Kat was grateful that she had the time to try to sort herself out, though it had been pointless. She didn’t feel any closer to answers than she had the day before.
Her boots clunked on the steps as she wondered how she could get past it all. The first step was to stop thinking about him. But how could she? She had no idea how to shut that part of herself down, and wished there was a switch to flip to make the pain stop.
She stopped and leaned over the rail, her fingers wandering to the pearl around her neck. Dillon scared her, but more than just because of what had happened. She looked back on her life, acknowledging that she had never had a real relationship with a man other than her father. For the first time, she had something real in her grasp before it slipped through her fingers. The loss of that was acid on top of her physical fear of him, burning through her heart, tearing holes and rips in the tissue that she didn’t know could be repaired.
Kat pushed off the rail and began her walk across the bridge, taking in the view of Manhattan in front of her. Her eyes ran up the bridge cables, chasing the illusion of crisscrossing wires that ran up to the stone archways. New York beat Vegas, hands down, but she couldn’t stay. Not anymore.
She crossed the bridge, chasing her thoughts. She walked down the stairs and to the water taxi that would take her back across the East River, back to the life that she didn’t want anymore. On the ride across, she rested her arms of the boat rail and looked down into the water rushing by. She saw Dillon’s eyes, his crazy, blank eyes. She saw him looming over her in all his rage, all his pain, all his anger. Felt his weight on her body as he pinned her down, weak, unable to stop him. She saw the recognition in his face when he saw her, when he focused on her, saw him snap back into himself when she spoke to him, when she touched him. Could she stop him again?
Kat swallowed hard, pushing her hope back down as she looked to the city, memorizing it as she said goodbye.
———— Olympus ————
Dita stared into the fire in her library, her eyes unfocused, her hand clutching the vessel with the key to a three-thousand-year-old mystery held inside.
She was startled when she looked up to find Perry sitting in an orange armchair next to her, staring at the fire with the same look on her face.
“How long have you been here?”
“Oh, just a little while. I came to check on you but didn’t want to disturb you. So, I waited.”
Dita gave her a small smile.
“Are you planning on drinking that?”
“I want to. I have to.”
“What about Kat?”
“I know. I put her in danger if I drink this. I don’t know how I’ll react, and I don’t know if I can protect her if I lose it.”
“Are you going to wait until after the competition?”
Dita looked down at the vial again, glowing blue in the dark room. “How can I? I’ve waited so long to know. And now that I’m sure, really sure, how can I wait? How can I see him every day, pretend, play house, when the answer is in my hand? The answer that I know and don’t want? Without proof, I’ll never be able to stop. It’s the only thing that will kill his roots that are wrapped around me like a prison.” Her breath hitched, her vision blurry as her eyes welled with tears.
“But if Eric comes, he could kill them, Dita.”
Dita blinked, and the tears spilled out of her eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. “I can’t wait any longer, Perry. If I can’t take care of the girls myself, I have plenty of tokens to use. Will you help me?”
“Of course. I’ll figure everything out and get the other gods to help, if it comes to that.”
Dita looked down at the vessel again in silence.
“Do you want me here?”
Dita nodded.
“Okay, then.” Perry moved to sit next to Dita.
Dita’s hands shook as she lifted the bottle and pulled the small cork out. She tipped back her head back and drank the warm water.
Everything went dark.
The blackness that pressed down on her was tangible. She felt her way through the void, her hands in front of her, and then she saw a small, blue light far in front of her. She walked toward it, then ran, and it sped toward her, growing larger, wider, until it consumed her, and she slammed into the memories.
She watched it all unfold like a sick nightmare. She saw herself in the meadow in her wrath on the day that Adonis died, her hair flying, her eyes a hot, blue light, Apollo’s son clawing at his blind eyes. The light grew so bright that she couldn’t see, and she shielded her eyes.
When the light receded again, she was in Apollo’s chambers as he slammed his doors, cracking the marble walls, and heard his scream when he found out what she had done. The light flashed again, and she watched as Ares and Apollo clasped arms. She heard the words of their oath as they spoke them before the light flashed, and then she was in the meadow.
