After walking down at least five stories, deep enough to bypass all the sewage and electric lines, Selene watched Dash squeeze through the mouth of a roughly hewn tunnel stretching westward. The tightly enclosed space made her sweat. She tried to calm herself by thinking about the fresh air above. They must be passing underneath City Hall Park, right by the Mayor’s Office and the Tweed Courthouse. The tunnel continued for probably three hundred feet before ending at a small door. Dash pushed it open and Selene crowded beside him into the tiny room on the other side. Another heavy door on the far side remained closed. “This is like an airlock,” Selene said, her claustrophobia growing.
“That’s exactly what it was,” Dash nodded, rapping four times on the door. “Pneumatic subways don’t work if you let the air out.”
“You mean the experimental subway from the 1870s? The one with the fancy waiting room? It only operated for a few weeks, then I thought the city destroyed it.”
“Mm-hm. But urban legend collectors have been looking for it for decades.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Maybe some even found it. But anyone who manages to enter the realm of the dead, as you know, never returns to tell the tale.” He waited just long enough for Selene to start worrying that he was telling the truth. “Kidding! Uncle Aiden’s a pussycat.” He pecked her on the cheek and turned to leave.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“You didn’t think I was going in with you, did you? I’m the Psychopompos. The Conductor of Souls, not their babysitter. Have fun accusing the most fearsome son of Kronos and his wife of leading a homicidal Mystery Cult. I’ll be back to pick you up when you’re done, but I try to keep my visits to the Underworld to a minimum. Safer that way.”
“What?”
“Come on. Big strong goddess like you.” He winked. “You’ll be fine.” But despite his cavalier attitude, Dash left with all the speed his name implied.
Before Selene could go after him, the heavy door before her swung open. Selene shifted her backpack so she could reach her bow more easily. She was prepared for a three-headed guard dog or perhaps a cadaverous boatman. Instead, a middle-aged woman stood in the doorway, squinting suspiciously.
Selene suppressed a gasp of dismay. She should’ve remembered that, like Leto, Persephone would fade faster than one of the Twelve. Still, the transformation was shocking. Demeter’s beloved only child had once had hair as yellow as wheat sheaves, dewy skin, and a body so irresistibly nubile that Hades himself had emerged from the Underworld to steal her away. Now, Cora’s hair was brittle, her lusterless eyes sunken, and the flesh hung slack from her arms. She wore a pink chiton richly embroidered with flowers. It couldn’t have been cheap, but it looked tawdry compared to the simple linen she’d worn in her prime.
“Cousin, it’s me…” Selene ventured. “The Huntress.”
Cora’s eyes lit up. “Oh yes, we’ve been expecting you!” She called back over her shoulder, “Dearest! Aiden! The party’s starting!”
Cora opened the door wider. Selene hesitated a bit. What party? she wondered. What am I getting myself into? She followed Cora into a long, vaulted chamber. Ornate gas brackets cast the room in a warm glow that reminded Selene how much better everything had looked before the advent of electricity. The floor gleamed with alternating black and white wooden planks, covered here and there by oilcloths of mauve Victorian bouquets. In the center of the chamber, a fountain jetted water in a tinkling arc. “As Time Goes By” echoed through the room from a baby grand in the corner, its keys flashing beneath invisible fingers.
“Do you like our ghost?” Cora asked as they passed the piano. “He’s very good, isn’t he?”
Selene murmured a noncommittal assent, her skin prickling. Then she noticed the power cord running out of the back of the instrument. A player piano, that was all. But Cora didn’t seem to be joking. How far gone was she?
Cora prattled on. “I’ve been getting ready for the party, although good fruit this time of year is hard to find. You know, I’d heard you were living in the city these past few hundred years, but I guess, well… we just don’t run in the same circles. In fact,” she added with a saccharine smile, “last time we met, you were trampling a field of flowers with your rowdy band of nymphs and dogs. Or was it dogs and nymphs? With your followers, it was always so hard to tell.”
