A Touch of Chaos (29 page)

What did Theseus have planned that had given him such confidence?

The door to Ariadne's room opened, and she stepped out, freshly showered and dressed. When she saw them, she halted, hesitating.

“What's going on?”

He started to speak when there was a knock at his door, and Ariadne stood just feet away from it. She met Dionysus's gaze.

He spoke quietly and quickly.

“Downstairs, there is a cellar with wine stored in rounded alcoves. Once you enter, count until you reach the seventh. Touch the plaque on the wall. It will reveal the entrance to a tunnel. Get inside, close the fucking door, and don't look back. It will take you all the way to Bakkheia. Got it?”

She nodded, and then the doorbell rang, and his heart froze in his chest as the baby began to cry.

Fuck.

“Go,” he ordered.

Phaedra picked up the child and started toward the stairs, but Ariadne hesitated. Dionysus summoned his thyrsus.

“I said go!”

He didn't like the way she was looking at him, like it was the last time they might see each other, but she
went, disappearing down the hallway just as he felt the ground tremble, and he realized too late that his attention should not have been on the door but the windows.

They exploded with a power that knocked Dionysus to the ground. He was immediately aware of how badly he hurt, and he knew his body was riddled with glass and pieces of debris.

He groaned as he got to his feet, wincing as he put pressure on his left arm, which was impaled with a large splinter of wood.

Double fuck.

Dionysus tried to pull the fragment free, but before he could, he felt a new pain—a sharp stab to his back. He screamed and then whirled to face his attacker, lifting his weapon, only to discover no one was there.

They must have teleported, he thought, except that if that were the case, he would have sensed it. The pain from the wound on his back pulsed throughout his entire body. He was not used to feeling this kind of aftershock. He typically healed without thought, except right now, he didn't seem to be healing even
with
thought.

Dionysus breathed heavily through the pain, his teeth clenched, glaring at the burning and smoky remains of his living room. He tightened the hold on his thyrsus, and then he felt it—a subtle change in the air—and he raised his thyrsus to block the attack, surprised when he felt the impact of a blade against it.

His eyes widened as he realized his opponent was invisible.

A second blow came, and he felt the blade sink into his stomach and then a little farther before his attacker
shoved him down. Years of healing had prevented him from ever feeling this kind of pain.

He felt so hot and could barely breathe as he watched a man appear before him, having removed Hades's Helm of Darkness. He was a demigod, young with curly hair. If Dionysus had to guess, he would say a son of Zeus.

Dionysus could not speak, and the man smirked.

“I thought you should know the face of the man who took your life.”

Dionysus took two great breaths, hoping he might clear his mind enough to summon his magic, but then the demigod stiffened as something struck the side of his head. He crumpled to reveal Ariadne. She was holding a bronze statue, which she slammed down on the man's head again before leaving it and coming to his side.

“You have to get up,” she said, her eyes gleaming with just as much determination as the command in her voice.

He nodded and gritted his teeth hard as he sat up and got shakily to his feet. Ariadne anchored one of her arms around his waist. They staggered down the hall and stairs, into the basement, where he collapsed despite Ariadne's attempts to keep him on his feet.

She fell with him but quickly got up and began pulling on his arm. “You have to get up! Dionysus! Get up!”

“Ari,” he said, his voice barely audible.

Her eyes began to water.

“I can get help! Just tell me what to do!”

But they were interrupted by pounding on the steps, and when Dionysus turned his head, he saw that the demigod had risen, his face covered in blood but healed. Instead of running, Ariadne turned fully toward him,
intent on fighting, but despite her capabilities, there was no way she could win.

That thought brought with it a sense of hysteria, a stirring in the pit of his stomach that rang of madness. He latched on to that, fueled it as his magic roared to life, and with it, he reached for Ariadne and Phaedra and the baby and teleported. In the process, everything went dark.

Persephone woke with a start.

She did not know what had roused her, but a deep sense of unease clung to her. She pushed up from where she lay against Hades, a hand on his chest, eyes scanning the room, but nothing was there. Still, the feeling did not ebb. She sat up farther, and she was followed by Hades, his face etched with concern.

“What is that?” she asked.

She could not really describe the feeling except to say that it felt like the air within their realm had become a physical weight, composed of nothing but sorrow. As they breathed, it filled their lungs.

“It's Thanatos,” Hades said. He threw off the blankets and left the bed.

Persephone followed, pulling on her robe, when she noticed Hades hesitate. She knew exactly what he wanted to say—
stay here
. His eyes were already pleading with her, but the words never left his mouth. Instead, he
called on his magic, clothing himself in dark robes, and held his hand out.

The frustration that had been building inside her turned into a dizzying warmth. She had been ready to argue, had already thought of the things she would say to explain why she was coming with him, but suddenly, she did not need any of those words, and it felt like maybe he was finally starting to understand that there was a time and place for his protectiveness.

