Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Why is it,” Dorian said confidently to the hushed, crowded room, “that my party invites always seem to get lost in the mail?”
We were all on our feet, though I wasn’t sure if it was out of respect, or in preparation for a fight. Tension flooded the room, sobering the joy I’d felt only moments prior. It didn’t matter that I’d known Poppy and Dorian were coming—I was as afraid for them as I was for all of us. The only thing on my mind was what it might mean for all of us now that they’d arrived.
“Hades,” Anath said slowly. She bared her teeth at Melqart, as if waiting for him to say something. I couldn’t fathom what she expected Baal’s son to say, aside from, Hey, Hades, only one god of the Underworld permitted per party.
“Please,” he said, “I’m going by Dorian. And you’ll refer to my partner as Poppy.”
“Dorian,” Anath began again. She took the name change in stride, which I supposed years of living in the human realm had allowed. Astarte had taken on a new moniker. I’d never learned Jessabelle’s Phoenician name. While Anath had intended to remain unseen in my presence, there was a very real possibility that she’d walked among the humans as Vivian, Ruby, or Caroline. She looked at both Poppy and Dorian before saying, “You’ll see that no Greco-Roman peers are in attendance. You were not intentionally excluded.”
I found the response profoundly curious. I’d expected the Canaanite gods to greet him with anger or defensiveness. I looked at Fauna, but she caught my questioning eyes only long enough to shake her head.
“Exclusion is a grave insult among gods and fae alike,” came Fenrir’s voice within my head alone in answer to my unspoken question. The powerful son of Loki, the wolf of Ragnarok, the god so terrifying that Odin himself had locked him up in fear, was explaining godly politics to the stupid human. “Dorian is right to call on it as his cause to arrive, and Anath is right to point out no disrespect has been committed.”
Fenrir looked away from me, and I took my cue to train my eyes on the exchange. Questions could wait.
“Melqart,” Dorian greeted his peer with a smile. “It’s been ages since I’ve had the chance to talk shop with a fellow guardian of the Underworld. What do you say? Care to share a few glasses of wine with a neighboring protector of the dead?”
The room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
“Of course,” Melqart boomed. I realized this was the first time he’d spoken loud enough for the banquet hall to hear since my arrival. I’d mistaken his initial silence for meekness. I saw him now, chest puffed, shoulders straight, as a youthful, Herculean figure—muscles and bravado—contrasted against his father. “You are most welcome in our realm.”
“Dorian,” Caliban said easily at my side. Our places at the table had us at a disadvantage. He was positioned in such a way where I couldn’t make out anything about his expression. “It’s been too long.”
“Well, we both have Underworlds to run,” Dorian said, moving his fingers from his forehead as if tipping an imaginary hat. “But a little birdy told me that four realms were present. The Canaanites, the Nordes, Hell, even Heaven, though I don’t see any angelic feathers here to ruffle at the moment.”
“And the humans,” I offered in a strained attempt at humor. Maybe I wasn’t entirely sober, or else I would have surely kept my mouth shut.
Dorian chuckled lightly. “And the humans,” he repeated. “Which makes five. That isn’t a very magical number. Six, however…”
“We’re honored by your presence,” Anath replied, choosing her words carefully.
“Great!” Dorian clapped his hands together enthusiastically while approaching the table. He grabbed the chair nearest to Caliban and pulled it out for his wife. She smiled prettily at him as if nothing in the world could bother her. “It’s been ages since Poppy and I have gotten out. But, now that we’re here, what’s the occasion?”
Baal narrowed his eyes from the far end of the banquet hall. He didn’t need to raise his voice for it to carry. “That wasn’t included in your little birdy’s message?”
“Oh.” Poppy rolled her eyes at Baal. I was shocked at the hardness in her tone. “Don’t be a sourpuss. You know how the realms talk. Now, will someone be putting food on my plate, or do I need to serve myself?”
I gaped at her boldness, but watched the corner of Dorian’s mouth twitch upward. She was a vision in pink and spring beauty—the firstborn daughter of Demeter, and a goddess of fertility, whether humans, plants, or animals. The sparkling obsidian pillars made her pale hair with pink-dipped ends stand out like an orchid in the midst of winter. I’d read that her abilities enabled her to give life to the dead, communicate with spirits, and bring a peaceful afterlife to those who deserved it. She’d seemed like such a benign figure in my mythological research.
Hades, like Zeus, was the son of Cronus. He was one of five in the first generation of powerful deities in the Grecian pantheon. Keeper of souls, conjurer of invisibility, master of Cerberus, and often believed to have control over the earth’s riches. He was not one to be underestimated.
I cocked a brow as I looked at them and marveled at how I’d ever found Persephone’s character mild, quiet, and congenial. Her femineity was no weakness. She dripped honey, which lured one in for the sting. Of course, they wouldn’t be fated mates if they weren’t well matched in every way.