Before Selene could retort, Cora continued her onslaught. “I’ll have to lend you something to wear, of course. That leather jacket and those baggy pants will never do. You’ll look much better in yellow anyway.” Selene bit back a snort of disgust.
“No, no, it’s no bother. We have plenty to spare. We’ve done very well for ourselves, as you can see. Isn’t it beautiful?” She swept an arm across the lavish room. “Aiden lets me do all the decorating, of course.” Of course, thought Selene. “Do you like the flowers?” Cora went on. “I thought they’d be a nice touch for the Great Gathering.” She stopped to primp one of the many wilting pink bouquets tumbling from every surface. Selene breathed shallowly, trying not to gag at the smell of rot.
Cora opened a narrow, iron-studded door at the far end of the waiting room and led Selene into a stone-walled chamber. No pink or mauve here. Only black and gray—colors of the eternal night. A fire burned in a soot-stained hearth by the door, casting flickering shadows across the walls and floor and making the room uncomfortably warm. Despite the medieval décor, a modern sprinkler system peeked from the ceiling, and computer monitors covered the walls, each displaying jagged colored lines of oil prices and stock indices. Behind a vast desk, the Receiver of Many sat in a throne-like leather armchair. Even seated, he loomed over the room, impossibly tall. In the firelight, the pinstripes on his black suit glinted like shards of dark purple amethyst. Beneath his long black hair, his face looked as pale and gaunt as a cadaver’s, but his skeletal appearance didn’t mean he had lost his powers—as the Lord of the Dead, he’d always resembled his charges. In fact, he displayed none of his wife’s frailty. Mankind’s worship of money had only increased over the centuries, and he had clearly benefited in his other role as the God of Wealth.
Selene scanned the rest of the room, looking for danger. No swords, guns, or bows, but in a large glass case lay a dark Greek helmet with long nose and cheek guards. Hades’s Helm of Invisibility, she remembered, forged by the Cyclops for the war against the Titans. Probably doesn’t work anymore. Either way, as long as it stayed safely in its case, it shouldn’t be a problem. Of more concern was the seven-foot-long wooden staff mounted beside it. On top of the staff perched the bronze figurine of a bird. Hades’ scepter had always served more as a symbol of his dominion than as a useful weapon, but that didn’t mean the bird’s wickedly sharp beak couldn’t draw blood.
“See who’s come, my love!” crowed Cora, sitting on the corner of the desk and gesturing Selene to a narrow wooden chair beside the fireplace. “I’m sorry our first guest couldn’t be someone more fun,” she whispered loudly in Aiden’s ear. She pecked him on the cheek. At some point, Selene thought, I’ll have to figure out when she got so nice to him. Last thing I knew, she was his eternally miserable sex slave.
“Offer our guest some refreshment, my love,” he said, stroking her hand with one long bony finger.
“Oh! How could I have forgotten?” Cora moved to a credenza against the wall and lifted a platter of overripe pears and browning apples toward Selene.
“No, thank you. I just ate.” Selene perched on the front of the chair, ready to flee if necessary.
Cora frowned. “But you must!”
“No really, you know I prefer meat.” I also prefer not getting trapped in the Underworld by eating the food of the dead.
“What kind of party will it be if you don’t eat something?”
“I’m not here for the… party.”
Cora’s face fell. Aiden just sounded angry. “Then why are you here, Huntress?”
No use dancing around the point. The Lord of the Dead wasn’t known for his patience.
“Because someone’s brought back the Eleusinian Mysteries and is sacrificing innocent women—those I’m sworn to protect—as part of the rites. The hierophant leading the cult is no mere mortal—he’s an Athanatos of significant strength.” Selene fixed her uncle with an accusatory gaze. “Is it you, Hidden One? Have you revived the Mysteries in the hopes of bringing back Cora’s youth and beauty?”
Cora gasped indignantly, her hand reaching for the drooping flesh of her neck.
“How dare you,” Aiden seethed. “My beloved is young and beautiful until the end of time!” Selene could swear she saw a glint of red sparks within the black depths of his eyes.
