Page 13 of Ungodly Rich

Like everything Hades owned, the apartment was expensive, with dark-veined marble countertops and unlacquered brass hardware and hand-woven rugs. The living room was so vast it could fit multiple groupings of furniture, along with the poker table, around which several dozen people currently stood.

Hades glanced across the table at the only other player who remained in the game, some thirty-something startup billionaire. The type of new-age tech bro who wore Vince waffle sweaters, who attended music festivals in Miami and bragged about his membership at Zero Bond. Unimpressed, Hades turned his attention to the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked over the streets of Soho.

There were somanyhumans down there: streaming into the subways, pouring in and out of restaurants. Little did they know that up here in the penthouse, Hollywood celebrities and finance CEOs gambled vast sums of money in what had become the world’s most exclusive, most expensive poker game. It only happened once a month, but the buy-in was a hundred thousand dollars. And the stakes only went up.

“Raise,” the tech kid said at last, shoving his remaining chips onto the table. The other gamblers—who’d long ago folded and were now standing around the table clutching tumblers of Glenfiddich or glasses of Dom—gasped.

Hades gave a wolfish smile, then pushed his own chips forward.

His opponent’s face collapsed when they flipped over their cards and he saw Hades’s hand.

“You cheated!” the tech bro spluttered.

No, Hades hadn’t cheated. He was shockingly puritanical about playing poker like a human would. Where was the fun in winning if he used his powers?

“Congratulations, Lucian,” the dealer said deferentially, using Hades’s most recent alias. To these humans, he was nothing more than a mysterious and wealthy man who showed up at the poker game. They had no idea that he owned this apartment, let alone that he was a god.

When he saw Cerb in the corner, Hades reached into his pocket for his silver ring and slipped it on. The humans who’d been looking at him glanced away, as if they’d forgotten he was there. With a sleepy blink, the dealer began shuffling the cards, and several men reclaimed their seats at the poker table.

Hades stood and made his way through the guests. None of them looked at him, not once. A waitress wove past him with a tray of drinks, neatly swerving the tray to avoid hitting him, though she didn’t seem aware of him at all. At least, her conscious brain wasn’t aware of him, even if she sensed his presence on some instinctive level.

When he reached Cerb, Hades tucked the ring back into his pocket, becoming visible once more. Cerb didn’t even flinch at his sudden reappearance.

“Your nephew is here. I grabbed him outside Zeus and Hera’s place,” Cerb explained.

Hades nodded. “Bring him upstairs.”

Several minutes later, Cerb entered Hades’s office, dragging Hermes unceremoniously by the scruff of his neck. Hades nodded at the opposite chair, but Hermes crossed his arms and stubbornly remained standing, though he swayed a bit on his feet.

When Cerb had left, Hades opened a drawer and withdrew a key, then walked around to unlock the handcuff on Hermes’s wrist. Relief instantly flooded the other god’s face.

“Don’t even think about trying to run off. You know I’ll find you again, and it will only be worse,” Hades warned.

Resentment flashed in Hermes’s hazel eyes, but he sat.

“For the god of luck, you had a terrible run at poker,” Hades said mildly, taking his own seat. “Didn’t you learn from your mistakes last time?”

“I can’t pay you back, at least not right now—”

“I don’t want money,” Hades cut in.

Few of the gods understood how to deal in mortal money, content to perpetually live off handouts from Zeus. But Hades had long ago seen the writing on the wall. If the gods were going to live among men, they needed to operate like them. So he’d started investing—with great success. Hades had amassed a monumental fortune, the sort that could only be made by someone who had centuries to watch those investments pan out, someone observant and insightful and patient. Someone unafraid to get their hands dirty.

“What I want is information,” Hades went on. “I assume you saw Hera this afternoon? What did you two talk about?”

“She wasn’t home,” Hermes said evasively.

Even better. “So she hasn’t heard your news yet?”

Hermes just stared at him.

Hades repeated himself slowly, as if speaking to a child, then added, “This is how you’re going to repay your debt to me, by telling me what you planned on telling Hera.”

“If I do…my debts will be cleared?” Hermes asked carefully.

“Why don’t you share what you know, and I’ll decide how much it’s worth.”

“Afteryou’ve heard it? That’s hardly fair!”