Hunted (The Iron Druid Chronicles, Book Six)

missile, and then it’s over. It’s going to be one hell of a bloodbath, guys. When all the humans die—or so many of them it won’t make any difference—what’s going to happen to you and all the rest of the gods who depend on their belief?”
    “Bah!” Zeus exploded. “We go to kill Hel and Loki now and this never happens.”
    “Who’s ‘we,’ Zeus? Do your powers work on any other plane but Olympus and earth? I know Hermes and Mercury can travel to other planes and return, but are you certain that they remain immortal while they’re cut off from this plane and the source of their worship?”
    Zeus flicked his eyes to Hermes, and the god of thieves gave a tiny shrug. I pressed my advantage. “Have you ever called forth lightning on a plane other than this one or Olympus? And even if you have, did you not notice the part where Loki thought your thunderbolts were kind of cute?”
    Zeus glared at me and said nothing. Jupiter jumped in. “Fine. You kill them both.”
    “He’s not so easily killed, as you just witnessed, and neither is Hel. I certainly don’t want to confront them on their turf, where I’ll be weakened and they’ll be strongest. Come on. You guys are smart. What we need to do is help out Odin and the rest of the good guys and make sure the right side wins when they make their move. Look, I’ve already managed to take out Fenris—he was supposed to kill Odin and wreak bonus havoc. What if Poseidon and Neptune went looking for Jörmungandr and we took him out as well? That would make Loki and Hel all kinds of worried. They’d crawl back to their dark holes and shake their fists and say, ‘Curse you, unexpectedly effective alliance of powerful beings!’ And then we’d all have ice cream or something. What do you say we cooperate on this so that we can all have a future?”
    “You mean everyone but Bacchus, I suppose?” Jupiter said.
    “No, I’d be delighted to live in a world where Bacchus and I can coexist. Seriously. You know, we did so for more than two thousand years. It’s only recently that he decided I needed to die and I disagreed.”
    “Tell me why.”
    “Gladly. This is truth or I am the son of a goat: Some of his Bacchants tried to make a move on a city under my protection. I killed a few of them because they were slaying innocent humans. Bacchus took offense—probably because it was a Druid who did it and you Romans have always hated Druids—and it escalated from there. Had his Bacchants not invaded my territory in Arizona, he’d still be living in blissful ignorance of my existence. But after I called him some names, he swore to you that he would kill me, and so here we are. All I want is to be left alone and I’ll do the same to you. I left you alone for two thousand years and I can do it for two thousand more. I’ll tell you what: As a sign of good faith, I’ll return Mercury to you now.”
    I asked Albion to release Mercury from the earth, and he complied. Five boulders rose from the ground, the rock and chalk and clay crumbled away from Mercury’s body parts and melted into the turf, and the overall effect was to make me look like a boss.
    Jupiter grunted, staring at the pieces of Mercury,whose eyes burned with hatred. “Good faith? Are we in a negotiation now?”
    “Yes. A treaty of sorts. The Treaty of Windsor, if you will. Hear me out, please?”
    “Go on,” Jupiter said. Hermes, who had been hovering safely above, floated down to Mercury’s chopped limbs and began squidging them onto the torso until they held and began to graft together.
    “I’ll release the goddesses and Bacchus as well for nothing more than a sworn oath that they will not pursue vengeance against me or my associates. I want the same oath from all the Olympians, and you can have mine in return. I have demonstrated for millennia that I can control myself and not seek revenge for wrongs done against me, so I’d like to see you do the same.”
    “That would give you permission to behave as you wished in the future if we promise not to pursue vengeance.”
    “No. I’m asking for amnesty for my trespasses to date, not diplomatic immunity for the future. If I break my oath and mess with you, then I should be punished—though I hope we would talk before we let it get this bad again. By the same token, should any Olympians break their oaths, they can expect to disappear. But let’s not focus on what could go wrong. Things are wrong enough as it is. Let’s focus on what