by Lucas, Naomi
Cerberus was within every image, and it floored her that she recognized him regardless of his form. In some, he was the monstrous dog, but as she turned, figuring out the order, she recognized the man in the later images.
She recognized others as well. Hades, Charon—who looked suspiciously like Captain Haros—Hermes the psychopomp, and even Hercules with his lion’s pelt. That image made her stomach drop; it depicted Hercules holding a chained Cerberus for all the crowds of humans to gawk at.
The very next image showed Hades bestowing Cerberus a man’s form.
She hadn’t come to Europe, to backpack through Greece, and not familiarized herself with some mythology. Everyone knew the myth of Hades and Persephone, Icarus and the sun, and Zeus and his lightning bolt. She knew them too, but only in broad strokes. She wasn’t a scholar and didn’t know the detailed hierarchy and its inner workings.
But it was the first portrayal of Persephone that finally convinced Cyane to approach the wall.
Her breath caught in her throat.
The pain in her head grew.
I recognize her!
She recognized the woman in the crudely painted image. Cyane stumbled back a step. She longed to linger on it, to let her fingers brush the image, but the pain behind her eyes expanded.
She scurried across the room to the lone chair facing Hades’s Castle, sliding into it. She rubbed her temples until the worst of the pain abated, tried to read the images again, but the horrendous ache returned tenfold, nearly laying her low. She gave up after that, despite her desperate curiosity.
Time crept by, and with no sun or moon to indicate the time of day, she quickly grew restless and uncomfortable.
The god’s punishments tend to last for eternity. What if eternity is just a frame of mind?
Her eyes hooded as she gazed out of the room to look at the waters below. Weariness crept upon her.
Countless pale wisps materialized the longer she watched the water. They followed a singular current that started from directly below her, where the water rushed under the gates to hell, and straight into a dark hole under the castle.
She’d made that journey not that long ago. Seeing it now, sitting in a lone chair, in a quiet room, kept her circumstances solidified in her thoughts.
This place reminded her of the solitary prayer room at the orphanage. The one where the mistresses sent her if she had stepped out of line.
You’re dealing with gods now, abandoned girl, you better fucking pray.
She closed her eyes.
“Tomorrow is the Day of Dancing.” Hades swirled his nectar with disinterest. “However, my daughter decided to take the first dance with our human guest—on the wrong day. For which you did not stop. I’m annoyed, Cerberus, annoyed.”
“Melinoe is not my problem,” Cerberus scoffed. “Demand someone else to solve this problem.”
Hades waved his hand weakly. “Eh.”
“Is there anything else?” He wanted to get back to Cyane. He didn’t understand why, but it worried him. He wanted to feel what he had before with her and study it. Cerberus didn’t like not knowing what had happened to him.
“The whole lot of them know I have a special guest now. I don’t want her to hear about it. Make sure no one but Charon comes or goes before Persephone arrives.”
“And Hermes?”
“The messenger stays.”
Cerberus didn’t know how he felt about that. Hermes was one of the few beings who could leave the Underworld without Cerberus’s permission. It was the winged god’s role to rule crossings, and it wasn’t for Cerberus to deny Hermes’s mandate.
But he’d never befriended the god, and denying Hermes passage may bring Cerberus a moment of mild satisfaction.
Cerberus’s lack of response brought Hades's eyes to him. “Does that bother you?” Hades sipped his drink.
“No. I was pondering my satisfaction in such a request from you.”
“I knew you would alleviate my frustration.” He lowered his cup. “You lied to me, Cerberus.”
Cerberus’s gaze hooded. He bowed his head. “Not intentionally.”
“Cyane—”
It was strange hearing Cyane’s name come from Hades. The names of mortals were below his lord’s notice.
“—was well enough to steal the first dance with Melinoe. Her unfortunate descent must not have been so hard that she needed recovery since she was well enough to transgress. Why have you not brought her to me yet?”
Because something in him feared for the fragile mortal. Cerberus stamped the thought down. No, he feared for his queen’s state of mind. He loved Persephone as one should love their queen. The longer he kept the mortal from Hades, the better it would be.
“I believe she is in shock.” It wasn’t quite a lie.
Hades studied Cerberus, his darkness swirling around the hound in a soft caress. Cerberus remained still and silent under his master’s perusal.
Then Hades’s sly smile returned. “Where is she now?”
“Put away in a place your daughter—or any other immortal—will never find her.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Cerberus, my dear hound. Do I sense concern coming from you? For a mortal?”
Scoff. “No.”
“Hah!” His lord leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Your responses are intriguing. Has our mortal guest stolen your attention? Are you afraid?”
“Afraid?” Cerberus’s eyes narrowed. The fire within him rose. He was the son of the most feared titan of them all; fear was an emotion for his opponents. “Do you want me to bring her to you now?”
“Oh no. I will see her on the morrow when the dancing begins. Bring her then. If she is well enough to show her presence, she is well enough to dance her shock away.”
“Very well, my lord.”
Hades turned to the crackling fire in his hearth, and Cerberus took that as his cue to leave. He turned towards the door.
