by Jamie Wyman
Staggering, starving, and thirsty enough to drink Lake Mead, I finally arrived at the base of the tower. A colonnade stretched before me boasting statues of marble, bronze, and obsidian. Titanic creatures frozen in the throes of battle. Lovers caught in a final embrace. The statues radiated with an icy, slimy power.
As I reached the end of the colonnade, the green mist dispersed and the gray earth shifted. Silvery tendrils wafted up from the ground with sinuous grace. Earth and air merged to form blocky shapes that divided and grew. A head. A large, beastly body. Soon, four paws stamped at the ground and three canine heads tossed and snorted. Thick ropy tails whipped and lashed behind its enormous bulk. One of its eyes opened—acid-green sclera with black irises—and fixed me with malevolent curiosity.
“Why do you seek the Lord of the Dead?” Cerberus asked. Its gravelly voice echoed queerly—high then low—before dissipating.
“He has something I want. I’ve come to bargain with Hades for the life of another.”
“Do you intend to cheat him as you have already cheated death, mage? For if this is your plan, I assure you it will end with naught but your pain.”
I shook my head. “I play fair, puppy.”
Cerberus snarled. In tandem, all three heads tilted to regard me with cynical disdain. “Then herein lies your first mistake: you labor under the delusion that this is but a game.”
Chastened, I folded my hands and bowed my head. “I mean no disrespect.”
From above came an unctuous laugh. “I suppose there is a first time for everything, isn’t there, mage?”
I looked up. Someone stood at a window high in the tower. From this distance, however, he was little more than a silhouette.
“Master,” Cerberus rumbled. “Shall we make quick work of her?”
“No,” the voice called. “I’ve been expecting such a visit. Send her up so that I might humor her.”
The shadow retreated from the window, leaving me to stew in embarrassment. Cerberus lowered all three heads to glare at me. Its fetid breath—rank with the scent of decay and blood—stirred the mist and dust as it plumed out of all those nostrils.
“Pity,” the dog growled. “I’d hoped to snap your neck between my jaws.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” I lied.
“Play your game. Perhaps there will yet be time.”
With a sucking vortex, the earth inhaled and Cerberus melted back into the stone. A portal in the seamless tower opened, and green light flickered there. While it brought to mind a merry fire crackling in a hearth, I also thought of dungeons and pits hungry for the wails of prisoners.
“It puts the lotion on its skin,” I murmured to myself. Resolve steeled, mind focused on the job I had to do, I stepped into Hades’s tower.
I found myself in a small, circular chamber with little more than the torches on the walls and the beginnings of a spiral staircase. I thought I saw the shapes of contorted faces screaming in the green flames, but they flickered out of sight as the fire burned.
“Come, come,” Hades sang, his voice ringing down the stairs.
I started the climb, one foot staggering in front of the other. Up, up, up the winding steps. My weary head soon started spinning, dizzy from fatigue and the constant circles. Somewhere along the line, I started muttering bitter epithets to myself.
“Couldn’t possibly foot the bill to upgrade this place and get, oh, I don’t know, an escalator or something? Oh, no, let’s make the short chick walk all the way across the damn barren wastelands of Tatooine and send her up the world’s worst staircase. Fucking bastard gods.”
Bracing my hands on the narrow walls, I kept on climbing. I sincerely hoped that the way out of Hades would be something simple. Like teleporting Heph’s way. Or at the very least, a slide.
After a while, Hades said, “It’s not often that I get to entertain a vassal of Asgard. Shall I make you feel more at home, mage?”
The god laughed and an arctic wind tore through the corridor. The light guttered and dimmed, some of the torches going out altogether. Beneath my fingers, frost formed on the walls. Within a matter of minutes, a thick layer of ice covered the stairs. Each step I took had to be a carefully controlled movement coordinating hands and feet on the slick surfaces, managing joints that creaked and locked. Any moment I could lose my precarious hold on the wall or my shoes could slip out from under me and I’d fall. I could just imagine tumbling all the way down the winding staircase. Or maybe I’d pitch forward and bust my chin on the rocky steps. Fun.
