Hunted (The Iron Druid Chronicles, Book Six)

about the temporary abduction of the dryads south of Olympus, since he preferred to frolic around Arcadia in any case. He simply liked to fuck with people, and Faunus had given him a great excuse to follow his fancy.
    “It’s done,” he said in Greek, a half smile twisting his features. The horns peeking out through his hair were stubby things rather than the curled rams’ horns I’ve seen in some artist depictions, and his other goat bits were anatomically correct. “Do as you wish and live in peace so long as you leave me to do the same.”
    “Gladly,” I said.
    Faunus, when he arrived, took a bit more convincing. Some of those dryads had been his particular favorites.
    “They’re perfectly healthy,” I reminded him, speaking in Latin. “And if Bacchus hadn’t persuaded you to spread pandemonium throughout Europe, it never would have been necessary for me to abduct them in the first place. He drew you into his personal conflict, and while I might question your judgment on that score, I don’t harbor any ill will against you or any dryad. I simply did what I had to do to escape Bacchus while doing as little real damage as possible.”
    “Three months of worry about my dryads was pretty damaging,” he fumed.
    “For that I am sorry. But you have caused me great personal hardship of late and may consider yourselfavenged already. Can we exchange forgiveness and move forward in peace?”
    Faunus clenched his fists and didn’t answer right away. He glanced at Jupiter and saw no sympathy in his hard eyes. His shoulders slumped and he sighed. “Yes,” he said.
    My own shoulders relaxed. I hadn’t realized how tense they’d been. “Thank you. A moment while I check, if you please.”
    Windsor Forest was an old wood and had been bound to Tír na nÓg long ago, though not by me. I put my hand to an alder tree and concentrated, searching for the tether that would allow me to shift away. It was there, strong and vibrant, waiting to take me wherever I wished. I breathed a soft sigh of contentment.
    “Excellent,” I said. “I will bring the huntresses back and allow them the opportunity to end their hunt of me and my companions. If they refuse to end it, then I hope you will understand that I cannot release them.”
    Neither of the sky gods had a problem with this, to my surprise. “On her own head be it,” Jupiter said.
    I asked Albion to bring up Artemis first. When the rock and clay cleared away from her face, she was even more ready than before to swear an end to it all.
    “Pride and arrogance led me to overstep my provenance,” she said, addressing me without prompting. “I should have been more modest and attentive to my own responsibilities than to take another’s grievance as my own. I have lost my hounds and my dignity as a result.”
    “Fairly spoken,” I said. I proposed the oath to her and asked her to swear it before Zeus, who stepped clearly into her view, boner and all. Artemis winced in disgust when she saw it pressing against the fabric he’d wrapped around his waist, but she swore the oath. I asked Albion to release her completely, and all the earth crumbled away from her body. Hermes descended to put her backtogether as he had done with Mercury. The Roman messenger had now healed sufficiently to stand, though he wasn’t quite ready to fly yet.
    Diana was not nearly so ready to capitulate. She flatly refused, in fact, vowing instead to slay me and feed me to the crows before violating my bones in ways yet to be determined. Artemis implored her to reconsider, but Diana would have none of it. Jupiter even leaned on her a bit, demanding that she give up her hunt in the interests of Olympus. Diana suggested that he fornicate with Faunus. I probably shouldn’t have taunted her and kicked her head back in the Netherlands. And there was no telling what Flidais had said to her while I was blacked out.
    Jupiter’s face purpled and he whipped his head around to me. “Do with her as you will, Druid,” he said. “I will fight for her no more, though I still wish to see Bacchus freed.”
    I nodded thoughtfully, silently thanking her for making me seem reasonable by comparison, and then said, “Perhaps Diana will think better of her words if given sufficient time to mull them over. Shall we return here, say, once a month, to inquire whether she has changed her mind?”
    “That is a noble idea, though I think it far too generous,” Jupiter said. “Once a decade should be