Author: Scarlett St. Clair
Genre: Fantasy, Romance
Year: 2021
Series: Hades X Persephone Saga
SUMMARY
“Take her, and I will destroy this world. Take her, and I will destroy you. Take her, and I will end us all.”
Hades, God of the Underworld, is known for his inflexible rule, luxurious night clubs, and impossible bargains. Used to control, he is not prepared to discover the Fates have chosen his future wife and Queen―Persephone, Goddess of Spring.
Despite her attraction to the god, Persephone, an ambitious journalism student, is determined to expose Hades for his cruel and ruthless ways. She defies him at every turn, even as the attraction between them explodes.
Hades finds himself faced with the impossible―proving his future bride wrong. Regardless of his efforts, there are forces who wish to keep the two apart and Hades comes to realize he will do anything for his forbidden love, even defy Fate.
CHAPTER I – A GAME OF BALANCE
Hades manifested near the Coast of the Gods.
In the sunlight, the shoreline boasted turquoise water and pristine, white beaches, all set before the backdrop of cliffs, grottoes, and a monastery made of white and green marble that could be accessed after ascending three hundred steps. Mortals flocked here to swim, sail, and snorkel. It was an oasis, up until the sun made its fiery descent in the sky.
After twilight, evil moved in the darkened night, beneath a sky of stars and an ocean of moonlight. It came on ships and moved across New Greece, and Hades was here to neutralize it.
He turned, the gravel crunching beneath his feet, and walked in the direction of The Corinth Company, a fishery that took up an extensive amount of real estate on the coast. The plaster façade of the warehouse blended flawlessly with the ancient architecture adorning the shoreline, appearing worn, bleached, and charming. A simple, black lamp highlighted a sign bearing the company’s name, written in a font that boasted prestige and power—admirable characteristics when they belonged to the best of society.
Dangerous when they belonged to the worst.
A mortal moved in the shadow. He had been there since Hades arrived and no doubt thought he was well hidden, which perhaps he was to other mortals, but Hades was a god and he owned the shadows.
As he passed, the man moved and Hades twisted, his hand biting down on the mortal’s. A gun was clutched in his fingers. Hades looked at the weapon and then at the man, a wicked smile crossing his lips.
In the next second, sharp spires extended from the tips of Hades’ fingers, sinking into the man’s flesh. His weapon clattered to the ground and he dropped to his knees with a guttural cry.
“Please spare me, my lord,” the man begged. “I did not know.”
Hades always found the seconds before a mortal’s death intriguing. Especially when he encountered one like this—one who had killed without thought and yet feared his own demise.
Hades tightened his hold, and as the man trembled, the god laughed.
“Your death is not imminent,” Hades said, and the mortal looked up. “But I will have words with your employer.”
“My employer?”
Hades almost groaned. So the mortal would play dumb.
“Sisyphus de Ephyra.”
“H-he’s not here.”
Lie.
The knowledge coated his tongue like ash, drying his throat.
Hades lifted the man by his arm, spikes still embedded in his skin, until their gazes were level. It was from this angle that Hades noticed a tattoo on the man’s wrist. It was a triangle, now spliced by the spears extending from his fingers.
“I do not need your aid to enter that warehouse,” Hades said. “What I need from you is an example.”
“A-An example?”
Hades decided to use actions to explain, carving two deep fissures in the man’s face. As blood coated his skin, neck, and clothes, the god dragged him to the entrance of the warehouse, kicked open the doors, and strolled inside.
What had looked like a building from the shore now appeared to be a wall, because instead of walking into an enclosed space, Hades found himself in a yard open to the inky sky above. The earth was bare, and there were large above-ground pools holding fish. The air smelled like ocean and rot and salt. Hades hated the stench.
Workers dressed in black jumpsuits turned to watch as the god pushed the bleeding mortal forward. The man floundered but caught himself before he hit the ground. Opposite Hades, another man approached, flanked by two large bodyguards. He was dressed in a white suit, and his fingers were fat and suffocated with gold rings. His hair was short and black, his beard manicured and threaded with silver.
“Sis, I-I-It wasn’t my fault,” the man said as he stumbled forward. “I—”
Sisyphus withdrew a gun and shot the man. He fell, hitting the ground with a loud thud. Hades looked at the still body and then at Sisyphus.
“He was not wrong,” Hades said.
“I did not kill him because he let you enter my property. I killed him because he has disrespected a god.”
