Chapter Sixteen

“Hera’s Bridal.”... Manhattan, Paris, Athens, and Palm Beach.”

“She’s in New York right now, and that means so is my dear brother. She doesn’t let him stay too long without a nanny.”

Simeon snorted. “No love lost?”

Without warning, a picture of a growling Heatherington whispering into Anna Wharton’s neck as his hands rummaged under her skirts suddenly superimposed itself over the bridal shop. The vision of his old employer fornicating with the somewhat simple lady’s companion made Simeon’s blood boil—but he got it.

Zeus had power. He didn’t need to take what others had—but he did, just to keep them in their place, just to hone his selfishness even further.

Mocking laughter filled Simeon’s head. “Ah. Got it.”

“Do you see why Seph and Hera hate him? He takes what he wants because he thinks the world owes it to him. A king isn’t supposed to ravage his subjects, he’s supposed to protect them. You know, most people in the Underworld are quite content...well, in many of the neighborhoods. Seph and the kids have really helped me with some improvement projects over the years.” Hades’ eyes were suddenly bright in his lean face. “I can’t wait for Seph to get home and see what we’ve done with the place. She had scrolls and scrolls of ideas, and I’ve made sure to work on them...”

Simeon swallowed, and the noise was amplified in his head. At least the images of Anna and the bastard were gone, leaving the dim residue of Hera’s Bridal. “Well. You’d better start plannin’ that Welcome Home party. We’ll find her.”

Hades opened his mouth, closed it, and then nodded with a stiff jerk of his head.

Simeon woke up as if someone had catapulted him forward. “Bloody hell!”

Emily was already awake next to him, wide-eyed and hugging a pillow. “Actually, Milly makes it sound like most of the afterlife is pretty suburban. They have bowling alleys now.”

“Van Helsing, did you have—”

“A visitor in my head? Mmhm. Milly thinks I made a lot of good points, but she’s on your side. Her mother would never cheat, yadda yadda.”

“You ought to know what it’s like not to believe someone. It took me nearly a year to convince you I’m not some bloodthirsty monster,” Simeon spat before he thought better of it. Great. Let’s piss her off, shall we?

A hurt look came across her beautiful face, but it slowly vanished. “Yeah... I guess. But still, a thousand years is a long time to stay faithful.”

“Not if you’re a prisoner. Or if your heart is.”

She looked at him. “Or if your heart is... Damn. That’s very poetic.”

“I like poetry. I like books. I like art.” His voice was suddenly weary. All of him was. He laid back and felt for the world around them. Nearly dark enough. They’d slept the day away, or that dream visitation had taken a lot longer than he thought. That might be true—he had a feeling these gods didn’t have the same time flow that mortals had, and it was compounded by the amusing thought that Hades didn’t know how to work his daughter’s nightmare staff.

Emily curled up next to him, her head on his chest. “Yeah? What else do you like?”

“You. I love you.”

She hugged him back tighter. “You’re going to be okay. I’m not going to let them take you. And... and if they do...I’m going to come get you back.”

“I know you will.”

For a split second, she loved him. It was the same sort of split-second panic as falling down a flight of stairs or seeing a blade you couldn’t dodge.

She loved him because he didn’t ask her how. He said, “I know you will.”

Simeon believed in her. The way Hades believed in Seph.

His heart is a prisoner. The kind of prisoner where even if you give them the key, they don’t leave. His heart is faithful. Unshakeable.

Past sins blurred out. Her image of Hades had once been a fictional, scary lord of death, and after interacting with his daughter and being on the periphery of his life, he seemed more like a confused single father who’d rather run a bowling league and host a neighborhood barbecue over the hellfire than anything big or scary.

And Simeon had lost whatever it was that made her hate him.

Doesn’t mean I should love him.

To promise to get someone back, even if it takes a thousand years?

Don’t kid yourself, Emily. You love him, even if you’re not in love with him. He’s... He’s your first true friend and your last true enemy. That’s poetic. To a hunter, to a Van Helsing... That’s everything.

She looked up at him and smiled. “What’s the plan?”

“Hera’s Bridal. New York City.”

“I’ve always wanted to stay in a real fancy Manhattan hotel and blow the big bucks on 5th Avenue.”

“You’re in luck. You’ll have to go in on this one. I’d stand out.”

Simeon sat in the driver’s seat. The car was dead silent. With a look, he gripped the wheel, and she braced herself against the doorframe, feet jammed into the passenger’s floorboards.

“Take us to the nearest, safest empty spot big enough for a car in a shadowy location within easy walking distance to Hera’s Bridal store in Manhattan, New York City, the United States of America.” Simeon read the location they’d worked out off the back of their hotel receipt, which was currently stuck in the sun visor.

The car swiveled, purred, and blurred the air as it soared away.

