Electric Idol (Dark Olympus Book 2)
Electric Idol: Chapter 5

I arrive at the meeting spot over an hour early to scope out the place. Erebus is a little hole-in-the-wall pub on the edge of the upper city warehouse district. We might still be on the north side of the River Styx, but this area is a different world from the carefully curated central city where most of the Thirteen live. Proximity to Zeus’s place of business, Dodona Tower, is seen as a point of status, and every street in the surrounding blocks is a cold and clean combination of concrete, steel, and glass. Uniform and attractive enough if you’re into that sort of thing.

The area around the upper city warehouse district is where people go for a little illicit fun when they don’t have the strength or the balls to cross the river to the lower city. Here is where Dionysus rules, and there’s plenty of vice to go around. People also tend to look the other way and mind their own business when they’re in the area, which suits my purposes.

I have to play this carefully. This bar is small, but it’s been built into the space between two buildings so it has lots of nooks and crannies filled with shadowy tables. I have one staked out near the back, and I’ve tipped the bartender well to look the other way during what comes next.

No matter what this task entails or what my mother wants, I have no desire to make Psyche actually suffer. I’m sure Aphrodite would like me to drag her into an alley and get to work with a dull knife, but all Psyche will feel is a sleepiness and then nothing at all.

It’s the bare minimum she deserves.

I sit back and rub my hand over my chest. Now is not the time for doubts or guilt or any of that bullshit. I’ve done worse to nicer people, all because they got in my mother’s way or she decided they were threatening her position. The public might think murder is the greater evil, but they haven’t seen a young up-and-coming person have everything stripped away. Their beauty, their status, the respect of their peers. It’s so fucking easy to dismantle someone’s life if you have the right information, the right resources.

All that being said, not even I can convince myself that killing Psyche is a mercy.

It never used to be like this. I only went after people who deserved it, people who actively threatened my mother. I was a hunter of monsters, of people who intended to harm the only family I have in this world. Until one day I looked up and realized I’m the biggest monster of all. I’d sacrificed too much, had erased too many lines for morality to be anything more than a theory.

There was no going back.

There is no going back.

I sense the moment Psyche walks into the bar. The few patrons go silent and watchful. No matter that she’s dressed down in a pair of jeans and a black coat that covers her to the knees, she’s beautiful enough to stop traffic. She moves through the bar slowly, surveying each table before those hazel eyes finally land on me.

It’s a good thing she’s still a fair distance away because I suck in a breath at being the sole focus of this woman. I was too distracted the night of the party to properly appreciate her sheer presence. Even in pain and pissed the fuck off, I’d still enjoyed the way her gray dress hugged her generous figure and gave a tantalizing glimpse of her large breasts and ass. Especially when she leaned over me to change my bandages.

Focus.

She crosses to my booth and slips into the seat across from me without hesitation. Despite myself, I like that she’s not cowering or flinching. She walked in here with confidence, and I get the feeling that she approaches every situation the same way. It’s too damn bad she can’t brazen her way through tonight. “Psyche.”

“Eros.” She considers me for a long moment. Is she comparing and contrasting how I look now versus the last time we spoke? The only time, really, aside from a handful of greetings over the years at various parties. Even as children of the Thirteen, we hardly move in the same circles. The Dimitriou women hold themselves apart. Another thing about them that drives Aphrodite up the wall.

Psyche leans back slowly. “Most people send an email when they want to meet me. You’re efficient enough to have figured out my phone number. Why bother with Hermes?”

Because an email can be hacked and a phone can be traced. No matter what everyone believes about Hermes, she takes her title and her role seriously. If a message is meant to be secret, it stays that way. Not even the legacy titles can compel her to share a message.

If Psyche is murdered, I want nothing tracing it back to me.

If? What the fuck am I talking about if? Her fate was sealed the moment my mother demanded her heart. No, before that, when she showed me kindness despite the fact that anyone else in that party would have turned away. Even my friends would have pretended not to notice the blood or the limp. We all operate under the carefully balanced lie that I am nothing more than Aphrodite’s playboy son. A little too free with his charms, a little too hard to pin down in anything resembling commitment.

No one talks about what else I do for my family.

Or who pays the price.

