Lady of the Underworld

by Skyler Andra

  “Most precious,” he murmured, “and mine.”

  On the final word, he thrust deep inside me, slowly but with absolutely no hesitation at all. My pussy twinged, but soon I opened to him, so beautifully prepared from everything we had done, perfectly ready for him. I moaned, moving against him with all the strength I had. It wasn’t much sooner after he had exhausted me, but his body responded, pushing deeper inside me with a need that left me moaning.

  He kept whispering words in my ear, some things I understood, some I didn’t. When he finally spilled inside me, I cried out with him, clenching around him as if it were the only thing in the world I cared about. Another climax of my own hovered near, but I pushed it back because I wanted this more—wanted him inside me and utterly hungry for what I could give him. The moment felt simultaneously stretched out forever and over almost too soon at the same time.

  Finally, he rolled off of me, dragging me with him in his arms.

  “Now we can rest,” I almost purred with infinite satisfaction, startling a laugh out of him.

  “You aren’t afraid of me at all, are you?” he asked with a kind of wonder in his voice.

  “If I were, I never would have agreed to let you have me for a day and a night,” I yawned, curling a little closer.

  Now that the heat of passion had dissipated somewhat, I was aware of a chill in the air. His soft laugh and the way he stroked my still-damp hair warmed me up in a way that made me smile. I wondered what his response to that would have been. But before he could string it together, I was already nodding off.

  Chapter 16

  Hades

  The moment Autumn drifted off, I stayed for some time, watching the rise of her chest, her soft exhales, and the peaceful expression on her face. Her nose was long and thin, and her lips full and luscious. So beautiful. So full of power. So unaware. I reached out to brush away the emerald hair falling over her face and stopped. No. I did not deserve her. Not when I hid secrets from her.

  As a child, I had learned the hard way to keep things to myself. To avoid punishment from my spiteful and cruel mother, who would punish me if she discovered what I had been doing. I always fought for the last scrap of bread, which she’d reserve for her older children, denying me. Each night, I’d cling to my body warmth on the cold of the floor, which she forced me to sleep on even though my brothers and sisters received soft, cozy beds.

  I had to fight to earn my father’s attention, especially when he worked long hours and oftentimes ventured on lengthy visits for business. And whenever he was home, mother played the dutiful wife, pretending to care for me. All for show, of course, out of fear of being struck or worse.

  Although I had been born into a wealthy Russian family, I’d been the accidental child, my mother already in her forties when she delivered me. The product of rape, she never wanted me and had tried several times to kill me… or so Hades had informed me. My face, she used to tell me, reminded me of what my father had done to her.

  After her initial attempts had failed, she continued her efforts to let me die, and I suffered every day of my life. She forbade the servants from feeding me or changing my soiled garments, and they, fearful of losing their income to support their own families, abandoned me.

  Were it not for my oldest sister, seventeen at the time, I would have never survived. While mother was busy entertaining guests, or sleeping with one of her various lovers, my sister would sneak to my side to care for me, to feed me, to play with me. Those had been the happiest times of my life. None of my other siblings had given me a second glance, each one poisoned by my mother’s cruel claims that I was a devil.

  I had lost my sister when I was six, and she twenty-two, to some horrible chest infection. My life had returned to the hell by which it had started. But since I’d been older, I’d also grown wiser, using the tricks my beloved sister had taught me to survive.

  When I turned eighteen, my father had employed me in his business, where I met the love of my life. A year later, we were married and moved into the marital home my father had purchased for us. My heart stung at the painful reminder of losing her.

  I did not like keeping secrets, but it had been a way of life for me. Stealing some cheese here, a blanket there, or a goblet of water out of thirst—life had not been kind to me and secrets kept me alive.

  My ability to keep them had led me straight to Hades, for the dead told plenty of them. They entrusted me with confessions of sins and regrets, which I stored away for their judgment, rehabilitation, and ultimate return to the Land of the Living in a new incarnation, once they lived out their penance or time of contemplation.

  My gaze fell to Autumn and my guilt choked me. She deserved to know what she was becoming. What she could do. Why she had been chosen. But I could not bring myself to tell her. Whenever I’d spoken the truth as a child I’d been punished, and I feared, dreaded Autumn punishing me in some form too. Or leaving me like my sister had. Leaving me to the mercy of my mother like my father had. Leaving me to the all-consuming grief like my wife and child had after they perished from an infection.

  Restless, I climbed out of the bed and paced along the long bed until the pain in my chest threatened to tear open, and I had to leave the room.

  The goddess had chosen another human to represent her, that human being Autumn. During her long period of fallow, she had only diffused small amounts of her essence into an avatar as dictated by decree from Zeus.

  Yet Autumn was different. Her powers extended well beyond those of previous avatars imbued with the magic of the springtime goddess. Every part of me ached to tell Autumn, but I did not know how to. A deep-rooted trepidation prevented me from uttering the words because she, too, might leave upon realizing what she was. I could not have that when I needed her help in collecting the souls. When I needed her by my side after being lonely for so long.

  My legs carried me through the silent halls of my palace. Servants coasted about conducting their duties—preparing my breakfast meal, fussing over the emerald dress I asked they make my guest, and maintaining order and precision in the palace just as I liked it.

