by Wagner, Raye
Had he gone insane? “What are you doing?”
“If Thanatos pushed her in, then it was because Hades had commanded it, right? He wouldn’t have done something like that on his own. I mean, he has to answer to someone—”
Athan shook his head. “No.”
It wasn’t Hades, at least not if the lord of the Underworld was to be believed.
“Imogen!” Xan punctuated his bellow by burying his immortal blade up to its hilt in the black wall.
The pale girl stepped out from a dark doorway, her slight frame trembling. “I will take you to Hades.” She didn’t wait for a reply as she scurried down the hall.
Poor girl.
“You requested an audience?” Hades stepped out of a room and closed the door behind him. He wrapped a black silk robe around his waist, covering his pale chest and the top of his pajama bottoms. Pointing down the hall, he said, “Let’s go to your room.”
Imogen transferred her weight from foot to foot, her gaze flitting about the hall nervously.
Hades pursed his lips. “You are dismissed, Imogen. Thank you for your service.”
The young woman bobbed a curtsy and then fled.
“Is she immortal?”
Hades scratched his head. “No. Not yet.”
They continued walking back to their room.
“So, what’s her story?” Athan didn’t care, but he needed something to distract him as they walked.
Xan frowned at him, and Athan rolled his eyes. Besides, they couldn’t very well talk about treason or mutiny or whatever it was out in the open.
“Imogen has reached Elysium twice. She would like to be reborn again in an attempt to make it to the Isles of the Blessed.”
Athan stopped. “The Isles of the Blessed exist?”
Hades smirked. “Of course. Where do you think you are now?”
Isles of the Blessed. Those who make it to Elysium had the opportunity to be reborn, and if they made it back to Elysium three times, they would be able to reside in the realm of the Isles of the Blessed and have unimaginable joy and happiness forever.
“That twiggy girl has made it to Elysium . . . twice?” Xan asked incredulously.
“She is very selfless,” Hades answered.
“Even so, you don’t like her,” Athan said.
Hades smirked as he entered the room. “She is naïve. But I don’t think you really wanted to talk about Imogen.”
Athan closed the door behind Xan and faced Hades. “Thanatos is trying to overthrow your right to rule.”
“You got me out of bed to tell me that?” Hades pushed past Athan and gripped the doorknob. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Athan flushed as the god opened the door and stepped into the hall.
“He pushed Hope in the Lethe.”
Hades came back into the room and closed the door behind him. His gaze narrowed. “Do you know this?” he asked in a hushed tone. “How do you know?”
Hades’s intensity made Athan nervous. “I don’t know—”
Hades rolled his eyes, and his face fell.
“Imogen got really nervous when we asked her.” Xan hurried the words. “You should ask her. She knows something.”
Hades dark eyes hardened to flint. “She would’ve . . .” He sucked air through his teeth and whirled to face them. “Say nothing. To anyone.” He glanced around the room, his face granite. “Don’t even speak of it here. I will summon you shortly.”
Xan returned to the couch and slumped into it. “Do you feel like we jumped from the frying pan into the fire?”
It was worse than that. The outcome wouldn’t just affect them. Not even just Hope. Imogen would be affected, and Thanatos was a god. The gods had infinite memories.
“You better get some rest. I have a feeling tomorrow’s going to be in the crap-pot, and you already look like death. Best not tempt Hades to keep ye here.”
It would be a miracle if Athan could sleep, but there was wisdom in Xan’s counsel. “Right.”
Athan walked toward the closed bedroom doors and opened the one to the left. “There’s another one here.” He confirmed it by pushing the door open. “You’re bound to get a better night sleep on a bed than the couch.”
Xan waved Athan away. “Who said I’m going to be sleeping? Go to bed, Athan. I need you to be smart. I need to be able to fight. I think tomorrow will be filled with a need for both.”
There was a yellow bound book on the stand next to the bed. Hope picked it up and flipped through the pages. It reminded her of her Book of the Fates , but in this one the pages were blank. Figured.
The door clicked shut.
Hope startled from sleep and sat up. She glanced around the dark room, the black rock walls, the dark-red bedding. The smell of lavender had dissipated, but the stale air stirred with the new occupant.
A tall, thin girl with auburn hair stood frozen inside the door, holding a serving platter. The smell of beef and gravy drifted from the metal tray.
Hope’s stomach growled in appreciation, and she wanted to tackle the girl and pull the food away. She shoved down her instincts and pointed at the dish in the girl’s arms. “Is it cursed?”
The young woman shook her head. “No. Hades had Hermes bring it down. It won’t bind you here.”
Hope studied the girl. Isn’t that what they would say if they were trying to bind her? “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”
The girl glared at Hope.
“I never lie.” Her voice was closed off and icy, as if Hope had offended her by asking the question. The girl crossed the room, her heavy footsteps at odds with her slender frame. She slammed the tray down on the bedside table and turned to go.
“Wait,” Hope called. She was tired of being alone, even if she didn’t know how long she’d been alone. She grasped for something to say. “What’s your name?”
“Imogen.” The girl was clearly still offended, as she didn’t even turn to acknowledge Hope.
