by Eileen Glass
Contents
Title Page
© Eileen Glass
About This Book
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Forty-Four
Forty-Five
Forty-Six
Forty-Seven
Forty-Eight
Forty-Nine
Fifty
Fifty-One
Fifty-Two
Fifty-Three
Fifty-Four
Fifty-Five
Fifty-Six
Fifty-Seven
Fifty-Eight
Fifty-Nine
Sixty
Sixty-One
Sixty-Two
Sixty-Three
Sixty-Four
Sixty-Five
Sixty-Six
Sixty-Seven
Sixty-Eight
Sixty-Nine
Seventy
Author's Note
Omega Society Auction Preview
Hades
&
Seph
EILEEN GLASS
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior permission of the author.
© Eileen Glass
www.eileenglass.com
About This Book
The underworld needs a king.
Another one.
Seph's family is kind of messed up. His grandfather ate his parents. His father has scores of illegitimate children. His mother grows into a giant when she gets angry—right into the skies!
And all Seph wants to do is get away and be on his own for once. He wants to grow up, which is such a simple thing for mortal men and all the other creatures to do. But when you're the child of Demeter, Goddess of the Harvest, and Zeus, Ruler of Mount Olympus?
Seph is tired of being treated like a child. It's time to leave.
But due to the sparring of his cousins over him, Zeus has decided to marry him off. ‘Disagreements amongst gods cause chaos for mortals,’ he says. All of this because Seph was caught kissing a boy.
Well, nothing will happen at Demeter’s villa.
Literally, nothing. It's run by a bunch of nymphs, who are all women.
All Seph wants to do is find a man like himself so they can explore the world together. But with his mother guarding him and his cousins causing trouble, Seph will have to go on being the 'baby boy' unless he wants his father to marry him to someone awful.
From a chasm in the earth, a dark figure emerges…
One
Seph huddles in his bedroom closet, listening to his mother’s voice crash against the floorboards, booming underneath him, brimming with the strength of an angry goddess who must be obeyed.
“What do the perversions of two incestuous cousins have to do with the virginity of my son?!”
The man’s answering voice, while calmer and almost soothing, holds as much power as hers. It is a harmless, even jovial voice that promises a formidable will if you wrong the man who speaks.
“Four cousins. Apollo and Eros are also asking for him now. I must set up the games for a proper courtship. He’s too beautiful, so they say, and his cousins are starting to spar amongst themselves.”
“My son will not choose one of those lice-infested barn animals!”
“Demeter. Discontent from the gods causes chaos in the lives of mortals. And you are the caretaker of many such lives. This disturbance is aimed directly at you and my son. That is why I’m so concerned. It is best—”
“You do not get to play the role of father now!”
Something crashes. Seph imagines it’s one of the large vases sitting on the floor in the entryway. Not a suitable thing to heft and throw, but an eight-foot goddess requires a sizable object to hurl at her ex-lover.
Demeter grows bigger as she gets angrier.
Zeus replies with a hint of sighing impatience, “You have not let me get to know the boy. That was not my choice—”
His mother’s roar, so loud the house supports must rattle, startles Hibus, the white rabbit in Seph’s arms.
“You are not his! And you are not mine! And you have nothing to do with this family! I have made this clear.”
“Shhh, Hibus,” Seph whispers, stroking over the bunny’s head and down his long ears, across his back. The rabbit squirms once, afraid, but then trustingly stills. His little heart hammers against Seph’s arm, which cradles him under his body, against Seph’s chest.
And his father responds with that same calm tone, the slightest perceptible frustration giving it that deep mysterious power.
“I am the boy’s father, Demeter. No matter the distance of where I’ve been, or the fact that you’ve shut me out, I am his father, and I care for you both—”
“You are a scoundrel! A liar! A play actor and a dirty dog! You couldn’t be the father of anything, even if your seed is fertile! You don’t have the heart. You don’t even know what it is!”
Seph holds his breath, fearful for his mother.
She has had this rant many times. All it takes is a curious question or two from him, spoken when he was very young, for Seph learned long ago that he doesn’t have a father. And he never will. It is an undeniable, absolutely irrefutable fact.
That is, according to the goddess who just called Zeus a dog.
“He is mine, Demeter!” At last, that anger shows. But even in this, it is quiet. When the God of Storms truly rages, you will know. This is only a darkened sky on what should be a clear day. The sign of a warning. “And I am the King of Gods, or have you forgotten?”
“You are the King of Mount Olympus,” his mother corrects. “And that is where you belong, beside your jealous wife, Hera. Or did you forget?”
“I am the one who looks after all of you—” he starts to reply. But his mother isn’t done.
