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Eloise walked to the door and opened it. Two guards stood on either side of her bedroom door. Both were burly and wide-shouldered with hammer-like fists. They looked ahead, their scowls dark. But as soon as Eloise stepped out, one of them, the man with dark hair and neatly trimmed beard, immediately moved to block her way. He was so tall and broad that Eloise had trouble seeing anything past his shoulders.
“Good afternoon,” Eloise said to his chest. “Can you possibly point me in the direction of the kitchen?”
“Kitchen?” The man frowned and scratched his jaw. “Why would you want to know the way to the kitchen?”
Eloise cocked her head to the side and craned her neck to try and look into his eyes. “Why, to eat, of course.”
“The supper’s in an hour,” another man barked from the other side of the door.
Eloise took a peek at him. He was as tall as the first guard and wore the same menacing scowl. Didn’t anybody smile in this house? Perhaps there was nothing to smile about.
“But I am hungry now,” Eloise insisted. “Your master told me I am a guest here. Not a prisoner. And is this the way to treat your guest? Keep me hungry?”
The guard in front of her sent an uncertain gaze toward his companion.
“The supper’s in an hour,” the latter repeated, as though that was the only phrase he knew. He took a step toward her, his scowl a living, breathing thing, making Eloise retreat into the confines of her room. As Eloise stepped over the threshold, he shut the door in Eloise’s face.
Eloise blinked and froze in place from her stupor.
A guest.She snorted.
If that’s how they treated their guests, she wondered how they treated their prisoners. She heaved a sigh, walked toward the bed, and plopped face down onto the mattress. What was she to do for an hour before supper?
A journal would only go so far. And she could write her entire life’s story there in an hour. There really wasn’t anything to boast about. But then what would she do for the rest of her imprisonment here?
* * *
Hades sat on an old, creaky armchair, lost in deep thought. He was in a spacious hall, empty save for a few long dining tables and chairs. It was the biggest chamber in the house and served as a dining area, ballroom, and place for Hades to work.
One of the reasons he’d chosen this hall for work was because he detested his pompous bedchamber, and he didn’t have an office or a study. This mansion was built in the medieval castle style. In fact, it might have been a castle in the prior century. Hades was not interested in history, but the previous owner—from whom Hades seized this place—had said that part of the mansion had burned in the great fire of 1666. Then the place was rebuilt, keeping most of the original layout but adding modern touches.
One part of the original layout that was preserved was this great hall. Since this was the center of the entire mansion, this place was usually full of laughter and banter. Everybody congregated here, dined, danced, and drank.
But ever since Ava’s passing, people had started tiptoeing around Hades again, leaving him at peace. He had wondered more than once if he should move his work area to another place. The main reason he had worked here was because that way he was accessible to others. There were no doors to keep anyone out, and he could keep an eye on everyone coming and leaving the house.
Now, with everyone avoiding him, the entire house seemed empty. He didn’t want the rest of the house to mourn with him. But aside from the loathsome bedchamber, the only other place he could work in was the library. And that place was just too full of memories.
“Master.” Lucien’s hoarse voice pulled Hades out of his thoughts. Hades briefly closed his eyes, not ready to face the world again. “Jamison is here. He requests an audience.”
Hades lifted a brow. “He does, does he?”
His fingers curled into fists, and Hades bit on the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to calm down. He needed to control his temper. Otherwise, he would go out to meet Jamison and rip him to shreds.
“He is not alone. He brought the other thief-takers with him,” the man continued.
Slimy bastard.The only reason Jamison even knew the location of Hades’ dwelling was because he walked a thin line between the criminal world and the thief-takers’ one. He was a constant patron of Hades’ hell, and he was friends with many of the members and workers. But he was a thief-taker, nonetheless. And Hades should have known that he would come demanding Miss Gunning back.
“What am I to tell him, Master?” Lucien insisted.
Hades trained his eyes on him, and the bandit stepped back. Lucien was a big man, every bandit in Hades’ fold was, and he wasn’t easily frightened. But everybody stepped back under Hades’ icy gaze.
“Tell him,” Hades said, his voice silky, “that just because he did a few favors for us doesn’t mean he can come here and demand an audience with me every time he wishes. Tell him our truce has passed. If he thinks that just because he is on the right side of the law, he can lie and cheat to get what he wants, he is wrong. Tell him, if he comes here again without Ava’s killer’s head on a spike, we shall find another head to adorn my mansion gates.”
Lucien gulped, eyeing Hades warily. “Whose?”
“His.” As Lucien turned to deliver the message, Hades stopped him. “After they leave, make certain that band of thief-takers is closely watched. I want to know about every step they take. And if they come within a hundred yards of this place again, do not hesitate to shoot.”
Hades leaned back in his seat and looked away.
