“It’s not about words,” he said, frustrated, and then paused to take a few breaths before explaining, “I’d rather help you understand my motivations than have you spy on me.”
“It was not my intention to spy,” she said. “Hermes—”
“I know it was Hermes who pulled you into that mirror,” he said gently. This was not about the mirror at all. It was about changing her opinion of him. “I do not wish for you leave and be angry with me.”
She shook her head slightly, brows furrowing, and asked, “Why?”
“Because…” He felt stupid. In all his lifetimes, he had never had to explain himself. “It is important to me. I would rather explore your anger. I would hear your advice. I wish to understand your perspective.”
She started to speak again, and he knew what she would ask. Why? So, he answered, “Because you have lived among mortals. You understand them better than I. Because you are compassionate.”
She looked away, a faint color in her cheeks. After a moment, she asked in a quiet tone, “Why did you help the mother tonight?”
“Because I wished to,” he said, and he could practically feel Hecate’s eyes rolling. You can do better than that. I said communicate!
“And Orpheus?”
Hades offered a raspy sigh, rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. Hecate was right—he had to do better with his explanations.
“It isn’t so simple. Yes, I have the ability to resurrect the dead, but it does not work with everyone, especially where the Fates are involved. Eurydice’s life was cut short by the Fates for a reason. I cannot touch her.”
“But the girl?”
“She wasn’t dead, just in limbo. I can bargain with the Fates for lives in limbo.”
“What do you mean, bargain with the Fates?”
“It is a fragile thing,” he said. “If I ask the Fates to spare one soul, I do not get a say in the life of another.”
It meant that another life in limbo would be taken, something Hades tried hard not to think about in this moment.
“But…you are the God of the Underworld!”
He was, but that did not mean he would overrule decisions. Even if he could, he’d learned long ago there are consequences for such actions, and some burdens he was unwilling to bear. There was always a greater purpose at work, and for him to interfere would mean ruin.
“And the Fates are Divine,” he said. “I must respect their existence as they respect mine.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Doesn’t it? Or is it that it doesn’t sound fair to mortals?”
Persephone’s eyes flashed, a hint of her glamour reeling beneath her skin. “So mortals have to suffer for the sake of your game?”
“It is not a game, Persephone. Least of all mine,” he shot back, frustrated. Had he not done a good enough job explaining the balance of the Underworld? Or was it that she really wanted to think the worst of him?
“So, you’ve offered an explanation for part of your behavior, but what of the other bargains?”
Hades slanted his head, his brows slamming down over his eyes, and he took a step forward. He did not like her question. He had answered this, was she still not satisfied with his answer? Or was she angry about her own bargain? He expected her to backdown at his approach, but she did not, remaining where she was and lifting her chin in defiance.
“Are you asking for yourself or the mortals you claim to defend?”
“Claim?” Again, that light in her eyes stirred, and Hades wanted to smile at it.
Yes, my queen. Let me feed that fire, awaken your power.
“You only became interested in my business ventures after you entered into a contract with me,” Hades pointed out. It was true. Would she have started this witch hunt had he let her leave his club unattached?
“Business ventures? Is that what you call willfully misleading me?”
“So this is about you.”
“What you have done is unjust. Not just to me, but to all the mortals—”
“I do not want to talk about mortals. I would like to talk about you.” Hades leaned in closer, guiding Persephone toward the bookcase. His hands caged her, one on either side of her face. “Why did you invite me to your table?”
Persephone looked away, and Hades’ eyes lowered to her neck as she swallowed. “You said you’d teach me.”
She whispered the words, and they skittered down his spine, making him shiver, making him want to press into her, to cradle her softness between his thighs.
“Teach you what, goddess?” His lips dropped to her skin, and he brushed the column of her neck. He felt her shiver as he whispered words against her skin. “What did you truly desire to learn then?”
“Cards.”
The word was breathy, and the air between them was thick, a tangible weight full of erotic thoughts and fantasies. Her head fell back, supported by the bookcase, and her hands gripped the shelves as if she were fighting her own instincts and the voice in her head that commanded she touch him too.
His lips explored, and as he pressed a kiss against her breastbone, he looked up. “What else?”
She met his stare then, eyes fire-bright and searching. Their lips grazed each other’s as they shared breath.