“And you are some special kind of ass to be down here talking to my face about ‘chaos amongst mortals’, you dingy old street mutt. How much time do you spend on Mount Olympus, Zeus, hm? How much time a year do you spend overseeing that kingdom you claim to run?”
The powerful voice gives in to petty squabbling. But it is different than his mother’s fury. More like the great god of gods is enjoying strong wine and suffering the ribbing of good friends.
“What am I, Demeter? An ass or a dog? That is two animals in one sentence, unless you mean I am the ass of a dog, which would have been far more creative. You may use it if you like.”
“You are all of that!”
Something wooden creaks. Either his mother’s great weight is breaking the floor, or her head has finally bent against the high ceiling, and she is growing into the shape of the room. She must be huge now.
“All the things that are slimy and wicked and de
void of any kindness or positive, real emotion! You are a creature of lust, Zeus. It is the only thing you’ve felt since you killed our father.”
“Oh my gods, here we go again…”
“Hah! You use the mortals’ swears. That is how long you’re gone, Zeus. Every year. Creating chaos for mortals. So don’t come at me thinking you have some kind of authority to marry off my son!”
“Our son.”
“Get out! Get out, get out, get out—!”
A number of things break. A housemaid downstairs shrieks. She will not be underfoot amongst the quarreling immortals, so it must be the sight of precious pottery pummeled against the walls that frightens her.
The door opens, heavy footsteps descend the steps outside, and Seph looks up from sweet Hibus, who must trust him very much not to run off in all this clashing and yelling. He only sees the back of his dark closet door, but he imagines the balcony overlooking the front steps. It is not so far.
He has never seen his father before.
“Will you tear up the pillars and hurl them too?” The strong voice is getting angry, but that doesn’t change Seph’s mind. Surely he should see his father one time? The father he doesn’t have according to the furious Demeter.
He doesn’t know anything about Zeus except that he’s a ‘dirty dog who humps anything in heat’. And ‘he’s not your father’. And ‘he doesn’t feel anything, Seph. He’s hollow inside. He looks beautiful, and happy, and if you met him, you’d love him. But he’s like… the shadow of a man. Or, a creature pretending to be a man. He doesn’t love. Not like you or I. He doesn’t care for the girls he loves, or how he twists them up inside. He’s perpetually bored. And he’s extremely dangerous.’
Seph sets Hibus aside. “Shh,” he tells him, as though the rabbit is upset. And then he crawls, quickly, for standing up would let the god Zeus see him from a window. ‘Stay down. Stay out of sight.’ Those are the rules for those few times when Zeus comes to visit. And ‘that monster is not your father.’
He knows it’s the truth. He’s not expecting his father to be any better than the monster she described. But he has heard other things from the townspeople and the servants and slaves and all the mortals who help them here on their land.
Zeus is beautiful. Like an enormous statue, an artist’s perfect vision of a man, but better. Incapturable. Seph has seen the statue of Zeus in the center of town. His mother idly told him that even the best mortal hands cannot sculpt his features.
No matter how evil she tells him he is, his mother has never argued against his form.
And Seph would like to see it. Just once. Just quickly.
Like a thief, he sneaks through his own house, bent over, his bare feet moving fast. He goes into the upstairs hall and looks over the railing at the pottery scattered below, pretty flowers strewn about like ruined maidens in a pillaging. His house looks ransacked. And if the goddess had stayed here, she would have grown up to the ceiling and eventually exploded out of the roof.
If Zeus still remained, she would have to shake the house off her foot like a dirty sandal.
But the god is smartly leaving before a small war is waged.
A small war for them. A catastrophe for mortals. The entire countryside and the large town nearby would be obliterated.
Seph sneaks to the lightly billowing curtains on the front balcony and huddles inside them. He creeps ever so closer, ever so carefully, to the balcony’s edge. The figure through the gauzy haze is just as Seph heard from the villagers. Bronze. Tall. Muscular. Thick, curly hair. Gorgeous locks. People go on for a while about his hair and the matching beautiful beard on a young but manly broad-boned face.
The back of his head does not disappoint. His hair is indeed curled and soft looking. It falls past his shoulders and ends in a straight line, like the edge of a rug. Seph imagines that petting it would be like setting his hand on the sheep skin in front of his mother’s bedroom fire.
Though his back is mostly covered by draping cloth, his form also does not disappoint. Even his ankles are perfectly sculpted, like they belong to a marble statue. His sandals look better because his feet are in them.
And the shape of his backside?
The set of his hips, how they slant from one leg to the other with his walking gait?
Why…
Frowning, Seph ducks. That is his father. But it is true what they say. He looks beautiful. And Seph remembers another thing his mother said to him once.
‘If he were to see you, he would want you, and you would want him. There is nothing I can do to stop that. You wouldn’t discover his true nature until it was too late, my sweet boy.’
