"Furies are considered goddesses," he said.
Hector and Jasper walked in front of me, paying no attention to the decorative hallway; contrary to Jasper's panic when he burst through the office door, they gave no impression of hurry in their stride. Whatever they were saying was lost by the time their words reached me: there was too much space between us. I followed them down the hall, around a corner, and to another set of wooden doors, these ones large enough for a giant to stroll through. They made me feel incredibly small, more like a worm than a mighty Fury.
Jasper waved his hand as they approached and the doors swung open with ease. He placed himself in front of Hector and entered the room first, introducing Hades loudly to whomever waited on the other side. Hector followed, back straight, poised. He was impressive, even from behind.
Especially from behind.
Once Hector had crossed the threshold into the throne room the doors began to swing shut.
"Wait!" In a desperate attempt to be part of their meeting, to finally feel like I was a part of something, to have my curiosity sated, I flew. Honest to gods, I flew: without being angry, without anyone trying to attack me, I transformed and took flight.
My body instinctively drew my wings in tightly as I spiraled into the chamber just before the doors clicked shut. I was very impressed with myself. Fleetingly I hoped that Hector had been watching.
"Thanks for waiting, guys," I spat sarcastically.
Nobody was listening to me. Hector sat in his throne at the end of the breathtaking room. The walls were a burgundy color gilded with thin swirling lines of gold inlay that stretched and weaved as they traveled to the high ceiling. Three sets of pillars lined either side of the carpeted runway leading to the base of his throne. The chair itself was a muted golden color, regal but understated, not exactly in disrepair but ancient. Hector sat relaxed in the throne, leaning on against the armrest, one ankle perched on the opposite knee. His suit, the throne, the room itself should have painted him in a different light but he was the same Hector I had become accustomed to seeing.
Jasper stepped in my view. "You are going to screw this up for him if you don't keep your mouth shut. Stay out of sight. Say nothing. Pretend you are not here."
The lamia never spoke so harshly to me beforeâI did as I was told. He didn't stick around to see if I understood; he knew that I didn't have a choice. Jasper spun away from me and quickly took up a place to the left of Hector's throne, just behind his master.
Standing in front of the throne was a tall, stocky man. Built, toned, muscularâpick a descriptor, any descriptor, and Ares was it. He could have picked me up and tossed me across the room with one arm.
And I could only see the backside of him. Imagine the front side.
"You had enough time to locate the Nectar. You've been given the option to turn over the retched thief. You are done. Zeus is finished playing games, Hector. Do you or do you not have the elixir?" Ares spoke in a booming voice. His words echoed off of the walls, bouncing around the dome of a ceiling.
"You sound tired, Ares. Tell me, without the Nectar, how are you faring?" Hector smiled at his guest as if there hadn't been a threat in his words. "I suspect Hermes, Hera, and the muses are settling into their new roles well. Please convey to them my offer of assistance should they need help with the transition."
Ares roared. "You will bring war upon your realm! Dare not test me, imposter. I will see that your short-lived reign will come to an abrupt end, so help me Zeus. Now give me the Nectar!"
Hector's smile never waned. He stood from the throne and approached the fellow god. I couldn't see, standing directly behind Ares and still at the door. As ordered, I pretended I wasn't there at all.
Because no one was paying attention to me, I slipped behind one of the thick pillars. With just enough space between the stone pillar and the wall, I tiptoed along the wall one pillar at a time, closer and closer to the staring contest.
Peeking around the pillar I was just in time to see Ares throw the first punch. Hector blocked it, using Ares's momentum to push him back. A sword appeared in Hector's hand and he whipped it towards Ares' throat as if it weighed nothing. The blade made contact with the god's shoulder instead of his neck, thudding against the armor he wore.
Ares grunted but didn't let the blow stop him. He spun a kick at Hector's head, Hector blocked again, but Ares had already bounced back and retaliated with great strength. They moved so fast I almost couldn't keep up. Both men landed blows; Hector threw Ares to the floor but not before Ares had hit him hard enough to send him flying into the pillar next to me, shaking the foundation of the stone. A sliver of cracks appeared. I had gasped but Hector brushed himself off and jumped right back into the fight with a kick in Ares's gut.
Neither of them seemed to be slowing down.