“Tell me,” Hades begged.
Tell me you want me, he thought, and I will take you now. He would lift her into his arms, part her legs, and settle between them. The friction would release their passion, shake the earth and reverse rivers. It would end worlds and begin them.
It would change everything.
He waited, and her eyes fluttered closed as her lips parted, inviting his own. She took a breath, her chest rising and falling against his own. He leaned in, ready to capture her mouth when she admitted the truth. Tell me you desire me.
“Just cards.”
He drew away lightning fast, despite his raging desire, and attempted to mask his frustration at her response. It took some effort, and his fingers curled into fists, nails piercing his palms. The pain made it easier, helped him focus on something other than his hard-as-steel cock.
Fuck me, he thought.
If she would not own up to her lust, he would not continue to make a fool of himself.
“You must wish to return home,” he said, turning from her and leaving the stacks, pausing to look back. “You may borrow those books, if you wish.”
She blinked, as if she were under some sort of spell, before gathering the books and following him into the main part of the library.
“How? You withdrew my favor.”
“Trust me, Lady Persephone,” he said, keep his tone void of emotion. “If I stripped you of my favor, you would know.”
It would be painful, like skin stripped from bones.
“So I’m Lady Persephone again?” Her voice held contempt, and he wondered at her response. Was she angry with him?
“You have always been Lady Persephone, whether you choose to embrace your blood or not.”
“What is there to embrace?” she asked and did not meet his gaze. “I’m an unknown goddess at best, and a minor one at that.”
Hades frowned; those beliefs were the bars that kept her true nature caged.
“If that is how you think of yourself, you will never know your power.”
Hades had nothing more to say. He had a nymph to interrogate, energy to expend, and Persephone had made it clear she wished to leave. He started to gather his magic and teleport to Nevernight, when her sharp command stopped him.
“Don’t. You asked that I not leave when I’m angry, and I’m asking you not to send me away when you’re angry.”
He dropped his hand. “I am not angry.”
“Then why did you drop me in the Underworld earlier?” she asked. “Why send me away at all?”
“I needed to speak with Hermes,” he said.
“And you couldn’t say that?”
He hesitated.
“Don’t request things of me you cannot deliver yourself, Hades.”
He stared at her. Her line of questioning helped him understand a few things about her. He had hurt her feelings when he dropped her in the Underworld earlier. She felt ignored and discarded.
We are equals, she’d said on their second encounter. When she had come to ask that his mark be removed. She was making the same plea now.
After a moment, he nodded. “I will grant you that courtesy.”
She exhaled, and Hades wondered if she had expected him to say no. The thought made his chest tighten.
“Thank you.”
Her words relaxed him, and he extended his hand. “Come, we can return to Nevernight together. I have…unfinished business there.”
She shifted the books in her arms and took his hand, and they returned to his office. Her gaze fell on the mirror over the fireplace and then wandered to his.
“How did you know we were in there? Hermes said we couldn’t be seen.”
“I knew you were here, because I could feel you.”
She shivered visibly and withdrew her hand from his. Hades mourned the absence of her warmth. She picked up her backpack where she had left it and heaved it onto her shoulder. On the way out the door, she paused and glanced back. She looked so young, so beautiful, framed by his gilded doors, and he wondered what the fuck he was doing.
“You said the map is only visible to those you trust. What does it take to gain the trust of the God of the Dead?”
“Time.”
***
Hades saw Persephone out, despite her protests. He knew she feared being seen with him, and really, he could not blame her. The media was ruthless and obsessive, and they tracked gods like prey, hoping for a shot that would perpetuate sensationalism and gossip. Some of his fellow Olympians loved the attention, but Hades had made it a goal to avoid them completely, going so far as to post guards up and down his street, on roofs, and in buildings around his club to keep his privacy.
“Antoni will take you home,” Hades said, having already summoned the cyclops. He stood outside Hades’ black Lexus. He expected Persephone to protest, but she looked up at him, a gentle expression on her face.
“Thank you.”
She climbed into the back of the car, meeting his gaze through the window as Antoni closed the door.
Watching her leave felt different this time, like they had found common ground. Like they were closer to understanding one another…and he felt hopeful.
