Pitchfork Read online

  After they had carved the marks in their blood, Zeus, Poseidon, and Medusa wandered into the shadows to wait, giving husband and wife their last moments together in peace. Neither of them said much. Instead, Hades clung to Alkaios, her body pressed as close to his as their skin would allow. They had remained entwined as one in the gloom, and none dared disturb them save the sun who cared not what her rays brought upon them. At her ever-growing presence, the darkness fled to give way to murky light, and Alkaios knew he had to leave his bride as bait. With pain scorching every fiber of his being, he pulled back, and Hades began to sob, repeating “no” over and over into his solid chest.

  “I will love you always,” Alkaios said as he caught her tears with his thumbs and kissed her; a kiss filled with passion and all the words he did not have time to speak. He kissed her fiercely, lips pressed against hers in a desperate hunger, and then with a roar, Alkaios tore his body away and spun on his heels. He fled into the darkness to take up his post, unable to turn around to look at Hades’ broken face. Alkaios had felt how hard her chest convulsed. If he saw it, he would not have the strength to do what was necessary. He would let the Old Ones overthrow the world to stop his wife’s heart from shattering.

  Hades had stood convulsing in the new day’s sun and watched Alkaios retreat into the shadows. The gods were watching her, but she could not bring herself to care. She just hovered before the temple’s entrance. Sobs wracked her lungs until she was barely able to breathe, but eventually, the pain of her tears became too much, and Hades heaved air until she could no longer stand erect. It took long, painful moments, but she finally wiped her eyes and calmed her heart before taking up the pitchfork to stand as solid as the temple at her back.

  The sun now stood overhead as Hades exhaled one last deep breath in the silence. Twisting the weapon in her fist, air rushed from her lungs in a steady wave. With her exhale, black smoke seeped from her skin. It ebbed and flowed, moving and stretching around her. The tentacles branched out and crept through the breeze like tongues tasting the day. They weaved and churned, growing vast around her body, and slowly Hades shut her eyes. They remained closed as her heart steadied, and then without warning, they snapped open. Gone were her intoxicating blue irises, and in their stead peered two onyx pits. They had found her. They were coming.

  A weighted moment passed, tense as the Olympians crouched hidden, watching darkness seep from Hades’ every pore. They waited with bated breath, daring to hope the Old Ones would heed the call of their long-lost daughter. Hades stood at the center of the trap, eyes black as death, body humming with power. She remained entirely motionless save the ebb and flow of her darkness, and just when it seemed her call would go unanswered, the mountain trembled.

  Hades’ gaze snapped to the sound, her head cocked in anticipation, and for the first time, her sight fell upon her own. A hoard of deformed gods rounded the bend, a tall, muscular monster with rows of razor teeth leading them. From their cover, Zeus and Poseidon exchanged a weighted glance as the huge, black muscles stalked Hades. She seemed not to notice or even fear him as they approached and allowed the fanged god to circle her like a lion stalking a lamb.

  “The first have come,” Hades said, her tone low and dark as it washed over the crowd.

  “And we seek the last,” came a haggard voice. All eyes turned to an elderly woman who separated herself from the hoard. Unlike her monstrous brethren, she was relatively normal save for the third eye that sprouted in the middle of her wrinkled forehead. Her grey hair was braided down her back, and she stood tall and upright despite her age.

  “My child,” she said, reaching out gnarled fingers to the queen of the Underworld. “Come to me and let me look upon our salvation.”

  Hades, with an almost imperceptible flick of her eyes, looked to the blood runes but made no motion to move. Alkaios followed her gaze and knew that if Hades went to the woman, the carving in the ground would be useless. He held his breath, praying to who he did not know, that his wife would remain in control long enough to spring the trap.

  The two women, one gray and haggard and the other an impossibly beautiful midnight, stood staring at each other, neither willing to move. In a sudden flash of unearthly speed, Hades shot out and slammed the fanged god with the pitchfork, terminating his prowl and hurtling him into the temple’s wall. The stone erupted around his body, and he crashed to the ground with a thud. The Old Ones lunged forward but halted just as quickly as they had started before the blood runes, and Alkaios sucked in a harsh yet silent breath.

