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This had not been torture.
It was a slaying.
Hades dropped the blade as if it burned and drew his hands behind his head. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths until he felt calm again. He was insane, sick, and violent. How could he possibly think he might one day be worthy of love?
The thought was laughable, and his hope was selfish.
And he knew then that the only way he would ever keep Persephone was if she never discovered this side of him. The one that craved brutality and bloodshed.
***
Later that evening, Thanatos found Hades in his office and offered a bundle wrapped in white cloth.
“Atropos’s shears,” he said.
Hades would take them to Hephaestus so the God of Fire could restore them.
The two were quiet, each lost in their own thoughts.
After a moment, the God of Death spoke.“What sort of power would destroy the Fates’ magic?”
“Their own,” Hades replied.
Which meant more than likely, Sisyphus de Ephyra had found a relic.
After The Great War, scavengers collected items from the battlefield—pieces of broken shields, swords, spears, fabrics. They were items that contained residual magic, items that could still pose a threat if they fell into the wrong hands. Hades had worked for years to extract relics from circulating in the black market, but there were thousands and sometimes it took a disaster to figure out who was in possession of one.
A disaster like Sisyphus de Ephyra.
Hades would be damned if he let a mortal like him cheat him out of love.
Ilias had delivered a file earlier. It confirmed what Hades had suspected—Alexander Sotir was addicted to Evangeline and in debt to his dealer, Sisyphus, but making the connection did no good until Hades located the mortal.
“What will you do?” Thanatos asked.
“Visit Olympus,” Hades replied, shuddering.
CHAPTER VII – MOUNT OLYMPUS
Olympus was a marble city upon a mountain. It was bright, beautiful, and vast. Several narrow passages branched off from a courtyard rimmed with statues of the Olympians, leading to homes and shops where demi-gods and their servants lived.
Like the gods and the world below, Olympus had also evolved. Zeus had ordered the installation of a stadium and theater in addition to the existing gymnasium, where gods trained and mortals fought or performed for them. It was one of Zeus’s favorite pastimes and a practice that had not changed, even though the God of Thunder now lived on Earth.
Hades did not often venture to Olympus. Even before The Great Descent, it was a place he preferred to avoid, much like he preferred to avoid Olympia, the new Olympus, but there were a few gods who still resided in the clouds, among them Athena, Hestia, Artemis, and Helios.
It was Helios Hades wanted to see now—Helios, God of the Sun, one of few Titans who did not dwell in Tartarus.
Hades found Helios resting in the Tower of the Sun, a sanctuary made of white marble and gold that rose over the other buildings on Olympus, a pillar cutting through the clouds. The surface gleamed with its own internal light, like the sun shining on water. It was the tower from which he launched his four-horsed golden chariot across the sky and where he returned at night.
The Titan lounged upon a gold throne, his head resting on his fist as if he were bored, not exhausted from his work. He was dressed in purple robes, and his white-blond hair fell in waves past his shoulders, his head crowned with the aureole of the sun.
Helios blinked slowly at Hades, his hooded eyes the color of amber.
“Hades,” he spoke, acknowledging him with a lazy nod, his voice deep and resonate.
“Helios.” Hades inclined his head.
“You wish to know where the mortal Sisyphus is hiding.”
