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Hades had rejected Apollo’s plea to die in the aftermath of Hyacinth’s death, and he’d had many reasons for it, one being that granting such a wish would have been seen as taking a life, and the Fates would have demanded a soul, a give-and-take, and there was no telling what they’d have done with a sacrifice as great as Apollo.
“While it is true you annoy the ever livingfuckout of me,” Hades said, “andI couldmurderyou for the bargain you struck with Persephone…I would miss this.”
“Miss what?” Apollo asked, confused.
“This,” Hades said, waving a hand at the whole of Apollo, “pathetic…”
“Pathetic?”
“…pitiable…”
“Pitiable?”
“…miserable…”
“Miserable?”
“…thing you have going on. It really exudes God of Light.”
“Fuck you,” Apollo said.
Hades chuckled darkly.
“You’rethe one who asked what was wrong,” Apollo muttered.
“I also asked how Adonis died,” said Hades. “And all you told me was that he was stabbed with a curved blade.”
“Did you miss the part where I said multiple times?” Apollo snapped.
“Show me the body,” Hades said. “Show me the wounds.”
Apollo offered a sigh that sounded more like a growl, a single word slipping between gritted teeth.
“Fine.”
Hades manifested inside one of Apollo’s dark, cold temples. This particular one was no longer in use and was located in what was now known as the old agora in New Athens. In ancient times, this had been a lively public space where citizens gathered to celebrate, worship, play games, and demonstrate the arts. Now, in the aftermath of battles and deadly weather, it was mostly in ruins.
Apollo appeared and pushed Hades aside, striding to the corner of the room where a metal table was positioned against the wall.
“Don’t you think you should change?” Hades asked, as the god was still wearing his prized kimono. If he had thought water had ruined it, wasn’t blood worse?
But Apollo did not seem to care. He latched on to the white, bloodied cloth that covered Adonis’s body and pulled it off with a flourish.
Hades had seen a lot of dead bodies—a lot—so he was surprised that he was not quite prepared for this.
He approached the body slowly. Now that Adonis was clean, Hades could make out the wide wounds down his torso and along his legs and arms, even his face. Around each laceration, reddish-brown bruises had blossomed, as if he’d been stabbed to the hilt with moreforce than necessary. It was damage beyond anything Hades could imagine with a normal knife.
Then Hades noticed one wound on his side that did not seem to have stopped bleeding.
Strange.
“Apollo,” Hades said. “You are certain there’s nothing left in those wounds?”
“I dug in each of them,” Apollo said.
“Why is this one bleeding?”
“Dead bodies don’t bleed, Hades—” Apollo went silent as he came around the body and stood beside Hades. “I don’t think that’s blood,” said Apollo. The god stepped forward and stuck his finger into the leaking wound.
