“Who is it that has them so frightened, I wonder,” Demi said to all of us after Hermes and I finished telling them what happened inside the house.

“I don’t know what it all meant,” I said. I sat in the dining room chair I had occupied during the meal and the others were seated in roughly the same seats, too. Only Ares stood. His shoulder leaned against the same door frame that he had used earlier as his prop. For all his appearance of relaxation, he was tense as a violin string. I continued, “Someone has appeared that they didn’t want to appear.”

“Who is more powerful and eviler than Phobos?” Dionysus asked me.

“Answer that question, Dion, and we know what has scared Phobos.” I turned toward my brother who had contributed nothing to the conversation. “Ares, do you know?”

“Phobos is fearless. Or so I thought.”

“Has Phobos never been afraid of anything or anyone?” I asked Ares.

“I thought I just answered that question.” Ares’s tone was abrupt. I dismissed him with a thought. He was still angry and blocking me from entering his thoughts. I still had a vague sense that we were connected, but other than that, he may as well not have existed.

“What happens now?” Eli asked me, averting my attention from my rancorous brother.

“The house and everyone in it must be destroyed. Whoever has terrified the god of terror is still in the house. Our next move has to be decisive, direct, and very soon.”

It happened so quickly that it took several seconds for my brain to register the event.

The chandelier over my head went dark.

Something warm, thick, and sticky hit me in the face before I had a chance to react. I didn’t see it coming at me.

The light came back on after being dark for only 3 or 4 seconds.

I wiped my eyes to clear them with the sleeve of my soaked sweatshirt and only succeeded in smearing the stuff across my face. But, I could see. Blood and thicker things hung from my body and dripped from the ceiling. A bone fragment, likely from a femur, dropped onto the tabletop with a resounding thud.

“Great Zeus!” I said, standing abruptly. I wasn’t alone. Everyone at the table stood and looked around in astonishment and shock. All of us were covered in gore. The scene was an instant replay of the scene in the theater and of the Jeep that hit the Corvette. But, where did all the gore come from?

A quick count left three people missing. Again, my brain refused to accept the fact that we were not all present. I counted again. Only nine were left in the room where twelve stood only moments before. Who? Who was dead? I scanned the faces, again, looking for the missing people and trying to make sense of the horrible, horrible event.

Blood dripped from the ceiling like rain and gobs of flesh dropped onto the table with wet, stomach-lurching plops. The room was filled with that awful metallic stench of copper. The part of the tragedy that stuck in my head the most, that created the worst nightmares, was the hair that floated in the air. Long strands of hair, stained red by blood fluttered to land softly on the tabletop. The hair wasn’t connected to anything. Simply individual strands drifted down. Some of it found its way to my arm and I brushed it away like it was a spider’s web. The feeling of it remaining on my skin long after the hair joined the ghastly stuff on the table and the floor.

I leaned against the table with one hand and grabbed my chest with the other. No, it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be happening. I understood what Jessica felt in the mall. Would anyone be able to draw me back from an abyss of shock and despair as I had done for her? I felt my brain retreating from a truth that was almost too hideous to bear.

“Who is missing?” Nike asked, apparently recovering more quickly than I did. She looked around frantically and I realized she simply verbalized what was in her mind.

“Demi,” Jason said, choking on the word. “Demeter, my wife, was right beside me and now she is...” he paused and then quietly added the word, “gone.” He waved his hand over the table. In his other hand, he still held onto her hand. When he realized what he grasped, he tossed it away as if it were trash. He began to tremble and his mouth worked, but no sound came out. Just seconds before she asked who frightened Phobos. She died before she had her answer. The beautiful goddess of the harvest was reduced to a red nightmare. But, were there others who joined her?

“And Bill,” Hermes added. “But, he isn’t dead. I can still feel his presence. He is not in this room.”

“Who else,” Dion asked looking from one face to another.

It took me four tries to get the name out of my mouth and when I said it, I felt like the world stopped spinning. “Helios.”

