6. Hephaestus

6

HEPHAESTUS

My knee is a ball of fiery rage as I take the elevator back down to the lobby. I screwed up. Pandora has always been too stubborn by half, and going in there yelling orders was only going to ensure she dug in her heels out of sheer stubbornness. Which she did.

I make it three steps out of the elevator before reality sinks in. I’m not going to make it across the lobby without stumbling. Yesterday was trying, but the thing that fucked me was attempting to run here. I know better, but sometimes I forget my new limits.

No, that’s bullshit. The truth is sometimes I intentionally ignore my new limits.

And I always pay the price.

This place is all black marble, black metal accents, and large windows overlooking the street. As tempting as it is to just push through and not worry about the people who will no doubt witness my weakness, the last two weeks have proven that someone is always watching.

There are a trio of benches in the lobby, separated by tasteful bush things that are undoubtedly real despite their cost to maintain. Olympus is so obsessed with appearances—but only where the rich and powerful spend their time.

I’ve seen the upper warehouse district and some of the more far-flung parts of the city where the Thirteen never roam. It’s not pretty. It’s also familiar. Aeaea is the same, at least in this. The rich control every aspect of their surroundings, and everyone else is left with the castoffs…if they’re lucky.

I make my way to the bench farthest from the windows, each step sending a hot poker of agony through my knee. My phone buzzes before I can attempt to make myself comfortable.

Minos:What the fuck happened last night?

My stomach takes an instinctive plunge in the face of his anger, but no one’s around to see it. Not that there’s anything to see. Showing hurt or guilt or anything other than stone-faced coldness is a good way to make Minos go nuclear. He prizes control over all things, and last night more than proved that I don’t have control of shit. Certainly not my wife.

Still, I’m not about to confess anything.

Me:What are you talking about?

A link appears. I already know what I’ll find before I click it. If someone’s always watching in Olympus, MuseWatch is always reporting. We knew that early on, of course, but even Minos underestimated its power initially.

The citizens of Olympus treat it as gospel, and they’re the ones we need on our side if we don’t want to get knifed as news of the assassination clause spreads like wildfire. Minos is riding that wave like he’s born to it, and why not? He’s the most charming motherfucker I’ve ever met. He could sell a drowning man water, and the public seems to adore him.

Unfortunately, manipulating public opinion isn’t a lesson Minos saw fit to teach me during all my training.

It’s even worse than I feared. The top headline splashed over the site screams:

HEPHAESTUS: DISAPPOINTING OLYMPUS AND HIS NEW WIFE.

“Fuck,” I breathe. It doesn’t get better as I read the actual text of the article.

Hephaestus and Aphrodite might have left their reception together, but they didn’t stay there. After what we can only assume was an underwhelming performance, Aphrodite was seen slipping into a certain club in the lower city. If you know, you know! Then this morning she posted a sultry pic with a mystery lover in the background who’s most assuredly not her husband. Can anyone blame her?

“Fuck,” I say again, this time with more force.

“She brings out that reaction in people.”

I don’t startle, but it’s a near thing. I glance up to find Adonis standing over me. This morning, he’s not dressed to perfection, wearing a plain white T-shirt and a pair of dark jeans. For all that, they’re clearly expensive. He’s the kind of man who clothes himself in wealth thoughtlessly because it’s all he’s ever known. He’s got nothing to compare it to. He’s never gone hungry, never gone without. His privilege is written all over his perfect features and easy smile.

It’s enough to make me hate him, except hating him is exactly what Aphrodite would want.

With that in mind, I try for a smile. “I didn’t realize it’d be like this.” There. That’s a nice neutral statement.

Adonis, of course, takes the bait. He sinks down gracefully next to me on the bench. “It was cruel of you to invite me to the wedding.”

I consider and discard several responses. After what Aphrodite pulled with Pandora, I want to strike back, to put her in her place. The one thing I’ve always been shit at is dancing the careful choreography of speaking in layers. It’s easier to scare people into doing what I want, and that won’t work with Adonis.

Instead, I tell the truth.

“Yeah, it was.” I lean back until our shoulders brush. “But I didn’t choose to get married and I wanted to hurt her.” My wife doesn’t have many obvious weaknesses, but this man is one of them. I learned that well enough at the house party Minos hosted a few weeks back; the one that ended in blood and death. During one of the headfuck games Minos played, Adonis won a “date” with me.

