New to the story or need a refresher? Begin with the prologue:
Athena must’ve known it was the goddess of love from her disdainful silence alone.
The two had spoken as few words as possible since Athena had lost the Judgement of Paris to Aphrodite. What started as essentially a beauty contest between three goddesses—Hera, Aphrodite, and Athena—turned into a decade-long war where Paris, the person who judged the contest, ended up killed from a battle wound, his city turned to ash, and his prize for picking Aphrodite as fairest, Helen of Troy, returned to her former husband like borrowed property.
Aphrodite gestured toward her waist and then to Jaden.
“Your vagina’s broken? Well, I can’t have you running around out here in these streets in that state.” Athena allowed her to pass and muttered something about inevitability as Aphrodite stumbled by.
As I said before, many of us gods have softened with age, Athena included. She could temporarily set aside their differences to help a fellow goddess in need. Otherwise, you know how divine grudges used to be. They really could last for an eternity.
Jaden lingered at the door.
“I don’t know where you keep scrounging up all of these divine favors, but you’re under her protection now.” She swung the spear toward the hall. “Now, scooch. Before I change my mind.”
Athena even gives me pause. She is one of those robust-looking women with muscles that have muscles. Brainy, too. The kind of gym buddy who beats your every personal best in every weightlift and then expects you to spar intellectually in the style of the Socratic method over post-workout protein shakes.
I last saw her when she got kicked off Mount Olympus, but there is a large oil painting of her that Hephaestus installed in the great hall on Mount Olympus in her memory. I’d heard she’d leaned into the whole CrossFit craze, apparently even won several championships. That became evident when I had first seen her painting, which is just Athena in the minimum of clothing, flexing her stout frame. She is in conference with an owl while pouring what looks like a vase of olive oil on her rippling abs. Just rubbing oil on her muscles and chatting.
A beastly entity to have to scooch by. But even scarier to keep waiting.
Inside, the air felt the same to Jaden. Controlled. A part of him wondered what he was doing here again when he was supposed to be boarding a train.
“Jaden.”
Apollo’s voice landed like a chord resolving.
“Yes?” He had forgotten how striking the god was.
“Why did you leave me?”
“Because you were trapping me here.”
“Trapping you here,” Apollo repeated pensively. “Tell me, did you hate it?”
“Yes.”
That wasn’t true, at least not entirely. Jaden had felt his mouth go dry as soon as the word vaulted from his lips.
“Then why are you back?”
“I need your help.” Jaden glanced over to Aphrodite, who was slumped against the wall, massaging her temples. The rot on her skin seemed to pulse now. “Actually, she does. I found her wandering Vondelpark. I think something happened to her?”
Apollo’s eyes shifted to her. “Okay.”
“Are you going to help her?”
“Why does it matter to you? She’s here now, amongst her kind. And since you hated it here...”
The sadness in his voice was almost worse than anger. Even in his sorrow, he commanded the room with a voice full of rich melodies. Jaden almost felt obliged to apologize for leaving, so moved by the perfect tones, as if he had done something wrong.
“I didn’t hate it here,” Jaden found himself saying, “I hated that it was on your terms. And that I had to ask to leave.”
“I was protecting you.”
“You don’t get it. Freedom isn’t something I should have to request.”
Athena chuckled from the doorway. “You know, back in the day, we did what we wanted. And if mortals didn’t like it, they chalked it up to ira deorum.”
“What does that mean?” Jaden asked.
“It means get over it because choice and free will are overrated. You’ll realize that as your limited years fly by.”
Athena left, and the curtain of silence that dropped lasted long enough for Jaden to realize that coming back here was a mistake.
If either of them were paying attention, I know they might have noticed Aphrodite straighten. Not dramatically. Just enough. She slipped between them, slinging an arm around each of their shoulders. They would have felt a tantalizing warmth bloom between them, a whisper of a promise, a hint of a spell. There was no flash of magic, just certain memories, certain thoughts. In that state, love couldn’t command. But it could certainly remove resistance.
