Nausea surges as I pick it up, but I swallow down the feeling. Inside the folder, I find a piece of paper with a name and address on it; a key; and a picture. I put the picture back into the folder without looking at it. I don’t want to see the face of the person I’m being asked to remove, at least not while I have an audience. The address is close, a fancy apartment building right in the center of the Olympian upper city. Odysseus really is bold to have set her up here, right under his wife’s nose.
My gaze lingers on the name above the address. Calypso. Pretty name, no doubt for a pretty woman. She doesn’t deserve what’s about to happen to her, but sometimes the price of grabbing for power in Olympus is that you get violence and blood instead of prestige and jewels. It doesn’t seem worth the risk from where I’m sitting, but when I’m the one they send to cut down people who have reached too far, too fast, I guess I’m not the best person to make that call.
I toss the keys lightly in my hand. “Zeus moves fast to get keys to her place.”
“He didn’t provide them. Odysseus did.”
I almost drop the keys. “Excuse me?”
“Like I said, his pride isn’t allowing him to admit he’s wrong, but he wants this problem taken care of as much as everyone else.” Athena makes a face. “I realize how this looks and it’s not ideal, but Zeus has given his command and we all dance to his tune. There’s nothing to be done about it.”
There’s nothing to be done about it.
She managed to step in when the last Poseidon wanted to treat me like an object to be claimed, but he hadn’t wanted me dead, and once Athena claimed me as her own, he hadn’t dared cross her. But Zeus is not Poseidon for all that they’re two of only three legacy titles among the Thirteen. No one fucks with Zeus when he gets his mind set on something. Not even Athena.
“He’s a coward.” I don’t mean to speak, but the words burst free all the same. “He’s the married one. Why is murder more acceptable than admitting he was wrong and ending the relationship?”
“That’s not our concern,” Athena says firmly. “We do what we have to in order to protect the peaceful balance of Olympus. Sometimes that means doing things that are…” She looks away. “It’s not ideal, and I realize that, but we don’t have another option. Zeus wants what he wants, and if we don’t give it to him, two pissy families will be the least of our worries. Calypso needs to be removed to maintain that peaceful balance.”
Peaceful balance.
Funny, but the so-called peace only seems to apply to those with money and power.
That, I manage to keep internal. Ultimately, my thoughts about this order don’t matter at all. I don’t hold power in this city. I’m just an instrument of the powerful; namely, Athena.
And, right now, she’s telling me to jump.
I stand and slide the keys into my pocket. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you. It’s best to make it look like an accident if at all possible. The woman has no family to speak of, but Odysseus has been public with the affair and if it gets out she was the victim of a violent end, people will ask uncomfortable questions.”
Gods forbid someone ask questions.
I smooth out my expression and turn for the door. “I’ll see it done.” Even though I know better, part of me wants Athena to call me back and say we’ll find a different way. She won’t. She’s made the call and she’s not one to second-guess herself.
No, the weak one in this scenario is me.
It’s late enough that I don’t see anyone as I leave the building and stride down the street, my long legs eating up the distance. It’s tempting to go home, to sleep on this, but ultimately I have no choice. If I don’t obey, then I’ll be the one seeing consequences, and Athena will just send someone else to remove the mistress. My chest tries to close at the thought, a sensation as familiar as my own heartbeat.
I don’t have a choice. I never have a choice. A small price to pay for my life, but it’s easy enough for me to say that. It’s not me who’s paying the price this time.
At least I can ensure its painless. A small comfort, that, but better than nothing. All too many accidents are violent in nature. Another of my…coworkers…might shove her out of her high-rise apartment or send her through a glass shower with some conveniently located cuts to allow her to bleed out on her bathroom floor.
Pills, I decide. Not an accident, but a suicide. A deep sleep that she’ll never wake up from. It’s the kindest way to go.