“Please, Imogen. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
Imogen paused with her hand on the door.
“I’m sorry, too,” she whispered and left the room.
Hope lifted a silver dome. There was a frozen meal, still in its package, but the cardboard edge had been turned back. There was a package of crackers with fake cheese and a bottle of water.
Something about the bottle bothered her. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands. The cap was still attached to the thin plastic seal. But there was really no way to know if it had been tampered with. Unease crawled over her.
Something was wrong, but she didn’t know what.
The tray was gone in the morning, and Hope was filled with a mixture of relief and frustration. How had she not heard someone enter last night? It didn’t bode well for survival if someone could sneak into her room.
She sat up, and her head spun. She was going to have to find something to eat today. She scooted to the edge of the bed. Hope stood and her legs wobbled. Her vision blurred, and there were two choices: she could sit back down or she could fall to the floor. She put her hand behind her and dropped to the bed.
She wore a loose white dress, more sheet than dress really. It reminded her of pictures of toga parties she’d seen online. There was thick twine wrapped around her waist and tied in a knot. Someone had dressed her at some point. Hope rubbed her hand over her face and then through her hair, her frustration mounting.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Hope called.
The door opened, and Persephone came in carrying another tray like the one Imogen had brought the night before.
“I brought you some breakfast,” the goddess said, setting the large platter down on the bed next to Hope. “I was surprised when Imogen brought everything back last night. I would’ve thought you’d be starving.” Persephone pulled the lid off the tray to reveal a yogurt, protein bar, and a bottle of milk. “It’s not much, but it will get you started.”
Understanding dawned on the goddess’s face. “Is that why you wouldn’t eat anything last night?” She took a deep breath. “I swear on the River Styx that nothing on this tray will bind you to the Underworld.”
The words brought instant relief. The gods were bound when they swore on the Styx. Hope grabbed the milk and drank deeply.
Persephone sat on the edge of the bed and watched.
Hope ate the protein bar, washing down the dry substance with the rest of the milk. She opened the yogurt but set it down after two bites. “Why am I so tired?”
The queen of the Underworld pursed her lips. “You have been slowly starving since you arrived. Add to that a major trauma . . . It will take some time for your body to heal here.”
“But up in the mortal realm—”
“Your curse doesn’t follow you here. Not the good or the bad.”
Which was why she hadn’t changed while she was here. “When can I leave?”
Persephone set the wrapper on the tray. She pulled the spoon from the plastic yogurt cup and wiped it clean with a napkin. Then she met Hope’s gaze. “My husband would like to speak with you.”
Was he asking permission? The idea of meeting with Hades filled her with dread, but for no reasonable explanation. “Okay. Is he coming here?”
Persephone coughed. “Ah . . . no. He is requesting an audience.”
“Which means this is a command.”
Why not just say that? Why were gods so obtuse? It was something they seemed to pass on to their offspring, too . . .
Oh. Oh, oh, oh! All at once, a flood of memories came. Meeting Athan at school, finding him reading her Book of the Fates , hearing him talking to his father, Hermes. She’d run away from Athan because Hermes had demanded that his son hunt her. She’d met Artemis and gone to the conservatory. Xan. Oh gods, Xan. He was her friend. She remembered them training. And then Apollo’s sons. Athan getting attacked by Skia. Apollo killing his sons. It all came back. She’d left the conservatory to come to the Underworld to find a way to break the curse. And Priska . . .
“Is Priska here?”
Persephone’s shoulders slumped, and she nodded. “Artemis’s daughter. She will be judged after . . . Much has happened in the time you’ve been here, and we are still sorting things out.”
Hope sat up. “What does Hades want to talk about?”
“Do you feel up to going now?” The goddess stood and extended her arm to Hope.
Hope felt as though she were being pushed into a corner. Her instinct was to say no, but she couldn’t think of a reason to put it off. Hades must want something from her.
Incidentally, she wanted something from him, too.
Hope scooted to the edge of the bed and took Persephone’s hand. It was cool and dry, and Hope had an odd sense of having been in the same position before with the goddess. As Hope stood, her toes curled into the soft fur rug. She wanted to be strong, despite the unease crawling through her. With a deep breath, she straightened, pulling her shoulders back. But she couldn’t stop the trembling in her legs.
Persephone wrapped her arm around Hope’s waist. “It’s just to talk.”
Hope wanted to explain that she wasn’t nervous, but she was. She was going to leverage whatever it took to get what she wanted. And she hoped she would come out on top.
The entire Underworld was made of the same dark rock, and Hades’s castle, in its entirety, was no exception. The black walls were buffed smooth but with a matte finish. Not so with the throne room, which was where Persephone led Hope.
The thick double doors were open, but they closed behind her as she entered the spacious room. Hope jumped as she noticed the guards at the door were Skia. These didn’t look like the ones in Thanatos’s home. These had the telltale leer, but rather than brandishing knives, they each held a black spear, and at their waists were belts with the familiar hilts of the blades that brought immortals to the Underworld.
There were a few parishioners wandering the room, women like the girl, Imogen, wearing pale chitons, likely waiting to be of service. Hope couldn’t help the derisive thoughts running through her mind. Stupid sycophants.
