We wish we owned them; we'd treat them better than their owners sometimes have. But we don't.

-X- -X- -X- -X- -X-

The trouble with Greek clothing, I think in the aftermath of whatever happened at the ritual, is that it has no pockets or other places to conceal the weapon. I have to hold the Arrow of Strife next to my body, obscured only by the folds of my robe. Still, I like the feel of it. I never want to use it again, but its weight in my hand is some comfort.

I look around and have never been so glad I'm an acrobat. I'm used to seeing things from a variety of angles as I ride the jumplines across the rooftops, so this weird place with vertical roofs and ponds, and diagonal forests is only a little unsettling. And then I realize I've been here before. Olympus. Nothing good ever happened on Olympus, in my experience.

But if this is Olympus, then maybe … "Donna?"

I search but see no one else. Instead, some of the skewed buildings, gardens, and forests draw near and I can see figures beginning to materialize in various poses.

"She is otherwise occupied," a voice overhead booms in response.

I look up and see a gray-bearded man seated on a throne carved with lions and eagles. He looks different than I remember. "Zeus, I presume."

"Take care, human. Presume nothing in the home of the gods." That rough bass voice has to be Ares. The god steps forward from what appears to be a battlefield. He is dressed in black armor, from helm to boots, but his sword remains sheathed. That is another small comfort. There aren't many to be had here.

"Am I incorrect?" I can see that Ares is used to intimidating people, even other gods, and it's all I can do not to laugh. When it comes to intimidation, Ares has nothing on Bruce. I watch the war god's attitude shift from adversarial to cautious neutrality.

"Oooh." A female voice, made for phone sex. I look down to my right and see a blonde woman in a short toga sitting on a marble bench well below me. She is brushing her hair. "I did bless this one, didn't I? How could I have forgotten?"

I'll never grouse about the Amazons' ritual robes again. If it didn't touch my feet, Aphrodite -- who else could it be? -- would be getting a view I prefer to share by choice. Harper would jump at the invitation in her voice, but all I can think is that I'd rather have Donna.

"You are here to be tested," Zeus announces, ignoring Aphrodite. "Her choice must be deemed worthy."

Liar. Why do I think that so instantly? It's a starburst of certainty in my mind, and when I stop to analyze how I got here from there, I realize that Zeus' posture, the set of his heavily bearded jaw, even the cadence of his words fit together to form only one pattern. The Olympian lord wants to distract, not test.

Which is not to say that a test might not be involved. Given that these are Greek deities, the odds are that any test will involve a fight. At least I have powers to fight with, now. Running over them again is another kind of comfort. Speed, flight, strength, healing. The ability to see patterns where I couldn't before. That last gift, apparently, is astute enough to allow me to even read the gods, as I just read the lie in Zeus.

And then I hit a wall. Hecate's gift is still a mystery. I can only hope that it's not the one power I'll need most here. To need it and not know what it is could be fatal. Not that I've ever minded dying. In a lot of ways, I've been living on borrowed time since the night my parents died. I was supposed to be up there with them, but at the last minute, my father decided I needed more practice. I hated the decision then, but it saved my life. If I lose my life now, well, it's been a good run.

Awareness tickles my mind. I'm not the only one at risk here. I still don't know what's happened to Donna, nor what these gods want to do with her. I can live with dying if I have to, but if my ignorance leads to her death, I'll never forgive myself.

Those thoughts flash through my mind in less than a heartbeat, and again I give silent thanks for the arrow in my hand. I'm not dumb enough to shift my grip on it when I look at Zeus again. "Why?"

Bushy eyebrows draw together, and thunder rolls behind Zeus' words. "You dare question me?"

"I'm not questioning you," I say. "I'm questioning the reasoning behind this test." I let my tone convey my doubt that it is truly a test, but I continue before anyone can call me on it. "Donna told me that you enchanted the ambrosia with gifts befitting her companion. That implies you knew who she'd choose. If you knew, and approved of, her choice, why are you testing me?"

