IT HAS BEEN A WHILE SINCE I HAVE BEEN HOME AND FREE FROM MY PRISON CELL. Being the Goddess of Ruin and coming back to destroy Olympus didn’t exactly go as planned. My father, Zeus, had tossed me out and erased the memories of all who knew me, and I had planned revenge for centuries. Sure, coming back and releasing the Titans wasn’t the best idea, but hey what’s a goddess to do? Trust me, if you felt that much hate, loss, and abandonment, you would do some crazy shit too. But alas, that is neither here nor there. I have done my time. A thousand years of it in the pits of Tartarus. Now I am home and slowly trying to make amends with the family I once lost. 

The Jeep bumps on the old hidden dirt road, shaking me from my thoughts. I am in a convoy with a driver and three other guys who all smell like sweat and the overuse of cheap cologne. They remind me of the bootleg version of old action heroes. One is tattooed, the other bearded, and the last looks like he has seen his fair share of the world. 

Trees snap and hit the side of the Jeep as we truck further away from civilizations and off the beaten path. They may try to hide their sudden fear, but you can practically feel it radiate from them. I have paid a pretty penny for these three knuckleheads to find the certain ruin I am looking for. 

Tons of places have been wiped off the mortal map, and with my latest attempt to overthrow Olympus, I have lost my touch with the mortal world, so to speak. The Jeep lurches forward once more and hits a deeper hole in the road, slinging mud along the side. We are deep in the forests of Honduras, Mexico. A recent Mayan ruin was discovered, and just as quickly covered up by the media. Which, to be honest, only perks my interest more. The locals call it maldito, which means cursed. The name alone means no mortal will set foot here. Another win for me, given I am immortal. 

The Jeep comes to a stop, the road we are on ending. The driver in front whistles, speaking in his native tongue. 

“This is as far as I go. I can wait until half-past dusk, but no longer. The woods surrounding this place--” 

“Cursed? Yeah, I got the gist,” I reply in the same language. 

He nods once before turning to the other three men. Their gazes meet mine, and I roll my eyes before hopping out. I wear cargo pants with a pair of thick black commando boots, a black tank top, and my hair pulled away from my face. When I first showed up asking for their assistance, they laughed, calling me a barbie with a mental illness for trying to go deep in the jungle dressed like this. I have no equipment, but little do they know I am Ruin personified. After flashing some major cash, they soon swallowed their remarks and led me here. Except now, they seem to be second-guessing their previous investment. 

The three men jump out, heading for the back of the Jeep. They throw a large green tarp over the side and pick up weapons. They load themselves down with a couple of backpacks and what looks like automatics and a machetes. They catch my expression, and one rolls his eyes as the other tries to hand me a knife. I shake my head, and the other two laugh. 

“Your funeral,” one remarks.

I cock an eyebrow. “And how so?” 

Another points to the endless line of jungle and back to me. “This place is full of jaguars and plenty of things that would eat a girl like you.” 

His comment gets a laugh and snicker from the others, even the driver, but if he is trying to throw a jab with an innuendo, he should probably try harder. After all, I am best friends with Eros, which makes his comment lackluster at best. 

I grin and lift one shoulder in a shrug, ready to get what I came for. “Shall we get moving?” 

The machetes come in handy for the mortals as they slice and dice their way through the overgrown bush. I guess I could just use my power to dematerialize and find it myself, but like I said, not too familiar with the area. What feels like hours later, we finally reach a clearing. Pushing more overgrown branches from my view, the old temple looms ahead. It has to be at least a couple hundred feet tall. The parts that can be seen are overgrown with vegetation trying to reclaim the area. I quicken my pace, eager to reach it, when a hand grabs my arm. I spin around, controlling my temper, so my eyes don’t flash and scare the mortals. 

“Are you crazy? It’s almost sundown. Hosta will leave us here if we don’t turn back,” one of the men said. 

Hosta? Oh, so that was the driver’s name. I am terrible at remembering mortals’ names. I shrug from his grip. 

“If you are scared. Go home. I came here for a reason. Besides, do you really want to turn back and let a girl go on when you were too afraid?” I jab. 

The three of them look at each other. They grumble and curse under their breaths before one of them nods and steps forward to lead the way.

“Crazy ass woman,” another mumbles. 

We trek onward, getting closer to the temple. I can see what looks like tape has been used to section parts of this place off. It seems they started, and something spooked them and made them quit. We stop at the base of the roughly hewn stone steps, looking up at the task before us. The sun is setting off in the distance, and the smell of fear is rising. Shuffling from behind me tells me they are looking through their backpacks. The encroaching gloom is pushed back as one by one they turn on flashlights. I feel the cold metal touch the side of my arm as one guy hands me a spare. I want to shake my head, saying I don’t need it since Tartarus itself is darker than this place, but I also need to keep up appearances. Smiling briefly, I take it as the bearded guy steps forward, trying to lead the way. 

