4. Where The First Bullet Point Of The Plan Is Accomplished （And The Empress Finds it Satisfactory… And Hot…） #3
“Risk averse, huh? Well, I will give you that. However, I feel a touch heated tonight, if you know what I mean? A beautiful woman, a dance, will do that to you. You’ve probably forgotten, it has been a long time for you, after all—”
“I’ve forgotten nothing!” Zeus ground out.
Nemesis was undeterred.
“So I am in the mood for risk. All that dancing and touching and grinding got me into this particular mood. And since you are so certain I’m bad at this, how about putting that yacht of yours where your mouth just went?”
Zeus’s jaw dropped, his face hardened. He glared at Nemesis and lifted his gaze to Hera. For some reason, it held none of the harshness from before. Then he laughed.
“Revenge, you have no idea what you’re talking about! Are you sure you even have that kind of money?”
Nemesis’s answering grin was placid.
“How about I wager a favor?”
The room went instantly silent. A favor… Hera felt the lump in the back of her throat.
Gods and Goddesses traded favors all the time. But the Goddess of Vengeance’s favors were an entirely different entity. Nations disappeared off the map when Nemesis paid back the favors she owed.
A bear dropped to his knees. The other scrambled to pick him up. Erato fanned herself. Aphrodite watched Zeus with avid eyes.
“A favor?”
“A favor, old man.”
Another bear dropped. More scrambling could be heard behind them.
Hera’s chest tightened. Not only were Nemesis’s favors extreme, but she was bound by them to the point of death.
Her own, despite her immortality. If she lost, and Zeus wanted something absolutely out of this Earth insane, she’d have to do it.
She’d have to deliver. Hera felt her hands go numb.
“Revenge…” Hera began, laying a hand on Nemesis’s biceps. A look over the muscled shoulder and a gentle pat of her fingers was all she got, before the Goddess of Revenge shrugged her hand away.
“I’m sure she knows what she’s doing?” Erato’s loud whisper ended on an “Ooff!” as Demeter elbowed her in the ribs. Hera wanted to do the same. She felt her stomach muscles clench. She was worried. She was—
“Deal.” Zeus’ voice was sly, his eyes never leaving Nemesis.
More cards were dealt. Words were exchanged, something about the stakes, bids, useless things she didn’t give a damn about. Hera missed most of the chatter. She didn’t care to learn that Apollo dropped out and that Dite soon followed him.
Zeus and Nemesis pushed chips to the middle. Hera did not follow the amounts. She only cared for—
Zeus’s excited cry of “Got you!” before he slammed his cards face up. A straight flush lay on the table, the diamonds mocking Hera. The two bears who had fainted sprang to their feet to watch.
“A flush, a straight flush, he haaaaaas!” The choir sang. Hera clenched her fists.
Hermes gripped the deck so hard he broke a few cards.
Apollo fanned himself. Aphrodite sat in stunned silence.
Nemesis whistled. Low. Quiet.
“Well, well, well. Would you look at that? A straight one, huh. I mean, fits you to a T.”
Zeus’s laughter boomed.
“I’m glad you think so. I’m sure you won’t agree, but this was a good game, Revenge. And I have the exact task for you. For that famous favor. Too bad it might kill you—”
Nemesis lifted her hand, still holding her cards.
“What I don’t know won’t kill me, Zeus. So I’d rather not know what depraved favor you wanted to extract from me.”
One by one, Nemesis laid her cards on the table. Ten of spades. Jack of spades. Queen of spades. King of spades. Hera bit her lip. The ace was inevitable. Fingers, tipped with dark nail polish, laid it carelessly, almost flinging it at Zeus.
“I always did have an aversion to anything straight, old man. However, since there is no queer, a royal straight will have to do.”
Zeus’s jaw dropped. Apollo actually screamed a high-pitched sound of disbelief. Aphrodite laughed. The chorus sang a tune. It sounded suspiciously like “he had it coming!”
Hera watched in shock as Nemesis stood from the table, rolling down her white sleeves, lean muscles disappearing under silk. The crowd did not dare breathe. Not until—
“I assume the yacht is at its usual marina, Zeus?” He nodded mutely, still looking in complete stupor between Nemesis’s face and the cards on the table. She picked up the Queen of Spades, then looked back at him. When she spoke, her voice was devoid of all intonation.
“Tell the captain to set it on fire. And tell him to film it. I like to watch.”
The room erupted. One of Zeus’s bodyguards approached Nemesis, clearly too undisciplined and enraged on his boss’s behalf.
A clean, powerful left hook took care of him in a second.
Shouts and cheers and gasps rang from every corner.
Nemesis gracefully walked out, paying no attention to any of it.
She stopped in front of Hera, gently placing the Queen of spades in her hand.
A circled number 1 traced in red ink stood in sharp relief on the back of it.
Some of the color bled on Hera’s fingertips, the feeling warm and, for some reason, comforting. Somewhere behind them, Zeus whimpered.