There is no room for doubt about the price to be paid tonight. The only way forward is through. It’s not like I haven’t done worse. My hands are covered in the blood of my mother’s enemies, both real and imagined. I’ve long since made my peace with the fact that I’ll never get them clean. I’m no longer particularly inclined to fight that uphill battle for sainthood. It’s Tartarus for me.

I lean forward and prop my elbows on the table. “I’m sure Hermes already told you this, but I’d prefer to have this conversation in person.”

“She mentioned it.” Psyche shrugs out of her coat, revealing a thin black sweater that hugs her tits to perfection. “How’s your chest?”

I blink. “What?”

“Your chest. The one that was covered in cuts two weeks ago.” She nods at me. “Did you manage to replace a doctor?”

My hand goes to my chest before I can stop the impulse. “Yeah. It wasn’t as bad as it looked.”

“Lucky you.”

“Sure. Lucky.” It was a sloppy mistake on my part. If I hadn’t been rushing the job to make it to the party on time, I never would have lowered my guard enough to let Polyphonte’s father get that many strikes in. “But then, I walked away from that fight. Not everyone did.”

Psyche takes a slow breath. “Like a pretty girl who asked too many questions?”

Right. I did say that to her, didn’t I? I don’t bother to smile. “My mother takes exception to a lot of pretty girls in Olympus.” Pretty people, really. Gender matters less than beauty and attention, and Aphrodite wants the lion’s share of both for herself.

“Who was it?”

“Knowing won’t make a difference.”

Psyche gives me a sad little smile. “Indulge me.”

I meant it when I said knowing wouldn’t make a difference. It won’t save her. It won’t change what happens here tonight. “Polyphonte.”

She frowns. “I don’t know that name.”

“No reason for you to.” Polyphonte hadn’t climbed the social ladder high enough to attend Dodona Tower parties. Fuck, she hadn’t climbed high enough to do more than endanger herself. The little fool thought she could take on Aphrodite without consequences. Even if she hadn’t crossed my mother, she would have sent someone else important into a murderous rage within a month. She had too big a mouth and too little caution.

“Eros…” She shakes her head, her expression turning inward. “Never mind. I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

I suddenly desperately want to know what she almost said. Was she going to mention the way she caught me staring at her mouth? She’d bitten her lip in response to that look. I don’t think she even realized she did it. Just like I don’t think she realized she glanced at my mouth for several long seconds before she shook off the moment. If we were anyone else, in any other situation, I might have kissed her then.

I might have pulled her down onto my lap and coaxed all the wariness right out of her. First with a kiss, and then a slow seduction that we both would have enjoyed entirely too much.

I shake my head. What the fuck am I thinking? Even if I had crossed that line, it would just make this situation that much worse for both of us. “You’re right. It really doesn’t matter.”

“Like I said.” She clears her throat and straightens. “Okay, let’s get down to business. You wanted to meet to talk about how to guide the media attention away from us. Well, away from you specifically. I’m sure Aphrodite isn’t happy about the whole situation, and you’re not exactly as practiced at dealing with this stuff as I am. I have a few ideas.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“That is why we’re meeting, isn’t it?”

I might fucking kill Hermes for putting that thought into her head. I told the woman to get Psyche here, no matter what she had to say, but I didn’t expect her to use Psyche’s own good nature against her. My stomach drops. “You showed up here because you think I need your help to manipulate the media into chasing after someone else.” As if I haven’t done that very thing on my own before.

The little fool rushed here, threw herself right into my trap without a second thought, because she believed I needed her help.

I think I’m going to be sick.

Psyche goes still. “Isn’t that why we’re meeting?”

“No,” I say almost gently. Gods, I hate myself right now. “That’s not why we’re meeting.”

She clears her throat. “You’re here in your official capacity, then.”

“Yeah.” The word comes out like an apology.

A beat of silence. Another. She draws herself up. “Surely she can’t be that furious about a single photograph?”

“Actually—”

Psyche continues as if I haven’t spoken. “Then again, I suppose it’s not that simple. She and my mother have been feuding for a decade, and she won’t like that Demeter is stepping on her toes. The why doesn’t matter. The bottom line is she’s got nothing to ruin me with. I have no skeletons in my closet. Which means she’ll make some up.” She folds her arms on the table beneath her breasts. “So what’s on the agenda? Will you fabricate some seedy sex scandal? Maybe even attempt to exile me, though good luck with that. My mother won’t stand for it.”

