God of Thieves Page 8

  At last he cleared his throat. “Very well,” he said slowly. “We accept your bargain and your conditions, but we have one of our own—if your advice does not live up to your promise, you will be immediately banned from the council and stripped of your role as an Olympian and all it entails. Do you understand?”

  I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. Not as if I’d expected anything less from them anyway. “I understand, and I agree. As long as nothing happens to Iris.”

  “Very well, Iris is cleared of all wrongdoing,” said Zeus. “Now, tell us what you’ve learned.”

  This was the hard part. I stood in front of my throne, not yet daring to sit, and I focused on each and every face. No matter how they felt about me, I loved them, and I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to one of them. Even if they’d denied me, I would’ve told them.

  “You’re going to object,” I said. “It’s different, and you’re all going to resist. But before you dismiss it, give it a try, and remember the Fates themselves sent me to her.” I hesitated. “We need to change who we are.”

  A confused murmur echoed through the room, and Zeus raised a hand. Everyone fell silent. “Explain, Hermes.”

  I launched into Tuck’s story—everything she’d gone through and why she’d done it. How she’d adapted. What her real name was, how her self-chosen nickname had been a way for her to recreate herself and become the person she needed to be. How she’d changed who she was and what she’d believed and how she’d acted, all for the sake of her new life. And how much that new life had meant to her.

  “So you’re saying we need to change our names?” said Aphrodite, clutching Ares’s hand. I nodded.

  “But it’s not just that. It’s changing who we are to the world. We depend on mortals, and they depend on us, but they don’t realize that. Most of them are completely unaware. People used to know who we were and what we were doing, and they believed in us. They think we’re myths now though—stories to tell around a fire, not real people. And we need that belief.”

  “Then how do you propose we do that?” said Poseidon.

  “We need to become more than what we are. More than gods and goddesses. More than Olympians. Yet at the same time, we need to become one of them, as well. Live among them, understand them, help them. Stop needing recognition. We need to integrate ourselves and stop being these great deities who are so far above humanity. Yes, we’re immortal, but we feel the same emotions they do. We’re happy, sad, angry, excited—we need to do away with that divide. We need to bleed blood instead of ichor. We need to adapt.”

  “I do not understand,” said Hades quietly. “How would living among them benefit me?”

  “It wouldn’t, not you,” I said. “Your subjects will always be there. They know who you are, at least to an extent. But ours—they believe in other gods now, or only one of us at a time, or whatever the case may be. We need to become those gods. To become these ideas in their minds.” I shook my head. “I know it sounds crazy, but the core of the problem is that they don’t know who we are. And short of exposing ourselves and ruling like kings, we can’t change that. But we can live like—like Rhea.”

  At last a few faces seemed to light up with understanding.

  “She lives among the people. I don’t mean we have to abandon Olympus. We just need to join together with the mortal world and understand it. As long as there are mortals, there will always be love and music and travel, and in order to stay tied to those things as we are now, we must go down to earth and represent them. Everyone we meet will know who we are, even if they don’t know our names, and we’ll ingrain ourselves among them. Bottom line—we cannot hold ourselves above them anymore. We are not better than them, and we must remember that. We depend on them as they depend on us, and it’s time to start acting like it.”

  “We have lost touch,” said Athena, glancing around at the others. “It couldn’t hurt to try.”

  Nearly a minute passed as everyone seemed to absorb this. A few whispered amongst themselves, but it wasn’t until Zeus sank back down into his throne that everyone seemed to relax.

  “We will try,” he said. “Abstract as that is. Do you have any solid suggestions for what we might do to implement these…ideas of yours?”

  “Yes,” I said frankly. “We need to change our names. Right now. We need to cast aside our old identities, and we need to become the people we have to be in order to adapt and survive. The name’s just the start of it, but it’s as good a start as any.”

  No one looked happy about it, not even Hephaestus, who hadn’t exactly won the name lottery. “What sort of names?” said Aphrodite, frowning.

  “I don’t know. Names that will stick around for centuries, though I suspect we can change them again if we have to,” I said. “We’ll do whatever we have to do to survive.”

  “Very well,” said Zeus. “Then why don’t you start us off? What is your new name, son?”

  Son. It may have been a single word to him, but to me, it was a moment of acceptance—a moment when we moved beyond the struggles of the past eons and stepped into a new era where the slate was wiped clean.

  It was exactly the kind of life Tuck wanted. And it was the life I would live when she couldn’t.

  “James,” I said. “My name is James.”

  * * *

  Three years later, we all still existed.

  Couldn’t lie and say it was easy—none of it was going to happen overnight, but to the council’s credit, they each tried. Only Hera kept a Greek name, refusing to budge from the roots she held so dear, though at least we were able to persuade her to change her name to the lesser-known Calliope. Even Zeus found a name powerful enough to satisfy his ego.

