Hades and Seph

by Eileen Glass

  “Verah, go,” Hades says with a small tilt of his head. She bows again and scuttles away, taking the stairs up two at a time, practically running to avoid trouble.

  Minthe warned him, ‘Hades will dispose of the rabbit when he finds it.’

  ‘So he could stay here as a spirit?’

  Minthe shook his head. ‘It doesn’t work like that. We do have animal spirits, but only certain ones of their kind. Most of them are just gone. Very few of them can make it. Hibus will likely be one of those who just disappears.’

  I don’t want to find out yet. Seph’s hands tighten into fists, imagining the worst possible outcome. Hades faces him.

  I won’t let you or your dog hurt him.

  “Seph…” Hades starts, his voice passionless. “What am I likely to find upstairs in my bed?”

  “A rabbit.”

  Though, how could he get on the bed?

  Verah must have misspoke.

  “Oh.” Hades makes a small laugh, but is it relieved? Friendly? Seph wishes he had more time to get to know the man. “Shall we go attend the emergency then?”

  His reaction is good… right?

  Was Minthe wrong?

  The nymph seemed knowledgeable about Hades, having known him many years. But… maybe he’s different with Seph?

  Twenty-One

  Up the long stairs and back inside the bedroom, Seph discovers that Verah was quite correct about the rabbit being on the bed. He is there in the middle with his new radish and today’s broccoli, and Seph hopes dearly that he hasn’t soiled anything yet.

  Hades is an orderly man. Even if he’s alright with letting Seph keep the rabbit as a pet in the palace somewhere, he will likely not be happy to find out about the dirty basket under the bed. Which Seph assumes Verah has thrown out, though he quickly checks anyway. That slight smell of pee has to come from somewhere, and there are no wet spots on the bed. If there’s a puddle to be cleaned up, he will do it before they start arguing.

  But the basket is still there. Verah did find it, but she didn’t move it. Perhaps because she’s not sure if she had permission to?

  Great. So now a box of feces and urine can be used against me.

  Seph leaves it under there for now. The smell is not very noticeable, if the blankets are kept down, and Hades sits on the bed on the other side, reaching slowly toward the middle to pick up Seph’s rabbit.

  Seph watches protectively, ready to intervene physically if necessary, if the god becomes cruel.

  Instead, Hades croons.

  “There, there, cute friend,” he says, scooping up the rabbit’s front just as it tries to jump away toward Seph. His back legs kick in the air as the god lifts him up. “Who do we have here?” He holds him with two hands for inspection. “A boy, I think. Does he have a name?”

  He sets the rabbit on his lap and pets his ears.

  Maybe I’m worried for nothing.

  But Seph does not know how this is going to work out with the dog he’s supposed to meet one day.

  “Hibus,” he answers. And since more questions will likely becoming, he adds, “I kept him under the bed. I don’t know how he got out.”

  The lead and weighted vase are intact down there. His bunny must have slipped it off his foot somehow. Perhaps when Verah was cleaning, or whatever she was doing, the rabbit panicked and tried to run.

  But he has never slipped his lead before.

  This was just bad luck.

  “I was going to tell you. He’s my pet. I brought him from the upperworld. I just… I just didn’t know when was a good time. Not everybody likes rabbits.” Seph reaches across the bed, carrying Hibus’s radish for him to munch on, since that’s probably what he wants and he’s not straining for Seph’s protection at all.

  The rabbit stops trying to flee and starts munching.

  He was correct.

  “Well, I think he’s a beauty. A fine pet.” Hades continues stroking him while he eats, and he seems to have a genuine smile. Seph starts to relax, sitting and scooting toward the middle of the bed where he can be close to them both. He puts an arm around Hades, and he thinks they make almost the perfect family in this moment. Only instead of a little gurgling babe, they have the grinding crunch of a chewing rabbit.