I never did get a chance to collect on that.

“It’s just like at the party,” he says, mirroring my thoughts. “You’re both using me as a bone to taunt the other with.” Adonis shakes his head. “I came here to check on her, to make sure she’s okay. But after seeing that social media post, I feel naive. It’s not a comfortable feeling.”

I eye him. “You just called me cruel and now you’re oversharing.”

“I guess I am.” His smile is bright and as false as fool’s gold. “I’m very angry with her right now, and I suppose I’d like to give her a taste of her own medicine.”

Surely he’s not playing right into my hands and calling it his own idea? I’ve never been lucky, and it seems to defy belief that he’d present me with such an opportunity. I hold perfectly still. “Meaning?”

“Do you want to go get a drink, Hephaestus?”

When I took the title from the last fucker who held it, I never thought I’d miss my own name. Hearing his name on everyone’s lips makes me feel invisible. It’s too late to go back, though. I’ve made my devil’s bargain and now I have to live with it.

I nod slowly. “It’s ten in the morning.”

“As if that’s enough to stop us. I know a place.” He rises to his feet. Gods, he’s a handsome fucker. Smooth dark-brown skin, cheekbones sharp enough to cut, and broad palms that speak of strength beneath the polished exterior. He holds out a hand. “What do you say?”

Even knowing this is an opportunity I’d be a fool to pass up, I can’t help eyeing his face for any sign of the pity or derision I’ve come to expect from the people in this cursed city. It’d be hard enough to adjust to my new mobility limits without them seeing my fucked-up knee as an unforgivable flaw. They react more to that than to the fact I’m a proven murderer.

It could be a trap. The Thirteen have promised to leave me alone if I married the witch, but there’s nothing stopping Adonis from taking matters into his own very capable hands. He seems like a genuinely nice guy without a murderous bone in his body, but that doesn’t mean it’s the truth.

Going with him is a risk, but the potential gain is too tempting to ignore.

Adonis merely maintains his smile and waits.

Ultimately, what decides me is the trio of people all but pressed against the glass, watching us. My knee has started to stiffen up, and if I try to get up on my own, I’m going to give them something to laugh about.

I slip my hand into Adonis’s. I’m a good four inches taller and have to weigh quite a bit more since I’m not built lean like him, but he pulls me to my feet with no apparent effort. He keeps my hand for a beat too long and then steps back. “Come on. My car is out front.”

He easily matches his stride to my slower one, and ignores the people snapping pictures of us as we step through the door and out onto the sidewalk. I can’t tell if he’s just that used to being a tiger in a cage or if he’s got a better poker face than I realized. Each click of the cameras make me want to smash them into a thousand pieces. I can’t. I know enough to recognize that, even if I chafe against the constraint.

Adonis presses a hand to the small of my back. Not urging me faster, just angling his body between mine and the press. It shocks me enough that I’m still processing it a few minutes later when we’re safely in the back of his town car.

He…protected me?

I shake my head sharply. No, this is another game. There’s no way this guy is as guileless as he seems. This fucked-up city would have eaten him alive if that were the case.

Not to mention my wife would have chewed him up and spit him out without missing a step.

He gives an address that’s only a few blocks away. When he catches my glare, he shrugs. “I’m not going to make you walk it when you’re obviously in pain. I don’t think I like you very much, but cruelty for cruelty’s sake isn’t how I operate.”

Again, I search his expression for pity or some kind of judgment, and again there’s nothing. He states it as fact and that’s that. I don’t know how to feel about it, so I ignore it completely. “You seem like a nice guy.” He huffs out a laugh, but I continue before he can get a word in edgewise. “What are you doing chasing after that witch?”

“Eris is a lot of things, but she’s hardly a witch.”

My wife’s birth name fits her far better than her title. We did our research before coming here, so I know what the last Aphrodite was like—blond and gorgeous and selling an image of perfection. She’s nothing like the woman I married. My Aphrodite is all too happy to be messy in public and make a spectacle of herself, all to humiliate me. Yeah, Eris fits her a whole lot better than Aphrodite, but I’ll never call her by that name. It feels like a capitulation, though I can’t begin to say why.

I shift on the seat. I can’t stretch out my knee in this position. “She’s doing a damned good impression of being a witch right now.”