Her knees gave out when Ares, in the shape of a colossal black boar, ran for Adonis. His tusks ripped Adonis apart, and she screamed with her hands out, her fingers splayed helplessly as she tried to stop it, her powers useless.
She saw it all.
The light flashed again, and her eyes flew open as she gasped, her head kicking back as her back snapped into an arch.
“What happened?” Perry cried out and reached for her.
Dita collapsed into Perry’s lap, sobbing.
“Dita, what happened?” Her voice faltered.
“It was Ares,” she whispered, before she shattered.
“Oh, gods.” Perry stroked Dita’s hair as she wept, her shock burning into despair, then into denial.
“No. It was false. It was a trick.” She looked up at Perry, her eyes wide, her mouth slack. “It couldn’t have been. Persephone. Please, tell me there’s a way,” Dita begged, but she knew the answer even before Perry shook her head.
Dita’s hands were cold and numb as she fought for composure.
He killed Adonis.
He lied to her. He’d been lying to her for thousands of years. Everything she knew was a lie. Everything she felt was a betrayal.
She stood and stumbled to her closet, leaning on the wall while she punched in a series of numbers. Her breath was ragged as she hugged herself, shivering as the rooms spun around and came to rest on a room of blood red.
Perry reached for her. “Dita—”
Her head whipped around to meet Persephone’s eyes. “Don’t,” she whispered.
Dita stepped into Ares’ room, and her feet sank into the plush, scarlet carpet. The walls were a deep burgundy, the trim black. She passed under the crystal chandelier that hung in the center of the room, and the wind twisted around her with rose petals dancing in its currents.
Her lips peeled back as she picked up an ancient pot, painted with a scene of her and Ares making love, and she screamed from the black of her heart as she threw it across the room. The chandelier exploded, and crystal shrapnel shot through the room.
She shredded the scrolls, set the books on fire. She threw statues that burst against the wall, their white stone leaving chalky starbursts on the crimson walls.
Persephone stood in the doorway, her hands over her mouth as she watched, agonizing over her friend’s anguish, the tears rolling down her face the only protest as Dita destroyed everything that she could wrap her fingers around.
When nothing was left but shards and ashes, she stood in the center of the room, a wild thing, her eyes glowing blue, her chest heaving. She stalked to where Persephone stood.
“It is time that he paid.”
Dita blew past her and toward the elevator, and Perry stood, rooted to the spot. She didn’t know what Dita was going to do, but she knew she had to get help. She wasn’t waiting for the elevator. Persephone snapped her fingers and materialized in Zeus’ penthouse, and she ran toward him, hoping to the gods that they’d get there in time.
Dita’s hands trembled by her side, and when the elevator doors opened, she walked into
the common room.
Ares sat at the table and froze when he saw her. His expression changed from shock to comprehension as he took her in, and Dita didn’t wait a second longer.
Her hands flew out as wind spun around her, and when she twitched her fingers, Ares flew back. He slammed into the wall with a thud as his chair burst into pieces.
“You.” Dita’s voice was barely above a whisper. She moved toward him as he picked himself up off the ground and dusted his shirt off.
“What’s this, Dita?” He sounded blasé, trying to play her. Her teeth ground together, knowing how wrong he was to think he had leverage.
“I know the truth, Ares.” She flicked her fingers again, sending a pulse of energy at him that threw him against the wall again and held him there. She raised her hand, and he lifted off the ground.
“What truth? I don’t know wha—” Ares words choked off when her fingers flexed.
“You lied to me, Ares. Everything was a lie.” She flicked her hands, and he jerked, his hands clawing at his neck, his feet scrabbling against the wall for purchase. “You killed him.” Her voice was deadly calm.
Ares bared his teeth with his face bent in resolve, and he shot his hand out at her. She flew back, weightless, and crashed into a bookcase, dropping her to the ground gasping. Ares stood from where he had fallen and prowled toward her. She stood slowly, her breath heavy, and screamed as she charged him.
