14. Hades
Hades
D ead ends.
Dead ends everywhere.
Which was quite ironic considering who I was.
But Sandro was right.
Mother Red Cap had no motivation to kill him. None that we knew at this point, and I needed his body to be prepared for his return because, dammit, I would make sure he did.
That was why I’d brought him to her. She put him in a tank full of amber liquid that was somehow going to keep all his vital organs from rotting.
I didn’t know how long this would take, how long it’d be before I found a way, but I would.
There was only one problem.
The Wraiths.
They hadn’t come for him yet, but they would.
I knew they would. His crown could only keep them at bay for so long. No one could escape them. Not even gods.
I paced around Sandro’s living room, trying to find answers in my old and supposedly wise brain, but I was coming up blank.
“Just rest up, H. You haven’t stopped all day. You’re tired?—”
“I’m a god!” I sighed.
A loud, digitized voice buzzed from the table.
“ Oh really ?” it said.
I glanced at the phone and grimaced when it kept talking.
“ It’s not like you’ve mentioned it a hundred times .”
“What is that?” I turned to Sandro.
He smiled.
“I’m guessing Tao found the Text-to-Speech feature. Don’t ask me how. This model is older than my grandma.”
“ Because I’m smart ,” the phone answered in the same lifeless tone.
“Thanks for the input, Tao, but I don’t think you’re helping,” Sandro said. “And you need to rest up. I don’t know whether you’re a god or not, but you’re in a human body, and those have their limits.”
I shook my head.
“You don’t understand. Every hour that pa?—”
“I don’t understand? Dude! I’m dead. I know what’s at stake. But I also know that you can’t keep running circles around the same thing with a tired brain and expect to find new answers.”
I knew he was right, but I didn’t want to—couldn’t—stop now. Not until he was back. In corporeal form.
“Do I have to call my moms to get you to take a fucking nap, H? Because I’ll do it. Trust me.” He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, and I couldn’t help but feel that warmth that was so prevalent around him, even if it was so much more diminished now he was dead.
“No. Don’t. I’ll do it. I’ll have…what did you call it? A nap.”
“That’s what I thought,” he muttered.
“ Wuoh-p-s-s-s-h ,” said the phone.
“Huh?” I grimaced.
Sandro laughed. “Is that supposed to be the crack of a whip, Tao?”
“ Yup .”
“Well, that worked,” Sandro told the phone.
“ Gimme a break. I’m working with what I got here. It’s your fault I can’t speak properly .”
Sandro rolled his eyes. “Hon, you figured out Text-to-Speech. I’m sure you’ll figure out the rest. For now”—he leaned down, and even though he couldn’t lift the phone, he still tapped on it—“it’s time to go quiet.”
With that, he moved beside me and patted the cushion on the sofa.
“I know it’s not a bed, but it’s what we’ve got until I can replace it.”
I nodded.
“Sorry about that,” I said and sat beside him.
Sandro shrugged. “It’s fine. I get it. You were pissed. Shit happens.”
Before I could lie down as he was instructing, a strong buzz echoed across the room, and I glared at the phone, ready to throw it out the window.
“Shit. Someone’s downstairs,” Sandro said, jumping up. “You’ll have to get rid of them.”
The floor shook, and he walked over to the doorway and looked at a monitor beside it.
“Oh, crap. That’s not good.”
I rushed to his side and looked at the monitor.
“Who is? Is he here to hurt you?”
A man stood out on the street with dark hair and a scowl.
Sandro sighed. “Not everyone is out to get me, H.”
I lowered my eyes to the floor and mumbled an apology.
“You don’t need to apologize.” He chuckled. “I like how protective you are. However misplaced.”
I wrinkled my forehead. “Misplaced? How?”
He waved his hand at me and turned away. “Forget about it.”
I reached for him. His apparition tickled my fingers, but I didn’t let that stop me.
Any contact, no matter how thin, was better than no contact.
“Don’t be afraid, my love. You can tell me,” I whispered.
He shrugged and kept his eyes on the monitor. “It’s fine.”
“Please, my love. Let me in. How can I help if you won’t let me in?”
I wished there was more I could do. That I wasn’t simply the god of the dead. That I was more so I could bring him back and offer him the comfort he so clearly needed.
