Hunter's Night

By Christy

A/N: Guys I KNOW. I know. It's been FOREVER. I've been working as a freelance/contract writer with pretty crazy deadlines, so I haven't had time for anything, really. It's been a year of transitions for me so far, and I'm in a state of flux, trying to see what will come next. Waiting/ transition seasons are fun! Really.

I hope everyone's well, enjoying Labor Day weekend - for those who celebrate it. Hope you all enjoy this chapter! It's a long one.

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Helena Bertinelli

Knowing that Bruce and Diana weren't around this weekend made Helena uneasy. Not that she ever patrolled with them - they did their own thing with the kids - but the knowledge that they weren't around to back her up left a small pit in her stomach. It wasn't that she doubted herself. She just never knew what crazy chaos Gotham would get up to - and with Batman and Wonder Woman out of the picture, she just knew that this weekend would be a bad weekend. The psychos would come out, and it'd be on her to make sure Gotham didn't go to hell.

Well, her and the insanely odd man sitting beside her in the car.

"You shouldn't bite your cheek like that," he said, cutting into the silence.

She flipped him the bird. He looked away. Or rather, his faceless mask tilted away from her. She didn't know if she'd ever get used to it.

"Shouldn't you be at the station?" she demanded, suddenly irritated and claustrophobic with only the two of them sitting in the dark, in his car.

"I'm off-duty."

She picked at the leather of the seat. "Lucky me," she muttered.

His head swiveled back to her.

She avoided his gaze, despite feeling it burn into her. Irrationally irritated, she flung the car door open. "I'm going for a walk. Listening to the police scanner doesn't cut it for me."

To her annoyance, he followed her.

"You don't have to come with me," she snapped. "I'm a big girl - I can handle myself."

"Who says I'm worried about you?" he replied mildly. "Maybe I'm worried about my own safety and I need you to protect me."

Damn it. A smile tugged at her lips, and she had to look away so he wouldn't see it.

They continued on for the next several minutes in silence, watching, listening. Then, as they turned down a smaller dark alley, Helena caught sight of someone lying near a dumpster.

"Q," she breathed, and rushed towards him. The two of them crouched beside the man. Helena went to check his pulse and pulled back sharply, gasping. "Q, look." With a gloved hand she gently turned the dead man's head to one side. All along the man's face was a neatly grafted scar. The man's face had been removed - and replaced with someone else's.

"Just like the man we found before," Question said grimly.

Helena rubbed her mask-covered eyes. "Why is that we're the ones finding these bodies on patrol? Why?" She shook her head and looked around, studied the area. "He's been here for an hour, at least."

"Two hours," said Question. "And dead for longer than that. No more than a day." He crouched beside her. "I know this man," he said suddenly. "Or rather... the body."

Helena frowned. "How?"

He leaned down and lifted up the man's pocket square. A small enamel black skull was pinned to the suit. Question tilted his head up towards her. "You know who he works for?"

Helena recognized the pin immediately. "Black Mask," she said.

"Black Mask."

After calling the police from a safe distance, Vic and Helena watched the scene from above, on an adjacent rooftop.

"We can look at the photos," he said suddenly. "From my place, if you'd like."

Helena glanced over at him, startled. He'd never invited her over. Not for anything. He protected his identity, his privacy more than a bulldog with a fresh hunk of steak.

"Sure," she said, hiding her curiosity. "Lead on, Q."

He hesitated, as if he'd expected her to say no. Instead, he nodded and led her back to his car, where he pulled out of the alleyway. Reaching to the back seat, she grabbed an oversized sweater and tugged it on over her costume. She pulled off her mask and tried to wriggle into a long cotton skirt. She could feel his eyes lingering on her, and she hid a grin.

"Eyes on the road, Q."

He said nothing in reply, but she saw his gloved hands tighten on the steering wheel.

They drove out of the Narrows and, to her surprise, into a fairly nice area of Gotham - the Old Gotham District. She knew that Mena worked at a gym nearby and made a mental note to visit her at some point.

Sage pulled in an underground parking garage of a mid-sized apartment building.

"I'm surprised, Q," she drawled as they pulled into a spot where one of the garage lights was out. "Expected a beaten-down apartment in the Narrows. This isn't bad."

"One good thing about being promoted," he said dryly. He pulled up his collar and tugged his fedora down over his nonexistent eyes. "Let's go."

They entered a very nice wood-paneled elevator. When they got off, he checked to make sure no one was coming down the hallway before nodding to her. She followed him, curious, into a pleasant mid-sized apartment. He dumped his keys on a hook and removed his long blue duster.

