“I’ll take you tomorrow,” Hades said. “I need to head topside tonight and put in an appearance as Alberto.”
“I’m sure Harry could manage the bar without you.” Harry was a bit unreliable in his private life, but he took his work at the pub very seriously. Probably because his boss was a vampire.
“I’m sure he could, but I want to check in with my contacts, see if there’s any fallout I need to contain.”
“What kind of fallout? You think there’s going to be some kind of diplomatic incident because we killed a few humans in their own territory? The shadow shapers can hardly go complaining to the human government.”
“No, I was thinking more of our clash with Anders, and what the Ruby Council thinks of having the avatar of Apollo stolen out from under their noses.”
Oh, right, that. Events were moving so fast I’d almost forgotten about that.
Cerberus galloped ahead as we neared the walls, barking with all three heads. Whether in response to that, or at some signal from Hades, the gates swung silently inwards. Magic again. I shrugged, and followed the giant dog through the gates.
Hades’ palace was far more traditional country mansion than a true palace. He’d gotten sick of the awe-inspiring look and had remodelled to something a little more homey, if a fifty-room house could be considered homey. The long drive curved up toward the house on its rise, over a small stream and past some natural-looking copses that in the real world might have sheltered foxes or perhaps pheasants for the gentlemen of the estate to hunt. The house was an impressive sprawl of honey-coloured stone, the rather sinister gargoyles on its roof the only hint that its occupant wasn’t the country gentleman he appeared.
Inside, under the soaring ceiling of the grand entrance hall, portraits of the famous and infamous stared down from the walls. Zeus was there, stern and bearded, as was his wife, Hera. Apollo was there, too, posed with his sister Artemis, all gold and shiny sun god compared to her silvery moon goddess. In fact, all the major Olympians were there—Aphrodite and Athena, Aries, Dionysius, Poseidon, and the rest. Basically, it was the equivalent of the photo wall in my mother’s house, writ large. These were Hades’ family snaps.
Apollo’s voice echoed from the gallery above, and another familiar voice answered him. In a moment, they came into view at the top of the stairs, Apollo’s golden head bent to Syl’s dark one, an attentive look on his face. He stopped when he saw us in the foyer.
“I was just giving Syl the grand tour,” he called down. At least he seemed more cheerful. Hades was always telling me how gods didn’t notice the passage of time the way humans did. Maybe he’d finally decided to take a chill pill and trust that we’d find a way to get the collars off the two of them without him nagging at Hades every minute of the day.
He took Syl’s elbow and guided her to the top of the staircase as if she were some delicate creature who might not be able to manage the descent without his help. She didn’t take his hand off at the wrist, which showed more than anything how unsettled she was by everything that had happened. She might not be the most physically brave person I knew, but she had a mouth on her, and normally she wasn’t afraid to put people in their place, god or not.
“Did you show her the Helm of Darkness?” Hades asked. “I love that thing. Nothing like it to impress the ladies.”
Now Syl rolled her eyes, but she kept her mouth shut. As she came down the stairs, the silver collar around her throat glinted in the light of the massive chandelier that lit the foyer. It was inscribed with symbols that almost looked like writing, except neither Hades nor Apollo recognised the language, and it was actually quite beautiful—as long as you overlooked its purpose. Apollo had his covered with a high-collared shirt, but occasionally, his fingers drifted to the lump it made beneath the shirt.
“No, I didn’t know where you were keeping it these days.”
“Follow me,” Hades said.
With nothing better to do, we all followed him down a hallway and into another wing of the house. He opened a set of double doors with a dramatic flourish and gestured us through.
“Behold, the Helm of Darkness!”
Beyond the doors was an enormous library, its ceiling at least three storeys above us. Spiral staircases at each end of the room accessed the galleries that ran around the walls at each level, all completely filled with bookcases. It was a booklover’s dream, and I stood in awe for a long moment, drinking it in, before I realised that the others were staring at a suit of armour opposite the door. It stood alone on a plinth in an alcove between shelves.
Jake crossed the room toward it, his feet making no sound on the deep carpet. “I always thought this was just a story.” There was an almost childlike wonder on his face as he gazed up at the armour and the massive helmet perched on top of it. “Does it really make you invisible?”
“Absolutely,” Hades said, grinning. Apollo was also watching Jake with a smile on his face.
I was no expert, but I’d never seen such a fancy suit of armour before. It was so covered with engraving and whorls and fancy sticky-outy bits it seemed to me that you’d do yourself a serious mischief just trying to put the thing on. The helm itself was the most outrageous part, sporting two giant golden horns that curled out like ram’s horns. It must have weighed a ton, and looked more like a joke than an actual piece of armour.
Though I guess if you saw that coming at you in a battle, it might be a different story. The horns certainly looked sharp. But the menacing effect was kind of ruined by the fact that someone had decided to use the helm as a hat stand. A faded old baseball cap hung from one of the horns.
Jake frowned. “It seems a little disrespectful to hang a battered old thing like that off the Helm of Darkness.”
“That’s the joke,” said Apollo, still grinning. “That battered old thing is actually the Helm.”
Jake looked to Hades for confirmation. “Seriously?”
