CHAPTER VII: MOUNT OLYMPUS

CHAPTER VII – MOUNT OLYMPUS

Olympus was a marble city upon a mountain. It was bright, beautiful, and vast. Several narrow passages branched off from a courtyard rimmed with statues of the Olympians, leading to homes and shops where demi-gods and their servants lived.

Like the gods and the world below, Olympus had also evolved. Zeus had ordered the installation of a stadium and theater in addition to the existing gymnasium, where gods trained and mortals fought or performed for them. It was one of Zeus’s favorite pastimes and a practice that had not changed, even though the God of Thunder now lived on Earth.

Hades did not often venture to Olympus. Even before The Great Descent, it was a place he preferred to avoid, much like he preferred to avoid Olympia, the new Olympus, but there were a few gods who still resided in the clouds, among them Athena, Hestia, Artemis, and Helios.

It was Helios Hades wanted to see now—Helios, God of the Sun, one of few Titans who did not dwell in Tartarus.

Hades found Helios resting in the Tower of the Sun, a sanctuary made of white marble and gold that rose over the other buildings on Olympus, a pillar cutting through the clouds. The surface gleamed with its own internal light, like the sun shining on water. It was the tower from which he launched his four-horsed golden chariot across the sky and where he returned at night.

The Titan lounged upon a gold throne, his head resting on his fist as if he were bored, not exhausted from his work. He was dressed in purple robes, and his white-blond hair fell in waves past his shoulders, his head crowned with the aureole of the sun.

Helios blinked slowly at Hades, his hooded eyes the color of amber.

“Hades,” he spoke, acknowledging him with a lazy nod, his voice deep and resonate.

“Helios.” Hades inclined his head.

“You wish to know where the mortal Sisyphus is hiding.”

Hades said nothing. He was not surprised that Helios knew why he had come, it was the reason Hades was here. Helios was all-seeing, which meant he witnessed everything that occurred on Earth. The question was, had he chosen to pay attention and would he choose to share with Hades now?

Helios was a notorious asshole.

“He is not hiding. I see him now,” the god answered.

“Where, Helios?” Hades said between his teeth.

“On Earth,” the Titan replied.

Since Helios had fought on the side of the Olympians during Titanomachy, the God of the Sun felt that any aid he offered after their victory was a favor, one he did not have to bestow if he did not want to.

“I am in no mood for your games,” Hades said darkly.

“And I am in no mood for visitors, but we must all make sacrifices.”

A spike of anger rushed through him, manifesting in a set of black spikes ejecting from his hand. Helios’s eyes drifted there, and he smiled.

“Still struggling with anger, I see. How will you conceal your true nature from Demeter’s daughter? Will you find more souls to torture?”

“Perhaps I will begin with your son.”

Helios’ mouth tightened. His son, Phaethon, had been in the Underworld for a long time. The naïve boy had attempted to drive his father’s chariot and lost control of the horses. He was struck down by Zeus after causing great destruction on Earth.

“He was a stupid boy who did a stupid thing,” Helios said, dismissing Hades’ threat.

“This mortal is a murderer, Helios,” Hades said, trying again.

“Aren’t we all?”

Hades glared. He should have known that appeal would not work. Helios had no real sense of injustice, having helped his granddaughter, Medea, escape to Corinth after she had killed her own children.

“Is it a bargain you want?” Hades asked.

“What I want is to be left alone,” Helios snapped with more vigor behind his words than anything he had said since Hades arrived. “If I had wanted to get involved in mortal affairs, I would have descended with the rest of you.”

“And yet you use their land for your cattle,” Hades pointed out, noting the shadow that passed over Helios’ amber eyes.

He had found the Titan’s weakness.

“Perhaps I was wrong to set my sights on your son when you care more for your animals.”

Helios’ hands tightened on the arms of his throne. For the first time since Hades had arrived, the god straightened.

Helios coveted his cattle—also called the Oxen of the Sun. They were immortal, and he kept them on the island of Sicily, guarded by two of his daughters. Anyone who harmed them would incur his wrath. Odysseus and his men had learned that the hard way.