"Uh, make yourself comfortable," he said, suddenly awkward. "I just need to..." He motioned to his face.

"Oh, right." She bit her cheek and glanced towards the kitchen. "You got any wine?"

"Should have a few bottles in the glass cabinet there," he said, motioning behind her. "Glasses in the cupboard. Help yourself to anything you like."

"Don't mind if I do," she said. She pulled off her thigh-high boots and wriggled her bare toes on his cold kitchen floor. Flicking on the lights, she studied his place. Modern, simple, clean-cut. Definitely a bachelor pad. She'd expected a house full of clutter - something like you'd fight on a "Hoarders" nightmare episode. Not something like this. It was much nicer than her place at the edge of the Narrows, uptown.

Wandering around, Helena took the opportunity to study the small living room - she was shocked he owned a TV, considering it was him - and even tried to peek into his bedroom down the end of the short hallway. Through the slightly open door, she saw slate grey walls, simple linens. King-sized bed. Hmm. Very nice.

She drew back sharply as his form passed by the doorway. But he hadn't seen her. She took a step closer and peered inside. Sage paced around the room, unusually erratic. His mask was still in place. He removed his shirt with one swift move - and she sucked in a gasp.

Damn. The man is fine.

Sage pulled on a long-sleeve shirt and grabbed a can of something off his nightstand. He moved to the mirror and sprayed something over his faceless mask, peeling it off slowly. She couldn't help watching through the reflection bouncing off the mirror. She knew he wasn't exactly confident in his appearance, but she wasn't sure why. He wasn't the most classically attractive man by any means, but the ruggedness in his features and deep lines carved into the skin around his eyes, his creased forehead, and few scars on his scruffy chin only made her like his unique looks even more.

She bit her lip and looked away before he caught her staring at him. She'd always fallen for bad men. Stupid biker boys. Mafia thugs. But none of them had ever really meant anything. She'd once fallen for a man long ago in Sicily, a man from a rival mafia family. But he'd wanted his women docile and quiet. His father had been an abuser, and he'd followed the same path. It hadn't ended well.

She hadn't even told Diana all the horrible things she'd done to him - and his father - after he'd beaten her for the first - and only time. She wished sometimes that she could feel regret. She didn't.

Back in his kitchen, Helena cleared her throat and went back to pouring his glass of wine.

"So what do you think, Q?" she called out.

"I think we'll need more wine," came his low voice from just over her shoulder.

She jumped and nearly spilled the wine, letting out a curse in Italian. "For the love of St. Peter, Vic -" She turned and cut herself off, finding herself suddenly inches away from Vic's face. Felt his warm breath on her cheeks. Locked into an intense gaze of the greenest eyes she'd ever seen. Saw his adam's apple bobbing below a sturdy jaw covered in deep red scruff.

For a long, seemingly endless beat, neither of them moved. Then, he leaned closer. She felt herself rise up on her tiptoes to meet his lips -

After what a torturously long wait, Vic abruptly pulled back and looked away.

"Wine," he said, his voice even more gruff than normal. "I'll get it."

She shivered, letting his baritone wash over her. He reached past her and took both wine glasses.

Helena stood there, struggling to regain her breath after he'd turned away to place the glasses on the table.

Damn you, Victor Sage.

Philomena

Mena wished she hadn't so foolishly, ignorantly accepted Officer Lawrence's request to go out. While he was kind and sweet enough, he was so very young. He still carried with him that aura of a youth, just barely a man. He was a good cop and an even better man - of that there was no question. Open-hearted, earnest. Honest.

But as they spent the afternoon and evening together, she realized she felt no... pull. No attraction. The other Amazons had always teased her of her love of brusque, burly men, and while she'd had her affairs and dalliances in the past, she'd never truly settled on anyone who wasn't the most brutal and powerful of warriors.

She needed to make sure that he knew she intended to go no further than friendship.

Especially not when she was already starting to feel something quite strong for another man.

"Mena, you look... uh, wow. You look amazing," Lawrence had stammered when he'd picked her up at a coffee shop downtown.

"Thank you, Officer Lawrence."

"Nick."

"Nick. Thank you. I'm sure you look very nice as well."

He'd laughed nervously. "Yeah, well. I try. Shall we?"

