“I have a question,” I said, around a mouthful of delicious greasy meat. He didn’t say anything, so I carried on. “Is the reason I can always sleep and eat, no matter how upset or in danger I am, part of my power?”
“Yes,” he grunted. “You need to be battle-ready, always.”
“I thought so! It makes so much sense now. I just thought I was a bit heartless.”
“You were likely that too, until you became human.” I looked sideways at him.
“And how did I become human?” I asked the question as casually as I possibly could, but his eyes darted to mine and there was nothing at all casual about them.
“I don’t know.” I scowled, and shoved more meat in my mouth.
“What is this?” I held up my last skewer.
“I don’t know.”
“You know nothing, Jon Snow,” I quoted, shaking my head and eating more.
“My name is not Jon Snow. You are irritating and confusing,” Ares said tightly.
I sighed. “At least I have a sense of humor, armor-boy.”
“I have plenty of humor.”
“Really? Tell me a joke.”
“I do not know any jokes.”
“You shock me,” I replied sarcastically. “What do you find funny then?”
“Many things.”
“Like what?”
“People falling over.” I looked up at him, licking my fingers.
“I should judge you for that, but to be honest there are whole TV shows of people falling over to laugh at where I’m from.”
“TV shows?”
“Yeah. Plays shown on screens you can watch from anywhere.”
“You mean a flame dish?”
“What?”
“A flame dish. Like the one the Lords used to show us the demon.”
So those flame dishes were the Olympian equivalent of a TV? I thought about that a moment, throwing a glare at a scruffy kid whose eyes lingered on me too long. There was no way I was getting robbed again. The streets of Erimos had already cost me a pair of panties and almost my knife.
“Can you see anything you like in these dishes?” I asked Ares.
“Gods can use them to broadcast images, and they can be used to communicate with one another. But they are rare, only the wealthy and powerful have them.”
“Huh. What do you think Pain’s Trial is going to be?”
“Gods, do you ever stop asking questions?” he groaned.
“In my defense, I have been here one day. There is a lot to learn.”
“Find someone else to ask. Like that insolent cat.” Zeeva, as usual, was nowhere to be seen.
“But how would she know what your Lord of War would be thinking? Do you think whatever it is will be painful?”
“Given that he embodies pain, yes,” he answered, slowly, as though I was stupid.
It was a fairly stupid question, I supposed. Of course it would be painful. I mean, I wasn’t scared of pain, but I certainly didn’t crave it, or get off on it. In fact, I would go pretty far to avoid it. Anticipatory nerves tingled through me and I changed the subject. “Do you like your sister?”
Ares gave a loud bark of annoyance, throwing his hands in the air. “Be quiet! I am trying to mentally prepare myself for battle and you will not shut your mouth!”
“I talk when I’m nervous,” I said.
“You are the most irritating being I have ever met! I should have just killed you in that damned human building, before that cursed cat showed up!”
The memory that accompanied his words, of the shock of finding Joshua and then seeing him towering over the body, sent me instantly from nervous-energy-mode to pissed-off-mode. I felt the skin on my face tighten, and my hands ball into fists.
“You couldn’t kill me if you wanted to,” I snarled. Ares said nothing, but his pace increased. My much shorter legs couldn’t keep up with him without skipping, and he knew it. More anger fizzled through me. “Without my power, you’re just a big muscular brute, and nothing more. I bet I’m faster than you.”
“Pray that you never find out which of us is the better fighter,” he hissed, whirling on me suddenly. I squared my shoulders, glaring up at him, but his eyes flashed inside his helmet, and he spun back, marching off down the street again. I gave him as vicious a finger flip as I could manage, and then stormed after him.
19
Bella
Pain’s tower looked just as it had the last time we had entered it, he and his creepy brothers standing in front of the oasis, a huge flame dish between them. Servants lined the entrance, all shapes and sizes, and all dressed in purple robes.
Ares didn’t pause as he strode toward the Lords. I was annoyed that I was trailing slightly behind him, so I put on my best ‘couldn’t-give-a-flying-fuck’ face and slowed down instead, so that I didn’t look like I was chasing after him. I glanced about myself like I owned the place and tried to ignore the unpleasant feeling tingling through me. I knew that if I looked over, Terror’s featureless face would be trained on me. I could feel it.
“Let’s get on with this outrage,” snapped Ares, and I was forced to look at him and the Lords.
Pain wore a smile from ear to ear, and Panic winked at me. My lip curled up, and something dark flashed through his eyes.
“Good day to you, mighty Ares,” said Pain, giving him a slow bow. “Are you ready to face the worst of your realm?”
“Get on with it!”
“As you wish.”
There was a blinding white flash, and we were no longer in the tower. I could hear sound before I could see anything, the brightness from the flash replaced with harsh sunlight. As the world came back into focus around me, my jaw hung open.
The sound was hundreds of people cheering and shouting, from row upon row of stone seats, ringing a massive sandy stage.
We were at the top of a gladiator pit.
“You intend to make me fight in the pits?” snorted Ares. “You set me no challenge at all.” He sounded cocky and sure of himself, as I continued to blink around. We were in a high box, lined with soft fabric and comfortable looking chairs, that overlooked the whole pit. The crowd were mostly human, but there were plenty of creatures I could make out in the crowd who had wings, or fur, or animal limbs. I swear I could see one person with her hair on fire.
“This is a particularly special fight,” Pain smiled. “Hence the excellent spectator turn-out.” He gestured to our right, and I turned to see another well-furnished box, occupied by a figure made of smoke, and a beautiful white-haired woman. Hades and Persephone. She gave me an encouraging smile and a finger wave. I dumbly held up my hand in response, but my fingers didn’t move.
I’d fought in rings back home most of my life. I fought for money, for glory, to tame an un-scratchable itch. But this...
This was no dark and dingy basement with shitty boxing ropes marking the boundaries. This was no stinking, cheaply-made aluminum cage, surrounded by bellowing drunks that made a grab for my sweaty ass every time I left a fight victorious.
This was the real fucking deal.
I gaped down at the sandy stage in the middle of the ring. Though far away, I could see dark smears that were surely blood. Iron bars blocked five or six gates surrounding the stage, and I wondered what they kept behind them, below the stepped rows of benches. Animals? Warriors? Monsters?