Bill moved off the bed and rubbed Hermes’s furry head with a hand. Hermes, still in the chair, nuzzled Bill’s thigh. They made an odd pair—Bill skinny, tall at six foot eleven, and the pig that was only about as tall as his knee. But, somehow, the two together seemed incredibly right.

Eli vanished from the room and when I heard the shower running a few moments later, I knew where he had spirited off to. I stood in the middle of the room because I was still covered in Perseis’s and Enyo’s blood and didn’t want to ruin the linens on the bed or the chair.

Ares relaxed, almost casually, against the dresser, half sitting on the top of it. The detritus of war still covered his clothing, too. Ares had dispatched several people before meeting Phobos on the killing field and he wore the brands to prove it.

I plunged directly into the matter at hand. “Bill, Phobos is guilty of a lot of things, but he isn’t responsible for the deaths of the eleven people or the kids in the mall. We have been chasing the wrong target. Phobos hinted, but didn’t actually say it was Circe who did it.”

I watched the emotions play across his face. Shock. Disbelief. Horror. “How can that be?” He rubbed a hand through his disarrayed hair.

“I told you Phobos was responsible and you believed me. I was wrong, Bill. Phobos did kill people in his house—a place that is nothing but rubble right now—but he didn’t kill the others. I have him and his gang trussed up like fowl ready for the oven.”

I told Bill what Phobos and Enyo told me.

“Dammit!” Bill said with more feeling than I thought possible. “We are back to where we started.” He stood and paced the short distance across the bedroom a couple of times and then said, “Dammit!” again. “Are you sure about this, Athena?”

“Yes, I am.”

“You believe him? Do you believe Phobos?”

“Phobos is a killer, not a liar.”

“So, what, you gave him a lie detector test?”

“Bill, listen to me. There was no reason for Phobos to lie about this.”

“Yes, there is if he thinks it will save his life,” Bill argued.

“He’s not worried about dying,” I told Bill. “The idea of godhood has fully taken him over.”

Bill rubbed his hand through his hair several more times as if that action could stimulate his brain. “Who, then?” Bill asked me.

“According to Phobos and Enyo, it is someone with—how did she put it? A far darker spirit than mine, Enyo said. It is someone Phobos fears. I wouldn’t have thought the god of terror would fear anything.”

“Can you make any guesses?” Bill persisted.

“The last time I guessed, I was totally wrong.” The frown Bill pointed at me indicated I looked as miserable as I felt.

Bill took a deep breath and then said, “So, we need to figure out who scares Phobos. Aaron, you got any ideas?”

When he addressed Ares as Aaron, it took me a moment to realize who he meant. In my head, Ares was still Ares. My brother answered, “The only thing that scares me besides a woman who is in love with me, are some of the Titans, who are now Zeus’s prisoners. It is likely the same for Phobos. But, if Phobos’s hints are right and it is Circe, then maybe she has increased her power, like our Athena. If that has happened, Circe will be a very dangerous person and one who is very hard to catch. I don’t like this.” He took a deep breath and then said, “Bitch broke my ribs.” He rubbed the spot where she kicked him while he was still in pig form.

I felt my frown deepen with the headache that always followed me after a battle. I wonder if it is the same for all adrenalin junkies. Do they all get that brain crushing ache after the adrenalin has done its job? If that is the case, why would anyone place themselves in that position?

Eli popped back into the room and asked, “What did I miss?” His long, long red hair was wet, but not dripping. A towel wrapped around his waist kept me from seeing the damage Circe inflicted on him. He sported a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing a normal battle wouldn’t give him. He didn’t move like any of the minor injuries hurt him. Still, I hated to see anything mar that beautiful alabaster skin.

“Just giving Bill a recap of the events of the day,” I said to Eli. Bill looked troubled and Ares' face was a mask of fear.

Eli nodded and then asked, “Who’s next in the shower? I left some hot water.”

“I am next,” I said. “Come with me, Eli.” I held my hand out to him and in an instant, the two of us stood in the bathroom he had just vacated. “How are your wounds?” I asked him.

“Healing. Circe’s intention was to unman me, giving me a taste of what she suffered for all those years. You showed up in the nick of time. Just like the cavalry. She wasn’t quick about what she was doing. She took me, tiny pieces at a time.” He closed the lid to the toilet and sat down. “Little Eli is still damaged, but healing,” he said with a crooked grin.

I reached toward him and he held me away with a hand. “No comforting hugs until you remove the blood of war. You smell as bad as you look and you look very, very bad.” The expression on his face was sweet and he softened his words with, “I’ll wait.”