Hades nodded. “It used to be a right monstrosity. Weighed half a ton and gave me the most crushing headache every time I wore it. So I had it modified.”
Jake gestured at the suit of armour with its elaborate helmet. “Then what’s this?”
“Nothing. Interior decorating. Just some old thing I had hanging around.” Jake still looked unconvinced, so Hades stretched up and took the cap. “Watch this.”
He put the cap on. The moment it settled on his head, he blinked out of existence. No fading or gradual disappearance, just one minute there, and the next, gone.
I sighed. Oh, the things I could do with a cap like that. Hades reappeared, the cap now in his hand. “What happens if you’re touching someone else while you’re wearing it?” I asked. “Do they disappear, too?”
“No. It only covers the person wearing it—plus their clothes and anything they’re carrying. No two-for-one deals.”
Jake shook his head. “And even though it looks like that, you still call it the Helm of Darkness?”
“The Baseball Cap of Supreme Sneakiness doesn’t have quite the same ring to it, does it?” He put the cap back on its glorious hatstand. “Some of the old traditions are worth keeping.”
My brain was running like a hamster on a wheel. I could sneak back into Newport with the Helm and the border guards would never know I’d been there. I could find the shadow shapers and roam among them at will, searching for the lost key. I could—
“No,” said Hades.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“I can tell what you’re thinking by the way you’re looking at the Helm, and the answer is no. You can’t take it to go hunting for the key.”
“Why not? It would be perfect—”
“Nonsense. That key is probably buried under tons of rubble. Being invisible won’t make it any easier to search through the mess, or any less obvious that that’s what you’re doing. People are going to get damn suspicious if bricks and beams start lifting themselves into the air, you know. Assuming you could even lift them.”
“Then I’ll
find the shadow shapers and spy on them.”
“Good luck with that,” Apollo said. “They’ll have gone to ground now, after the scare we gave them. They may not even be in Newport anymore.”
I shot him a frustrated glance. Why wasn’t he backing me up here? He had the most at stake of any of us, since the collar kept his powers locked down. I’d expected him to be all over my plan.
“He’s right,” Hades said. “We might as well accept that the original key is lost to us. It’s not worth putting yourself in danger searching when the chances of finding it are so small.”
“But you’re not getting anywhere without it!” I burst out. Syl stood listening in silence, staring down at the carpet, her shoulders slumped. Maybe I was wrong about Apollo having the most at stake. I couldn’t bear the change in her since she’d been collared. My sassy friend had disappeared with the loss of her shifting ability, and I was determined to get her back. I was scared of what she might do if I didn’t.
“We’ll go see Hephaistos tomorrow, and see what counsel he has for us.”
I yawned, trying to hide it behind my hand. It was still light outside, but my body felt as draggy as if I’d pulled an all-nighter, still coming down from the stressed alertness of the last few days.
“Looks like you could do with an early night,” Hades said. “I’m heading topside to the pub—I’ll see you in the morning. Try not to get into any trouble while I’m gone.”
Ha. He should have known me better than that.
2
I ended up crashing before dinner and sleeping the night away. When I woke in the giant four-poster bed, morning sunlight was streaming through the window as another picture-perfect day dawned over Hades’ palace. Did he ever make it rain? Or snow? Or was every day a summer’s one for the Lord of the Underworld? I stretched in front of the window, taking in the sight of dappled sunlight through the trees, and the water of the small stream bubbling clean and clear over the stones of its bed. No wonder Hades had never minded missing the days when he played the role of the vampire publican. We all thought he was sleeping the day away in a coffin in the cellar, when in fact he’d been coming home to this.
I hurried downstairs, eager to find Hades and get this day started. The schedule was pretty packed: visit Hephaistos, get his help removing the collars, then home to Berkley’s Bay in time for tea. Okay, so maybe it would take a little more effort than that, but all the more reason to get this show on the road.
I passed the library and, just beyond it, the discreet elevator tucked away behind wood-panelled doors which Hades had used the previous night. I’d seen the outside of the house and there was quite clearly no elevator shaft extending into the sky above it; nevertheless, the next stop was apparently the pub’s cellar. Another one of those magical explanations for things that it was best not to think about too closely. I suppose if I could accept that the gods were real and the underworld was an actual place, magical elevators weren’t too much of a stretch.
Syl was already seated in the “small” dining room where we took most of our meals. I hadn’t seen the “large” dining room yet, but it must have been pretty big if this was the small one. The table had room for thirty people, and she sat in the middle looking lost, her face nearly as pale as the white damask tablecloth.
“No Apollo this morning?” I asked as I sat down beside her. I hadn’t seen a single servant in the time I’d been here, but food was always ready when we wanted it, baths were waiting and clean clothes laid out every morning, as if the whole household were run by an army of people wearing their own Baseball Caps of Supreme Sneakiness.
“I’m not his keeper,” she said, with a touch of her old sassiness.
“No, but you’re spending a lot of time with him lately.”
“We have something in common,” she said, her hand rising to the silver collar before falling back into her lap. She’d barely touched the bacon and eggs on her plate. “He’s the only one who understands what it’s like.”
