“Are you sure? He still looks green.” Hades recognized Hermes’s voice.
“I think that is the light,” the voice replied, still warm despite Hermes’s questioning.
Hades blinked open his eyes to find a young god staring down at him. He had wide, brown eyes, a mop of brown hair, and a matching beard.
Hades knew him.
“Paean,” he said.
The god offered a kind, genuine smile. “It is good to see you awake, Lord Hades.”
Paean was a minor god, but his role among the Olympians was great, as he was their healer on the rare occasion a god could be wounded.
Hades rose into a sitting position, body stiff and head spinning.
Paean pushed a mug into his hands. “Drink,” he said. “It is nectar.”
Hades took the mug and sipped the honeyed liquid as he took in his surroundings. He was in a small room with a single cot and a lamp. Paean occupied the only chair in the room but quickly vacated it, speaking as he rose.
“You are fully healed, my lord. You may leave whenever you wish.”
“Thank you, Paean,” Hades said softly.
The healer offered a gentle smile and a nod before leaving the room, then Hades’s eyes shifted to Hermes, who looked very pale and very awkward pressed against the wall of the small room.
“Well, I must say,” Hermes said nervously, “that was the most dramatic fight night I have been to in a long while, wouldn’t you agree?”
Hades just stared.
“I mean, of course you couldn’t agree. You’ve never been,” Hermes continued, wringing his hands. “Let me tell you, though. I have never seen one so…bloody. Leave it to you to set a record.”
Hades did not wish to set records, and the comment only made him feel disgusted. A sickening twist tore at his stomach. He averted his eyes, ignoring Hermes’s incessant talking in favor of the greater conversation at hand.
“Theseus was with Hera,” Hades said, frowning as he recalled how they’d sat together in Hera’s box and conversed as if they were old allies. “Did you know?”
The God of Mischief looked affronted that Hades would ask such a question. “This was the first time I saw him here.”
“And how often are you here?” Hades countered.
Hermes seemed to shrink in on himself, as if realizing why Hades might not trust him in this moment when he admitted, “Every week.”
“Hmm.”
Hades had long suspected Theseus of plotting to overthrow the Olympians. Given the reason for his trials, he could not help wondering if perhaps Hera had formed some kind of alliance with the leader of Triad.
But why be so blatant about their partnership?
“What?” Hermes asked.
Hades looked at the god, arching a brow.
“What does ‘hmm’ mean? You do it all the time.”
Hades blinked, and Hermes continued. “Does it mean you don’t believe me? Or are you disappointed in me? Is it both?”
“It means I am thinking,” Hades said, though he’d have liked to not answer at all and let the god suffer, especially after the day he’d had.
“Oh,” Hermes said, and there was a beat of silence before he replied, “Well, in that case, please continue.”
But Hades rose fully to his feet, downing the rest of the nectar Paean had given him. Once he was finished, he pushed the cup into Hermes’s hands and said, “Perhaps you would not be so defensive if you did not feel so guilty.”
To that, Hermes had nothing to say, so Hades vanished.
Chapter XVII
Iniquity
Hades had been summoned to Hera’s fight night nearly twelve hours ago, and though he’d been healed by Paean, he felt restless and uneasy. There was a kind of horror that thrummed through his body, a darkness he had yet to channel away. It was there when he blinked, in the form of bloodied rocks and crunching bone and the phantom pain of acid burning his skin.
He returned to the Underworld, where he had expected—or rather hoped—to find Persephone. There was a part of his brain that needed to lay eyes on her after the ordeal he’d been through, not only to ease his pain but to know that she was still here, that he had fought for her and not lost her.
He was not prepared for the sinking feeling in his chest when he did not find her asleep in their bed, roaming the garden, or at Hecate’s cabin.
“What has you so uneasy, my king?” Hecate asked when she found him outside her home.
“Could it have something to do with the fact that I have been killing all day?” he snapped.
“Murder does put one on edge,” Hecate agreed airily. “Would you like some tea?”
“What I would like is to be free of Hera’s labors,” he said.
“Hera,” Hecate said. “The Goddess of Women who does nothing but punish them. How did you earn her scorn?”
“I told her I would not overthrow Zeus,” Hades replied.
“Yet.” Hecate paused and looked at Hades, who raised a questioning brow. “What? All things must come to an end.”
Hades paused for a moment, then said, “She has threatened my future with Persephone.”
“No one but the Fates can truly threaten your future, Hades.”
“Perhaps, but Hera can turn her scorn on Persephone,” he replied. “And that would be my fault.”
“Is it your fault because you love her?” Hecate asked.
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Your greatest battle, Hades, will be recognizing that Persephone too has made the decision to love you. So there is no fault, only choice.”
It was a pretty sentiment, but he was dealing with gods—gods like him.
“That was before she knew the consequences.”
“You think so little of her love?” Hecate asked.
Hades flinched. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it once more.
“If you continue to project your doubt on her, then you do not deserve a future with her.”
They were harsh words, but Hades knew they were true.