Nobody protests that I'm not the right choice, and it's strange that I'm relieved at that. Sure, Donna told me she chose me, but now I know she chose correctly. I should feel guilty for not trusting her in that, but we both have been through too many strange relationships for trust to come easily.

"He has you there, husband." That's Hera, has to be. She's strolling through a formal garden, and now I really know what it means to be a queen. I thought Diana was regal, but Hera must've invented the term. And then it hits me that she's on my side. "There is no need for mock tests. Allow him to bide in peace here until the task is accomplished."

She may be on my side, but she's made the back of my mind crawl. This is important. "What task?"

"It is not your concern," Zeus says. "It is for your lover to complete."

-X-

Artemis' crescent moon greeted Donna's gaze as she came awake. The silver sickle of light provided little illumination so far outside the city, so it was difficult at first to tell precisely where she was. She could make out the tops of trees shivering in the breeze, and to her left a mass of black shadow that could only be a cliff or wall.

"Good, you are awake." The voice belonged to the priestess. Penelope. Had she been trapped as well? And why were they both alive if they had been taken by the murderer?

"Can you stand? Are you free?" Donna pulled herself to her knees and then to her feet. Her head swam briefly, but she seemed otherwise fine. "We need to get back and warn the others."

"There is no threat to the others."

"No threat--" The priestess' tone struck her suddenly -- too calm, too determined, no hint of fear. It wasn't courage behind that serenity. It was cunning. "You drugged me. Why?"

"For the gods." Penelope stepped closer and Donna's eyes had adjusted enough that she could make out some of the details around her. They stood next to Doom's Doorway, and were not alone. The guards at the door watched them from a respectful distance, each holding tight to her spear and shield.

"Is this a game, Priestess?" Donna snapped. "First you kidnap me. Now you speak in cryptic riddles. What is the purpose of so much deception?"

"This gateway can lead you to the underworld. More specifically, to the various chambers of the underworld. The inner door needs to be aligned to the specific chamber you are to enter."

Donna squinted at the massive door. No effort had been made to beautify the hatch. Rather, it was as if the designer had wished to convey the evil beyond in the sheer ugliness of the portal. Three slabs of flat stone, green-mottled and flecked with brown, stood at least twenty feet high. They were bound together with black steel bars that sprouted metal thorns. A massive wheel in the center worked an ungainly system of bars and bolts.

Penelope nodded to the guards. The women bowed low, then silently began to turn the huge wheel and open the door.

Donna rounded on the priestess again. "What makes you think I'm going to enter that pit without a full explanation?"

"One does not question the will of gods." Penelope's chin rose and her voice trembled.

"Maybe you don't. But I have only your word that this is their will." Donna matched Penelope's stubborn stance. "What is going on?"

"A monster escapes this door, Princess." If the title could be a curse, Donna would be damned by the priestess' tone. "It kills your sisters as it searches for you. It knows you are the one chosen by the gods to contain it."

Menalippe's warning came back to Donna full force. "Contain it?"

"For eternity, yes."

Eternity, fighting a monster? Just when she and Dick had found each other and could imagine a long life together? That wasn't fair. Even the gods could not be that cruel. She grabbed at the first escape she could see. "Why me? Surely someone more pious, or skilled in the ways of gods, would suit the task better."

Penelope shook her head. "Only you can do this task. Forgive me if I speak of delicate or painful matters. It is not my intention to cause you sorrow. But, the gods have spoken. They require this sacrifice."

"There's a saying that the truth hurts," Donna said. She wanted to walk away, but if what Penelope said was true, to do so would doom her sisters to death. "There has to be some other way."

Dick would think of a better way. Oh, Dick. She couldn't leave him without a word. He'd come to Themyscira to help them, to help her. He loved her. "Even if I do this, I can't enter there without seeing my love once more. Surely, even you see that."

"You cannot see him."

"Bitch!" Donna exploded. "Not you or your gods can stop me from telling the man I love goodbye."

"You cannot see him because he is no longer here. The gods have taken him to Olympus as a hostage. They feared you were not loyal enough to take your duty willingly."