“Wrath of the gods,” Apollo said finally. “That’s what ira deorum really means.”
“Just because you were manipulating humans long enough to have words for it doesn’t mean it was legit. It just made it commonplace.”
“Perhaps you are right.” Apollo held up his hand. “I promise I won’t use my powers on you anymore.”
Jaden supposed that was the best apology you could pull out of a god. Besides, he had missed Apollo, even if he had tried to purged Apollo from his mind earlier. How could anyone resist that devious smile that lit up Apollo’s face? The one they shared to communicate that what they longed to express at this point involved touch. touch.
Aphrodite’s glow flickered at the edge of Jaden’s eyesight.
Then she collapsed. Not gracefully, not mythically. More like a desiccated skeleton clattering to the ground.
Apollo eased Aphrodite into a cushioned alcove beneath one of his hall’s high windows. For a moment, he knelt beside her.
Then his gaze moved to the bookcase. To the narrow seam between two volumes—barely visible unless you knew where to look. Apollo slid his fingers between two volumes and drew out a shard no larger than a coin.
Golden sparks dotted Jaden’s vision. He turned away instinctively, but the dazzling light no longer dizzied or blinded him. The brightness settled into him, steady, almost gentle.
Apollo weighed the shard between his fingers as it glowed red-gold and alive. He did not move immediately. Instead, he looked like he was measuring something.
When he pushed the ambrosia past Aphrodite’s lips, Jaden saw a change come gradually. The mottled decay along her arms retreats in slow waves. And the metallic sourness surrounding her thinned into something floral and warm.
“She’ll need time,” he said. “It’ll take her some time to recover from that level of withdrawal.”
They settled in a recessed nook on the other side of the hall.
“What’s wrong with her?” Jaden asked.
“Someone stole her girdle. Usually, we can manage without our divine accessories, but she also doesn’t have any ambrosia left. Without both, her domain collapses inward.”
To Jaden, the answer was clear. “Don’t you have extra ambrosia?”
Apollo’s mouth tilted faintly. “I have what I require.”
“That sounds like extra.”
“It isn’t.”
He let that sit before adding. “What I gave her was half of what I must consume to bring up the sun tomorrow. My father cut off ambrosia to those of us who chose not to remain on Olympus, and I left with what I could carry. Since then, it’s been a matter of calculation.”
“And if you run out?” Jaden asked.
“We don’t perish,” Apollo said. “We are not mortal. However, our reach shortens. Our powers thin.”
“How about we help her get her girdle back then?” Jaden asked. “Seems easier than watching her fade.”
He leaned his head against the wall. “That will not be so simple.”
“I get the vibe that you don’t want to help her.”
Apollo looked toward Aphrodite’s resting form. “She used to live here before Athena did. And she used her girdle to throw these nonstop orgies and gorged through her ambrosia on her quest for sexual transcendence. When hers ran dry, she borrowed from us.”
“So you kicked her out.”
“We asked her to leave.”
“And now?”
Apollo’s gaze returned to Jaden. “And now I’m reluctant to help because she’s paying the consequences for spending her rations enjoying epicurean orgasms. I wouldn’t be surprised if her girdle was stolen during one of her notorious sexcapades. We’ve all had to sacrifice, and I don’t see why I need to go out of my way to help her when she brought this on herself.”
“But you can help her,” Jaden said. “Even if she mismanaged herself.”
Apollo studied him.
“She’s part of your tribe,” Jaden continued. “I read The Iliad in high school. Weren’t you two on the same side during the Trojan War?”
Apollo released a low chuckle. “You recite epics as though they were minutes from a meeting. You don’t even know the half.”
He snapped his fingers and a miniature cosmos unfurled across the ceiling, threads of light stretching into constellations. He scanned them as though searching for traces of something. “We were something back then. I could split the horizon in two if I wanted. But people don’t believe in us like they used to. All we have now are these cheap parlor tricks as our divinity has become nothing in comparison—a sun reduced to candlelight.”