  Unfazed, Hades shifted backward and settled on a boulder of debris, resting her bident across her legs. Her play for the upper hand was clear; unlike the Olympians, she would not be so easily defeated, and if the Old Ones wished to look upon her, they would have to come to her, come within the blood lines.

  The elderly god stood for a silent moment staring down the raven-haired beauty whose smooth skin seeped black and chuckled.

  “Much like your father, you are,” she said and stepped to Hades. She was inside the trap, and the rest only had to follow.

  Alkaios watched with bated breath in the anxious stillness of his camouflage as one by one the deformed gods strode past the blood runes. The last only needed to toe the line, and the trap could ignite, yet as the Old Ones closed in on their bait, a thought nagged at Alkaios’ brain. A voice whispered in his mind too faint to understand, but something about this scene unsettled him. Something was missing, and he dug deep searching for the reason that teased him. Silently, Alkaios shifted his weight to view the throng, the maimed gods blotting out his wife, and he studied their grotesque forms, grasping at the wisp of alarm seeping through his skull.

  Suddenly as if Alkaios had been hit by Poseidon’s storms, it dawned on him. The realization sent an icy jolt down his spine, and his eyes snapped to the crowd making their way within the trap. He searched each god and knew with a sinking gut, his initial reaction had rung true. Black inky tentacles seeped from his skin, and silently, Alkaios vanished.

  A moment later, his body landed next to Zeus’ hidden post, and before the king of the gods could grunt his alarm, Alkaios shot a calloused palm over Zeus’ mouth to smother his surprise.

  “The horned god,” Alkaios whispered. “The one whose shadow we saw on Mount Olympus… he is not here.” Slowly, Alkaios peeled his fingers from Zeus’ lips, and Zeus flashed him a hostile glare before straining his neck to scan the crowd. After a moment, Zeus pulled back behind the stone, and a flicker of concern sprouted in his eyes.

  “They are not all here,” Alkaios continued in a hushed tone. “We cannot ignite the trap unless they are all here.”

  “Do not be foolish,” Zeus snapped in a voice that reached only Alkaios’ ears. “These gods are almost within the runes. We cannot let them escape our grasp.”

  “And if we trap them now, while there are others not on this mountain, our element of surprise will be gone. We can only use Hades as bait once. They will not fall for it again, and you witnessed the power of that horned beast on Olympus. If there is one god we need to take unaware, it is he. If we ambush his brethren, he will know we are coming, and I do not carry hope we can survive a direct onslaught from him.”

  “And how much longer will it be before your wife is not bait for them, but for us? We stick to the plan. We trap these gods, and then we worry about Olympus.”

  “Zeus,” came a soft whisper, and both men jerked to attention to find Athena, her body huddled behind a mass of debris, but her eyes were not on them but transfixed on the spot ahead of her only just visible through the cracks. Alkaios followed her line of sight and therefore was completely unaware that Zeus had launched himself into the crowd with an ear-piercing roar until it was too late.

  Hades let the three-eyed god take her cheeks in her gnarled hands. The elder turned her face side to side to study her flawless skin, and Hades felt the surge of familial power in the touch. She recognized this old woman; she had stumbled over her lifeless body in her
visions. It was these fingers who had tied the Old Ones’ lives to Hades. It was her prophecy that had resurrected her ancestors.

  “So like your mother you are,” the three-eyed god crooned softly, “impossibly beautiful, yet it is your father’s strength you wield. We could not allow him to rise after his betrayal. His death was permanent, and it seems you inherited his power. Such greatness was in him, and now I sense it in you. It would seem he willed you more than his pitchfork.” She looked down at the weapon draped across Hades’ lap.

  At her glance, Hades tightened her grip around the pitchfork and pulled her face from the gnarled grasp. Her eyes flicked to the edge of the clearing and saw the last Old One cross the blood lines. Her back stiffened ever so slightly, bracing for the power the trap would unleash, yet the stillness in the air held.