We take the stone steps two at a time, overgrowth crunching beneath our boots. Darkness falls quickly, the stars above the only light besides the flashlights. We make it to the top, pausing to catch our breath before a huge stone door. Two of the men behind me start whispering to themselves, and it takes me a minute to catch what they are saying. I turn as the color drains from their face. 

“What are you two going on about?” I snap.

A tap on my shoulder has me turning back around as the bearded man, damn I really have to get better at names, shines his flashlight at the words carved above the door. I squint, deciphering the language. 

Damnati omnes qui ingrediuntur beati relinquunt

Damned are all who enter, blessed are those who leave.

Shrugging, I look at him. “Okay?” 

He seems to choke on his spit. “And? You know what that means?” 

The two men behind us continue to chant, but I wave my hand, ignoring them. “Yeah, it means I paid you, so let’s keep going.” 

He shakes his head at me, lowering his flashlight. “No, chica. The devil owns this place. We go no further.” 

Exasperated, I place my hands on my hips, sighing before tilting my head back then looking at him. “Seriously? A few words etched on an ancient building, and suddenly you are pissing your pants?”

He says nothing else, just steps back, staring at the door and its warning. I turn, ignoring them, and approach the door. I push against the weathered stone, expecting resistance with the edges calcified by time, but it moves like butter for me.  A hollow sound escapes as air held too long in the temple is released. The wail of high-pitched screams and feet descending stairs tell me my guides have left. Rolling my eyes, I toss the flashlight to the side. I don’t need it anymore. My vision is immaculate. Besides, the darkness doesn’t scare me. Being trapped in it for a thousand years and then screwing the one who controls it kind of makes you numb to the eerie chill the mortals experience. 

I step inside, taking a look around. Where the forest hadn’t tried to reclaim this temple, spider webs hung. I move my hands through most of it as I get further inside. Ancient battles are depicted on some of the stone walls as other parts look to be crumbling. Honestly, it is beautiful. I love ruins in every shape. Where others see horror or disgust, I see what once was. Ruins fill me with joy. I don’t know how else to explain it. They remind me of myself at times. Before I came home. They were once beautiful prestige. Then something happened, and they were left unattended. Abandoned, they survived every harsh obstacle thrown at them. Sure, they are chipped and dirty from it, but they remain, claiming their place in the world.

I gather my thoughts. I am here for a reason, and nostalgia isn't it. I turn a corner, heading deeper into the temple when suddenly the ground beneath me gives way. I don’t have much time to react as I fall a few hundred feet, hitting rock bottom. And I mean that literally. I look up, rubbing my already sore ass, and catch the sight of more debris heading my way. Dissipating into a black mist, I move out from beneath the falling rock and dirt, reforming on the other side of the room. Sure, it won’t kill me, but it would still hurt like shit. 

Once I am solid again, I take a look around the room, coughing up dust. Bingo. I have found what I came looking for. The room is an old, abandoned place of worship. Probably an ancient civilization lost once more. Statues, missing limbs and heads, line most of the space while a strange coffin rests in the middle. I walk closer to it, noticing how much it has aged. A side of it has been torn away like someone, or something, tried to get in. 

Hmm, strange. 

Upon further inspection, I notice the coffin has engravings on the side. Double bingo. Grabbing both sides, I yank upwards, ripping the lid straight off. I toss it to the side, swatting away the dust that follows. Peering over the edge, I see the skeletal remains of a man wearing an ancient crown. The inside of his coffin is lined with ancient jewels and cloths. My eyes flicker over them momentarily until I see what he is holding. Both of his skeletal hands are wrapped around a large weathered book. Reaching over, I grab it, breaking the bones that held it. 

Yahtzee. Clio is going to love this.

Paris, A few days later.

I shimmy to the music filling the kitchen as I make breakfast in my Paris apartment. Tiny wings flap over my head as my imp circles, copying my movements. I saved him from the King of Titans, who thought after he served him in his plans for freedom, he could just discard him. I held a special place in my cold heart for the little creature. He had no one, like I hadn’t.

“If you put your tiny clawed hands on that stove, and spill those eggs, you will not get any of them,” I call over my shoulder as I look through the spice rack. 

He mumbles under his breath and grins a wide, sharp-toothed smile as I turn and squint at him. Shaking my head, I finish cooking and we sit on the couch, watching the news. Normal reports of stupid crap mortals worry about fills the airwaves, but I am looking for something in particular. I split my bagel in half, offering a piece to Ebhot, who happily takes it and devours the whole thing. The next story to flash across the screen is the Grand Museum opening in Paris this evening. I smile as I continue to watch. They talk about Clio and how this is supposed to be an amazing elegant event. Celebrities are flying in for the show, along with elites from across the world. All are humming and buzzing about the artifacts that will be presented. Chloe Amors’ name appears at the bottom of the screen as they continue to discuss the details of the upcoming evening. 

It is funny to me, the alias she goes by. After all, she is married to the God of Love. She is Chloe Amor to the world, but to us immortals, she is Clio, the Muse of History. There is no point in time that she does not remember. Even the stories the mortals tried to hide or change. Speaking of which... 