I stopped at one of the few remaining torches and hugged myself for warmth. Quaking with the cold, I brought my face as near to the torchlight as I could without sacrificing my balance. But it was useless. The fire gave off no heat.
I hate gods. And shit like this is precisely why.
My breath a dense fog, I managed to stammer, “Y-y-you do r-r-r-realize that I’m f-f-f-f-from Vegas, right?”
“And?” Hades asked.
“Cold and I d-d-don’t exactly get along.”
“Is this difficult for you, mage?”
“Now that you mention it,” I said with a sharp burst of laughter.
The god’s voice echoed in the chamber. “Oh, how inconsiderate of me.”
The staircase grumbled as the stones began to shift. Before I could slip and go tumbling down the stairs, I grabbed onto the bracket holding the torch over my head. Not a moment too soon, either. The whole tower swirled with nauseating speed. I tightened my grip, and my dry skin split and bled, chafed by the bitter wind. Faster and faster, the demonic pace threatened to wrench me loose of the wall and send me flying into orbit.
Closing my eyes to ward off the emerald strobe of the torchlight didn’t do me any favors. The darkness behind my eyelids wavered with phantom shadows and shapes, ghostly images that quivered. Pressure mounted and my ears ached, skull throbbing and warping like a supercharged subwoofer.
I screamed. A piercing, sandpapery warble that matched pitch with the roaring wind. Numb fingers slipping, I lost my grip on the torch. As I crumpled to the stairs, the hellish carousel stopped. My eyes snapped open just in time to see the wall dissolve into another green portal. Momentum propelled me through the door, and I landed face-first on a polished marble floor. Pain streaked through my jaw with enough force to rattle teeth loose and send blood flowing into my mouth.
At last, something warm to drink, I thought darkly.
“Oh,” came Hades’s soft voice. “Oh, dear me. Oh my. I’ve gone and offended. This won’t do at all. Not at all.”
Gray, spindly fingers wound around my wrist, my shoulders and guided me to my feet. My head still throbbed and my eyes refused to focus. The world was little more than a gray-green blur. Wraiths sent wispy, black tendrils snaking into my peripheral vision, but if I tried to get a fix on them, those shadows disappeared. Always there, just out of sight.
The scent of flowers wafted to me as a figure approached. He reeked of them. Nothing so sweet as roses or as calming as honeysuckle. No, he smelled pungent and spicy. Like lilies. Stargazer lilies. I wrinkled my nose. That was the scent of mothballs, caskets, and wax. Grease paint and polyester. The wretched stink of stargazer lilies and every funeral I’d ever attended.
My gorge rose. I swallowed blood around my swollen tongue.
“Please, mage, let me show you my hospitality,” Hades cooed.
With his gentle prodding, I shuffled forward. My vision clearing, I saw that I’d reached the flat top of the tower. At the center of the massive stone disc, a green bonfire blazed with traces of silver and ebony. Faces twisted there, distorted by the dancing of the flames.
As I came back to myself, I took in the view. From here I could see the whole of Hades. Those lush mountains. The crags. The ashen city. Nothing stood taller than this spot. Nothing but the Lord of Death himself.
Hades glided past me with a preternatural grace, his back to me. He wore black robes. The sleeves were trimmed with gold, as was the hem dragging along the grou
nd. His blond hair was cropped short against his scalp, and his skin was the exact shade of gray as a tombstone. His neck was too long and bowed forward, almost as if the weight of his head was too much for his spine to bear.
“Go on, mage,” he said, not bothering to look at me. He gave a dismissive wave. “Partake. Warm yourself.”
A new scent called to me. The scent of spiced tea, warmth, and solace. I looked down to find a table next to me that I swore hadn’t been there a moment ago. A beautifully crafted obsidian mug of chai was steaming before me, begging me to indulge. All manner of treats—from cookies to small red velvet cupcakes—lay on platters. There was even a bowl of piping hot tomato soup.
Comfort food.
My stomach growled, and my mouth watered. I knew that if I could just have one spoonful of that soup, I’d be full and warm. Satisfied. I’d have my strength back to meet whatever lay ahead.