  Desperate not to call attention to her movements, Hades stood and stepped backward, using the momentum to throw a subtle glance to where Alkaios hid. Why had he not moved? She knew he would hesitate, but this was taking too long.

  “The king is most eager for you to return to the fold,” the ancient goddess continued, and Hades shifted her gaze back to the older woman and froze. Behind her silver hair, an Old One, who was more monster than man, stooped over. His thumb gouged the dirt in front of the debris that concealed Zeus. Hades stiffened, and her fingers flinched, longing to lash out and stop him. He was brushing the soil where a blood rune had bled into the stain, and if he broke its shape, the trap would never hold.

  “It’s a…” the beast began, but before he could utter the rest of his warning, a roar of sheer power split the air, and Zeus launched from his concealment and slammed into the monster’s chest.

  “Now!” Zeus cried as they hurtled to the ground, muscled bodies carving dents in the rubble as they crashed. The Olympians wasted not a single moment, and in a heartbeat, they stood before their blood runes. Their weapons plummeted into the stained dirt, igniting a deafening hum in the air as power sprang from the earth.

  “Do it now!” Zeus said as he rolled onto his feet, brandishing the thunderbolt. The deformed gods were closing in on him, but the trap would not contain them for long. “Poseidon!” he begged as he brought down his weapon in the head of an Old One.

  “Hold!” Poseidon bellowed, stretching out his palm in a steadying motion. Zeus was within the runes, and Poseidon watched in horror as his brother was forced further and further from safe ground. “Brother, get out of there!”

  All chaos broke loose. The Old Ones bore down on Zeus, and despite his power, he would not survive long. Hesitating for only a moment to contemplate if it was worth tipping her hand and revealing her true alliance, Hades stepped forward, but only made it a foot when the pitchfork violently wrenched from her grasp. Shocked, she looked up to see Alkaios rushing headlong after Zeus, fist outstretched. He shook his head ‘no’ as their eyes met, commanding her to remain neutral as the weapon flew into his palm, and with one mighty swing, crashed it into the skull of a monster closing in on Zeus.

  Hades heard a hiss behind her, and from the darkness of the temple, Medusa erupted. Her massive tail whipped savagely as she dove into the fray. Well acquainted with her kind, the first gods barely flinched at her assault, beating her back with little effort, concentrating instead on the surrounded kings fighting for their lives.

  Alkaios reached Zeus and spun, planting his back to the king and covering his flank. The Old Ones paused for a moment at the sight of the pitchfork in the hand of another god, and without questioning the small reprieve, Alkaios seized Zeus by the wrist and shoved black smoke from his body. The bident vibrated in his fingers, and he knew Hades was funneling power to him. With a roar and an explosion of a raw, dark force, they vanished to reappear outside the shimmering energy of the trap.

  “Now!” bellowed Zeus as he met Hades’ eyes. She stiffened and clenched her eyelids. Zeus’ heart lurched in pain at her fear, but he slammed the thunderbolt into the ground above a blood rune and poured power out of his soul to unleash the ambush.

  XIX

  Nothing happened. The air fell still; all the power drained into oblivion. Hades and Zeus snapped their eyes open at the same time, their gazes landing on one another before searching for the reason the ambush failed. Standing with a gnarled hand raised above her head, the three-eyed god clenched her fist as if she were strangling the neck of an enemy. Hades watched the faint shimmer of power wane, strangled in her grip, and Hades knew this goddess had seized the trap in her hand and destroyed it. For a moment, both generations of gods stood frozen, and the bitter bile of fear ran up Hades’ throat.

  “Seize them,” the three-eyed god commanded, and before the Olympians even thought to move, the Old Ones lunged forward and grasped them with savage power, forcing them to their knees. Alkaios, Zeus, and Poseidon struggled fiercely, and their combined force separated an Old One from the crowd. They offered him no mercy, and as Alkaios and Poseidon held him still, Zeus decapitated him.

