Page 76 of Ungodly Rich

His wife knew something was going on, though. Hermes had reported to Hades earlier today and explained that Julia was impervious to magic.Hera has figured it out, too,Hermes had relayed,and is desperately trying to learn why.

Hades had a strong suspicion about why Julia was impervious to magic. And perhaps it made him weak, but he felt that he should give Zeus one more chance to change things between them. To warn him, to help him even, in exchange for some thanks. Some respect. Some real power.

One chance to turn back, before it was too late.

“I’m sure we can find a mortal for you, too,” Zeus was saying, gazing hungrily toward the young woman in the low-cut dress.

“I’ll pass,” Hades said dryly.

Zeus scoffed. “You don’t need to be such a monk, just because you’re the god of death.” At the worddeath,the candle on the table flickered, as if a gust of wind—an ill wish, perhaps—had passed over it. Zeus didn’t seem to notice. “A little harmless pleasure might do you a world of good, you know.”

“Harmless pleasure,” Hades repeated. “They’ve never meant anything to you, is that right?”

“Never,” Zeus agreed, but Hades heard the infinitesimal pause before his response. Zeus was thinking of one mortal woman. The one who’d died too young. The one he hadn’t been able to protect.

Zeus drummed his fingers impatiently over the table, but Hades pointedly didn’t take the hint. “There is something I was hoping to discuss with you.”

Zeus’s expression darkened. “Now isn’t really the time, Hades.”

“It’s never the time, is it?”

How foolish to think that Zeus might have listened, offered him even the slightest inch. Hades felt like one of those poisonous snakes that lived in the jungles, the kind that lay in wait, with its tail rattling,and hissed just before rearing up to sink its fangs into you. He just wanted to shake his rattle a little.

It would make things more fun, when he really did strike.

Zeus gave a heavy, put-upon sigh. “Whatever complaint you’re about to make, I don’t want to hear it.”

“You really should listen—”

“Or what?” Zeus demanded. “You’ll skulk around in your creepy little invisibility cap and throw a punch at me? I’ll strike you to cinders.” He said this matter-of-factly, as if he were remarking upon the weather.

There was no use continuing this conversation. Hades drained the glass of wine before him, because it was simply too good to waste, then stood. “I’ll let you get back to your diversion.”

“Goodbye, Hades.”

Hades got into the elevator and started down to the street level, his anger fluttering around him like a physical thing, like bat’s wings. The lights in the elevator went out.

The mortals in there with him cried out in surprise, but the elevator kept descending. When the doors opened into the golden light of the Shard’s lobby, they hurried to exit. Hades followed at a slower pace, his mind turning.

Zeus had no idea what was coming for him, or what a crucial role Julia would play in it all. He had grown careless: too accustomed to being the strongest, to flexing his lightning bolt and getting what he wanted.

But the strongest were no longer the victors, not among the mortals, not anymore. The humans were overturning the natural order of things, and now the cleverest were starting to win.

Zeus, Hades thought, had made the grave mistake of underestimating him.

Chapter Thirty-One

Julia

Julia walked into the gallery and flicked on the lights, relieved to be back in New York, in her real life.

It almost felt like she’d imagined the past week in London, like it had all been some kind of fever dream: Abby getting roofied at their spontaneous bachelorette, her confrontation with Valentine, that agonizing moment when she’d walked away from Harry, not knowing whether it was for the last time.

Somehow, in the wake of that night, she and Harry had grown closer than ever. Perhaps that was a natural consequence of pushing your relationship to the brink of a breakup; you got every ugly thing out there on the table. Or at least, almost everything. Harry did say that there were still some things he couldn’t share, not yet.

Julia told herself she didn’t mind. Those were likely family secrets, probably about a trust fund or company board structure, or maybe something illegal a family member had done, which his parents had covered up. She just had to trust that Harry would tell her as soon as he could.

The entire flight back to New York, they’d held tight to each other’s hands, their foreheads tipped together. The flight attendant had finally come over with two flutes of champagne. “Newlyweds?” she’d asked fondly, and Julia realized that was probably how they seemed: insatiable for each other, like a couple giddily headed to their honeymoon.