by Jasmine Walt
I didn’t even notice the hooded man come in. I doubt it escaped my dad though—he was a cop before me, and even though he was off-duty, he was still committed to protecting everyone. The man was tall, in his mid-twenties, scruffy-looking, and strung out on drugs. I only know this because I had to identify him in a line-up later.
It all happened so quickly. One minute, Dad and I were by the freezer, and in the next, someone was shouting for everyone to get down on the floor. Gunfire rang out. Screams filled the store.
After forcing me to the ground, he’d whispered into my ear, “Stay put.”
Those were the last words he ever said to me.
I heard the soles of his department issued shoes striking the tile floor. Clack, clack.
“Put the gun down.” Dad’s voice was calm, carefully modulated.
“I’ll kill you,” the robber had snarled.
The high-pitched wail of police sirens sounded in the parking lot. The convenience store clerk must have pressed some sort of alarm. Regardless, the robber fired. Three gun shots, one to the head, two the chest, and my dad dropped to the floor. The robber ran out the back, where police officers arrested him.
Later, they said the man had done it because he wanted drug money.
A high. My dad was gone over a fifteen-minute high.
I’ve spent the last eighteen years blaming myself because I’d wanted a stupid bottle of juice.
I haven’t tasted juice since. Never will. It’s a promise I made to myself.
After his death, I went through a very dark period in my life. I was the reason why my father wasn’t in our lives any more. I was the reason why my mother cried every night. I was the reason why I was growing up without my father.
I retreated into myself. Mom put me into therapy, which didn’t help either. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, I got angry easily, and I lashed out against everyone. It wouldn’t bring Dad back, but anger was the only thing I could feel.
It was like that for two years. I had gotten kicked out of one middle school for fighting, and I was hanging on by a thread at my new one. My mother was at wit’s end, and maybe that’s why she’d asked Carl to talk to me.
Carl was Dad’s old partner. After Dad’s death, he’d been assigned a new partner, but he still stuck around my mother and I, like the uncle I’d never had. If Carl couldn’t get through to me, no one could.
He’d taken me to the park, bought me a cone of cookie dough ice cream. Side by side on a bench, he’d put one arm around me.
“He wouldn’t have wanted you to be angry like this. Continue down this path and you’ll wind up like the perp who killed him: angry, frustrated and looking for a way out.”
It struck a nerve deep inside me.
“I don’t know what to do,” I’d told him as the tears fell freely and plopped onto my forgotten ice cream cone.
Carl pulled me into his chest and wrapped his arms around me. “Maybe you should work towards putting people like the man who murdered James behind bars.”
Something clicked.
It wasn’t an overnight transition. I had a lot of emotional baggage to shake off. I worked at it. I knew then what I was going to do with my life. I threw myself at the one objective that mattered: I was going to be a homicide detective, and I was going to stop bad people from hurting good people.
The lines were drawn and I was going to be one of the good guys.
There are plenty of ways a person can become a police detective. As Hades had pointed out, I went to the University of Pennsylvania and studied criminal justice. I utilized every scholarship I could scrounge up to afford the tuition. There was one for being tall. There was one for being part Greek. There was even one for being both tall and Greek. I graduated at the top of my class, then I followed my friend, Aimee, to San Francisco, where I joined the police force. Two years later, I became a detective.
I was really good at my job. The news is always blasting those police procedural dramas because they’re unrealistic in the amount of time it takes to solve a murder. I’ve matched those times on some of the harder cases. More than once, I’ve scared myself. I've been worried that I was borderline psychotic, that there was something wrong with me that enabled me to quickly piece the crime together, to understand some of the things I’ve seen. And I’ve seen some sick things.
It didn’t hurt that I lived and breathed my job. I had very few friends apart from Aimee and my partner, Dion Stubbins. I worked at least eighty hour weeks. Usually it was more.