With that word, Hermes vanished from the room while I tried to catch my breath. I literally couldn’t breathe. I gasped for precious air and then decided that I didn’t really want to breathe, after all. Helios was gone. Eli, my love, my love, how can I live without you? Don’t you know how much you mean to me? Don’t you know that you are my life? The world turned gray and then black. Mercifully, I collapsed onto the blood-drenched Persian rug, and all conscious thoughts fled into the night.

Someone yelled at me, over and over, disturbing my sleep. I didn’t want to wake up. I didn’t want to ever wake up. “Helios is not dead. He’s not dead. I would know it.” It was Ares, my brother-enemy who spoke. “Athena, wake up. Athena!” Something hit me in the face over and over. Ares struck me with the flat of his hand, repeatedly. He sat me up, by pulling on my sweatshirt and I felt my head droop. He hit me again. “By Zeus, you’ve got to wake up.”

I allowed my eyes to marginally focus on him. “Why?” I asked, not understanding what was happening.

“You have to be a leader. You can’t afford the luxury of self-indulgence.”

“Bastard!” I spat the word at him.

“That’s right. Get angry.” He said. He actually smiled at me.

My backside felt wet, so I allowed Ares to help me to my feet. I plopped into the nearest dining room chair. I started to lean my elbows on the table but thought better of it when I noted the table top was almost completely covered in blood. It had started to run from the table to drip onto the floor.

“It is just like those kids in the mall,” I said.

“Phobos didn’t do this,” Ares said. “Phobos may have killed the others, but he didn’t blow the kids in the mall apart, nor did he kill Demi. We didn’t check for residual magic at the mall or would have known that sooner.”

“How do you know that? Or are you just trying to protect your son?” I asked.

“Reach out with your feelings, Athena. Touch the magic in the air. You can feel it like a living thing, still lingering in this room,” Ares said. “It doesn’t feel like Phobos. Every time any of us does a metaphysical act, it leaves a kind of signature behind. This isn’t Phobos. You know this.” He pulled my face around until I was looking into his eyes. “Feel, Athena,” he shouted. “Feel something.”

“I don’t want to,” I shouted back.

“Why not?” He demanded.

“Because I don’t want to feel Eli’s death.”

“Eli is not dead! Eli is alive. Now, stop this self-indulgent anguish and touch the magic. Maybe you know who it is.” Ares raised his hand to slap me again and I grabbed his wrist to forestall the blow.

“Do. Not. Hit. Me. Again.” I said, making each word a complete sentence. Then, I did as he requested and stretched out my feelings to touch the power in the room. Ares was right. The residual energy in the room didn’t feel like Phobos. Or Deimos, Eris or Enyo. This was something new. Something evil, rotten, and vile.

“Who is it?” I whispered to the magic in the room, but I got no sense of the originator.

Hermes appeared in the room, his face suffused with anger. “I can’t get back into the house,” he said. “They are in there. Bill and Eli are in there. I can sense them, as if from a great distance, but they are there. And Athena, they are alive. Whoever killed Demi snatched Bill and Eli in the same instant. Whoever did this is far more powerful than Phobos even dreamed of being. I would have thought the only one of us with this kind of power was Zeus and now maybe you.”

Of course, Eli and Bill would have to be alive. The power bond that we share would likely have killed Ares and me if they were dead. My brain was still in a fog of dejection because I didn’t fully grasp what Hermes just said to me.

Hermes continued, “Ask me why I can’t get back into the house.”

I gave him an irritated look and asked, “All right. Why can’t you get back into the house.”

“The new wards are a lot stronger than the old ones. I can almost see them with my naked eyes. And someone else put them up. Not Phobos. Do you understand what I am saying, Athena?”

The second time he said it, I did understand. “I do,” I said. I looked around at the gore in the room and said, “What a mess.”

Jason had backed into a corner, as far away from the blood as possible. Nike walked over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. He stared at her with glazed eyes. “I don’t want to know that she is still alive and in this condition,” he sobbed.