“Cerberus,” Hades said, stopping him. “You should be afraid.”
Cerberus placed his gloved hand on the knob and, closing his eyes, walked into the darkness.
A short time later, he stood over Cyane’s sleeping, slumped over form in the chair overlooking Styx. Her hair had come loose in the back, and slightly curled tendrils had fallen over her face and spilled down her chest.
The light brown of her hair was nothing to sing about. The shapeliness of her body was the same as any fertility goddess. She had sunspots, an asymmetrical face, and she certainly didn’t look solely Greek. A mortal mutt.
Yet, there was something about her, something he couldn’t quite place. Perhaps it was her imperfections that caused it, maybe it was something else. Cerberus shrugged it off.
It was strange, staring at her without her knowledge. He—like most undying—rarely slept. He took the opportunity her continued weakness gave him.
She was weak. He moved to stand in front of her. There was something about her weakness that returned the thrill to his senses. He didn’t understand it, he never found much satisfaction in anything but keeping the wayward souls below in line, but there it was. Thrill.
What would he do if he’d been born as such a powerless creature? For all his eons of watching mortal souls, he never stopped to think about what it would be like to be a mortal.
If I were powerless, I’d find someone stronger and give myself over to them.
If I were a mortal, I’d find a god and give my life to them for protection.
He had a sudden need to brush back her fallen hair and awaken her, but reflections from his conversation with Hades burned in the back of his mind.
He’d done just that—given his loyalty to a god more powerful than himself. He, the son of the greatest Titan and grandson to primordial Tartarus himself, grandson to Gaea—the world. Even now, Cerberus could feel his father moving deep below, in Tartarus’s gut, waiting for the day Zeus would be overthrown and Typhon’s eternal chains wo
uld break away.
No, I’m not weak like her.
A soft whimper sounded in his ears, and something bumped his hand. Cerberus looked down at the hound seeking his attention. He knelt and idly scratched behind its ears as he watched Cyane. Several more of his pups came out from the shadows to await his attention.
Teeth, tongues, and long sharp snouts. Cyane’s inability to describe his true form brought a rare smile to his lips. His hounds were as much a part of him as he was one of them.
One-by-one they settled around him and Cyane.
Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. The red flush of her skin from earlier was gone.
Maybe I am afraid.
Cerberus looked out at Styx. Not one soul swam against the current. He watched the waves all the same while the mortal and his companions slept.
The Beginning of the End
Cyane awoke, completely aware of where she was, what had happened, and this time, there were no nightmares to frighten her awake.
Something soft and cushy enveloped her. She realized that she wasn’t lounging in a chair anymore, but was in a bed again, with blankets and soft pillows cushioning her body. She sat up with a yawn.
She was still in the same barren room with the singular chair across from her. Hades’s castle rose up like a stunning monument to fill her eyes, as sharp and foreboding as ever.
“You’re finally awake.”
Her belly flipped.
Cerberus leaned against the wall, gazing out over the landscape.
“Creeper,” she muttered under her breath.
He shrugged.
How could I have fallen asleep? Sudden anger and concern filled her. When did he get here? How long has he been in the room with me?
He’d moved her to a bed.
His bed.
It had to be. There hadn’t been a bed before and now there was. She wanted to question where it’d come from, but she was pretty sure she already knew.
She frowned, fisted her hands, and checked her body. Fine. I’m fine. She’d never woken up in a strange man’s bed before.
Cyane began to crawl out from under the covers when something moved under her hand. A big black dog slept next to her, curled into a ball. There was another sprawled out at her feet, and a third on the other side of her, all partially burrowed in the many blankets.
She spent the next few minutes extricating herself from the god-like man’s bed without disturbing his potentially soul-eating, murderous hellhounds.
When she was free, she peeked up to discover Cerberus watching her.
“How long have I been asleep?” she asked.
His eyes ran up and down her body. Cyane crossed her arms.
“A while,” he said. “Time is different here compared to what you know. The darkness makes things slower, quieter.”
“Am I allowed to leave now?”
Cerberus pushed himself off the wall. “No.”
Cyane’s breath hitched. Hope fled. “What? Why?”
“Hades has shut the way until after the festivities.”
It took a moment for his words to sink in. Somehow, deep down, she knew she was fucked, but she’d refused to acknowledge it. If she just kept her focus on her task, and on her quest to reach the destination in the note, she’d make it. She had to. Her determination had never failed her before.
But what if this time determination wasn’t enough?
She slumped back down on the edge of the bed and palmed her face. “You lied to me.”
“That’s the second time I’ve been called a liar in a very short time.”
Heavy steps made her drop her hands. The Greek warrior, helmet and all, towered over her.
Cyane shot to her feet. “You said if I wanted to leave, I should follow you.”
“And you did leave—the ballroom. I saved you from Hermes’s clutches. You do not belong where the gods walk. You’re nothing but a mortal, a mere plaything to them.”
“I thought you were going to lead me out of this place!”
“You thought wrong.”