“Now, would you like some tea? It will take your mind off things.”
“I think I’d rather have a clear mind, Hecate. I know what you put in your tea.”
She arched her brow. “Does all that alcohol give you a clear mind?”
“At this point,” Hades replied, “yes.”
Hades returned to his office, still on edge. His short conversation with Hecate made him want to see Persephone even more, if only to confirm that she still wanted this—them, their future—but once more, his fears overwhelmed him.
What would it take, he wondered, to feel such assurance?
He scrubbed his face and crossed the room to pour himself a drink. It was probably best that he put off seeing Persephone until he had a shower and real sleep anyway. Besides, it was likely she was at the hospital with Lexa, and he did not wish to intrude on their time together.
Just as he set out a glass, his phone rang. Hades answered without a greeting, though Ilias did not need one to offer his update.
“Persephone’s at Iniquity,” he said.
Hades was overcome with a sudden coldness that settled heavily in his stomach, but the shock quickly melted into something far more fierce. Once more, his uncertainty welled.
This was part of his life he had wanted to shield her from. It was one thing for her to know and attend Nevernight, another thing entirely for her to attend Iniquity.
“What is she doing there?”
Ilias’s hesitation assured Hades that he would not like the answer.
“She was dancing,” he replied. “But Kal has summoned her to his suite.”
Hades teleported, appearing beside Ilias, who had yet to hang up his phone.
Despite this, he began updating Hades on the situation as they watched what was transpiring inside Kal’s rented suite via a panel that acted as a one-way window into his room.
Numerous underworld criminals worked within the walls of this club under the close scrutiny of Hades’s staff, and while many of them believed they were being watched via a monitor, there was an additional element to each of these spaces that ensured they never worked outside Hades’s rules, including a network of secret passages that allowed observation.
Hades could not take his gaze off Persephone, who stood opposite Kal dressed in black. He hoped she at least thought of him as she had dressed, because every curve of her body was on display. The light poured over the high points of her face, creating dark hollows under her cheeks and making her look stoic and severe.
“Who brought her here?” Hades asked.
“We do not know,” he replied. “But it does seem Kal did not expect her. He sent two of his employees to confirm her identity. They have been detained.”
Hades glanced at Ilias. He would refrain from asking for details for now, given that he would likely wish to punish them just as severely as he intended to punish Kal.
He turned his attention back to the two.
“I want every detail of your relationship with Hades,” Kal was saying. “I want to know how you met him, when he first kissed you, and all the scandalous details from the first time he fucked you.”
Persephone’s mouth twisted. “You’re sick.”
“I’m a businessman, Persephone. Sex sells. Sex with gods sells better, and you, my sweet—you’re a gold mine.”
Hades’s fists tightened as Kal continued to speak.
“I’m not the only one who’s slept with Hades,” Persephone pointed out.
“But you’re the first he’s committed to, and that’s worth more than the words of a fuck buddy,” Kal replied. “He’s invested in you, which means he’ll do anything to protect you and the details of your private life.”
While Hades had expected Kal to do something stupid after he’d rejected his offer of partnership at the Hellene Racetrack, he had not quite expected this attempt at blackmail. The mortal was daring, to be sure, though he was about to discover just how powerless he was against a god.
“But you’re rich,” he heard Persephone say.
“Not like him, but that’s what you’re going to help me with, and in exchange, you get to save your friend from certain death.”
Suddenly, Hades understood what had drawn Persephone here in the first place. He’d been angry before, but now he was incensed to discover that Kal had played on such a weakness. He had dangled hope before Persephone while also breaking the rules.
It was Kal’s final strike.
Hades called to his magic, and the darkness took the form of vipers, slithering from the shadows toward Kal, whose gaze was set so intently on Persephone, he did not see them until it was too late, until they had wound their way around his body like vises, rising to strike the moment he moved. He offered a small, satisfying cry, body freezing as he faced the beady eyes of Hades’s serpents.
It was then Hades entered the room, choosing to manifest from the darkness behind Persephone. He noted how she straightened with his presence. There was a part of him that had not wanted to interrupt, wondering how far she would have gone to save Lexa, but he thought he knew her choice already, and he could not let her agree to Kal’s bargain. He had already explained the implications of bringing a soul back from limbo without their permission, but asking a Magi to do the work of a god was even worse.
“Are you threatening me, Kal?” Hades asked.
“No…never!” Kal’s voice strained as he lied.
Hades paused only an inch from Persephone, a strange electric energy buzzing between them. He took a handful of her hair as she turned her head toward him, capturing her mouth. One of her hands moved to his chest, twining into the fabric of his shirt while the other remained trapped between them. His tongue slid lightly over her lips, and as she opened for him, he brought his hand to her jaw as he deepened the kiss. He liked how she clung to him despite the odd angle, liked how she tasted, warm and wet and sweet, and he was reminded that the only thing he wished to share with the world about Persephone was that he loved her.
He pulled away, teeth grazing her bottom lip, and asked, “Are you well?”