I hop up from the sofa, sliding my plate over to Ebhot, giving him the rest of my breakfast. He happily devours it, making a mess that I will have to clean up later. I head to the kitchen looking for my phone. I find it on the counter next to the book I stole for Clio. I dial Clio’s number and as it rings, I think to myself, If I have enough time, maybe I can make her a cake as a happy opening day present. 

The sound of a high-pitched cry echoes from the receiver as she picks up. “Hello?”

I tilt my head away from the phone, grimacing at the shrill sound. One eye still closed, I respond, “Clio? Can you hear me? Is this a bad time?” 

I hear shuffling in the background before she answers, “Yes, Atë. I can hear you. What’s up?”

I pace the kitchen slowly as I glance at the book. “Oh, nothing really.” I pause. “The opening is still at eight tonight, correct?”

“Yes, it is. Thank you for reminding me,” she groans into the receiver. 

Lately, the little muse seems to have her hands full. I mean, I don’t blame her. She recently had twins, so it seems pretty normal for her to be so busy. Not that I can relate. I have no children and plan to keep it that way for the rest of my existence. 

“Reminding you?” I snort. “I was just watching them talk about your grand opening on the news, Mrs. Amor.”

The sound of a plate breaking in the living room cuts off her response. I shake my head at Ebhot. The little imp had dropped the plate, shattering it everywhere, and is now grinning at me like a scolded child. He squawks before flying into the kitchen and circling me overhead. 

I turn back to the phone in my hand. “You are still going, right?”

I pace, chewing on my thumbnail as I wait for her response. I eye the book and its old rustic leather binding nervously. If she doesn’t go, this will all have been a waste. 

“Yes, I am still going! I will ask Hedone to watch the twins.” 

Ahh Hedone. Their other daughter. Although I am still not too keen on the logistics, given my time away from Olympus and my later incarceration. I know that they have a daughter in her late teens. 

“Okay, good. I may or may not have gotten you something for your opening. I know you’ve been busy with family and I just...” 

I stop as Ebhot makes a weird face at me, confused. I wave a hand, shushing him. It isn’t like me to admit that I care about anything, but it is a new improvement. Well, I have tried to make it one. 

I hear her call out to her husband, and more shuffling and muffled voices before she returns to the phone. “Atë, you didn’t have to get me anything.” She pauses. “Wait. You didn’t steal this, did you?” 

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear as I play it cool. Well, I try. “Steal? What me? Define steal?” 

“Atë,” her voice warned. 

“Sorry, what was that?” I fake static over the phone. “I can’t hear you. You are breaking up.” 

She starts to comment, but I quickly hang up and turn to Ebhot. 

“Okay, eight o’clock she said, which means I have plenty of time to do one more thing. I am going to change clothes and run to the store.” I head for my room, and then stop, turning around. “That means no touching anything. Understood?” 

He bounces his little horned head up and down as I shake mine. With a deep sigh, I go to get ready. I have a few hours to kill and want to bake her something for the event. I mean, granted I stole a book, but this would make up for that, right? And yes, I know I am trying too hard. But you come back home, kidnap your best friend, cause a mass prison outbreak, and try to kill your father. Then tell me what you wouldn’t be willing to do to make amends to the ones that matter.

The shopping doesn’t take long. I already have the list of ingredients I need and just went by that. Also, I may or may not have cut in line to get back faster. I just don’t trust Ebhot alone that long, and entering the apartment, I remember why. 

The inside of my home looks like a tornado went through it. Broken glasses on the floor, torn paper everywhere, the TV louder than normal. Sighing, I drop the groceries on the nearby table and survey the mess. I start to clean it up when I stop, frozen in horror as I stare at the paper in my hands. Papers? Oh fuck. I run to the counter, looking for the book. Not finding it, I drop to the floor, frantically searching on my hands and knees. As I round the corner, I see it lying under the kitchen table. Picking it up, I stand, looking it over with care. Making sure my blasted imp has not destroyed the one relic I have for Clio’s museum tonight. I sigh in relief when the book appears to be intact and unharmed. 

“Ebhot!” I scream. 

I hear the clicking of tiny nails as his horned head pops out from behind the door. Another smile dances across his little face. 

“What did you do?” I ask through clenched teeth. 

He hops out of the room, rubbing his hands over each other nervously. “You left. Don’t know if you would come back. Got scared,” he speaks in the same broken English he always does. 

I pinch the bridge of my nose, controlling my growing temper. Okay, fair. The last time I had left the little dude, I ended up in Tartarus. So, he has a reason to have a little anxiety. 

“It’s fine,” I say, looking at him. “You didn’t touch this book though, did you?” 

He shakes his head from side to side. Nodding, I turn back to the mess and start to clean. What I thought would be a small endeavor turns out to take longer than expected. He made more of a mess than I previously thought. Once everything is back in order, I call him over to help me cook. He seems to be less stressed when he has something to do. So, like this morning, I turn on the music and get to work. 