As soon as his car was out of sight, Ilias approached, handing him a file he had created on the dryad who had followed Persephone into his club. He glanced over the content and handed it back to the satyr.
“Thank you, Ilias,” he said and vanished, appearing in the small room where the dryad had been held. She screamed when she saw Hades and shrunk against the wall, shaking.
“Rosalva Lykaios. Assistant to Demeter. Funny that your résumé does not also include spy.”
She spoke softly, voice quaking. “P-Please, my lord—”
“I will be brief,” he said, cutting her off. “You have two choices before you. Either you lie to your mistress and tell her Persephone was not here tonight, or you tell the truth.”
He moved toward her as he spoke, and the girl cowered.
“If the first, you risk the wrath of Demeter,” he said. “If the second, you risk my wrath.”
“You are asking me to do the impossible.”
“No,” he said. “I am asking you, which of us do you fear more?”
CHAPTER XV – A GAME OF TRICKERY
It was early when Hades made his way to the Underworld stables. They were located at the back of his estate and just as grand as his castle. Marble floors lined a wide aisle flanked by stalls with glossy black doors. Hades had four sable-black horses, Orphnaeus, Aethon, Nycteus, and Alastor, who occupied each pen, and as he came into view, they neighed, pawing the ground with their hoofed feet.
“Yes, yes, I know. You are wasting away in these stables, and you want to go for a run,” he said as they complained noisily. “I’ll bargain with the lot of you. Be good while I brush your coats and trim your hooves, and I’ll let you roam the realm.”
They snorted in response—an agreement. “Who wants to go first?”
They were quiet.
They were fire and brimstone, and they had seen battle as Hades had seen battle. Despite how he tried to care for them, their spirits were wild, their dreams haunted. They were tortured like he was tortured.
“Come now. The longer you wait, the further you are from freedom.”
That got their attention, and they all responded at once, knocking against their stall doors.
Hades grinned and laughed. “One of you will just have to charm me.”
He sidled along the marble walkway, pausing at each stall.
“Alastor?” he questioned, and the horse mewled. Of all his horses, Alastor was the most gentle, an irony considering in battle, he was known as the tormentor. His memory was long, and he never forgot an enemy.
“Orphnaeus?” The beast whined.
“Aethon?” The stallion blew a harsh breath from his nose and knocked against his gate, the most aggressive of the four.
“Nycteus?” The youngest of the four snorted.
Hades chuckled and then approached Aethon’s stall. “Alright, since you were so vocal.”
He opened the gate, leading the beast to the wash station in the stables. He did not need to secure him to keep him from running off. Despite their wish to roam, they would not disobey their master. Hades began the process by cleaning Aethon’s hooves, prying dirt and mud free from the soles of his feet. After, he curried the coat, loosening mud and grit and dirt. As he worked, he spoke.
“Hecate tells me you four have been grazing in her mushroom grove again.”
They snorted in denial at the accusation.
“Are you sure?”
They shook their heads, neighing.
“Because Hecate said she called to each of you, and you fled like shadow, eyes aflame.”
They were all quiet.
Then, Alastor brayed, and Hades laughed.
“Are you suggesting Hecate hallucinated the whole thing?”
The four snorted in agreement.
“While I don’t doubt Hecate’s use of hallucinogenic mushrooms, I also do not doubt your use,” he said.
Hades moved on, working the knots free from Aethon’s main and tail. He brushed his coat two more times, with a stiffer brush and a finishing brush. Last, he used a damp cloth to clean around Aethon’s eyes, muzzle, and ears.
“Off you go,” he said, and Aethon hurried from the stable into the early morning of the Underworld.
Hades moved onto Orphnaeus, then Nycteus, and last Alastor, repeating the same steps of cleaning hooves, coat, and mane.
As he wiped around Alastor’s eyes, he asked in a quiet voice. “Are you well, my friend?”
The horse stared at Hades with dark eyes, and within them, he saw the depth of his torture. Of the four, Alastor was the most haunted. He often separated from the others to wander alone, needing the isolation to fight his own demons.
Hades understood.
The horse exhaled quietly, and Hades brushed his snout.
“I would mourn the loss of you,” he said. “But if you need to drink from the Lethe…I will grant your wish.”
Alastor offered a snort, and shook his head, declining the offer.