  A roar echoed off the mountain as the monster’s lifeless body crumpled to the dirt, and a deformed god with a mallet larger than a man burst from the fray. He barreled down on the Olympians and swung his weapon at Poseidon’s legs. With a crack, Poseidon’s muscled limbs gave way, and the god of the seas collapsed with an agonizing explosion of pain. The beast wasted no time, and before either of the greats could react, the mallet smashed into Alkaios’ ribcage.

  The fracture of his ribs was so loud, Hades felt it in her chest. She stifled a cry, breath escaping her lungs in erratic pants. Tears flooded her eyes, and she blinked rapidly before her ancestors could see her weakness. Alkaios groaned in tortured agony, and Hades longed to go to him, to kill every last monster before her, but the tables had turned. The Olympians no longer had the upper hand. She had to remain silent. If Hades tipped her hand now, and they discovered she was merely bait, this ploy would never work again. Even as a third sickening thud rang through the air, and Zeus’ strong voice screamed, she was not sure they would ever have another chance at catching these first gods unaware.

  Hades’ chest heaved as she witnessed the three greats of Olympus sprawled on the ground. Poseidon’s legs jutted out beneath him at unnatural angles, and Alkaios clutched his side where blood seeped from concave bones. Hades gagged at the sight, and Alkaios caught her gaze, pain watering his eyes. Without realizing, she began to move toward her husband. Hades did not care. She would die with him rather than watch them torture him.

  “Kill them,” came the three-eyed god’s voice, and Hades froze in her tracks. The elder commanded her ancestors with an evil that not even the Underworld knew. “Starting with her.” The goddess gestured at Athena, whose bloody knees were digging into the dirt. “Save these brothers for last,” she continued, narrowing her eyes in on Zeus, Poseidon, and Alkaios. “Let them watch the rest die and see what happens to those who oppose us.”

  A cry lodged itself in Hades’ throat as two of the deformed gods seized Athena roughly by the biceps and hauled her to the debris Hades had perched atop moments ago.

  “No!” Athena screamed, digging her heels into the dirt. They left bloody streaks on the ground as her feet scrambled for a foothold, but the dust gave way beneath her panic, offering no aid. “No! No!” Her arms flailed, and her torso bucked wildly as she struggled fruitlessly to free herself, but to no avail. The Old Ones simply dragged her panicked body to the rock, forcing her to kneel before it. The fanged god snuck up behind Athena and planting his foot on her back, shoved her head roughly against the boulder. The jagged edges bit into her soft flesh, blooming crimson against her skin. Tears streamed down Athena’s cheeks as she writhed against his weight, but his heel held her prostrate. The beast wielding the mallet turned from the three greats and stalked toward Athena, and in that moment, all understood the fate that awaited the goddess.

  “No! Please, no!” Athena screamed, squirming as the god closed in on her, mallet slung against his tremendous shoulders. “Zeus!” she shrieked in desperation, knowin
g full well he could not help. “No! Please, please, please!” Athena repeated her frantic begging over and over. Her breath hitched with sobbing hyperventilation. The Olympians knelt in the dirt in terror, tears running down many of their cheeks, yet the Old One took no notice of their distress and settled his hulking frame behind Athena. He lifted his mallet high in the air, lining up the blow that would crush the god of war’s skull.

  “Hades, please!” Athena sobbed, angling her head to meet Hades’ eyes. Hysteria and fear colored her face as she shook on her knees, cheek pressed into the rock. “Please?”

  The two women stared at each other for an endless moment. Horror and shocking disbelief passed between them, so strong the air iced over. Athena bucked and cried against her executioners. Her limbs and torso thrashed, fighting an unwinnable battle for freedom. There would be no escape for her, only death. Her skull would crack like an overripe fruit and paint the dirt with her brains, yet still, she struggled. Her voice grew more and more desperate; her words jumbled in incoherent terror, and Hades watched the entire horrifying scene as if she was no longer living in her own skin. Her eyes glazed as the monster raise the weapon. Her heart beat erratically slow within the confines of her chest. The vision before her blurred into a cacophony of confused madness, and with a numbing panic, Hades feared she would black out when the rush of the swinging mallet woke her with a stab of clarity.