Page 62 of Patron of Mercy

Hephaestus snorted into his goblet at that, but he didn’t say anything.

“I’m not saying you should forgive, or that it makes you a better person to do it. I’m saying that forgiving him doesn’t make you the problem here. It’s still—it’s always—him.”

Hephaestus closed his eyes and let his head fall back, and for a moment, he just breathed. His eyes were clearer when he opened them, and he looked hard at Thanatos. “You’re looking for it. The scythe.”

Thanatos nodded.

“Why? Are you planning to free Cronus?” Disturbingly enough, he didn’t look horrified at the idea, more like thoughtful. Thanatos wondered when Zeus had pushed his son so far that he would entertain the notion of freeing Cronus.

The room was silent for a moment, both considering the ramifications of the question, and the concept. Finally, Thanatos shook his head. “No. He was worse, believe it or not. Demeter has broken her promise to humanity, and crops are failing to take. We need it to ensure a harvest.”

“You’re making sure there’s not a famine?” Hephaestus asked, one eyebrow raised.

Thanatos looked away for a second, but shrugged and looked back, determined. “It’s the right thing to do, and I’d be doing it even if it weren’t. We do funny things for love.”

That brought out a smile. Hephaestus looked at a pair of filigreed golden wings hanging on his wall, a sad sort of nostalgia in his eyes. They were stunning, and no doubt, a gift from his one-time wife, Aphrodite. If anyone knew about falling in love outside of their comfort zone, it was Hephaestus. Thanatos would have to remember that if he ever needed advice.

Hephaestus nodded and turned back to him. “It won’t stay down. It keeps pushing its way back up. I can feel it there, like a splinter that’s almost worked its way free. For now, it’s only making the shoreline bleed. If the wrong person gets their hands on it though...”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“Be careful, my friend,” Hephaestus told him, voice soft and gentle, as he stood and set his goblet on the table. “The things you’re involving yourself in are dangerous. The hatred between father and son is bad enough. Love can make the most painful wound, intentionally or not.”

And with that, he left Thanatos alone in his dining area and went back to his forge.

For a Fresh Start

Lach and his friend—andThanatos—knew about the scythe.

Martina sat on the edge of her bed, staring at a wall.

Thanatos.

There was no way, was there? Sure, he was incredibly handsome and had an uncanny ability to wear a black suit in the desert without looking uncomfortable, but could the man actually betheThanatos?

And if he were Thanatos, what was he doing hanging out with a reprobate like Lach? Marty liked Lach, but he wasn’t exactly the target market for the god of merciful death.

That was a continuing problem, though. Marty liked Lach.

She’d read the texts. She knew that to raise Cronus, they would need an immortal vessel. It was Lach’s destiny, to be the container for the king of the titans.

From childhood, she had been taught to look forward to the rebirth of the Father. He would arise, put down those who had wronged him, and make the whole unjust world right. The brotherhood’s writings were vague about what it meant to put the world right, but given how things were shaping up, Marty wouldn’t mind if it meant wiping the face of the planet clean and starting over.

A fresh start sounded nice.

For that to happen, Lach had to be sacrificed. It hurt a little. He was one of the few beings who might deserve better. She certainly didn’t.

She stood and shook herself free of the doubt that tried to drag her down, struggling to breathe. It was obvious from the fresco, and from Lach and Thanatos’s reaction to it, what had happened. She didn’t need to check any archives.

Some two thousand years ago, long after the volcanic episode that had forced Santorini to be evacuated, two new islands had pushed their way out of the ocean in the middle of the caldera.

The eldest of the two islands, Palea Kameni, was still smaller than its sister isle, and little grew there.

It was the scythe. Damn Zeus had left the scythe there, maybe even caused the volcanic eruption that had buried the island, and it was trying to make its way back to the surface.

It would rise, and they would use it to help the Father take his rightful place.

She shuddered but made herself pull out her phone to call her brother. He would screw everything up again, so she had to make him understand that she could handle things.

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