Besides, there was nothing he could say that would keep her in this room—not after what she had already faced within their realm.

They teleported and found Thanatos on the bank of the River Styx. He was sobbing and on his knees, clutching the hem of Hypnos's robes.

Charon was only a few steps away, his boat docked at the pier behind him. He was holding his oar like a staff. He stared at Thanatos and his brother, his expression almost blank, as if he could not quite comprehend the scene in front of him.

Persephone was not even sure what she was witnessing.

“Oh great,” said Hypnos as they arrived. “Now we have an audience. Don't you have any respect for the dead and those who mourn them?”

The dead?

“This cannot be,” said Thanatos.

“Do not mourn for me, Brother,” Hypnos said. “This changes very little for me. I was already a prisoner of this hellhole. Now I am just a dead one.”

Hypnos helped Thanatos to his feet.

It was almost disconcerting to see Thanatos so
aggrieved, but she could not blame him. The last thing the God of Death had ever expected was that he would one day welcome his own immortal brother to his realm as a soul in the afterlife.

“I could scarce believe it myself when he arrived at my dock,” said Charon.

“What happened?” asked Persephone.

“I died,” Hypnos responded. His voice dripped with sarcasm. Clearly he hadn't lost his sense of humor—or lack thereof.

“Why don't you try answering that question again?” Hades suggested, his tone dark.

She could feel his frustration—he was not in the mood for games. Hypnos might be able to make light of his death, but the rest of them couldn't, not when so many had come before him and had the potential to follow.

Hypnos's mouth tightened.

“You want to know what happened? Theseus happened,” he said. “He brought me before Hera, who threatened to kill my wife if I did not provide her with a sleeping potion for Zeus. So I did.”

It would not be the first time Hera had required the use of Hypnos's powers to lull Zeus into slumber. She'd done it twice before with the intention of overthrowing her husband.

But Persephone was surprised at the extent to which the leader of Triad had aligned himself with the Queen of the Gods. Though he had once claimed an alliance with Hera, Persephone was skeptical of the depth of the connection.

“Theseus brought you before Hera?” Persephone
asked. What was the possible benefit of the demigod working with Hera?

“That is what I said.”

Persephone's gaze shifted to Hades. “Did you know about the extent of this alliance?” Hades opened his mouth, but Persephone already knew the answer before he spoke. She looked away quickly, returning her attention to Hypnos. “You said Hera wanted a sleeping potion for Zeus. Is he…”

“He's sufficiently comatose.”

Strangely, Persephone had no feelings one way or the other about Zeus. He deserved to be deposed and so much worse, but the end of his rule would be useless if someone even more terrible took his place.

“But they killed you and not him. Why?”

“For the same reason Theseus kept me alive,” said Hades. “He still hopes to convince Cronos to join his side—at least until he has conquered the world.”

“Does Theseus really believe he can take on a Titan?” Persephone asked.

“Theseus believes he is undefeatable,” said Hades.

Persephone wanted to ask why. Was it just his arrogance or something else? But then Hypnos spoke.

“I imagine he feels pretty invincible at the moment given that he is now in possession of the lightning bolt.”

“What?” Persephone asked, shocked by his words. Beside her, Hades went rigid.

Hypnos looked annoyed. “
I said…
”

“I know what you said,” Persephone snapped, but she did not wish to believe it. Theseus was now in possession of the Helm of Darkness and Zeus's lightning bolt, and he likely had access to Poseidon's trident, being that
he was his son. Those were the three weapons that had aided the Olympians in overthrowing the Titans.

“Did he say anything else?” Hades asked.

“Nothing of his plans,” said Hypnos.

Persephone looked at Hades, who returned her stare. She wanted to say something, but everything seemed obvious. They had to stop Theseus. They had to make a plan. They had to do it quickly.

“Thank you, Hypnos,” said Hades. “I am sorry it had to end this way.”

Persephone expected the god to give some kind of biting reply, but he didn't. Instead, he asked another question as he looked from Hades to Thanatos.

“Who will tell my wife?”

It was then Persephone understood what Hypnos truly mourned about his death.

“I think it would be best if she heard it from your brother,” said Hades.

Thanatos did not disagree.

They left the Styx and returned to the palace, no longer suffocating beneath the weight of Thanatos's shock and sadness.

“We have to do something,” Persephone said when they appeared in their room.

Hades did not speak and turned away, which only made her more frustrated.

“We cannot just keep letting Theseus get away with these murders,” she said.

Hades halted and faced her. “Is that what you think I have been doing?
Letting
him get away?”

That was not what she meant to insinuate, but she was still working through the frustration she'd felt since
she discovered everything he had kept from her, and it appeared those secrets were still coming out.

“Apparently I know nothing about what you've been doing,” she said. “Hera and Theseus are close allies?”

He looked away, glaring at the wall, but after a moment, he took a breath, and she felt the anger in the air between them lessen.

