five

Poppy

Being nearly drowned had not been the worst part of her night: the Slavic prince had shown up, Hades himself, to pull her from the water, a minute before she was plunged in it. But she had been frightened badly, both for herself and the cat, and had nearly exposed her gender, not to mention her name.

Why did these things always happen to her?

The fallen angel called a hackney, and they got in. It didn't occur to her to object or ask where they were going. She kept her arms firmly wrapped around the cat, and fell to pondering the myriad of sins she had committed in the space of a single night.

She had put on a man's clothes.

She had snuck out of the house.

She had walked alone, unchaperoned, at night.

She had gambled.

She had cursed—often and colorfully.

She had grown angry, disobedient, defiant…She had felt all the emotions, really. All of them. It would be exhausting to list them all, but she had to, she had to prepare.

She had to brace herself for the endless hours of kneeling on the rice that awaited her, or, better yet, for the endless eternity of burning in hell. Surely nothing less than that could exonerate her from everything she had committed tonight.

"You look like you are attempting to solve the riddle of the Sphinx," a voice said from her left.

Right. Hades was still here. Add riding in a carriage alone with a man to her sins.

Not a mere man—Hades himself.

Hades, who had saved her life. Hades, who had caught her cheating at cards, and had apparently been following her around London. He would have probably discovered where she lived, and who she was, if she hadn't been stopped by the gang.

God have mercy on my soul.

God has forgotten you exist by now; or He wishes He had.

"I am," she murmured, and at least this was hardly a lie, hardly a sin.

But she could find one in there if she looked hard enough.

Maybe she shouldn't speak at all, but instead concentrate on discovering the sin in everything she did, like her brother had taught her.

"Tell me what is troubling you," Hades said, sounding more curious than annoyed for once. "I have a few unsolvable problems in the Hell Club myself. We might have a similar riddle to solve. If, for example, you should turn out to be the heir to a vast fortune, disguising yourself only to escape the crowds of your adoring subjects, you might advise me as to my own business."

His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"Do your adoring subjects follow you everywhere?" she asked, in the same tone.

"Constantly."

Fine, if he wanted sarcasm, she would give him sarcasm.

"Ah, I see," Poppy said, the words flying out of her mouth on their own, completely ignoring her previous decision to keep her mouth shut and contemplate her sins. "In that case, my advice would be to shut down the Hell Club altogether."

At least, that was her honest opinion and there was no sarcasm in it at all.

"Don't say hell," Hades said quickly as if on instinct, but his mind was elsewhere, she could see.

"I had heard of gaming hells," Poppy went on, "who hasn't? But the Underworld was vile beyond my expectations. It was despicable and illegal on a whole new level. I mean, I myself wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it. It's an entire city sprawling underneath London's streets. What I did see was that in it, my lord, you indeed offer all kinds of opportunities for foul pleasure, gluttony and ruin."

"I try," Hades murmured with a soft, self-satisfied smile. Her stomach turned.

"Although really, your praise is ill-deserved. You have seen nothing yet."

"I am not praising you!" she squeaked.

"I see now that I shall have to give you a full tour."

"I am not going back in there," she hissed at him, before clamping her lips shut.

Add the sin of disobedience.

No, wait. Was that disobedience? What if a man like Hades commands me to do something? Should I obey then? But how to refuse? Wouldn't that be a sin?

She was so confused her head hurt. Her brain was about to split into a million pieces.

"You're back at the Sphinx again," Hades' mocking voice said softly out of the darkness.

The carriage clambered over the cobblestones.

Hades watched her.

"What is wrong with you?" he asked eventually, his voice dropping to a low, sincere, puzzled tone.

"What do you mean?" Poppy turned her head away from his, towards the window. Everything was black; she couldn't tell the inside of the hackney from the outside.

"You are a strange little creature. Not strange enough to excite me, of course, but strange enough that I want to solve you. I think I might need to show you my river, after all," Hades chuckled to himself. "That might scare your secrets out of you."

"I'm not—"

She stopped herself.

She didn't know what to do. How to refuse. She didn't want to go back to the Hell Club, but she didn't want to add to her sins either. She was in an impossible situation.

At least you have learned to obey orders so well, it's your second nature.

It's harder to sin now, after your brother's discipline.

That thought should have put her at peace, but something twisted in the pit of her stomach. It did not feel as if obeying Hades was the right thing to do. Then again, everything felt wrong.

"Come now, tell me, why did you come to the Hell Club tonight," Hades asked, "if not to spy on me?"

Right. She knew how to answer that one without sinning. Time for the truth.

"I came to the Hell Club so that I could see for myself," she told him.

"So I was right all along. You little spy." The venom with which he spewed the words took her by surprise.

"I had little hope of discovering something that might help shut the place down," Poppy added quickly. "After all, I am guessing that I am not the first nor the last person who has wanted to do that. Besides, I knew that the man who runs it, Lord Hades, must have connections in high places. It is said that there are members of Parliament, peers and even princes from all over Europe coming to London to congregate in the Hell Club."

"Don't say hell," Hades repeated, and in a sudden flash of the moon, she saw that his face had taken on a strange, grayish color. "And you are right, the man who owns it does have connections in high places. And you did know my title, little liar."

"As I said, at any rate, I don't think I shall be able to do anything to stop the advancement of hell that goes on underneath London's streets every night," Poppy added hurriedly, feeling the conversation ambling out of her depth. Words had a way of doing that, spinning out of control. Best to stay as quiet as possible. "But I can find another poor soul to…."

"To what?"

Poppy's blood rushed from her head.

She had almost told him everything.

"Nothing," she said.

She clamped her lips shut.

That was it. She was done talking. Forever.