by Skyler Andra
“Don’t they all come here?” I wasn’t going to lie, being human and waking up flat on my face in the halls of an expansive palace raised quite a few questions in the back of my mind. There was one in particular that burned with a kind of hope I felt was childish, but I didn’t want to ask it.
Heat flushed my cheeks as I bit my lip, and before I could embarrass myself Hades shook his head.
“No. Some do. Others go to nearby lands belonging to a different pantheon that I do not rule. Still, others go someplace far beyond my reach. I do not know what determines who stays here and who goes.” He paused, coming to stand beside me. “Your mother is not here if that is what you are wondering.”
How did he know that? Death senses? Damn… was I that readable? I nodded solemnly, wondering which afterlife she might have gone to. I didn’t say thank you, but I hoped he could feel it somehow. He looked tactfully away as I stared out the window, composing myself while releasing the skirt of my dress that I’d bunched in my grasp. Mom had always loved white flowers.
“I have spent a very long time doing my job,” he began, “and now a few souls, like Alan Parsons, who are meant to head my call and come to me for judgment, simply are not arriving in my realm.”
I thought of Mr. Parsons and his desperate desire to see his family. “You mean… like they’re getting lost.”
His eyes flicked up toward my face, his expression blank, hiding something I couldn’t read. It made my stomach drop a little, and I almost stepped toward him before I remembered myself and stayed right where I was.
“Something like that.” His voice dropped. “It is hard to explain… to anyone, actually. I always know when a soul has passed because my magic carries them to my world. But these souls slid under my radar so to speak. My realm aches in their absence.” He paused to pace the length of the room. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“No, I might,” I said. “You’re describing grief, you know.”
Hades scowled at me more expressively than he had shown before. You might think that I would be a little more alarmed at having a death god stare at me like that, but I was right, and I knew it.
“You miss them,” I pressed. “I don’t know how it works, and I don’t know what it means or how it feels to you, but you miss them.”
In a moment, Hades crossed the space between us. For such a tall man, he moved very fast. One second he was looking at me as if I were an alien, and the next he was right on top of me, his hand around my wrist. It didn’t hurt, but it was very clear that I wouldn’t be able to pull away without a struggle.
The problem was when he held me, and I could smell him—earthy, like rolls of cinnamon bark, fresh loam for a potted plant, a hint of sweetness like jasmine blossoms, and a touch of spice—he held me so close that if I wanted to, I could reach out and press my lips against his bare bicep. Struggling was the last thing that I wanted to do. I glanced up at him, swallowing hard while wondering about my own issues.
His gaze dropped to the floor. “You know nothing about…”
I touched a deep nerve, endless, and sizzling with resentment.
He gripped my wrist tightly, but not enough to hurt me. We both felt it then, I knew it. Less dramatic than the moment that had come before, but still exceptional, we stared at each other for a long time. I felt as though the only thing in the world I wanted was to be close with him, to find out what it would be like to touch him. God, he had a beautiful mouth. For just an instant, I might have given up almost anything to lean up and kiss him. I imagined what he would taste like or the soft way he would sigh against my lips, or how good he was with his mouth. My thoughts raced as I fought my want for him so very much…
Hades suddenly let go of me completely and took two steps back, composing himself before turning away.
I studied him quietly. “I know a lot about grief and missing my mom. You’re the God of Death. You feel it much more than me.”
When he stared at me once more, his face slack, the way he turned to gather his thoughts made him almost endearing.
“What are you talking about?”
He was bluffing. I smiled a little bit at being able to sense how he concealed his emotions, making him so hard and unreachable. But somehow, I had scratched away a little at his frostiness, revealing the guarded pain lurking below.
“But what do I know?” I replied. “I don’t know anything about anything in this world of yours, and I shouldn’t presume.”
I was still pretty sure I was right but didn’t push it, especially not when an unexpected rawness flashed in his eyes. If he was grieving or doing whatever the immortal equivalent looked like, he didn’t need me staring and poking at him like I thought it was a funny mushroom or something.
After a few moments, he sighed. His face relaxed, yet remained a little wary at the same time. Just as before, I realized he was glad I had backed off. But he also wanted to be close to me again, or so I thought, and that was messing with him. Hades wasn’t a man—or god, I supposed—who did anything without knowing why he was doing it. Hah! Little old me threw him for a loop and I liked it!
Well, I always have been ahead of the curve.
“We need speak no more of it,” Hades declared, as if the matter were settled. “Come. Sit down. I have brought you here for a reason.”
He gestured to a chair across the desk that I swore wasn’t there earlier. Still intrigued by this whole experience—starting with seeing Alan Parsons’ ghost, meeting The Lord of the Dead, and ending with visiting the Underworld—I accepted the seat.
“That reason being you need my help with your little problem?” I prompted, intrigued what I could possibly do to assist the Lord of the Dead.
“Yes.” Hades sat down across from me, appearing his very best to be coolly neutral.
I chanced a guess that this day was far from ordinary for him, all between the wandering dead, the punch to the face, and my probing questions that had unsettled him. I let him compose himself for a moment.
He took a deep breath before speaking. “First, no more games. What are you?”