If she said no, he would not let her stay for Kal’s inevitable punishment, but she nodded, her eyes searching his own, troubled, but he did not have time to wonder about what she saw as he turned toward Kal.
“I—I was following your rules! She summoned me!”
The mortal began moving subtly—digging his toes into the floor, tightening his fingers around the arms of his chair. It was enough to put the serpents on edge, and they began to wriggle against his skin.
“My rules?” Hades asked, his footsteps echoing between each word. “Are you insinuating I would approve of a contract between you and my lover?”
“That would be making an exception,” Kal stated, as if he were quoting a contract from memory, though his voice quivered as he did so. “There are no exceptions in Iniquity.”
“Let me be clear,” Hades said, his magic bursting from the tips of his fingers in the form of five pointed spikes. He captured Kal’s face between them, gripping him so hard that they sliced into his skin. Blood dripped down his face in tear-like streams, which caused the snakes to slither around his body faster, frenzied with the smell of it. “Anyone who belongs to me is an exception to the rules of this club.”
Then he heaved the man from the seat he had made into a throne, and he landed on the hard, marble floor with a crack. The jarring aggravated his serpents, causing them to attack, and with each bite, Kal’s screams got louder and louder. Hades watched as his body convulsed on the floor, knowing that the bite of these snakes was unlike any other. It was the sting of his magic, a shock that went straight to the soul.
“You bastard,” Kal wailed, rolling onto his side, shaking.
“Careful, mortal,” Hades said, standing over the wounded man.
“I followed the rules,” Kal moaned. “I followed your rules.”
“I know the rules well, mortal,” Hades said. The rules were that if a mortal summoned a Magi for work, the consequences belonged to the summoning mortal.
But Persephone was not a mortal.
And Hades was not willing to let her live with the consequences of Kal’s horrible magic.
“You don’t fuck with me or my lover, understand?”
Kal’s breathing was heavy, but he managed to roll onto his stomach and lift himself onto his shaky hands and knees. When he looked up, it was Persephone who stared back.
“Help me!” he dared to demand, his cry guttural, but Persephone did not move, nor did she speak. She just watched in serene silence, and Hades kicked him to the ground.
“Do not speak to her, mortal,” Hades seethed.
Kal landed with a grunt and a wail as another snake bit into the fleshy part of his arm.
Hades turned his attention to Persephone, who stared back, almost emotionless. He wished he could read her thoughts or at least read her expression, but she had watched all this with a passivity that made him think she was either in shock or somehow approving.
He hoped it was the latter.
“Shall I continue to punish him?”
She watched him a moment longer before shifting her attention to Kal. Then she approached, lowering to study his face.
“Will his face scar?” she asked.
Hades did not know why she asked, but he answered nevertheless. “It will if you wish it.”
“I wish it.”
Hades was only marginally surprised; the rest of him was satisfied. At least he had not scared her away with his display.
At her words, Kal whimpered.
“Shh,” Persephone soothed, mocking. “It could be worse. I am tempted to send you to Tartarus.”
There was a strange pride associated with those words, and Hades found them welling in his chest.
“Tomorrow, I want you to call Demetri and tell him you made a mistake. You don’t want the exclusive, and you will never, ever tell me what to write again. Do we have an agreement?”
Exclusive?
Hades’s brows lowered. Was there something happening beyond the blackmail Kal had tried to secure tonight?
Whatever it was, Kal agreed, nodding emphatically.
“Good,” Persephone said, her voice a quiet whisper. As she rose to her feet and turned toward him, Hades knew he would do anything she asked. If she had wanted him to die here in this room, he would have made the choice.
“He can live,” she said.
Generous, he thought, then he turned his attention to Kal.
“Leave,” Hades commanded, sending him seven floors below to the stage. Kal’s sudden appearance would interrupt the performers, and when the crowd looked upon his scarred and bleeding face and saw the snakes that had ensnared him, they would know he had been punished by the God of the Dead.
In the quiet aftermath of Kal’s torture, the two stared at each other, and a strange tension flooded the room. It felt to Hades as though Persephone were building a wall, and while he’d have preferred to tear it down, he began to build one too.
He had so many questions, among them, What were you thinking? But before he could demand an answer, she charged ahead.
“You ruined everything!”
“I ruined everything?” he demanded. He took a step toward her. “I saved you from making a huge mistake. What were you thinking, coming here?”
She glared up at him. “I was trying to save my friend, and Kal was offering a way to do that, unlike you.”
“You would give up our private life—something you cherish most—in exchange for something that will only condemn your friend?”
“Condemn her? It will save her life! You bastard. You told me to have hope! You said she could survive.”
He had also said that it was up to Lexa, but Persephone was conveniently leaving that fact out.
He felt like a monster, towering over her, but she rose to the occasion, fighting back just as hard.
“You don’t trust me?”
“No!” she shot back. “No, I don’t trust you. Not when it comes to Lexa. And what about this place, Hades? This is your club, isn’t it? What the fuck?”