He reached out to grab her, but she rolled under his arm and came up on her knees, and when she stood, they circled each other.
“Don’t be crazy, Dita. Someone lied to you. Apollo killed him, not me. He’s said it a thousand times.”
“The only one who has lied to me is you.”
“How do you know that?” The veins and tendons on his neck bulged when he howled, “TELL ME.”
Her hair spun around her like a tornado. “Mnemosyne.” She snapped her fingers, and a couch flew across the room to slam into Ares. He fell sideways and landed on the ground with the couch on top of him. He lifted it off and tossed it across the room.
He stood, his chest heaving as his chin dropped. “Dita, don’t do this. You don’t want to do this.”
“Don’t I?” She swept her hands across the room, and the dining chairs flew feet first at Ares. He dodged, but one pierced his arm, and another grazed his head, taking him to the ground. He reached over and pulled the wood out of his bicep with a roar.
But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to see him hurt. She wanted her hands around his neck. She wanted to see his pain and know that she had caused it.
She flew at him where he lay, screeching with her teeth bared as she clawed at him. He grabbed her wrists and stood, and she twisted against him, trying to wrench her hands from his grip, the bones and tendons on fire as he squeezed them.
He leaned into her face and hissed through his teeth, “You should have chosen me.”
“Fuck you,” she screamed at him, and kicked him in the balls.
He hit the ground, enraged. “You bitch,” he coughed.
“FUCK YOU,” she howled as she kicked him in the teeth.
Ares head flew back and rebounded slowly, deliberately before he spit out blood, then stood and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes turned red, glowing as his skin turned a shade of deep crimson, his hair was black against it. He grew bigger, taller, filling more space in the room than he had just a moment before.
He stepped toward her, and she stepped back in terror. “He was a human, Dita. A mortal. How could he take MY place?” He stalked toward her, and her hand shot out again. The books flew from the shelves, and Ares laughed as they pelted him. “And even when he abandoned you, you still chose him. I do not accept that.” He didn’t stop coming at her, and she backed away until she was against the wall.
“Where will you go?” Ares was in full wrath, and for the first time, Dita was truly frightened of him. “You can’t hide from me, dove. You are mine, and I am yours. No one else.”
Her pride washed away her fear, filling her with courage. “You will never have me again, Ares.” She pulled back, and slapped him.
Ares turned to her with a sneer. He pressed his lips to hers, and she screamed, the force of his mouth on her own so great that she tasted the tang of blood in her mouth. He picked her up by the shoulders and slammed her against the wall, and starbursts flashed in her eyes.
“Dita, you can’t tell me no. You’ve never been able to tell me no. I won’t let you tell me no.” He kissed her again, and her hands scrabbled against his chest, scratching at his face, slapping him as she tried to push him away. He pounded her against the wall again, and her head hit the wall with a thump. Her vision began to fade, and from what felt like a long way away, she heard him say, “You’re mine, Dita. You’ll always be mine.”
Apollo gasped as he flew off his couch.
“Dita.”
Daphne’s eyes were wide. “What has happened?”
“Stay here.” He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was in the common room. He stood paralyzed when he saw Dita hanging limp against the wall, her feet dangling as Ares, huge and red, held her to the wall by the shoulders.
Perry appeared next to him and screamed as she ran for Dita. Apollo grabbed her. “Persephone, no.” Her wide eyes were locked on Dita, and when Zeus appeared, thunder boomed. Ares looked over his shoulder to find his father standing before him.
“Ares.” The word reverberated through the room, full of rage, and lightning crackled between Zeus’ fingertips when he extended his hand. “Release her.”
Ares lowered Dita, who fell to the ground in a heap as Ares stepped away. Apollo ran to her and pulled her limp body into his lap. Perry bent over her, whispering to her, and her long eyelashes fluttered when Perry moved her hair from her face.
“She is mine, Zeus.” Ares fists clenched, but his voice was dangerously calm.