Penelope stepped through the now-open portal and lifted a taper from the wall. The darkness in that cavern was so complete that Donna hadn't seen the tiny flicker of light from the taper until it was in her hand. The priestess took out a pinkish crystal and held the candle close to it. A prism of light burst against the cavern's back wall, briefly illuminating damp rock. Then, a portal not unlike those Raven used opened.

An eternal hostage. The plan seemed so obvious now that Donna almost laughed. Perfect and cruel -- she was to fight eternally and, if she lost heart, the threat to her now-immortal love would hold her to the cause.

"I have no choice," Donna bit out the words. She felt hollowed out, emptied of hope or joy. She wanted to turn her back on the gods, to curse them, kill them, hurt them at least. But she couldn't. Not unless she wanted to storm Olympus itself, and even with Dick and maybe Diana at her side, she would lose that battle. Her promised eternity would be over before it had begun. But then, it was over in any case.

She straightened her spine and glared at Penelope. "But, I want them to know I would have done it if asked. They didn't have to destroy Dick's life too. Tell them that the next time you speak with them, Priestess."

She turned toward the portal, stepped through.

-X-

"Donna's more than my lover," I snap at Zeus. He made the word sound so casual, and Donna and I have never been casual. "She's my teammate, my partner, my friend, and my love. I should be with her, helping her."

"You serve her better as muse," Zeus says. "You inspire her to do what she must. But, if you would share her task, I allow you to observe."

"Follow me." By the laurel in his hair and the lyre under his arm, I decide the newcomer is Apollo. Ares falls into step behind us, and together the gods escort me to a raised stone basin about four feet in diameter. I can see the bottom of the basin through the still, clear water in it.

Apollo and Ares flank me. They try to be casual about it, especially Ares, but I know that they're supposed to ensure all I do is observe. And they think it'll take more than one of them to do it. They must believe my new powers to be significant. I like that idea. It gives me options.

When I focus on the water in the basin, it ripples just a little before flattening into a glassy surface. A light flickers deep within and resolves itself into Donna. My throat aches to call to her, but I won't until I know what's going on.

She's floating in a gray mist, and the lines of her body tell me she's ready for some battle. The scene expands until I can see what she's facing and my own body tenses as if to join her.

It's a dragon, or else a giant snake, swimming through the air powered by a scaly, gray tail. Its fore-parts are what make my gut clench. Long arms end in taloned hands that make me think of the piece of kertin I pulled out of the dead Amazon. The monster has a female torso and three wild-haired heads with beaked noses and gaping, fanged mouths. I have no idea what to call it. It isn't human, but it appears to speak as if it were.

"What are you making her do?" I'd dive into the well, but I have no guarantees that would do anything other than give Aphrodite a better view than she's had before. Assuming that Ares and Apollo would let me make the leap.

"She must prevent the creature from escaping its prison," Zeus says. "We imprisoned it and others like it at the dawn of time. Now this child of god-killers seeks to break its cage."

"You expect Donna to kill that thing?" I look at the image again. Donna has no weapons, except her body and her brain. Against almost any foe, those would be more than enough. But Zeus just said this thing kills gods, and I saw what it did to the woman Timandra.

"Not kill," Ares says, though I think he'd like it if she did. "No one can do that. We have lost the ability to make weapons that will kill creatures made at the beginning of time. But, she will hold it. She is like it, created not born, and the prophecies say that only such a one can hold the child of Typheus at bay."

"Speaking of weapons." The new voice reminds me of a female Bruce. The thought is enough to make me look over my shoulder, away from Donna. The newcomer resembles Apollo too much for her to be anyone but Artemis. "The Amazons have my arrow. They performed the ritual to return it to me. Where is it?"

I turn, and I have to conceal a smile when Apollo stumbles aside, out of reach of the arrow I'm holding. That small gesture tells me it gives me a huge advantage. "I have it, Artemis. And I'm not ready to give it back yet."