“You’re working yourself to death, Callie,” Dion would tell me, his thick Chicago accent never failing to make me smile. He was a veteran detective in his mid-50’s with the whole porn star mustache, beer gut and everything. A badge-toting stereotype. He was a great foil to my serious determination. While I was staying late reviewing cases, he'd go out drinking with his friends. Dion loved his booze.
I knew I was working too much. But there were so many crimes to solve, so many lives to save. I had taken on huge projects. I was addicted to work.
I couldn’t stop. If I did, maybe the bad guys would win and I wasn’t going to let that happen. Not on my watch.
My job, or at least my addiction to it, was the major reason Ben and I broke up. I was a workaholic; I was more committed to my job than I was to him. I made the mistake of admitting it to him. I chose my job over my love life.
I’d spent the last few weeks beating myself up over it but now I realized I’d made the right decision.
My detective skills were going to save my life.
“Let’s get started,” I said to Hades. “The faster I can get back to my life, the better.”
He smiled, revealing perfectly spaced white teeth. “On that we can agree.”
One of his aides, Alecto, a slim, green-skinned girl, brought me my own password-protected tablet. Hades threatened me within an inch of my fragile life to not lose the tablet with all of the classified information about the case.
“How did the assassination attempt happen?” I asked.
I watched Hades’ knuckles and his demeanor while he answered. Body language reveals more than words ever do and even though the god seemed like some sort of rich snob, I was quite surprised to see how much he cared about his son.
“We have our servants sample our food before eating it,” he explained. “Being a god— especially our family—you make a lot of enemies. A houseboy died mysteriously after sampling Plutus’ meal six weeks ago, and an assassin tried to kill Plutus shortly afterward.” He paused. “The assassin didn't leave relevant information before it expired.”
A thousand questions swirled in my mind. One thing at a time, Callie, I reminded myself. I swallowed nervously. “Expired?”
“It disappeared.”
“Couldn’t you just...interrogate the spirit of the assassin? You're the God of the Dead, after all.”
“Underworld,” Hades corrected, like I should know the difference. “And not these assassins,” he added bitterly. “Whoever is trying to kill Plutus is smart. They know to use a Shadow Assassin. These conjured spirits have the souls of the freshly dead, so they're confused and don't know what happened to them. Think of it as a curse.”
“Oh,” I said. Like that made sense to me. “Why would someone want to kill your son?”
Hades allowed a small smile. “You have no idea what kind of god Plutus is, do you?”
I shook my head. “So...he is a god?” I’d been wondering if he was like Hercules: half mortal, half god. Mythological genealogy was a subject I knew very little about.
Hades laughed then. “Yes. He is Persephone’s and my child.” He paused, as if waiting for me to ask another question.
I looked at him blankly. I had no idea what Plutus controlled. My knowledge of Greek mythology was stretched to its limit already, and I was pretty sure I’d never heard of a god named Plutus. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you and Persephone had a son.”
He sighed and sat back in his chair. “That’s by des
ign. Because if more people knew about what kind of god he was...well, a price would’ve been placed on his head long ago.” He paused again, intentionally waiting for the silence to turn awkward. “Plutus is the God of Wealth.”
“Wealth,” I repeated evenly. That was the big reveal? I thought it was going to be something like the God of Death. Or the God of Huge Power. Or something with more of an “awe” factor. To be honest, I was disappointed. “Why would someone want to kill the God of Wealth?”
Hades’ eyes glittered. “You really have to ask that, Callie?” I stubbornly didn’t answer that, because I had already asked the question. “If someone slays a god correctly and they do the proper ceremony, they manifest his powers.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise and gave myself a little shake. I thought about all of those gods like Poseidon or Zeus, or even Aphrodite. I couldn’t imagine having power like that. And if I had the power of wealth...it was all starting to make sense.
“You're saying that someone wants to be incredibly wealthy.”
Hades nodded. “You mortals have a saying that money is the root of all evil. Here is your proof. If this person succeeds in gaining Plutus’ power...that would throw off the balance of the mortal world.”
