I do, but mostly in theory. I’ve very intentionally dodged the worst pitfalls the upper crust of Olympia has to offer. In theory, I possess a fraction of power since my mother is Demeter, but the truth is far more complicated. Even within the Thirteen, there are hierarchies. The legacy titles—Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon—stand apart. The status of the rest fluctuates depending on the year, the season, sometimes even the week. Seniority counts for something, as do the responsibilities of certain titles—Ares with Olympus’s personal army, for example. Add in alliances and feuds and petty grievances, and one wrong move can have half of Olympus turning on you.
We all watched it happen with Hercules. As a member of Zeus’s family, he should have been nearly untouchable, but he pushed too hard to reveal the seedy underbelly of the shining upper city’s politics. Every single one of them turned on him as a result. The official story is that he left Olympus of his own power, but since everyone’s afraid to even mention his name now, the message is crystal clear.
Cross the Thirteen and they will wipe you from existence.
I bite back a sigh. “Okay, let’s hear the message.”
Hermes straightens and clears her throat. When she speaks, a man’s voice emerges from her lips. “This mess isn’t going to blow over anytime soon. There’s only one way to keep our mothers from feuding. Meet me tonight at Erebus. Come alone.”
I know that voice. “Eros.” What is he thinking? The last thing we can do is risk being seen together. The paparazzi that fuel MuseWatch are too savvy to miss an opportunity like this, even if we meet somewhere neither of us normally frequent. Being caught in one chance encounter is one thing, but two? It will incite an inferno of gossip.
“Why wouldn’t he just call me if he wants to talk?”
Hermes raises her brows. “And risk you deciding to record the conversation and use it against him?”
She has a point, but still… “There’s nothing stopping me from doing that anyway.”
“Maybe he’ll pat you down—in a very sexy manner.” Hermes bounces on her toes. “You know, I have to ask. Were you banging in the bathroom at the party two weeks ago?”
“No.” My mind offers up the image of Eros with blood on his shirt, his low voice saying, It’s the blood of the last pretty girl who asked too many questions. He’s Aphrodite’s fixer. Has Aphrodite decided I’m a problem in need of fixing?
No, that doesn’t make sense. There are a thousand ways to bury someone in Olympus without ever having to physically harm their body or put yourself in direct contact with them. Even as Demeter’s daughter, I’m hardly untouchable, but if Eros wanted to fix me, he could do it. He certainly could do it without potentially implicating himself by meeting me in person.
I go through the motions of trying on the next dress. It’s just as bad as the first. Gods, I hate it when designers are lazy. Focusing on that small irritation clears my head enough that by the time I turn to face Hermes again, I’m no longer in danger of losing control. “I assume he needs no reply.”
“Nope. Your reply is showing up tonight—or not, as the case may be.”
I have to show up. I don’t have a choice. He’s right about us needing to talk about the picture and a plan going forward. If Aphrodite is as furious about it as my mother is, it makes sense to ensure the gossip sites have something else to focus on so that they forget all about us and our so-called forbidden romance.
Still… We can’t afford a second picture of us. The location Eros gave is in the upper warehouse district, a neighborhood most of the Thirteen avoid, which means most of the paparazzi avoid it as well. We should be okay, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to take that for granted.
I consider Hermes. Using her services is a risk. She’s loyal to no one but herself—and maybe Dionysus—and that means I can’t take the secrecy of any message for granted. There’s nothing stopping her from standing on some karaoke stage and singing out the dirty laundry of all the people in the room, which is something I heard she did about a year after she took over as Hermes. No one took her seriously up to that point, but that event ensured everyone saw her for the threat she is.
Actually, that gives me an idea…
“Hermes, would you be willing to engage in a little friendly deception? In your professional capacity, of course.”
Her smile is crafty. “You know, you Dimitriou women keep surprising me. I’m willing to do this friendly deception for free since you’re entertaining me.”
I don’t know if that’s better or worse, but I’m not one to look the gift horse in the mouth. “Go out tonight.”
“I was already planning on it. Dionysus has some excellent new products that I’m dying to try.”
I ignore the interruption. “Go out tonight and post something about it. Tag your location. Make people believe I’m with you. Then give them a merry chase.” There’s no better alibi than one of the Thirteen. Who’s going to call Hermes a liar? No one. At least not to her face. If the paparazzi are busy chasing Hermes, thinking I’m with her, they won’t be sniffing around the upper warehouse district. Eros and I will be able to talk in peace.
“Consider it done.” She shakes her head. “Olympus is never dull with you and your sisters around.”
“I could do with a little less excitement.” I don’t mean to say it, but once the words are out, there’s no taking them back.
Hermes heads for the changing room door. “Chin up, Psyche. You’re a savvy girl. I’m sure you’ll come out on top.” She opens the door and twists to look at me. “Maybe you’ll even end up coming on top of Eros. For real this time.” She’s gone before I can form a reply, her laugh trailing behind her.
It’s just as well. What am I supposed to say to that? Eros might be as gorgeous as a god, but that man is a monster right down to his core. He’s my enemy.
I’m tempted to call Persephone and get her opinion on this whole situation, but if I loop her in, she’ll be barging through my door and threatening Eros before I finish the call. Better to call her in the morning and update her once I hear what he has to say. Maybe we’ll even come up with a solution that will make everyone happy.
The fluttering feeling in my stomach is nerves, of course.
I’m certainly not looking forward to seeing Eros again.
5
Eros
I arrive at the meeting spot over an hour early to scope out the place. Erebus is a little hole-in-the-wall pub on the edge of the upper city warehouse district. We might still be on the north side of the River Styx, but this area is a different world from the carefully curated central city where most of the Thirteen live. Proximity to Zeus’s place of business, Dodona Tower, is seen as a point of status, and every street in the surrounding blocks is a cold and clean combination of concrete, steel, and glass. Uniform and attractive enough if you’re into that sort of thing.
The area around the upper city warehouse district is where people go for a little illicit fun when they don’t have the strength or the balls to cross the river to the lower city. Here is where Dionysus rules, and there’s plenty of vice to go around. People also tend to look the other way and mind their own business when they’re in the area, which suits my purposes.
I have to play this carefully. This bar is small, but it’s been built into the space between two buildings so it has lots of nooks and crannies filled with shadowy tables. I have one staked out near the back, and I’ve tipped the bartender well to look the other way during what comes next.
No matter what this task entails or what my mother wants, I have no desire to make Psyche actually suffer. I’m sure Aphrodite would like me to drag her into an alley and get to work with a dull knife, but all Psyche will feel is a sleepiness and then nothing at all.
It’s the bare minimum she deserves.
I sit back and rub my hand over my chest. Now is not the time for doubts or guilt or any of that bullshit. I’ve done worse to nicer people, all because they got in my mother’s way or she decided they were threatening her position. The public might think murder is the greater evil, but they haven’t seen a young up-and-coming person have everything stripped away. Their beauty, their status, the respect of their peers. It’s so fucking easy to dismantle someone’s life if you have the right information, the right resources.