Neon Gods (Dark Olympus #1)(15)
It seems that I was wrong about a lot of things.
To give myself something else to think about, I look around the room. It’s just as opulent as the parts of the house I’ve seen so far, the bed large and with a dark-blue canopy that would do any princess proud. The hardwood floors that Hades is so fond of are covered with a thick carpet and there’s yet more crown molding everywhere. It’s as atmospheric as the rest of the house, but it doesn’t really give me many clues about the man who owns this place. It’s obviously a spare bedroom, and as a result, it’s doubtful it’ll tell me anything about Hades.
My body chooses that moment to remind me that I walked for hours in the cold in those godforsaken heels and then ran over gravel and glass barefoot. My legs ache. My back hurts. My feet… Best not to think too hard about them. I am so incredibly exhausted, enough that I might actually sleep tonight.
I look around the room again. Hades might not be as bad as Zeus, but I can’t take any chances. I climb gingerly to my feet and limp to the door. There’s no lock, which has me cursing softly. I limp to the bathroom and nearly whimper with relief when I find that this door does have a lock.
My muscles seem to turn from flesh to stone with each second that passes, weighing me down as I drag the massive comforter off the bed and into the bathroom. The tub is more than large enough to sleep in, uncomfortable or no. After a quick internal debate, I go back to the bedroom door and drag the side table in front of it. At least I’ll hear someone coming this way. Satisfied I’ve done all I can, I lock the bathroom door and practically collapse into the tub.
In the morning, I’ll have a plan. I’ll figure out a way forward and this won’t seem like the end of the world.
I just need a plan…
Chapter 5
Hades
After a few hours of restless sleep, I head down to the kitchen in search of coffee only to find Hermes perched on my kitchen island, eating ice cream out of the carton. I stop short, faintly alarmed by the fact that she’s dressed in a pair of cutoff shorts and an oversize T-shirt that she was most definitely not wearing last night. “You keep clothes at my house.”
“Duh. No one wants to wear the aftermath of their drunken adventures home.” She motions behind her without looking. “I put on coffee.”
Thank the gods for small favors. “Coffee and ice cream is one way to deal with a hangover.”
“Shhh.” She makes a face. “My head hurts.”
“Imagine that,” I murmur and walk around to grab us both mugs. I pour hers two-thirds of the way full and pass it over. She promptly drops a giant dollop of ice cream into the coffee, and I shake my head. “You know, I seem to remember locking up last night. And yet here you are.”
“Here I am.” She gives me a slightly rumpled version of her usual wicked grin. “Come now, Hades. You know that there isn’t a lock in this city that can keep me out.”
“I’ve become aware of it over the years.” The first time she showed up was a mere month after she earned the title of Hermes, some five or six years ago now. She startled me in my office and almost ended up with a bullet in her head as a result. Somehow, that interaction translated into her deciding that we’re great friends. It took me a year to figure out that it didn’t matter what I thought of the so-called friendship. Then Dionysus started appearing with her about six months after that, and I gave up fighting their presence.
If they’re spies for Zeus, they’re completely ineffectual and aren’t gaining any information I don’t want him to have. If they aren’t…
Well, it’s not my problem.
She takes a long drink of her ice-cream-dosed coffee and makes a disturbingly sex-like sound. “Are you sure you don’t want some?”
“I’m sure.” I lean against the counter and try to decide how to play this. I can’t really trust Hermes. No matter that she seems to consider us friends, she is one of the Thirteen and I’d be a fool ten times over to forget that. More, she makes her home in the shadow of Dodona Tower and answers directly to Zeus—at least when it suits her. Showing my hand before I have a concrete plan is a recipe for disaster.
But the cat’s out of the bag in every way that matters. Zeus’s men will have reported Persephone’s location to him already. Hermes confirming it changes nothing.
Dionysus stumbles through the door. His mustache is a mess and his pale skin is nearly green. He waves vaguely in my direction and makes a beeline for the coffee. “Morning.”
Hermes snorts. “You look like death.”
“You’re to blame. Who drinks wine after whiskey? Villains, that’s who.” He contemplates the coffeepot for a long moment and finally pours himself a mug. “Just shoot me in the head and put me out of my misery.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I mutter.
“Yes, yes, you’re very broody and terrifying.” Hermes spins on the island to face me. Her dark eyes light up with mischief. “All these years I thought it was an act, but then you stalk in, carrying your kidnapping victim.”
I start to clarify that I didn’t actually kidnap anyone, but Dionysus barks out a laugh. “So I didn’t hallucinate that. Persephone Dimitriou always seemed a bit of a sunny bore, but she just got interesting. She stepped out of that party less than thirty minutes after Zeus announced their engagement, and then she turns up on the other side of the River Styx, where good upper-city girls most definitely don’t go? Very, very interesting.”