“We did good! I think we did good!” Simeon shouted. “Good plan to write it out first!”

“Shut up until we land!” Emily gripped his hand as the car skidded down onto the asphalt. Her stomach was rocking up to her throat and down to her knees in a sick swoop.

But he was right. They were sitting in a dark, shadowy alley in New York, and Emily could see a row of stores if she craned her neck. “I think this is the right place.”

“I think so, too.” Simeon panted, even though he didn’t need to breathe. He gently squeezed her fingers before letting her hand go. “Are you all right?”

“My stomach hates me. But, yeah. I’m fine. I can’t see the bridal store from here. Which direction do you think I should go in? Do you have the address?”

Simeon concentrated, eyes closed. “Visited New York a few times over the years. Wonder if it’s been here that long? I think... yep, the address was on the door. Here.” He grabbed the door handle and stumbled out. “Damn knees aren’t working yet. Think this ride must mess up your molecules.”

“Yeah, I’m worried about barfing on Mr. I-Rule-The-Underworld’s upholstery.” Emily nodded and clambered out as well.

The sun was gone, but the sky was still orange, fingers of night poking the light away. “You can come with me, the light’s low enough.” Emily sounded hopeful.

“I’ll do the pacing groom bit outside the shop. Maybe I’ll hear something useful.” They’d planned it out while packing, carefully avoiding falling into a repeat of yesterday’s carnal bliss. Emily would go in to browse the dresses, praying they didn’t require an appointment first. She’d feel the place out and decide how to approach Hera and ask her the delicate question, “Is your husband boffing his niece-daughter to the best of your knowledge?”

“She probably gets asked a lot of embarrassing questions,” Emily muttered as they maneuvered through the crowds on the streets.

“Yeah, but I’m bettin’ she doesn’t like it. How would you like it if the person you pledged your life to kept fuckin’ all and sundry?”

“I would hate it.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

Simeon let out a deep sigh, but it tapered off suddenly. She slipped her hand into his.

“I wouldn’t do that. You know. If I were with someone?”

“Yeah. Me, neither. Never did.” A slow smile spread across his face.

“What about all the ladies you’ve had over the years?” She hoped she didn’t sound too jealous.

“I had my dalliances. They never lasted long. At heart, I’m a romantic under the big scary vampire suit. I wanted to marry Anna Wharton. When I lost her, I thought Lilith was my salvation, my beautiful bride of the night. When she killed Anna, I killed her, and just like that—I was done looking for a woman to share my life with. Until now.”

“But you have a reputation. You’re the bad boy narrator. I even heard you on a podcast, and—”

Simeon suddenly cackled. “Listened to Smutty S.C.’s Audio-Erotica Podcast, did you, Van Helsing?”

Damn it. “Just to hear if you sounded evil,” she covered lamely.

“Well, it’s an act to keep getting narration jobs. I’m the faithful, patient sort. Like Hades. He knows in his heart. Don’t matter what everyone else thinks.”

Emily gave him a searching look as they waited at the red light. “I think I know why he gave you this job, Simeon. You’re a lot like him.”

They were moved in a crush of bodies as the light switched to green, but Simeon’s supernatural strength and her years of training kept them together, arms like an iron gate. People spilled around them, unable to go through them.

When they reached the other side of the street, Simeon paused on the gritty corner, black boots twisting as he slid closer to her. “D’you like him? Hades?”

Emily could hear the thinly veiled hint in his voice. If she compared him to Hades, and she liked Hades, then she must like him. As if this morning wasn’t proof enough. Still, she knew what it was like to be starved for affection and never feel reassured. She leaned into his shoulder and whispered, “He’s growing on me. I like you better.”

She pushed herself under his arm, and they walked like any other couple in love through the streets of New York.

“Oh. You don’t have an appointment...but you don’t need one,” assured a woman with narrow, almond-shaped eyes and luxurious waves of thick black hair arranged around a pearl-encrusted comb.

Emily paused in the doorway, a Bambi-in-the-headlights look of fear on her face. “I was just browsing.” She quickly dropped the hem of the purple silk gown that she would need two years’ salary to pay for.

“You’re here for the boss. Hera!”

“Thank you, Penelope.”

Emily’s head swiveled to follow the sound of the second voice, eyes weaving through acres of marble columns and an occasional platform with a chic model draped in white. Emily swallowed. She’d been in clothing stores around the world, even a few fancy boutiques, but never in her wildest dreams would she picture a store like this.

This place wasn’t just a shopping mecca; it was some kind of temple, and Hera was the high priestess.

Well, duh. Goddess of Marriage, right?

Hera emerged, and Emily revised her opinion. Okay, not so much a priestess, but more like a cool, efficient tycoon in an expensive and understated white dress with minimal gold accessories. Her hair was frosted blonde and swept into a complicated pile on her head with a single strand escaping (on purpose) to draw attention to her icy blue eyes.