She’s obviously not taking this seriously, and I suddenly need her to be. I don’t know why. My job would be significantly easier if she thought this wasn’t literally life or death. And yet I replace myself telling her the truth. “Aphrodite doesn’t want you ruined. She wants you dead.”

Psyche goes pale.

I expect tears. Begging. Maybe even for her to try to run. She does none of those things. After taking a moment to collect herself, she merely squares her shoulders and holds my gaze. “Eros, you strike me as a not-unintelligent man.”

“Thanks,” I say drily. Experience had given me a map of how this conversation would go, and Psyche hasn’t performed to expectations at all. Against my better judgment, a sliver of curiosity wedges itself through my determination to see this through. I knew she was different from anyone I’ve dealt with previously. I suspected she was formidable, but she’s even more than I could have guessed.

“You must realize who I have in my corner. If you do something to me, Persephone will rip you into a million pieces, and Hades will stand by to ensure no one stops her from doing it.” She leans forward, and I can’t help glancing at where her impressive cleavage presses against the V of her sweater. “That’s not even getting into what my mother will do. Unlike Aphrodite, Demeter has no problem getting her hands dirty when the situation calls for it.”

“Are you saying your mother murdered the last Zeus?”

“Of course not.” She snorts. “That’s an unsubstantiated rumor and you know it. Let’s not pretend your mother wouldn’t have pounced on the story and run with it if she had even a shred of evidence.”

She’s not wrong. Still, I replace it interesting that she didn’t flat out say Demeter is innocent. The official story might be that Zeus somehow accidentally broke the window in his office and accidentally fell to his death, but everyone knows it’s fiction.

None of that matters, though.

This is quickly spiraling out of control. “Psyche—”

“I’m not finished.” She eyes the drink I ordered for her, the one containing the sedative that will knock her out and ensure she feels no pain. “There’s one additional element that you need to consider before we go any further. My mother is arranging a marriage between me and Zeus. I can’t imagine he’ll thank you for killing the future Hera.”

Understanding dawns, bringing with it frustration hot enough to burn me to ash. “If that were settled, this would already be squashed.” Not even Aphrodite would dare go after the future Hera.

“Maybe, but it’s still a very large risk to take. As I said before, you strike me as a smart man, so you must have considered this already.”

That’s quite the backhanded compliment. Against my better judgment, admiration snakes its way through me. She came in here expecting one thing, but she’s pivoted with barely any hesitation at all and is well on her way to outmaneuvering me. “If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be all that smart, would I?”

“Exactly.” Psyche tilts her head to the side. “With all that said, I have a question for you.”

I sit back with a curse and wave my hand. “By all means, don’t let me stop your brilliant monologue.”

“Thank you.” She gives me a small smile that almost combats the fear lurking in her hazel eyes. I had a lot of assumptions about this woman when her family first appeared on the scene ten years ago, and those assumptions only seemed to be confirmed in the intervening years. Between her helping me at the party and this conversation, I’m forced to admit that I might have been dead wrong.

She’s not a vapid social influencer whose only hobbies include spending her mother’s money and taking pretty pictures for her followers. There’s a cunning brain in that pretty head, and she’s using every bit of her intelligence in an attempt to get out of this situation alive.

Psyche tucks a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “If stability is so important that Demeter, Hades, and even Zeus are all invested in seeing it happen, do you really think that they’ll stand back and let your mother’s petty feud go unchecked? They might be willing to look the other way when her targets are outside their immediate circle, but I am not some poor socialite who no one has ever heard of. I’m Demeter’s daughter. If you harm me, they will take action. They’ll crush her, and you with her.”

She’s not wrong. When the majority of the Thirteen get on board and agree with one another, they’re nearly an unstoppable force. It’s too damn bad it won’t make a difference for the woman sitting across from me. “Cute story. Even if it’s true, it won’t matter.”