What was it with him asking that question? I never played games unless you counted the shameless flirting.
“I’m a hippie at heart,” I said promptly, and he shook his head. “I like dressing vintage. Just look at my sandals.”
That didn’t get a reaction. Normally my humor got a good laugh. Tough crowd. Extremely tough crowd.
“I love plants,” I continued, “and own twelve rare species, which I keep in my makeshift greenhouse on my balcony. On my days off, I attend rallies to save forests from being bulldozed for development, and on the odd occasion, I have been known to chain myself to old trees to protect them. I may have an arrest on my record for it. Hope that doesn’t disqualify me from helping you, because I’m still interested.”
I blushed at the last bit. God, I couldn’t believe I said that. I felt like I was confessing my sins in front of him.
He tilted his head as if to say, “And?”
Geez, what more did he want from me?
I gave up and threw my hands up in the air. “I’m a plain, old human.”
He leaned back in his chair with an air of impatience. “No, you are not. No human could have seen Alan Parsons. That means that you’re something else.”
“Beats me.” I reclined along with him, minus the stiffness. “Psychics can see ghosts, you know. Maybe I’m one of them.”
The skin around Hades’ eyes tightened. “No human can survive the touch of the dead.”
At this news, I glanced at my shoulder where Mr. Parsons had touched me.
“Look, Mom was a human, and as far as I know, so was my Dad. Unless they were secretly aliens. So guess what that makes me?” I was starting to feel a little irked. I mean, how in the world do you answer his line of questioning? “You’re the God. You tell me what I am.”
“In the old days, before my time, the gods would come to Earth,” Hades explained, almost to himself. “Some of
them took human forms and lay with them.”
I yelped. “Are you saying my mother was a demigod?”
A thin ghostly smile stretched across his face that reminded me of how very quaintly human I was. “It might have been your father. Athena was born from the head of Zeus, and I’m led to believe that that was a messy, bloody business…”
Oh, God. He better not confirm my real dad was a god or something. “Not saying that Dad was a saint, but man, are you not scoring points today.”
For some reason, my remark made Hades cast his gaze downward. When he looked up again, I caught his surprisingly soft smile before it morphed back into all business.
“I wasn’t aware I was meant to be gaining points,” he offered, making me glow on the inside. “We shall set aside the truth regarding how you have your powers.”
“Oh, we shall?” I muttered, but he continued on, gamely ignoring me.
“We’ll simply test the ones you know you have.”
I gulped. “What exactly are you testing?”
Chapter 7
Autumn
In response to my question, Hades simply leaned over his desk and snapped his fingers. Shortly, I heard the tap of claws on the floor behind me. Instinctively, I turned to see what was happening, but was faced down by a beast. It was, not to put too fine a point on anything, a three-headed dog about the size of a small pony, and easily two or three times as heavy as I was. Any of the various heads could snap one of my arms off.
“Son of a–” I gripped the arms of the chair so tightly my nails dug in.
The dog (dogs?) sniffed the air, and at a low whistle from Hades, stepped toward me. Before it could come very far, however, it dropped and cast its heads around as if looking for a specific scent… and then all three sets of eyes locked on me.
I hastily pushed my seat back until it hit the desk.
Junipers! He wasn’t lying. He wasn’t some mere wizard who had magicked me to his palace or a rich guy showing me holographic illusions. The man sitting behind the desk was the Lord of the Underworld.
“He’s not going to hurt you,” Hades informed. His voice sounded far away, and God help me if there was a hint of amusement in it. If I turned around and found him laughing, he was going to see some real divine rage. But first I had to deal with the three-headed dog creeping at me.
“Okay. Okay.” I reminded myself that I’d volunteered at an animal shelter as a teenager. I could handle this. My wobbling legs didn’t think so, but I’d prove them wrong.
Hades let out a surprised gasp when I stood up, presenting the dog with my side, and only glancing toward it with the corner of my eye. That was what they taught at the shelter to show you weren’t threatening. You had to win the animal’s (animals’?) trust. God, I was so confused on the pronouns!
“Hey, what’s your dog’s name?” My voice shook a little and I tried to get rid of that. Animals communicated through basic instincts like fear, and if I showed any, it might prompt this three-headed beast to view me as its prey and eat me.
“Cerberus, the Hound of Hades,” the Lord of the Dead supplied. “Guardian of the River Styx.”
“What’s with all the fancy titles?” I retorted.
The dogs gave a little growl in protest.
Okay. Okay. Don’t mock the names. Got it.
Hesitantly, I offered the back of my hand, curling my fingers inward to protect them from a bite. One head, the left, leaned forward for a curious sniff. That was good. Real good.
“Okay, you like the fancy titles, huh?” I said in a slightly singsong way.
Cerberus twisted its second head, the middle one, at me curiously, and I sat still, unable to look any of them directly in the eye. We weren’t at eye contact and pets just yet.
“Why don’t all three heads have different names?” I asked.
“Why should they each have a name?” Hades replied. “They only go one place.”
Middle Cerberus’ cold nose traced my skin and I shivered. “I don’t know. You don’t call a bus full of people a Greyhound, do you? Or heck, maybe you do.”
