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He felt a pang in his chest, remembering how Briareus had died. There had been no grief, no begging or anger, only peaceful acceptance. Perhaps that was the worst part, the trust the giant had placed in him, that it had been his time to go and not that his death had been ordered by another god.
And even as Hades had taken Briareus’s hand and drew his soul from his body, like a slice of shadow shaken from the darkness, he had known the consequences would be far reaching, beyond even what the Fates could weave, because once Zeus and Briareus’s brothers, Gyges and Cottus, discovered what he had done, he would no longer have their support or allegiance. Not that he believed either brother would choose him over Zeus. He was not the one who had rescued them from the darkness of Tartarus. Still, they had been allies to the Olympians in the war against the Titans, helping drive the elder gods into the depths of Tartarus. It meantthat if Hades found himself in opposition to Zeus, as he was certain to, especially given his engagement to Persephone, he would not have the help of the two remaining giants when things came to a head, and he could not blame them.
Hades had repaid their loyalty with an execution.
The God of the Dead left the field, manifesting in his office at Nevernight. As soon as he appeared, silence descended, thick and heavy. He looked at those gathered—Ilias, Zofie, Dionysus, and…Hermes.
Hades’s eyes dropped to the God of Mischief who was reclined in his chair, feet propped on his desk. Their eyes met, and a sheepish smile broke out across his golden face. Hades scowled, showing his teeth, and sent the god scrambling to his feet.
“I was just keeping it warm,” Hermes defended.
Hades glared and took his seat. It was indeed warm, which only made him stare harder at the god.
“Nothing but the best for the King of the Dead,” Hermes added with a cheerful grin as he moved to sit on the edge of Hades’s obsidian desk.
“If so much asoneof your ass cheeks touches this desk, Hermes, I will turn it to lava.”
“It’s not as if they’rebare,” Hermes argued.
Hades gave the god a withering look.
“You know what? The couch is far more comfortable anyway,” Hermes said, perching on the armrest.
Hades turned his attention to those gathered, in particular Dionysus. He hung back, not quite part of the group—likely because he did not wish to be. He wasdressed far more casually than usual, in dark trousers and a beige sweater. His thick braids were tied back, and his arms were crossed over his chest. He looked frustrated, and if Hades had to guess, it had little to do with his summons to Nevernight and everything to do with the mortal detective Dionysus was harboring at his club, Ariadne Alexiou.
Hades was surprised he had come, though it likely only had to do with his curiosity. Dionysus had a strained relationship with the Olympians, mostly due to Hera’s hatred of him, which was why he had finally decided to take a side. But Hades was not stupid. He knew that did not mean Dionysus was loyal to him. It only meant that the God of Madness was loyal to himself.
“The ophiotaurus has been resurrected,” Hades said. “Its constellation is no longer in the sky.”
There was a certain amount of dread that came with saying the words aloud that Hades had not expected to feel, but he was responsible for this, which meant he was also responsible for the fallout if the creature fell into the wrong hands.
“Ilias,” Hades said, meeting the satyr’s gaze. He stood beside Zofie, hair as curly as the horns jutting from his head. “Tell us what you have learned about the monster.”
“So far, there has only been one sighting. A farmer outside Thebes claimed he heard a strange bellow in the middle of the night. He thought one of his cows had been injured, but when he went to investigate, he found a half-bull, half-serpent creature coiled around it. Once it had spotted him, it slithered away into the grass.” Ilias paused and glanced at everyone gathered. “The cow did not make it.”
There was a beat of silence as Hades added, “Neither did the farmer.”
Ilias’s jaw tightened.
“He was perfectly well yesterday.”
“And today he is dead,” Hades said. “Full of bullets.”
“So someone other than us wants the creature,” said Dionysus. “Not surprising, but who?”
“Isn’t that the question of the hour.”
Hades stared hard at the God of the Vine, not that he suspected Dionysus had anything to do with the farmer’s death. He was, however, aware that he enjoyed collecting monsters as much as Poseidon. It was one reason he preferred keeping the god close, even with their new and fragile alliance.
Dionysus narrowed his eyes. “How did the creature come to be resurrected, Hades?”
The God of the Dead did not like the accusation in his voice, but Hades was not Dionysus, and he would not hide from his responsibility.
“Because I killed an immortal.”
Dionysus’s harsh features softened, but not out of sympathy.
It was shock.