Hades grinned. “It is just an offer,” he said. “On the table…if ever you grow too weary.”
He finished cleaning Alastor’s ears and stepped away.
“Alright, my friend. Off you go.”
As Alastor raced from the stables, he passed Minthe, who approached Hades with a smug expression on her face. He wasn’t sure why, but dread pooled in his stomach at her approach.
“My lord,” she said. “I have news.”
Hades focused on cleaning up, not meeting her gaze.
“And what news is that, Minthe?”
“It’s something you’ll want to see, my lord.”
He hung the last of the brushes on a post near the wash station before turning to look at her. The nymph held up a paper, a copy of New Athens News. His eyes were immediately drawn to the cover story, which included his name.
Hades, God of the Game
by Persephone Rosi
Hades snatched the paper from her hands, staring at those bold, black letters until they blurred across the page.
“It seems your precious Persephone has betrayed you,” Minthe was saying, but her voice sounded far away. He was too focused on the words his goddess had written to pay attention.
In my short encounter with the God of the Underworld, he can best be described as tense. He is cold and boorish, his eyes colorless chasms of judgement set within a callous face. He lurks in the shadows of his club, preying upon the vulnerable.
Hades felt a rush of embarrassment and shame and anger, and for a moment, all he could think was, So this is what she truly thinks of me? And yet he could not reconcile how she had acted in the library the night before, the way she had leaned into him, the way she had parted her lips, ready for his own. He had felt her passion just as acutely as he felt his own.
Could these really be her thoughts? Her words? Was she trying to cage her heart?
He continued reading.
Hades says the rules of Nevernight are clear. Lose against him, and you are obligated to fulfill a contract, one that exposes his debtors to shame, and while he has claimed success, he has yet to name a single soul who has benefited from his so-called charity.
So-called charity.
He gritted his teeth; he was plenty charitable.
How is she supposed to know? I haven’t told her, he countered.
“I will visit Demetri today. Persephone will never write again,” Minthe said.
It was the usual avenue. Anyone who photographed or wrote about Hades usually found themselves out of a job and unable to be hired. No one wanted to incur the wrath of Hades, and despite how this article made him feel, he could not take away Persephone’s dream.
“No,” Hades said, and the word was harsh, a mix of alarm and frustration.
Minthe’s eyes widened. “But…this is defamation!”
“Persephone is mine to punish, Minthe.”
The nymph’s brows narrowed harshly over her burning eyes. “And what is your idea of punishment? Fucking her until she begs for release?”
“Fuck you, Minthe.”
“This isn’t you,” she argued. “If it were any other mortal, you would let me do my job!”
“She is no mortal,” Hades snapped. “She is to be my wife, and you will treat her as such.”
Silence followed, and after a moment, Minthe spoke, her voice shaking.
“Your wife?”
“Your queen,” Hades said.
Minthe’s jaw tensed. “When were you going to tell me?”
“You act as if I owe you an explanation.”
“Don’t you? We were lovers!”
“For a night, Minthe, nothing more.”
She stared at him, eyes glistening. “Is it because she is a goddess?”
“If you are asking me why not you, it was never you, Minthe.”
The words were harsh but they were true, and he hoped they hit home. He would see that she respected Persephone as her queen, or he would dismiss her.
The nymph lingered for a few seconds longer before turning on her heels and running from the stables.
***
“I’m disappointed in you,” Hecate said.
The two stood in the shadows outside Dolphin & Co. Shipbuilding. It was a company owned by Poseidon, and because it was owned by a god, it had the monopoly on ship and boat building in New Greece. It helped that Poseidon claimed his ships were unsinkable, a promise many believed because he was God of the Sea. His dockyard spanned for miles, employing thousands of mortals and immortals who built yachts, cargo ships, and wartime vessels, the latter being a type of ship Zeus has ordered Poseidon to cease building after The Great War. Hades doubted Poseidon had listened.
It was here where Sisyphus had agreed to meet Poseidon under the guise that the god would help him escape Hades’ wrath, a ruse that was not implausible. Hades did not trust Poseidon. He was well-aware that the god had fulfilled his part of the bargain—luring Sisyphus. Beyond that, he was not obligated to help Hades captured the mortal.
“Why this time?” he asked, responding to Hecate’s earlier comment.