At that, her smile dies. “What are you talking about? I just named a good number of the major players in this city, and I imagine Poseidon will throw his support behind them as well since he seems to hate all the jockeying for position. That’s all three of the legacy titles. Surely your mother is smart enough to know when she’s been outmaneuvered. Surely you are. No logical person would continue down this path against these odds.”

I bite back a sigh. That’s the crux of it, isn’t it? “Bold of you to assume my mother and logic have ever been on speaking terms. Do you know her at all?”

She opens her mouth, seems to reconsider whatever she was about to say, and finally frowns harder. “I thought the petty, vengeful thing was an act.”

My life would be so much simpler if it were, if my mother didn’t live to see the downfall of anyone who crosses her, even in passing. “She’s more than capable of dealing with the fallout.” One way or another. I don’t know how she’ll manage it, but I already know what she’d say if I brought this to her.

Your job isn’t to think, Son; it’s to punish who I tell you to punish.

Kill the girl and carve out Demeter’s heart in the process.

Psyche goes even paler. “You really mean that.”

“I do.”

“I just came here and told you that I can marshal a good number of the Thirteen against you, and it doesn’t matter how many moves I make because the person giving you orders cares more about her personal vengeance than she does about her son’s life.” She stares up at me, searching my face for something that she’ll never replace. “She’s the reason you were hurrying to the party, isn’t she? That you didn’t go to a doctor first? I bet she was furious you were late.”

Psyche’s hitting a little too close to the truth. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters. You were hurt. Even my mother, with all her machinations and ruthlessness, would care if one of us were injured.”

I give her the look that statement deserves. “I would say that supports my point, not yours. But it doesn’t matter, because no one will pin this on me. You made sure of that.” I pull my phone out, replace the app I want, and open it. Then I set it on the table between us. Psyche leans over and scrolls through a few posts, going paler and paler. I already know what she’ll see. Hermes and Dionysus and a curvy brunette apparently having the time of their lives on the town. The brunette’s face is never quite in the picture, but she’s close enough to Psyche’s body type and hair style that everyone will believe it’s her. “These photos are all tagged and time stamped. No one even knows you’re here.”

“Hermes does.”

“Hermes is playing her own game. She’s not on your side. She’s not on anyone’s side but her own.” I reclaim my phone. “And she won’t come forward with the truth for the very reasons you just listed. She’s as invested in stability as Zeus and the rest. She won’t give up any information that will start a war.” Hermes is chaotic enough that normally I wouldn’t pretend I could guess which way she’d jump, but I know this is the truth.

Ultimately, she serves Olympus just like the rest of the Thirteen.

Psyche’s bottom lip quivers a little, but she makes a blatant attempt to firm it. “You deserve better than to simply be your mother’s weapon, Eros.”

“Don’t bother trying to appeal to my humanity. I have none.”

She leans forward and lowers her voice, hazel eyes pleading. “I helped you two weeks ago. I didn’t have to and we both know it. Maybe you don’t have humanity, but surely you believe in the scales being balanced. Are you really willing to repay my help with violence simply because it made your mother mad?”

“Psyche.” Damn it, I shouldn’t have said her name. It feels too good to do it, makes me want things not meant for me. “Stop. Nothing you say will make a difference.”

For the first time since she sat down, true fear comes to life in her eyes. She came here ready to help the son of her mother’s enemy and pivoted into a truly spectacular argument that would have worked if I were anyone else, if she hadn’t already been the instrument of her downfall because she trusted me enough to create an alibi for her location. It’s been so long since I’ve been challenged, so long since someone has even tried to fight back, to outmaneuver me.

So long since someone showed me even a shred of kindness.

I replace myself reaching out and covering one of her hands with my own. Her skin is startlingly warm. “For what it’s worth, it was a good try. You gave it your best shot.”

“Strange how that doesn’t make me feel better.” She stares down at where I touch her. “I’m going to need you to take your hand back now. I hardly want comfort from my murderer.”

Something pricks me and I remove my hand from hers and use it to rub my chest, the feeling from before when she patched me up getting stronger. What the fuck is this? Surely I’m not having an attack of conscience now. I can’t save this woman. I might be my mother’s preferred weapon, but I’m hardly the only one. If I refuse to do this, she’ll send someone else, and they won’t care if Psyche is terrified and in agony at the end. They’ll simply cut her down.