They'd gone to the park, the amusement park, and had walked around one of the nicer areas of downtown Gotham. She had to admit that he made her laugh, but she also couldn't help feeling so much older than he - not just in body, but in soul. He was young and exuberant, but also naive. She appreciated his innocence and drive to protect his foster brother Jason. He was a good man. But she knew that the attraction wasn't there - at least on her part.

She resolved to give the entire day a try, almost hoping that things would change. She wouldn't mind spending a little less time around her sisters at this point. Not that they weren't off formulating their own careers - Artemis, surprisingly more than any of them - but still. They all lived in the same house. As massive as it was, she was ready for a change. Something new, something on her own, possibly. She'd spent the last twenty years locked up in prison, and while from her perspective, it'd only seemed like a second amidst a lifetime of thousands of years - but even so. She knew she wasn't immortal any longer. Every second counted, and she wanted to make them count.

The two of them were finishing off the night with coffee and dessert at a small cafe near Ted's gym. It was one of Diana's favorite places to take Cass and Dick after school, and she and Diana had spent several long afternoons there after training with Ted. A flash of regret fizzled through her. Poor Diana. She couldn't help but be concerned about the young Amazon goddess. Growing up in the pits of Gotham hadn't helped quell her fierce, indignant temper. If anything, it'd enabled it. Not that Diana didn't have control, but now... with the power of a war god...

She'd have to trust that Diana would get through this. Somehow. With her young children and fiancee at her side, Diana almost didn't have a choice. She would have to get through this. One way or another.

Mena shifted in her seat, waiting for Nick to return with their desserts. The door to the cafe swung open, and the warm late spring breeze wafted through her nostrils. The rich, vibrant scents of the city lingered in her senses, just before she caught the scent of something all-too familiar. Rich leather. Indigo. Heady, musky cologne.

Oh, no.

She flushed, turning her face away from the doorway. Why on earth was he here, in a place like this?

Before she could lift her hand to try and block her face, she could feel him, even through the crowd of people, draw closer.

"Bright Eyes? Thought that was you," he grunted, pushing past someone to stop by her small table. "Didn't think this kinda joint was your thing."

Mena felt herself going warm. "It's... something I'm trying."

"Oh, yeah? How come?" He took the seat across from her.

Oh, no. Oh, no.

"Just experimenting," she said. "Trying new things. New experiences. I haven't had the chance to really get out in so long, I... Well." How could she explain this to Lawrence? More importantly, how would she explain Ted to Lawrence?

As she scrambled to think of how to avoid a possible fist-fight - but she didn't really see that happening - Lawrence's voice startled her from her musings.

"Mena? Uh, hi?" he said to Ted, stopping in front of the table.

An awkward pause lingered among the three.

"Oh. Uh, right," said Ted finally, and dragged his chair back. He rose to his feet. "Didn't realize... Just catching up. I'll let you two, uh, get back to it."

"Ted, this is Nick Lawrence," Mena said hastily. "Nick, this is Ted Grant. He owns the boxing gym that I work at."

"Oh, right, of course," said Nick, his voice cheerful. Slightly forced, but only slightly. She could hear them shake hands. "Nice to meet you. Mena's been telling me all about her work there. I hear she's a great fighter."

"The best," said Ted.

Mena swallowed.

"I was just saying how I'd have to stop by sometime soon," Nick continued. "I've been looking for a new place to practice."

Ted grunted something noncommittal.

"I guess I'll see you later, Bright Eyes," he said finally, and disappeared among the throng of customers.

"Nice to meet you!" Nick called after him. Retaking his seat across from her, he let out a small laugh. "He seems uh, friendly."

Mena felt her indignance rise. "He's a good man. One of the best. Perhaps rough around the edges, but a true warrior and a kind and noble man."

Silence briefly lingered between them, growing like a deepening chasm. She wondered if she'd defended him too heartily too quickly.

"I'm sure he is," said Nick finally. She could hear him chewing on his lip. "I hate to ask, but... there's nothing... going on between you two, is there?"

Mena hesitated. "No, there isn't," she said, and wondered why that fact disappointed her so much.

The small island getaway had been just what we'd all needed. Or, at least, so I'd thought in the beginning. But when that familiar warm tropical breeze assaulted my senses, and I saw nothing but sea and sand and sky, unwanted memories flooded back. Memories of Themyscira. Of Hippolyta. Of how I'd nearly died, nearly been slaughtered by my supposed sisters. Of how I'd barely escaped with my life.

As I stood on the balcony of Bruce's extravagant villa overlooking the breathtaking view, I had to shut my eyes. Why did everything seem to come back to Ares? To the secret I still kept from Bruce?