As I reached for the spoon, Charon’s warning speared through me with a jolt: Drink nothing…Eat of no tree or plate put before you.
Whimpering softly, I heeded the Ferryman’s word. “Thank you, but no.”
Hades eyed me over his shoulder, showing me the barest hint of his features. His was a profile that could’ve sliced through bone. His too-long nose threatened to meet the tip of his Wicked Witch chin. Leveling me with an arch stare, he asked, “No?”
I fumbled for something to say that wouldn’t get me chucked off the building. “Y-your audience is hospitality enough,” I stammered. With a light bow I added. “Thank you, Lord Hades, for admitting me.”
His smile hooked up into a sated sneer. “You can be taught. How adorable.”
I simmered at his patronizing bullshit but kept my mouth shut. I got the feeling that Hades was all about propriety and manners in some sick and twisted fashion. If playing it up for him got me what I needed, so be it.
Crooking a finger, he beckoned me to follow him. We had reached the opposite side of the fire when he stopped. With a flourish of his robes, he whirled around and sat on a blocky, marble throne. Now, here, I saw Hades properly. With his hawkish, angular features and sickly pallor, the Lord of the Dead reminded me of Eris. Like my former mistress, Hades’s lines were all sharp and jagged. From the hooked nose and thin line of the mouth, to the bony elbows and long hands, the resemblance was striking. This realization didn’t exactly endear him to me.
Unlike Discord, however, there was a decidedly insectoid air about Hades. Though his body was swathed in black robes, the fabric hung in such a way as to accentuate his skeletal form. His head, it appeared, was too large for the rest of his emaciated body. But like a wasp, this fragility could only be a clever ruse. Hades hid his sting, but I did not doubt his lethality.
He perched in his seat almost delicately, as a spider does in its web. With a subtle, featherlight drumming of those skinny fingers, he caressed the marble arms of his throne.
“Now,” he purred, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, mage?”
Oh shit. Here we go…
Chapter Thirty
“Bound Away”
My stomach churned with trepidation. I hadn’t exactly thought about how to approach Hades once I got in the door. How did the myths go? What was I supposed to say here? My thoughts were still thawing out as I searched the floor for help.
“You told my guardian that I have something you want,” Hades said. “That you are here to bargain for a life.”
“Yes,” I replied. I straightened, stringing together what wits I could and tying them with all the reverence an atheist could possibly show to a god. “Marius. A satyr. Son of Llyr, who is himself the son of Pan.”
The thin line of Hades’s mouth spread into a torn smile as he steepled his fingers. “I see. And what is it you will offer me in exchange for his pathetic life?”
I held out the cuff bracelet. “This is god forged, from Hephaestus himself.”
“Trinkets?” Hades scoffed with a dismissive wave. “If I want something of the Blacksmith, I need only beckon him to my side. What else do you have?”
Well shit. If he wouldn’t take the cuff, he wouldn’t take the puzzle box, either. Not that I particularly wanted to part with any of these things, but it was all I could offer. I searched the barren space of Hades’s tower, looking for some sort of hint, a clue that might help me figure out what I could possibly give to the Lord of the Dead.
Glancing at the delicacies he’d laid out for me, my stomach grumbled. “My hospitality,” I said cheekily.
“And what, precisely, is that worth? The hospitality of a mortal?”
“I would be in your debt, Hades. And I’m damn good at what I do. You can ask Eris or Loki.”
Hades curdled at the mention of these names. “A word of advice, mage: these outcasts are not references you wish to list on your résumé. Their names are no better than mud, and yours is sullied the longer you keep such company. Pity, really.”
“Does my reputation precede me?”
“You do not come here unknown to me, mage. I’ve heard your name whispered in the halls of Olympus. It drips from the tongues of demons and echoes in the screams of angels. Well,” he chuffed, his leer wicked, “at least one.”
My belly rolled at the memory of an angel, tarnished and burned—Nate. I’d failed him. I snarled, angry that Hades would use that against me. Fists clenching, my knuckles went white. “What’s your point?”
“My point is that you, Catherine Sharp, are a very popular girl with very risky prospects.”
“Oh goody,” I said, clapping my hands twice. “So nice to know that I’m the belle of the fucking ball.”
