18

18

Back Where I Was

A new chime of bells has me looking away, breaking Hades’ gaze and his hold on my chin.

All he says is, “That bell is the signal to rejoin the others.”

After unrolling his sleeves and putting his jacket back on, Hades turns and, in a formal gesture I’ve only ever seen in movies set in bygone eras, offers me his elbow.

That’s it? Kiss me until I’m hazy and hot, and then back to business?

I frown, and he nods at his proffered elbow. As soon as I place my hand on his sleeve, we disappear, only to reappear on the platform, which is now clear of both the food and all the items.

The other gods are waiting. And glaring again.

Zeus snorts. “For the first time in over two millennia of the Crucible, all the champions have received their gifts.”

He shoots me a look. Is it my imagination, or did lightning spark in his eyes?

I don’t realize I’m curling my fingers into Hades’ arm until he puts his other hand over mine. I force my muscles to relax.

“What happened to her shoes?” Hera asks, looking me up and down.

“Her shoes?” Aphrodite’s chuckle alone is like audible sin. “What happened to her top?” Then she tsks. “Sleeping with champions isn’t prohibited, of course, but already, Hades? That was fast.”

Her teasing reminds me so much of Boone. Experience tells me that instead of spluttering, blushing, and denying, it’s better to say nothing and look bored. Which I do.

Hades trails a finger lightly over my knuckles in a seductive touch. “It won’t be here, and it won’t be hurried.” He looks at both of his brothers. “And I won’t have to transform into an animal to convince her.”

Oh. My. Gods.

Heat creeps up my neck. Couldn’t he have just not said anything, either? How hard would that have been?

An odd crackling electricity fills the air, soft but there, and I think Zeus might be about to lose his shit. Until Hera slips her hand into his. “Let it go,” she urges softly. “You know he lives to taunt you.”

After a second, Zeus’ shoulders relax. Then he steps forward so that all eyes turn to him. He’s back in charge. “You will live here in Olympus with your patron when not playing in one of the Labors.”

More than one of the other champions winces or pales or gulps. I, however, am nearing full-on panic. Live…with Hades. With Hades.

Zeus is oblivious to our reactions. “We hope you will enjoy your time here in Olympus. Your first official Labor begins tomorrow.”

Can’t wait.

Before I accidentally slip and say that out loud, my vision blinks out once more. Like when we came to Olympus, the journey is completed in darkness with no sense of sound or feeling beyond the arm under my hand, and no pressure or movement, either.

When my vision returns in an abrupt swish, it’s to find myself in… Wait. Where am I? I scan the sunken living area of a massive apartment. Is this…where I think it is? The view out the floor-to-ceiling windows confirms it—I’m somewhere in San Francisco.

“Is this your penthouse?”

“Yes.” His breath ruffles my hair.

“I thought the champions have to live on Olympus until the Crucible ends.”

“And you are. We’re only visiting, and this is still my territory. There’s a difference.”

I’m beginning to sense that Hades likes to see just how far rules will bend for him.

I step away, focusing on the room rather than him.

None of the decoration is Grecian—not even a hint of it. I guess I should expect that from Hades. The wealthy in this city are usually blessed by Zeus because they pander to his colossal ego, which includes leaning into all things ancient Greece. Instead, the room boasts a mix of items of various cultures and time periods scattered among the chromes and black leathers of modern furniture.

And not a single photograph or personal item. I know cameras are a more recent invention and this guy is old, but still, no painted family portraits or mementos of any kind.

“Tell me more about your curse,” he says.

I back up a bit. “I assumed you knew or could see…I don’t know…a mark or something.”

“No.”

“Zeus didn’t tell you?”

“There’s not a chat room for the gods where we share our daily cursings.”

I frown. “You curse mortals on a daily basis?”

“No. And since he didn’t say anything today…” Hades crosses his arms. “I’m guessing he forgot.”

So easy for them to ruin someone’s entire life and not even bother to remember. “I already figured that.”

Though nothing alters in his demeanor, I get the impression Hades is…satisfied, maybe? Smug? About what, I’m not sure.

“So the curse is you can’t be loved?”

I nod. “It means no one will want to work with me to get through the Labors. Not in a mean way. Just in a vague, they-keep-their-distance kind of way. No one really forms an attachment to me or cares if I live or die, I guess. And with the Labors in particular, there’s the added incentive of you.”

He shoots me a flat look.

“You could send me back—”

“It’s too late. When the Daemones asked if anyone wanted to decline, that was your last chance. The Crucible is a binding magical contract between the gods who enter, confirming they will finish, and, after the champions agree to participate, they’re included in that contract.”

“Is that the immortal version of ‘read the fine fucking print’?” My voice rises to a squeak, and I clear my throat. “That really needed to be explained better.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference. You were my only choice.”

He leaves me standing in the middle of the sunken living room as he walks to the foyer. He points down the hall. “Your room is that way. Third door on the right. There is an en suite bathroom.” Then he stalks away, shutting the door at the end of the hallway behind him.

I stand in the foyer, staring after him, a little more than dazed. Then I tip my head back, only to blink at the ceiling, which could have been painted by Michelangelo himself—a frieze depicting the Underworld and all its levels.

Where I’m going to end up sooner rather than later if I’m not careful.

“I don’t need the reminder,” I mutter to the universe in general. “I already know I’m fucked.”