He was, of course, correct. I wore the blood of the fallen like a badge and it had to be removed. It seemed undressing took longer than dressing did, but the bloody greaves and bracers soon hit the floor, followed by my boots. I leaned the breastplate against the wall and then wiggled out of my leather skirt that had grown stiff with dried blood. Eli untied the laces that held my top in place and it joined the skirt on the floor. Everything needed to be cleaned and the blood may never come out.

I turned on the taps and for the second time that day, I washed other people’s blood down the drain. I didn’t linger in the shower that was rapidly growing colder because urgent business and important decisions waited for me.

Eli met me with a towel and folded it around me. As he held me, for those precious moments, I said, “Hermes can heal you.” I eased out of his embrace to examine the damage Circe and war had inflicted on him.

I traced a finger over his bruised cheekbone, the dark purple rings around his wrists, a gash on his left thigh, one across his left side just above the hip bone, and another that creased his shoulder blade. He didn’t simply submit to his daughter’s ministrations. Eli fought her and was rewarded with several wounds. Without blood covering the soft red curls at his groin, I could see the damage Circe inflicted. Her cuts tended to be vertical as if she wanted to slice him to ribbons.

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“Hermes can’t heal wounds inflicted by magic,” Eli said in a quiet voice.

“What do you mean, by magic?”

“Circe intended her castration to be permanent. Her blade was enchanted. This will have to heal normally.” He waved a hand vaguely toward his groin.

It was my turn to sit on the toilet seat. I suddenly felt too weak to stand. “Eli, are you sure it will heal at all?”

“It has already begun healing. I feel far less pain now.” My husband smiled at me, albeit a small, sad smile. “Athena, it will heal. Just human slow. It will be weeks before I am fully functional, I think.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist, careful not to touch his tender damaged flesh. The world went away in those few fragile moments when I held him close to me. It would have contented me to stay in the bathroom for a hundred years, but I had other pressing matters. Eli caressed my wet hair and I pulled away from him. “I suppose we should get some clothes on.” He bent down to kiss my lips. A serene touching of the lips to prove we were still in love.

The moment passed too quickly and reality once again stood in place of serenity. As soon as I was on my feet, we appeared in the bedroom we shared with Bill and Ares. Clean jeans were spread on the bed for Eli and me and a shirt apiece. Ares watched my reaction to his clothing choices. Few would guess the god of war had a penchant for fashion. Mine was a long sleeved blue tee shirt with a screen print of a dark forest and a bright yellow-white moon peeking between bare branches. It reminded me a little too much of the forest around Phobos’s house, but I put on the shirt anyway. My leather sandals waited beside the bed. Eli’s shirt had a screen print of Einstein with very wild hair and the caption underneath the image said, “Chicks dig me.” His jeans were large and loose enough to not constrict newly mangled flesh.

Ares, Bill, and Hermes vanished from the room, giving Eli and me privacy to dress. Discreetly, I watched Eli dress. His movements were stiff and painful, although he hid it well. It pained my heart to see him in such agony, but I knew he wouldn’t appreciate my sympathy. Eli was a man of action.

Eli and I left the bedroom door open and walked down the stairs. Bill waited in the living room and Hermes sat on the floor beside Bill’s feet. Bill rose and offered me his chair. He moved to one of the loveseats and Hermes jumped up there beside him. Eli sat on the other loveseat. Of Ares, there was no sign, so presumably, it was his turn in the shower.

“You are the cop, Bill,” I preambled. “What do we do now?”

“I turned in my badge, remember? I am not a cop anymore.”

“Cap will dispute that, I think.”

“Cap will be pissed as hell when he finds out we were chasing the wrong guy. He will be even more pissed when I tell him I can’t go back to being a cop like I was before.”

“Why not?” I asked him.

“I have seen a different world, Athena. You moved me into your reality and I just can’t go back to the way I used to be. I know I’m not a god or anything, but I am more than human, now. I can’t use my power without you, Eli, and Aaron.”

I nodded understanding him, completely. We changed Bill on a level deep inside. He was more. He was other. I dragged him into this, not realizing I would forever change Bill’s métier. But, he still had vast knowledge I could tap into. ”Ok. You still remember how cops think. What should we do next?”

“You got Phobos on ice. Get him to talk. He knows who did the crime. We just have to convince him to tell us.”

“This brings me to another problem. What do we do with them? There isn’t a jail on Earth that can hold them. Where do I put Phobos to keep him away from the rest of society?” I asked.

“You’re not going to execute him?” Bill asked. The cop that still lived inside was clearly puzzled.

