Sin City Goddess (2 page)

The Lost, we called them. They were the shades that wandered the riverbanks, searching for a purpose, a plan, some guidance on what to do in the After. It was through no fault of their own that they had nothing to offer Charon. Cold reptile that he was, he simply didn’t care. Rules were rules. Coin was all he cared about.

But I had never been one to play by rules that served no purpose.

For what was law without justice?

I stretched my legs and released my wings to their full, six-foot span. I shook them once, limbering up, and drank in the night air. Patches of clouds drifted over the water, which sparkled like black diamonds. The gentle lapping of the current relaxed me, and I listened for a moment, meditating, absorbing the perfume of the blooming night jasmine. A few minutes later, I calmly tucked all the coins from my winnings into my feathers, making certain they were secure and prepared for flight. It was brisk, but I preferred the heat, so I would welcome the exercise.

I took a running start and leaped off the river bank, soaring high into the velvety-black sky, past cliffs made of ebony and marble, and up, up, up, until I was just beneath the moon, looking for the lost ones.

There were pockets of them along the hillside, in the dark fields, and at the water’s edge. I released the coins from my thick feathers as I flew above them, one by one. I could see that some shades were afraid at first, until they spotted
what had fallen from the sky. Some of them looked up and waved, while others collected the coins and passed them out to confused ones. The river was choppy this evening, and I could see the waves crashing into the jagged granite, sending up fresh sprays of seawater that coated my long hair.

After I had dispensed all of the coins, I landed on top of a gray cliff twinkling with fool’s gold. I flapped my wings, shook out my hair, adjusted my pants and top, and watched as Charon was approached by dozens of souls waiting to gain passage, coins in hand. He lifted his cloaked head and raised a gnarled fist at me, his face twisted into a rage.

“Tisiphone, you spiteful hellcat! I’ll get you for this!”

How very original, Charon
, I thought. I smiled and waved at him. “Nice to see you too, you overinflated rhinoceros scrotum.”

I watched for several minutes as the shades formed a polite line. Then I turned, expanded my wings, and lifted my head to bathe in the moonlight, my best source of energy. When I felt refreshed enough for the journey home, I turned to walk through the dark forest, a smile on my face. Before I could take a step, however, I bumped into Hermes, messenger of the gods.

“Tisiphone, I’m so happy to have found you.”

The small god fluttered his winged sandals and landed before me. He strained his neck to look up at me as he spoke. He was a twitchy little thing by nature, but he seemed unusually antsy tonight.

“What is it, Hermes?”

“Hades requests your presence immediately.”

Perfect. Charon had complained already, and now I was going to get a tongue-lashing. Honestly, gods could be so sensitive. I bent over at the waist and cracked my neck. Then I tucked my wings away and faced him again.

“Why?”

“I’m not supposed to say,” the messenger god stammered.

This piqued both my curiosity and my suspicions. Hermes was well known around Olympus for his practical jokes.

I narrowed my eyes. “Why not?”

Hermes looked around nervously. “It’s top secret.”

I bent down, stared Hermes right in the eye, and lit the fire in mine.

He tried to snap his eyes shut, but it was too late.

You see, my little ability, which I had mastered over the last millennia, could function as a simple parlor trick, as with Mr. Bill Hickok, but it also had the power to coax a god to tell the truth. It didn’t always work on one with more strength than I had, like Zeus, but on minor deities it worked quite sufficiently. I still hadn’t perfected the trick on humans yet, but I was working on it.

“He wants you to go back,” Hermes blurted out.

“Go back where?”

Hermes bent his head, shifted his eyes to the right.

“You know…
there
.”

I shot up to my full height of six feet.

Now it was my turn to be twitchy. I had vowed never to return. Not after what had happened last time. Not after what I had done.

It was too dangerous.
I
was too dangerous.

Chapter 2

I had come a long way since that time, but still. The thought of slipping back into what I had once been terrified me.

As a Fury, I was born with an innate sense of law and order. It was once my duty to police humans. To drive them to understand their crimes against humanity, decency, compassion, truth, and society as a whole. I was to coax them to repent, to show remorse. Humans being humans, you can imagine this was not always an easy task. I and my sisters pursued the cruel, the wicked, the conscienceless, sometimes mercilessly, until they had seen the errors of their ways.

Unfortunately, some souls were black as coal and could never be enlightened.

As a Fury, I was also born with a temper. So a stubborn mortal who refused to repent—or, worse, committed another offense on my watch—was my worst enemy. I’m afraid I didn’t always handle those cases well.

The forest floor was damp, and I could feel the heels of my boots sinking into the thick mud as I walked faster and faster, trying to think, trying not to recall my last assignment.

Trying to escape Hermes’s high-pitched, incessant chatter.

“Please don’t do this, Tisiphone.” He was fluttering next to me, attempting to keep up with my stride.

“Hermes, you gnat, go away. I need to think.”

The woods were growing darker, thicker. Every so often a set of glowing eyes popped out through the boughs of the trees.

“There’s nothing to think about. You must at least go and talk to Hades. He’s called a meeting with Zeus and Poseidon, so there’s no avoiding it. He’ll send someone else to find you eventually, and then I’ll be blamed for failing to complete a simple task. I hate it when they’re angry with me.”

He said that last part with the pathetic whine of a kitten who hadn’t been fed in a week.

