Hades was not so certain, but he would actually make an effort.
He left Hecate to her work and wandered to the stables, where he released Orphnaeus, Aethon, Nycteus, and Alastor from their pens. He followed them out into the field and, at the last minute, mounted Alastor, riding fast across the Underworld. He had no particular destination in mind, but it had been a long time since he had just existed somewhere without expectation, and that was what he wanted to do right now.
Alastor galloped hard and fast until he came to the edge of the Underworld, where a steep cliff met the gray Aleyonia Ocean. Hades considered jumping into its cold depths, if only to feel cleansed of the chaos that had riddled his body over the past few weeks. As enticing as the thought was, he remained seated and, soon after, turned Alastor away. It was on their way back toward the palace that he dismounted, allowing the horse to run free across his realm, though he was not alone long before Hermes appeared.
Hades did not speak, finding that he was still irritated about last night. In particular, he was not happy that the God of Mischief had chosen Persephone’s dress.
“I came to say I am sorry,” Hermes said.
Still Hades did not speak, nor did he stop, continuing toward the palace.
“Don’t do this, Hades.” Hermes followed on his heels. “The dress was for your benefit, and you know it.”
He hated that the god knew what he was so angry about.
“My benefit?” Hades countered. “How so, when I was the last person to see her in it?”
“Well, that’s the purpose, isn’t it?”
“Do you really think I don’t want to fuck Persephone?” he spat, whirling to face him. It wasn’t even the dress that made him so angry; it was the reason behind it. It was meant to make him jealous. It was meant to make him yearn. “There’s more between us than sex, and if you must know, everything outside that is the problem at this moment.”
Hermes dropped his gaze. “Look, Hades. I didn’t mean to make things worse. At the end of the day, I just wanted to help…and yeah, the dress was meant to send a message, but I thought it might help you see what’s most important.”
“And what is that?”
“The woman in the dress, you idiot.”
“I know that, you fucking imbecile. You didn’t have to put her in fucking mesh for me to get the message.”
“And what if that’s what she wanted?” Hermes asked.
Hades just stared.
“Stop being toxic about the things that don’t matter. You’ll miss out on what’s really important, which is that she loves you.” Hermes shook his head and continued. “A lot of us love you, and you don’t make it easy, especially when you’re like this.”
“Like what?”
“This,” he said, gesturing toward him. “Broody.”
“I am not broody,” Hades replied, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You are, and sometimes it’s hot, but right now, it’s just pathetic.”
“Take that back!”
“I’ll take it back,” Hermes said. “But only when you accept that you deserve more than loneliness.”
*
Hades was still frustrated by Hermes’s words hours later when he was summoned to Nevernight by Ilias, who informed him that a detective had arrived to speak with him. At first he had assumed it was Ariadne, but he soon discovered that was not the case when he found a man in his office.
He was short, stout, and balding, and he stood with his hands resting on a thick belt that holstered his gun, extra rounds, a Taser, and handcuffs and still managed to hold a folder clasped between his fingers.
“Lord Hades,” he said. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
“What can I do for you?” Hades asked, glancing at Ilias, who lingered near the doors.
“I am Captain Baros. I believe one of my detectives has been to visit you recently.”
“Enlighten me,” Hades said, not wanting to out Ariadne, as he had suspected she’d come to him without this man’s knowledge. “I see a lot of people.”
The detective frowned, then reached into the folder, pulling out an official portrait of Ariadne in her uniform.
“Detective Ariadne Alexiou. She’s gone missing.”
Once more, Hades glanced at Ilias, whose expression had become tense.
They were both thinking the same thing. Had Theseus decided to dispose of the detective already?
“That is very unfortunate,” Hades said, not wishing to admit that he knew the woman at all. There was something about this that did not sit right with him, and it had nothing to do with the fact that Ariadne was gone. “Why come to me?”
“It’s just a hunch I have,” said the captain. “See, she’s been investigating these disappearances across New Athens, and shortly before she went missing, she asked if she could go to the gods for help. Specifically, she wanted your help.”
The last sentence was delivered like an accusation. Hades did not like it.
“I am very aware of the Hellenic Police Department’s disdain for the gods,” Hades said. “So it seems unlikely you would approve such an endeavor.”
“I didn’t,” the captain replied mildly.
“Then what would lead you to believe your detective came to me?”
“Ariadne is…difficult.”
“Difficult or determined?”
“Ignoring orders doesn’t make anyone look good, Lord Hades.”
“It certainly doesn’t make you look good,” Hades said. “It makes you look like you don’t have control of your people. Is that why you are really
here, Captain?”
The man glared. “I’m here because I’d like to locate my detective and happen to know that she did, in fact, come to you against my orders. What do you have to say to that?”
“Are you accusing me lying, Captain?” Hades asked, and before the officer could respond, he continued. “Be very careful with how you respond, as I happen to know some truths about you, and I have no fear in disclosing them.”
The detective continued glaring and, after a moment, picked up the photo of Ariadne. “I’ll leave my card.”
“Don’t bother,” Hades said. “I know where to find you.”
The captain said nothing but left stiffly, as if he could feel Hades’s gaze on his back as he went. Once they were alone, Hades looked to Ilias.
“I thought I said to watch her,” Hades said.
“We have,” the satyr replied, defensive. “This wasn’t Theseus.”
If not Theseus, then who? There was only one other person interested enough in the detective to be responsible for her disappearance.
“Dionysus.”
*
Hades had a theory that Dionysus had discovered Ariadne’s association with Theseus, likely because he’d had his maenads stalking her since her unwanted visit to Bakkheia. He decided not to waste time arriving the mortal way and chose to teleport instead, appearing in Dionysus’s darkened office at his club.
“How discourteous,” the god said when Hades appeared.
“Do you have Ariadne?” Hades asked.
“As if anyone could control that wicked, mouthy—”
“I did not ask for a list of traits you admire about her,” Hades cut him off.
“Do you have her? ”
Dionysus glared. “She’s mine to punish, not yours.”
“She doesn’t deserve your punishment,” Hades said.
“She betrayed me,” he said.
“You cannot blame her for the deaths of the Graeae. I doubt it was her who held the knife, but she can tell us who did.”
“I am not a child, Hades,” Dionysus said through clenched teeth. “I know her value.”
“That, coming from someone who won’t choose a side.”
The God of the Vine glared. “I’m letting you in, aren’t I?” he countered.
“Is that choosing a side?”
Hades lifted his head. “It’s a start.”
Dionysus pushed past Hades. “Come.”
They left the office for the elevator on the way to the basement.
“No dungeon?” Hades inquired, glancing at the god, who seemed more on edge.
“No,” he said with none of his usual sarcasm.