Hermes is an ambiguous role. She’s a technical genius who handles all the security features in the upper city. It always struck me as strange that the Thirteen let her be so close when they guard their secrets like jealous lovers, but I’m one position removed. Maybe they understand something I don’t. Or maybe they fall victim to this glaring weakness in their defenses because it’s the way things have always been done. Difficult to say.
Dionysus? He’s a jack of all trades beneath the umbrella of entertainment. Parties and events and social positioning are his forte. And so are drugs and alcohol and other illicit entertainments. Or at least that’s the rumor. My mother has always gone out of her way to ensure we’re never around him, which is slightly ironic considering how she’s trying to effectively sell me to Zeus.
I shudder.
“Cold?”
“No, just thinking too hard.” I give myself a shake. “We live in a strange world.”
“That’s an understatement.” He guides me around the corner, and we walk in easy silence for a few blocks. Once again, it strikes me how comfortable people seem to be here. They don’t stare at Hades and me as we walk past, something I didn’t realize I missed. In the upper city, the only thing people love more than politicking and ambition is gossiping, and as a result, the gossip sites pay a pretty penny for pictures and news about the Thirteen and those in their respective circles. My sisters and I are constantly being photographed like midtier celebrities.
Here, I could be anyone. It’s incredibly refreshing.
I’m so busy contemplating the differences between upper and lower city that it takes me a good ten minutes to realize Hades is moving far slower than he would naturally. I keep catching him checking his stride. “I’m fine.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“No, but I’m pretty sure that old lady just lapped us around the block.” I point to the gray-haired Latina woman in question. “Honestly, Hades. My feet are doing much better. They barely ache today.” It’s even the truth, not that I think he’ll believe me.
As expected, he ignores my attempt to be reasonable. “We’re almost there.”
I fight down the urge to roll my eyes and let him lead me one more block into what appears to be a warehouse district. We have several areas like this in the upper city, large building after large building, all varying shades of gray and white. My mother is in charge of the one connected to the food supply.
Hades moves to a narrow unmarked door and holds it open for me. “In here.”
I take one step inside and stop short. “Wow.” The warehouse is one massive room that has to take up most of the city block, a divine space filled with fabric and clothing in every color and texture imaginable. “Wow,” I say again. My sisters would die to get a chance to peruse this space.
Hades speaks softly, the words designed not to carry. “Juliette used to be the premier designer for Hera—the one two Heras ago—but when she died, Juliette was a little too vocal about her suspicions of Zeus so he set out to destroy her business. She crossed the river seeking sanctuary.”
I drift closer to the nearest dress form, clothed in a magnificent red gown. “I saw Zeus’s oldest daughter, Helen, wearing something similar to this two weeks ago.”
“Yeah.” Hades snorts. “Just because Juliette is effectively exiled doesn’t mean she lost her clientele. That’s how the Thirteen work. They do one thing publicly and something else behind closed doors.”
“Once again, just reminding you that you’re one of the Thirteen.”
“Technicality.”
A woman’s voice comes from somewhere farther in the warehouse. “Is that Hades I hear?”
He lets loose an almost silent sigh. “Hello, Juliette.”
The Black woman who appears from between racks of clothing has the kind of timeless beauty that starts on runways and only gets better with age. Her short black hair leaves her face on full display and I actually sigh a little at how gorgeous she is. Like a painting or a piece of art. Flawless. She walks toward us, each movement graceful, and I am doubly sure that she used to spend time on runaways. Juliette takes me in with a single look. “You brought me a gift. How thoughtful.”
He gives me a little nudge in her direction. “We need the works.”
“Hmmm.” She circles me like a shark, all elegant predatory movement. “I know this girl. She’s Demeter’s middle daughter.”