Neon Gods (Dark Olympus 1)

Petting them releases something in my chest, and I let my head rest against the wall and close my eyes. What kind of monster am I that I feel more loss at the thought of never seeing Persephone again than at Zeus’s horrific death? I don’t know, but I’m not monster enough to reach out. If I try to cage her, I’m no better than he was. I close my eyes.

She’s free.

I have to let her fly.

Chapter 31

Persephone

I wake up to news of Zeus’s demise. It’s all over the computer where my sisters huddle, watching with varying degrees of satisfaction. I lean over Callisto’s shoulder and frown down at the headline streaming along the bottom of the screen. “He fell to his death?”

“Blew out the window and jumped is what they’re saying.” Psyche sounds carefully neutral. “There’s no evidence that anyone else was involved.”

“But why would—”

My mother chooses that moment to sweep into the room. Despite the strangeness of the morning, she’s fully made up and wearing a smart pantsuit that displays her figure. “Get ready, ladies. There’s a press conference this evening with the Thirteen. They’ll be announcing an update on Zeus’s death as well as officially naming Perseus as the next Zeus.”

Callisto snorts. “Not wasting any time, are you?”

“There must always be a Zeus. You know that as well as anyone.” She claps her hands. “So, no, I’m not wasting valuable time.”

My sisters leave the room slowly, obeying her order but silently disapproving while doing so. I don’t. She’s too cheery, especially after calling in favors to convince half the Thirteen to betray Zeus last night and then leaving to “run an errand, nothing to worry about.” It’s too big a coincidence that he died the very next morning. “He didn’t commit suicide.”

“Of course he didn’t. He was the type of man who’d have to be dragged to the Underworld kicking and screaming.” She tips my chin up and frowns. “We’ll have to do something about the bags under your eyes.”

I knock her hand away. “You’re not the least bit concerned about the murder?”

“Are you?”

I open my mouth to shoot back that of course I am but finally shake my head. “I’m glad he’s gone.”

“You and the majority of Olympus.” She’s already turning away and scrolling through her phone. “Get ready. The car will be downstairs waiting to deliver you to the bridge to the lower city. You’ll have to make your way to Hades from there.”

We’re moving too fast. I stare at her, trying to see through the facade of perfection she presents. “Mother…”

“Mmm?”

How does one ask their mother if they committed murder? She’s capable of it. I know she is. But the question still sticks in my throat, jagged and coarse. “Did you…”

“Did I murder the bastard?” She finally looks up from her phone. “No, of course not. If I had, I would have chosen a less public way than throwing him through a window.”

I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be reassuring, but I believe her. “Okay.”

“Now that we got that out of the way.” She picks up her phone again. “I’m calling the first portion of your bargain due. Ensure that Hades attends the press conference this evening.”

Anticipation curls with anxiety. “You haven’t given me much time to deliver my pitch.”

“Give yourself some credit, Persephone.” She doesn’t look up from whoever she’s texting. “He’s in love with you. He’ll agree to anything that keeps you by his side voluntarily. You’d be a fool to ignore that opportunity.”

“Fine. I’ll see it done.”

“And bring Eurydice home.” Her tone softens. “It’s safe for her here now, and she needs her family while she’s dealing with her heartbreak over that idiot ex-boyfriend of hers.”

In this, we’re in agreement at least. “I will.”

There’s no point in arguing about my ability to convince Hades. My mother has seen every single one of her marriages as a stepping-stone to something better, her husbands as pawns to be manipulated rather than partners. It would never occur to her that I view Hades as my equal.

I walk into my room without another word. It doesn’t take long to get ready, though I do curse softly and add a little extra concealer under my eyes. After some consideration, I dress in a pair of wide-legged black slacks and a red blouse that’s so dark, it might as well be black. I pull my hair back into a sleek ponytail and add lipstick almost the same red as my shirt.

I start at myself in the mirror for a long moment. The image I’ve very carefully curated over the years is sunny and bright and filled with light colors and pink lips. I look like an entirely different person right now. I feel like a different person.

Good. The girl I was a month ago never would have had the audacity to make the bargain I struck last night. Such a small amount of time. So much changed. And we’re not done yet.