  Slowly but surely, the council changed. Instead of deities lording over a world that didn’t know we existed, each of us began to spend time on the surface, interacting with mortals in a way few of us had in millennia. It wasn’t painless—more than a few attempts resulted in varying disasters, mostly revolving around Aphrodite and her new set of mortal conquests. Apparently the world had changed since she’d last waltzed into the middle of a village and announced herself. But soon enough, we all adapted. We all started down the road of becoming the people we needed to be in order to survive.

  In those three years, I visited Mac, Sprout and Perry often, occasionally bringing Iris along with me. The three boys moved into the castle soon enough, and Mac slipped seamlessly into his role as the new earl. He was a kind, fair leader, exactly as I’d hoped, and as time passed, my concern for them lessened. They’d be all right. They already were.

  But despite that, I could never escape the guilt that surrounded me over Tuck’s death. Even though the boys had long since mourned her, I’d never fully recovered, and that was why it took so long before I finally made the trip I’d been dreading.

  I approached Hades’s throne with my head bowed—partially to show respect, but mostly to avoid looking at Persephone’s empty throne. He hadn’t chosen a name yet, the last of us to do so, but there was no hurry. If he chose to remain Hades, his existence was secure. Even after the last mortal died and the rest of us faded, he would live forever. But if he didn’t fill Persephone’s throne, it would be a very, very long forever. And I didn’t like the reminder of what I’d done to him.

  “Hermes,” he said in a deadened voice, and he paused. “James. Is there a problem with the souls you’ve transported?”

  “No,” I said.

  “The
n why are you here?”

  It’d been an unspoken rule between us that I went out of my way to avoid seeing him while doing my duties in the Underworld. Despite a few awkward run-ins, most of the time we managed to keep our distance. “I have a request.”

  Silence hung between us, and at last Hades sighed. “You want to see the girl.”

  “I—” I clamped my mouth shut. Of course he knew. “Yes. I won’t stay long. I just want to make sure she’s doing all right, and I have something to give her—”

  “No.” The word echoed through the throne room, even though he hadn’t spoken above a quiet murmur. “I cannot allow you to see her.”

  I gaped at him. Was he serious? “Why not? You’ve allowed others to visit mortals in the Underworld before. Why can’t I see Tuck?”

  But even as I said it, I knew. This was his revenge for what I’d done with Persephone. All these thousands of years of dancing around each other, pretending to be neutral—now that she was gone, now that he thought I’d played an integral role in stealing her from him, he was stealing Tuck from me. An eye for an eye.

  “You can’t do this,” I said. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “But you have.” He leaned forward, his silver eyes locked on me. “You are the one who wants to see her, not the other way around.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do.” He straightened again. “I will not allow it, and if you try to sneak away to find her, I will have her moved around the Underworld as many times as I must to keep her from you. You will never see her again, not as long as I am King of the Underworld.”

  He may as well have reached inside me and ripped out every piece of me that had ever mattered. I stood there, trembling, trying to think of a way around it, but I’d already apologized a thousand times over. I’d already done everything I could to make it up to him. His pride and his fury stopped him from moving beyond this, and now, because of that, we were both stuck.

  My hands tightened into fists. I could hit him. I wanted to hit him more than I wanted to live, but I’d worked too hard to get back on even footing with the rest of the council. Any attack on Hades would only send me spiraling again.

  I couldn’t do a damn thing, and he knew it.

  “Then—could you give her something for me?” I said, slipping my shaking hand into my pocket. The moment my fingertips touched the pendant, however, Hades shook his head.

  “No.”

  Of course. Of bloody course. I raked my free hand through my hair, my vision growing red. “It isn’t my fault, what happened to Persephone,” I blurted. “She’s the one who made those decisions. I just pointed out the fact that she had a choice.”

  “She did have a choice,” said Hades. “But so did you. I am not holding you accountable for Persephone’s actions. I am holding you accountable for your own.”

  I turned away. He was right, even if his methods were despicable, even if he wasn’t being fair. I’d made my choices, and I’d suffered the consequences for them time and time again. This was just the final one.

  “All right,” I said shakily as I turned back to face him. “Fine. I accept your ruling, under the condition that this is it. You can hate me as much as you want, but this is the last time you hold this over me. Period.”

  He tilted his head almost curiously. For one of us to talk to the original six like this—it was crazy, especially when he already couldn’t stand me. But I didn’t care. Enough was enough.

  “We’re even. I took Persephone from you, and you took Tuck from me. End of story.”

  I brushed my thumb against the pendant as I spoke. I’d never see her again. Not easy to swallow, not by any means, but I refused to break down in front of Hades. I was stronger than this. Tuck had made me stronger than this, and to accept this with anything but bitter grace would be dishonoring her memory. And I wouldn’t do that.

  “Very well,” said Hades after a long moment, touching the empty throne beside him. “We are even. Now go.”