The oven is preheating while I have Ebhot read off the ingredients and instructions to me. He sits on the counter with his tiny imp legs folded beneath him. It is almost cute how he flips the pages with his tail. He is helping, which means he isn’t being destructive. He calls off a few more things that I add to my mixing bowl as I hold it to my side, stirring the ingredients. The apron I wear, along with the rest of me, is covered in flour. Okay, and most of the kitchen. And counters.

 Hey, it’s not like I am the Goddess of Baking, okay? 

I spin in a slow circle, humming to myself as he drones on. Most of the ingredients I added fit, so I don’t know why he keeps murmuring. Although, half the time, I can’t differentiate between what is English or gibberish. I stop, facing him as I tilt my head. 

“What are you going on about? There is no way I need more ingredients. Give me that.” 

I place the bowl down, reaching for the cookbook. He gladly hands it over, smiling. 

Strange. Why is this page more worn than the others? This isn’t even French anymore. 

I squint, holding the book closer to my face as I read over the text. It really is strange. Given my immortality and stay among the mortals, I am fluent in all languages. I have learned it all. So why is this giving me such difficulty? Some of the words look like ancient Romanian, where others seem almost Sumerian with a dash of Latin mixed in. The text does seem familiar, like I have seen it before and recently. I mull over the words, whispering them out as I try to make sense of them. I stop mid-sentence, my eyes going wide as it hits me. I meet Ebhot’s gaze and he cowers from me, tucking himself between the toaster and the wall. I know where I have seen this text. Inside the fucking temple. That is the last thought I have before my kitchen erupts in fire. 

I am thrown back several feet by what feels like a small nuclear bomb. I sit up, rubbing the side of my head, a loud siren ringing through the entire apartment building. Opening my eyes, they adjust quickly to the new scene. But a couple of things stick out. One, my entire apartment is ruined and not in the fun, I just had crazy sex with my primordial boyfriend ruined. No, more that every surface is singed and currently aflame. Two, I am somewhat still on fire. Three, a giant horned man stands in the middle of my once gorgeous living room, with his arms outstretched, saying something. And four, I cannot hear what is being said given my newly developed tinnitus. I see Ebhot hiding behind the counter and wave for him to escape. He looks between me and the demon in the living room and flies out the front door. Good. One less thing to worry about. 

I rub my ears repeatedly as the sound starts to come back to my ruptured eardrums. I pick up his voice at the very end.

“....not been listening to a thing I said?” 

I prop myself up on my elbows. “Oh, I am sorry. My eardrums ruptured from whatever the fuck you just did entering my kitchen.” 

The horns protruding from his skull slowly make their way back into his head as he walks forward, adjusting a suit that seems to appear out of nowhere. Okay, that was a cute party trick. He stops in front of me, picking me up by my arms, which is his first mistake. 

I. Do. Not. Like. To. Be. Touched. 

Blame it on my own special brand of PTSD from being tossed off Olympus against my wishes. My expression must change because his red eyes suddenly glisten with excitement. 

“Oh,” his deep throaty voice echoes, “you are not human.” 

“No, I am not.” I shrug out of his grip. “Now, if you could explain to me how the fuck you got into my kitchen, I would appreciate it.” 

He tilts his head back and releases a deep laugh before spinning around the room again. What the fuck is up with the theatrics? 

“I am Chareth, and you, goddess, have summoned me,” he responds. 

I think he wants to sound intimidating, but the moment the dramatic proclamation leaves his lips, the sprinklers go off. I stand there, my arms crossed as the water extinguishes the flames still clinging to me and those licking at the living room furniture. He stares at me as steam billows and rolls off of him.  

I raise a single finger, pointing at him and his smoke show. “Oh, so you’re like Hephaestus?” 

His nose curls for a second. “Who?” 

Shrugging, I respond, “You know the God of Fire? Forges all cool Olympian weapons?” 

I immediately regret my words. His eyes take on a different shine as his original scaly form returns. I guess he is over the small talk. 

“Olympian, you say? The Old Gods?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s watch it on the old part, okay?” I say, holding my hands up. 

“Summoned by an Olympian Goddess? You will be my ticket to every layer of Hell.” He smiles, his teeth suddenly overgrown. 

I take a small step back as the water from the sprinklers cuts off. “I will be your ticket to nothing. I think you need to crawl back into whatever hole you escaped from.” 

He steps forward, not caring about my messy threat. “Here I thought I could plague the earth like the olden days, but you have given me so much more purpose, a beautiful one. I will make a queen of you!” He reaches out, grabbing my arms again and pulling me to him. 

Okay, that’s it. Now I’m pissed. 

His eyes widen and I see the reflection of my amber gaze in his as I let loose my power. The room shakes violently, distracting him as I use that leverage to headbutt him. He flies back, hitting the wall, and leaving a massive hole in it. Great, more damage. The floor still shakes as he levitates to his feet. What I thought was shock turns into maniacal laughter. 

