Chapter 5
Hades
An hour after the Olympian Council had adjourned, Hades stood at the base of Mount Olympus in front of a crowd of reporters.
He had yet to speak a single word and was already annoyed by the incessant click of camera shutters.
Each wave made the blood pound harder in his head.
Soon it would settle behind his eyes and then he would rage.
He curled his hands into fists, fighting the urge to snap, knowing that doing so would derail the purpose of this entire press conference, which was to inform the public about the danger Hermes had let into the world.
He gritted his teeth, angry. He didn’t particularly like feeling this way toward Hermes, but he could not help recalling the distress his actions had caused Persephone.
Perhaps it would not be so bad if she weren’t pregnant, if he hadn’t watched her work tirelessly over the last few weeks to decorate and bake for the holidays, but he had, and it was all gone in an instant.
These thoughts made him fidgety, anxious to check on his wife. He hoped no one noticed.
Focus, he told himself.
All you have to do is read from the script, Sybil had told him, handing over a piece of paper. It lay on the podium in front of him, except now that he was looking at what she had given him, he realized how small the text was.
Fucking Fates, she could have at least made it a point or two bigger.
“Good morning,” he said, clearing his throat into the mic, and he saw Sybil wince in his peripheral. Harmonia, who stood beside her, gave an encouraging smile, Fates bless her. The oracle was going to regret letting him do this, and he did not even intend that as a threat.
It was just the truth.
“You may be aware…or already…participate in the annual…tradition of…preparing for the Kallikantzaroi.”
He read slowly, in part because he did not wish to bend over the podium to squint at this small script, but also because the words Sybil had chosen felt unnatural.
He glanced at the crowd, feeling disconcerted under their gaze.
When he returned his attention to Sybil’s speech, he lost his place and decided he did not have the time or patience to find it again.
He straightened, dark gaze on the crowd, and all at once, he felt their unease.
Fucking finally, he thought, almost smirking.
“The Kallikantzaroi have been unleashed into the city,” he said, his tone and cadence settling into something familiar and ominous, judging by the look on the reporters’ faces.
“You may be aware of their propensity for chaos and sometimes violence, but unlike previous years, this is no fun tradition or children’s tale.
They pose a very real threat, and you should plan accordingly.
The Olympian Council has set a plan in motion and will provide resources to help you ward your home against these creatures until their reign of terror ends on Christmas Day. Any questions?”
A few people raised their hands. Hades just stared, and after a moment, all but one remained.
“Can…can you tell us how this happened?” the lone reporter asked, voice quivering.
“Hermes,” he answered.
Without another word, he left the podium, only to face an unhappy Sybil.
“I gave you a script,” she said, holding her clipboard with both hands as though she wished to strike him with it.
“I think you did great,” said Harmonia, who lingered a few steps behind.
“You are too kind,” Hades said to the Goddess of Harmony and meant it. Then he looked at Sybil and handed the paper back to her. “The font was too small.”
“I asked you if it looked good.”
“If you are suggesting that is the same question as can you read this paragraph, it isn’t,” he replied.
“I’m starting to think you need to bring back Oracles speaking for the gods. It would save me a lot of work.”
Hades grunted in agreement and started to walk away when Sybil stopped him.
“Hades,” she said. “How is Persephone?”
“She’s fine,” he said. “Or so she says.”
He knew she was in the habit of minimizing her true feelings to ease his own. It was something they were both working on.
“I’ll text her,” she said. “Harmonia and I are excited to see her at the ceremony.”
“She is excited too,” he said.
They had been asked to light the national tree in Monastiraki Square this year, though whether they attended was up to the twins.
Still, he hoped for Persephone’s sake they were able to go.
He knew she felt isolated in the Underworld, though she had not expressed it aloud.
It wasn’t that she did not love their realm or their people, but the Upperworld belonged to her as well.
She longed for fresh air and real sun. Though, he had to admit, he was anxious about the event.
What if she went into labor while out and about in New Athens?
Then I go into labor, Persephone had said.