  I made my way past the pews, aware of the souls who’d witnessed every moment of our conversation. None of them mattered, though. The only soul I wanted to see was one I would never meet again. Hades had seen to that.

  Halfway down the aisle, however, I stopped and faced him once more. An invisible fist squeezed my heart. “Is she happy?”

  Even from a distance, I could feel Hades’s stare burning into me. “Does it matter, when you cannot do anything to change it?”

  “Yes,” I said. It mattered.

  He pursed his lips, and at last he sighed. “Yes, she is happy.”

  That was all I needed to know. It would never change the past, it would never get me there in time to save her, but at least I could rest knowing she wasn’t in any pain. That was one small amount of comfort Hades could never take from me.

  “Thank you,” I said, and without another word, I turned and walked away.

  * * * * *

  For millennia, we’ve caught only glimpses of the lives and loves of the gods and goddesses on Olympus.

  Now Aimée Carter pulls back the curtain on how they became the powerful, petty, loving and dangerous immortals that Kate Winters knows.

  Don’t miss GOD OF DARKNESS, the final companion novella to the Goddess Test series, and learn the dark secrets of Hades’s past.

  And, read on for an excerpt from the final full-length novel in the Goddess Test series,

  THE GODDESS INHERITANCE

  Only from Aimée Carter and Harlequin TEEN!

  Excerpt from THE GODDESS INHERITANCE copyright © 2013 by Aimée Carter.

  CHAPTER ONE

  BIRTH

  Henry.

  I bolted upright in the darkness. My face was drenched with sweat as my dream faded, but his scream clung to me, imprinting itself in my memory.

  Another vision, one of dozens I’d had since leaving the Underworld an eternity ago. This time, however, I wasn’t watching Henry go about his life as ruler of the dead as he waited for me to return. I wasn’t standing by helplessly as Ava gave Henry false updates about where in Africa we were supposedly searching for Rhea.

  Finally Henry knew what had really happened, and in the minutes before dawn broke through the night, I clung to the hope that it wasn’t too late.

  “A nightmare, my dear?”

  A shiver ran through me, and the candles scattered throughout my prison lit up. Cronus sat beside my bed, in the same chair he’d occupied every night since late December, when I’d woken up with a pounding headache and memories I wished were nightmares.

  This wasn’t a nightmare though. Cronus was here, working side by side with the Queen of the Gods, who would stop at nothing to hurt me as much as she possibly could.

  The baby stirred inside of me, undoubtedly unhappy about its rude awakening. I didn’t dare speculate over whether it was a boy or a girl. If Calliope had her way, I might never know, and that heartache was already more than I could take. I set a hand on my swollen belly, so big that the simplest movements were difficult now, and mentally tried to soothe it. “You didn’t hear that?” I said hoarsely.

  “My son? Of course,” said Cronus, reaching for my stomach. I slapped his hand away, and he chuckled. “It seems the games are about to begin.”

  “What games?” I knew the answer before I’d asked the question though. My dream, my vision—it was the autumnal equinox, and finally Henry knew I was missing.

  A sharp pain shot from my back to my abdomen, and I gasped. Cronus was at my side in an instant, exactly the way Henry would’ve been if he were here. I turned away.

  “Calliope has decided it will happen today instead,” he murm
ured, and his voice would have been comforting if it hadn’t come from him.

  “Decided what would happen today?” I struggled to stand and make it to the bathroom, but my legs gave out. Cronus’s cool hands were there to steady me, but as soon as I was back on the bed, I jerked away from him.

  “That your child would be born.”

  All the air left my lungs, and this time it had nothing to do with physical pain. He was bluffing. They were trying to scare me into labor before Henry found out and rescued me, or—or something. Anything other than the truth.

  But as I leaned back, my hand found a wet spot on the mattress, and my damp nightgown clung to the back of my thighs. My water had broken sometime in the night. It was really happening.

  Nine months of waiting. Nine months of fear. Nine months of time being the only thing standing between Calliope and the baby I was carrying, and now it was over.

  I wasn’t ready to be a mother. Never in a million years had I imagined having kids before I turned thirty, let alone twenty. But Calliope hadn’t given me a choice, and with each day that passed, the sick dread inside of me grew thicker until it nearly choked me. Calliope would take the baby from me, and there was nothing I could do about it. In a matter of hours, I would lose my child—Henry’s child—to someone who wanted nothing more than to see me suffer.

  But now he knew. Now there was a chance, if only I could hold on a little longer until Henry came.

  Cronus must have seen the look on my face, because he chuckled and fluffed a pillow for me. “Do not worry, my dear. Calliope cannot kill you unless I allow her, and I assure you I would never hurt you.”

  It wasn’t me I was worried about though. “You’re not going to hurt me, but you’re going to let Calliope do it,” I snarled. “You’re going to let her take the baby the moment it’s born, and I’m never going to see it again.”