Circe has always known exactly where my fault lines lie. It’s frustrating to discover a decade apart hasn’t changed that. Callingher was a mistake. Sleeping with her was a mistake.Lovingher was a mistake.Except I can’t believe that last bit, thought my life would be so much simpler if it were true. “You’re right. I was careless with her. I won’t be again.”
“Good. She deserves better than to be treated like an afterthought.”
Circe in a nutshell. She’s complicated in the extreme, and clearly the time spent apart hasn’t changed that any. I sigh. “The mob will turn on you, one way or another. They won’t trade the Thirteen for a queen, no matter how pretty you talk.”
“Perhaps.” To anyone else, she must sound unbothered, but Iknowher. There’s a thread of tension in her tone, just beneath the charming surface.
“So youareworried about the potential.” I smile, pleased to know I’ve gotten under her skin. At least the phenomenon goes both ways. I’m not used to it being the other way around. “Well, good luck.”
“Hecate.” Her voice changes, the faint flirtation gone, replaced by icy seriousness. “Where are you right now?”
I take a turn off the main road. This one is still paved—nothing less for Demeter—but it’s far narrower. “Oh, here and there, hither, thither, and yon.”
“Whatever you’re planning—”
I mimic a crackling noise. “Sorry, can’t hear you. You’re breaking up.” I hang up the phone and flip it over to pull the battery and SIM card out. I highly doubt Circe would allow tracking onherphone, but no reason to make it easy on her.
I take another turn and ease to a stop in front of a massiveindustrial farm. Demeter’s personal residence is on the other side of it, and technically I could drive right up, but there’s no reason to announce my presence. Even with the city on the edge of disaster, industry churns on. People have to eat, and they need the money their paychecks bring. How strange it must feel to clock into their jobs while knowing that Olympus has fallen. So much change, and yet so much stays the same.
I attach myself to one of the handful of groups showing up for shift change. Circe has limited manpower, and no reason to lookhere, but it would be silly to give anyone reason to look at me twice. Even without my customary uniform of glitter and bright colors, I’m not hiding my face. If someone recognizes me… Well, it’s best they don’t.
The moment we enter the first building, I peel off and take a roundabout path through factory after factory, toward the other side of the property. Circe and I both worked for the last Demeter, though we didn’t hold positions in these buildings. I’ve come here a time or seven over the years since taking over Hermes.
The last Demeter wasn’t quite as ambitious as this one. He’s one of the few members of the Thirteen who voluntarily stepped down, wanting to spend his twilight years surrounded by family instead of playing politics. He turned seventy-five last spring. I hope he’s found somewhere safe to hide.
This Demeter has made many changes in the years since she was voted into the title. The factories have all been expanded, machinery switched out for newer, sleeker versions. There are more people on the floor, too, and if they work steadily, it’s without hunched shoulders conveying fear and exhaustion. She might be a monster, but she’s a fair one. I know for a fact that she pays better than standardwages to all her workers, giving them regular raises to reflect the growing industry she prevails over.
On the other side of the property, I climb one of the water towers to get a good look around. The house down the hill is easily larger than the one I kept in the countryside—and subsequently sold to Minos for his murder party—but with significantly less whimsy, if I do say so myself. Brick, brick, and more brick. Perfectly trimmed hedges and plants, no doubt coordinated flowers in the spring and summer.
Demeter likes everything in its place.
There are also the expected guards, courtesy of Circe, positioned in a car parked in the drive. Not very subtle, but I suppose there’s no reason to be. Whether for protection or as a threat, they’re effective.
From my current height, I can see the back of the house as well. The yard is a sprawling thing with many trees and plants. I’m actually surprised to find Demeter hasn’t chosen a traditional lawn, instead creating a space that feels natural, a little imperfect. The fence around it is tall and unwelcoming, which means that space is just for her and her family. Interesting.
I climb down and take a roundabout path to the back fence. It’s tall and imposing, but that’s the extent of its defenses. Within seconds, I’m in the yard and shielded from outside view. After quick consideration, I give myself a shake and walk normally toward the back door.
Demeter herself steps out before I can reach the stone patio, a shotgun held easily in her hands. It should look absurd against her floral wrap dress, but Demeter has always contained multitudes. She may have been born to money, but she’s a country girl at heart.
I make a show of looking around. “Where are the famed pigs I hear so much about?”
“Most people don’t meet them voluntarily.” She doesn’t match my easy tone, her hazel eyes hard. “What are you doing in my backyard, Hermes?”
“You’re a smart woman. You tell me.”
“Even now, you can’t stop yourself from playing games.” She shakes her head. “Well, I’m not interested in anything you have to say. Get off my property or Iwillshow you my pigs.”
“Are you going to hide out here while the city falls? Do you think that will save you?”
“So youdohave something to say.” Her mouth thins. “Fine. You might as well come in and say it.” She turns around without another word and walks through the back door.
There’s a better-than-average chance she’ll shoot me the moment I follow, but this is Olympus, and not even Olympus at its most lawful. If she were going to kill me, she would do it out in the yard where the cleanup is easier. Probably.
I walk into a cozy hallway filled with pictures on the walls and follow the sounds of footsteps into a bright kitchen with large windows, granite countertops, and custom cabinets. With anyone else, it would look like a showroom, but this is clearly used, and not just right now as Demeter resumes…peeling apples.
“You want to talk?” She speaks without looking up, peeling in a perfect spiral I would be hard put to mimic. “Then talk.”
I clear my throat. After all this time, I’m not used to speaking frankly. It’s a learned skill, and one I currently struggle with. “I’m sorry about Eros.”