“Around the time you lost Lexa, Hera asked me to help her overthrow Zeus,” he said. “When I refused, she found someone else to help her execute her plan. She chose Theseus because she believed he was capable, but she also thought he would be easy to dispose of. I think she learned otherwise today.”

And now it was too late. He was dangerously armed, both with the weapons of the most powerful Olympians but also weapons that could kill gods.

“There is much more to that story,” he said. “But given what we have learned, I think we should summon our allies.”

As curious as she was, she agreed. Silence fell between them for a moment. She didn't like the feel of it, like something angry still lingered between them, so she spoke, needing to be sure he knew how she felt.

“I…did not mean to suggest you haven't tried to stop Theseus,” she said. “And I know there are still things you are working on telling me. I think I am just afraid of what I don't know.”

Hades moved closer and took her face between his hands. “I am no less afraid even with all I know,” he said. “But I can promise you that I will never leave you in the dark again.”

She tipped her head back farther, holding his burning
gaze. The corners of her lips lifted just a little as she brushed a strand of his hair away from his face.

“I want your darkness,” she said. “But I want your secrets too.”

“Darling,” he said. “Give me time, and I will give you everything.”

“I just want to know that we have time.” She spoke quietly, unable to keep the fear from entering her voice. “I want to know that we have forever.”

Hades studied her, slipping one hand around her waist. He kept the other on her face, his thumb caressing her cheek.

“Then perhaps we should dream about it,” he said. “So that we can think about it when we are on the battlefield.”

She raised a brow. “Did you not say that I am to think about the pleasure of being beneath you?”

“Well,” he said with a small smile. “That is one part of our forever I look forward to.”

He leaned close, his lips brushing hers, but instead of deepening the kiss, she felt him freeze, and she knew something was wrong. Instantly, her heart started to beat faster. Then a scream tore through the quiet.

“Somebody help! Please!”

“Is that…Ariadne?” Persephone asked. She exchanged a look with Hades before they both raced from their chamber, following her desperate screams until they found her in the foyer, bent over Dionysus's bloodied body. Another woman—Phaedra, Persephone realized—stood nearby, holding her screaming baby and looking terrified.

“Help him, help him, please,” Ariadne sobbed as
they approached. She was also covered in blood, but it was hard to tell if it was hers or Dionysus's.

“Fucking Fates,” Hades muttered.

“He's not healing,” Persephone whispered.

She was about to hurry down the hall to the queen's suite for the fleece when Hades spoke.

“Hecate, the fleece!”

The goddess appeared. When she saw Dionysus, her eyes widened, and she moved to place the golden wool over him. There was no silence as they waited for the god to heal between Ariadne's sniffling and the baby's frustrated cries, which only seemed to grow louder the longer Phaedra tried to comfort him.

Persephone drew nearer to Hades as they watched Dionysus. She wondered if there were limitations to the fleece. Was there a point when even it could not heal?

Dionysus's breaths deepened, and then his eyes fluttered and opened. For a brief moment, he seemed confused, but that was quickly eased when his gaze found Ariadne's. He whispered her name and pressed his palm to her cheek. The detective smiled, though her mouth still quivered, and she covered his hand with her own.

“I'm so sorry,” Phaedra said, still unable to calm her newborn, whose cries seemed to move an octave higher.

“Do not apologize,” Persephone said. “He cannot help it, and you are doing your best, especially given these…harrowing circumstances.”

She could not be sure exactly what they had witnessed, but seeing Dionysus in this state was enough, especially since Phaedra had just given birth.

“Come,” said Hecate, nearing. “I will show you to the library so that you may ease your little one.”

“I will come with you,” Ariadne said, rising to her feet, letting Dionysus's hand slip from hers.

“I think it is best you stay,” said Hecate. She looked past her to Hades and Persephone. “Lord Hades and Lady Persephone have questions, and I think it is likely you are the only one who can answer them.”

Persephone noted Ariadne's curled fists, though she did not think it was frustration. The detective likely felt anxiety without eyes on her sister. Persephone knew that feeling because it lived in her heart every day. It was the fear that one day, she would wake up in a new world, one where Hades no longer lived, just like the day she arose without Lexa.

“Anyone want to explain what happened?” Hades asked.

Dionysus sat up, his hand going to his head.

“Are you all right?” Persephone asked, frowning.

“Yes, just dizzy,” he said. “I…I have never felt anything like that.”

“You mean pain?” Hades asked.

“Exactly,” Dionysus said, rising to his feet. “I am usually able to heal, but whatever I was struck with…”

His voice trailed off, but they did not need any more of an explanation.

“Who attacked you?”

“I am certain it was one of Theseus's men,” said Dionysus. He was looking at the floor as he recalled what happened before he arrived in the Underworld. “I did not see him until it was too late. He had your helm, Hades.”