Shattered Gods (Dark Olympus, #10)(44)

I attach myself to one of the handful of groups showing up for shift change. Circe has limited manpower, and no reason to look here, 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 standard wages 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 I will show you my pigs.”

“Are you going to hide out here while the city falls? Do you think that will save you?”

“So you do have 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.”

She pauses for the briefest moment and then continues her spiral. “I am, too.” She flicks the peel into a bowl and sets the bare apple in another. “I was assured my family would remain safe. I know you think me a monster, and perhaps you’re even correct. I would do any number of things to gain power and protect my girls’ futures, but there are lines. There have to be lines.”

I’m inclined to agree, though my lines and Demeter’s are markedly different in many ways. “She’s not going to let Persephone and Callisto walk away intact. She can’t afford to.” I don’t want to believe Circe would hurt those women or end their pregnancies, but she’s up to her eyeballs in sunk cost fallacy the same way I am. She can’t change course now, no matter the consequences, no matter what sins she’s pushed to commit. If she does, it all comes crashing down.