Hades sat upon a throne as black as the rest of his world, speaking to a Skia who leaned over the lord of the Underworld. Next to him, an empty seat of jeweled ruby waited for his wife.
Persephone led Hope to the bottom of the dais and then abandoned her to sit next to Hades.
Hope squared her shoulders and waited.
The Skia straightened and inclined his head. “It will be done.”
Hope gasped as the Skia descended. She recognized the monster and instinctively reached for daggers she didn’t have.
“No,” Hades interrupted with a wave of his hand. “I’ve requested your presence. The Skia will not harm you.”
Hope wished there was a way to kill all the Skia.
“And here you are, Sphinx.” Hades stood and descended his throne, coming to stand in front of her. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time.”
She should use her best manners, but her gut told her he wanted to use her. “Why?”
“Hmm,” he said in a voice so low it was almost a growl. “I can see why Darren disliked you so much.”
She put two and two together. “He tried to kill me. I’m guessing on your orders?”
Hades shook his head. “I’d never want you dead. Besides, it’s impossible to kill you in the mortal realm because of the curse. I merely asked him to bring you to me.”
Right. Which led to the knife against her throat. “And down here?”
He circled her as if measuring her capability or worth. She itched to move but refused to let him see that it was bothering her. She clenched her hands and waited.
He stopped in front of her and, tapping her shoulder, said, “Down here, it wouldn’t behoove me even to try. I don’t want you dead.”
She continued to stare at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The air pulsed with want. It was coming; she knew it.
“I’d like you to do me a favor.”
The skin on her hands prickled and then got clammy. She wanted to scratch them and wipe them, and she kept telling her heart to stop pounding so hard. She balled her hands into fists so tight her nails dug into her palms. “I’m listening.”
“I’d like you to go to Olympus for me. It seems there has been a . . . misunderstanding.” He rolled his neck. “All the gods of the Underworld have been sealed here for just over thirty-seven years now.”
“What do you want me to do? It’s not like the gods are going to listen to me.”
Hades cocked his head to the side. “I think you underestimate yourself and your . . . family.”
Thirty-seven years. There was a significance, but . . . Why would the Olympians care about her family? “My mom would be thirty-seven years old . . .”
“Bingo.” He stepped away from her, offering a tight, unfriendly smile. “I knew you would be smart.”
The insincere compliment was irritating, most especially because she didn’t know why her mom’s age would matter to the Olympian gods.
“Do you know what I’m known for?” He turned and walked back toward the dais. Without waiting for her response, he stepped up to his wife and caressed her cheek. Then he sat in his throne and looked down at Hope expectantly.
“Being lord of the Underworld.”
He nodded. “And . . .”
“It is said that you bless mortals with wealth.”
He waved her words away. “What else?”
“You are more just than the other gods?”
Hades pointed at her. “Precisely so.”
It didn’t seem that he was particularly just. Darren had tried to abduct her, and there was nothing just about that. Although, looking at Persephone, Hades clearly had a propensity for abduction. M
aybe in his mind that was just; he wanted a wife, so he took a wife. Gods did seem to have the most egregious sense of entitlement.
“Do you know what Zeus is known for?”
Hope snorted. “Sleeping around,” she muttered to herself before answering, “King of the gods.”
Hades raised his eyebrows. “Yes.” He paused. “On both counts.”
Persephone laughed. “He is awful.”
Hades turned to his wife and muttered, “I will never forgive him. Really, someone should castrate him.”
The room spun, and Hope swayed on her feet as if the floor had shifted. She stumbled, righted herself, and then stood tall. It would not do well to show weakness now.
“You have maybe five minutes before she collapses, Hades. She is still not well.” Persephone seemed to float to Hope’s side and wrapped an arm around her waist.
Hope’s protest died before it could even get to her lips.
Hades leaned forward on his throne, his eyes gleaming in their intensity. “Do you know what Hera touts above all other virtues? What she has appointed herself the standard-bearer of?”
It was in every text she’d ever seen on the goddess. It was mentioned first in every lesson, on every Internet search, and even on the papers given to her in the conservatory. “Marriage fidelity.”
“But you and I know that isn’t true, right?” he whispered.
Hope nodded. She’d asked as much and been shut down for it. But what did that have to do with her going to Olympus?
Hades straightened in his seat. “She’s a hypocrite, and all this time . . . Hera thought she could get away with it. She slept with that shepherd, gave him the baby, and stayed out of it when Apollo killed her and cursed your grandmother. After Thebes, it was generally believed that the Sphinx had died, but I knew better. I knew .” He swept his hand through the air, indicating his throne room. “This is my realm. Of course, I knew. Years passed, decades, centuries, and everyone forgot how the Sphinx came to be, and her divine lineage. When your grandmother finally died, word got out that a Sphinx still existed and Apollo had killed her. Rumors started flying, and there was chaos on Olympus. I wouldn’t have said anything if I’d known it would lead to our binding. Not that I like the mortal realm, but the gods of the Underworld suddenly could only leave if we were escorted by one of the Olympians. And I no longer count as such.”