“I told you I wanted to be present when you told Minthe you were to be married.”
Hades glanced at the goddess, raising a brow. She was cloaked in black velvet, as was her nature when she came to the Upperworld. She preferred to blend with the darkness. He had asked her to accompany him on this trip to handle the spindle. Ilias had not been able to track how Poseidon had come into possession of it, so Hecate would have to perform a trace on the object.
That was the problem with relics—there was so much to clean up in their aftermath.
“How do you know I told her?”
“Because she has vented to half the staff about it,” Hecate said. “Though, it has not had the effect she desired.”
“What does that mean?”
“She hoped they would be just as affronted, but I think the staff are hopeful.”
“Hopeful?”
“They want Persephone much as you do, Hades,” Hecate said, a little mischievously.
“Hmm,” Hades grunted. It was true that he wanted her, but after the article she had written, he was not certain she wanted him, or ever would. Still, he knew she had made an impression on his souls. After she watered her garden, she spent hours with them. She had learned many of their names and spent time with them, going for walks or taking tea, even cleaning. She played with the children and brought them gifts, even his dogs tended to follow her, even if he promised playtime.
She had won their favor in no time, and he had yet to win hers.
Hades focused on the smell of Poseidon’s magic—salt and sand and hot sun—as his brother appeared before them. He was fully dressed this time in a pink suit with black lapels and a white pocket square. Despite using a mortal glamour, he had kept his crown, the gold spires losing their luster amid his honeyed hair. Hades wondered if he wore it as a show of power, to remind him that they were in his territory.
“I see you brought your witch,” Poseidon said, aqua eyes sliding to Hecate.
It was not Hecate Poseidon disliked, so much as her relationship with Zeus. Hecate, on the other hand, hated Poseidon merely for being arrogant. As soon as the god spoke, Hecate’s eyes narrowed, and the leg of his’s trousers caught fire.
“Motherfucker!” he roared as he hopped about, trying to put out Hecate’s mystic fire.
Hades smirked at his brother’s pain.
“Hecate is far older than us, Poseidon,” Hades called over his brother’s screams. “We must respect our elders.”
“Careful, Hades. I am not above setting you aflame,” the Goddess of Magic replied.
“And I am not above incinerating your nightshade.”
They smiled at each other.
“If you two are finished flirting,” Poseidon shouted. “I should remind you that my fucking leg is on fire!”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten.” Hecate’s eyes flashed as she returned her gaze to Poseidon, which caused the god to go still. Whatever he saw in her eyes caused him more fear than the fire claiming his leg. Finally, she dismissed the magic. Poseidon brushed at his pant leg, hands shaking as he assessed the damage. The cloth was blackened and curled, parts of it melted into his bubbling skin. He glared at Hecate, and she shrugged a shoulder.
“You called me a witch,” she said.
“You are a witch,” Hades reminded her.
“It was the way he said it, like it was an insult. Perhaps next time, he’ll remember the power behind the word.”
Poseidon straightened, fists curled at his sides. Hades sensed his rage churning beneath the surface, fierce like a deadly storm. He was not sure what the god intended to do next. Perhaps he wished to war with Hecate, which would spell disaster for him, his business, and the goal of this meeting.
“Where is the mortal?” Hades asked.
Poseidon’s eyes shifted to his, and Hades felt his hate. Usually, his brother’s intense emotion left him smiling, but today, he felt dread. Poseidon had a number of reasons to fuck this up. Favor or not, Hades had embarrassed him in front of his people and his wife, and while Poseidon had earned Hecate’s wrath, there was only so much the God of the Sea would endure before he took his revenge. Everyone had a breaking point, and Poseidon had done well to stay composed this long. He wondered what sort of magic Amphitrite had worked upon him.
“He will arrive soon.” Poseidon indicted to a watchtower that overlooked his shipyard. “Wait there.”
The two did as he instructed and teleported to the lookout. The box was small, and Hades and Hecate stood shoulder to shoulder as they peered out over the yard. This particular security station overlooked the entrance and the main office. In the distance, a series of lights illuminated hundreds of ships in various states of construction. Hades thought the view was beautiful in its own way.
“He is even more unpleasant than I remember,” Hecate muttered.
“You know he can hear you?” Hades reminded her.
“I hope so.”