But Hades did not fear Helios’ wrath, not when it came to a mortal who dared to cheat death and not when it came to facing the unraveling of his fate with Persephone.

“You ask for blood, Hades.”

“If you are asking me if I will slaughter a few heads of cattle to get what I want, then yes, I ask for blood,” Hades replied. “I will revel in the thought of your agony as I sit upon my throne with fifty of your cattle in the Underworld.”

Tense silence followed Hades’ threat, and he could see and sense Helios’ anger. It burned his eyes and raged between them, as hot as the sun’s rays.

“The man you seek is being protected by your brother.”

Hades already knew that was not Zeus; the God of Thunder would never protect a mortal who had broken one of his most coveted laws.

“Poseidon,” Hades hissed.

He did not get along with either of his brothers, but if he had to choose one to sacrifice, it would be Poseidon. The God of the Sea was jealous, power-hungry, and violent. He did not like sharing power over the Upperworld with Hades or Zeus and had tried more than once to overthrow the King of the Gods, but all attempts had failed.

“You will not disturb my cattle,” Helios said. “Are we clear, Hades?”

Hades narrowed his eyes but said nothing. As he turned on his heels and left the Tower of the Sun, he heard Helios called.

“Hades!”

***

Hades returned to his office at Nevernight. He considered going straight to Atlantis, his brother’s island and home, and demanding to know where he was hiding Sisyphus, but he knew his brother, knew the violence that swirled inside him was greater than the anger Hades attempted to keep at bay. Any accusation leveled at his brother, even if it held truth, would infuriate the god. By the end of the encounter, thousands would be dead.

Hades could not help thinking of Alexander’s soul, broken beyond repair. One soul taken before its time was too many, and the god knew there would be more like him if he did not act fast. He had to come up with an alternative plan, something that would gain Hades the truth he needed and prevent destruction. His eyes fell to the white bundle he had left on his desk—Atropos’ sheers.

Perhaps Hephaestus would have a solution. He gathered the bundle in his hands and started to teleport, when Minthe knocked at his door and threw it open, strolling into his office.

“Entering before being invited defeats the purpose of knocking,” Hades said tightly, frustrated by the interruption. “I’m busy.”

“Tell your side piece,” Minthe countered. “She’s downstairs.”

Hades brows furrowed. “Persephone is here?”

She was not due to arrive until this evening for her tour of the Underworld. A strange feeling unfurled within his chest. It felt exciting, almost like hope, but as he moved to the windows that overlooked the floor of Nevernight, those feelings darkened. Persephone had brought a companion, a man he recognized immediately as Adonis, Aphrodite’s favored mortal.

His eyes darkened.

“I told you this would happen,” Minthe was saying. “You encouraged her, and now she thinks she can demand an audience with you. I will tell her you are…indisposed.”

“You will do no such thing,” Hades stopped her. “Bring her to me.”

Minthe raised a brow. “The man, too?”

She was trying to goad him, and it worked because Hades could not help answering with a bitter hiss.

“Yes.”

Minthe made a strange sound in the back of her throat, something akin to a laugh, and then left. Hades’ gaze returned to the floor below.

Persephone stood apart from Adonis, arms folded over her chest. Despite her audacity, he wanted to see her, especially on the heels of the Fates’ threat. He would just be punishing himself if he sent her away. Besides, he wanted to know why she had come and brought a mortal with her.

When Minthe walked into view below, he turned away from the window, sat Lachesis’ bundle aside, and poured himself a drink. If he did not have something to distract him, he would pace, and he’d rather not illustrate the chaos of his mind right now.

By the time Minthe returned with Persephone and Adonis in tow, Hades had positioned himself near the windows again. He barely registered Minthe’s approach, because his eyes had locked on his goddess the moment she entered the room.

“Persephone, my lord,” Minthe said.

She was determined. He could see it in her expression—the way her head was tilted, her lips pressed into a hard line. She had come here for something, and Hades found himself eager for a time when she would approach him with a smile, with no reservations or hesitations because she wanted him and nothing else.

