Chapter 17
Hecate
Atalanta and I have worked separately more often than we’ve worked together over the years.
We couldn’t afford people to link us up publicly, so when we carved out time to spend together, it was in secret.
I learned to know the shape of her absence, to worry it like a missing tooth when I got to missing her.
This is so much worse. Our argument feels like a period instead of a comma, the end of something I never got the chance to explore properly.
Even with that sorrow weighing on me, my body sings with the memory of Circe’s touch. The sex was both familiar and intensely new, a reminder of the people we were when we first fell in love—and the people we’ve become in the meantime. And yet…
I grip the steering wheel tightly and try to talk myself out of taking the necessary next step.
Atalanta will see to the lower city. Surely Hades and the others will listen to her, will take precautions so Circe isn’t successful in bringing down the barrier.
I don’t know what happens after that, not when the people are fed up with the Thirteen.
If left to their own devices, maybe they’ll finish what we started, will bring down the government once and for all.
It’s messier than I wanted, without a clear path forward to rebuild, but it gets the job done.
And yet I’m incapable of giving up. It’s not in me.
I don’t know if it’s a sunk cost fallacy muddying the waters or if I actually have a chance to change Olympus’s course from the threat of mass violence into a calmer transition of power.
All I know is that I have to try—to convince the Thirteen to leave this city once and for all.
If they do, hopefully Circe will back down and accept exile as price enough for her pain.
Which is why my fool ass picks up one of the burner phones I took from Dionysus’s safe house and dials Circe. There’s no good reason for her to answer, and a thousand for her not to, but after a few rings, I hear her voice on the line.
“I don’t know this number, which means this is likely Hecate reaching out despite herself.” Her tone holds the same sweet warmth it did when she told me to come last night.
I shiver. “It’s not too late to stop this.”
“Hecate.” She sighs. “Unfortunately, dear heart, it was too late the moment I marched on Olympus. Artemis’s trial starts in the morning. Justice must be done.”
I grip the steering wheel so tightly with one hand that my fingers go numb. “Wholesale murder isn’t who you are.”
“We have this conversation again and again, and yet you never see. It might not be who I was, but it is who I am.” She pauses. “Just like a murderer isn’t who you were, but it is what you’ve become. I don’t judge you for that change, Hecate. I simply accept it.”
The truth of her words threatens to undo me. I can say I never wanted this, but I knew and accepted the potential cost when I took my first step down this path. I just never bargained on her. “Last night was a mistake.”
She laughs. It’s almost a perfect parody of the laugh I used to soak up like sunshine on a warm summer day, but there’s a ragged edge just beneath the surface. “Have I caused problems with you and the lovely Atalanta?”
“Keep her name out of your mouth,” I snap.
She laughs again, this time even brighter.
“I understand what you see in her, you know. She’s so strong and fierce and honorable despite the blood that stains her hands.
” Circe lowers her voice. “Do you know how she tastes yet, Hecate? I think you don’t.
It must have hurt her deeply to discover you slept with me, and after she lost a knife fight to me. Salt in the wound, so to speak.”
It did. It cut Atalanta right to the bone. No, not it. Me. My choices, my weakness when it comes to Circe. “I love her.”
Circe is silent for a beat. Not as if I’ve surprised her; more like she’s mulling over my words.
“You know, I actually believe that, even though you only said it just now to hurt me. Is today the first time she ever drew a proper boundary with you? How frustrating it must be to discover she’s not simply a doll you can pick up when you get around to it. ”
Circe has always known exactly where my fault lines lie.
It’s frustrating to discover a decade apart hasn’t changed that.
Calling her was a mistake. Sleeping with her was a mistake.
Loving her was a mistake. Except I can’t believe that last bit, thought my life would be so much simpler if it were true.
“You’re right. I was careless with her. I won’t be again. ”
“Good. She deserves better than to be treated like an afterthought.”
Circe in a nutshell. She’s complicated in the extreme, and clearly the time spent apart hasn’t changed that any. I sigh. “The mob will turn on you, one way or another. They won’t trade the Thirteen for a queen, no matter how pretty you talk.”
