Staked (The Iron Druid Chronicles, #8)(31)
“Understood.” He nodded once and then asked, “What news regarding this Ragnarok business?”
“We are still in the opening moves of the chess match. I’m leaving tomorrow to try to secure a new ally—the dark elves of Svartálfheim. It’s why I wished to do this now—I’m not sure when or even if I’ll be back.”
The earth parted between us and Diana emerged, severally. I stepped back behind her head—or, I suppose, at the top of her head, where she couldn’t see me. She had an excellent view of Jupiter, though, which must have been very intimidating.
“Welcome back to the light, Diana,” he said. “I hope it will be permanent. The Druids are offering concessions and I hope you will consider carefully, because it specifically addresses the injury you claim to be fighting for.”
Diana’s confident voice contained a bite of scorn. She had not been cowed by nearly two months of solitary confinement in the darkness. Mortals would have broken in mere days, but not an Olympian. “Go on, then,” she said.
“They will protect the dryads and their groves and make sure that they flourish with the strength of Gaia. And they sincerely regret inspiring your anger. All that they ask is that you allow them to live and do not conspire against them.”
The goddess of the hunt did not answer, and Jupiter eventually had to prompt her, eyes flashing.
“Well? What say you? You go free and the dryads will be better off.”
“I … accept.”
The thunder god’s expression softened and the lightning in his eyes faded. “This pleases me. Swear to me that you will abide by the conditions of your release. You will no longer hunt the Druids and will not seek to bring them harm by any other means.”
“I swear all this in your name.”
“Good.” His eyes flicked up in my direction and I asked Albion to set Diana free. The chalky soil native to the area crumbled away, allowing Jupiter to reattach Diana’s limbs and head to her torso. From there the divine healing abilities of the Olympian immortals took over, and in minutes she was whole again. Jupiter helped her up, she brushed some dirt and dust off her arms and clothes, and then turned to see me standing there with Oberon.
She clenched her jaw and then her fists, and I immediately regretted not casting camouflage, as the mere sight of me was a clear provocation to her. Such a provocation that a cry of rage ripped loose from her throat, and she charged me barehanded. I drew Fragarach, which set off spasms of pain all down my back, tried to set myself on a gammy leg, and warned Oberon to stay out of the way.
“Diana!” Jupiter shouted. “You swore!”
She kept coming. I readied a low swing at her midsection, something she couldn’t duck. And then Diana exploded into golden ichor and organ chunks, and Oberon and I both got covered in her viscera and cut up with little pieces of bone shrapnel. A crack of thunder accompanied the explosion and explained what happened: Jupiter had obliterated her with a thunderbolt rather than see her break her word.
<Ow! Auughh! Dang it, I just had a bath!>
Oberon, do not lick any of that off! Ichor is poison to us. Let it sit and we’ll wash you as soon as we can.
Jupiter growled a few choice curses in Latin and then apologized in English. “Sorry about that. I thought she would keep to her word.”
“Blech. I thought so too.”
“I’ll deal with her on Olympus,” he said, for she would re-spawn there after a while. The Olympians had a pretty sweet immortality deal compared to most other pantheons: They really couldn’t die. Get rid of their bodies and they’d come back in new ones. Most other pantheons just got a long life in one body, and after they shuffled off their original mortal coil they could manifest every so often for short periods of time, like the Morrigan did, depending on the power they derived from their believers.
“How exactly will you do that, if I may ask?” I said, wiping golden gunk off my face. “She obviously can’t be trusted. Her word means nothing.”
“No, but she can be watched and dealt with, as you just saw.”
“And if you’re too late? If she slips past your guard? If she employs someone else to assassinate me?”
“You will be safe,” he assured me. “It’s a matter of personal honor now. She’s given me insult.”
“I’ll leave it in your hands, then,” I said, for there was very little else I could do. Though I didn’t give voice to them, I already had serious doubts that I would ever be safe from Diana. Whether by design or accident, I’d been outmaneuvered. Jupiter had turned all my leverage to goo. Diana or one of her proxies could strike at any time in the future and then Jupiter’s assurances would be meaningless, because I’d be dead. And what would he do if someone were to confront him, anyway? Shrug his shoulders and say, “My bad”? As Manannan Mac Lir had already discovered, while “working” with Poseidon and Neptune to search for J?rmungandr in the ocean—an entirely fruitless endeavor so far—the Olympians were unreliable allies at best.
“Farewell, Druid,” Jupiter said.
I chucked my chin at him and braced myself for his exit—it came a split second later in a thunderbolt that made my hair stand on end and burned the air, leaving us alone in the English countryside.
Oberon’s charged fur stuck out all over and he shook himself, which got rid of some of Diana’s gore but did nothing to improve his appearance. <I would be okay with never meeting that guy again,> he said.