“And…her friend, Adonis,” Minthe continued.

At the mention of the mortal’s name, Hades’ mood darkened, and he looked at Adonis, whose eyes widened under his scrutiny. He found it strange that Aphrodite would take this man as a lover, given her attraction to Hephaestus. They were complete opposites—this mortal, untouched by the sufferings of the world. His skin was smooth, his hair glossy and not singed by the forge, his face free of stubble, as if growing a beard would be a hardship for him. And then there was his soul.

Manipulative, deceptive, and abusive.

Hades glanced at Minthe, nodding. “You are dismissed, Minthe. Thank you.”

With her exit, Hades downed the remainder of his drink and crossed the room for a refill. He did not offer a glass to either of his two visitors or invite them to sit. It was not polite, but he was not interested appearing pleasant.

He spoke once his glass was full, leaning against his desk.

“To what do I owe this…intrusion?”

Persephone’s eyes narrowed at his words and tone, and she lifted her head. He was not the only one fighting to be amicable.

“Lord Hades,” she said, taking a notebook out of her purse. “Adonis and I are from New Athens News. We have been investigating several complaints about you and wondered if you might comment.”

Another thing he did not know about his future bride—her occupation.

A journalist.

Hades hated the media. He had spent a lot of money to ensure he was never photographed and denied all interview requests. He did not refuse because he had things to hide, though there was plenty he preferred to keep to himself. He simply felt that they focused on the wrong things—like his relationship status—when Hades would rather give the spotlight to organizations that helped dogs and children and the homeless.

He lifted the glass to his lips and sipped; it was drink or show his anger in a worse way.

“Persephone is investigating,” Adonis said with a nervous laugh. “I’m just…here for moral support.”

Coward, Hades thought before focusing on the notebook Persephone had pulled from her purse. He nodded to it.

“Is that a list of my offenses?”

He would be lying if he said he had not expected this. She was the daughter of Demeter; she had been told only the worst about him. He knew because she had looked at him with such loathing when she had discovered who he was the night of their card game.

She read a few of the names on the list—Cicero Sava, Damen Elias, Tyrone Liakos, Chloe Bella. She couldn’t know what hearing these names meant to him or how it made him feel. It reminded him of his failures. Each one was a mortal who had entered into a bargain with him, each one had been given terms in hopes that they would overcome the vice that burden their soul, and each one had been unsuccessful, resulting in their death.

He was relieved when she stopped reading from the list, but then she looked up and asked, "Do you remember these people?”

Every detail of their face and every worry on their soul.

Again, he sipped his drink.

“I remember every soul.”

“And every bargain?”

This was not a conversation he wanted to revisit, and he could not help the frustration in his voice as he spoke, angry that she was bringing this up.

“The point, Persephone. Get to the point. You’ve had no trouble of it in the past, why now?”

Her cheeks flushed, the tension between them building—a solid thing he would destroy if he could. It made his lungs hurt and his chest feel tight.

“You agree to offer mortals whatever they desire if they gamble with you and win.”

She made it sound like he was the aggressor, as if mortals did not beg him for the chance to play.

“Not all mortals and not all desires,” he said.

“Oh, forgive me, you are selective in the lives you destroy.”

“I do not destroy lives,” he said tightly. He offered a way for mortals to better their lives, once they left his office, he had no control over their choices.

“You only make the terms of your contract known after you’ve won! That is deception.”

“The terms are clear; the details are mine to determine. It is not deception, as you call it. It is a gamble.”

“You challenge their vice. You lay their darkest secrets bare—”

“I challenge what is destroying their life,” he corrected her. “It is their choice to conquer or succumb.”

“And how to do you know their vice?” she asked.

A wicked smile crossed Hades’ face, and suddenly, he thought he understood why she was here, why she was leveling these accusations at him—because she was now one of his gamblers.

“I see to the soul,” he said. “What burdens it, what corrupts it, what destroys it, and I challenge it.”

“You are the worst sort of god!”

Hades flinched.

“Persephone—” Adonis spoke her name, but his warning was lost over Hades’ reaction.