She tensed, ready for a fight. “Perhaps love has blinded—” she began. But she instantly regretted her candor when her uncle rose from his desk, his hands clenching into fists.
Cora moved to stand behind her husband, clutching his wide shoulders like a shield. “Why’s she being so mean?”
“I just want to know if you’re involved in the murders,” Selene said carefully. She eased her hand into the backpack at her feet, feeling for an arrow.
Aiden raised a long arm to silence her. “You dare insult my wife,” he said with quiet intensity. “You dare accuse us of participating in forbidden rites.” His voice grew louder. “Such impertinence!” He pounded the desk before him. “Why would I bother seeking strength that way? Power approaches my very doorstep all on its own!”
Selene kept her voice calm, but her fingers closed around an arrow shaft. “So you’re not using the rites to—”
“I don’t have time for this!” Cora huffed, suddenly more annoyed than offended. “There’s so much to do for the party and here comes the Huntress with her terrible clothes and her worse manners, talking about things she knows nothing about. The Eleusinian Mysteries reversing millennia of decline! Hah! It doesn’t work that way. The Mysteries didn’t have that sort of power, not since the ritual changed.”
“What do you mean, changed?” asked Selene.
“I don’t remember exactly,” Cora said with an impatient pout. She emerged from behind her husband. Aiden patted her hand and slowly lowered himself back into his chair. It seemed as long as Cora was happy, her husband’s temper remained in check. Selene released the arrow in her bag and made a mental note to play nice with her cousin.
Cora moved to the credenza and plucked a few slices of fruit from the tray. “You know how those old memories are,” she insisted, popping a withered piece of apple into her mouth. “No one ever wrote down the original rituals. No one even talked about them. So all I have now are vague, hazy images. Grain. A crown.”
“Then maybe they did once involve human sacrifice. Maybe that’s what originally gave them power.”
“Oh no, no. How gory! We’d never condone it. I may have forgotten the details of the cult, but I’d remember if we received offerings of human flesh. Maybe your hierophant’s just killing women because he doesn’t like them. Or to get back at humanity for abandoning us. I can see the temptation—mortals are such ungrateful little mammals. But their deaths can’t be adding to the power of the ritual—certainly not.”
Selene felt a weight lift from her shoulders. If the original Eleusis cult hadn’t included murder, then hopefully she was right that the killings themselves had nothing to do with her own strengthening. She must be gaining power from some other aspect of the ritual. But if the Goddess of Eleusis herself didn’t know what gave the rites their power, who would?
“So you’re not involved, but have you been talking to anyone about the Mysteries? Helping them re-create the rites? What about your mother?”
“She hasn’t mentioned anything to me. And she would if she knew anything, because she writes me letters all the time. As if forcing me to live with her for nine months of the year on her filthy Peruvian farm weren’t bad enough,” she said with a sniff. “I’m old enough to live my own life with my husband, but a deal’s a deal, you know.” She lifted a mushy hunk of pear to Aiden’s lips and he slurped it from her fingers. Cora used her sleeve to tenderly wipe the juice from his dark beard.
“The gods’ memories are long,” Selene said, her expression carefully neutral. She was determined not to get involved in a squabble between Persephone and Demeter that had clearly persisted for centuries.
“But even gods can change,” Aiden said softly, his eyes fixed on his wife.
Cora rested her lips against his forehead. “Even gods can learn.”
Right. You learned how to be a pampered housewife with no self-respect, Selene thought, repressing a grimace. “If it’s not your mother, who else could be doing this?”
“The Sky God always envied our Mysteries, but of course, he’s probably still in his cave,” Cora mused. “The God of War’s still floating around somewhere, running a mercenary army in Africa, I think, but I doubt he’s bright enough to come up with a new cult for himself. Of course, the Smith’s awfully clever, but he’s not really the murdering type, now is he? I would say Asclepius, since he’s got a connection to our cult, but the poor man died long ago. Then again,” Cora considered, “the Wine Giver is really your best bet. When he joined the Mystery, it changed. He siphoned off some of the worship and offerings for himself. We haven’t seen him in centuries, but I wouldn’t put it past him to bring back our cult and keep it all to himself. He was always jealous of Mother and me.”
