Their blades clashed violently, a manifestation of their hatred. Hades might have let the battle go on, but the demi-god had stoked his rage, and it burned hot. It was only a few seconds later that Theseus’s head rolled across the pristine floor, leaving a streak of red in its wake.
Chapter 8
Dionysus
“No, no, stop!” Dionysus silenced the choir again. “Altos, you have to harmonize!”
He addressed the group, but it was really just one person. He planned to speak to the woman after practice was over, but Medusa had other plans.
“Just say who it is!” she said, glaring at the woman beside her. “Janet!”
It was Janet, but Dionysus was trying to be courteous, even though that was more than the middle-aged woman deserved. She’d argued with him from the start, claiming she was a soprano, which he ignored, and now, at every practice, she tried to prove it.
Janet’s brows rose, mouth agape. “He isn’t talking about me!”
“Yes, he is!” Medusa hissed before turning her stony gaze toward him. “That’s why you tell people when they are the problem, Dionysus.”
He took a breath and scrubbed his face. If he could die right now, he would, just to keep from dealing with this.
“He isn’t saying I’m the problem because I’m not!” said Janet, the words slipping between clenched teeth.
“Oh no, Janet, you are definitely the problem,” Dionysus said.
Janet made a high-pitched sound in her throat before storming off stage. Music stands crashed to the ground as she shoved her way down the riser steps, white sheets of paper flew everywhere, covering the stage like snow.
No one spoke, even after Janet slammed the door.
Dionysus glared at Medusa—and so did everyone else.
“What?” she asked, defensive. “I said what we were all thinking.”
“I think that’s enough practice for tonight,” said Dionysus. “We’ll reconvene tomorrow for our final practice before the tree lighting.”
The theater was filled with the low murmur of voices and rustling paper as the choir packed up. Medusa jumped down from the stage and approached, the fire in her pale-yellow eyes smothered. Now she just looked confused.
“I don’t understand what I did wrong. You stopped us five times, and each time it was because Janet was too loud.”
He sighed. He made it a point to be patient with Medusa, knowing her life had been more than unfair. She’d spent most of it in forced isolation, hunted for her power which would only manifest in death. She was direct, painfully so. Sometimes it was charming, but mostly, people found her to be rude.
“I know, Medusa,” he said. “But there are ways to address these issues, and they don’t have to include critiquing someone in front of everyone.”
“It wasn’t a critique,” she argued. “It was…the truth!”
“It’s how you said it, Medusa. You’re going to have to apologize to Janet.”
“She should apologize for interrupting practice five times!”
His headache grew worse, and he rubbed the spot between his eyes.
“Uncle!” He heard Acamus’s voice right before the toddler barreled into his leg, hugging him tight.
He grinned and picked him up. “Hey, little dove.”
He kissed the boy’s cheek and then Ariadne as she approached.
“Medusa, it’s good to see you,” said Ari, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “You look beautiful.”
The gorgon blushed. “Thank you.”