“Yeah.” Adonis sighs. “I guess she is.”

The car stops outside a building that looks just like every other building in the center of the upper city. Chrome and glass and concrete. Back home, the buildings have more character. Even the rich like to put their own stamp on their businesses and residences. No one would mistake Minos’s house for any other, not with its copper roof tiles that have aged to a pleasing green or the brilliant coral door that is twice the size a normal door should be.

I rub my chest. I might have come here at Minos’s command, but part of me misses that house. Everything is wrong in this city, from the people to the buildings to how it’s affected my friendship with Pandora, rot already worming between us.

Adonis climbs out and again offers his hand. “Come on. No one will bother us in here.”

Again, I consider ignoring his offer for help, and again, my need not to fall flat on my face overrides the pride demanding I do it on my own. This time, his palm doesn’t linger against mine, and I tell myself I don’t mind the lack at all.

The door he guides me through takes us to a small half-circle lobby with a trio of doors leading deeper into the building. Stylized lettering frosts each of them, all in the same font and the same style. Only the words set them apart.

This city truly lacks soul.

Adonis heads to the far left one. He slips a key out of his pocket and unlocks the door. When he catches me looking, he shrugs. “As you said, it’s ten in the morning. They won’t be open for hours yet.”

I pause meaningfully. “If you’re looking to get some revenge, I’m not going to be an easy mark.”

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have won the moment you got into the car with me.” His lips curve, though the expression still hasn’t reached his dark eyes. “I want to talk, Hephaestus. That’s all. We’ll have privacy here, which is something you’ll find in short supply in this city.”

“Theseus.” I don’t know why I say it. But once it’s out of my mouth, I don’t want to take it back. “My name is Theseus.”

“Not anymore.”

“Still, I’d rather you use it.” I follow him through the door and into a surprisingly charming little bar. It’s nothing like the pub I used to spend my time in before leaving Aeaea, its walls plastered with signed dollar bills, its floors permanently sticky and the jukebox stuck on some weird-ass band no one but the owner had heard of. But…this place does have more soul than most of the city I’ve interacted with so far. There’s black and red art hanging on the walls, the style abstract in a way that feels almost violent. I look at the painting nearest us for a long moment, trying to figure out what’s causing the effect. It makes me vaguely uncomfortable.

“Maybe one day I will.” Adonis moves past me to the long bar that stretches down one wall. When I met him, I would have wagered he’d never worked a day in his life, but he slips behind the bar with a level of comfort that suggests he’s slung drinks here plenty of times.

Interesting.

I follow more slowly, still taking in the space. Black marble tabletops and black leather chairs and stools. Bright-red shelves that house a truly impressive selection of liquor. It should feel like the whole place is trying too hard, but somehow it forms a cohesive whole.

Adonis doesn’t ask me what I want. That should irritate me, but as I slide onto a stool, I find myself fascinated by the graceful way he creates two identical drinks in front of him. He moves fast enough that I can’t quite catch everything—sure as fuck not enough to recreate it.

“This is your family’s place?”

“Yes.” He adds a cherry that’s so dark it’s almost black to each drink and slides one over to me. “It’s more a hobby than anything else, but my family likes to pride themselves on being a working family, so it’s tradition that each of us work here for a bit as adults.”

An entire business that functions as a hobby. That sounds like some rich people shit. Technically, I’m one of the rich now, have been ever since Minos pulled me out of that orphanage at fifteen. But half a life among the privileged doesn’t erase that my first half was spent with nothing of my own.

Nothing except Pandora.

I should have known better than to yell at her. She’s never liked that shit; it’s a guaranteed way to ensure she does the exact opposite of what I want. Like stay with Aphrodite.

The thought of my wife anywhere near Pandora has me clenching a hand around my glass. No matter what Aphrodite wants me to think, Pandora would never jump into bed with her… I pause. Well, she wouldn’t jump into bed with my wife on our wedding night, at least. I’ve seen the people Pandora is attracted to, and to a person, the only thing they have in common is that they’re beautiful, dangerous, and bad for her.

Like my wife.

I take a drink, mostly for something to do, and am surprised to find it light and refreshing. I examine the liquid in the glass. “What is this?”

“Old family secret.” Adonis smiles and leans forward to prop his elbows on the bar. “Now, let’s talk.”