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Hades watched the god for a moment, and then his eyes shifted to an empty bottle of vodka that sat on the table beside the bed. Another lay on the ground.
Fuck.
Apollo was difficult to deal with when he was sober, but drunk?
Hades gave a frustrated sigh, swiped one of the empty bottles off the floor, filled it with water from the tub, and then poured it over Apollo’s face.
The god flailed beneath the stream.
“What the fuck!” Apollo sputtered.
Though he was awake, Hades did not stop until the bottle was empty. He let his arm drop to his side as Apollo glared back at him.
“You snore,” Hades said.
“I do not snore!” Apollo snapped.
“Yes, you do,” Hades said. “I just heard you.”
Apollo ignored him and pulled on the hem of his robe with two fingers. “You’ve ruined my kimono.” He pushed off the bed and discarded the robe as he walked bare-ass naked to a wardrobe across the room. He threw open the doors to reveal several kimonos of the same color and pattern.
Hades shook his head. “What the fuck?”
“What, Hades?” the god snapped, taking a robe from one of the hangers and slipping it on as he raged. “It’sfashion, something you would know little about since the only color in your wardrobe is black, but I suppose that is fitting since it’s the color of your soul.”
Hades raised a brow. He wasn’t so certain this was about fashion as much as it was about what Apollo found comforting, but he did not say that aloud.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
Apollo took a deep breath. “Yes, actually,” he said, slamming the wardrobe doors. “No thanks to you. What are you doing here anyway?”
“You were supposed to conduct the autopsy on Adonis,” said Hades.
“Idid,” said Apollo. “And he was full ofholes.”
That was no surprise given they’d found a knife handle near Adonis’s body.
“Any idea what he was stabbed with?” Hades asked.
“Something curved,” Apollo answered, running a hand through his wet hair.
“How do you know?” Hades asked.
“Because when I stuck my finger in the wound, itcurved, Hades. For fuck’s sake. You asked me to do an autopsy. I fucking did it.”
Hades wasn’t sure what disturbed him more, Apollo’smoodiness or the knowledge that whatever had aided in taking Adonis’s life was a curved blade.
It made him think of one blade in particular—his father’s scythe.
“What’s wrong?” Hades asked.
“What’s wrong?” Apollo repeated, whipping around to face the God of the Dead. “I don’t know, Hades. Perhaps I am angry because I was waterboarded awake.”
Hades rolled his eyes and sighed, but Apollo wasn’t finished.
“Or maybe it’s because I spent most of my day elbows-deep in a fucking body after being summoned to a fucking crime scene at four in the gods-damned morning.”
Hades watched the god as he started to pace.
