the goddess of war, which is derived from the word ‘bellum’, the Latin word for warfare.”
I gaped at the cat. “How can you possibly know what my name is short for? I never even met the people who named me.”
“I have been with you for a long time.”
“No, I bought you eight years ago. You couldn’t possibly have known my parents. Could you?” I couldn’t keep the hope from my voice, and I could swear the look in the cat’s eyes softened.
“There is too much for your mostly mortal brain to process right now. When you have proven to me that you can handle it, I will tell you more,” Zeeva said eventually. I scowled, opening my mouth to protest, but the dangerous gleam flickered back instantly, and her body glowed teal. “Do not push me, Enyo, or I will tell you nothing.”
I clamped my mouth shut, clinging to the resolve I had earlier. I couldn’t do anything in Olympus without help. If the cat knew things I wanted to know, I couldn’t force her to tell me. I’d have to win her trust.
“Fine. But can you please call me Bella?” I said.
“Very well.”
“What’s your real name?” I asked her.
“Zeeva.”
“But... that’s what I named you. You must have had a name before that.”
“I did. Zeeva.”
“Wait, did you get inside my head and choose your own name?” I asked, gaping.
“That’s enough conversation for one day,” she said, and jumped down off the table. “Hades is back.”
“Wait! That’s not fair!”
There was a little flash of teal light, and my traitorous magic cat was gone.
4
Bella
I didn’t know how she knew, but Zeeva was right about Hades. Before I’d even finished the rest of my nectar, Hades, Ares, and Persephone appeared at the other end of the room.
Ares’ presence instantly set my nerves on edge, my anger responding to his instinctively. I stood up.
“The Olympians and a few guests are on their way. You will be leaving within a few hours,” Hades said, his smoke figure turning to face me.
“They love a bit of drama here, Bella. You’ll get used to it,” Persephone added.
And she wasn’t kidding.
After a few minutes of nervous waiting, no less than thirty people appeared out of nowhere, and boy did they test my not-freaking-out abilities. A long dais lined with thrones had appeared with them at the end of the room, and eight of the grand seats were occupied. I ran my eyes fast along the row of what I was sure were the other Olympians, my suspicions confirmed when everyone else in the room bowed low to them. I quickly did the same, desperate to take in everything around me and not knowing where to start.
Start with the gods, I decided, as I straightened. They emanated power, and my knowledge of Greek mythology was decent enough to give a pretty good guess at who they all were. Poseidon was in the middle, and the most obvious. He was wearing a toga the color of the ocean, had black hair streaked with grey, and was holding a trident. The hot-older-guy look was seriously working for him. Next to him was a severe but beautiful-looking woman with blonde hair wrapped around her head like a crown and a white toga. The owl on her shoulder gave her away as Athena. On Poseidon’s other side was the most stunning woman I’d ever seen. Her skin was the color of mocha and her hair was candy pink, rolling over her shoulders and sheer blue dress in waves. She had to be Aphrodite. I was squarely into guys, but just looking at her made my insides feel weird. Next to her was a hunchback guy with a leather apron on, who must have been her husband Hephaestus. On his right was a young girl with an enormous bow and tube of arrows and gleaming armor, and next to her a ridiculously pretty guy in matching armor. He was wearing a beaming smile. The twins, Artemis and Apollo. Back at the other end of the row was a guy in tight leather trousers and an open denim shirt, with long wavy black hair and a lazy grin. Next to him was a man with a red beard and scruffy red hair, wearing a plain black toga that only made the fluttering silver wings on his sandals stand out more. Dionysus and Hermes.
I had already been told that Zeus was missing, but I was disappointed not to see Hera. I wanted to know why she’d