Free Avenging (The Rising Series Book 3) by Holly Kelly

experienced cold until now. The bowels of Hades’ realm were always blazing hot. That was the way those Underworlders preferred it.
    Despite the cold, the scratches on Ares arms burned from where the mother clawed him. He could have healed the injuries immediately. Instead, he chose to hold onto them, as he also held onto the anger. The mother had forgotten the events of that night. She’d fought with all the power she could muster. He deflected the blasts of her puny god powers easily, but then she’d clawed him like an animal as he picked up her baby. Now she didn’t remember she’d ever borne a child—he suppressed the memories himself. He suppressed the memories of this child from all the gods in the Underworld. But the mother would feel his anger and loathing every time he was forced to suffer her presence on Olympus. She should have respected his position—as second in command to his father, Zeus—she should have denied him nothing! Not even her child.
    Finally reaching the top, Ares stepped up to a large, wooden door. It swung open at his silent command. He stepped into a round, stone room with wide windows. Zeus stood before a curtained wall. Ares admired the raw power that radiated from his father. He subdued it when others were around, but there was no reason now. Up here, above the clouds, he let his radiance shine brightly. If Ares were a human, his eyes would have burned away in their sockets.
    “Son! I see you do not disappoint,” Zeus said as he stepped forward and lifted the blanket. Zeus closed his eyes and breathed in deeply the scent of burning oak. “I can feel the power of this one. Incredible! Fire burns hot within you, son of Kharon.”
    “Father…” Ares was hesitant to speak his mind, but his father needed to hear. “In the last week, three more goddesses discovered they are with child. That makes five pregnant goddesses. One or even two, we can handle. But five? We may have to let them keep some of these infants.”
    “They are not keeping them.”
    “But Father, we’d have to alter the memories of all the gods and goddesses in the Greek Pantheon. That would take more power than—”
    “Bring me the five mothers,” Zeus interrupted.
    “What?” Ares thought he must have heard his father wrong.
    “I said, bring me the mothers. Give them any reason you want, but bring them to me.”
    Ares couldn’t think of why he would want these women. Only one of the goddesses was from Olympus. Of the others, two were from the Underworld and two from the sea. One of the goddesses was Amphitrite, wife of Poseidon. Toying with her while she was carrying the sea king’s child was dangerous. Ares hoped his father knew what he was doing.
    “What if their husbands insist on accompanying them?”
    A smile crept across Zeus’ face. “Let them.”
    “I must warn you that one of them is Amphitrite,” Ares said.
    “Excellent,” Zeus said.
    Ares couldn’t help the astonishment in his voice. “Is it time?”
    “It’s time,” Zeus answered with a wicked smile.

 

    Triton’s stone necklace burned against his skin. Someone summoned him. It was early in the morning. Perhaps Nicole was still sleeping. Triton floated comfortably in his sleeping chamber, wishing he could sleep a bit longer. Why didn’t sea creatures need his help in the middle of the day? It was always in the dead of night or early in the morning.
    He closed his eyes and focused on the origin of the summons—the Indian ocean, deep in the Somali basin. A vision opened before him. Darkness, pain, the smell of rubble, and the whimpered cry of a Dagonian child. Triton’s brows pressed in confusion. This was the first summons he’d had from a Dagonian in the last two thousand years. After the cursed race killed all of his children, they feared Triton’s wrath—as they should. He would have struck down an adult for summoning him. But a child—never. Still, why would this child choose him to reach out to? Why not Calypso? Still,