"Di?" Bruce's voice pulled me from my dark thoughts. He came up beside me and placed a hand around my waist, frowning. "What's the matter?"

I forced a smile and shook my head. "Nothing. I'm just... I just can't stop thinking about Gotham. I think I'm getting worse than you," I teased, poking him in the chest.

He smiled dryly, but I knew that he didn't believe me.

"C'mon," I said, tugging him inside. "I haven't gone swimming in forever." Since Themyscira. "Let's go."

"I think we better," he said. "If we don't, our children may never forgive us."

I laughed and went to go change, determined to put Gotham - and everything else - behind me. At least for this weekend.

The beach was lined with pristine white sand. Clear aquamarine water sparkled in the warm sunlight. I turned my face up to the sun and inhaled. Beside me, with Cass on his shoulders, Bruce smiled.

"I guess you don't have to worry about wrinkles, do you?" he said wryly. He swung Cass down and pressed a kiss to her head. She took off across the sand after Dick, giggling like crazy. The two of them raced into the waves, Dick shrieking with joy and Cass laughing breathlessly. The very picture made my heart ache with happiness. Determined to join them, I pulled off my kaftan and discarded my sandals and sunglasses by the blanket on the sand. Behind me, I heard a sharp intake of breath.

I turned to find Bruce's eyes glittering a more intensely deep blue than I'd ever seen. I'd forgotten what I was wearing underneath. A simple red bikini, but it was more revealing than anything I'd really ever worn in front of him.

Before I could say anything, he pulled me to him and breathed, "You're so beautiful." And kissed me like I hadn't been kissed in years.

"Eugh!" Dick's cry finally forced us to surface. "You guys are so gross sometimes!"

Bruce and I grinned at each other.

"You want to say that again?" Bruce demanded sharply, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. Before Dick could respond, Bruce took off towards the water and dove into the waves, tossing Dick into the crystal-clear water. I laughed and followed suit. I would enjoy these moments with my precious family. I would enjoy them and think of nothing else. Grinning, I dove underwater and surfaced right beside Cass. I pressed a kiss to her wet hair and held her tightly. I hadn't seen Bruce this truly happy in months. I would burn these memories into my brain.

Later that night, after a long dinner of seafood and dessert, the kids had passed out, exhausted from the day's activities. Bruce and I retreated to our balcony-level bedroom overlooking the beach and let the moonlight flood through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"I'm so glad we did this," I breathed, stretching out on the bed. The warm night air billowed through the curtains. "This was very, very much overdue."

Bruce nodded, oddly lost in his own thoughts. "I agree." He removed his shirt, distant.

I sat up. "You okay?"

"What? Oh, fine." He removed his watch. "I just think you're right. I never thought I'd say this, but getting away from Gotham is good. For all of us."

I didn't like the strange note in his voice. "It is."

"And... I think you might've needed it... more than any of us," Bruce said slowly.

Now I frowned. "What are you saying?" When he didn't answer, I added, oddly irritated, "I know I've been... stressed. A little over-enthusiastic at times, yes, but, Bruce - we have assassins after us. After us - as both of our identities. After our children, too, no doubt. Of course I've been tense." A sudden flash of anxiety flooded through me. Did he know? Was he trying to get information out of me? Was he interrogating me, somehow? I shoved those seeds of doubt and indignation down immediately. Of course not. He was only worried about me. He had every right to be.

Bruce didn't look at me. "I know, Diana. But even you have to admit that you've been taking this... farther than usual lately."

"It's not like I've killed anyone, Bruce," I snapped.

He licked his lips. "I'm not saying that. I'm just saying that you haven't' exactly been... yourself." Now he looked at me.

Heaviness settled into my chest, my stomach. That same tension, deep, ever-present ache in the pit of my stomach twisted. "You didn't bring us here just to get away on a family trip, did you."

Bruce turned away, facing the window. He knew it was no good lying to me. "No."

I bit the inside of my cheek. "So why, then?"

He dragged a hand through his hair. "Because I was afraid, Diana. I am afraid."

"Afraid. Of what." I licked my lips. "Of me?"

"Yes. In a way." He turned back to face me, and there was that grave, steely flint to his eyes. "Afraid for you, Diana. Of what you're becoming."

"What-"

"Your eyes, Diana. Your eyes changed, when you were fighting."

I blinked. "They... what?"

"For one second, for just a split second, they weren't your eyes anymore. They were, but they were also someone else's."