Jaden had seen what having nothing looked like, and Apollo’s situation wasn’t that, even though Apollo had, in fact, lost something. It seemed that humans and gods alike suffered the stings and bites of loss, but as with anything, Jaden supposed it was all relative.
“But you are right. Aphrodite and I have known war and love together,” Apollo said, his face twisted in thought.
Jaden leaned over and kissed him. “Then help her.”
Apollo’s hands framed Jaden’s face. “On one condition.”
“Yeah?”
“That you come with me to find the girdle.”
“Why?”
Apollo gave him a look. “You know why.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
A pause. “Why must I say what you already know?”
“Just say it,” Jaden said. “Or I can dip out of here and continue on my way.”
“I prefer you near me.”
Their next kiss was slower. Something unexpected cleared between them, and momentarily, there was no difference in divinity. They were two beings lost in the dance of desire, baring soul to soul. It made Jaden feel like the incandescent glow that usually surrounded Apollo enveloped them both, and Jaden loved the equality of that moment. And all those that followed as their hands strayed over each other’s bodies.
Afterward, breath still uneven, Jaden asked, “You good?”
“I am,” Apollo replied, arm hooked across Jaden’s chest.
“Same.”
“I gathered.” Apollo chuckled. His voice, however, dropped an octave as he switched topics. “You know, something has been puzzling me. How did you manage to leave my hall?”
Jaden hesitated.
“It just…happened. One moment I was in here, the next I could pass through.”
Apollo was not looking at him, but Jaden thought he felt the god tense. “I feared as much.”
“What do you mean?” Jaden asked.
“My wards have weakened,” Apollo said. “I had attributed it to the distance from Olympus, but there is something else. I have maintained the same ambrosia intake since I departed Olympus, but the same measure now produces less effect.”
“But I thought the food of the gods was supposed to maintain your divinity?”
“It should have.” Apollo looked up at the fading mini cosmos. “There was once a time when I could see everything so clearly and glimpse what fates were in store. But I think even the powers of ambrosia are fading, and all I do is peer into the murk.”
“Maybe Aphrodite is going through something similar,” Jaden said. “Maybe it just hit her faster.”
“Possibly,” Apollo said. “Or she could just be—”
A delicate hum drifted over. Something like a melodic whistle from a golden horn of innocence. Jaden realized it was “Let’s Stay Together” by Al Green.
She got to the chorus and tried to sing, “whether times are good or bad, happy or sad,” but her voice fractured into a violent coughing fit. Apollo told me it was a pale comparison to Aphrodite’s usually marvelous pitch that could linger over your name musically, drawing out your most sultry desires.
“Take it easy, all right?” Apollo said.
Jaden pulled his pants back on, suddenly aware of his own nakedness. Apollo, who got up to tend to Aphrodite, let it all hang out without hesitation.
“Perhaps less singing for now,” Apollo said as a final assessment.
Aphrodite winked.
“I don’t know if you heard, but we’re going to help you find your girdle,” Apollo said as he crossed to a shelf and dusted off an ornate, gold-rimmed mirror. “And if something has been stolen, there is only one god who knows where stolen things go.”
Jaden edged over to join them.
“Hermes,” Apollo commanded. “The god of thieves.”
The mirror shimmered, but that was about it. Eventually, the thing went back to reflecting their three faces crowded in front of the glass.
Apollo repeated himself. Nothing.
“Maybe it’s broken?” Jaden asked.
Apollo frowned. “No, it can’t seem to locate him. The service area only includes Olympus residents.”
Aphrodite pointed to the trumpet emblem etched at the base.
“Clever idea, Aphrodite. Pheme is bound to know where he is.”
Apollo tapped the sigil and gold filigree lit the rim.
The glass filled with a woman whose short, satiny strands of dark sepia locks whirled and twisted with natural chic about her oval face.