Nike gave him a small smile and said, “Jason, she is not alive. Demeter is dead. There is nothing left of her in this room.” He broke down in earnest, then, all of his anguish coming to the surface in huge sobs as grief for his lost wife struck him full force. The tears he cried washed the blood off his face to drip onto his already ruined clothes.

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For the rest of them, Ariadne stood statue straight as if she feared to move. Her husband Dionysus touched her arm and she flinched as if he punched her. Hercules, the strong man of myth, cried like a baby. Hebe, his diminutive wife, watched him from a stoic distance but didn’t attempt to offer the comfort he would have refused, anyway.

“Hermes,” I said, “You realize this is retribution for us invading their territory.” If that were true, then the punishment certainly didn’t fit the crime. “But, who saw us? Who knew we were in that house?” I could almost remember. Something tickled my brain, but I couldn’t grab the memory. It was as if I lost a huge chunk of time, again. Who was it?

“I don’t know. Maybe they simply followed the magic trail back to us,” Hermes said. Of course, Hermes was right. I could do it. Most of us in the room could do it. The metaphysical signature is something we take for granted and most of the time, we never think about it.

“Maybe they stood in this room with us while we planned,” Ares said. “Maybe they were here spying on us just like we spied on them.”

I whirled around to face him. “Did you feel anything?” I demanded to know.

He rolled his eyes and said, “I would have mentioned it, casually, if I did.” His voice was thick with sarcasm. “Use your head, Athena. I am not the enemy.”

“What are you hiding?” I asked him. “What is in your brain that you don’t want me to know?”

“I will tell you soon, but not now. Just know it is personal and has nothing to do with... this.” He waved a hand over the room. There was still anger in his voice, but he was correct. I didn’t have time to investigate what he was feeling at that moment. “So what is your first move?” he asked me, prodding me into action with the tone in his voice that implied I was going to do nothing.

“My first move is out of this room and into some clean clothes.”

“Are you going to call the police?” Ares asked me.

“No.” The suggestion was totally ludicrous. “We cleaned up our messes for ages without police interference and we will do so again. I need volunteers to clean this room.” See? I can be a leader when I have to be.

Hercules, the man who cleaned the Stables of Augeas in a single day as one of his legendary Labors, offered to clean the room. In her small voice, Hebe said, “I will clean the room, husband, for Athena will need you at her side when she joins the fray. A warrior’s skills are wasted on me.” The large man looked deeply into her eyes and then pulled her into a giant bear hug. It didn’t occur to me until several days later to ask Hebe where she put Demeter’s remains. Hebe gave me a small smile and said, “Olympus.” That was enough.

The matter settled, I left the room and sprinted up the stairs to the bathroom. Within seconds, I pulled the soiled clothing off and stood in the shower. I washed my hair and scrubbed my skin until it was raw, but I could still feel the hot blood and the spidery hair on me. Even when the water ran cold, I stayed in the shower hoping, as one does, to wash away memories. When, at length, I realized that wasn’t going to happen, I stepped from the shower and took the towel Ares proffered.

“Why are you here?” I asked him.

“To encourage you to hurry.” He was clean and his hair hung in wet ropes down his back. Ares wore black leather pants and a black vest. His arms and chest were bare. “It is time for battle, my queen.”

“Queen?” I asked him. “Not queen, unless you mean Battle Queen as my new title.”

“Are you? Are you finally angry enough to do something decisive?”

I gave him a look. “Are you implying that you orchestrated this most recent crime to goad me into action?”

I knew my statement was not true and I saw the moment of disbelief cross his face. Ares didn’t have as much control as he thought. That somehow pleased me. “Why is it important to you that I take action?” I asked. I knew my reasons for doing so, but I wanted to know his. Eli was foremost in my brain.

“You are replacing our father on the throne of Olympus, and you have to, by the Creator, act like it. You can’t prance around like you are the bloody Prom Queen who expects all her followers to just bow low before her and wait for her simplest command so they finally have something to do.”