A display like that usually came from a loyal subject. Of those, Hades had few, and he knew Sisyphus was not one.
“Is this your version of a sacrifice?”
“Depends,” the man replied, cracking his neck and handing his gun to the bodyguard on the right. “Do you accept?”
“No.”
“Then it was business.”
Sisyphus straightened the lapels of his jacket and adjusted his cufflinks, and Hades noted the same triangle tattoo on his wrist.
“Shall we?” The mortal gestured for Hades to walk in front, toward an office on the opposite side of the yard. “Divine first.”
“I insist,” Hades declined.
Despite his power, he was never eager to have his back turned.
Sisyphus’ eyes narrowed slightly. The mortal probably saw Hades’ refusal to lead as a form of disrespect, mostly because it showed that Hades did not trust him. Ironic, considering Sisyphus had broken one of the most ancient rules of hospitality—the law of Xenia—by killing his competition after inviting them into his territory.
It was just one of Sisyphus’ transgressions Hades was here to address.
“Very well, my lord,” The mortal offered a cold smile before starting toward his office, the two bodyguards in tow. Their presence was amusing, as if the two mortal men could protect Sisyphus from him.
Hades found himself considering how he would take them out. He had a number of options—he could call forth the shadows and let them consume the two, or he could subdue them by himself. He supposed the only real consideration was whether he wanted blood on his suit.
The two bodyguards took their places on either side of the door as Sisyphus entered his office. Hades did not look at them as he passed.
Sisyphus’ office was small. His desk was solid wood, stained dark, and stacked with paperwork. An old-fashioned telephone sat to one side, and a crystal decanter and two glasses on the other. Behind him, a set of windows overlooked the yard, obstructed by blinds.
It was behind the desk where Sisyphus chose to stand, a strategic move, Hades imagined. It put something physical between them. It was also probably where he kept a store of weapons. Not that they would do any good against him, but Hades had existed for centuries and knew desperate mortals would try anything.
“Bourbon?” Sisyphus asked as he uncorked the decanter.
“No.”
The mortal stared at Hades for a moment before pouring himself a glass. He took a sip and asked, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Hades looked toward the door. From here, he could see the pools, and he nodded toward them now.
“I know you are hiding drugs in your pools,” Hades said. “I also know that you use this company as a front to move them across New Greece and that you kill anyone who gets in the way.”
Sisyphus stared at Hades for a moment, and then took a slow sip from his glass before asking, “Have you come to take my life?”
“No.”
It was not a lie. Hades did not reap souls—Thanatos did, but the God of the Underworld could see Sisyphus was due for a visit and soon. The vision had come, unbidden, like a memory from long ago. Sisyphus, dressed smartly, would collapse as he left a high-ending dining room.
He would never regain consciousness.
And before that happened, Hades would have balance.
“Then should I assume you want a cut?”
Hades tilted his head to the side. “Of sorts.”
Sisyphus chuckled. “Who would have thought, the God of the Dead came to bargain.”
Hades gritted his teeth. He did not like the implication of Sisyphus’ words, as if the mortal thought he had the upper hand.
“As penance for your crimes, you will donate half your income to the homeless. You are, after all, responsible for many of them.”
The drugs Sisyphus trafficked had destroyed lives, eating mortals up from the inside out with addiction and igniting violence in communities, and while he wasn’t the only one responsible, it was his ships that brought it into the mainland, his trucks that transported it across New Greece.
“Is penance not served in the afterlife?” Sisyphus asked.
“Consider it a favor. I am allowing you an early start.”
Sisyphus used his tongue to pick between his teeth, then he snickered quietly.
“You know they never describe you as a righteous god.”
“I am not righteous.”
“Forcing crooks like myself to donate to charities is righteous.”
“It is balance. A price you pay for the evil you spread.”
Hades did not believe in eradicating the world of evil, because he did not believe it was possible. What was evil to one was a fight for freedom to another—The Great War was an example. One side fought for their gods, their religion, the other fought for freedom from their perceived oppressor. The best he could do was offer a touch of redemption so that their sentence in the Underworld might eventually lead to Asphodel.
“But you are not the God of Balance. You are the God of the Dead.”
It would do no good to explain the workings of the Fates, the balance they strove to create in the world, and so he remained silent. Sisyphus pulled a metal case from the inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew a cigarette.
