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Ilias offered an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid this one must be obeyed, Persephone.”
That annoyed her, but it wasn’t Ilias’ fault. She smiled at the Satyr. “Only for you, then. Lead the way.”
She followed the Satyr as he cut through the thickening crowd and along the familiar path to Hades’ office. She was surprised when he followed her inside. He walked to the bar where Hades had served himself earlier in the day.
“Can I get you anything? Wine, Perhaps?”
“Yes, please—a cab, if you have it.”
If she was going to spend the evening with Hades and in the Underworld, she wanted a drink in her hand.
“Coming right up!”
The Satyr was so cheerful, she found it hard to believe he worked for Hades. Then again, Antoni had seemed to revere the god. She wondered if Ilias felt the same. She watched as he selected a bottle of wine and began to uncork it. After a moment, she asked, “Why do you serve Hades?”
“I do not serve Lord Hades. I work for him. There is a difference.”
Fair enough.
“Why do you work for him, then?”
“Lord Hades is very generous,” the Satyr explained. “Don’t believe everything you hear about him. Most of it isn’t true.”
That piqued her interest. “Tell me something that isn’t true.”
The Satyr chuckled as he poured her wine and slid the glass across the table.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
He bowed his head a little, placing his hand against his chest. When he looked at her again, she was surprised by his seriousness.
“They say Hades is protective of his realm, and while that is true, it isn’t about power. He cares for his people, protects them, and he takes it personally if anyone is harmed. If you belong to him, he will tear the world apart to save you.”
She shivered.
“But I don’t belong to him.”
Ilias smiled. “Yes, you do, or I wouldn’t be serving you wine in his office.” The Satyr bowed. “If you require anything, you must simply speak my name.”
With that, Ilias was gone and Persephone was left in the silence. It was so quiet in Hades’ office—the fireplace didn’t even pop. She wondered if this was a form of punishment in Tartarus. It would definitely have driven her insane.
After a moment, she walked to the wall of windows that overlooked the main floor of the club. She had the strange feeling that this was how the Olympians once felt when they lived in
the clouds and looked down upon the Earth.
She studied the mortals below. At first glance, she saw clusters of friends and couples, their worries banished by the drink in their hand. For them, this was a night of fun and euphoria. A night not too unlike the one she had on her first visit. For others, though, their visit to Nevernight meant hope.
She picked them out one-by-one. They gave themselves away by the way they glanced longingly at the spiral staircase that led to the second floor where Hades made his deals. She noted the slumped shoulders of the stressed, the glistening sweat on the brows of the anxious, the rigid posture of the desperate.
The sight made her sad, but they would be warned soon enough not to fall prey to Hades’ games. She would make sure of it.
She turned from the window, and her eyes fell on Hades’ desk. It was a huge piece of obsidian and looked as if it had been cleaved from the earth and polished. Persephone wondered if it had come from the Underworld. She trailed her fingers along its smooth surface. Unlike her desk, which was already covered in sticky notes and personalized with photos, his was free of clutter. She was disappointed. She’d hoped to glean something useful from the contents, but this one didn’t even have drawers.
She sighed and turned around, remembering that Minthe had appeared from a passage behind Hades desk. Looking at the wall now, there was no indication a door existed. She stepped closer, leaning forward to inspect the wall—seamless.
The door probably responded to Hades magic, which meant it should respond to her favor. She ran her hand over the smooth surface—until her hand sunk into the wall. She gasped and drew back quick, heart beating hard in her chest. She inspected her hand front and back, but found she was fine.