Then he did something unexpected. He reached out and grabbed my hand. I nearly recoiled but something akin to a curtain descended over my eyes, and I was swept away to another place—the Surface. And it wasn't pretty.
I stood in Union Square in San Francisco, amidst dilapidated buildings. At first, it looked like a zombie apocalypse, with scores and scores of people in tattered clothing. Then, as I saw the decaying buildings, and the cardboard houses, I realized that these were people weren’t zombies, they were poor. They had no money for their clothes nor did they have money to feed themselves. Children crying, dogs fighting, grown men weeping.
Then I was standing in a similar situation in dozens of other big cities all across the globe. All of these places and faces of depraved people flashed by my eyes, each one more terrible than the last. I saw untilled farms, desert overtaking landscapes, pollution getting worse. It was the worst fate I could imagine for the human race.
The wealth was gone from the world. Where it was, I didn't see. All I saw was what happened when it was gone.
I felt the pressure on my wrist release and then I was standing in Hades' office. The god himself was watching me curiously.
“H-holy shit,” I stammered. I was shaking pretty badly.
“That's what happens if Plutus' powers fall into the wrong hands,” he told me. “And that's the tip of the iceberg.”
“It’s ridiculous!” I exclaimed. “Going to these lengths...just for money.”
“No length is too great for some people,” he sighed. “You find that out after being Lord of the Underworld for many millennia.”
I swallowed, wrapping my arms about my body, looking away from the god. He didn't pressure me to talk while I stared off into space, lost in my thoughts. Who would ruin whole world? Just for money? I felt absolutely sick to my stomach. Who was behind this? A mortal? Another god or goddess? Someone down here? My gut clenched at that. Something about that felt right.
“You have a mole here,” I remarked quietly. “Someone who’s on the inside.”
Hades pushed his chair back and stood up. “I, too, have come to that same conclusion.” He gave me a sad smile. “I think I've made a good decision in enlisting your help, Callie. Any more questions?”
“A few more,” I said. “How do you kill a god?”
A shadow crossed over his face and he grimaced at the very thought of it. “It’s simple, really. You make them mortal.”
I nearly laughed at that. “That’s it? That’s how you kill a god?” It seemed like there should have been more to it. “How do you make a god mortal?”
Hades shrugged. “It varies, depending upon who it is. Sometimes, it's a lack of belief in the god that turns them into mortals. Other times, they eat the wrong thing. Others, it was their decision. We’ve...allowed gods to turn mortal before, but that was because they’d lost the will to be immortal.”
“Is it possible that Plutus has lost the will to be immortal now?” The question popped out before I could stop it.
Hades shot me a dark, pointed look that silenced me immediately. I tucked this moment away to refer to later. Apparently I had struck a nerve with Hades and he didn’t want to continue on this conversation. This Plutus guy was certainly going to be interesting.
“You’ll be partnered up with someone who can help you, of course,” Hades continued, completely dodging my question. He dug around in his desk while he continued to speak. “She’s like you, a cop of sorts, and she knows her way around. She’ll be a great asset to you. And...” He placed a pistol on the desk. “Here is your gun issue.”
Gingerly, I picked it up. It was heavier than I expected, but it fit my hand perfectly. Almost eerily perfectly. It was gold, glittering even in the dim light of the Underworld. I didn’t recognize the make of the gun, then again, that didn’t surprise me. I checked the magazine. .45 caliber, 12 rounds.
“I’m guessing this isn’t a normal gun,” I said softly.
“It’s a blessed gun,” he said softly. “One-shot kills for most of the monsters, nymphs, demi-gods, et cetera around here. The only thing it won’t kill is a god, but it will still hurt them.”
“I’ll need to interrogate everyone,” I said.
Hades waved his hand nonchalantly. “I’ll get you the warrants. Everyone understands that you have important work to do. The only thing is...” His voice dropped into a warning tone. “You’re not allowed to interrogate my family.”
“How am I supposed to conduct an investigation if I can’t talk to Plutus?”