“Apollo, dear! Is it truly you? It’s been an eternity and a half. How are you? Tell me everything.” She leaned in closer as if she were in for a real treat, on the cusp of receiving a complete memoir that uncovered one’s darkest, guiltiest pleasure.
“We’re in something of a hurry,” Apollo said smoothly. “As you can see, Aphrodite’s not in the best of spirits. Someone stole her girdle.”
“Oh,” she said, leaning away, her face a bit crestfallen compared to the initial bubbly gush of expressions. “I had heard about that already.”
“Do you happen to hear who took it?”
“No, I’m afraid not, dear. Listen, Apollo, was that all? I’ve got loads and loads of calls to monitor, and not that I don’t enjoy seeing your shining face, I would hate to miss a juicy secret while we idly chitchat.”
“One more thing, I’m trying to get a hold of Hermes. He’s not picking up. Do you know where he’s camping out these days?”
She leaned back in. “Would you like to know a rumor I heard?”
“If it’s about where Hermes is, then yes.”
Jaden could see the tightness gather between Apollo’s brows.
“I’ll tell you if you tell me who that is.” Pheme pointed to Jaden then gingerly arranged her curls as if she needed to look perfect to receive a good scandal.
“That’s Jaden,” Apollo said with the air of hoping he could leave it at that.
“Jaden.” Her eyes flitted about as she searched her memory. “I don’t remember any Jadens on the divine roster. Is he a god?”
“I’m human,” Jaden said.
Pheme gasped. “A human! Are you two entangled? You do look a tinge brighter these days, Apollo. Aglow.”
Jaden looked to Apollo. Apollo looked to Jaden.
“We’re currently enjoying each other’s company,” Jaden said. Something about Pheme’s enthusiastic pause had a way of making him want to share more.
“Now, Pheme,” Apollo said, “what was the rumor?”
“How did you two meet?” Pheme countered, ignoring the question.
“Pheme. The rumor,” Apollo reminded.
“Oh, sorry, I seem to have forgotten it now.” She leaned backward, adopting her coolly reserved countenance again.
Aphrodite nudged Apollo.
“Okay,” Apollo said. “You’re welcome to grill me after we get Aphrodite’s girdle. Deal?”
There was a “yes!” somewhere in Pheme’s outburst of excitement.
“So, the Keres contacted me, and—”
“The sisters of violent death?” Apollo cut in. “You trust them?”
“Well, I am treating it as just a rumor, but you can’t deny when you hear it…there is a certain verisimilitude to what they told me that fits in with Hermes’s unexpected absence of late. As I was saying, the Keres threw a dinner party a while back for Hades and Persephone and some other key people in the Underworld family. It’s some annual goodbye feast they hold for Persephone before she goes off to spend spring and summer with her mother. Anyway, Hermes and Thanatos were also guests of honor at said dinner.” Now, this is where Pheme really seemed to dazzle like a supernova. “And one of the sisters called me to tell me some of the things they overheard Hermes say at the dinner. Apparently, Hermes has given up most of his former duties and has started running a funeral home with Thanatos!”
“Where exactly?”
“Somewhere in America. Virginia, I think? But I forget the name. Something with the word ‘divine’ in the name…Divine Heights? No, that’s not quite right.”
“Divine Rites?” Jaden ventured. “In Richmond?”
“Yes. Yes, exactly that,” Pheme said. “How did you know?”
“They’re the same people who cremated my mom,” Jaden said.
Well, this is where we part ways…
…at least for now.
Over the past seventeen chapters, you’ve met gods, monsters, and more than a few people making questionable decisions with extraordinary power.
The gods, unfortunately, continue making terrible decisions after this point.
If you’d like to witness the consequences—and see where Jaden, Dionysus, and the rest of the cast end up, The Art of Killing Gods releases July 14, 2026.
Either way, thanks for spending some of your time here!
P.S. Preorders are open: The Art of Killing Gods (Amazon)