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16
Katy
Tea is exactly what I need, and a slice of chocolate cake, too. We’re gathered around the bar in the club, and Elenora has set out a whole spread, as if she knows I’m going to need a lot of sugar to get me through whatever the hell is going on right now.
Hadrion won’t stop staring at me, and Falcon is looking between us with an angry, pinched expression.
“So I can’t just give him the key,” I finally say, after sipping my third cup of tea, the cake eaten and gone. Elenora is bustling around the bar itself, cleaning up. The sound of the sink fills the air, and I glance between Hadrion, Falcon, and Shay. She’s got a piece of cake in front of her, but hasn’t touched it. “What am I supposed to do, then?”
“Nothing,” Hadrion says firmly, just as Shay and Falcon open their mouths to say something. He shakes his head, cutting them off with a sharp slice of his hand through the air. He looks upset, tormented even, and he runs his hands through his hair, exhaling. “Of course, the key would be within my reach, but power would drive me from it. Someone wants to send me over the edge, into madness. Is that not why I was sent to the mortalrealm? To endure their constant inanities, nattering, ridiculous fights? Was it not bad enough that I was tasked with caring for their souls for eternity?”
“I think your complaining got you in this situation in the first place,” Shay says, her tone mild, and her eyes glint.
“How so?” Hadrion demands, and she gives him a long, slow blink.
“You did not keep the Underworld secure,” she says, “it was open to attack, and it was attacked, and now here you are.”
“Only a Norseman would be so frank.” Falcon taps his fingers on the bar-surface, as Elenora slips into the back office, closing the door behind her, taking our plates and cups upstairs to be put away.
“A viking.” Hadrion sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. I almost feel bad for him. I know what it’s like to be shut out of my entire world, don’t I? Ever since Mom... well, I’ve barely had a family, been lurking in the shadows ignored or berated in turns, by my family for most of my life. And also, Hadrion clearly thought about saving me (an obviously not altruistic act on his part, something I am going to have words with him about later) was the answer to all of his problems.
Except now, it’s not.
“I am, indeed, a viking.” Shay nods.
“Wait,” I cut in, looking at Shay, “you’re a viking god... like... what? I thought you were like an ice spirit.” Shay gives me a wicked grin, and my stomach turns on itself. She did say that Hadrion was surrounded by fierce allies.
“We have many names,” she says, her eyes shining, and then she winks at me. It looks like flecks of ice and snow sparkle from within her eyes, and a cold thrill runs up my spine.
“You’re terrifying, you know that, right?” I ask, and her smile spreads wider.
“Terror and consequences keep mortals in their place, and safe,” she says. Our place? A bit of annoyance lifts in my chest, hot bubbles of irritation at being talked about like I’m not even here.
“Sometimes,” Falcon says, “but enough. Hadrion--“
“Isn’t his name Hades?” I interrupt, and Falcon gives me a withering look. Hades-or-Hadrion sighs, that sculptured jaw of his shifting from side to side.
“Hades when I’m on the throne,” he answers me neatly. “Hadrion in the mortal realm. It doesn’t do to call attention to my true nature.”
My eyebrows lift and I look at him, incredulous, then glance at both of his friends.
“You’re... trying to keep a low profile? The prince of hell?”
“Underworld,” he corrects me, testy.
“You named your private members’ club, where the most powerful people in the entire city come to party every night,Underworld? And you’re telling me you’re trying to keep a low profile so nobody knows it’s you?”
“I told you to call it the Velvet Underground,” Falcon’s low voice is irritable.
“I’m not copying some... idiot human from Los Angeles,” Hadrion snaps at him, and Shay is giving me the most amusedlook, like she wants to laugh, but doesn’t want to insult Hadrion for his short-sightedness.
“No wonder we stole fire from the gods,” I comment, and Hadrion throws his hands up in the air.
“Enough!” The word is thunderous, and he slams his hands back down onto the bar-top. The sound echoes through the empty room, and I jump, stepping back.
“Hadrion,” Shay scolds softly. He lets out a gusty breath of air and I try to calm my nerves. I’m not dealing with the neighborhood boys anymore. These are gods, real, living, breathing gods, capable of hurting me with so much as a thought. I’m sure that Hadrion, if he wanted to, could rip the pendant from me, and it would kill me, but he’d be fine even if he was injured. But he isn’t.
I wonder why not.