He’d had no reply, feeling as though he could not argue with her. The twins were their creation, but she was carrying them, and it was her body. If she wasn’t worried, he wanted to keep it that way.
“I’ll see you both later,” he said with a nod. He took a few steps before teleporting to the Underworld in search of Persephone.
Part of him hoped to find her resting in bed or in the library, maybe even soaking in a warm bath, but he knew that was wishful thinking.
She was bundled in a fur-lined cloak, choosing a new tree from the many silver-toned pines in her grove.
Several souls had joined her, including Ian and Zofie, who had become the blacksmith’s eager apprentice, and a handful of children.
Apollo and Hyacinth were also in attendance, as well as Thanatos, Lexa, and…
“Hecate,” Hades said tightly. Of all Persephone’s enablers, he expected better from the Goddess of Witchcraft, though he was pleased with none of them. “What is this?”
“We needed a new tree for the foyer,” said Persephone. “I thought the children could choose a replacement.”
“And that required your involvement?” he asked.
Persephone’s already rosy cheeks turned a shade darker. “Walking is good for the babies, Hades.”
“And the cold?” he countered.
“Is it still a lover’s quarrel when babies are involved?” Apollo said.
“Are you suggesting couples cannot be lovers once they have children?” Hyacinth asked.
“No?” he replied, sounding very uncertain.
“That is a ridiculous thing to say, Apollo,” said Lexa.
“Well, I don’t know!” he countered.
“This isn’t a quarrel,” Hades snapped.
“Then what is it?” Persephone asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
Hades looked at her. “I’m just…concerned.”
Persephone’s gaze softened. “I’m fine, Hades,” she said, hands falling to her round stomach. “We’re all fine.”
Hades took a breath. “Have you chosen your tree?”
Persephone smiled. “The children have marked them with red ribbons.”
“Them? I thought you said one tree.”
“No, I said trees,” Persephone argued.
“You didn’t,” said Apollo.
“What I said doesn’t matter,” Persephone huffed. “The point is, we’re ready to cut them down.”
“You mean with a saw?” Hades asked.
There was a part of him that could not believe she was still insisting on doing all this by hand after the Kallikantzaroi destroyed her work. Christmas was a few days away, and this could all be cleared up with a snap of their fingers.
Fuck me, he thought.
“It’s for the children, Hades,” she said, staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes.
“I can’t imagine the children care whether you cut the trees down with a saw or magic,” said Hades. “Hell, they probably prefer magic.”
“I’ll cut the trees,” said Ian.
“Yes, we are accustomed to the labor,” said Zofie.
“Are you insinuating that Hades isn’t accustomed to such labor?” Thanatos asked, working to keep from smiling.
“Please say yes,” said Apollo.
Ian and Zofie’s eyes widened. “Of course not,” said the blacksmith.
“We would never,” said Zofie. “But if Lady Persephone desires the trees to be harvested in a particular way…”
“Then we would be glad grant her wish,” finished Ian.
“I will grant her wish,” said Hades. “Where is the fucking saw?”
He took a step toward Ian but paused when Persephone spoke. “Hades, this isn’t necessary. We were doing fine before you arrived.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked.
“Only that we had a plan,” she said. “Perhaps you should…do something else. Like finish the crib.”
“Are you saying I can’t do both?”
“No,” Persephone said.
“Yes,” said Apollo. “Two hands-on projects in one day. You might get a callous, Hades.”
“I don’t think you are helping,” said Hyacinth.
“I don’t think that’s his intention,” said Lexa.
“I really wish you were ascending this round,” Hades said.
The moment the words were out, the dynamic shifted between them, going from playful sparring to a tense quiet. Apollo’s gaze dropped and after a few seconds, he turned and left the grove. Hyacinth hurried after him.
“What did I say?” Hades asked, looking from Persephone to Thanatos and Lexa. The God of Death blew out a breath.
“It’s the Ascension,” said Thanatos. “Apollo is worried Hyacinth will reincarnate. He has come to me several times, begging to know if Hyacinth will ascend.”
A grim understanding struck Hades.
“What have you told him?”
