83

83

Too Late

“The Stygian Marsh.”

The crossroads of the Underworld. Where souls are judged and sent to different destinations depending on how they lived their lives in the Overworld. It’s said Hades has to judge the best and worst cases and render blessings or punishment. Given how he looks, it doesn’t take a genius to guess which he was just deciding.

“Want to talk about it?” I ask.

Knee-jerk denial ripples over his features, but then he pauses and leans in the doorway. “The judgment wasn’t the hard part. This soul was a sociopath and tortured and killed many people without mercy or remorse.” He shrugs, but I can see the weight of whatever they must’ve been like in the action.

I wait quietly for the hard part.

“But his mother is a soul in Asphodel, and…” He drops his head back against the doorjamb. “She begged for his punishment to be lessened, told me about his abusive father. I saw it all, of course.”

“Was it bad?”

Hades comes off the door and drops into the seat where Charon just was, pulling it closer. Then he takes my hand in both of his, tracing the lines of my palm. “No soul is born evil. There are proclivities, leanings, but like carbon is compressed and fired into a diamond, pressure and pain can transform a soul into something terrible.”

The empathy Hades hides from the world is showing. He felt for this person and what made him into a monster. For his mother, too.

“I can see alternate futures when they come to me, sometimes—what could have been if things had been different.”

“And this could have been different?”

He nods. “So many lives ruined.”

This is what the King of the Underworld must endure. “I wish I could help.”

He searches my eyes, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “You do?”

Warmth blooms in my face, but I leave my hand right where it is. “Yeah.”

His dimples peek at me for a quick second. “Yeah.” He takes a long, slow breath, then releases it in a rush. “Let’s change the topic.”

I get needing emotional space, so I try not to be hurt by the distance threading his voice. But I pull my hand back and scratch an itch on my arm. “Were the other gods mad about having to wait for me?”

Hades groans. “How about something else?”

That’s not a good sign. “What happened?”

“They sent Asclepius and the Daemones down,” he says. “They understood after they saw the shape you were in.”

His voice isn’t right.

“Tell me the bad news. Go ahead. Rip it off like a Band-Aid.”

He leans back in his chair. “I’ve never understood that expression.”

The casual pose doesn’t fool me at all. “Then you’ve never worn a Band-Aid that got stuck to hair or part of the scab.” I pin him with a hard look. “You’re stalling, Phi.”

“Uh-uh.” He shakes his head. “You don’t get to call me that.”

I frown. “Charon does.”

“Yes.”

“Then why can’t I?”

He crosses his arms. “My star…has anyone ever called you stubborn to your face?”

“You’re still stalling.”

He looks bored, reminding me of the night we met.

“Fine. I won’t call you Phi. But back to the Band-Aid… I’ll imagine much worse things. It’s better to tell me now and get it over with.”

He glances to his right at a window with curtains drawn across it. “They didn’t wait.”

My heart plummets to my gut. “They went ahead with the next Labor without me?” Shit. “Who won?”

“Diego.”

Double shit. Now he’s won two, and Boone’s counting on me.

“Start from the beginning, and tell me everything,” I demand.

Hades runs a hand through his hair, the pale lock flopping onto his forehead, making him appear disheveled. “Damn.”

“What happened to your poker face?” I tease with a wan smile. “Now I really need you to tell me.”

He looks away, and I can tell he’s debating it, but eventually his expression flattens to something grimly resigned. “Fine.”

I exhale deeply. He really could have said no.

“Samuel won Hephaestus’ Labor, beating Trinica by only two seconds. His prize was a compass Hephaestus made that will always point the correct way to go.”

“Three Strength virtue wins in a row,” I say. “Do you get the feeling the Labors are rigged?”

Hades lifts a single eyebrow. “When have my siblings ever played fair?”

Good point.

“Demeter’s was the eighth Labor,” he continues. “She had them run through the Fields of Forgetting. If they succumbed and got lost, storms would chase them down.” After a pause, his voice is gentler when he says, “Neve didn’t make it.”

My stomach turns over, then over again. Another of us is gone?

I swallow around a throat thickening with grief but nod for him to continue.

