Esher (Guardians of Hades Romance Series Book 3)

by Felicity Heaton

  Just as he was going to risk it for Aiko.

  Esher shot to his feet, clenched his fists and regarded his brother with cold eyes, daring him to even think about leaving his place at Aiko’s side while he was gone.

  “I’m going home.” He disappeared before Ares could try to stop him, landing in an elegant apartment in London that looked as if a tornado had hit it.

  Clothes, magazines and food cartons were strewn everywhere, occupying almost all of the antique furniture in the high-ceilinged pale-grey-walled living room.

  Cal turned away from the sash window to the left of the fireplace, no trace of surprise to see him in his eyes.

  “I know what your favour mark can do.” Esher stalked towards him, kicking clothes and books out of the way as he closed the distance between them, pain tearing up his right leg with each step.

  Behind Cal, the weather took a turn for the worse, rain falling in a thick sheet that obscured the buildings across the street.

  Cal closed his hand over the dark blue script that tracked up the inside of his right forearm. “You know what happens if you go back there.”

  He did, and he didn’t care. He was prepared to fight his father on this, would fight the world if it brought Aiko back.

  “I don’t have time to deal with the gatekeepers on the other side of the Tokyo gate… she doesn’t have time. I have to reach her now.” Before his father assigned her soul to a realm and she was lost to him forever. “I’m sorry, Cal.”

  He stepped, appearing behind his brother, grabbed his arm and tore his fingers from it to reveal the words written in the language of the Underworld.

  “Tell me how to make it work,” he snarled.

  Cal twisted free of his grip and shoved him in the chest, knocking him back against the window. “I will, but you need to calm the fuck down, because focusing is a fucking big part of it or you’ll end up some place far from where you want to be.”

  Esher breathed through the need to grab his brother again, pushing out the fury and locking down the pain so he could focus.

  He had one shot at this.

  He had to appear in the right place.

  Any other place and he would have to fight his way to the fortress. His father would know he was coming, would send legions to deal with him, and he didn’t have the strength to fight them and his father. Teleporting once he was in the Underworld was out of the question too. He was tapped out now, body already on the verge of breaking. He needed what little power he had left to battle his father.

  So he needed to appear at the palace if he was going to save Aiko.

  Cal held his arm out. “Read the words, and when the portal appears, you need to step through it while thinking about where you want to be. You have to really picture it… really want it.”

  He wanted it enough.

  Whether or not he could focus through the pain for long enough to appear in the Underworld rather than back at Aiko was another matter. She kept popping into his head, his heart screaming to return to her because he needed her. Cal’s favour mark, a gift from Hermes, could transport him anywhere he wanted to go, wherever his heart desired, whether it was in this world, the Underworld or Olympus.

  Esher just had to convince that heart that he wanted to go to the palace.

  Not Tokyo.

  He read the words, and as thunder peeled overhead and the floor shook, bright blue light burst from the letters on Cal’s forearm and a portal formed beside him, shimmering like water in a multitude of colours.

  Esher focused on the ancient fortress, because Aiko was there now, not in Tokyo. Her soul was there, waiting for him to come for her. He built a picture of the imposing black building that resembled a series of enormous Greek temples, each towering structure surrounded by fluted columns that were a single row supporting the roof along the sides, forming a walkway around the building, but were two rows deep at the front to support the weight of the triangular pediment. Columned enclosed corridors connected each temple. Beautiful gardens surrounded it, the colours a dazzling contrast against the dark stone.

  He wanted to be there.

  He stepped into the portal.

  Blue light engulfed him, heat searing him as he was pulled from London, zipped through the air and caught flickers of places around him, and then a lot of black. It smelled of earth. The air grew thicker, and he grunted as his boots hit the ground again, his tibia protesting as his weight pressed down on it.

  He lifted his head.

  Relief rushed through him, sweeter than anything, as the central temple of the palace rose before him, flanked by two smaller ones that were set back slightly, the enclosed hallway that joined them making them appear to be one enormous temple. Black mountains rose behind it, taller than any on Earth, fractures in their faces glowing gold, illuminating the dull grey sky and the smoky clouds that swirled across it.

  “Halt!” A sentry at the gate in the wall, a towering male dressed in black armour, moved towards him.

  Esher didn’t have time for this. He threw his hand towards the male and he grunted, gargled as he went down clutching his throat. The other two sentries met the same fate as they rushed from the gatehouse. He didn’t spare them a glance as he limped forwards, his leg aching with each step.

  The high square black doors of the fortress flew open with a flick of his wrist, hitting the walls with a thunderous boom, and he stalked through the cavernous building, heading past the two-storey high statue of his father in full regalia and bident in hand that stood in the centre, surrounded by flickering oil lamps and offerings. He picked up his pace as he rounded the statue, struggling to resist the temptation to run. He could manage it, but the pain would steal more of his strength, and he needed every drop of it if he was going to succeed.

