Theo’s enthusiasm for crime solving had dissolved around the time the stockbroker’s body landed a few yards away from him, her blood spattering the toes of his winter boots. Another trade gone horribly wrong, they said. Another master of the financial markets, seemingly invulnerable, brought to utter despair as millions of dollars disappeared into the electronic ether. She too, her coworkers reported, had seen the victim on the bull beneath her window and felt drawn to join him in oblivion. Theo hadn’t seen her die: He’d screwed his eyes shut the second he saw her jump, unwilling to witness the crude carnage of her death.
Yet here I go, he thought as he approached the Medical Examiner’s Office, walking voluntarily into a charnel house. One dead body was too much. But dozens? Why not.
Theo had never visited the morgue before. Few New Yorkers had. If, in some rare circumstance, they needed to identify a body, the police would show them a photograph. Civilians didn’t get the dubious privilege of viewing the corpse in the flesh. But Selene had managed to convince Detective Freeman that she and Theo should get a crack at the body of the homeless victim. How else could they identify any further clues that would help them understand this new cult?
As Theo walked into the autopsy room, an overwhelming stench of rotten meat nearly knocked him flat. Beside him, Selene clapped a hand over her nose and mouth, her face green. Freeman gagged audibly. A slight, bearded medical examiner rushed over and handed them surgical masks that dampened the worst of the smell.
“What in the world, Janz?” the young detective demanded with none of her usual diffidence.
“I know! There must be something wrong with the refrigeration system because the corpses looked fine when I rolled them out, and then a few minutes ago, bam! It was like they’d all been sitting in the heat for days!” He turned to an assistant, panicked. “Let’s get them all back into the drawers!” The coroners rushed about, rolling corpses in various stages of decomposition past Theo like the world’s worst dim sum offerings. Finally, only one body remained in the room, covered modestly with a sheet. Janz came back to them, a sheen of sweat on his brow.
“Sorry about that, Detective. But I’ve got your John Doe ready for you. And let me tell you, he’s as much a mystery as our broken cooling system.”
“Maybe our visitors can help you out,” Freeman said, gesturing to Theo and Selene. “They’re specialists in human sacrifice.”
“Well,” Theo began, “that makes it sound a bit grim. I’m a classicist. Human sacrifice is sort of a sideline.” That, he realized, sounded even worse.
“Oh, you’re the folks who tracked down the Classicist Cult this fall?” The examiner reached for Selene’s hand, but she just stared at him coldly.
“That’s us.” Theo proffered his own hand, then fought the urge to wipe it on his trousers to dislodge any corpse cooties.
“Good, because I’m stumped.” Janz looked relieved. “It’s not the cause of death that’s the problem, because that’s pretty clear: His heart has been completely removed.” He spoke as if this shocking fact were all in a day’s work. “But the body itself is a complete anomaly.”
“Why’s that?” Freeman asked.
“First of all, he’s not really a homeless man.” The medical examiner pulled back the sheet. Theo noticed Selene stiffen beside him. She stared down at the body as if she’d never seen a dead man before. Strange, since she’d seen thousands—not a few of whom she’d killed herself.
Theo forced himself not to look away from the gaping hole in the man’s chest. Other than that disfigurement, he seemed like a typical corpse. Sunken cheeks, deathly pale skin. Unlike the other bodies, however, he was relatively well preserved. No blackened flesh, no odor of putrefaction. He was well over six feet tall, his body an amalgamation of bony limbs and loose skin, like a man who’d only recently lost a great deal of muscle mass. A large beaked nose, thinning gray hair to his shoulders. His hands were overlarge, each knuckle protruding like a skeleton’s. They’d removed his ragged clothing, and Theo turned his eyes away from the darker nest of hair between the man’s thighs.
Janz lifted the victim’s ring finger with his own gloved hand. “His fingernails were perfectly manicured and coated with clear polish, like some celebrity or tycoon. And there’s not a spec of sebungual dirt.”
Freeman whipped out a notepad and started writing. “So they dressed him up in rags and smeared his face with dirt to make him look homeless?”
Janz nodded. “Under his clothes, his body was perfectly clean.”
The detective pointed toward the bloody well in his chest. “What could’ve done that?”
The examiner raised his eyebrows behind his glasses. “I was hoping you could tell me. Some sharp object with a serrated blade. Went in through his chest and sliced the ribs before severing the arteries to remove the heart. He would’ve been alive when it happened. Is that common practice among cultic sacrifices, Professor?”