“Is this what you did with Polyphonte? Met her for drinks and then took her out back and killed her? I guess kudos to her for putting up a fight, but obviously she wasn’t successful. How many times have you done this, Eros? Is that really the life you want?”

“Stop.” The word comes out harsher than I intend it, but I know what she’s doing and it won’t work. I didn’t intentionally put myself on the path to become my mother’s pet monster, but I’m here now and there’s no going back. “I meant what I said before. You can’t talk your way out of this.”

She runs her fingers through the ends of her hair, twisting it in a way that looks almost painful, but her expression is eerily calm. “I wanted kids. That seems so foolish now. Why would I want to bring kids into this world? But I did. I thought I had more time. I’m only twenty-three.”

Fuck. “Stop,” I repeat.

“Why?” Something sharp and angry breaks through the calm. “Does it make me seem more human to you? Harder to pull the trigger?”

Yes. And it was already a herculean effort before. “It doesn’t matter what I want.” I don’t mean to say that, but I haven’t meant to say a lot of things when it comes to this woman. She’s so fucking brave, and it just kills me that I’ve been ordered to snuff out this light. But there’s no other option.

Unless there actually is a way to repay her earlier kindness…

No. It’s a terrible idea, and hardly foolproof. My mother is like a terrier with a bone when it comes to her vendettas. She won’t let anything get in the way of punishing both Psyche and Demeter by removing Psyche. If I try to stand in her way, she’ll just go around me and kill Psyche anyway.

“Promise me that you won’t hurt my sisters.”

I drag myself out of my traitorous thoughts and stare at her. “You know I can’t do that.” When she narrows her eyes, I relent. “Look, Persephone is as safe as possible because she’s married to Hades, and no one wants the boogeyman of Olympus showing up on their doorstep. Callisto is likely safe for a similar reason—no one wants to fuck with her kind of viciousness. She doesn’t play by the established rules, and that’s enough to make most enemies think twice. And Eurydice…” I shrug. “All she has to do is have a prolonged stay in the lower city and few people can even get to her. It’s not like Hades or Persephone are going to invite my mother’s people over the river to harm her.”

“Is all this supposed to make me feel better? You could just promise not to hurt them.”

I give her the look that statement deserves. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

“You could give me your word.”

I know she’s still trying to make herself more human to me, to prick my nonexistent conscience, but when’s the last time someone actually gave a damn about my word? My mother’s tasks have dragged my name through the mud, deserved though that may be. No one trusts me, because all it takes is pissing Aphrodite off and her will overrides mine. She points, I take care of things. My word doesn’t mean a fucking thing.

Maybe that’s why I replace myself asking, “If I gave you my word, would you believe me?”

“Yes.”

The word feels like she reached across the table and punched me in the chest. There isn’t a shred of doubt in those three letters. If I gave my word, she would believe me; it’s as simple as that. I stare at this woman who defies all my expectations. I had half convinced myself that her taking care of me that night was a fluke or at least something I could push aside. It’s not a fluke, though. Her showing up here tonight is proof of that.

Psyche really is a good person who’s somehow managed to survive Olympus politics.

And my mother wants me to extinguish her flame.

I swallow hard. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” Psyche repeats. She stops twisting her hair and gives me her full attention. “Are you giving your word?”

I shake my head slowly. “I can’t promise you anything.”

“Oh.” The disappointment on her pretty face cuts through me like a knife. I am not a good person. I never had a chance to be one, and it’s not like I fought my fate all that hard once the path unfurled beneath my feet. But killing Psyche? The idea of it made me uncomfortable before, but after this conversation, it makes me physically ill.

I…can’t do this.

Maybe I do have a soul, dusty and unused though it is, because the thought of ending Psyche’s life feels so fucking repellent to me, I’m about to do something unforgivable. I take a drink of my vodka tonic, the burning of the alcohol doing nothing to clear away the sudden determination taking root inside me.

A wild plan takes root, one reckless in the extreme. Defying my mother is a risk, but it’s one I’m willing to take. Psyche has already risked herself for me twice. Surely I can meet her halfway? I’m not good like she is, though. It’s not kindness that has me speaking. It’s pure selfish want. “There might be another way.”