My hands fisted into the sheets. "Ares. They looked like Ares', didn't they."

He nodded. "Yes." A deep, almost angry glitter settled in his eyes. "So you know, then."

I bolted out of the bed. "Why didn't you tell me?" I started pacing. "Why didn't you talk to me?"

"Would you have listened?"

"Of course I would've, I..." I sank onto the bedroom chaise, trembling. "No. You're right. I probably wouldn't have listened."

He came up and crouched before me. "Di, tell me what's really going on. Let me in. Please." He reached for my hands.

But I pulled away. His jaw hardened.

"Bruce, I..." I covered my eyes, shaking my head. I looked away towards the moonlight streaming through the window, holding back tears. "It's worse than you think."

"We'll face it together. We always have."

"This... this might be different." I let out a slow, shaky breath. "You might've suspected. You probably have. But... when I killed Ares, it left a... vacuum of sorts."

I felt, rather than saw his posture shift. He rose to his feet, and when I looked up at him, dreading what I would see, dreading that knowing, grave, hardened expression... I was not disappointed. It nearly broke me.

"It's you," he said, his voice low. "You replaced him. You are the new god of war."

"I didn't know," I murmured. "Mena had to tell me. I mean... I guess I did know. I have known, for a while. Deep down."

"But you're an Amazon. You're not -"

"The daughter of a god?"

His jaw flexed. "Right."

I looked away. "The second I killed Ares, his power transferred to me. I've been trying to fight it, trying to hold it back, but... I think Athena is trying to bring it out of me. She's trying to force it out of me, to make me lose control. To use it against me. To ensure I'll destroy everyone I love."

He turned away again, dragging a hand across his jaw. "Is there any way to... get rid of it? To stop being the god of war?"

"I don't know. You know I'm not on the best of terms with the other Olympians. My mother's even - she's sworn them off entirely."

"I don't blame her," he said grimly. "But Di, there has to be something you can do. Something we can do to fight this."

"Is there? How can you fight being the god of war, Bruce? What if I can't do anything about it?" A sudden realization sent cold tendrils of horror through me. "Bruce... What if... Am I immortal now?" My heart rate doubled, and we locked eyes. "I can't... I can't do this. I can't. I won't. I can't watch you die - watch everyone I care about die. I won't go on and on, lingering - I -"

In two long strides, he was back at my side, and pulled me into his arms. I sank my head onto his bare shoulder, shaking. He cradled the back of my head.

"We're going to figure this out," he said quietly, firmly. "You will not suffer like this, Diana. If I have to march up to your gods myself, I will. If I have to go to the depths of the Underworld and plead to Hades, I will." He pulled me back and wiped away a stray tear. "We will solve this. Understand?"

I nodded, wiping at my nose.

"Good." He pressed a kiss to my lips. "Now get back into that bed."

I hesitated. "Bruce, we still need to -"

"No. You're exhausted. You need to sleep." He kissed me again, deeply, lingering. But there was a tension in his lips. A tightness in his shoulders.

I curled up under the covers, knowing that nothing would be the same. Knowing that deep down, everything between us had changed.

I didn't sleep.

Bruce Wayne

He knew Diana wasn't truly sleeping. But when he saw his com blinking red in the darkness of the room, he still slipped out of bed and crept out of the room, inexplicably guilty as he did so. Once in his office, he turned on his com.

"Jim, what's up?"

"Bruce, hey," Jim's tired voice greeted him. "Sorry to interrupt. I really am."

"Don't worry about it, Jim. Tell me what's wrong," said Bruce gravely, already pulling up his computer. Thinking about anything other than Diana being the new god of war would be a welcome distraction. But of course, he wouldn't tell Jim that.

"I've sent you some photos - pretty gruesome. Even for Gotham," Jim said. "I wouldn't have called you unless I thought it was something urgent, which it looks like it's turning out to be."

Bruce flipped through the photos one by one. "They're the same as the one from before. We've got a serial killer on our hands."

"Looks like. We found two more bodies tonight. Huntress and that man - Question - located one in the Narrows. Officer Lawrence and uh, his date - Philomena - found another in the Old Gotham District only about twenty minutes ago, so it's spread out over Gotham. But there's something else. We don't know whose faces they belong to, but... the bodies are identified as low-ranking members in the organization of Black Mask."

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "He's on our list. One of the people hired by Hush to come after us. I wondered when he'd start showing his face. So to speak."

"So to speak," echoed Jim dryly. "But these men are dead. Their faces removed, God knows why. This isn't Black Mask targeting you. Someone's going after Black Mask - but we have no idea who or why."