“Um. I don’t actually know,” Theo admitted. “Human sacrifice was exceedingly rare in the classical world. But I can tell you that animal sacrifices certainly weren’t tortured. They were supposed to go willingly to their deaths; otherwise the sacrifice wasn’t auspicious.” He drew his finger across his throat. “One clean slit. You might see an organ removed for haruspicy—examining the animal’s entrails for omens—but usually the liver, not the heart. Amazing that classical civilization flourished as long as it did while basing all kinds of monumental decisions on the shape of organ meat, but there you have it.” He looked to Selene, knowing he’d get an angry glare for implying the gods’ signs were anything but authentic. But she continued staring down at the victim, her face creased with distress, ignoring Theo entirely.
Freeman didn’t pay much attention to his history lesson either. “Any more progress on the ID?” she asked the examiner.
“No. We ran fingerprints, but no matches. But since he’s no vagrant, it’s likely we’ll get a hit when someone reports him missing.” Janz pointed to an indentation in the flesh of the man’s finger. “Signs of a wedding ring, even though none was found. So maybe we’ll hear from the spouse. But there are other anomalies. Johnny Doe looks like he’s in his seventies, but—”
Selene spoke for the first time, interrupting the examiner with a growl. “Don’t call him that.”
Janz blinked behind his glasses. “What?”
“Don’t act like his name’s already been erased.”
Freeman jumped in before Theo could. “Ms. DiSilva, it may sound harsh, but that’s just standard procedure until we identify him.”
Theo glanced down at Selene’s clenched fists. “Do you want to step outside for a minute?” he asked. “Take a break from the dead bodies?”
“We’re done here,” Selene said, already walking away.
“Don’t you want to hear the rest of the autopsy report?”
“We don’t need to.”
Theo stayed behind for a few minutes, apologizing to Freeman and Janz for Selene’s rudeness, then exited the building. A small concrete courtyard lay before him. Bare trees, a single bench. Selene paced in a tight circle through the snow, talking on her antiquated phone.
“You don’t understand.” She threaded a hand through the white streak in her black hair, tugging with uncharacteristic agitation. “We need to talk right away. Someone blabbed, Paul. And it better not be you. Don’t hang up on me. I don’t care about your concert.” She barely paused for a response before barking, “Sure, I’ll be careful, Paul, don’t worry.” She snapped her phone shut and sat down heavily on the bench, not bothering to brush away the snow.
“What’s going on?” Theo asked, trying not to sound as frustrated as he felt. “And what the hell was that back there? We were about to learn something, and you rushed out like Cerberus hearing a dog whistle with all three heads.”
She ignored the jibe. “The examiner made it all sound like some vast mystery, when really it’s very simple.”
“Oh yeah?”
“He was about to tell us that the evidence so far showed that the victim wasn’t an old man after all. That his body was wrinkled and weak, but he showed few other signs of normal aging: no bone loss, no worn teeth.”
“Oh.” Theo started to understand. His mind spun, trying to reorganize everything he’d observed so far. He sat beside Selene on the bench, searching her face for some sign of grief over the death of one of her kin. She just stared up at the pale blue sky, her face emotionless. He had the sudden impression she sought something—or someone—among the wisps of cloud.
“Is that your father in there?” Theo asked, taking her hand in his. Selene had never told him where Zeus currently resided. She rarely even spoke of him, but he’d always gotten the impression she loved him deeply. After losing her mother so recently, he wasn’t sure how Selene would react to losing her father as well.
But she only shook her head. “The stockbrokers losing their money, the corpses suddenly putrefying … Sometimes, when a god dies, his death has ripple effects on the parts of the world he once controlled. A last little gasp of homage from a place that has otherwise forgotten him.”
Only one god would affect both corpses and bankers. “Hades. Lord of the Dead. God of Wealth,” Theo said, a shiver crossing his flesh. Of all the Athanatoi, Hades was the only one he’d never wanted to meet.
Selene nodded solemnly. “It happened when my mother died. The babies in the hospital cried, mourning the loss of the Goddess of Motherhood. But she faded away naturally—she was ready to go. The death of a god like Hades, murdered while still strong, might cause a much greater reaction.”
“If he’s so strong, then why did he look so frail?”
“In his own realm, he was almost invincible—you know how men still worship wealth. But our powers are funny things. They work differently for all of us. An old proscription from my father meant that when Hades emerged aboveground, he lost his strength. An Athanatos would know that.”
“So you’re saying a god did this—one who knew the secrets of Orion’s rites. But your brothers who took down the last cult with us promised not to perform rituals of their own.”
“They can’t be trusted. I’ve been trying to explain that to you. Why do you think I don’t talk to them? Because I like being lonely? It’s because they’re all insane. The lure of unlimited power—it’s just too strong for them to resist, no matter the consequences.”