“Oh, I am so going to keep you.” 

I lift my hands to slam them together and crush him in this building. I stop. No. This isn’t me anymore. I’d destroy this building, killing the innocent lives below me, and my family would regard me all the same. As Atë the Bringer of Ruin. Guess I can do this the old-fashioned way. Now, don’t get me wrong, I am no Goddess of War, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to fight. 

“You want me? Come and get me,” I taunt. 

He takes my invitation without hesitation and charges me. I anticipate his move, dissipating into a shard of black mist and reappearing behind him. I kick the back of his knees, sending him flying headfirst into the cabinets below. He roars as his anger grows, using the horns on his head to rip his way free. He turns to me, smoke flowing from his nostrils, looking every bit demonic and pissed. 

I shrug and grin at him. “What? I never said I would play fair.” 

He shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. But if you won’t, neither will I.” 

He rubs his hands together, creating a fine orange glow that slowly builds in intensity. I have a moment to register that he just summoned a fireball before he throws it at me. The core of it hits my abdomen, sending me sailing backward. I land with a thud in the hallway outside my apartment as people to my right scream and run towards the exit. I nod, thinking that is probably a smart thing to do as I sit up, patting at the flames singing what is left of my clothes. 

Heavy footsteps echo, drawing my gaze upwards. He towers over me with hungry, blood-red eyes. 

“You will be my queen. Either willingly or by force. Your choice.” 

“Hold that thought,” I say, winking at the demon, and vanish into a cloud of black smoke.

I form outside the home of the one person I know has a chance of getting rid of whoever the fuck he said his name was. My sister, the Witch Queen herself, Hekate. My bare feet tap on the concrete stairs as I reach the door and raise my hand to knock. I pause, knowing Hekate may not be inclined to help me. Given the whole releasing the Titans thing that may or may not have caused damage to not only her place and her people, but also herself. My clothes still smoke in some places as I absently slap the lingering flames to ash, thinking I should probably just leave. But I stop myself. I have been trying, in my own way, to regain the sister I once lost. I just still have a hard time letting anyone completely in. Sighing, I raise my hand again and knock. Loudly. 

A voice rings out from inside without the door being opened, “No, Atë.”

I place my hands on my hips and tap my foot before I yell, “Oh, come on, Hekate! Let me in! Unless you want me just to stand out here yelling in front of all the mortals?”

The air shifts as she materializes behind me. I turn, smiling as innocently as I can. She folds her arms, not buying it for a second. “I said no.” 

“But. You didn’t even hear the question.” 

One dark eyebrow arches, regarding me as she takes in my appearance. I’m sure my singed clothing does not help. “From what I can see, it looks like a pretty normal day for you.” She pauses. “Then again, you don’t usually willingly come to me for anything. Which means this has to be good.”

She waits for my rebuttal, staring intently at me. It is unnerving how well she knows me. She hit the nail on the head with her words.

Sighing, I say, “Okay, very valid points, I’ll give you that, but I need your help.” I stop, taking a deep breath, and forcing the words out through gritted teeth. “You’re the only one that can help me at this point.”

Hekate throws up her hands and rolls her eyes. “Oh, fuck. There goes the world. What did you do?” She demands, meeting my gaze, her voice turning stern.

I look down, fiddling with my hands for a second. “I may or may not have accidentally summoned a demon.”

Hekate pauses, her eyes narrowing. “Say that again?”

“And by demon, I mean actual demon. He said something about making me his queen, but I honestly didn’t get a lot before he firebombed the kitchen when I said no...you know, with my fist.”

“Goddammit, Atë!” She pushes past me and through the front door, moving fast. The doors burst forward from her speed, and I roll my eyes following behind her. I mean, really, why was she mad? I would have to cover up the inferno of the damned apartment. Plus, I don’t even know if the clothes I have are ruined. 

“What?” I ask as I close the door behind us. 

The inside of Hekate’s apartment isn’t what I expect for the Witch Queen. What I expect to be shades of dark were more creams, whites, and purples. A few white chairs sit to the side, and a large set of drawers are against the wall. A hallway leads off to a different room, but she doesn’t head that way. She stops by a nearby bookshelf, grabbing a few items, and then moves to the dresser and opens it. She pulls out a satchel and starts tossing things in. From here, I can make out some of the contents which range from salt, weird looking water, and various herbs. 

She whirls on me, pointing a stern finger. “First of all, you can’t accidentally summon a demon which means you did something on purpose. Stupidly. Second of all, doing so is no laughing matter.” 

Rolling my eyes, I place my hands on my hips as I stare at her frantic movements. “Technically, I didn’t know I was summoning anything. I was actually trying to bake a cake when Ebhot kept giving me directions and herbs. He just got this stupid book I stole mixed up with my cookbook.” 

I honestly think Hekate stops breathing for a moment.

“For fuck’s sake! You really are an idiot! How could you possibly not recognize the difference between Betty Crocker and Beelzebub? Brown sugar and brimstone?”