Zeus laughed, the sound a bitter thunder in the room. “She is not yours. She has never been yours, Ares. It is time that you see that. Let her go. Because should you ever, ever touch her again, there will be consequences.”
Ares color faded, his glaring eyes returning to their electric blue. His broad chest heaved as he grew a shade smaller, but the fury rippled off of him.
Zeus stepped toward him, his hands still splayed, his fingertips pointed at Ares. “There is a place called Tartarus. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? You see, your grandfather is there, and all of the other betrayers who tried to stand against me.” Lightning jumped between his hands, and toward Ares, as if it wanted to taste him. Ares went pale, his eyes on his father’s hands as Zeus continued. “I will not hesitate, boy. You will not harm her. SAY IT.”
The lightning snapped and jumped, and Ares couldn’t take his eyes away. “I will not harm her.”
Zeus lowered his hands. “Leave.”
Ares turned and looked down at Dita lying unconscious on the ground, then at Zeus raging in front of him, before turning to the elevator. Zeus’ eyes didn’t break from Ares until the doors had closed behind him.
Zeus knelt down to them, his eyes scanning Dita. “Is she all right?”
Apollo looked her over again. “She’ll be fine. She just needs some rest.”
He nodded. “Take her to her chambers. Persephone, leave Cerberus with her, just in case.”
“Yes, Zeus,” Perry’s voice shuddered, her wide eyes shining as Apollo gathered Aphrodite in his arms, hoping Ares didn’t try anything else, not knowing how much more she could take.
Ares stormed into his apartment and paced, his nostrils flaring, hands shaking, needing to destroy something. His gaze fell on his couch, and he picked it up, roaring as he threw it against the wall. He picked up a vase and threw it across the room to crash into the wall, then kicked his head back and screamed, his fists balled, his thick neck and arms flaring as every muscle flexed. The sound of his fury shattered his wall of windows, the glass imploding into the room, shredding and slicing his skin. He clo
sed his eyes.
He lost her. She was gone. She would never forgive him.
Never.
He was too angry to feel the loss as rage pumped through him and blood pumped out of the small cuts that covered him. She would pay. Zeus would pay. Apollo would pay. He would deliver retribution to each one of them, one by one.
He opened his eyes, and everything was in sharp focus as adrenaline pumped through him, his heart banging in his ears. Every shard of glass on the ground sparkled, every fiber of the carpet around them shone.
If he couldn’t have Dita, no one could. Ares’ head shot up, and he looked out the window at the black night, at the twinkling stars.
Eric.
Fuck the competition, and fuck the players. He’d win while Dita was down. Those girls would die, and Dita’s punishment would begin. He itched for blood as he looked in on Eric, who sat drinking a beer on his couch in Las Vegas.
———— New York ————
An infomercial for spray-on hair yammered on, but Eric’s eyes were out of focus as Kiki occupied his thoughts, filled his senses.
And then, his phone rang.
He blinked, his eyes snapping back into focus when he looked down at it buzzing in his hand, dazed.
He answered, “Yeah?”
Darren’s voice was high, and his mouth went into overdrive. “Hey, man. Listen. I just ran into Louie—”
“I don’t give a fuck. What’s your point?”
“I’m getting there. Get this—he ran into Kat at a race.”
Eric leaned forward, his heart speeding up as a smile stretched across his face. He had them. She never should have raced if she didn’t want to be found.
It was all going to be over. Soon.
“Are you still there?” Darren asked.
“Tell me everything.”
Day 13
BRANCHES SLAPPED AND SWATTED AT Dita as she ran through the forests of Elysium. They slashed her palms shielding her face, shredding her arms to ribbons, reaching for her, grabbing her hair, tugging on her robes. She couldn’t go any further, her robes were too tangled, and terror flooded her as she looked behind her. She could hear him crashing through the brush, snorting and grunting, and her trembling hands tugged at the fabric, but she couldn’t get free. She watched in horror as the bundle of robes in her hands turned from white to blood red, the crimson climbing up her body.