Even when Ares was pinned to the floor he managed to buck Hector off to keep fighting. They didn't even look winded. Jasper's miracle cocktails were effective.
Hector swung his sword again and caught Ares in the side of the head. With his opponent disoriented, Hector swept his feet from under him. Once again on the floor, Ares looked up to find Hector's form leaning over him, the point of the blade pressed against the downed god's throat.
"You are getting slow, old man," Hector said, not gloating so much as observing. He hadn't looked slow to me. "You let Zeus know for the last time that I do not have the Nectar. Also, please inform him that your visits are no longer necessary. The next time you enter my realm, you and I both know you will not be alone."
It wasn't a threat, not a promise, just a statement of fact. Hector knew and I was willing to bet that Ares knew it too: the coming war was inevitable regardless of who had the Nectar.
He had only given me a week to train and learn all that I could and the week was coming to close.
Hector turned away from the beaten god in favor of his beautiful golden throne, suddenly more vibrant than before the fight, allowing Ares the privacy to pick himself up, showing him dignity and respect. In return for his kindness, Ares pushed himself off the floor and attacked.
Time slowed drastically around me: still in the Fury guise from only moment before, I flew at Ares, catching him before he had a chance to reach Hector. We crashed to the floor, his arms caught under his body, my knee solidly between his shoulder blades. One blow with a red-hot fist was all it took; his head crushed between my fist and the marble floor. Ares stilled beneath me.
The voice in the back of my head congratulated me. My conscience was proud of my newfound killer instinct to protect my lord. Then the panic set in: I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Jasper gaped at me from beside the throne, where he remained statuesque when Ares attacked Hector.
Ares, the god of war.
Ares, one of the most temperamental gods, second only to Zeus.
Ares, who lay dead beneath me.
"Autumn." Hector touched my shoulder. He abandoned his path to the throne to stand beside me in the gore.
There was metaphorical blood on my hands. Or was it real blood? A pool grew under his head, steadily moving across the floor, running away from me. Everything in my line of sight was tinged red. I couldn't look at Hector; the muscles in my neck refused to move.
"Autumn," he tried again. Only I didn't feel like me. The Autumn that we all know and love would never have flown off the handle and killed a god, not even to defend Hector. I liked him but not that much.
I shouldn't have been able to do that.
"Autumnâlook at me." Hector's voice was demanding enough to shake me from my own head. I looked at him sharply. "Bring Autumn back, Fury. I command youâ"
He stopped abruptly. A shudder rolled though my body and suddenly I was exhausted. The energy, the sick excitement I felt at the prospect of war, pain, bloodshed dissipated.
Air rushed into my lungs and I could breathe again. I scrambled away from the body, disgusted with myself, afraid of myself. Jasper's orders hadn't stopped me. The Fury was too powerful.
"I think I killed him. They weren't my hands but..." I paused. The body beside me on the floor taunted me. "I killed Ares."
Hector held me. I didn't cry, exactly. I wanted toâmy moral code was in serious conflict. Eventually he stood, took my hand, and guided me gently to the throne. Without an audience, I guess it was just a chair. Hector gently pushed me to sit. I let him. Auto-pilot engaged.
I killed Ares. His body lay somewhere behind Hector where I couldn't see but I knew it was there. It was always going to be there.
Jasper whispered something about the mantle of Ares, and don't touch it, and call Hermes. His words flowed over me and into oblivion; everything he said got lost in the cacophony that was my thoughts. Hector, who had serious damage control to start, eventually stopped blocking my view of the scene. No one replaced the obstruction he created and I once again had a front seat to the damage on the floor of the throne room.
Someone I had never seen came and removed the body. Another stranger entered the room with a sponge and a bucket. My eyes never left the spot where Ares died as she cleaned the blood, Hector's and Ares', from the floor and the pillars.
I had helped to spill some of that blood. Was it in self-defense or cold blood? Defense can be reconciled. My moral compass hasn't gone so far off-course.
Hector kept looking at me from the far end of the room, huddled in an urgent meeting with several men I didn't recognize, advisors. Something like concern lit his eyes but I didn't look back at him. I couldn't meet his gaze.
I killed Ares. He was weak from lack of Nectar and unsuspecting but I shouldn't have been able to kill him.
War was coming to his doorstep and now it would be all my fault.