?” Andreas sounds like a ghost of himself, his once-booming voice faint and cracking. “What can you do against the king of the gods?”

I push slowly to my feet. “He’s not the only king in Olympus.” I jerk my chin at Charon. “Get him to his room and have someone stay with him. Then we need to talk.”

We get Andreas on his feet and I clasp his shoulders. “Get some rest, old man. We have a war to win.”

Andreas searches my face. “Hades?” A grin splits his craggy face. “Hades, my old friend. I’ve missed you.”

Not me. My father. My chest sinks, but I give his shoulders one last squeeze and let Charon herd his uncle out of the room. I stalk to my desk and pick up the bottle of whiskey Andreas left behind but put it down without opening it. No matter how attractive the thought of smoothing my rougher edges is, I need to be sharp tonight. Longer than tonight—until the end of this.

The door open behinds me with a faint creak, raising the small hairs on the back of my neck. Every instinct I have screams danger, but instead of spinning around and throwing the bottle of whiskey, I turn slowly, already suspecting who I’ll find. Only one person is capable of slipping past my security. Frankly, I’m surprised she actually used the door this time instead of appearing in my office chair as if by magic. “Someday, you’re going to have to tell me how you get past my security even when it’s at its highest.”

“Someday, maybe I’ll consider it.” Hermes isn’t wearing her characteristic grin. She’s dressed in a pair of black fitted pants and a long purple shirt that looks like a cross between menswear and a dress. The better to fit in with the shadows, apparently.

I walk around to lean against my desk. “Official business, I take it.”

“Yes.” Something like regret flickers over her features. “You misstepped, Hades. You shouldn’t have given him an opening. It’s tied all our hands, even those of us who consider you a friend.”

For some reason, that’s what gets me. Friends. I’ve barely been able to acknowledge the fact that she and Dionysus might be friends, and now they’re gone. Despite my determination to maintain control, hurt flickers to life. “Not that good of friends if we end up on the opposite side of a war.”

She narrows her eyes. “You don’t know what it’s like in the upper city. It’s a different world than it is down here. You might be the benevolent king of the lower city, but Zeus is another animal entirely. Crossing him requires paying a higher price than most of us are capable of.”

I wonder at that. I’ve known Hermes for years, but we’ve never talked about either of our pasts through mutual silent agreement. I don’t know where she came from, don’t know anything about her family or if she has one. I don’t know how high a cost she’d pay to try to stand against Zeus.

A sigh slips out. I don’t mean to sound so fucking tired, but the enormity of what’s coming will overwhelm me if I think about it too hard. I’ve planned for this possibility since I was old enough to understand what had happened to my parents and who was responsible.

I never planned on Persephone, though. The thought of her bearing any part of the cost? No. I won’t allow it. I don’t give a fuck what’s required of me.

“Let’s get on with it, then.” I motion for her to deliver whatever message she’s obviously brought. “What does the old bastard have to say?”

Hermes nods and clears her throat. Her voice, when it emerges, is a startling approximation of Zeus’s booming tones. “You have thirteen hours to return both Dimitriou girls to the proper side of the river. Failure to do so will result in the annihilation of you and everyone within your command. I can’t be held responsible for the civilian losses. Make the right choice, Hades.” Hermes exhales and gives herself a shake. “End transmission.” The joke falls flat between us.