But if I can’t guarantee we’ll be safe for that long, exhaustion will be the least of my worries. I have CirceandHecate—Hermes—in close quarters. Both are people the mob will target happily. Me too, I guess.
It takes a little trial and error to find the door to the roof. Clearly they don’t want people up here, where the dingy concrete is weathered by time and a couple heating units chug away gamely.
I walk to the edge and look out over the bits of the city I can see. I’m about nine floors up, which is plenty high enough to see Juniper Bridge and the spot where Hecate pulled Circe out of the river. The binoculars I brought show the scene on the bridge in stark relief. The bodies of Demeter, Artemis, and several of Circe’s people are flung across the ground, broken toys left behind by the mob as they moved in search of someone to blame. The blond who shoved Circe off the bridge is there, too. That’s going to hurt her, and badly.
I start to scan away, but movement brings me back with a snap. There’s someone else on the bridge. It takes a beat to realize I know exactly who this is, even with his head covered: Hades. He gathers Demeter’s body up, lifting her easily and almost reverently, and walks back through the barrier without a single hitch in his step.
Returning her to the Dimitriou women. Or at least three of them. He could have sent someone else to do it. Even if the bridge looks clear enough, there’s always the possibility of an ambush or an enterprising sniper. But this is Hades, and gods alone know he’ll always do the honorable thing, even if it’s foolish to the point of suicidal.
Even so, there’s an element of relief in knowing her body will be cared for. I didn’t like Demeter much, but what she did in the end was brave. Her sacrifice ensured Circe won’t be able to hold the citizens of Olympus captivated again. It might even mean the Thirteen will have no hope of regaining power. That kind of sacrifice can actually mean something if it’s the right person being martyred.
Selfish asshole that I am, I’m glad she did it before Hecate could get it intoherfool head to try something so finite. I don’t think it would have worked, even if she’d followed the exact steps, said the exact words. Hecate as Hermes might be enjoyed by Olympus, might be downright beloved for the entertainment she offers, but she doesn’t have a reputation for taking care of people the way Demeter does.
My nose tingles, pulling me back to the present. It takes a moment to place the scent beginning to permeate the air.Smoke. Once I place it, I canseeit, too, small plumes rising a few blocks over. “Fuck,” I say for what feels like the hundredth time. I pull out my phone, and after a quick internal debate, I call Eurydice. I don’t expect her to pick up, not after the events of the last few hours, but she does. Her voice is thick with tears, but her words are steady enough. “What?”
“The mob has turned into a riot.” A mob is dangerous enough, but a mob has a purpose, a goal. A riot is chaos and violence, and there’s no way to combat it. You simply have to ride it out and hope you survive. “It’s only a matter of time before they return to the bridge.” Are they out of their minds enough to throw their bodies against the barrier until it comes down? I don’t even know if itcancome down from a sustained physical assault. We’re in uncharted territory, which is strangely familiar even if I don’t know the rules.
“I’ll pass on the information.” She sniffs. “I have to go.”
“Eurydice.” I expect her to hang up on me, but she pauses, waiting for me to continue. “I’m sorry about your mother. If I could have saved her, I would have.” We did what we could, destroying the speakers, shooting at Antigone when she rounded on Demeter, but it happened so fast.
“I’d like to believe that.” There are voices in the background, the sound of someone sobbing. “I have to go.” She hangs up.
I stay up on the roof for another twenty minutes, trying to pinpoint exactly where the riot is taking place. I think it’s on the move, heading toward the center city. It’s not quiet, so hopefully people are getting out of the way and seeking shelter.
Advice I should take for myself. I note the smaller bands roaming the streets closer to me and then descend to the ground level and slip out onto the street. It’s quick work to make it back to Hecate’s safe house and key in the code. After ensuring the door is firmly locked behind me, I head upstairs.
As I reach the door, I find myself holding my breath. What am I about to walk in on? Surely they’re too exhausted to get up to sexual shenanigans. But if they’re not…
Since the alternative is sleeping in the hall, I grit my teeth and walk into the apartment. Hecate and Circe are in the exact same positions I left them, curled in blankets and passed out cold.
I give them a quick check to ensure nothing has changed for the worse. Both seem to be a normal temperature now and both are breathing steadily. Good.
The bedroom is barely large enough for the queen-size mattress and box spring that sit on the floor. I run my hand over the sheetsand smile a little. This place might be dingy as shit, but trust Hecate to ensure there’s a high thread count on her bed.
I take a quick shower and resign myself to washing my clothesagain, along with theirs. At least I find the closet stocked. It’s honestly amusing to see the Hermes costume of glitter and bright colors next to the more utilitarian black of clothing Hecate wears when she gets up to no good. She only has her size, but at least there are underwear and shit like that in the tiny cabinet shoved into the bottom of the closet. I roll my eyes and pull on a T-shirt that ends up tight and cropped and a pair of underwear that barely covers the necessities. Still better than walking around naked or in one of the threadbare towels.
But now there’s a decision to make. The bed would be lovely beyond measure, but I can’t leave those two out in the main area right in front of the door. There’s no reason for anyone to know where we are, but there’s even less reason to make assumptions that end with one or all of us dead.
With a frustrated sigh, I yank the bedding back and go to collect the other women. It’s not until I’m tugging back the solar blanket from Hecate that I register the fact she’s naked. They both are. I’m the one who took off their clothing, but it was in a moment of panic and narrowed vision, intent on keeping them alive. Now they’re alive and warm, and I’m slipping my arms around Hecate in a way I’ve wanted to do for years.
My traitorous mind registers how soft her skin it, how the way her braids slide over my arm makes me shiver, how her small breasts are topped with perfect brown nipples. I try to shut it down, but I’m tired and scared and angry, and she’s so fucking beautiful, and wehaven’t fixed anything or solved the Circe problem, and my heart fucking hurts. I lay Hecate down on the bed and she barely murmurs as she rolls over and flings her arm out. I want to see it as a true sign of her trust, but the reality is that she almost died today.
Circe is next, and no less torturous. Because I know how it feels to slide my mouth down the center of her chest, to part her deceptively muscular thighs and taste her at her core. I know the sound she makes when she comes and how her fingers feel digging into my hips as she rides my thigh. It kills me to lay her next to Hecate and pull the blankets over them both. And yet there’s something satisfying in it, too.
I take the time to fold the solar blankets and shove a chair under the doorknob, and then I lie down on the couch and close my eyes. Despite my racing thoughts, sleep takes me in its comforting embrace, tugging me gently down into the dark.
Only to be woken a short time later by the soft sound of footsteps. I jolt out of sleep, my hand going to the gun I set on the floor next to the couch. I wake up to find it pointed at Hecate’s surprised face.
She blinks. “I know you’re not happy with me, but shooting me feels a little dramatic.”
I jerk the gun to the side and then lower it. I’m shaking. I don’t know whenthatstarted, but I can’t seem to control it. “Don’t sneak up on me when I’m sleeping.”
“I was basically stomping my way over here so you’d hear me coming.” She shuffles her bare feet, not making a single sound. I belatedly realize she’s wrapped in a blanket, but not the one from the bed. She bites her bottom lip. “You’re out here to guard the door.”
“Yeah.” It takes effort to keep my gaze on her face, to notpicture her body beneath the blanket, to not wonder if she’s as naked now as she was then.
“I…” She looks away and then back at me. “Can I sleep out here with you?”