Seph believes her. And so it is a good thing his eyes lower just as that head was turning back to speak to his mother. He is curious. But it is not worth it.
“Marry him, Demeter. Do it yourself or I will choose for you. Everyone who sees him says he’s the reflection of me. And a quarrel is starting over him. I won’t let this go on much longer.”
“Go back to Mount Olympus. I am the Goddess of this Earth!”
“You're the goddess of the things that grow in it,” he corrects. “And that is my son. I have the right to marry him. And I will.”
“Get out!”
“I will, Demeter. That is your last warning.”
Two
Seph crawls back to his closet as quickly as he can, knowing the first place his mother will return is to where her boy is hidden. His father has tried to visit before, when he was small. He only just gets the closet door swung into position, and Hibus in his lap, when his bedroom door bursts open and heavy gigantic footsteps test the strength of the floor.
“Persephone, get out of there, I know you weren’t hiding.”
“Y-yes, mother.”
Cringing, he sets Hibus aside. But not before lifting one pink ear and whispering, “Stay here.”
It is a normal rabbit who cannot understand him. His mother has reminded him many times. Yet Seph would swear Hibus is smarter and friendlier than all other rabbits.
He crawls out of the closet, and his mother is enormous. Towering. But small enough to keep her head high under the ceiling still. Seph hates being in trouble. To visibly watch his mother’s anger transform her from the normal, kind-looking woman into an angry giant is upsetting. But she has never whipped him. It is only her voice he winces from as he stands in her shadow, his head only coming up to her elbow.
“What did you think you were doing, coming outside dangerously like that? Do you know what could have happened to you? Do you?”
Her hand is larger than his head and grabs his arm suddenly, tightly. Thanks to god magic, her bangle bracelets have grown with her, and they rattle, large enough to be crowns on his head.
“Do you know what Zeus would have done if he had seen you?”
He is called Zeus. Or dirty dog. Not father.
“H-he would have kept me,” Seph answers. He is taller than his mother in her normal form. He has been quite proud of this fact, and he is taller than all the boys in the mortal village too. But now he is like a toddler again looking up at his mother, and in god terms, that’s exactly what he is, no matter how his physical form appears.
Gods can be fully formed when they’re born. If they detect a need of it. Seph has wished he could physically change his age or grow taller with emotion. But he is a very weak god, barely having more power than a nymph.
He was born a baby and he grows as a mortal would.
“He would have kept you, and he would have raped you, Persephone.”
Seph hates when she uses that word. He knows what comes next…
“Just like he raped me. All those years ago. I’m grateful for you, my baby boy…” She pets his hair and leans close like she’s cooing at a mouse trapped in her hand. “But your father—no, he isn’t your father. Zeus is a dirty dog. A rapist. A pillager. Baby boy, he would have had you on the end of his cock, because the man has no morals—”
“Mom!” Seph yells and p
ulls at her hand. He doesn’t want to hear words like that, not from her. And what she’s talking about is disgusting.
“No, you need to hear this! He would want you, baby boy, and he would have you. And then Hera—”
“Stop! Stop!” She finally lets him go. She lets him go, as he fights for it, because she lets him feel like a fully-formed god. Not her equal, but someone who could have power.
“And don’t call me baby anymore! Ugh. You know I don’t like that!”
Seph moves away from her, but there’s not very far to go in this room she’s occupying.
She yells at him, her hands on her hips. And Seph’s neck shrinks into his shoulders, wincing like he used to when he was very little.
“My sister Hera would murder you, Persephone! Or curse you, if she thought Zeus actually cared a shred. If not for her, I might let him have you!” She gestures wildly, her voice taking on that perilous tone of a mother on a piteous rampage. “If that’s the worst that could happen to you, and you wanted it, I wouldn’t care! I’d let you find out what a monster he is, like I did. The man is nothing but the life and legs for a dick and testicles!”
“Ughhhh. Mother.”
Make it stop.
But alas, when she gets like this, the only thing he can do is wait and listen. Running will only make her catch him, make her angrier, and make her yell a lot more.
But if I was a real god…
He loves his mother. Most of the time, on a normal day, Seph would say his life is as perfect as it could be. There are only sometimes, like now, he wishes he had the power to getaway from her. And to stay away. And to only come back when he wanted, as equals.
“But it’s our sister, Hera…” Now she shakes her finger at him. It’s enormous, like a heavy stick, and her sharp nail is bigger than his eye. “It’s what he does to her, you see. He’s turned her into a monster! He makes her drunk on his love, which he only pretends to have, and then he leaves her without the drink. To go crazy for months. And she gets crazier the longer she’s without him. Both of those two are dangerous.”
She grabs him by the shoulders. The weight of it is like walking into a door frame.
But this will be the end of her yelling. It was a short lecture, thank the gods.