-X-

Around her, Diana's sisters picked themselves up from where they'd fallen or taken cover when the lightning struck. No one seemed to be badly injured, she thought, but voices rose with high-pitched, frantic questions. "What does this mean?" "Are the gods angry?" "Are we in danger?" "Where is the handsome youth who held the arrow?"

Diana let the questions slip past her attention. Only the oracle would know the answers to these and other more important questions, Diana thought, if she still lived. She ran forward, leaping over the remains of the altar table to land gently beside Menalippe.

The oracle had jumped back, or been thrown by the force of the blast, apparently, and was only now struggling to sit up. Her eyes stared, wide with shock, at the remains of the ritual. She trembled, and Diana could remember only one other event that caused such fright in the oracle's expression -- that had led to the contest that made her Wonder Woman. She didn't want to think what this event might portend.

"Menalippe?" Diana rested a hand gently on the other woman's shoulder.

The oracle looked up at Diana, and for long moments there was no recognition in her eyes. Then she blinked. "Princess?"

"What's happened? Are the gods displeased?"

"I don't think so." Menalippe clasped Diana's hand so she could steady herself as she stood. "But, that is only the dimmest sense of things. It's as if a door has been closed to me. It was the same when I saw danger for Donna."

"What danger for Donna?"

"I felt she was in danger, but there were no specifics. I warned her, and then she was gone when I returned to complete preparations for the ceremony."

"Gone?" Fear knotted Diana's stomach and must've shown on her face, because Menalippe hurried to reassure her.

"I left her with the high priestess. And when I returned, the preparations were nearly complete. I was certain they'd gone on to more important duties and left the final preparations to me as officiant."

"Of course," Diana agreed, but thoughts of Donna were uppermost. She hadn't seen her sister at the ritual, and assumed she'd been lost in the press of bodies. Still, if Donna had attended, she'd be here with Diana, investigating, questioning. Therefore, Donna hadn't ever been here.

"With your leave, Princess?" Menalippe's question reminded her that there were others who needed reassurance as well, and Diana nodded absently.

She had to find Donna. Whatever danger the oracle had sensed, Diana wouldn't let her sister face it alone.

Diana was no detective, but she'd spent enough time with the best to know that you followed the trail as it presented itself. She didn't know where Donna might be now, but if, as the oracle said, Donna had last been with Penelope, then finding her was Diana's next step.

-X-

Hate is such an unfamiliar emotion. I may have hated Dark Angel when I realized what she'd done to me, but it was a sad, watery feeling. Like crying. This is heated and sharp, a blade fresh from the forge. I wish I had such a molten weapon as I face this monster, but the creature is not the focus of my hate.

It is the focus of my energy, however. I catch her tail. The scales cut my hands. A sharp twist and I feel her spine snap. She screams -- such a hideous wail that I feel a momentary pity ride the wave of my hatred.

I use her brief retreat to check my surroundings. Dick taught me to always be aware of place and how it can be used in a fight. This place, however, offers so little. I float in a void. Above, it's as purple as the edge of space. Below, it's freezing white. An endless dark sky meeting an endless miasma of weightless frost. No place for purchase, for landing. Fortunately, I am good at flying.

The monster recovers quickly. She is gray and muscular. An insane fury burns in her six eyes. Three heads, three brains, but I see no spark of intelligence in any of them. Her eyes are as cold and dead as a shark's. Maybe once she was a rational creature, capable of reason and thought. No more. I wonder if an eternity trapped in this featureless place destroyed what mind she had. That wondering leads to another: In the end, will I be as much a monster as she?

I have already killed her. Not once, but several times. Each melee eats a bit more of my compassion. Dick hates killing. I repeat it over and over, a mantra to remind myself who and what I have been, what I am, what I have to remain.

And that is the focus of my hate. I hate the gods who condemn me to tear myself away from everything he believes, everything I too believe. I hate the gods who would make me a monster.

A wail cuts through this hideous world, sharp as the wickedest knife blade. I cover my ears against the anger of that scream. The monster charges me again.