He wanted to pull her close and bury his face in her hair. He wanted to kiss her and make love to her. He wanted to promise her things that were beyond this world.
“I couldn’t sense you,” he said, staring hard at her. He wanted to know how she did it, how she cut him off from her magic. “I couldn’t find you.”
“I’m here, Hades. I’m fine.” Her tone was hushed, and she stared up at him, placing her hands on his forearms.
Fine.
She was fine.
That word rattled through his head wrong, and he released her, reaching to turn on the light. When he looked back at her, she was squinting.
“You will never know how difficult this is for me,” he said. He wasn’t even sure what he was talking about—if it was Lexa or Apollo or just the distance he felt between them, a dark chasm that lay at their feet, though Persephone obviously thought she knew, because she had a reply.
“I imagine as difficult as it’s been for me to deal with Minthe and Leuce, except that Apollo has never been my lover.”
Hades glared. He did not like Apollo’s name and the word lover spoken so close together, and if he could, he would take them from her mouth and spit them on the ground.
“You have not been to the Underworld.” He tried not to make it sound like an accusation, but he could not help it. When she was angry, she seemed to avoid it altogether. She crossed her arms, as if she wanted to deflect his words.
“I’ve been busy.”
“The souls miss you, Persephone.” I miss you. “Do not punish them because you are angry with me.”
She glared at him. “Don’t lecture me, Hades. You have no idea what I’ve been dealing with.”
“Of course not,” he said, surly. “That would mean you’d have to talk to me.”
“You mean like you talk to me?” she countered. “I’m not the only one with communication problems, Hades.”
He pressed his lips together and took a step away from her.
“I didn’t come here to argue with you or lecture you. I came to see if you were okay.”
“Why come at all? Antoni would have told you.”
She’d have probably preferred that. He looked away from her, scowling.
“I had to,” he said and took a breath. “I had to see you myself.”
She stepped toward him. “Hades, I—”
“I should go,” he said. “I’m late for a meeting.”
And while it was true, he knew he was really running from her.
*
Hades teleported to the Grove, which, while he owned it, was operated by Ilias. He preferred anonymity and applied the same practice to his other restaurants scattered about—a couple of pubs and cafés, even a few street carts. If there was one thing Hades had learned in the time he had been alive, it was that people tended to talk more when drink and food were close at hand. It was a great way to gather intel on the various happenings across New Greece.
He manifested beside Ilias, who stood in the shadows on the rooftop restaurant, observing operations. Staff buzzed about carrying trays of drinks and food, and there was a low murmur that ebbed and flowed as people conversed and ate and moved dishes about. It was the only indication of how busy it truly was, since parties were hidden in pockets of lush flora.
“Right on time,” Ilias commented, glancing at Hades once and then nodding as a host led two familiar individuals to a table out of sight.
One was Theseus.
The other was Ariadne.
“Shocking,” Hades said, though his voice was monotone, and he was not so much surprised as he was disappointed. Now he wondered what the detective’s objective had been when she had begged for his help.
“They dated very briefly,” the satyr explained. “But it seems Theseus was more interested in Ariadne’s sister, Phaedra.”
This was the first time Hades had heard that Ariadne had a sister, and if that were the case, why were they at the Grove?
“Thank you, Ilias,” Hades said before he called up his glamour to move unseen between gardens, lush alcoves, and canopied groves. He found the pair at a round table nestled in a recess of vines.
“I am in need of a favor,” Theseus was saying.
“I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement.”
He seemed to ignore her comment and continued. “I need you to help remove any suspicion your fellow detectives may have that I am involved with the Impious.”
“Why?” Ariadne asked, her voice on edge.
“Rumor has it they are about to become more…vocal.”
She did not ask what that meant, but Hades thought he had an idea, and he didn’t like it. The Impious were mortals who did not worship the gods. It was more of a belief system than it was an institution, though some chose to organize under the banner of Triad. It was an organization that used to terrorize the public to prove that the gods were passive, but with Theseus at the helm, they pretended to put aside their aggressive tactics in favor of appearing peaceful, though if Hades had to guess by Theseus’s ask, he’d found a new avenue to execute his violence, and he didn’t want the connection known.
“How can I possibly be responsible for what people think, Theseus?”
“You can. I do it all the time.”
“Just like you’ve done with my sister?”
The demigod did not flinch at her retort, though Hades was certain she meant it as an insult.
“Since you brought her up, I’ll remind you what’s at stake.”
“You already owe me one visit with her, Theseus,” she said, leaning across the table as she spoke through her teeth. “I helped you find the Graeae.”
“And they were useless,” he said.
“Like you?” she countered with her usual venom.
Theseus glared. “I am not the one who consistently fails to deliver.”
“I deliver. You just don’t like the results.”
“And you must not like seeing your sister.”
She sneered at him, but Hades noticed how Theseus stared at her, eyes set intently on her mouth. It was a predatory gaze, and after everything he had said to her tonight, it made Hades want to pluck his eyes from his head and shove them down his throat.
“Put that mouth of yours to good use and do as I say,” said Theseus.
A tense, hateful silence followed, then Ariadne spoke. “If I do as you say, when can I see my sister?”
“That depends entirely on you,” he replied.
Hades did not like whatever hold Theseus had over Ariadne’s sister—or Ariadne, for that matter. It was as if Theseus was holding her prisoner and only granting access to Phaedra when Ariadne performed like he wanted.
Knowing the detective like he did, it was unlikely she’d see her sister again.
Ariadne wasn’t someone to be controlled.
Now he wondered why she’d come to him about the missing women in New Greece. Had she thought her sister was among Dionysus’s maenads before she’d discovered otherwise?
Hades frowned and returned to Ilias, who he found directing staff in the kitchen. He tried to ignore how the clamor of dishes and chatter ceased at his presence.
“Theseus has Ariadne’s sister,” said Hades. “Find out why and who she is.”
Ilias nodded, though he did not take his eyes off his task, which was rolling silverware into black napkins.
“And keep an eye on them, especially Ariadne,” Hades said, biting the inside of his lip as he thought about the detective. He worried for her and feared the longer Theseus strung her along, the less he would need her.
Knowing the demigod, he was already planning how to dispose of her. She knew too much and wasn’t someone he could charm, which meant he couldn’t keep her around long term.
“Of course,” said Ilias.
“Hey! You can’t go back there!” someone shouted, disrupting his debrief with the satyr. For a moment, he thought that perhaps Ariadne had somehow spotted him, but when he turned, he found Leuce bursting through the kitchen doors.
“Hades!” She said his name, but he couldn’t tell if she was surprised or relieved at his presence. His lips flattened as he watched the pale nymph approach, wide eyed and out of breath.
“What do you want, Leuce?” He was still angry with her about Iniquity, not to mention he still believed she was working against him and Persephone.
“I just…” she began, then hesitated. “Will you take me home?”
Hades and Ilias exchanged a look before the god asked, “Why?”