I slathered butter on a slice of toast that was as crisp and hot as if it had just come out of the toaster, despite apparently having been left on the table some time ago. The invisible army of servants must also have time-altering skills. Or else they were just fiendishly good cooks. “Jake probably understands it. He’s worn one before.”
“Yes, but his came off.” She looked up, and her dark eyes were filled with a terrible fear. “What if we can’t find an answer? What if we’re stuck like this forever?”
“You won’t be,” I said immediately. Anything to get that desolate look off her face. “We’ll find a way. Hades is going to take us to see Hephaistos this morning.”
“Hades isn’t back yet.” She pushed her plate away in a sudden violent movement. “If only I’d stopped that guy with the key. He was right there! But I just froze up, and he got away.”
Bruno had run, with the key that unlocked the collars in his pocket, the minute Cerberus had shown up in that cellar. Now there was no telling where the damn key was. It might even have been destroyed in the collapse of the house. I wasn’t crazy; I could see that. Nor was I precisely eager to face the shadow shapers again, but if Hades wanted to throw his weight around and veto my suggestions, he’d better keep his promise to take me to Hephaistos today. I wasn’t going to wait forever.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said to Syl. I couldn’t have her blaming herself for the current mess. “We’ll come up with something else.”
“I hope so.” She stared down at the tablecloth, twisting it in her hands without seeming to notice what she was doing. “Sometimes I forget, and I reach for my cat—and there’s nothing there, just this terrible emptiness. I don’t think I could live like that forever.”
I covered her hand with mine, stilling her nervous fingers. “You won’t have to.”
We’d fix this, whatever it took. I chewed my toast, turning over schemes in my mind. I’d take the Helm and go back to Newport to hunt for that key if I had to. Anything to take that bleak look off Syl’s face. My head told me it wasn’t truly my fault that she’d lost her cat form—she’d chosen to come with me, knowing how dangerous the human territories were for shifters—but my heart whispered that she’d done it to support me, and that she’d paid a terrible price for our friendship.
Jake came in, his dark hair still damp from the shower, and sat opposite us. “Morning.”
“You look tired,” I said. The shadows under his eyes were almost as blue as his irises. Not that they lessened his appeal at all. In fact, his hair being all rumpled like that made me want to run my fingers through it even more than usual.
He helped himself to bacon and eggs, and started shovelling them into his face like a werewolf who hadn’t seen food for a week. Guess he was still rebuilding his strength from being shot and beaten up.
“Went topside with Hades last night. I thought it was time to check in with the Council.” He shook his head. “Bad idea. I didn’t stay long. Berkley’s Bay is crawling with provosts.”
“Looking for you?”
“Looking for us—but mostly me. I don’t know how many of the Council Anders had in his pocket, but they’ve bought whatever lies he told them. There’s a warrant out for my arrest, and apparently the Master of the North is in town too, ready to help apprehend the dangerous criminal.” He sounded disgusted. “I can’t believe the whole damn Council’s lost their minds like this. I thought at least the Adept would have some faith in me.”
“He was pretty tight with Anders,” I pointed out. This must be hard for Jake, to have his whole organisation turn against him on the word of a man he knew to be a traitor. Frustrating, too, to have them pursuing him instead of the real bad guys. In the meantime, the shadow shapers were still out there killing gods, and if they managed to kill them all, there would be no more fireshapers—or watershapers, metalshapers, earthshapers, or airshapers. All the elemental shapers, who’d pretty much ruled this world since the gods had created them, would lose their shaping abilities
. The fireshapers couldn’t afford to be fighting among themselves.
“I know, but I’ve known Robert for years—and he knows what I went through to get that damn ring. Why would I want to steal it now? I was the one who gave it to him for safekeeping in the first place.”
“People do odd things when they’re scared.” Particularly if they hadn’t had much experience with the emotion. The Ruby Adept was the most powerful fireshaper in the country. He was far more used to causing fear than experiencing it himself. Having someone break into his private quarters and take the ring right off his finger must have been a traumatic experience for him—and now he was reacting with blind panic.
Something else for me to feel guilty about.
“The provosts have taken over a room at the pub, and they’re interviewing everyone about Anders’ disappearance.”
I raised an eyebrow. “His disappearance? Not his death?”
He grinned. “Apparently, they haven’t been able to locate a body. They may suspect me of killing him, but they can’t prove anything without a corpse.” The smile faded. “Though the theft of the ring is enough to have them baying for my blood.”
Hades had disposed of Anders’ body, and Mason’s, too. That was a handy side benefit of being Lord of the Underworld—corpse removal kind of came with the territory. In fact, Hades was all set up to be the perfect criminal—he’d also used the waters of the River Lethe to wipe the memories of the witnesses to his “crime”.
“They can’t be having much luck with their investigation,” I said, “since no one who saw what happened will remember it.”
Jake’s smile returned at the thought. “I don’t think they are. But Hades sent me back anyway. Neither of us wanted to tempt fate. They have photos of you and me, taken from CCTV footage of the fight in the plaza. Berkley’s Bay isn’t a safe place for either of us at the moment.”
Rivers of Hell (Shadows of the Immortals Book 3) Page 2