“An Athanatos can change a cult?” Selene asked eagerly. “Take it for himself?”
“The Wine Giver did. He told his own story alongside ours, then added his own attributes to the ritual. You’d have to ask him the details.” Cora turned to Aiden. “Speaking of wine, my love, did you put in that order for the Dom Pérignon?”
“You know I prefer something darker. Champagne’s a little… bubbly… for my taste.”
Cora slapped him playfully on the arm. “Oh, you. Bubbly is exactly right! Just like me! And you love me, don’t you?”
As the couple jabbered on, Selene began to form an idea: If Dionysus had taken the cult once before, perhaps Selene could seize it now. Not for herself, but for Leto. She could create a new ritual with Leto’s attributes, remove the gratuitous human sacrifice, and maybe… just maybe… bring her mother a little more strength.
“Ooh!” Cora exclaimed, interrupting Selene’s musing. “I’ve got it! Maybe the hierophant is your twin! Asclepius was his son, after all, and the Bright One was always poking around Eleusis, trying to figure out what we were doing. Oh, I do hope it’s him!” Cora clapped her hands with delight. “If he’s so worried about bringing back his powers, then he must already be fading! How wonderful!”
It’s true, Selene realized with a shiver. Paul was the perfect suspect. He still retained much of his own strength, but at the hospital, he’d made his terror of death clear. He’d flatly refused to succumb to the fading. Also, he already had a ready-made cult of thanatoi musicians following his every move. Most telling, he was the only god who might care enough about Selene to include her in the ritual. And he said he’d do anything to help Leto—maybe this was his attempt. But kill innocent women? He must know Mother would never allow that—not even to save herself.
Cora turned to Aiden. “Do you hear, dearest? The God of Music will be here soon! And to think, I was so worked up about having enough entertainment.”
“Whoever the hierophant is,” Selene said, “whether the Bright One or the Wine Giver or some other deluded relative of ours, he must be stopped. He’s turning my city into a charnel house.”
Cora giggled suddenly. “You were always so funny. A charnel house. So doom and gloom. I mean it’s in very bad taste, of course, but a few dead mortals… what’s the difference? They all die anyway.”
“These are innocent women. They’re under my protection. I will stop the hierophant—whatever it takes.” There was work to do. Make a new cult to save her mother, then destroy the murderous one terrorizing the innocents. Selene had no time to waste. She rose to go.
“Silly Huntress! You can’t leave!” Cora pushed Selene insistently on the shoulder until she reluctantly sat back on the chair. “And why would you want to? See how cozy it is here?” She crossed to the fireplace, warming her hands over the flames despite the uncomfortable heat in the room. “You can just stay here beside the fire, we’ll drink a little wine, have a little chat, and you can just wait for your Athanatoi hierophant to show up on his own. He’ll be here soon for the Great Gathering, along with everyone else. You can confront him then. It will add such drama to our little party!”
Selene cleared her throat, beginning to wonder if Cora and Aiden were more deluded than truly dangerous. “There hasn’t been a Gathering of the gods since my father summoned us to announce the Diaspora from Mount Olympus.”
“But now the gods are dying,” Aiden intoned, “and when they do, they will come here, to our realm in the Underworld, just as all the dead do.”
Surely there is no real Underworld anymore, Selene thought. We die and we disappear into nothingness. And there’s definitely no way dead gods wind up in the waiting room of a defunct pneumatic subway. Then again… she had a sudden image of all the nymphs and long-forgotten minor gods, whiling away their days among the flowers and the music. If there was any chance, however unlikely, of seeing her companions once more…
“So those who have died already,” she couldn’t help asking, “they’re here somewhere?”
“They pass through for a while,” said Aiden with a grave nod, “then disappear into Elysium, or Tartarus, or Khaos.”
She was almost afraid to ask her next question. “And… Orion?”
“He was denied an afterlife among his own kind.”
