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were those fashioned by Daedalus—doomed to melt when they came too close to the sun. When he was touching her, making her come with his hands and mouth, his body slamming into hers, he’d whispered: “I love you.”
    For all that Demeter had learned in her long existence, she knew with those words lay the path to destruction. Even if things were different.

 
     
    HERA
     
    Hera was going straight to Tartarus—just like her mother had always warned her would happen. The titan had told her if she didn’t slow down, she’d go straight to Tartarus in an urn. Now, she was going, but it wasn’t in the threatened urn. It was in a purple velvet corset and leather pants tight enough to double as a contraceptive device.
    She looked damned good if she did say so herself.
    Purple was her new favorite color. Everything was purple from now on. No more white. White everywhere for millennia. Vomit. She’d had enough. Hera wanted bright, rich color and what better proclaimed her royalty than purple? She even had a new amethyst crown set in platinum. Hera was damned tired of gold too. It was boring.
    The black gates of Tartarus loomed before her; hopeless and forbidding. They shot up out of the barren and desolate ground to reach high into the swirling blue-black depths of the underworld sky like dead briars in a long forgotten and rotted garden. Ebony roses bloomed along the bars, but Hera knew better than to touch them. They were poisonous, even to a goddess.
    It was then she saw technology had even inserted itself down here amongst the ruined. There was a video screen and a keypad off to the left. Hera pushed the call button.
    “Fuck off.” It was mumbled, so she couldn’t tell if it was Hades or not.
    That wasn’t the welcome she’d expected. Perhaps she should have worn the white Grecian for her first visit—just to ease him in to things. She knew he’d been suffering, but Hera realized she may not have grasped the depth of his pain.
    “Don’t be a dick, Hades.”
    “My apologies, Hera. I didn’t realize it was you,” he said affably in a smooth baritone. “But I’m afraid I still have to ask you to kindly fuck off. Whatever Zeus wants, I’m not interested.”
    “I’m not here for Zeus.” She realized he didn’t have the video screen on. Why install one if he wasn’t going to use it?
    He didn’t say anything else but the doors swung open and she stepped inside, careful to side-step the latest steaming pile Cerberus had so graciously left as a welcome mat. Gods, if she’d stepped in that thing, it would go up to her knee. Not in these boots, hell no.
    That was when she heard it: the thundering of paws as large as she was as they crashed into the ground. Hera quickly drew herself up into her goddess form and braced for the three-headed mutt as it slammed into her, all three heads trying to lick her at once.
    She zapped him with a bolt of energy that was not terribly unlike Zeus’ thunderbolts. The hellhound paused and sat. He waited patiently for his treat and the affection he knew would be forthcoming from her hand.
    Hera scratched behind all of his ears twice before giving him a silent command to take her to Hades. She shrank back down to a mortal form and climbed up on his back and he bounded toward the dark iron castle in the distance.
    She’d have to remember to come see he him more often. He got lonely, being the only one of his kind. Even with the three heads. Although, the Norse pantheon used to come for house parties and bring the Fenrir occasionally and they got along well.
    Before Hades had freed Persephone.
    What was the world coming to when the God of the Underworld went altruistic? Next thing a body knew, Zeus would be dressing up like the jolly fat man and handing out presents every Solstice. Hera shuddered.
    No, steps had to be taken.
    When they arrived at the iron castle, Hera was once again amazed at how darkly beautiful it was—it was like something out of a fairy tale. The Grimm