  He passed through the door at the other end of the temple, into a smaller building with corridors that branched off it, heading towards the other buildings in the complex, and exited it to cross the courtyard, where flowers bloomed and brought dazzling colour and life to the palace. He headed for the next building, a wide one that had a more modern flair, still fronted by columns, but only the central third of it had a pediment, the two thirds on either side of it kept flat so it almost resembled an old country estate in England.

  Esher breathed slowly, gathering his strength as he moved as quickly as he could while also buying his body time to stop shaking. The pain wracking his heart made that difficult, had him trembling and on the verge of screaming whenever he thought about Aiko, saw her body laid out on the tatami mats, drenched in her own blood.

  He curled his fingers into fists, his claws biting into his palms as he entered the main building and crossed it, heading straight for the high door opposite him. He shoved it open and took the steps downwards into a tunnel.

  He winced with each step that took him down through the rock, his senses on high alert as he scoured the path ahead of him, and behind him. More sentries would come. He didn’t have time. He had to reach the other end.

  Had to reach the throne room.

  He could feel his father waiting there.

  The tunnel seemed endless, longer than he remembered, each step agony as he thought about Aiko, saw himself holding her, heard her last words to him, and the ones he had said to her.

  Ones he would say to her again when she was back with him.

  He reached the bottom of the tunnel and stepped out into the lower building of the palace that sat on the banks of one of the rivers, the opened sides to his left and right revealing the water where it flowed around a bend and enclosed the temple. Ten thick black fluted columns set two metres apart supported a lintel decorated with a frieze on either side of him, the statues atop each one glaring down at him, their backdrop the swirling sky and the imposing angry mountains that spewed lava. Those marble columns led his eye forwards to the wall at the far end.

  Where a tall black throne constructed of bones stood empty, the trench of flames that ran along the bottom of the wall low and barely flick
ering.

  “Father!” Esher threw his head back and bellowed.

  Hades stepped out from a column to his right, his hands tucked behind his back beneath the thick crimson cloak that swirled around his ankles. The black armour that hugged his lean six-eight frame clinked as he walked, the pointed toes of his metal boots scraping on the black marble floor with each step.

  His father regarded him with cold pale blue eyes and lowered his hands from behind his back, so his clawed gauntlets brushed the plates of armour that extended down in thick pointed tabs from his waist, covering his thighs.

  He flexed those claws as he stepped up onto the dais and curled them over the arms of his throne as he sat down and tipped his chin up, causing the spikes of his black crown to blend with his short jet hair and the obsidian bones.

  “You are not meant to be here,” Hades drawled in the language of the Underworld, and gods, it hit Esher hard.

  This was his father, a male he hadn’t seen in centuries now, since he had banished Esher and his brothers from the Underworld and forced them to protect the gates.

  Esher had hated him, had thought he wouldn’t care if he never saw him again, but now he was home.

  He was home.

  He looked around the temple, and beyond it to the river, and the mountains.

  Home.

  Away from the mortals, away from the pain, away from the daemons and their vile machinations.

  Free of it all.

  No, he wasn’t free. He wasn’t free of the pain. He wasn’t home either. His home had been stolen from him.

  “I need her back. It wasn’t her time to die.” He stumbled over a few of the words, unused to speaking his native language. “Give her back to me.”

  Red ringed the edges of his father’s irises.

  Anger flared hot inside Esher, rage condensing in his blood as that look ignited it.

  Because he knew what his father was going to say.

  But it didn’t prepare him for the agony, the sheer fury that blasted through him when his father calmly sat on his throne, not a trace of emotion in his cold eyes as he opened his mouth and spoke a single word.

  “No.”

  CHAPTER 22

  No.

  Such a small, simple word, but it cut Esher deeply, and the control he had over his rage snapped, the violence twisting with the darkness inside him as he gave himself over to the hunger rising swiftly within him. His claws lengthened, echoing his father’s armour, and he felt his eyes change, the red emerging in them as he stared him down.

  Around him, the river boiled, the surface churning in response to his rage, tipped with grey crests and beginning to foam.

  Esher stepped towards Hades and roared as all the pain, the trauma of losing Aiko and the agony born of the thought he might never see her again, twisted tighter inside him, pushing him closer to the edge.

  “Don’t you dare deny me!”

  His father remained relaxed, cold and calm in the face of Esher’s fury, completely unaffected by it.

  Esher threw his arms out at his sides and dragged them forwards, gathering the entire river and hurling it as a wall of black at his father, his heart slamming hard against his bruised ribs as he bellowed and his muscles strained, his entire body quaking as he put all of his strength into the attack.

  The water dropped to the ground before it reached him, revealing Hades where he stood with one hand outstretched.

  Esher snarled as the dark water rolled back into the riverbed, obeying his father.

  He should have known he wouldn’t be strong enough.

  Calm swept through him in the wake of that thought, washing it away, and he stared at Hades, into the bastard’s cold eyes and let it flow over him.

  He was strong enough.

  He had just forgotten how strong he really was, and it was his father’s fault.

  He reached for the black bracelet on his right wrist, and Hades reacted at last, his eyes narrowing on what he was doing, a warning ringing in them.

  Esher didn’t care.