“Perhaps.” To anyone else, she must sound unbothered, but I know her. There’s a thread of tension in her tone, just beneath the charming surface.
“So you are worried about the potential.” I smile, pleased to know I’ve gotten under her skin. At least the phenomenon goes both ways. I’m not used to it being the other way around. “Well, good luck.”
“Hecate.” Her voice changes, the faint flirtation gone, replaced by icy seriousness. “Where are you right now?”
I take a turn off the main road. This one is still paved—nothing less for Demeter—but it’s far narrower. “Oh, here and there, hither, thither, and yon.”
“Whatever you’re planning—”
I mimic a crackling noise. “Sorry, can’t hear you. You’re breaking up.” I hang up the phone and flip it over to pull the battery and SIM card out. I highly doubt Circe would allow tracking on her phone, but no reason to make it easy on her.
I take another turn and ease to a stop in front of a massive industrial farm.
Demeter’s personal residence is on the other side of it, and technically I could drive right up, but there’s no reason to announce my presence.
Even with the city on the edge of disaster, industry churns on.
People have to eat, and they need the money their paychecks bring.
How strange it must feel to clock into their jobs while knowing that Olympus has fallen.
So much change, and yet so much stays the same.
I attach myself to one of the handful of groups showing up for shift change.
Circe has limited manpower, and no reason to look here, but it would be silly to give anyone reason to look at me twice.
Even without my customary uniform of glitter and bright colors, I’m not hiding my face.
If someone recognizes me… Well, it’s best they don’t.
The moment we enter the first building, I peel off and take a roundabout path through factory after factory, toward the other side of the property.
Circe and I both worked for the last Demeter, though we didn’t hold positions in these buildings.
I’ve come here a time or seven over the years since taking over Hermes.
The last Demeter wasn’t quite as ambitious as this one. He’s one of the few members of the Thirteen who voluntarily stepped down, wanting to spend his twilight years surrounded by family instead of playing politics. He turned seventy-five last spring. I hope he’s found somewhere safe to hide.
This Demeter has made many changes in the years since she was voted into the title.
The factories have all been expanded, machinery switched out for newer, sleeker versions.
There are more people on the floor, too, and if they work steadily, it’s without hunched shoulders conveying fear and exhaustion.
She might be a monster, but she’s a fair one.
I know for a fact that she pays better than standard wages to all her workers, giving them regular raises to reflect the growing industry she prevails over.
On the other side of the property, I climb one of the water towers to get a good look around.
The house down the hill is easily larger than the one I kept in the countryside—and subsequently sold to Minos for his murder party—but with significantly less whimsy, if I do say so myself.
Brick, brick, and more brick. Perfectly trimmed hedges and plants, no doubt coordinated flowers in the spring and summer.
Demeter likes everything in its place.
There are also the expected guards, courtesy of Circe, positioned in a car parked in the drive. Not very subtle, but I suppose there’s no reason to be. Whether for protection or as a threat, they’re effective.
From my current height, I can see the back of the house as well.
The yard is a sprawling thing with many trees and plants.
I’m actually surprised to find Demeter hasn’t chosen a traditional lawn, instead creating a space that feels natural, a little imperfect.
The fence around it is tall and unwelcoming, which means that space is just for her and her family. Interesting.
I climb down and take a roundabout path to the back fence. It’s tall and imposing, but that’s the extent of its defenses. Within seconds, I’m in the yard and shielded from outside view. After quick consideration, I give myself a shake and walk normally toward the back door.
Demeter herself steps out before I can reach the stone patio, a shotgun held easily in her hands. It should look absurd against her floral wrap dress, but Demeter has always contained multitudes. She may have been born to money, but she’s a country girl at heart.
I make a show of looking around. “Where are the famed pigs I hear so much about?”
“Most people don’t meet them voluntarily.” She doesn’t match my easy tone, her hazel eyes hard. “What are you doing in my backyard, Hermes?”
“You’re a smart woman. You tell me.”
“Even now, you can’t stop yourself from playing games.” She shakes her head. “Well, I’m not interested in anything you have to say. Get off my property or I will show you my pigs.”