  “We don’t get many small animals down here. We don’t get many animals at all. It is hard enough to rescue the abandoned humans who don’t come to my call without a funeral or a grave. No god is powerful enough to catch all the animal souls, and then I would have to create additional processes to sort them and pick out the best. The strongest.”

  He sighs and leans into Seph.

  “I did consider it briefly when I was new here. But it is too much. How am I supposed to keep the souls of rabbits and dogs and cats from crossing over the River Styx, back into the upperworld? And an animal is always true to its nature. They’re never done with the ambitions and satisfactions of physical life, like an intellectual human soul can be. The life of a soul animal has to be exactly the same as the life of a real animal.”

  “So there are no animals in the underworld? What about your dog, Cerberus?”

  “Dogs are pretty easy to keep as long as they are obedient. We keep all the ones who come in. Mostly, there are aquatic animals. They do not leave the waters we put them in, so that is easy. I keep some deer and horses and things in my parks. The parks are really where we keep the animal souls who make it through. But they have to be specially crafted so that every animal is content and allowed to follow its normal routine. I am not building my underworld to be a miserable zoo.”

  “That is noble,” Seph says, wondering why Minthe didn’t mention that. The nymph was absolutely certain that Hades was a danger to the bunny. He said Hades would destroy the rabbit, or the rabbit would go back to the upperworld without Seph, and Seph would never see him again.

  Why was the nymph so wrong?

  Why would he lie like that?

  “I really want to see your parks someday. All of them.”

  Hades scratches under the rabbit’s chin, and Hibus stops eating long enough to yawn and tilt his head back.

  “We were supposed to see one of them today,” he says with a smile. “One that I filled with tame deer and every kind of bird I could find that wouldn’t fly away. But I was impatient to get you into the bathhouse.”

  “Oh,” Seph says, very pleased. He’s grinning like a boy, and if he had to describe this feeling, he would call it giggling, even though he doesn’t laugh out right. “Another day though. Maybe tomorrow? We can take Hibus to hop around the grass. He’s very calm around children, you know. They love him.”

  “He would give them a fright,” Hades says quietly. “They know how I am about where things belong.”

  “Oh.” A different kind of oh. The bad kind of oh. He senses he is not in the clear yet.

  “Uhm. We could keep him next to the bathhouse, in that courtyard area? I already thought it might be perfect. Heh, he has a little statue friend down there already.”

  I would just have to visit him every morning and make sure he knows he hasn’t been abandoned. Poor Hibus. He’ll miss being kept inside. And I won’t get to see him as much. But he’ll be safe.

  And I’ll ask Hades to put another door right before the stairs. A gate. Just to make sure his hound dog doesn’t get down there.

  Seph didn’t see any other ways into or out of the private bathhouse.

  “No, Seph. I’m afraid not. I can’t allow that.” Hades straightens up and pulls away from Seph’s embrace, passing the rabbit to him.

  Seph frowns, wondering why everyone in all the world has such a problem with this one sweet, mild rabbit. “Why not?”

  Hibus peacefully settles himself on Seph’s lap, even though he’s without his radish, trusting and unaware.

  “Look at his eyes, my king,” Hades says softly. “Do you see how different they are? Look inside his ears. Look at the veins. Look at the pinkness of his flesh and the red of his blood. He does not belong here.
He is a physical being.”

  “But what does that matter?” Seph asks angrily, though he stays quiet for Hibus’s sake for now. “So he’s one upperworld bunny. It’s not a big deal. I’ll find somewhere else. We’ll keep him where no one can see him, and then no one will think you’re hypocritical about your… upperworld laws.”

  “Hmm.” Hades rolls his lips together. Seph knows he hasn’t won. The argument is just starting. Why do gods have to be so stupid and stubborn about keeping a little fuzzy prey animal safe from the dinner table? Just one? What does it matter?

  “H-he’s my friend, Hades. Please. He’s not just a pet to me. I-I can’t be happy here without him.” He feels like an infant again. The thrilling freedom he experienced with Hades is gone.

