Chapter 15
DEMKE
I didn’t think I’d have to call on Hades so soon after seeing him last. Honestly, we could go another thousand years, and it would probably be too soon. Our relationship with Hades was much like our relationship with Cydon all those years; we were cordial, but mostly because the enemy of our enemy was our friend. Cy had proven his loyalty over the years, but I knew that Hades was only loyal to Persephone and his Underworld friends. Everything else depended on how he felt when he woke up in the morning.
He did hate the Fates, though, even though they supposedly dwelled in the Underworld with him. Or maybe because they dwelled there with him. He hated ninety-nine percent of the other Greek Mythics too. He hated basically everyone and everything, except Persephone, and just tolerated a few others.
As a God of Renewal, I’d been in the Underworld before he was King. Every year, I’d gone down there, when it was just a rough, fuzzy pit of darkness. As more religions were created, the more the Underworld had evolved into the Necropolis it was now. Hades had a lot to do with that.
So yeah, I was on good terms with him and his trusted advisors, but I wouldn’t call him a friend. It irked me to call him now and ask him the most important question I’d ever uttered.
First, though, we’d ply him with food and wine. There were few pleasures that could stand the test of time, but a perfectly made feast with kalitsounia, hirina apakia, and gamopilafo was one of them.
I’d sent a message to the Underworld, and the request had been accepted, so I’d been cooking for two days, with Erus and Tryp’s assistance. Sometimes, Milo would carry Wren down from the bedroom and sit her on the island counter, just so she could watch.
She tasted sauces and kissed Erus and Tryp easily, while a jealousy I hadn’t ever felt before burrowed in my chest. Instead of letting it fester, I fed her as much as I could. I didn’t let the worry I felt about the birth of her babies, or the Moirai, or the possibility of her death show on my face. I was her steadfast anchor, and her appreciation showed in small ways. A lingering touch, a soft smile.
However, I’d never wanted to be inside anyone the way I wanted to be inside Wren Mahone right now. She was dressed in a soft kaftan that billowed around her, though it stretched tight over her stomach. She looked like a goddess, but she was also terrifyingly mortal.
Now, as we waited for our dinner guests, Néit had her on his lap, his face buried in her nape as he breathed her in. I was nervous, but knew better than to let that show on my face.
Wren rubbed her stomach, and I thought about calling Teron into the room. “Are you okay?” I murmured, giving into the impulse to run my hand down her arm.
She nodded. “Cramps. They’ve been coming off and on all day. Teron said they’re Braxton Hicks.”
Nodding, I resisted the urge to reach out and cup her stomach. I trusted Teron’s medical opinion, and all I could do with my magic was vaguely tell her how close she was to giving birth, whether the babies were Mythics, and aid in the rejuvenation of her womb later.
None of that was helpful right at this moment.
The sound of a door knock reverberated around the room, and Erus bounced off the couch to open it like a spinning top wound too tight. We were all tense, I guess.
“At least they used the front door this time,” Tryp grumbled softly. “No one wants a portal to the Underworld in their living room.”
No one said much more as Erus led Hades and Persephone into the room. I was a little surprised to see a third member of their little Hell harem. Asclepius was a healing Demigod with such purity of heart and deftness of skill, Olympus couldn’t abide him to live and show them up as the petty, narcissistic assholes they were. Zeus had killed him, and rumor had it that Hades had snatched him before he could be completely obliterated. I wasn’t even sure Hades could stand between destiny and death like that, but I was not about to ask.
Cy perked up. Dressed in jeans and a shirt, he looked like he should be a cliff-diving college kid, not a Demigod who was the illegitimate son of one of the most powerful Mythics of all time. Or, I should say, one of the sons.
Apollo was a fucking manwhore, and he had more than a few progeny. But unlike Zeus, Apollo seemed to at least tolerate them all, if not love them all. It was said that Apollo had asked Hades to save Asclepius, who was one of his offspring, and now owed the God of the Underworld a great debt for the action, but again, that was hearsay.