“You just said I don’t belong here, Cerberus.” She took a step closer to him. “I’m not supposed to be here, right? You saved me from drowning, then told me to say my final words, that I’d broken some law. Then I was woken up and dressed to attend a party, only to be led away shortly after I was forced there to begin with.” Cyane wrang her hands, fuming. “I don’t know what’s happening, I’m confused, I’m scared. None of this makes sense… but somehow it makes all the sense in the world.”
Cerberus cocked his head mockingly in answer.
“Why am I here?” she whispered.
She wasn’t above begging, in fact, she’d get down on her knees right now and beseech him if it meant clearing some of the confusion in her head. This warrior considered killing her not long ago—and she knew she needed to remember that—but he was also the only one who felt right to her.
Maybe because he was the only one who agreed that she didn’t belong.
He can be persuaded.
His gaze flared in the opening of his helmet, going from a dark brown to a deep, fiery red. They were like the last dying embers of a lava field before it cooled into basalt or the first spark of fire when a star formed. She’d never seen anything like his eyes in the world above. They had the power to mesmerize.
Things this terrifying and this beautiful didn’t exist.
It was wrong that this man had such beautiful eyes.
And I can’t even see the rest of his face.
Without realizing it, she reached up.
He grabbed her hand before she could touch him.
Cyane stilled as his hand tightened around hers. She thought he would be warm to match the ruby glow in his eyes, but he was frigid—so unlike the fire in his gaze that it froze her veins. The cold slid over her flesh before it slipped deep within, holding her soul hostage in an embrace she wasn’t ready for.
It wasn’t right. This wasn’t right.
She tried to tug her hand free but it remained his hostage. A shiver wracked her body.
“Don’t be scared,” he said.
His words stopped the rapid chill taking her over.
His fingers loosened on hers, and she realized she didn’t want him to let her go. Not yet. She gripped him, keeping them linked together when he went to pull away.
“Why am I here?” she asked again.
“Lord Hades brought you here.”
It wasn’t enough.
“But why?”
Cerberus removed his hand from hers. A deep crease formed between his brows, taking away the fire in his eyes and the cold of his touch. The moment was broken.
He strode away from her, and the giant dogs all stirred from the bed and jumped up to follow him. One came to her side and sniffed her dress.
Cyane hugged her one hand to her chest and then cupped it with the second. What’d she done to make him so angry so quickly?
“Fix your hair, straighten out your dress, and prepare yourself,” Cerberus snapped. The dogs gathered around his feet. “Hades has requested your presence for the Day of Dancing.”
“I don’t want to join in on your festivities,” she snapped back. “Why should I do anything he pleases when I have no idea why he brought me here in the first place?”
Cerberus turned back to her. “You dare to defy a god?”
“He’s not my god.”
Suddenly, Cerberus was in front of her with his hand around her neck. “Not your god? How quaint. I have a word of advice for you, mortal woman—think long and hard about the history of the pantheon, and think of those who denied the gods what was theirs. The ages have not been kind to them.” He released her abruptly with a scowl in his voice. “You look like a drowned harpy. Put yourself together because whether you like it or not, you’ll do as you’re told or suffer consequences. And not me, nor any other being, will save you from it.”
He stormed towards the looming, red door. Without opening it, he walked
through like smoke and vanished.
Cyane stared after him, shaken.
His touch had made her feel safe, comfortable. For a moment, she’d imagined all of her questions would be answered and he would understand, but that feeling had disappeared as quickly as it’d come. Maybe it hadn’t actually been there at all.
The monstrous dog beside her yawned deeply, drawing her eyes downward.
One of the other dogs came forward with a tennis shoe in its mouth.
She recognized it.
The dog dropped the shoe at her feet, and she picked it up, turning it in her hands.
Fine. She reached her hand into her dress and found her note. If she needed to play the part of a puppet to get out of here alive, then she damned well would. Memories of her childhood threatened to emerge again.
God gazes lovingly upon those who honor him.
The last thing Cyane wanted to do was smile, but she would do so anyway. She wasn’t happy about it, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t play the part to protect herself.
As a child, waiting to be adopted, she’d hoped that maybe the people in the next room would be her real parents. That they regretted giving her up and had returned for her. That maybe God had looked lovingly down on her, and she wouldn’t have to wait until she was an adult to meet them.
But, clearly, that hadn’t gone according to plan either.
Cyane nervously stepped into the foyer that led to the ballroom. Beside her were Cerberus’s hounds; two flanked her while the third led the way. They were her jailors, and she their captive. With precise nudges, a few terrifying growls, and several nips at her heels, they’d forced her to do what they pleased.
She’d hoped they’d leave her alone, forget about her.
Still, she’d come to prefer the large beasts with wide jaws and sharp teeth over the ethereal beings and their intimidating ways.
I like you guys more than your master. Her nostrils flared briefly.
She smoothed out her dress and brushed her fingers through her loose hair, encouraging it to fall around her shoulders. She had no idea if she looked like a harpy or not. There’d been no mirror in the room, nor anyone, to tell her otherwise.