The Sixth Life of Medusa

25. Zeus' Executioner

Medusa remained on her knees, the feel of her heartbeat throbbing in her ears and cold sweat misting her brow. Self-preservation yelled at her to flee but movement felt impossible. Ares was Zeus' top executioner—a killer of millions. How does a person casually face such an existence?

Ares looked from her face to his offered hand, which Medusa would never dare take. Oddly, she couldn't pick up the scent of his aura despite sensing it. Perhaps his aura smelled like blood. There were rumours that a single touch from the red god could pulverise an awakened mortal, and a swing of his sword could slay a thousand mortals at once. Just what was Clotho thinking when she joined hands with him?

Seeing Medusa make no move to take his hand, Ares straightened. "The Moirai said you can kill gods."

Panic scattered her thoughts. "I—that–that is not true." Why did Clotho tell him such a damning claim? "I do not—"

"You may not know this seeing you are so young, but the Moirai sees the future." His expression remained stoic as he watched her. "If she says you can kill gods, then it is as true as the earth beneath our feet."

He spoke of Clotho reverently, like she was a far superior being... which was strange. Medusa had also noticed the same worshipping behaviour with her aunt and Demeter.

Holding his hands at his back, Ares peered down at her. "I was honoured to make a deal with the Moirai. You shall be my representative at the Fate of Heroes, but the Moirai will have the claim to your ultimate request when you win. Yes, you must win."

"W-what?"

"From my observations, you are also cursed. This makes things easier," he continued as if he hadn't heard her question. "I saw your performance at the trial. You show promise."

Medusa's brow twitched as annoyance bulldozed through her earlier terror. Why was he speaking like she had no say in their deal? Yes, she had agreed to receive Clotho's help, but she wasn't even present when they made such an important decision about her life.

"I'm not a child," Medusa mumbled. "I should have been—"

"I shall prepare mock games for practice now and then." He nodded, seeming convinced by his own words. "I intended to speak with Demeter about setting up a portal door, but she's absent. Nastor should be agreeable since I am taking you as a contender."

"Hey..."

"There is the concern about your weak mortal body breaking during the sessions." Ares cocked his head, appearing contemplative. "Hmmm." A frown wrinkled his brow. "Elixirs can help with—"

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!"

A hush fell. Even the crickets in the background and the sound of the night breeze went still.

Ares' gaze slid in her direction.

I yelled at the red god. Raw panic bubbled up. She gripped her knees as sweat slid down her chin.

"What did you say?" he asked in a low deadly voice.

I'm dead. He will kill me. No, he can't. Clotho said he couldn't hurt me.

Stumbling to her feet, Medusa forced a brave face. "What happens if I do not wish to represent you at the games?"

"And why would you not wish to?" He asked the question like Medusa were some idiot questioning perfect logic.

"I was going to represent Clotho. That was what she—" Medusa flinched. Heart sinking in fright, she took several steps back.

The way he glared at her in... disappointment? "I and Phorcys were never friends, but I assumed he was upright enough to raise a respectful child." There was a bite in his words, and his eyes were doing that strange glowing thing. Something she said must have triggered him.