Page 66 of The Games Gods Play
Other reasons.
“Are you warning me not to trust him?” I ask.
“I’m warning you that nothing is ever as it seems with my brother.” Aphrodite shrugs like this is no big deal, but her gaze holds mine intently. “And when he wants something, he can be the most ruthless of us all.”
33
Enemies & Allies
The swirling tornado of my thoughts sucks up Aphrodite’s warning and won’t let me be. I go over and over and over every word as I wander farther along the path.
I’m not really paying attention to my surroundings until I realize I’m in the center of buildings again, each lined up on either side of a cobbled street, looking like the ancient Greek version of idyllic Main Street USA or a European town square.
And I’m not the only person here by a long shot. The street is full of gods, demigods, nymphs, satyrs, and centaurs, all in modern clothing—at least for those who wear clothes. Most pay me no attention, though I get a second glance or two. Still, it feels safe enough, even with twilight darkening the skies.
This must be the entertainment district Aphrodite mentioned. I have never in my life thought of the gods and goddesses as needing entertainment. I’ve always figured that we mortals fulfilled that need for them. But turning around to take it all in, I can see several restaurants, an art gallery, a library, a spa, and even a dance club with bass thumping through the open front door.
I guess gods just want to have fun, too.
I get a lot of looks, but no one bothers me. I try not to let my guard down regardless. A burst of laughter spills into the street from up ahead, and I follow the sound to a building at the corner and read the sign above the entrance—Bacchus’ Place.
Dionysus uses his Roman name here?
Stop focusing on minutia, Lyra.
The more interesting fact is that the god of wine and revelry apparently runs a bar in Olympus.
“Makes sense,” I murmur to myself. Not just because of who he is, either. There are enough stories of drunk gods and resulting babies that I’d venture to say Dionysus makes a killing with this particular establishment.
Maybe some of the champions will be here?
It’s as good a place to check as any, so I head inside.
The place is…disappointing.
Like every mortal pub I’ve seen. I was expecting something as spectacular as the outside, but no such luck. A bar stretches along one entire wall—yes, of white marble, but still—wooden tables of various sizes are all around, and windows look out onto the street. Several TVs showing mortal sports and news and a K-drama hang above the bar. Those are, I guess, the biggest surprise. I didn’t picture gods and goddesses lounging around with a beer and watching TV.
The place is packed. I don’t recognize all the faces—there are so many gods to keep track of, and I’m not sure all of them in here are Grecian—but I do think I recognize Eirene, the goddess of peace, Hybris, the god of outrageous behavior, and Thrasos, the god of boldness. There’s got to be a joke in there somewhere. A champion walks into a bar…
“Lyra?”
I pause. The bartender is looking right at me. “Um…” I glance around, but there’s no one behind me. “How do you know my name?”
Dressed in the style of a goth, with deep-red streaks through her jet-black hair and black makeup around her eyes, she has a smile that’s pitying in that “oh silly mortal” way. “After today, we all know you, sweetie.”
Right. Hades’ champion for the Crucible. All the gods are watching.
She adds, “Well done on your first Labor.”
I guess I’ll have to get used to being congratulated for surviving something that killed another person right in front of me. Not wanting to offend, I nod.
“I’m Lethe,” she introduces herself. “Goddess of oblivion and forgetfulness. Looks like you could use some of that.”
Frustration sparks at being so easy to read. “I’m fine. I’m looking for my fellow champions. Have you seen any of them?”
“Is Hades coming?” She glances over my shoulder.
Do I admit I’m alone?