  Eventually, I found myself in the garden I had made for the springtime goddess. Beds of narcissus flowers had been laid out in the geometrical pattern of the goddess in the stars above. Two back-to-back crescent moons separated by a column. The exact symbol Autumn wore on her necklace. There was no coincidence there. It stood as a symbol depicting how the goddess had selected her. Gifted to her as a small child, it represented the springtime qualities throughout her human life.

  I sat on the stone chair in the middle of the garden, running my fingertips over the top of the blossoms. Gold like the goddess’ hair, as well as white, pink, red, blue—every color of the rainbow. My chest contracted and a sharp pain cracked down my sternum. I had not visited this place in centuries. I could not bring myself to be reminded of her absence. And now, it seemed to be the only place that could bring me solace when so many thoughts crashed in my mind.

  None of the other avatars chosen by the goddess held the ability to speak to the dead, let alone see them. Something had changed. I wondered if the goddess decided to awaken and imbue more of her essence into her new avatar.

  A part of me brightened at the prospect of the Lady of the Spring, the god’s companion, returning. But another side, the human component that made up the blend of human and god, blanched at that idea. I had never loved her. For so long, my heart had belonged to the wife and child I had lost to the plague. After three lonely and haunted centuries, I had finally discovered another who warmed my stony heart, and she currently lay in my bed.

  A conundrum indeed. If the goddess were to return, that would present a difficult challenge and the strong possibility of the god unmerging with me to reunite with her. Olympus knew we needed that solution to fix the problems in the realm, the lost souls, and the winter plaguing the afterlife. But what did that mean for me? Would I return to being an empty avatar? I should have departed this world some thr
ee hundred years ago, but thanks to the god, I acquired immortality, advanced healing, and the power of the dead. Without that, I’d age and possibly wither away, ending up in the Underworld too. At least my soul could rest with my wife and child. But part of me was not ready to go just yet. I still had goals to achieve.

  “Sorry to bother you, master,” spoke a dainty voice, interrupting my thoughts. Melody, my servant.

  I tensed, refusing to look at her, choosing to admire the grey and stormy skies that had usurped the violet haze previously painting my realm.

  “Yes?” I replied, my voice hoarse, tight from the decisions ahead of me.

  “You’ve been summoned to The Crag,” she said, delivering a message from my general, the Underworldling I put in charge of managing a specific district within our realm.

  “What for?” I asked, turning to glare not at her, but for the intrusion. “I’m busy. I have a guest.”

  Truth be told, I wanted a break from dealing with the afterlife when I had so many of my own troubles to ponder. Yet the sensible part of me, the one who demanded order and balance, knew I had to address it before anything got out of hand. The Underworld required a smooth operation to prevent chaos. I would not have my realm dissolve into the disorder that Zeus ruled Olympus with.

  “Yes, I know.” Melody lifted her gaze a fraction and smiled. “It’s wonderful to see you happy again.”

  Happy. The word echoed in my mind. I hadn’t been in such a long time. The combination of the god’s and my own heartache and sorrow weighed down on me. I missed the family and friends I left behind so many lifetimes ago.

  Since Autumn entered my life, I hardly had any time to reminisce on the past. She kept me on my toes. Challenged me in ways I had not encountered in hundreds of years, and it excited and tested me.

  “I tried holding off as long as I could while you entertained the mistress,” Melody informed. “But it’s urgent.”

  Entertained. It had been centuries since I’d had a guest to the palace. Just recently I had made a deal with Charon to play chess to distract myself from long and isolated nights. Before that, I only had Melody to fuss over me.

  “It better be urgent to call me away,” I acquiesced, swiping a flower and tucking it under the brooch on my toga to remind me of the woman lying in my bed.

  “Yes, master.” Melody retreated, nodding.

  As I departed the room, footsteps tracked behind me. Small and soft.

  “Master,” she called out after me. “The mistress is… not going to leave again, is she?”

  Leave. The word hit me like a boulder to the chest. Our greatest fear. Both god and man haunted by the same event where the ones we loved exited our lives—mine in tragedy, the god’s out of necessity. In essence, we didn’t want to be alone. We craved companionship, intimacy, and loyalty. All the qualities that I had reservations about in Autumn, for she seemed a free spirit, content with her freedom, her own company. She was someone also burdened by the loss of her mother, manifesting in intimacy issues. I gathered that a relationship with anyone tended to frighten her away. Why else would a woman such as her remain a virgin? This information set a clock ticking in my mind. How long might it be until things got too much for her and she ran away, too? I could not handle that again. My doubts and fears held me back, protecting my heart, not wanting to let her, favoring an icy vigil at the first signs of rejection.

  Then, there were other issues complicating matters. Important details about what she was. If she discovered I’d hid them from her, there was a good chance she might leave. I had to be careful about the way I informed her because each person took the news of their powers differently. Previous avatars had fled from their patrons, worried that the god would take over them and irreparably change them.