“I don’t buy it,” Theo insisted. “How could this be a cult in their honor if it’s got none of their attributes? No ivy for the Wine Giver, no laurel or sun emblems for the Bright One, and nothing that would indicate the Smith or the Messenger either.”
She huffed in exasperation. “Then one of my brothers told another god about the cult, and that immortal is behind this. Either way, one broke his promise.”
“You don’t know that. There are humans out there who know about the gods, right? Humans like me. So maybe Hades let the secret of his strength slip to some trusted mortal drinking buddy, and that mortal turned against him. Because, let’s face it, having the Lord of the Dead drop by all the time for trivia night is about as socially awkward as you can get. So eventually this mortal buddy decides that a cult ritual is the perfect way to kill off a god while showing him some respect at the same time.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Any more ridiculous than one of your brothers murdering his own uncle? And doing it in a ritual with none of his own attributes—so it can’t give him any strength? Why would they bother?”
“Whoever this is—mortal or immortal—they knew where to find Hades.” Her voice tightened in anger. “That means they might know where to find me. I’m in real danger. All the gods are in danger. I think I’d heal from anything but a divine weapon—but a wound like that? So much blood? I’d have to test it to know.”
“Jesus. How about we not try that particular experiment.” In theory, he was well aware that Selene’s immortality was incomplete at best. But in practice, he’d gotten so used to seeing her perform preternatural feats and heal with uncanny speed that it was easy to forget just how vulnerable she truly was.
“Don’t worry. So far, my theory’s been ‘avoid massive chest wounds whenever possible, no matter the weapon.’”
“Glad to hear it.” But he wasn’t reassured. Any thought of Selene as a superheroine and him as her faithful, sleuthing sidekick was banished by the sudden image of her bleeding to death on a bronze bull, her power gone, her eyes dim.
She must have felt his change of heart, because all hint of lightness left her voice when she said, “I’ve never seen a god killed before.” She didn’t need to say she was scared. He saw it in the sudden tension of her jaw. “My mother died peacefully, fading into mortality. Orion—he wasn’t really a god to begin with. But Hades … Styx,” she cursed, blinking away tears before they could fall. Theo knew her appearance of divine frigidity was largely a facade—her emotions were as fluid as any human’s—but seeing her so afraid shook him to his core. He wished, not for the first time, that he was an old-fashioned hero. Someone like Perseus, wielding a magic shield to protect the woman he loved from monsters real and imagined.
“You’re using Hades’ real name,” he noted quietly. Usually, Selene only called the gods by their epithets.
“Now that he’s gone, the name doesn’t have any power. It’s just part of a myth. Like Hades himself.”
Theo felt her shudder beneath his touch and held her hand a little tighter. “You’re safe,” he said, wrapping her in his embrace. “We didn’t let the last cult hurt you. This one won’t either. You’re strong, Selene. And you’re not alone, remember? You’ve got me. You’ve got Paul.”
“Paul?” She spoke Apollo’s mortal moniker like a curse. “Don’t you see? Now we know someone revealed the secrets of the last cult. Someone who knew that the only sacrifice more potent than a human was a god. I called my twin just now—he denied it, of course, but he wasn’t even listening to me. And don’t tell me to give him the benefit of the doubt,” she went on before Theo could protest. “He’s playing a concert at the Bowery Ballroom, and he’s in the middle of a sound check or something. He sounded completely distracted and said we’d talk later.”
“You told the Bright One someone murdered an Athanatos and he didn’t care? Wow. Your twin really does think the sun rises and sets with him.” He’d hoped the pun would help calm her down, but she only shook her head.
“Either he’s part of this plot or something is deeply wrong with him—and I have no idea what that could be.”
That’s the second time she’s admitted her ignorance, Theo realized. Usually, when she didn’t understand something, Selene remained stonily silent. Now all her worries streamed out, dragging Theo into their wake and sending him reeling alongside.
There was a catch in her voice as she admitted, “I thought that since Paul and I aren’t fighting anymore, it’d be just like old times. We used to be two halves of the same whole. But it’s not like that at all. Too much time has passed. All I know is that he won’t be so calm once he realizes that even the strongest of us is a single blow away from death. From becoming exactly what men already think we are: figments of their imagination.”
Theo placed a finger on her chin and gently turned her face toward his. “Selene, you’re right here. You’re not going anywhere.” He kissed her, hard, on the mouth. A reminder that when she foundered, he would be her rock, just as she so often was for him. She took a deep breath, and he saw her visibly steady herself. He smiled. “And you better exist outside of my imagination, or damn, I’m even more of a loser than I thought.”