“Brother! It is good to see you so well.” Arms wide, Asclepius walked over to Cy and hugged him tight to his chest. Asclepius was the real golden retriever of the two. Sweet, kind, and completely unsuited to the Underworld, I knew he survived down there purely because he radiated such goodness.
Cy patted his back before stepping away. “It is good to see you too, Clee. Let me introduce you to Wren.” He led him over to where Wren still sat with Néit. “Wren, this is my half-brother, Asclepius.”
Asclepius held out a hand to Wren, his eyes taking her in with a practiced manner of a man whose gift was healing. “Please, call me Clee. You are Cy’s little bird, I see.”
Cy gave a quick, sharp nod—perhaps too quick—before diverting Asclepius to Néit. “And this is Néit, Celtic God of War, current protector of the Mother of Fate.”
When I saw Wren narrow her eyes at Cy, I knew she hadn’t missed his unusual response either. I would question him later, when we were alone.
Waving a hand at Hades and Persephone, Erus indicated the sitting room. “Come in. Have a seat. Would you like a drink?”
Persephone gave a tinkling laugh. “Absolutely. I never turn down a good Creten wine.” She dropped her voice, leaning a little closer to me. “Apologies for the extra guest. We thought he might take a look at Wren, make sure everything’s going well.”
So they had brought him for his medical knowledge. I’d wondered, because he never usually made appearances topside. Not worth the wrath of Zeus, who was apparently still a little pissed about the situation a couple of thousand years later.
With this knowledge, something in me loosened. It was like the universe telling us we’d chosen right. “Thank you. It’s appreciated. Teron says that it’s soon, and my magic is going haywire. If our meeting wasn’t so important, we would have postponed it for a later date.” I included Hades in my thanks, because while it was probably Persephone who had pushed the idea, no one got in or out of the Underworld without his approval.
Shrugging, Hades picked at his nails. “Clee doesn’t get out enough, or get to use his healing abilities, since most inhabitants of our home are already well beyond even his skills. He likes to see Cydon as well. When Cydon’s down below, Cerberus monopolizes his time.”
Yes, Asclepius was one of the few people who Hades cared about. Possibly even loved. I knew that in the Underworld, Persephone had created a little harem of men, though I’d always assumed she was the nexus that held them all together. But Hades’s words, coupled with the look in his eyes, told me that maybe they all loved each other.
Given our situation, I wasn’t one to comment. “I’m glad it works for us all then.”
The Valkyries had gone to the house that Morrigan and Cliona had rented, and were having something called a mani-pedi-murder night. I hadn’t asked questions.
Erus reappeared with drinks. Persephone drifted toward Wren, stopping next to Asclepius, her hand resting gently on his spine. “I appreciate you coming on such short notice,” I said to Hades softly, who had flopped back into an armchair, like the weight of being topside was almost too much to bear.
“Any reason to get out of the house, you know?” He said it flippantly, but I knew he wasn’t as casual as he seemed. There were depths and treacheries to the Lord of the Underworld that made him a powerhouse, and also the perfect person for our life-altering request, just as Erus had said. Hades raised an eyebrow at me. “Plus, I must admit, I’m a little intrigued why a God who has studiously avoided me for a handful of centuries now wants me to make house calls.”
Curiosity would kill us all, eventually.
“Let’s eat first.”
Nodding, he lifted his glass. “ Yamas.”
Cooking traditional food made me feel like I was still in touch with my past. It was something that I’d fallen into after the Goddess had faded, something to keep me grounded in the world when I had nothing left but sadness and a desire to follow her.
And anger. I never talked about the anger, but I’d felt a rage that had burned hot enough to level cities at her betrayal of me, of my brothers, of the village that had devoutly followed her for so long, of the memories of those who fell in the fight for her. She had faded with little concern for those of us that were left behind, and I’d felt so betrayed.