I scratch the side of my head. “I don’t think he said that was his name. Oh wait, you are being facetious.” I shake my head. “Listen, I just wanted to make Clio a congratulations-on-the-new-museum cake.” 

Sighing, she closes up the satchel with ingredients before continuing, “I gotta think.” 

She moves past me, heading for a small bar towards the entrance, and pours herself a drink. She takes a second glass and waves me over, and I gladly comply. We both stand silently for a moment, drinking as she contemplates my recent endeavor. I would be lying if I said I don’t feel a semblance of guilt for dragging her into this with me.

“Listen,” she finally says, the bottle near empty, “he’s a demon that you called forth from a text used to summon him. Governed by the laws of nature, that is a contract of sorts.”

I shoot the last of my drink back with a grimace. “Wait...there is a contract?” 

She looks at me puzzled for a second. “You summoned a demon, Atë.”

“I didn’t mean to!” I lean forward, lightly touching her arm. “I mean, there has to be a get out of Hell free clause?” 

“Contracts are contracts, and infernal contracts are especially infuriating. You can’t tear them up. You can only…” She pauses, eyes flashing. Whatever she is considering is good, but it isn’t going to be easy. She is having to think too long about it. “You remember how mortals went through a frenzy back in the latter part of the last century about playing records backward and hearing demonic messages and shit?”

I nod, waving my hand in a go on gesture. “Yeah. Their weird obsession with subliminal messages? What about it?” 

“Well, it’s a bunch of nonsense. Except You-Know-Who downstairs decided he liked the idea and started using that as his escape hatch. One of those things where it wasn’t real to start with, but then it became an urban legend, and now it’s a real thing.”

My mind mulls over the information she is giving me until a lightbulb clicks in my head. 

“Saying something backward, hmm? Like, say a certain contract I may have spoken?”

She grins at me. “Precisely. The reason it works so well is that it’s in movies and such, so no one thinks it actually works. But it does. Reading backward is a bitch and a half, though. And if you get one thing wrong, you have to start over.” She thinks for a minute. “Probably another reason people think it doesn’t work.”

I reach over to pour the last of the bottle for us before downing it and slamming my glass down. 

“Hekate, I am going to say this once and only once. You may be the smartest witch I know….Actually...Yeah, no, you are.” 

She grins at me. “No, if I was smart, I’d tell you to deal with it your own damn self and leave me, quite literally, the hell out of it.”

I hop to my feet, a new plan formulating in my mind. Hekate doesn’t even realize what she did, but she just gave me a perfect get out of Hell free clause. I move faster than she can catch and I place a kiss on the top of her head. I hop back and smile at her shocked expression before heading for the door. 

“Atë, where the fuck are you going?” I hear her call as I rush out the door.

I don’t respond as the door slams behind me. My form dissipates and I jet through the sky, back towards my apartment. Hekate gave me enough ammunition to send this demon back to Hell, and I don’t need any potion, herb, or magic water. Oh no. I may have summoned this hell beast, but he is about to learn it was a big mistake on his part. I may be the Goddess of Ruin, but I am the Goddess of Mischief too, and he is about to learn that the hard way.

I form in the hallway of my apartment after sneaking past all the firefighters and police officers downstairs. It seems my little blowout shook the very foundation of the building. 

I make my way to the spot where my door used to be, glass shards crunching under my feet. I peek in and I am shocked to see not only the demon I summoned but what looks like a group of his friends. Multiple heads turn in my direction as I enter with a sheepish grin on my face. 

The apartment is still a mess, but no longer on fire. All the furniture and appliances are charred, soggy lumps. I swallow as I look around the room. Chareth is the only one that even resembles some sort of human. The other four beings remind me of something out of a mortal horror movie. Their blackened skin seems to drip hot sulfur and they stand straight up with no hint of a slouch. Like oozing toy soldiers. 

Chareth leans over the counter, a large devilish smile greeting my return. 

“Ahh there she is. I knew you would be back.” 

I stop a few feet away, not getting to close. I am not here for a fight. No, not this time. 

“What can I say? I had time to think and reflect. I mean, we can talk this out, can’t we? Like we both know this is a mishap...a mistake. Like I make a cake, and you get summoned from Hell.” 

He chuckles to himself, rising once more. “Oh, goddess, you are funny. I like funny.” 

“I can see that. So, what’s with the entourage?” I ask, gesturing to the inky creatures with him. 

He turns his head slightly before meeting my gaze. “Oh, these guys? Well, they are my...what would you call them? Leverage.” 

I scoff, “Leverage? You’re telling me the all-powerful demon I summoned needs leverage?” 

His smile is cold and full of an emotion I don’t want to decipher. “Oh, sweetie, they are not for me. No, they are here because of you.” 

“Me?” I ask, a little surprised. 

“Yes.” He stops, straightening to his full height as he tries to round the counter. I instinctively move, keeping that space between us. He notices, and it only makes him chuckle more. 