  “I know,” Hades says with a sigh, looking downward. “That is why I am thinking. But the beings of the upperworld belong in the upperworld, Seph. I’m trying to put it in words. So you can understand. He is made of things.”

  “So am I.”

  “You are a god. You were born into this world a soul already. All right, you know what? I’m going to explain it to you. As best I can. So don’t get mad, and be patient with me. I am not a very good teacher.”

  “Okay,” Seph says, reminding himself that he can breathe again. Hades does not seem to be angry or horrified by the bunny like his mother was. He doesn’t seem cruel, and he didn’t madly rush the bunny to the upperworld to drop him on the ground like Minthe said he would.

  Minthe made it seem like this bunny was a catastrophe.

  But Hades starts explaining himself calmly.

  “A mortal soul does not come into the world fully formed. It is a thing. An awareness, perhaps. But not a full awareness, not at first. Also, souls get better the longer they live. The more they are reborn. They change over time. They are not static. It is like…”

  His hands move in the air like he’s holding dinner plates. “The souls and the body are symbiotic. They learn from one another. They grow with one another. Through rebirths and physical revision, they get better. They develop over eons. The humans I brought here the first time were not as developed as the humans I bring here now. And these will not be as wise or strong as the ones I bring here in a millennia or two. Of course, they will all adapt into their true selves over time, and that will change, so it doesn’t matter.”

  “What does this have to do with my bunny?” Seph asks. He whispers because he realizes he’s not being very patient, but he doesn’t see how this relates to one little bunny.

  “Well, I was going to explain how souls need their body. It is the most precious and personal thing. It’s a home you’ve always had, and the love of their old physical forms is partially why souls long to return to the upperworld, no matter how good they have it here. A body is like a mother. Your rabbit’s soul does not want to leave his body. That would be the most cruel thing you can do to him. Just in case you were thinking of slaughtering your rabbit here, if I would agree to it.”

  “I had roasted pig at my wedding ceremony,” Seph says, unconvinced. Though, he had not realistically considered Hibus dying unless it was from old age. He can’t even think about hurting his bunny.

  “Yes, and the animal from the upperworld was slaughtered specifically for that feast. I have to routinely bring in meat and things for myself to eat, or this body will starve just as a human body would. But Seph…” He picks up the broccoli. “Most of our food? Including this piece? It’s different down here in the underworld. There is no sun to grow crops. Did you know that sunlight is a necessary nutrient for mortal health? If the crops do not absorb sunlight, they do not create the same fulfilling nutrients that a physical body needs.

  “This piece, and this radish, might fill your rabbit’s stomach and keep him from being hungry, but his body will shrivel away. These vegetables hold nothing inside them that your rabbit needs. The simplest thing to call it is essence. The upperworld consumes essence to create essence. Since there is no essence from the sun and no essence from the soil, there is none of it in this thing that only looks like a broccoli.”

  “Why do the souls eat at all then?”

  Hades shrugs. “Most of the souls here get used to not eating and never do so again. They usually only come to the palace when they want to eat, and it is for some celebration or just a special night with friends. Those who live too far away from the palace have a dining hall in their neighborhood where they can eat and celebrate. Humans like to eat. The same way the birds in my park like to hunt fruit and bugs that they will never need again. And the deer will keep the grass short even though none of it will ever come out as droppings. It is just consumed. It is… not quite physical material.”

  “Alright.” Hibus leaves his lap, peering over the edge of the bed. “So we will bring him crops from the upperworld. Just like you do for us.” Hibus stretches his front paws downward, preparing for a big hop. Seph scoops him up quickly and gives him a ride down, letting the bunny wander on his own while he and Hades figure this out.

  Hades shakes his head. “I can’t do that. He needs sunlight, like I said. And air. And water. The entire upperworld is made of essence, Seph. It is fulfilling for a physical being to be up there. Even if we did feed him upperworld broccoli and radishes, he would become sickly without the rest of it. He would wither slowly and die a painful death.”

