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Hades shoved the bident clear through Tantalus’body, and it lodged in the wall behind him.
“My lord.”
Hades turned to find Ilias standing in the doorway. The satyr glanced passively at the dead mortal pinned to Hades’ wall. This was not an unusual display for either of them.
“Sisyphus has arrived. He awaits you in the Diamond Suite.”
It had taken weeks, but Hades’ promise of a bargain had finally lured the mortal to Nevernight.
“Shall I call in a crew?” he asked, looking at Tantalus again.
Hades frowned. He had made a mess.
“No,” he said.“I’ll bring him back after he rots and torture him again.”
Hades started to shift when Ilias stopped him again.
“Perhaps it’s the look you’re going for,” he said,“but you do appear to have just murdered someone.”
Hades stared down at his clothes, spattered with fresh blood. He could leave it, perhaps it would serve as a warning to Sisyphus, except that Hades knew there was little that could scare the mortal now. He had, after all, run from Hades twice. The god snapped his fingers, restoring his pristine appearance, before teleporting to the Diamond Suite.
Like the other suites, it boasted luxury. The windowless walls were decorated with modern, monochrome art. A chandelier dripping with glimmering crystals hung at the center of the room, and beneath that, a set of black leather couches faced each other, a slab of marble made into a table separated the two.
A man occupied one of the sofas. He looked a little rough, his beard not nearly as neat, his suit not nearly as tailored, the gold that had weighted down his fingers gone, and the odor of fish and salt clung to his skin.
In previous weeks, Hades had imagined this moment feeling quite different. There had been more momentum behind his wish to see the mortal imprisoned in his realm, because he was in danger of losing Persephone. He had felt desperate and determined, and he saw capturing Sisyphus as claiming his future.
And he guessed, in a way, that was still true.
This was his future. He was the God of the Dead, a punisher.
“Tell me, mortal,” Hades said. Sisyphus’head snapped toward him, and he sprang to his feet.“What convinced you to come?”
“My lord, I did not know you had arrived.”
Hades moved to the bar and poured himself a drink. He turned to Sisyphus, whose eyes had not moved from him.
“Well?” he asked.
The man gave a breathy chuckle.“Well, you offered immorality.”
Hades downed his drink and poured another, saying nothing else.
He took a seat across from Sisyphus, who sank into the cushions. Hades manifested a deck of cards. All the cards used here were the same, black and gold, the picture on the back an image of the Fates, spinning, measuring, and cutting the Thread of Fate.
It was a fitting image for the pair.
Sisyphus sat on the edge of the couch, knees spread out, hands dangling between them.
“Blackjack,” he said as he cut the deck and shuffled the cards. He could tell the sound of the cards flicking made the mortal nervous. His fingers were twitching.“One hand, Sisyphus. You have already wasted enough of my time.”
“A fifty-fifty chance,” the mortal responded.“Are you so confident?”
Hades did not reply as he dealt them each two cards. Sisyphus dragged them with his chubby fingers, but just as he started to pry up the edge, Hades stopped him.
“Before you reveal your hand,” he said.“I would like to know why.”
“Why, what?”