  In my case, I had vanished into the woods for days after Hades first visited me, the shock of the news that I’d been chosen failing to sink in straight away. It took time to process my denial. I mean, of all the gods, the one of dead and the afterlife had picked me. What a warped proposal, coming on the heels of the death of my newborn and my wife. At first, I confused the proposal as a twisted joke. Oh, how I had raged in the forest, hacking at trees with my sword, cutting down anything that had gotten in my way. But after exhausting myself, I calmed down, giving me time to process the meeting.

  But my fears had been in vain. If anything, the power of the god enhanced avatars, made us better and stronger people. Well, for some at least, excluding that annoying agent of Hermes. Mads. Was that his name? Such disrespect. I’d like to swat him like a fly…

  I lifted both hands and snapped my fingers. In an instant, I transported myself across the realm to The Crag, a district where I housed souls guilty of singular murder, rape, perjury, corruption, theft, vandalism, and persecution. Icy winds whistled off the barren rocks encasing the horrors within. Over the peak, a wasteland absent of scenery awaited of just pure stone, all grey, dull, and lifeless.

  I glanced at the next district some miles to the east. Tartarus, where eternal pits of fire raged, was reserved for the absolutely foul, abominable, and despicable souls. Warmongers who had committed mass genocide; psychopaths so devoid of remorse they stole the savings of the poor; and those who had polluted drinking water, infected food with poisons, or loaded medicines with toxins that made the sick more ill and dependent on additional drugs.

  I climbed up the steps overlooking The Crag and glanced at the scene within. Souls writhed on the cold stone, wailing to be released. But that was not the point of this district. Each sector been set up sort of like a prison, this one equivalent to medium security, with patrols and hellhounds like Cerberus to guard it.

  “Thank you for coming, my lord.” Thaddeus, my general for The Crag, greeted me with a solemn nod. “Sorry to drag you away from your business.”

  I examined the weary lines of his forehead, the keen grey of his eyes, and the silver of his hair. An old soul who had served the god faithfully for two thousand years, with honor and integrity. One of my top generals, whom I trusted implicitly.

  “What is the problem?” I asked, straightening up, my back creaking with the weight I carried.

  “A breach, my lord,” Thaddeus explained.

  “What?” Unheard of. Not once in all my years had this ever happened. No one had ever escaped from any of my realms. The prospect of it happening made an invisible claw scratch at the back of my neck.

  “Come,” he said, turning to leave. “I will show you.”

  The burden on my shoulders amplified, and I hunched under it. Imbalance festered in my realm from the absence of the goddess. By law, she was meant to dwell in the Underworld during the winter and return to the Land of the Living in spring.

  Over the past few days I had suspected this was the reason I had not realized souls were missing from the Underworld. As part of this realm, that meant that I too was subject to the imbalance causing the slowly consuming winter that dulled my powers and senses. I pushed aside that thought to focus on the task at hand, however.

  We walked a few hundred meters to a fissure in the rock, as if split by the effect of an earthquake. Impossible. The Underworld existed in another realm separate from the physical and did not suffer the movements of the Earth.

  I ran a shaky finger along the jagged edge just wide enough for a human body of medium size to squeeze through. “How did this happen?”

  My gaze jumped between my general and the crack. I wanted answers. I wanted a solution. I wanted order when lately all I’d gotten was chaos.

  “We don’t know, my lord,” he replied, his voice hesitant and wary.

  Long ago the god had a temper. Right after the springtime goddess had gone fallow, he’d blamed himself, loathed himself, and had taken it out on everyone. What a horrible century that had been. I tried to bury it, but my faithful servants never forgot, even if I was a later date avatar.

  “Did any souls escape?” I asked, turning back to my general, whose thinned lips were all the answer I needed.<
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  Thaddeus bowed his head. “Eight so far, my lord.”

  Almighty Olympus.

  A vein in my forehead pulsed with blood. It would take days to weeks to track each one down and bring them back to the Underworld. Days I did not have when I still had to retrieve the souls who hadn’t arrived in the afterlife. My mind spun with conflicting problems, each one a priority, each one pressing at me to be solved. I did not know which one to tackle first. An ache formed in my forehead and I rubbed it, drawing in a slow and steady breath to calm myself.

  Think, Hades, think.

  First order: Collect the stray souls who had failed to turn up in the Underworld. After all, I had gone to the trouble of hiring Autumn to help me, and I could not leave her to find the souls herself. That was too dangerous, especially after the boy had tried to kill her and take her with him. No. We would continue on that mission together until every last soul was accounted for. That way, I could ensure her safety.

  As for the escaped souls, I refused to forsake any of my generals to the needed searches at the risk of the districts falling into further disarray. I needed an alternative in that regard. Someone to track down the escapees and alert me to their whereabouts so that I could gather them myself. Oh, how I would punish those souls for fleeing. Their insolence and audacity. Straight to the Tartarus with them!

  I stared deep and hard into Thaddeus’ eyes and he winced at my flinty gaze.

  “Send the hellhounds to find them,” I ordered with a careful and controlled tone. “Do not let the beasts return without accounting for every last one of the escaped souls. Tell them to send word when they have tracked them. I want to personally collect them.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Thaddeus nodded and retreated deeper into The Crag, drifting straight through the rocky face into the depths below, where we stored the hellhounds.