“I am helping these mortals,” he argued, taking a deliberate step toward her. It was not his fault she did not like his answer.

She leaned toward him, demanding. “How? By offering an impossible bargain? Abstain from addiction or lose your life? That’s absolutely ridiculous, Hades!”

Her eyes had brightened, and he noted that her hold on her mother’s glamour had faltered the angrier she became.

“I have had success.”

She would know that if she was not so eager to only see the bad in him. Wasn’t that the mark of a good journalist? Understand and interview both sides?

“Oh? And what is your success? I suppose it doesn’t matter to you as you win either way, right? All souls come to you at some point.”

He moved to close the distance between them, his frustration boiling over. As he did, Adonis stepped between him and Persephone, and Hades did what he had wanted to do since the mortal stepped into his office—he paralyzed him, sending him to the floor, unconscious.

“What did you do?” Persephone demanded and started to reach for him, but Hades took her wrists and drew her flush against him. His words were rough and rushed.

“I’m assuming you don’t want him to hear what I have to say to you. Don’t worry, I won’t request a favor when I erase his memory.”

She scowled at him.

“Oh, how kind of you,” she mocked, her chest rising and falling with each angry breath. It made him aware of their proximity, reminded him of the kiss he had pressed to her skin the day before. Heat curled in the bottom of his stomach, and his eyes dropped to her lips.

“What liberties you take with my favor, Lady Persephone.” His voice was controlled, but he felt anything but composed on the inside. Inside, he felt raw and primal.

“You never specified how I had to use your favor.”

“I didn’t, though I expected you to know better than to drag this mortal into my realm,” Hades glanced at Adonis.

Her eyes widened slightly. “Do you know him?”

Hades ignored that question; he would come back to it later. For now, he would challenge her reason for coming to Nevernight to begin with.

“You plan to write a story about me?” He felt himself leaning in, bending her backward and holding her tighter, sealing their bodies together. He was certain the only way he could get closer to her was if he was inside her, a thought that made his stomach feel hollow and his cock hard. “Tell me, Lady Persephone, will you detail your experiences with me? How you recklessly invited me to your table, begged me to teach you cards—”

“I did not beg!”

“Will you speak of how you flush from your pretty head to your toes in my presence and how I make you lose your breath—”

“Shut up!”

It amused him that she did not want to hear this—all the ways she communicated her desire for him, all the ways her body betrayed the words that came out of her mouth. Her body was supple beneath his hands, and he knew if he trailed his hand between her thighs, she would be hot and wet.

“Will you speak of the favor I have given you, or are you too ashamed?”

“Stop!”

She pulled away, and he released her. She stumbled back, breathing hard, her pretty skin flushed. Though he did not show it, he felt the same.

“You may blame me for the choices you made, but it changes nothing,” Hades said, and felt he was challenging the real reason she came here—to tell him his bargain with her was unfair, for retribution. “You are mine for six months, and that means if you write about me, I will ensure there are consequences.”

“It is true what they say about you,” she said. “You heed no prayer. You offer no mercy.”

Yes, darling, he thought, angrily. Believe what everyone says about me.

“No one prays to the God of the Dead, my lady, and when they do, it is already too late.”

He was finished with this conversation. He had things to do, and she had wasted his time with her accusations.

Hades waved his hand, and Adonis woke with a sharp inhale. He sat up quickly, looking dumbfounded. Hades found everything about him annoying, and when the mortal met his gaze, he scrambled to his feet, apologizing as he did and hanging his head.

“I will answer no more of your questions,” Hades said, looking at Persephone. “Minthe will show you out.”

He knew the nymph waited in the shadows. She had never truly left them alone, and he hated the smug look on her face as she came into his office from the Underworld entrance. Perhaps that was what made him call out to his goddess before she left.

“Persephone.” He waited until she faced him. “I shall add your name to my guest list this evening.”

Her brows came together in confusion. She probably thought her invitation to tour his realm would be revoked after her behavior, but it was important, now more than ever. It was the only way she would see him for who he was.

A god desperate for peace.