So I’d cooked. It had kept my brothers fed in their own grief, and had been a way to connect with the village that also felt betrayed. I’d learned from the villagers, who’d continuously offered to cook for us, but understood when I wanted to do it for myself.
After all these years, it was the one thing that kept me sane. And now, as I looked down the long, rough-hewn table covered in food that I’d worked over diligently for the last two days, I felt pride. Wren was squished between Erus and Tryp, across from Persephone and Teron, and she was laughing and smiling. It was a brief moment of normalcy for her, which made me proud too.
Plates were heavily laden, and Asclepius was making happy humming noises around thick chunks of smoked meat. I looked over at Wren, who nodded.
She needed to ask the question. They were her children, first and foremost. As much as I wanted to navigate this for her, she had to do it herself. Clearing her throat, she got everyone’s attention. We were all tense, which none of the Mythics seemed to miss, especially not Hades, who lifted an eyebrow.
Wren, to her credit, didn’t waver. “Thank you for coming. I really appreciate it. And I’m not going to patronize you by pretending that we all don’t know there’s a reason I asked you here.” Sucking in a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders. “When I first arrived, on the word of some Oracle in the drive-thru of my barista job, I had no idea what the hell was going on. I unintentionally bonded these guys, tied their souls to mine.”
I found I had no anger about that anymore. I hadn’t felt this fulfilled in so long; it was hard to remember why I’d been so against it in the first place.
As if she could read my thoughts, she smiled over at me. My heart felt like it was blooming in my chest. “Apollo brought a second prophecy, after the attack with Ekhidna. I can’t remember the exact wording?—”
“ With the death of the mother, the new weavers will be born into the tapestry and a new age will begin ,” Cy interjected, the somberness of his tone so at odds with his normally bright nature.
Wren tilted her head at him. “That’s the one. It was a prophecy from Delphos.”
Hades’s jaw was tight, and I wasn’t sure if it was the mention of Apollo, or Delphos, or just the situation in general. “That seems problematic, but unfortunately, Asclepius can no longer resurrect people from the dead,” he said nonchalantly.
Wren just gaped. “Uh, what? No, that wasn’t…” Shaking her head at Hades, and then Asclepius, she blinked at them owlishly for a moment. “I didn’t even know that was an option , and even if it was an option, I’m not sure I’d want to be a zombie?” Her voice rose an octave toward the end, and I almost laughed. Nodding, Hades waved for her to continue. Wren was still shaking her head softly from side to side, but went on. “If the prophecy is true, and I die, it is possible that they will all come with me.” She pointed to me and the others around the table, each of us looking so serious, it was like we were already at her wake.
“And then these babies will be alone and nearly defenseless in a world where they’re hunted by all the different Pantheons for power. We decided, as a group, that we would ask—if the worst-case scenario happens, and we’re no longer around to care for them, would you consider taking them in and caring for them? Protecting them?”
Persephone gasped. Her eyes bounced between Hades and Asclepius, the former staring so intensely at Wren that I wondered if he was using his magic, and Asclepius, who just looked surprised. Persephone and Asclepius both turned to Hades, because the final decision would end with him.
“You want us to take your infants to the Underworld?”
“Yes, if we all die.” Wren sounded resolute.
Hades and Persephone had one of those silent conversations born from being with a person for centuries. Finally, he turned back to Wren. “We agree. We’ll care for them and protect them, until they are old enough and well equipped enough to protect themselves, and then we will return them to the living plane.”
Persephone reached across the table, gripping Wren’s hands. “We’ll love them like they’re our own flesh and blood.” She paused. “In the modern sense. Gods haven’t traditionally been great parents.”
Letting out a shaky breath, I watched something loosen in Wren’s frame. One more worry, gone.
Asclepius laughed. “Well, that was a curveball. I thought you might have called us here because Wren is so close to active labor. I’d give it about an hour?”
As one, the whole table turned and looked at a sheepish Wren. “Oops?”