  He snapped the band and power flowed into him, surged through him and rocked him forwards, lighting him up like the strongest drug. He growled as strength poured into his muscles, his bones, his very soul. It had been too fucking long since he had felt the true depth of his power, had put up with it being limited in order to protect the mortal world, but no more.

  His father would give Aiko back.

  Even if he had to kill him to make it happen.

  He snarled through his fangs and whipped his hands forwards again, sending two spiralling funnels of water at Hades.

  His father deflected the first one with a wave of his hand, and grunted as the second hit him, sending him slamming into one of the black marble columns to the left of Esher. It fractured under the blow and Esher kept pummelling him with water, hurling thick streams of it at him until the column shattered, collapsing on top of Hades.

  The water splashed to the ground as Esher severed control over it.

  He breathed hard, staggered back a step as the exertion hit him and barely maintained his footing. He had forgotten the toll his power took on him, but he wouldn’t let it hold him back.

  His father would give Aiko back.

  The broken column rolled towards him and Hades pushed onto his feet, his crimson eyes sliding to lock with his.

  He mustered his strength and faced his father, growled and focused on the river, calling it to him. It rose as a wall around them, towering higher than the plateau above them on which the main palace stood. He raised his hand, felt the strength of it surging through him, power that he would bring down on his father’s head, would condense into a prison that would force Hades to agree to his terms.

  Or drown.

  He dropped his hand.

  The water crashed down.

  Hit an invisible dome and slid harmlessly over it to land back in the riverbed.

  He snarled at his father.

  He needed to be stronger, hit harder. He needed to make his father give in. He needed Aiko back. Pain shot through him at that thought, bringing tears to his eyes as his heart fractured. He needed her. Gods, he needed her. His father had to see that. His father would see that.

  He would make him see it.

  That thought drummed in his head and his heart as he gathered his strength again, his body shaking from the exertion of commanding water that was under his father’s control. Water that he would never be able to use to convince Hades to return her, because his father was stronger than he was and would always win.

  He was being weak.

  Water wasn’t his strongest weapon.

  He was allowing fear of truly harming his father to hold him back.

  But if he was weak, if he allowed fear to restrain him, Aiko would be lost to him forever.

  The only way to bring her back was to make his father submit.

  Was to defeat him.

  Esher narrowed his eyes on Hades, focused on his pain and the agony ripping him apart inside, and his need to see Aiko again, to have her back in his arms. He would do anything for her. Even this.

  He had to defeat him.

  His father’s crimson eyes narrowed.

  He had to do it. His father had left him no choice. He couldn’t command the rivers, but he could command another liquid, one Hades had no power over.

  He closed his eyes and focused through the rage burning inside him, let it stoke his strength and crush the part of him that whispered not to do it, that there was no going back if he did such an atrocious thing, that Aiko wouldn’t want him to do this.

  He had to do it.

  He focused on his father.

  On the blood in his veins.

  And shut out the regret.

  Because this was the only way to bring Aiko back.

  He would destroy the world for her.

  His world.

  He flicked his eyes open. Narrowed them on his father. Focused his power.

  Hades grimaced and lifted his
hand, visibly struggling as Esher began to seize command of his blood. His father curled his clawed fingers as if grasping something.

  Esher’s throat closed.

  His focus shattered as fire banded around his neck, burned him as he wheezed and fought for air, his windpipe blazing as it compressed.

  He fell to his knees on the wet floor and clawed at the invisible hand on his throat, cutting his own flesh as he desperately tried to breathe. Tears burned his wide eyes as he choked, and panic replaced his fury, fear that he was the one who was going to die.

  His father was going to kill him.

  One thought rang in his mind as his father glared down at him and squeezed harder, cutting off his air supply entirely.

  He would never see Aiko again.

  Hades would make sure of that. He would banish his soul to a place far from hers to punish him.

  “You dare attack me over this?” Hades boomed and squeezed harder still. “You act like a mortal.”

  He struggled to focus on his father as his vision dimmed, his heart labouring and body shaking as the need for air became dangerously real.

  A slender pale hand settled on the black metal plates of his father’s gauntlet and the hold on Esher weakened, allowing him to get a little air into his tight lungs.

  “Not a mortal, my love, but he is much like his father.” A voice as soft as a summer’s breeze swirled around Esher, easing his panic and fear as he sucked down all the air he could get and his head began to clear again. “Did you not rail at Zeus and threaten all residing in Mount Olympus when Demeter demanded my return? I see much of the young god-king who claimed my heart in our son, and I love him all the more for it.”

  She was calm, soothing in the chaos, a force to be reckoned with as she worked her magic on Hades.

  The pressure on Esher’s throat lessened and air whooshed into his lungs through his burning throat, his skull splitting as he choked on it.

  When the hold on his throat disappeared, he fell forwards, pressing both hands into the wet black floor and coughing, each one stirring the water beneath him. Tears joined the water, sparkling and mingling. He struggled to breathe, but for a different reason as fear of death swept away and pain swept back in, ripping at him, tearing him apart as he realised he had failed.