  “All right, so death then,” Seph says with a sigh. He is not seriously considering it, but he shall have to hear Hades the Pig Eater give him a valid reason why slaughtering the bunny is not an option. “You slaughtered pigs for your table. Why not put this bunny on the table? He will not wander away because he is already here, and we will keep the doors shut.”

  Hades puts a hand on his back. Seph already knows he won’t win this. He’s out of options. And he begins to feel very sad, realizing that Hades has already considered all this. Hades wants to give him the rabbit. He thinks. He just can’t. For underworld reasons.

  “When souls grow with the body, they become strong. They form the ego. The idea of a self. Many animals, especially small ones, cannot form an ego. Only the wisest and most unique of their kind can. Your rabbit will likely just disappear if we slaughtered him for the table. He will be here for a moment or two, possibly as some twisted, odd thing. Remember, souls become what they think they are. What they should be. A thing without an ego just vanishes into the air.”

  Seph sniffs and rubs his nose.

  I am losing Hibus today.

  And meanwhile his sweet bunny sniffs the rug tassels and paws at them. He must think they look something like grass. He nibbles on a thread, one ear perking up, which means he’s thinking, considering this new food.

  Maybe. Or maybe he is not at all as smart as he seems and both Hades and his mother are correct. He is just a simple rabbit. Something of no consequence.

  “It doesn’t seem right that most things in the upperworld do not get to come down here and live in Elysium.”

  “Believe me, I agree.”

  Twenty-Two

  Hades did know about the basket, which Seph clutched protectively against his chest while huddled inside his chariot. And then he noticed that Seph kept the basket under his couch and would often reach for something on the floor whenever Hades was deep in his drink.

  What could a young god keep so secretively under the covering cloth?

  He didn’t wonder necessarily. Gods are funny like that, especially when they get as old as him.

  Humans are impatient for a great many things, and rightly so. It is how they accomplish so much in there little lives. They are always curious, always inventing, and often surprising the gods. They are pleasant children to have when they are being good.

  An old god’s perspective, on the other hand, is quite undramatic and dull. Whatever was in the basket would be revealed to him at some point, either through accidental discovery or the boy would tell him himself. Maybe it would manifest as an attack of some kind, a poison. Maybe Demeter somehow knew he was comi
ng and equipped her boy with a weapon.

  Whatever it was, it would manifest itself. In time. There was no need to interrogate an already terrified young man and possibly postpone his wedding for something as insignificant as a basket.

  But now he is glad the basket appeared in a short time. Seph would have begun to wonder why his rabbit got sick. Why it chewed on furniture so earnestly. (Now it is trying to eat a pillow case, and Seph is curled around him, trying not to cry.)

  Hibus, as the beloved pet is called, is already starving to death. He is technically full, but his body is starving for nutrients. There is such little physical substance in the vegetables he’s been eating that the food dissolves quickly in the stomach, to nearly nothing. He will get hungry again and again, growing more ravenous no matter what he consumes.

  And now Seph is sad. It is hard to see. Hades frowns, checking his pitcher for wine.

  Good, loyal Sefkh.

  “Here,” he says, splashing some into a cup.

  Seph drinks heartily, sniffing, and resting back by the rabbit. He pets him continuously.

  “S-so you think he will just disappear? He won’t become a spirit?”

  Hades delivers the facts.

  “Technically, he will live. All essence lives and grows and lives again. The essence… divides. That is how life on Earth works. Division creates and grows more life. It is the same with plants and everything else. But yes, your rabbit will cease to exist upon death. Only an ego can shape essence without a body, and that shape is not held for very long without powerful belief.”

  His own cup disappears before and after this speech, with a few simple gulps. He has been meaning to tell Verah that the wine goblets on his nightstand need to get deeper.

  “So the cat my mom stepped on? The pony I had when I was kid? They’re all just… air now. Just gone now.”