“You’re lucky I had a cancellation. Not even a companion of the immortals can hop in here without an appointment. Sit. Champagne? Tell me, who’s the lucky man?”

Emily found herself sitting on a pristine white sofa in front of a curtained-off dressing room, a flute of champagne in her hand.

But I didn’t even move. Didn’t walk. What the hell?

“Companion of the immortals?”

“Let’s not fuss about names. You’re not one of ours, but you’re with someone—” Hera’s nostrils twitched subtly, “who doesn’t walk the line on this mortal coil. At any rate, I’m flattered you’ve chosen our pantheon to handle your bridal needs.” She smiled, her long, thin brows drawing up as she did so. A look of surprise crossed her features, which Emily figured was quite a feat. Everything about Hera radiated control, so surprise must have been a problematic emotion.

“Not just one immortal. You smell of magic and supernaturals. Where do you live?”

“Pine Ridge.”

“Of course. And who are you here with?” Hera sniffed the air and circled her hand in front of her face as if wafting a fine perfume towards her nostrils. “A vampire! My goodness. An unusual choice... but again, I admire that you’re honoring the tradition of marriage, despite wedding one of the unholy ones. Mind you, I know that’s a stereotype. So. What were we thinking? A night wedding, I assume?”

Married. To Simeon?

She’d had visions of a gray courthouse and pouring rain as she dutifully pecked the lips of the man her father picked out for her, breeding stock for the Van Helsing line.

Weddings instilled nothing but dread.

So why could she suddenly see herself in a much simpler gown, sleek, with a tiny train at the back, swooping around the floor on his arm, staring into his eyes, knowing he would never have to leave her unless unnatural causes took them away? In the distance of her imagination, Mr. Minegold dabbed his eyes. J.J. raced around a ballroom filled with gold and white balloons.

“You need no additional adornment. Your beauty is impeccable. I’d let the bride shine, my dear. Penelope, something from the Celestial line, please.” Hera snapped her fingers, and her assistant scurried.

“I’m not actually here to choose a dress,” Emily spoke up as Hera began to rise.

The goddess sat. “You... aren’t?”

“No. I’m here to ask if you’ve seen your niece. Or your husband? Zeus and Persephone?”

Hera rose, her icy eyes turning into blue gaslights. Emily felt sweat pool in the middle of her back instantly just from the goddess’ single glance. Three quick snaps of her fingers flipped the store lights off, locked the front door, and transported the assistant and her offering back to the front entrance.

“Who sent you?”

“No one. My partner—partner in investigation—and I are following leads. We spoke to Demeter yesterday, and our path led to you. Please, can we talk?”

Hera’s lips thinned.

“Oi! There’s a customer in there!” Simeon’s voice bellowed from the outside, accompanied by hammering blows on the glass door.

Emily moved toward the door, a pained expression on her face. “You’d better let him in. He’s protective, but not very patient.”

“He’s passionate, whatever else he is. You have it good, young lady. Don’t throw it away. Penelope—let the demon in and leave. We’ll be in my office.”

“Ours was an arranged marriage. Zeus arranged it.” Hera lit a cigarette and offered one to Simeon.

The vampire declined, sitting on the other side of an enormous glass-topped desk. “Mythology has a grain of truth, eh?”

“Several. Look, I can’t help you. It’s no secret that Zeus and I don’t get along. I haven’t seen him in months. Maybe years. Time moves so differently here in the mortal realm. I tell you, I took a long weekend in Olympus once, and when I came back, I had missed several presidencies.” Hera laughed a dry, mirthless chuckle. “He’s around, though. I have my eyes and ears in all of his haunts. Why do you think he’s involved with this... who was it again?”

Emily leaned forward on the visitor’s chair, which was several inches lower than Hera’s white leather swivel chair. “Persephone. Zeus’... niece.”

“Also his daughter, wasn’t she?” Simeon had opted out of subtle.

Emily could see why. Hera’s sharp eyes clouded for a minute. “Persephone. Sweet child. Beautiful. I always wanted a girl. Zeus, too. He has many, you know. I always put up with his bastards staying with us. Artemis and Apollo, Hermes, Dionysus, and Athena. Dear Athena. She’s the one step-child I actually enjoy talking to.”

“What about Aphrodite?” Emily asked timidly. This was like being on a talk show. She could sense dirt waiting to spill.

“That little tart? She likes anything on two legs. She broke my son’s heart... by marrying my other son! Can you imagine what awkward Saturnalia festivals we had because of them? And don’t even get me started on the Lemuria where Ares raised a battalion of Civil War soldiers and Heph unleashed his automatons.”