“Yes, you. See, while you were away, I did a bit of research. You are Atë. Goddess of Ruin. Firstborn of Zeus. Chaos born. And you know what that means?” 

“No,” I snap the words out, trying to maintain my cool. 

“The price for you just went up.” He winks. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” 

“Do you have any idea how fast they will follow me with you as my queen? There will be no world or dimension we cannot have.” 

“So that’s what this is now? A popularity contest?” 

“Oh no. It’s so much more than that,” He says as we continue to dance slowly around the kitchen island. “Think about it. You will have a place to rule. They don’t appreciate you here. They never have. We have been here for what? Hours? And I haven’t even heard the phone ring.”

I would be lying if I said his words did not hit a small nerve. After Tartarus and what I had done, I am insecure, to say the least, about my family. I know it sounds stupid, but that dark empty pit I feel in my chest never really goes away. I know I can survive alone. Shit, I have been alone most of my mortal life, but it still stings.  

“So that’s it? I either say yes or what?” I remark, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

His smile drops. “Here is how this is going to work. You either come to Hell to be my queen, or I open a Hellgate and suck this miserable world and all its occupants into it.”

I stop myself from rolling my eyes at his attempt at a threat. I mean, I guess if he had come to me sooner with this whole end the world scenario, I might have been all for it. But dammit, I am a recently reformed bad guy. 

For my plan to work, I will need to play along. I move closer to him, walking to the opposite side of the burned kitchen. I tilt my head like I am weighing the options as I slide a single finger across the blackened countertop. While I portray this false image, I scan for the page I used to summon him. I figure Hell demon books are flame resistant. As I get closer, I see what looks like the remains behind him. 

Okay, time for Plan B.

Sighing, I stop and shrug my shoulders in false defeat. “Okay. I mean, you drive a hard bargain, but Ruler of Hell seems like a pretty cool gig compared to what I am doing.” 

His eyes roam over me as if he just won a brand new car. It makes me feel sick. He moves closer to me, but I don’t walk the opposite way this time. If I want to sell this and send him back to Hell, I need to play along. He reaches me, and it takes all I have not to curl my lip at the smell of sulfur wafting off of him. 

Is that what demons smell like when they get excited? 

He reaches for my face, cupping it with his newly clawed hands, and draws my lips to his. I have to commend myself on the insane willpower it takes not to barf in his face. He tastes like stone, metal, and ash. I pull away as he turns and throws one arm to the center of the living room. A bright orange ring forms and then an inferno bursts through the portal. 

He looks at me, no longer hiding the creature he is. “Now, we leave.” 

“Wait!” I cry, louder than I mean to. I place a hand on the middle of his chest, trying to keep up my ruse. 

He watches me, slightly annoyed at first, but I know if I want this to work, I need him on this plane. I shake my head as seductively as I can and gaze up at him. 

“I want my immortal ceremony to be on earth. Besides, you already brought guests, and like you said, no one is coming to check on me. So why not here?” 

What I can only assume is an eyebrow, given he looks like a horned rock creature, raises as he asks, “Here?” 

He stops, looking around in disdain at the blackened apartment, and the fire pit still circling in the middle of the living room. I follow his gaze, shrugging my shoulders. 

“Why not? You are this badass demon. Can’t you fix this with a wave of your hand?” 

Come on, Atë. You can do better than that.

His face doesn’t change much, as if my offer is the last thing his rock brain would ever consider. Fuck. Okay, plan C. He may be a demon from Hell and made of rock, but he is still male. Sort of. 

I clear my throat, standing on my tiptoes so I am close to whatever the fuck he has that resembles an ear. “Besides, I like to be wine, dined, and sixty-nined.” 

He pulls back, and the spinning fire ring of death in the living room disappears. I give him a seductive smile and head to my room, so glad that worked and I can move away from him. Pretending to pick up some of the mess, I grab the page from the book. I turn back, playing it off like I wasn’t looking for that all along, and wave my hand at him. 

“There, I cleaned up some, now hurry up. I am going to get ready. Don’t keep your queen waiting.” I smirk. 

I don’t wait for a response as I slip into the bedroom, shutting the door behind me. I lean against the wood, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, and clutch the papers to my chest. I look down, unfolding the piece, and nearly scream to see it is the one I need. Hope to Hekate this fucking works. I open my closet to get ready for a living room wedding from literal Hell.

I tuck the last piece of hair into my messy top bun. I’d finished my makeup, going for my usual sultry look with red lips. I figure if my plan works, at least I will be ready for Clio’s big night. I look in the mirror and smooth my hands over the short, strapless, black cocktail dress that lands just past mid-thigh. The long black feathered train that dances around me as I walk, a playful twist. It is perfect. I picked it out weeks ago and am excited to wear it out. I am just worried I won’t get a chance. I really do get myself in the most trouble. 