I sighed. I didn’t want to see Hermes scolded. He had enough trouble trying to gain his father’s respect. Zeus was quite proud of most of his children, yet Hermes seemed to be an utter disappointment to the king of the gods. Granted, Hermes wasn’t gifted with wisdom like Athena, or the musical talent of Apollo, but he had his charms.

I stopped walking. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to talk,” I said, although I wished I had time to think of a thousand excuses that would prevent them from sending me. Perhaps I could break a wing. What good was a Fury with only one wing? She’d be half as powerful. Not very effective.

Hermes clapped his hands and tipped his hat. “Excellent.”

We made our way out of the woods in silence as I chewed my bottom lip, wondering what could be so urgent that they would take such a risk in sending me back after what I had done. After all, I could no longer be trusted—the Fates had made that abundantly clear. I had broken a high law, a moral law, and I could have put us all in danger.

Hermes said, “You still haven’t forgiven yourself, have you?”

I glanced at him sideways. His white tunic was bright against the backdrop of the Underworld landscape.

“Could you?”

He nodded. “Absolutely. If you ask me, you did your job properly.”

I clicked my tongue, disagreeing.

Avenger of murder was my official title. Human societies were not as civilized millennia ago. They were fragmented. Corrupt. Dysfunctional. Barbaric. And when a person sinned against another or against a populace, it was the duty of the gods to ensure that the person be punished when mortal law failed to do so. Sometimes the humans handled things well on their own. Sometimes not. My sisters covered lesser crimes—thievery, assault, societal violations, moral codes, falsehoods—while I had the big one. Murder.

As societies developed, laws became more enforceable, courts became more judicious, and we were needed less and less, until eventually the gods decided it was time to allow humans to police themselves except under the most heinous of circumstances.

Unfortunately, humans being humans, those circumstances did arise from time to time.

It was just such a circumstance that had led to my exile.

“You were found not guilty, Tisi,” Hermes said.

It was an arduous trial, and the Fates were furious with me, especially Atropos, since it was her mess to clean up. They wanted to bind me to the Underworld forever, and I couldn’t blame them. What I did disrupted the fabric of both worlds, but no punishment could be as severe as my own shame. My own withdrawal from my people. If it weren’t for Hades’s and my sisters’ constant encouragement, I doubt I would ever have left my cavern.

Hermes said, “Sometimes we are forced to choose between the lesser of two evils.”

We were approaching Hades’s palace. But instead of the excitement that usually flushed through me at the sheer majesty of the sleek stone walls encrusted with garnet and hematite, I was filled with dread.

What was this task? Where would I have to go this time? Europe? Asia? America? Africa? Lords, I hoped it wasn’t Alaska. Too damn cold.

But more importantly, whom would I be there to punish?

Because, gods help me, if it was another man who had shed the blood of children, I just might kill again.

I looked down at my hands, the murder weapons, and stepped forward.

Chapter 3

When we reached the stone steps of Hades’s palace, I looked up at the gaping mouth of the gargoyle that framed the gargantuan gray door and hesitated. What if they wanted me to hunt another serial killer? Would they listen to my protests? Would they accept the fact that I was not up to the challenge? Perhaps they would consider sending one of my sisters, Meg or Alex. Or perhaps they would be too stubborn or prideful to hear my concerns. Wouldn’t be the first time. The highest gods in our pantheon, while often fair, did not like to be questioned about their decisions—although, rumor had it, we were better off than the subjects of the Norse gods. Thor, I’d been told, could be a real hard-ass.

Hermes asked if I was ready. I took a deep breath and nodded before he swung open the heavy door. I stepped over the threshold, the messenger god floating behind me, both of us expecting to be greeted by Hades and his brothers in the parlor, but the palace was dark and quiet.

“Where do you suppose they are?” I asked, scanning the hall and the parlor. The rich-indigo walls were lit by firefly sconces, their fluttering wings zigzagging around the crystal glass. The sleek piano that anchored the receiving area beckoned for Apollo’s skilled fingers, while a silver sideboard overflowed with delicate pitchers of wine and glass bowls filled with fresh plums, blackberries, and grapes.

Hermes said, “Perhaps they’re in the war room.”

The war room was where the gods met to discuss policy, strategy, and laws. It’d been updated in recent years, thanks to Athena’s inventive mind. The walls were now covered with large screens that transmitted information to the gods about the goings-on of all of Olympus, as well as areas of the human plane. I had no idea how it worked, nor did I care to learn. Technology did not interest me. All those lights, bells, buzzes, and talking machines made my head want to explode. I preferred the dark, the calm, the quiet.

“I’m sure you’re right.”

I turned left toward the hall that led to the war room but stopped dead in my tracks when I heard a deep, menacing growl.

Uh-oh.

I couldn’t see him, but I heard him coming. I was about to release my wings, when he came hurtling at me full speed. I put my hands out in a feeble attempt to slow him down. “Cerberus, no! Easy, boy!”

Too late. He crashed into me, all three heads and 250 pounds of him. He was a massive beast, taller than I when he stood on his hind legs. He knocked the wind from my lungs for a second. As I struggled to free myself from beneath the muscular frame of Hades’s hound, I was glad I hadn’t opened my wings, or surely he would have broken one. On second thought, perhaps I should have. It would have been a graceful way to decline the mission and still maintain my reputation. Dammit. Why couldn’t I think more like a deviant?