“Speaking of Lemuria... I’m on a deadline from Hades. He wants his missus back by November 1st. He swears up and down Zeus isn’t involved, but I don’t buy it. He wanted Seph from the time she was a young woman, that’s why Hades grabbed her up one day.”

Hera’s eyes flickered with anger, then clouded again. “Seph? Goodness, no one but my brother, Hades, calls her that. How did you come to meet her?”

Simeon looked at Emily and found her giving him the same confused stare. “Uh. Just said I’m on a mission from her hubby. He wants her back. Maybe Zeus knows her whereabouts?”

“Zeus’ whereabouts? Oh, who knows? In the city a few times a week. He checks into his penthouse on Long Island. The doorman is in my employ—I keep his wife permanently insatiable. That’s one gift Zeus can’t outbid me on. Tea? Coffee?”

“No, thank you. So, Zeus is around consistently, but not every day. On the days when he isn't at home, where does he go? Does he visit anyone or anywhere special?” Emily hedged. And is she in her right mind when she says days? Does days mean years? Weeks?

“I’m sure he visits his current bevy of mistresses. He hasn’t picked one to impregnate in ten centuries.”

“Eww. And also good. I guess?” Emily shrugged helplessly.

“I’m thinking that little business with the adder in his chamber pot might have finally gotten my message across.”

“Or he’s waiting for someone in particular. Someone special?” Simeon led.

“Do you know of someone?” Hera demanded, stubbing her cigarette out with a vicious twist of her perfect nails.

Emily dug her hand into Simeon’s to stop him from screaming. “Persephone. When did you last see her?”

“Hm. I can’t recall. It’s been a few years now, I know that. Maybe back in Athens, before Demeter moved?”

“Yeah. That was a thousand years ago.” Simeon crossed his arms.

“I don’t understand what the fuss is about her. Oh sure, she’s uncommonly beautiful, witty, and charming, but she’s... she’s a little peculiar, too. After Hades dragged her off to the Underworld, she actually settled in there with him! Seemed eager to get back down to that gloomy hellhole.” Hera tapped her temple. “She’s a little nuts. I think they call it Stockholm Syndrome now.”

“I think maybe there’s a lot you don’t know about her husband. For one thing, he’s a damn sight more faithful than yours,” Simeon growled.

Emily forced him back into his seat. “Great. Do you want to compare the threats of all the gods before we’re done with this mission, Mr. About-To-Be-Thrown-Into-Tartarus? Isn’t one enough?” she hissed.

Hera frowned. “I don’t know what it is with him. Honestly. I’m the Goddess of Marriage. I know every trick in the book. I can keep a man ‘interested’ for years. Even an immortal! But then there’s Zeus. He gets a girl on his mind, and he gets obsessed. He won’t let go. It’s more about his ego than anything. He always gets the girl—even if he has to trick them, like Danae. Or force them, like Europa and Leda.”

“Yeah. I’ve known that type. They charm on the surface. Twisted and sick underneath.” Simeon’s smile was bitter. “Sometimes it’s the lover—sometimes it’s a father. In Zeus’ case, seems like it could be a bit of both. Don’t know when to let go...and they like to make it so they never do. Years later, even the brightest, most beautiful girls are still on the hook.” Hera and Emily both winced. “Not your fault,” Simeon muttered.

“Still painfully accurate,” Emily slumped in her seat.

“Oh, you, too, sweetie?” Hera sat on the edge of the desk and studied Emily, her chin on her chest. “Your ex?”

“Daddy issues,” Emily sighed. That summed it up without the horrific layers of mental, emotional, and physical torment her father had heaped upon her.

“Don’t get me started on that! My father ate me.”

Emily blinked. “Pardon?”

“You heard. Ate all of us—except Mother tricked him and managed to save Zeus. Zeus saved me. Killed our dad and freed us all from his stomach. When Zeus told me I would be his bride, I was flattered, but also, what else could I do? He’d saved my life. It wasn’t like I had any experience with dating, either.” Hera sank back in her chair and pulled a silver flask from her desk drawer.

“Oh, God. I mean... Wow.” And I think my family has issues.

“Well, at least you weren’t married to him. You can move on. The vampire is much better. I can tell good husband material when I see it, believe me. Now.” Hera clapped her hands briskly. “Hadn’t you better run along, demon? It’s bad luck to see the bride in her gown, and you two already have an uphill battle, don’t you?”

It was Emily’s turn to be pushed back into a seat. “I’m not here for a wedding gown, Hera. We were talking about Zeus and his um—dating habits.”

“Oh. Right.” Hera slid gracefully from her desk and peeped out of the sheer drapes, her back to her guests. “Well, I haven’t had any mortals on my radar for a long time. Whoever he’s lusting after must be an immortal.”

“Right. Like Persephone?” Simeon insisted patiently, teeth pressed together.

Hera turned back to them, her head cocked and her eyebrows drawn together. “Who?”