Page 154 of A Touch of Chaos

Dread pooled low in Dionysus’s stomach. It was possible the smell came from the decaying body of the ophiotaurus, but even he knew that was wishful thinking. Something else had happened here.

Something terrible.

He exchanged a look with the sheep, who still lingered nearby. The animal opened its mouth, bleating loudly before turning to lead him into the thick of the forest. Though he did not think he needed an escort to return to the cyclops’s cave, following the creature provided some comfort as they navigated the dense terrain and rocky mountainside. All the while, the smell of rot grew worse and worse.

Dionysus had never thought long on the power of a smell, but this was like walking into a solid wall, and no matter how hard he pushed against it, it never moved. It just sat in the air, coating his clothes and stinging his nose.

By the time they made it to the mouth of the cyclops’s cave, his eyes were watering, his nose was dripping, and he thought that at any moment, he would vomit, but he had found the source of the smell.

It was not just the ophiotaurus that lay within, rotting.

The cyclops was too.

Polyphemus.

His graying form lay like a mountain near the spring Dionysus had turned to wine. Hesitantly, he approached, one arm drawn over his nose, not that it could keep the smell at bay. Still, he wondered what had happened to the creature. He seemed to be in the same position as before, when he had passed out in his drunken state,except as Dionysus rounded the creature’s shoulder, he found that his eye was stabbed through with a spear.

The cyclops had been murdered.

Dionysus peered into the darkness, wondering who had carried out the attack, though they seemed to be long gone by now. Perhaps the old man who had asked him to perform the execution had followed and finished the job. Whatever the case, he wondered what sort of curse would haunt the person who left him unburied.

Dionysus moved past the cyclops and made his way farther into the cave, suffocated by the scent of death, until he found Bully’s remains.

He stood in mournful silence, thinking about how the creature had protected Ariadne. Though a monster with a serpent body and the head of a bull, he was a harmless creature who was more frightened than violent. Still, the Fates had assigned him a terrible destiny, but that was their nature: cruelty.

After a few seconds, he knelt and began to dig, using a sharp rock to make a trench beside Bully’s body. When it was deep enough, he took the creature by the horns, hoping to pull his entire body into the pit, but he was so decomposed, only half of him made it, and Dionysus was forced to push what remained into the grave with his foot.

It was terrible, and the smell never lessened.

When he was finished, he covered the creature with a bed of soil. It was all he could manage before he raced from the mouth of the cave and vomited.

It was there as he bent with his hands on his knees that something struck him from behind, and he had the thought that his head was going to explode right before he lost consciousness. Again.

CHAPTER XXIX

PERSEPHONE

Persephone sat in her favorite chair in the library. A fire blazed in the hearth, and Cerberus, Typhon, and Orthrus slept nearby while she read—or tried to. Despite the peace of the evening, she could not shake the thought that something bad was happening. The feeling blossomed in her chest and grew into her throat, worsening as each quiet second ticked by.

Something wet splashed on her leg.

At first, she did not pay it any mind, thinking that perhaps she had imagined it, but then she felt a second drop.

She put her book down, expecting to see Orthrus standing near drooling on her, but he wasn’t. All the dogs remained asleep before the fireplace.

Persephone frowned and then felt another splash, this time on her face. She wiped at the wetness, and as she pulled her hand back, she noticed her fingers were stained with crimson.

Strange, she thought.

When another drop fell, she looked up and went cold when she saw that the ceiling was saturated in red, and she knew it was blood. It pooled in places and then fell in heavy drops to the floor and glided down the walls.

Her heart started to race. Panic bubbled inside her.

She shot to her feet, only to wake and find that she was in bed beside Hades. There was no blood, just the cold silk of their bedding.

She took a breath and shoved the blankets aside, slipping from bed. Despite the fire in the hearth, the air was cool, and she shivered, her skin pebbling.

She crossed to Hades’s bar and poured herself a glass of whiskey, but just as she brought it to her lips, his voice ignited in the dark.

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