“Diego won, and his prize was the Protective Mark of the Algea—he can’t feel pain. Physical or mental. The ninth—”

I hold up a hand. “Wait.” No. Tell me they didn’t. “They’ve completed more than one Labor while I’ve been out?” I ask slowly.

He nods.

We’re fucked. “How long was I out?”

“Almost two weeks.”

“Two—” I feel the blood drain from my face. I thought it was days. Suddenly, Hades is standing by my side, tipping a cup of water to my lips. I swallow some, which helps. Before my injury, the Crucible was being run with only a few days between Labors at the very most. Almost two weeks?

Hades sets the cup down and takes my hand in his, a lifeline of steady strength.

“How many did they get to?” I ask.

“You’re upset, and you should be resting. We can talk about this later—”

“No. Now.” I spear him with a glare.

The zap of emotions when it strikes this time is a mix of regret and reluctance. “Three Labors—the eighth, ninth, and tenth.”

“Three,” I whisper.

Three Labors. There are only two left. “Tell me the rest.” I’m not sure I really want to know.

“The ninth was Hera’s. As the goddess of the stars, she put a new constellation in the skies. The champions had to figure out which one. The world remained dark until they did, and she unleashed Deimos and Phobos on the champions to make it harder.”

The gods of fear and panic when it’s pitch-black? “I bet that was a treat,” I mutter.

“Rima and Zai figured it out together.”

I allow myself a small moment to smile at that. “Tied?”

He nods. “Hera gave them separate prizes. Zai has a stone that, when eaten, will ward off poison. And Rima was given a single vial of dragon fire.”

I shudder. I only dealt with a glamoured dragon, and that was enough for me.

But the good news is that gives Zai and Diego two wins each. I could still beat them. I just need to win the last two.

“And the tenth?” I ask.

“Ares,” he says.

I wince. Of all the Labors, Ares’ was the one I’d dreaded the most. I can’t say I’m all that sorry to have missed it. “A battle?”

“As he’s the god of war, you’d think so,” Hades says. “But he reminded the champions that in the ancient world, almost every god of war was about protection of their community, their people. His Labor was centered around that. Each of them was given a baby chimera. They had to get it back to the nest without being mauled by the baby and without the mother destroying Larissa, Greece, where her babies were taken.”

Interesting.

“Samuel was severely injured.”

My breath catches. “He’s not—”

“No,” he says. “Not yet. I loaned Zeus the doctors who worked on you.”

Which means none of the Strength virtues won that Labor, or Asclepius would have healed him. “Thank you for that.”

I pause, studying him. I’m not sure Hades would have done that on his own. But for me…

No. Silly idea, Lyra.

I force my mind back to the Labors. I almost don’t want to ask the next part.

“Who won?”

The way he hesitates, he doesn’t have to say it. I already know.

“Diego.”

Oh gods.

“His prize is a spear that telescopes down to pocket-sized.” Hades’ voice sounds like it’s coming down a tunnel.

I close my eyes to hold the panic at bay, pushing the desperation and terrible truth down where they can’t hurt me. Where I can think.

Zai won one. That gives him two. And Diego…three, now. At the very most, with only two left to play, I could tie for the lead, and I’d have to beat Zai to do it.

“What do they do if there’s a tie?” I force my eyes open for the answer.

“It depends,” Hades says slowly. “But they don’t allow two winners. There can only be one ruler of the gods.”

Fuck.

I want to scream the word. Scream at the unfairness. Just…scream.

No. I curl my free hand into a fist in my lap. There’s too much riding on this, and I don’t have time to wallow or lose it. I have to think. “I have to try anyway. A tie is still a chance.”

Hades’ scowl could strip concrete off rebar. “You can barely sit up.”

I scowl right back. “Then you’d better get your ass back up to Olympus and buy me a few more days. I’m doing it.”

He shoves a hand through his hair as he’s up off his chair, whirling away from me. Even his rigid shoulders look like they’re considering all the ways to get me to not do this. “Don’t make me put you through more,” he says in a voice I’ve never heard from him before.

Can’t he see? If I don’t, I’ll hate myself.

“Hades.” I say his name quietly, and his back goes even more rigid, like he’s ready to snap. “Please. I have to.”

“Fuck,” he mutters. His hands go to his hips as his head drops forward, and his shoulders rise and fall. “Fine. I’ll go talk to them.”