God of Thieves. Aimee CarterЧитать онлайн книгу.
I repeated the process again, this time picturing Selene’s pale, oval face and her doe eyes. I’d never met anyone who looked like her before, and it should’ve been easy to spot that unique glow.
Three times around again, and still nothing. I huffed with frustration. This never happened. I always found what I was looking for.
I opened my eyes, and everyone—even Demeter and Hades—was staring at me. My lips thinned. This wasn’t exactly the break I needed to get back on their good side. “I couldn’t find them.”
“What do you mean—” started Ares, but I cut him off.
“I mean, I couldn’t find them,” I snapped.
“Did you check the cold lands?” said Ares, and I nodded. “What about the Underworld?”
“Of course.” I wasn’t stupid. “They aren’t anywhere.”
Silence. Ares sat back down slowly, while everyone else glanced at one another, too afraid to say anything.
“You are sure?” said Zeus in a low voice, glaring at me as if this was my fault.
“I’m sure,” I said. “I checked three times. It’s like they don’t exist anymore.”
“Cronus warned us this might happen,” said Hera. “He said we would not last forever, dependent as we are on mortals. Our purpose is so wrapped up in them that when we are no longer needed—”
“But who among us is more necessary to mortal life than the sun and the moon?” said Demeter. The two of them glared at each other, and while normally I would’ve been on the edge of my seat in anticipation of a catfight, somehow now didn’t seem like the time.
Hera raised her chin half an inch so she could look down her nose at Demeter. Not that I was judging—I wasn’t Demeter’s biggest fan right now, either, after the way she’d treated Persephone. But still. Life and death, people. “I hardly see their importance now that Apollo and Artemis have usurped their roles.”
“We didn’t usurp anything,” said Artemis, bristling. On the other hand, maybe a catfight would help take our minds off this. “We apprenticed with them. We didn’t steal their jobs.”
“And yet here we are, with every shred of evidence pointing to Helios and Selene having faded,” said Hera. “Tell me, do you have any other explanation?”
Artemis clenched her hands. “I don’t know. Maybe Rhea went rogue.”
“And decided to kill them instead of us? I highly doubt it.”
Poseidon cleared his throat. He never spoke up much during meetings, since we mostly dealt with mortal problems, and the sea was his realm. But when he did, everyone paid attention. “If Hermes believes they are no longer present in any of the realms, then we have no reason to question it. His judgment is as sound as each of ours.”
Across from me, Hades hissed, but he said nothing. Coward. If he had something to say to me, he should’ve said it to my face.
“Hermes, do you believe they are gone?” said Zeus, and I nodded. Had to focus on the big picture here. Hades was never going to like me again no matter what I did—no point in wasting energy trying to win him over.
“If I can’t find them, then they’re nowhere at all. And the only explanation is that they’ve faded.”
A hush settled over the council again, and in the throne beside Ares, Aphrodite dabbed her eyes. “Are we next?”
“No.” Hephaestus set his hand over hers, ignoring Ares’s glares. “We are simply too important to fade like that.”
“So were Helios and Selene and who knows how many others,” said Athena. “How can we possibly be sure this isn’t the end of the age of gods?”
“How could it be?” said Hera. “Perhaps some minor gods may be facing the end, but we are indispensable. Mortals still need us.”
“For how long?” said Athena. “For another century? Millennia? How long until they have moved beyond us? Whether we want to acknowledge it or not, we are in danger, and we cannot continue to revel in ignorance. We must figure out why this is happening. If Helios and Selene are missing, there may be others, and our best shot is to find out who is gone and discover a common link.”
“I can help with that,” I said. It would take a while, tracking down every single god and goddess, but if it meant they would start treating me like family instead of a fungus, the time and effort had to be worth it. “And maybe I could go down to the surface as well, see what I can find.”
“Are you sure that is wise?” Hades’s voice seemed to fill the throne room, even though he was practically whispering. “May I remind the council what happened the last time Hermes offered his help where it was not welcome?”
My face grew hot. Who the hell did he think he was, talking to me like that? “Persephone has nothing to do with this,” I said.
“On the contrary. Perhaps if you had not been so engrossed in your affair, you would have done your duties and realized Helios’s and Selene’s absences sooner.”
So we were back to this again. “That was thousands of years ago,” I said through gritted teeth. “I am not Adonis. She did not die for me. Get over it already.”
“I will get over it when we are even,” he said, and a rumble of thunder interrupted my retort.
“Enough,” said Zeus quietly. “Bicker in your own time. Hermes, we will need to know who is still among us and who else has faded as soon as possible. But I do not see what mingling with mortals will accomplish.”
“But Athena just said—”
“Let Athena and the others deal with that,” he said. “You have your orders. Now, for once, do as you are told.”
Yes, I did have my orders: be mindlessly obedient when they needed me, and when they didn’t, shut up and be invisible, because no one wanted me there anyway. I’d been in trouble before—who hasn’t?—but this was a whole new level of punishment. I would’ve taken being banished from Olympus any day over being pushed out of my family.
But I didn’t protest, because it wouldn’t have changed things anyway, and I’d need my strength for this job. Social exile was exhausting enough as it was, and lethargy wasn’t a good look on me.
Zeus handed out a few more jobs, none of which consisted of going down to the surface and actually talking to mortals to see where we stood, and the council adjourned. Seconds later, Zeus floated a scroll toward me. Apparently not even my father wanted to get close enough to touch me.
“A list of every god and goddess we know of,” he said. “If you value your place on the council, you will have your report to me this time tomorrow.”
If I—Was he serious? Was he really going to strip me of my throne if I didn’t get this to him in time?
No, it had to be some kind of mind game. A way to scare me into submission, nothing more. Zeus had worked far too hard to ensure that the council was under his thumb, and if he upset the balance by removing me, Hera would be one vote away from taking the crown.
Then again, maybe he’d use me as an example. Show that anyone who dared to defy him was one swift kick in the ass away from joining Helios and Selene in the unknown. Either way, I didn’t have much time.
I uncurled the scroll, and my eyes nearly popped out of my head. The list was endless. “You want me to find every single person on this list by tomorrow?”
No reply. I looked up, and Zeus’s throne was empty. Perfect. I glanced down at the scroll again and scowled. One day. Countless names. And no one to help me, because the entire council thought I was the plague.
Maybe that’s what Zeus was counting on—I’d fail, and he’d have a valid reason to remove me from Olympus.