“I do not.” A distinctly amused tone warmed his voice now. I didn’t mind that. Maybe that was a good sign for this whole test business.
“Hey, Cerberus,” I greeted.
All three heads lifted, their six ears springing up at the mention of its name.
I glanced at its body, not making eye contact. “Hey, sweet baby. Hey, darling. Hiya.”
Two of the heads made inquiring sounds, soft grunt-whines that I recognized as curiosity in response to my soft and encouraging voice. Good, very good. I would far rather have a curious dog than a nervous one. Glancing in the general area, I noticed the one on the far right had its ears back. When I turned to examine it, I found white caps across his pupils. Less good.
“Come here, sweet baby,” I prompted. “Come on. I’m a pal, right? My name’s Autumn. Want to be my friend? I love dogs, and I want to meet you all so much.”
Hades startled with a choked cough, but I was so intent on getting Cerberus to relax and come over and not eat me in the process.
Remembering something that a shelter volunteer had taught me, I started smacking my lips, making a wet and faintly disgusting racket like I was eating a bowl of chili with no spoon. After all this time, I didn’t remember what it meant, but Center and Left perked up immediately while Right at least looked confused with one ear up, the other down. It was still a better sign than being intimidated and on alert. I waited until the single tail rose and wagged before I reached out my hand again for the other heads to inspect. They accepted my offer, fighting for space to take in my scent.
“Come on, baby,” I cooed. “I have so many pets just for you, yeah? Come over. Your owner’s being a weirdo. Don’t leave me all alone with him.”
Center woofed in agreement. That won a laugh from Hades. Before I knew it, three hundred pounds of dog romped up to me. I braced myself at the chance of getting flattened, but they stopped at my feet, eyes bright and two out of three mouths open in wide doggy smiles. Right still hung back—probably stiff and cold like his owner—but his ears rose up and he’d lost that nervy look that meant he might tear into anyone who came too close.
“Aww, you’re just a big puppy, aren’t you?” I slowly reached out my hand. “Aren’t you just a big, sweet baby? Yes, you are! And I love you so much!”
Left and Center jostled for space under the petting hands, making me chuckle. It reminded me of a lap full of puppies, only they were enormous. I cooed at them, digging my fingers into their scruffs and behind their ears. That was when I noticed Hades approaching. He reached out a large pale hand to scratch Right under the jaw. Immediately, Right lost that nervy look, its eyes going soft and mouth gaping open, suddenly acting like the softest puppy.
Hah! A sucker for his daddy.
“Shouldn’t have done that,” I commented.
“What’s that?” Hades asked.
“Right was all stressed out,” I pointed out. “It would have been better if you came over first and made the introductions.”
Hades’ jaw slackened. “We have not done this before.”
I internalized that information and filed it away for later, but I didn’t say anything about it. “Well, no wonder the poor baby is so nervous about strangers. You should–”
Hades’ laughter, although soft, and maybe a little mocking, tickled my ears and buzzed through me. “What? And take him to a dog park? Get my many friends to come over and pet him? Get him used to friendly company?”
“This says way more about you than me,” I retorted with my own laugh. I stopped it at that. Best not to rub it in to a god that he was an irresponsible pet owner. Judging by the stale, god-awful dog breath, this poor bunch of dogs hadn’t had a decent bone in a millennium. Well, I’d see what I could do about that.
“Likely. Here, you probably smell enough like the other ones now.” He took my hand in his, sending that soft shiver through me again. Not as torrential or inte
nse as the first time we’d touched, but still far different than what happened when anyone else touched me. We both apparently took a mutual pact to ignore it.
With my hand in his, Hades let Right sniff my palm, and then laid it on Right’s head. The third, initially recalcitrant head whimpered with happiness as he nosed up underneath my hand. Soon, I had three happy dog heads vying for my attention.
“He just… needs a little more time,” Hades suggested vaguely.
“Oh, he does?” I asked, wondering if the Lord of the Underworld was hinting at something.
“Yes.”
Then suddenly, because someone was jealous their master had gotten all the attention, Center shoved his nose under my palm, whimpering ecstatically, making the entire body wiggle with happiness. It broke the tension like a baseball through a pane of glass, and I started to laugh, relieved, but regretful as well. While I was distracted with his dog, Hades took a step back.
Whatever was on his face before, vanished, and his mouth was pressed in a firm line. He stood up briskly, acting like he had come to a decision.
“I have one more test for you.”
“What kind of test do you mean?” I threw up a hand. My flare for the dramatic stemmed from my involvement in theater during my spare time. So far I’d only gotten the dunce parts—side characters with hardly any lines—but one day, one day! Move over, Cate Blanchet!
“I have seen how you relate to the dead,” he announced casually. Well, I supposed he dealt with death every day, so it wasn’t unusual for him. “And the Guardian of the Underworld likes you, so that is a good start.”
I failed to see how the Cerberus meet-and-greet related to my interactions with the dead souls, but anyway.
“I need to know how you handle them before I make my decision.”
“Okay.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“It is time for the judgment of fresh souls.”