“Now, now.” He lifted a single finger—and his nose—in warning. “You begin to forget yourself. Mind this waspish tongue of yours before it gets you into trouble.”
I blew a lock of hair out of my face and let my eyes drift to the shadows beyond Hades’s throne. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“But it could very easily be the last.” He rose and crossed to the fire. He held out a delicate finger and stroked the lithe flames. In the twisting images there, I saw my face. And Belial’s. I saw my final moments play out.
“You’ve already escaped death once this week,” he said slowly. “Do you wish to try my patience? To test me? See if you can repeat your little parlor trick?”
Sobered, I shook my head. I folded my hands in front of me and bowed a fraction of an inch. “Not particularly.”
“Good. Now let us focus.”
With a flick of his skeletal wrist, the flames guttered. Though the thick, green glow remained, the fire itself was gone. In the gelatinous light hovered a figure, spinning slowly on an unseen axis. Obscured though he was by the eerie luminance, I’d recognize Marius anywhere.
He’d been stripped. Without so much as a stitch of clothing or a breath of his glamour, Marius was suspended in his natural satyr form. The dark fur was matted at his hips and thighs. I saw all too clearly the lashes on his back. As he turned, the wounds from the hellhound’s paws became visible. The beast had punctured his chest, gouged troughs through the stayr’s rib cage. My eyes tracked upward, and as I looked at what had been done to his throat, I barked a mournful noise.
“This is why you’re here, mage. Is it not?”
I closed my eyes, holding back tears. I counted long breaths. Emotion wouldn’t save him. Sentiment would not sway the Lord of the Dead. I hardened my heart with ice in hopes that I could remain indifferent.
Yeah right.
When I looked up, Marius’s face was in full view. Our eyes met through the fog of verdant light. Though I heard nothing, his lips formed the unmistakable shape of my name.
With a fluttery warmth, I passed Marius a sad smile. He could see me. He knew me. Whatever had happened after that wave had taken Marius away, he was still here. I could work with that.
“Here he is, mage. Your prize,” Hades said with a note of disgust. “Now tell me what you offer in exchange for his pitiful life.”
&nbs
p; Marius’s eyes grew large with panic. No, he mouthed to me.
I raised an eyebrow at Marius. Did he really think I would leave him here? Fat fucking chance.
Without taking my eyes off my satyr, I asked Hades, “What could I possibly get for the man who has everything?”
“That isn’t the question, is it? No. The question is what are you willing to part with?”
As if weighing a slew of options—which I most certainly didn’t have—I thumped the bracelet in my palm. I had to stall Hades while I drummed up a plan to get Marius out of here.
“Well,” I said, “you already know that my soul isn’t mine to give.”
“For now,” Hades purred. “But things can change quickly. That you well know.”
If I could reach through the queer, green light, maybe I could yank Marius back and we could run. But I wasn’t stupid enough to think that Hades would let us get very far.
“You don’t want my life,” I said, stating the obvious.
“Don’t I? A life for a life is the typical exchange.”
“If that’s what you wanted, you would’ve demanded it by now.”
Hades’s face split into a smile. “She’s bright! Bright as a star among the dimness of mortality. You are correct,” he said as he pranced toward me, a slight swagger in his step. “I don’t care for dealing with lives or souls. Not today.”
“Then what?” I kept my voice chilly and hard. “You’ve obviously got your eye set on some prize where I’m concerned, but you’re playing a coy game. What is it that you need for me to offer that you can’t just take?”
This soured him. The Olympian’s eyes darkened and his already-pale skin blanched. Creases formed between his brows. “Manners, Catherine,” he warned.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, come on. Your little pet down there got all ominous and foreboding, told me that this wasn’t a game, but you’ve done nothing but try to make me dance.”
“Poppet,” he snarled through his teeth, “do remember your station and behave properly, or I shall take offense. Then what will you have, hmm?”
Hades snapped a finger. Marius’s body bowed, stretched back in agony. Every muscle in his body was tight as a drumhead. Veins bulged in his arms, his torn throat, and at his temples. Though I couldn’t hear them, his screams echoed through my blood.