“Go to hell, Ares,” I said in response to his theatrics.

“Get dressed, your majesty.” He said, matching my tone, perfectly. He stepped aside so I could exit the bathroom. Then he followed me into my bedroom. He waited while I found the clothes he had laid out for me. The uniform mimicked the clothes of the Amazon warriors that he was so fond of in ages past. There was a short brown leather skirt and a brown leather sleeveless top. It would grow chilly as the October night progressed, but the added bracers for the forearms and the greaves that fit over my low-heeled leather boots would help to cover me and keep the cold out. The bracers were intricately tooled leather as were the greaves. There, on the bed was my helmet that I wore when I was a goddess and the breastplate that Hephaestus forged. The steel breastplate was decorated with the head of the Medusa in the center and olive leaves around the edges, both burnished with gold. It was a pretty outfit, but hardly functional. I noted my spear was leaning against the wall.

“What is this?” I asked Ares.

“Your battle dress,” he replied.

“None of this will stop a bullet. I would be much better off if I were attired in Kevlar. Besides, that mini skirt is a drafty bit of tailoring.” I stared at him, defiantly and he held my gaze. Finally, I said, “I will wear it because I don’t own any Kevlar. But, if I get shot, I will hold you responsible.”

“Your breastplate has a Kevlar lining,” he said in a small voice.

“What? When?” I asked him, picking up the pieces of metal that would fit over my chest in the front and the back so my heart would be protected while fighting.

“Zeus had Hephaestus do it several weeks ago.”

“Several weeks ago? How do you know that? You were hiding on top of a mountain.”

“Zeus summoned me several weeks ago and we updated your armor. I didn’t know why he did it. I just followed his instructions and brought your livery to him. When Heph was finished, I returned it to your storage. How do you think I knew where to go to get it just a few minutes ago? If you look closely, the greaves and the bracers are also Kevlar lined.”

I examined my clothes more closely and saw that Ares was correct in what he said. The most important inference was that Zeus saw all of this coming and he knew I would need it. I sat on the bed, my bracers in one hand. “How did he know?” I asked no one in particular. Mostly myself. Was Zeus clairvoyant with all his other talents?

Ares answered, anyway. “You know he has always known things the rest of us don’t.”

“But, I never knew he could see into the future. I thought he was here and now like the rest of us.”

“Have you ever tried to see the future?”

“Actually, no. I just assumed it couldn’t be done. But Ares, we don’t have time for any metaphysical experiments today.”

“No, we don't,” he agreed.

So, like the heroes in the movies, I began dressing for the impending war. The first thing I did was braid my hair, tightly, to keep it out of my way. Tightly braiding wet hair is much easier than braiding dry. I pulled on some cotton bikini panties and a bra because leather rubbing against tender bits of flesh was uncomfortable at the best of times. Then I put on the skirt, the top, the bracers, the boots, and the greaves. I added two small throwing knives to the outside of the bracers and my sheath with the long knife that fit along my spine. I added another pair of throwing knives that fit on the inside of my thighs and were only just concealed by the short shirt. I added two more throwing knives to each of the greaves. A girl could never have too many weapons when she planned an evening of skirmishing.

The knives between the thighs irritated, so I moved them both more toward the front of my thighs. Their sheaths were snug enough that they wouldn’t fall when the action started.

Ares left a very nice present on the bed for me: A Glock 20. The handgun used 10mm rounds and would hold 15 rounds at a time in the magazine. The hand grip was a little big for my hand, but beggars can’t be choosers. I strapped the holster around my waist and holstered the gun. I liked the Glock because it had an auto-safety, which meant it was automatically off when the trigger was pulled and then was automatically back on as soon as the trigger was released. I put the three extra magazines in a pouch that hung from the belt. The weight of the gun riding on top of my hip felt surprisingly nice and comforting.

