So then they led us into this huge room, all bright light and shiny white marble. There was a slew of big (white!) cushions on the floor. Looming above them was a big chair, almost a throne, thickly padded and covered in (yes, you guessed it, WHITE!) soft leather.

"Make yourselves comfortable,"

"The other guests will be arriving soon."

Fuck, but it was annoying, those two finishing each other's sentences like that all the time. I was glad when they flitted off to wherever. Of course, that left me alone with Strife, which was enough to put me on edge. I tried to hang on to being irritated, since it was better than being scared.

"So. Would this be a good time to tell me more or less what the fuck's going on?"

Strife smirked at me as he flopped down on one of the big cushions. He wrinkled his nose at me, which only made him look like some kind of deranged shiny black rabbit. "We're waiting for the party to start."

"I'm serious."

"Well, we are. Nike throws really bitchin' parties, too, we're gonna have an awesome time."

"Not if you don't tell me what the fuck is going on. Okay?"

He rolled his eyes at me, the little prick. "All right, chill. So. Discord's got this itch to put a major hurting on you."

"Which of course makes no sense."

"Easier to be mad at you than at Ares. I mean, she pulls that High Queen Wicked Badass shit on mortals all the time, but if she tried it on him she'd be toast in, like, no time." He grabbed me and pulled me down onto the cushion with him. "So, while Uncle Ares was, uh, distracting her, I brought you here."

I leaned back, resting on one elbow. The cushion was really soft... I couldn't feel the floor through it. "Here being, precisely?"

"Sparta. Nike's temple."

"And this is good because?"

"Nike's got, like, major clout." He rolled over onto his belly, propping up his chin in his hands. "She's the goddess of victory, so Ares doesn't wanna get her pissed off at him, especially now."

"Now?"

"Oh, shit, yeah, you wouldn't know. Uh, ok, stuff mortals would know... Athena."

"Goddess of Wisdom, right?" That, at least, I knew.

"Yeah, only she's decided she wants to branch out."

"So what's the problem?"

"She's branching out into war stuff. Tactics, mostly. Not really a new thing, but she's been putting in kind of a push lately. Been makin' nice with a bunch of generals. So, Ares is cheesed off at her bigtime." He snickered. "Not that they ever got along."

"Oooookay," I stretched my legs out. It felt great. "So how does Nike fit in?"

"Well, Unc's not always the most, uh, diplomatic guy..."

Well, I couldn't NOT laugh at that. "Thought you were telling me things I didn't know."

Strife rolled his eyes. "I'm getting' there, `kay? Anyhow, so he's not always on the best of terms with Nike, and..."

"And Athena is, right?" Figures. Why would god politics be any more rational than human politics?

"I knew you'd catch on."

I glanced up at a barely perceptible noise, to see Nike striding into the room. I tried not to stare. I don't think I did a very good job. She was still naked, but there were now heavy gold rings adorning her nipples, and a flash of gold peeking through her pubic hair. I swallowed, hard. If she noticed, she ignored it.

"Strife. If you misbehave at this gathering, you will regret it. Understood?" I barely made out the words, I was so busy listening to her voice.

"Who, me, misbehave?"

"And as for you," Oh shit! She was talking to ME! "You're getting a rare honor. The only other mortals at this feast will be my servants, and some captives that have been offered to me as tribute. If you cause any trouble, you'll wish you were one of them."

I don't think she was expecting an answer. I hope she wasn't, because I wasn't really able to speak at that moment. About then, the rest of Nike's guests began to arrive.

Now, I'm not usually the shy type, but this was different. Not only did I not know anyone, chances were that anyone I ticked off could blast me into oblivion, or make me wish they had. Or at least curse me with bad breath or something. It sure didn't help when Strife caught sight of someone he wanted to talk to and took off, leaving me to fend for myself. I practiced being inconspicuous, and listened to what snatches of conversation drifted my way. By the time a familiar face came to my rescue, I was damn near desperate.

"Y'know, Red, you're a whole lot cuter when you're not bleeding internally." Cupid was giving me this kind of wry grin that was almost a smirk. Standing next to him, with an arm curled loosely around his waist, was this tall, skinny chick with big green eyes and an inhumanly thick mane of curly black hair.

"So, C, who's the mortal?" She raised one too-perfect eyebrow. "She's not yours, is she?"