Her heart sank. “Then where is he?”
“Where you put him. In the stars. At least to begin with. Who knows where his spirit resides now? I have no control over the fate of those you give to the heavens,” he said with a touch of pique. “But the rest, as soon as they die, will arrive in my realm. And when they do, they will be under my power. I will become the King of the Gods,” Aiden continued. He spoke with the confidence of one either very wise or completely delusional. “Your father stole the crown long ago when he divided the universe among his brothers. He made me Lord of the Underworld and seized the Sky for himself. Now, finally, I can rule over him, over his children, over all the Athanatoi.”
“And I’ll be your queen.” Cora batted her eyelashes. “You, Huntress, can be my first handmaiden,” she added, as if granting a great boon.
Selene scowled, more sure than ever that she needed to get out of Aiden’s lair, and soon. The Gathering might just be a figment of his imagination, but she didn’t want to stick around to find out. “Sorry, but I have things to do on Earth before I’m ready to consign myself to the Underworld.”
“Consign yourself? She speaks as if our home were a prison,” Cora said. “And I worked so hard to make it beautiful. Tell her she can’t leave.”
“Oh no, I have to,” Selene said, thinking quickly. “If the cult is actually working, and the hierophant tells the other Athanatoi, then the fading will stop. We’ll all remain in the world above. You don’t want that to happen, do you? Who will come to your party? It’ll be just the three of us for eternity.”
Cora wrinkled her nose. “How awful.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Selene stood up and slung her backpack onto her shoulder.
She’d nearly made it to the open door when she heard Cora humming thoughtfully. “Oh bother, I’ve changed my mind. You can at least help me pick out the new drapes. Sit back down, Huntress.”
“Sorry, Cousin.” Selene smiled politely and kept walking. “Next time you want me to come to a party, send me an invitation.”
Cora gasped. “What’s she doing? Make her stay!”
“You will not leave.” Aiden pressed a button on his desk. The iron-studded door slammed shut in Selene’s face. She whirled toward her uncle. He rose once more from his desk. “Will you obey your elder, Artemis?”
“Not unless you make me, Hades,” she seethed.
“Make her! Make her!” Cora shrieked, tugging on her husband’s arm.
The Lord of the Dead smiled faintly, the red sparks now unmistakable in his eyes. Selene wondered if the flames might leap forth, charring her to a husk. He raised his hand in a gesture of command. “Come, Cerberus!”
Uh-oh. Selene spun toward the sound of clattering nails on the floorboards, expecting to see the enormous three-headed hound who had guarded the exit from the Underworld in days of old. Instead, she faced something far more monstrous. Racing through a small hatch in the wall were a wolfhound, a pit bull, and a Doberman, their collars lashed together. The tangled, scarred, slavering trio lurched toward her, their eyes rolling with pain and terror. Before she could free her bow, the pit bull lunged, snapping razor-sharp teeth inches from her thigh.
With a growl, Selene aimed a knee squarely in the pit bull’s chest, cracking its rib and knocking the dog loose. The instant she was free, she lifted her arms above her head, leaned forward, and hollered, “I am the Lady of Hounds!” Then she snarled, low and long, until she could feel the foam frothing at the corners of her mouth. The three dogs cowered before her, whimpering as they lowered their heads. She placed one booted foot firmly on the pit bull’s head, pressing it into the ground. Reaching into her backpack, she pulled out her bow, assembled it in an instant, and nocked an arrow. The other dogs tried to get away, their legs scrambling for purchase, but the rope around their necks held them tight. The sight of their drooling mouths enraged her. No hound could attack its Mistress and live. She raised her bow for a killing shot.
The Doberman let loose a long, piteous howl. Selene shot the arrow.
The point sliced neatly through the rope. Whining, the three dogs struggled free and skittered back through their hatch and out of the room. She wheeled toward Aiden’s desk. “How dare you—” she began, her bow at the ready.
But he wasn’t there. Selene’s gaze flew to the glass case that held his helm and scepter. Empty. Oh, Styx.