“What I would tell any soul,” said Thanatos. “The decision is up to Hyacinth.”
It wasn’t a satisfying answer, but it was truly the only one he could give.
Ascending was a decision the soul made, sometimes without even realizing it.
That was the one drawback to allowing the dead to curate a life in the Underworld.
They were so attached, so caught up in their existence, the pull of ascension was a shock to their system.
“Has he not discussed this with Hyacinth?” Persephone asked.
“I think he is too afraid,” said Thanatos. “He doesn’t actually want to know the truth.”
Everyone was quiet.
“He will come to you next,” said Thanatos to Persephone. “He wants someone to stop it from happening.”
“That is not possible,” said Hades.
“He knows that,” said Thanatos. “But he will keep trying. Remember what he did when Hyacinth died?”
Hades would never forget. He’d demanded to die, to be thrown into Tartarus and torn apart by the Titans. Hades refused and Apollo sought revenge by sleeping with his lover at the time, Leuce.
Guilt slammed into him as he recalled the aftermath.
He’d turned Leuce into a poplar tree, and she’d remained that way up until about three years ago when she’d returned to her true form.
Despite their past, Persephone had taken the woman under her wing and now the water nymph was living on her own and working for Persephone at The Advocate.
In the end, everything had turned out well, but Hades would never forgive himself for punishing Leuce.
“We should speak with Hyacinth,” said Persephone.
“You should speak with Hyacinth,” said Lexa. “These two idiots will just make everything worse.”
Thanatos frowned, staring down at her while Hades pursed his lips.
“I agree that Thanatos and I do not have a way with words, but you could have left out the idiot part,” he said.
“Apollo should ask himself if he regrets the time he spent with Hyacinth. If the answer is no, then losing him is worth the pain.” Lexa’s cheeks reddened as she spoke. “Come on, Ian, Zofie. Let’s cut these trees down.”
She stormed ahead and the two followed.
Hades looked at Thanatos. “Something tells me she wasn’t talking about Apollo and Hyacinth.”
“Shut up,” the God of Death replied, following after Lexa, leaving Persephone and Hades alone with Hecate.
“Well,” said Hecate, watching them go. “It wouldn’t be Christmas in the Underworld without a little bit of chaos.”
“You call this a little bit of chaos?” said Hades.
The goddess raised a brow. “Oh, Hades. You know I could do so much worse.”
“Please, Hecate,” said Persephone. “For the love of the twins, do not take that as a challenge.”
Hecate slipped her arm through Persephone’s.
“Only because you asked,” she said.
Hades let the two walk ahead while he lingered in the snow-laden grove. He paused long enough to take a breath, releasing it in a puff of cloudy air as a few stray pieces of ice drifted down from the gray sky, striking him hard on his forehead and cheeks.
It was a reminder to keep his emotions in check. If he wasn’t careful, the Underworld would go from a picturesque winter wonderland to a frozen wasteland.
“Timber!”
Ian’s call was followed by a loud crack and a chorus of screams.
“Fucking Fates,” Hades hissed, racing through the snow, heart beating hard as he tried to prepare himself for what he’d find in the clearing ahead, but as he broke through the tree line, the sound of cheering slowed his steps.
Nothing was wrong. The children had only screeched with excitement, not fear or pain.
As he stood at the edge of the crowd, he felt Hecate approach.
“This anxiety is not good for you, Hades,” she said.
“I’m fine,” he said gruffly, though he knew otherwise. He felt like the walls were closing in, trapping him in the same dark labyrinth that had threatened to take everything from him during the Olympian War.
Logically, he knew that wasn’t possible.
The labyrinth had been destroyed, and the one who’d put him there, chained in Tartarus.
But there were other threats, ones he might not see if he let himself become content.
He tensed at the feel of Hecate’s hand on his arm.
“They are safe, Hades,” said the goddess. “You are safe.”
How can you be sure? he wanted to ask, but he kept the words inside, too afraid to say them aloud, to admit that he doubted his abilities.
“Everything you have ever wanted is before you,” said Hecate. “Don’t let fear keep you from seeing it, holding it, enjoying it.”