One more item: A steel sword that was popular in the late middle ages. It was a two-handed sword with the handle wrapped in thin strips of leather, giving the wielder a better grip. The blade was shorter than a Claymore, but then, I was too short to successfully carry a longsword. And, because most of our fighting was to be inside a house, a Claymore would only get in the way. This one had been specially made. It had a sheath that would allow me to carry it across my back. This weapon was more to my liking than my long knife. I removed the knife and added the breastplates that Ares helped me tie into place with the leather thongs. Then, I strapped the sword to my spine where the knife had been. I was ambidextrous and could fight with a sword equally as well right-handed or left, so the placement wasn’t critical. The gun I kept on the right side because it required hand-and-eye coordination of a different type than the swords and I wasn’t as comfortable with it as I was with the more ancient weapons.

My braid was the last thing I dealt with. I twisted it around until it was like a crown and secured it with lengths of polished wood that resembled chopsticks. Also, in a pinch, the hairpins could be used as weapons.

I took a few moments to braid Ares’s hair because long loose hair can be a hindrance when the fighting starts.

I left the steel helmet on the bed but grabbed my spear as I exited the room.

Once back downstairs, I avoided looking into the dining room and walked straight into the living room. Everyone, except Hebe, was present and in varying states of readiness. I didn’t care. I looked at Hermes and said, “Take us to the clearing where everyone waited earlier.”

“Wait,” Ares said with a hand on Hermes’s elbow to stop him. “Athena, what is your plan?” Ares asked.

“My plan? My plan is simple, god of war. I am going to that house and tear it apart, board by board until I find Eli and Bill. Then, I am going to level the house, turning it into nothing but dust. If anyone is in the house, they are suspects, and therefore, they will die. Period. No trial. No second chances. Everyone in that house is guilty of something horrible, even if they didn’t kill Demeter or the boys in the mall or the other eleven victims.” I looked at each of my followers and the seven people seemed like a tiny army. I knew they would give me their best, and I hoped that we could prevail over the bad guys.

Hercules carried a bow and a quiver of arrows. He was an archery master and because of his strength, he could send arrows much farther than anyone else, ever. His bow was one of those modern types with all the gears, but his arrows were normal hunting arrows with barbed ends that would do much more damage coming out than going in. They wouldn’t kill an immortal, but they would certainly stop them for a few minutes. He was also armed with a sword and at least two knives that I could see. Most of our fighting would probably be inside and the bow and arrows would be ineffective in there.

Hermes wore a simple loin cloth and carried his caduceus so that he could channel and enhance metaphysical energy. Hermes didn’t fight with conventional weapons.

Dionysus was a lover, not a fighter, but he chose a modern weapon for this action. He carried a Browning Mark III, a high-powered handgun.

Ariadne, his wife, carried a shotgun. It was a good weapon to have when you weren’t that experienced with fighting. She simply needed to aim in the general direction she wanted to shoot and pull the trigger.

Jason, with a look of sheer anger on his face, strapped a sword to his waist and held a spear in his hands. Jason was not happy that his wife was dead and his bitterness alone would make him a formidable warrior. He had strong reasons for wanting the people in the house dead. He carried a pair of handguns and a rifle strapped to his back. Many people would die tonight at Jason’s hand.

Nike’s chief weapon was victory. If Nike fought on your side, your side would win. Period. It was one of her metaphysical aspects. Because Nike stood beside me, sword in hand, I felt better about entering the house.

Last was Ares. He followed me down the stairs and picked up a sword that looked similar to mine. He strapped on a handgun. It was in a holster so I couldn’t tell precisely what kind of weapon it was. Ares was a master of every weapon, ancient and modern, plus he was a master of several forms of hand-to-hand combat. He looked bright-eyed and excited. Ares was finally in his element.

This war wouldn’t change the world as a whole, but it would certainly change my world. The bad guys kidnapped my husband and a human that I felt honor-bound to protect, and they would, by Zeus or by the devil himself, pay for their crime.

I said to Hermes, “Let’s do it.”