I shook my head. “The people he killed made the choice to follow him.”

“And that makes it all right? I don’t care why you kill people, if you kill people, you are a freaking killer.” Bill’s voice rose several decibels.

“In Olympian society, if a person chooses to follow you, then that person belongs to you and you have the right to do what you want with them. If the choice was freely made, then that person belongs to you. We may not practice that too much anymore, but it has always been that way. That arrangement had benefits, too. It is the responsibility of the leader to take care of those in their charge. They provide food, clothing, and shelter, of course, and they also provide caring, support, and love. And as the owner of others, you have the right to punish with impunity.”

Bill shook his head. “This is my society and we don’t own people. No slavery, here. You can’t just kill anyone because they worship you. Holy Hannah, why would anyone want to follow any of you guys if you can just waste them anytime you get ready?” Bill slapped the arm of the chair with the flat of his hand, to show his irritation. He stood up and pointed his long, skinny finger in my face. “Those guys are murderers and they deserve to die for their crimes.” I wondered if Bill heard his own contradiction.

“Bill, Phobos isn’t mine and neither are his followers. I can’t simply kill him without risking a full-on war between his people and mine. We are sturdy warriors, but there aren’t enough of us to wage a real war with anyone.”

Ares returned to the living room wearing a pair of black jeans. His feet were bare and he was shirtless. He dried his long black hair with a fluffy white towel.

Bill said. “I can’t tell who the good guys are, anymore.” His gaze took in each of us in turn.

I asked everyone in the room, “What is the most remote island on this planet?”

“Hawaii,” Ares replied. Humor? From Ares?

“I don’t think putting Phobos and his gang in Hawaii is a good idea, although, strictly speaking, you answered the question. I need to know a place where I can put them so they cannot escape. An island that can be magically obscured from the eyes of the world and the eyes of technology.”

Hermes said amid grunts and snorts from his snout, “I know a place about 900 miles south of Honolulu and northwest of Easter Island. A small island, about one mile by one mile, which is owned by the United States, although they have forgotten about it. It has water and food trees and a protected lagoon. It is completely uninhabited because it is owned by a guano firm that deemed it too out of the way to be commercially viable. Sea captains avoid it because there are some barely submerged rocks around it. The Island is called Sarah Anne. Life will be hard, but not impossible.”

“Sounds perfect,” I said.

Could I condemn my prisoners to a tiny island in the Pacific? For much the same reasons Zeus imprisoned the Titans who wanted to destroy humans altogether, I could and would imprison those of my kind who destroyed lives on a smaller scale. Yes, the people who followed them did so of their own free will, but they were deceived by promises Phobos made to them. They were people who loved to be terrified and dominated. Adrenaline junkies of a different sort. However, in current society, it wasn’t proper to kill those who followed you.

So, the philosophical question remains. Can I condemn those who are doing what I have done in the past? The answer is a resounding yes, although I will always wonder if I did the right thing.

“The first order of business is to move the prisoners. Second, a visit to Zeus so he can change you, Hermes, back to your old self, and then we start a serious investigation of who actually committed the murders.”

Bill shook his head and said, “Athena, you may be a great leader, but you are a lousy cop.” Huh? Great leader?

“So how would you do this?” I asked him, I asked him without bothering to hide my irritation.

“Find out who killed those people, move everyone to your little island, then visit Zeus.”

“Zeus can wait,” Hermes said. “I am fine in this form for now.”

So, we had a plan, of sorts. Funny, how I just keep making decisions on the fly. But, then, I haven’t been the leader of Zeus’s splinter group long enough to make any real plan for the future. I was simply putting out fires.

The fires had grown bigger and more numerous. I needed to know why Ares walked around with a chip the size of a mountain on his shoulder. I needed to know why Nike was angry with me, although I had seen only a glimpse of that. I needed Eli to be healed and whole, again. I needed Hermes in human form. I needed to integrate Bill more fully into my world and he needed to learn what to do with his newly found power. I needed to fully explore my own power. I needed to interrogate Phobos and all of his cronies. I needed to imprison them on an island and then make that island disappear from the eyes of men. I needed to know who was behind murdering eleven people and the boys in the mall.

My to-do list was long and convoluted.

Damn you Bill for coming to me with this situation to me begin with.

Damn you Zeus for putting me in this position of leadership.

I simply wanted to go to the valley in the Caucasus and watch it regrow for about ten years. I simply wanted to watch the horses gallop and fly around their lake. I wanted peace, serenity, and a simple life.

That life would have to wait. For now, I had more pressing business.