“I’ll tell you what.” He put the cigarette to his lips and lit it. The smell of nicotine filled the small shop—ashy, stale, and chemical. “I’ll donate one million, and I won’t violate the law of Xenia anymore.”
Hades paused a moment and used the silence to quell the rush of anger the mortal’s words ignited, his fingers curling into fists. Not so long ago, he would have let the fury overtake him, sending the mortal to Tartarus without a second thought. Instead, he let the darkness do the work for him. Outside Sisyphus’ office, Hades called to the shadows and they slithered across the exterior of the building, darkening the windows as they went.
Hades watched as Sisyphus turned, eyes following the shadows until they approached the two bodyguards at the front of the office. In the next second, they slipped into every orifice of their bodies and they collapsed, dead.
Sisyphus’ eyes returned to Hades’ and he grinned.
“On second thought, you have a deal, Lord Hades,” Sisyphus said. “Two hundred and fifty million it is.”
“Three,” Hades replied.
Defiance flashed in the mortal’s eyes. “That is more than half my income.”
“A punishment for wasting my time,” Hades said. He started to turn and leave the office before pausing. He looked over his shoulder at the mortal. “And I would not worry about breaking the law of Xenia, mortal. You don’t have much time left.”
Sisyphus was silent after Hades’ words. Ribbons of smoke danced from the cigarette poised between his fingers. After a moment, he put it out in his drink.
“Tell me something,” he said. “Why do it? Bargain and balance? Have you hope for humanity?”
“Have you none?” Hades countered.
“I live among mortals, Lord Hades. Trust me, when given the choice to tip the scale one way or the other, they’ll choose darkness. It’s the fastest path with the quickest benefit.”
“And the most to lose,” Hades said. “Do not educate me on the nature of mortals, Sisyphus. I have judged your kind for a millennium.”
Hades paused outside the door, looking down at the two men who lay at his feet. He did not revel in the idea of restoring them to life to spread violence and death themselves, but he knew the Fates would demand a sacrifice—a soul for a soul—and it was likely they would choose souls that were good and pure and innocent.
Balance, Hades thought, and he suddenly hated the word.
“Wake,” he commanded.
And as they inhaled sharp breaths, Hades vanished.
CHAPTER II – A GAME OF FATE
Hades appeared in his office at Nevernight, one of his most popular New Athens clubs. It was close to eleven, and at midnight, he would wander through the upstairs lounge, choosing mortals who longed to bargain for their greatest desires and wishes—health, love, and riches. Those were just the things he could grant. It did not include requests like creating life, returning life, or bestowing beauty—desires he would not award.
“You’re late.”
Minthe’s voice was like a whip, shattering his thoughts. He had sensed her the moment he entered the room—all fire and ice—and preferred to ignore her when she was like this.
He focused on adjusting his tie and cufflinks, silently relieved that he had chosen to use shadow magic to take Sisyphus’ bodyguards down, so he did not have to hear the nymph demand answers. With his appearance restored, he turned to the flaming-haired nymph. Her lips, a shade darker than her hair, were twisted into a pout. She did not like being ignored.
“How can I be late, Minthe, when I abide by no one’s schedule but my own?”
Minthe had been his assistant since the beginning of time, and she went through phases where she would try to exercise rights over him—rights to his time, to his realm, and to his body. Her eagerness for control was not lost on him. He recognized the trait in her because he possessed it himself.
“Tardiness is not attractive, Hades, even from a god,” she snapped.
A smile threatened his lips, but he remained composed. His amusement would only anger her further.
“While you were dallying,” Hades narrowed his eyes at the jab, “I’ve had to entertain your guests.”
Hades’ brows furrowed and dread crawled up the back of his throat. “Who is waiting for me?”
He knew by Minthe’s expression—the way her eyes narrowed, the slight curl of her mouth—that he would not like her answer.
“Lady Aphrodite.”
“Fuck,” Hades muttered.
Minthe did not even trying to hide her amusement, her lips coiled into a full smirk.
“You might want to hurry,” she said. “When I insisted she wait for you here, she said there was plenty to entertain her downstairs.”
Fantastic. The only thing to ever come out of Aphrodite entertaining herself was war.
He sighed. “Thank you, Minthe.”
Clearly pleased by Hades’ expression of gratitude, Minthe uncrossed her arms, letting them fall at her sides.
“Shall I bring you a drink, my lord?”
“Yes. In fact, I am not to have an empty glass tonight.”