"He must have a lot of enemies," Bruce said. "That first man we found could've been the first practice victim. Someone's sending a message to Black Mask. Who and why - that we have to answer."

"I know. Again, I wouldn't have bothered you, but... two in one night."

Bruce dragged a hand through his hair. "No, you were right to call me. Send me everything you have, all case notes, everything. I'll look it over."

A pause.

"Thanks, Bruce. I mean it."

"You don't have to thank me. I mean it," Bruce echoed, then ended the call. He leaned back, stretched, and cracked his neck.

Another sleepless night awaited him.

The second Bruce sneaked out of the room, I bolted upright. My fists curled into the sheets. Inexplicably angry, I hurled the bedclothes across the room and hopped to my feet, pacing in front of the moonlight-flooded windows. The moon. Athena. Artemis. Ares.

You are the new god of war.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch something. I wanted to... I didn't even know what I wanted anymore. Frustrated tears pricked my eyes as I collapsed onto the edge of the bed, burying my face in my trembling hands. What was I supposed to do with this? I'd never asked to be a god. I'd never asked to replace the bringer of chaos. The bloodthirsty god of war. The god who revelled in fear, in terror, in horror.

The wind blew gently through the open window. A shadow fell across my bed, and I looked up sharply.

A man stood there, shrouded in shadow. Barely a man.

I glared up at him. "Hades," I greeted the bespectacled god.

"Diana," said my father. "It's good to see you."

"I wish I could say the same." I didn't move from my seat at the end of the bed.

"I suppose I should congratulate you," he said. "You're truly one of us now."

I grit my teeth. "I want you to take this away from me."

He averted his eyes and sighed. "I can't."

I scowled, already feeling the rage of Ares overpowering me. Burning through my veins, my bones. Driving me, whispering at me to slice skin, to watch as blood poured out of him. To see if the god of death would truly die. I shuddered at these thoughts and forced them away. "You are one of the old gods. One of the first. You can give or take away power if you want."

"Only Zeus has the power to take it away. Ares was his son, Diana. Or... if obviously, if another god kills you."

"So where the hell can I find Zeus?" I demanded impatiently.

He hesitated again. "I don't know, Diana."

My eyebrows flew upward. "You. Don't. Know."

"No. After Ares died, Zeus flew into a frenzy of rage and grief. He... disappeared months ago in the mortal world. We haven't heard or seen him since."

I rubbed my temples. Just perfect. "And there's no way to locate the king of the gods?"

"Not if he doesn't want to be found."

I was trying very hard to check my temper. "Do you have any idea where he'd go? Mistresses? Vacation houses? Bars?" My tone grew more acidic by the second.

"All of the above, unfortunately," he replied dryly. "But no. We've checked everywhere. Hera's actually starting to get a bit concerned, and if she's getting concerned..."

I threw up my hands. Family drama I didn't have time - or energy to handle. And frankly, the second I saw Zeus, I'd probably slice his head off, and he and Hades both knew it.

"So what am I supposed to do?" I demanded, forcing back frustrated tears. "Wait until he shows up in a thousand years or so? Throw a Miss Universe contest and hope he shows up?"

He let out a dry laugh. "He'd be a judge, you know it. He was always a pathetic man-whore."

"You're so helpful," I snapped, bolting to my feet. "I can't stay like this, Hades. I won't."

"You don't have a choice, Diana. At least - not in that regard. But you do have a choice with the gifts given to you," he added gravely. "Being the god of war does not mean you have to follow the path of Ares. Athena is also a warrior goddess, and yet, she is also a goddess of wisdom."

"A goddess of wisdom who's trying to destroy me," I snarled.

"Well, yes. I never said she wasn't ruthless. Or vain. Or vengeful. But she can use her strengths to create calculated attacks, Diana. You - now being the god of war - can use that against her. If you can learn to control your rage, your bloodlust - which is already going to be difficult, considering your Amazonian heritage - you will defeat her. Athena is no match for Ares's power. And certainly no match for yours." He smiled. "I have faith in you."

But only coldness lingered inside my chest. Emptiness. "If only I could say the same," I said quietly.

His eye twitched, but otherwise he didn't move.

A pause.

"Am I immortal now?" I asked finally.

He hesitated. "Diana... You always were."

Thoughts?

I promise I intend on finishing this story. I always have. It does take me a while to update, but I intend on completing this sequel.

Thanks so much!

Christy