Melqart flicked two fingers at an attendant. She moved quickly from her place amongst the others, the silken scarves of her banquet attire billowing behind her as she rushed to serve them. Her hands shook as she dished food onto their plates. Poppy touched her arm gently, which nearly caused the attendant to jump out of her skin. They held eyes for a moment until I saw the attendant visibly relax.
The woman’s immediate fears may have been assuaged, but mine certainly weren’t.
Anxiety weighed me down like lead. My heart skidded uncertainly, confident that the jig would be up any moment, that we’d be found out, though I wasn’t sure exactly what we were hiding. I had participated in the gathering of forces, ready to rescue my friends and my beloved, though it seemed I’d wildly misjudged the tenor of our travel. Fauna had readied me like we were going into battle, yet Caliban reacted to the presence of Nordes and Hellenic gods as if he knew more about the plan than I did.
It wouldn’t be the first time I was left in the dark.
It might surprise you how many pantheons have tried to tip the war in Hell’s favor. Everyone wants Heaven to fall.
I trained my eyes on Poppy and Dorian. His expression remained relaxed and amused. Poppy’s face stayed utterly serene. But there was something in the way she touched his back as he slid into the seat next to her. There was a comfort to it—a reassurance.
My lips parted as I looked at Dorian, ever the picture of power and cool indifference, and I understood what Poppy was doing.
The support was there in the face of rejection.
We’re subjugated gods, Poppy had said.
I saw it in every comforting stroke as she sustained him. His nonchalance was a beautiful show. I was on the Mediterranean cliffs once more, listening to her plea for change. They were Poppy and Dorian—Hades and Persephone. She held his jagged heart in her hands. Much like Fenrir, he’d been mistreated, overlooked, and underestimated by gods who were his peers in every way for thousands of years.
They’re equals. You think they’d be treated as such.
Melqart spoke this time. His tone was matter-of-fact as he met Dorian’s eyes, two champions of the dead discussing an immortal soul about to depart. “The banquet is on behalf of a trial. You’ve arrived in time for sentencing to be carried out. The citizens of Heaven and Hell, as I’m sure you are aware, were tried for crimes against our pantheon. The demon has opted for three thousand lashes, and the angel has selected death by combat. Tomorrow should be marvelous indeed. I’m pleased you could join us for the show.”
The words were horrifying, but the tone was inclusive.
I was equal parts relieved to hear Melqart smooth things over, and filled with dread as I remembered why we were here.
There was true regret on Dorian’s face as he said, “You know, I would love to. I’m a huge fan of torture.” He stopped to grab an artistically carved pitcher and poured wine into two clean goblets. First, he filled Poppy’s, then his own. “But you see, the lady isn’t a fan of my proclivities. And hey, we can’t force our partners to love our hobbies, am I right? We’ve woven something of a nonviolence clause in our vows. So, if you could hold off on the bloodshed until after we’ve departed, I’d consider it a personal favor.”
I could have cried at the surge of relief.
Dorian didn’t know Azrames, but he’d put his neck on the line to buy more time for our cause, though our motives may have been different. I was there to be reunited with my love, and to spare a demon and an angel from suffering on my behalf. Fauna cared deeply for Azrames, but as I looked at the Nordes and Greeks, I was certain she would have marched into the Phoenician realm even if her beloved had remained safely in Hell. They’d all come for some grander purpose. One that was inscrutable to me, aside from Fauna’s command.
Then start a war.
Azrames’s shoulders slumped forward slightly at my side. I hadn’t realized he’d remained tense from the moment the newcomers had entered. Of course, he had no idea why they’d come or what their presence could mean. I didn’t miss the way Fauna’s fingers tightened around his bicep.
“Fine,” Anath said, the semblance of patience evaporating on her lips. “Poppy doesn’t like blood, you say? We can oblige.” She turned to the banquet hall and lifted her hands with renewed vigor as she said, “Good friends, gods, and citizens! Tomorrow, on the final day of our banquet, we will see Heaven’s ambassador face our divine wrath in combat to the death.”
Poppy lifted a finger in protest, but Anath cut her off before she could speak.
“Don’t worry, goddess of spring and the Underworld. You are our guest, and we’ll honor your wishes. There will be no bloodshed. The estries will ensure there’s no blood at all.”
The word scratched the back of my brain ever so slightly. It was familiar. It was…My thoughts were cut short as Caliban rotated to look directly at me, apology in his eyes.
My brows furrowed with confusion.
A screech tore through the halls. It echoed off the walls, bouncing between pillars, penetrating me to my core. Wherever it resided in the palace, the intelligent harbinger of doom was listening.
I understood Caliban’s expression and my blood chilled. He was remorseful because he knew I cared for Silas. And whatever this announcement was…that was when the memory hit me. It was an old bit of folklore from the cradle of civilization that coincided with the timeframe around the Canaanite reign.
It was a succubus, a vampire, a demon. It was a creature of beauty, darkness, cruelty, and bloodlust. It was an alluring monster who sucked you dry and left nothing behind.
It was death personified.
It was the estries.