I turn from my reflection, grabbing the page I had prepared. I close the door behind me, face the room, and almost gasp. It is different from what it was five minutes ago. Actually, it is completely different. Strands of red lights hang from my ceiling, the ends gathered into a chandelier over the table in what used to be the living room. I feel like I stepped into an upscale New York restaurant instead of my Paris residence. The inky creatures wear butler attire as they stand close to my future, not husband. I guess he decided to put the horns away for dinner as he is wearing a red-as-sin suit. He leans back casually in his chair, one hand resting on his chin and the other tapping the table impatiently. He isn’t terrible to look at in his human form, but alas, my heart belongs to the Primordial God of Darkness, and I am no longer evil. We have no chance. 

He stands as I enter, smoothing the front of his suit, his eyes raking over me possessively. “You look--”

I raise my hand, cutting him off. “Gorgeous. I know.”  

I look around the apartment with its new decorations and say, “You did well.” 

He chuckles to himself and pulls my chair out for me. I make my way over and sit down. He retakes his seat, looking from the room and then back to me. 

“Well, you did say wine, dine, and what was that last part again?” 

I plaster a smile on my face as his inky buddies put plates of food in front of us, along with a wine I had been saving, and two glasses. I steal the wine, pouring my own and offering it back with a forced smile. I don’t even want to know what they prepared, given they keep leaking all over. I place the folded paper on the table, sliding it towards him. His eyes dart from it, to me, and back again. 

“What’s this?” he asks, meeting my gaze. 

I clear my throat, leaning forward on the table. “I have a few rules, too. If you really want this whole Queen of Hell thing to work.”

Scoffing, he shakes his head. “Rules?” 

“Just read them over.” 

I can tell he is mulling over the options, and given as he has already won, I am hoping he will take the bait. His eyes bore into mine for a solid minute before he shrugs and lifts the paper. He looks to be scanning it, but I want him to read it out loud. I need to make sure it works. 

Clearing my throat, I get his attention. “Speak up, please. I can’t hear you, dear.” 

He arches a brow at me and I ask, “You sure you want to be attached to me for eternity?”

“Very well.” He focuses on the page, drawing it closer as he reads, “I, Atë, promise to be your devoted consort for eternity to come, only if you agree to the following demands.” He stops for a moment, looking at me before proceeding, “One: Promise to not hurt my family when we leave this plane.” He nods, agreeing to that one. “Two: If you take me to a Hell dimension that smells of pig shit, this deal is off. Been there, done that.” His lips quirk. “Three: I request to come back every few hundred years to check up on the latest fashion trends. Four: I would like my own personal castle on the days you annoy me and I want peace.” He scoffs. “Five: I think minions who only answer to my beck and call would be a great idea and Six...” 

His voice changes as he reads the same language I had hours earlier. I had written the page used to summon him, hoping that Hekate was right and that it would send him back. My hopes die in my chest after he finishes reading it, and his eyes meet mine. A red ring appears around his irises as he finishes the last words, the recognition clicking.  

“You bitch!” he roars as horns spring from his head. But it is too late. 

The page he holds goes up in flames and his hands and arms follow. He stands from the table, almost knocking it over as the fire spreads. I sit where I am, unbothered as a slow sadistic smile lights my face. The inky black creatures he came with echo his hollow scream. He moves from side to side, trying to extinguish the flames as he curses me in every language. 

I take a sip of the wine and sit back, watching the light show. “Oh, you probably should’ve remembered in your little history lesson about me. I am the Goddess of Mischief, too.” 

I smile behind my glass as he stops, still engulfed in flames, and lets out a roar of rage. The floor erupts and sucks in him and his minions. The portal closes, and the room goes dead silent. I sigh, leaning back in my chair as I finally relax, my nerves not on edge for the first time in the last eight hours. I need to thank Hekate.

My peace is interrupted when my newly repaired-by-a-demon door bursts open, sending shards flying everywhere. 

“What the fuck!” I yell, turning to see Erebus. 

The Primordial God of Darkness stands in my ruined front door with Ebhot hiding behind his feet. We coordinated our clothing for Clio’s event, and he is wearing an all-black suit. He looks like he is ready to rip the heads off of anything moving, which always makes him a little bit hotter in my eyes. 

“Ebhot said you were in trouble,” he snaps before looking at me, then the room and back at the imp. “I can see he was wrong.”

“Yeah, I took care of that a few minutes ago.” 

He comes to my side, grabbing my arms and looking me over. He is the only living creature I will let touch me and not immediately try to rip to pieces. He runs his hands over me, making sure I’m not broken, but I feel like it is more to make me laugh. And I do, playfully swatting his hands away.  

“Okay, okay, I’m fine.” I smile, brushing a piece of hair from my face. 

He leans down to kiss me before pulling back and making a face. “What have you been eating?” 

My eyes widen for a split second before I change the subject. “Uhhhhhh, we should head out to Clio’s event. Don’t want to be late.”

He gives me an odd look but shrugs, turning and grabbing the cursed book from the counter. “Hey, we can’t leave your book.” 

“Burn it!” I yell at him as I all but scurry to the door. Ebhot squawks as he flies out first, I grab my small clutch purse and follow.