41

41

Hades’ Pet

I swallow back my scream when the dog doesn’t immediately attack.

And it’s a good thing this place has high ceilings, because the beast is at least fifteen feet tall at the middle head. His coat is smooth and shiny and shows every ridge of his muscled body. He wears black spiked armor around his neck and shoulders, strapped under his chest, and more goes up each snout and over the crown of each head. All of his ears stand straight up, tall and pointed and alert.

“Oh my gods,” I whisper, shuffling my feet to stand closer to Hades. “Is that—”

“Cerberus.” Hades doesn’t sound too happy. “What are you doing here, mutt?”

I elbow Hades. “Don’t call him a mutt.”

He delivers a glare that dares me to try that again. “He’s my dog. I call him what I want.”

Cerberus growls.

I freeze. “Is he going to eat me?”

“He’s not growling at you,” Hades grumbles through his teeth.

I give him a slow blink. “He’s growling at you?” I can’t contain my grin. “Can I pet him? He’s amazing.”

“No.”

“Yes, pretty mortal. You may.” A voice like a wise elder resounds in my head as though I’m standing in a cathedral, smooth like a river and so deep you’d never find the bottom.

Cerberus is talking to me. In my head. Seriously, best day ever.

“We love pettings from nice ladies,” a similar but slightly different voice—a tad higher and more eager—says next. I immediately place that voice with the head on the left, a giant tongue lolling out one side of his mouth like his head is hanging out a car window.

“Permission granted,” says a third voice, gruffer and curter, his snout lifting into the air.

I stare at the dog. Three voices. Each head has its own personality. There should probably be questioning or hesitation on my part, but Hades is right here, so really, what could go wrong? I take a step toward Cerberus, who cocks all three heads at me.

“Lyra.” Hades grabs me by my elbow. “I told you—”

“He said I could.”

“He said—” His gaze cuts to Cerberus. “Traitor.”

“Why is he a traitor?” I raise my brows.

“He only ever talks to me.” Hades shifts on his feet before tacking on, “And Charon.”

The ferryman who takes dead souls across the River Styx for coin. That little fact is a reality check. I might have been forgetting for a second there, while we were arguing, exactly who Hades is. King of the Underworld, with a monster for a pet and a reaper for his gatekeeper.

“Cerberus probably smells me on you,” Hades says.

I frown. “Smells you?”

“My gift.” His gaze drops to my mouth, and he might as well have brushed his thumb softly over the flesh there.

Oh. Right. That. I almost reach up and touch my tingling lips but manage to stop myself. Hades is watching.

“I’m talking to her because she likes me.” I think the head to the right is speaking because it leans forward.

“She called me amazing. No one ever likes me except you.” That’s the tongue-lolling head.

The grumpy head says nothing—not the talker of the three, I guess.

“Yeah, well, her sense of self-preservation has clearly been tampered with,” Hades says. “She’s drawn to danger.”

“Stop.” I pretend to preen. “You’ll make me blush.”

I walk to Cerberus, who drops to his belly.

I mentally name his heads. Cer for the one in charge because he’d go by “sir,” Ber for the grumpy one because he’s cold, and Rus for goofy because it just sounds like him.

I reach up and scratch behind one ear on what I think is his goofy head on the left. “Oh my goodness, you are so soft!”

“What were you expecting? Leather scales?” Rus’ tongue lolls out of his mouth on a doggy laugh, and his breath smells of sulfur.

I glance over at Hades, who is watching with resigned irritation, and I can’t hold in a laugh. “Oh my gods.”

“What now?” His words are dust dry.

“The resemblance is uncanny.” I look back and forth between them, putting a hand to my chin and pretending to study them like works of art. “With that frowny face, you could apply to be one of Cerberus’ heads. You’re practically quadruplets.”

“Very funny,” Hades drawls.

Cer lays his head on his paws. “Forget it. I’m much prettier.”

Hades’ expression turns even more sour, and I laugh again. “True.”

The god of death eyes his hellhound. “See who gets an extra cow for a bedtime snack tonight.”

I make a face. “You eat cows for a bedtime snack?” I ask Cerberus.

“You don’t?” That’s all three.

“Are they dead when you—”

“What would be the fun in that?” Ber harrumphs.

I hold up a hand. “I don’t want to know.”

“Not to worry,” Cer says. “These are carnivorous cows and can fight back.”

I don’t even know what to say to that. “Everyone has a thing, I guess.”

Another woofy laugh blows more sulfur-scented breath all over me. “Can we keep her?” Rus asks Hades.

A small glow ignites in my chest. Is this how it feels to be wanted?

“Definitely not. I’d never know a day’s peace again,” Hades says. “Did you come here for a reason, mutt?”

Cerberus huffs—all three heads—then gracefully pushes to his feet to tower over me. I only come up to his shoulder. “You are needed,” the heads say in stereo.

I glance between them. Needed?

Hades’ lips press tight. This isn’t annoyance like a second ago, or even anger like when I came into the house. It’s…

What is it?

It can’t be guilt. I’m pretty sure gods don’t feel guilt. Especially this one.

He slides a look to me that I can’t interpret. “I’ll be there soon,” he says.

Cerberus nods, Rus gives me another nuzzle, and then the hellhound disappears the same way he arrived—in a cloud of smoke.

I shouldn’t ask. It’s none of my business.

I ask. “Not Isabel?”

“No.”

“Then who—”

“You should dress.”

It’s obvious he doesn’t want to tell me, but that only makes me want to find out more. “But it’s important?”

“Yes.” Curt and distant.

“All right…” I slowly turn on my heel.

“I won’t be here when you come out.”

I hesitate before I glance back. “I figured.”

Zero reaction. “We should talk when I return, work out a better strategy moving forward.”

“Don’t worry,” I tell him. “Zai and I are meeting for lunch and talking strategy. I’ve got it covered.”

“The hells you are.”

I don’t bother to wait to hear his next words as I shut my bedroom door in the god of death’s face.