Shattered Gods (Dark Olympus, #10)(83)

“I’ll ensure they make it to you safely. No one else will die.” The way Hecate says it, firmly and confidently, I almost believe her. She glances at Atalanta, reading some unspoken communication there. “It’s time.”

Part of me wants to retreat, to walk into the bedroom and shut the door, maybe to take a shower for good measure. Every instinct I’ve developed over the years has been in the effort of only allowing part of myself to be perceived. If they can’t see all of you, they can’t hurt you, not really.

What Hecate is about to do is the equivalent of dancing naked in the middle of the street, but if she’s brave enough to broadcast this vulnerability to the entire city, then I can be brave enough to witness it firsthand.

She arranges herself on the couch in front of the phone we’ve positioned on a makeshift stand: a stack of books and other things we found around the apartment. I hate how alone she looks. I hate…

Atalanta sits next to me, close enough for her thigh to press tightly to mine. She takes my hand and laces our fingers together without saying a word—a silent acknowledgment of how fucking hard this is…and not just for me. Her thigh contains the faintest tremor, as if she’s forcing herself to hold still instead of knocking the phone off the pile of things and wrapping herself around Hecate.

Hecate who looks soft and tired and all too vulnerable in this moment. But the recording has started, and it’s too late to do anything but bear witness.

Hecate smiles softly at the camera. “You know me. Or at least you think you do. I’ve held the title of Hermes for roughly ten years. In that time, I’ve been your favorite form of entertainment, a court jester for you to laugh at and with in equal measure. But I wasn’t always Hermes. It’s time for me to introduce myself properly.” She takes a deep breath. “My name is Hecate, and this is my story.”

I know the events she’s relating by heart, and yet it feels like she’s stripping me down piece by piece as she speaks.

“I was born in the countryside. My father died in a work accident when I was seven. My mother died several years later of a cancer she likely got from breathing in the fumes from her work without the proper ventilation and equipment. My aunt and uncle took me in and did their best, but it wasn’t an easy life.” The pain is there in her dark-brown eyes, so open and honest.

“When I was a teenager, I fell in love with a girl.” Her attention doesn’t move from the phone, but I swear I feel it flick to me all the same. “Even as hard as things were, we were immortal in the way teenagers believe themselves to be. When we were sixteen, we dropped out of school and took jobs for the last Demeter.”

We were so sure it was the right choice. The only choice, really. Her aunt and uncle were having their own health problems by that point, and Hecate didn’t want to be a burden. I had no one but her; I would have done anything she asked, anything to carve out a little place in the world that was just ours.

“It wasn’t a perfect life, but we were happy for years.” She pauses, gathering herself. “And then my girlfriend took a day trip into the city to buy me an anniversary gift—a wedding ring.”

I flinch. How did she know that? I’d never confessed my plan leading up to the trip, and I certainly hadn’t told anyone about it in the time since.

Hecate’s eyes are luminous with unshed tears. “You know at least part of the story from here. While she was in the city, she had the grave misfortune of drawing Zeus’s attention. He was in want of a wife, and she didn’t have the power to tell him no.” She shakes her head. “No one in Olympus has the power to tell Zeus no. Not the legacy families. Not even the Thirteen.”

Atalanta squeezes my hand again, a silent comfort. I hadn’t realized I’d started rubbing my chest, for all that my discomfort isn’t physical. I’ve told this story, but it’s different now. Hecate isn’t using this tragic tale as leverage the same way I did. She’s laying herself bare.

“She was too fierce, too wild, and he killed her for it.” A single tear slides down her cheek. “Or at least we all thought he did, but that’s not part of this story yet.” She wipes the evidence of her grief away hastily. “I was distraught. I fell into a pit I didn’t think I’d ever get out of again, one I only survived with the help of a friend.”

Now it’s my turn to rub my thumb over Atalanta’s knuckles, giving comfort as she joins the path through ugly memories.

Hecate leans forward to prop her elbows on her knees and laces her fingers together loosely. “I looked around and so many things became clear. We live in a world where one powerful man can take a spouse against their will. Where he can kill them without fear of consequences. Except it wasn’t just one powerful man. It was thirteen people and the legacy families that feed their positions. The entire system is corrupt down to its very bones. We are allowed to vote for one of those positions, and that election is flawed because only the rich and powerful have the resources to run a proper campaign. It has to end.”

Now she straightens, blazing with her truth. “I became Hermes to dismantle the system from within. While things haven’t gone according to plan by any stretch of the imagination, we now find ourselves at a place where we have a chance, as a city, to make a different choice.” She takes a deep breath and launches into the invitation—and threat—giving the details she’s already relayed to the lead figures of the various factions of Olympus. Just as we planned.