“I don't mean Plutus or Persephone. I'm talking about the Olympians. The major gods…”
A few heartbeats passed while I considered this. “That’s...that’s impeding my investigation, Hades,” I said. “How am I supposed to do this if you’re forbidding me to talk to them?” Not that I wanted to have a heart-to-heart with Zeus. Or Ares. Or anyone else. I couldn’t just skip them, could I?
Shit, I was going in way over my head.
But the upside was that it wouldn’t be the first time.
“My immediate family has nothing to do with these assassination attempts on Plutus, I assure you,” he said evenly. “I’ll give you all the information you need regarding them, but to interrogate them would be an act of war. You are not to interrogate them, Callista Saunders.” His voice was low, dangerous. For a brief second, I had a glimpse of the powerful god underneath.
“Any more questions, Callie?” He was looking at me intently, an underlying threat to his voice. He was daring me to push the issue further.
I swallowed. “One,” I said. “This whole thing sounds very dangerous for me. What happens if I...die? Here? In the Underworld?”
His eyes narrowed. “Things happen differently in the Underworld,” he said, sounding tired. “If you die here as a nearly dead soul, you'll die on the Surface, and your soul will not have an Afterlife.”
My blood ran cold. So my eternal life was on the line too. The odds were worse than the ones at Keno.
It seemed incredibly unfair. I didn't want to put my eternal soul on the line. All I’d done to end up in this position was save an innocent kid from being plowed over by a bus. But he was the Lord of the Underworld after all. So I didn’t push it. I had the feeling that even if I turned him down, Hades would make sure that eternity was hell for me.
It truly was blackmail. There was no sugarcoating it. And based on his sly smile, he knew he had me trapped. I hated him more than anyone else I'd ever met in that moment. Even more than asshole who’d killed my father.
This was bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit.
“All right,” I said, the words choking in my throat. “I'll take the case.”
5
If Hades didn’t quite match my expectations of the
God of the Underworld, Plutus blew any ideas I had out of the water. After getting my marching orders from the Big Boss, he decided it was time to meet the victim in question.
“We're running out of time,” he said cryptically. “I warn you, Plutus isn’t very...sociable.”
I nodded dumbly. My mind must have been overloaded at that point. I was having trouble processing all that was happening. Everything seemed to be a farce at that moment, bouncing off me because it felt so surreal.
“And if he approves, you’ll have another test to go through.”
“A test?”
He didn’t answer. Rather, he silently led me through the maze of the palace. Nymphs and servants ducked out of the way as we passed. I got the feeling that this wasn’t an everyday occurrence, the Lord of the Underworld showing a guest around the house. I felt like I was some sort of show dog, something to be scrutinized. I was a stranger in an even stranger land.
I hated it.
Hades led me directly to a courtyard that lay in the middle of the palace. I was surprised to step out into direct sunlight. It was an oasis. It was absolutely beautiful, the light nearly blinding after being in the dimly lit Underworld. Trees flourished in every corner. Flowers of every color and shape blossomed over every spare inch of room. A babbling brook bisected the courtyard, filled with koi. There were even birds perched on the branches of the trees.
“Wow,” I said softly. I stepped out there, blinking into the sunlight. “This is amazing.”
I gingerly touched a flower and it shrank back from my touch. The whole place teemed with life.
“Sounds like we have a visitor.”
I whirled at the sound of the voice and stumbled backward, crying out in surprise. I hated being surprised. Someone else had been hiding in the courtyard. “Sorry...” I mumbled, but I stopped when I saw who had spoken.
The man appeared to be my age but that meant nothing here. He was tall, taller than me, which was saying something since I was only an inch short of six feet. He had a shock of short, dark hair that had that voguish messy look, although I suspected it wasn’t styled that way purpose. His skin was pale, like he had never seen sunlight but his body was lithe and muscular and reminded me of a swimmer or cross country runner. He looked at me through a pair of designer sunglasses so I wasn’t able to see his eyes.