Cupid made a face at her. "Yeesh, Peitho, rude much?" He turned to me. "Jasne, this lovely but regrettably ill-mannered damsel is Peitho. Peitho, this is Jasne. She's here with Strife."

"Strife? You're shitting me, right?" She certainly sounded surprised, but at least she didn't seem hostile. "So. Jasne, that's not a Greek name. Scythian?"

Wow, she was actually acknowledging that I could talk. "Yeah. Pazyryk."

That seemed to get her interest. "So, you're a long way from home."

"Oh, I was born in Corinth... my grandmother, she came to Greece with her sister when they were pretty young." This was really weird, making small talk with some minor deity at feast thrown by Nike. Not that it was any weirder than anything else in my life these days.

Actually, hanging out with Cupid and Peitho was kind of fun. Listening to them gossip was neat even though I didn't know the people... mostly, the GODS!... they were sharing dirt on.

"So apparently she really wants a kid, and he CAN'T." Peitho grinned smugly as she related her newest tidbit.

"Well, duh. I mean, she knew all along Hades was lord of the underworld. Gods of the Dead can't father kids, it's, like, natural law or something. Like Osiris." That from a violet-eyed youth who I hadn't actually been introduced to, but Peitho had addressed him as Himerus.

Cupid sighed. "Yeah, Persephone's never been overly bright, but I do feel sorry for her."

"Well I don't." Peitho sniffed. "She's always thought she was so perfect, it's about time she found out she can't always get her way."

"I don't get it," Himerus said. "If it's Hades who can't, why doesn't she, just, you know..." He giggled like a damn 12 year old. What is it with gods and immaturity, anyway?

Peitho chuckled. "Oh, but she WON'T. She's... uh... monogamous."

"No way!" Himerus stared at her. "Demeter's daughter? DEMETER'S daughter doin' the 'one and only' bit? That'd be like Big C here being monogamous!"

Cupid snorted. "Yeah, like Psyche would stand for that. If I was, SHE'D have to be!"

About that time I could feel someone standing behind me. Strife. I didn't even have to look, I just knew, somehow.

"Hey, what're ya filling her ears with that drivel for?" Yep. Definitely Strife.

"Well what did you expect, leaving her with the kissy-face squad?" Now, that voice I didn't know.

I tipped my head back. Strife was standing over me, looking down and grinning.

"Hey Jasne, I wanted you to meet my old friend Zelos."

Zelos. Oh yeah, Nike's younger brother. He looked it, too. Shorter, but with the same wiry build, same dark skin, similar black tattoos. His hair was silvery white, though, and hung in shaggy locks, hiding his face.

About then I started feeling weird, like the hair on the back of my neck was standing on end. Something was going to happen. I didn't have anything rational to base this on, but I couldn't shake the feeling.

That was also when Nike's servants started bringing in the food. Now, I thought I had some idea of what to expect there. I've seen the kinds of feasts rich folks have, and the sort of food they serve there. When I'd been posing as a servant I'd helped prepare a ghastly dish consisting of a squab, stuffed into a chicken, stuffed into a duck, stuffed into a goose. Not to mention the heavily seasoned sauces, sticky sweet desserts, greasy little fried things, and too-strong wine.

The food being brought out by Nike's loincloth-clad servants couldn't be more different. Bread, crusty and still warm. Olive oil of the highest quality, green and rich-smelling. Grape-sized knobs of mild white cheese. Peppercorns, whole, and a mortar and pestle. Roast lamb, fragrant with rosemary. Sweet-smelling peaches and peeled sections of oranges.

Strife reached for some bread with one hand and put the other one around my waist. "Sorry to ditch you like that," he breathed in my ear, " but me `n Zelos go way back, and we haven't talked in like, AGES."

The food tasted even better than it looked or smelled. I would have enjoyed it more if I didn't still have that feeling, like something big was about to happen. Not so much a foreboding as just expectation, but still, preoccupying, and getting stronger every moment. I stayed quiet, and did my best to listen to the background noises rather than the blur of conversation. I heard... something?... and even as I turned to look, I recognized it as the tread of someone in heavy boots.

And I knew, of course. Glancing over my shoulder just confirmed it Ares didn't seem surprised that I knew he was there. He met my eyes as he spoke.