“I just…I still think you’ve got the wrong guy. I’m not your queen, and you’re wasting your time trying to save me when you should…you should be searching for her.”
I shook my head as he finally looked at me again, and I leaned forward, tipping my forehead against his before I parted my lips and pressed them on his. The tingling electrified my mouth and spread to the rest of my body in waves until the hairs from my nape to my toes had risen in response.
It only lasted for a moment, a sweet, thundering moment, but I got so lost in it that I forgot he wasn’t here in the flesh.
The buzzing sound rumbled again. The floor vibrated, and Sandro snapped away, his translucent skin getting slightly darker around his cheeks. “He’s gonna leave,” he said.
“I-is that a problem? You wanted me to get rid of him, didn’t you?” I asked.
The flushed tint faded, and he pursed his lips, blinking slowly. “No. Not him.”
“Why?” I did my best to not let it sound like a growl but that was exactly what came out of my mouth.
Who was this guy Sandro didn’t want to get rid of?
“Because…he needs his appointment.”
I glanced at the monitor again, trying to figure out what was so special about this guy.
“Need? I’m sure he can live without his tattoos for a day, considering you’re not alive to ink them.”
Sandro snapped around and, with wide eyes, leaned forward, grabbing me by the shoulders.
“You don’t understand. If he misses his appointment, he could die. I have to…I have to find a way to keep his ap—wait a minute! You can do it!”
He pulled away and looked at his hands, then at me.
“Me? I can’t…I don’t know how?—”
“I’ll help. I’ll guide your hand, but…” He glanced at the guy again. “Shit. He’s leaving.” He pressed a button underneath the monitor—or tried to—and turned to me. “Stop him. Tell him to come back.”
I hesitated and attempted to read him once again, but he looked so desperate I didn’t get a chance.
“Stop.” I pressed the button for Sandro.
The guy, who had just disappeared from the monitor, came back and looked straight at me.
“Tell him you’ll be down in five minutes. Tell him to wait.”
I did as my love wanted me to, and then I let go of the button.
“Thank you,” he said.
I responded with a smile.
Even if it pained me to think he had a connection with this guy that he didn’t share with me.
“Wha-what’s so special about him?” I asked.
“Spe—wait a minute. Are you…are you jealous?”
“So what if I am?”
Sandro crossed his arms again and smiled. What was there to smile about?
“That’s…cute. But Damian is just a friend. A friend in need.”
I bit my bottom lip, something I’d never done before in all eternity, and looked at his chest. “Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent,” Sandro replied, amusement clear in his voice. “He’s just a friend. A friend who’s dying of cancer.”
I glanced up and tilted my head.
“He’s dying of…oh.”
That was why he felt connected to this guy.
“And you’re helping him with…healing tattoos, I assume?”
He nodded and blinked slowly enough that I got a brief chance to admire his long eyelashes and the shape of his face.
There it was. The warmth throbbing close to my heart that I could neither control nor intensify. Because if I could, I would bottle it and make it my only sustenance.
“Okay. I’ll do it. For you.”
“That’s good enough for me. And I’m sure it’s good enough for Damian.”
The sound of another man’s name on his lips twisted my insides in all the wrong ways. Mine is the only name he should ever need to utter. But I was pretty confident I couldn’t tell him that. I was pretty confident I’d sent other men into the darkest depths of Tartarus for far less.
So I bit back all my instincts, all my love that wanted to express itself by tearing this man—this stranger—apart, and descended the stairs to the parlor.
And I let the man in.
In person, he appeared bigger than he had on the monitor. He was taller than me, hairier, and more muscular.
Pfft. As if that’s going to intimidate me.
I choked on a scoff and tried not to stare at his bushy eyebrows, which were so odd they were distracting.
“Where’s…Sandro?” He scanned the shop with his hands in his pockets.
I clenched my fists.
I didn’t like this man speaking my lover’s name either.
“ Sandro …is indisposed at the moment,” I said.
“Easy, H. Don’t scare him away. He needs this treatment. Tell him I sent you to fulfill my appointment.”
I told the man, doing my best to compose myself, but how successful I was, I didn’t know.
“Oh…um…thanks,” he answered, so perhaps I didn’t do that bad a job.
He took a leather jacket off and hung it up before sitting on one of the two chairs, the one closest to the partition separating this side from the reception, and stared at me.
“Stop glaring, H. Smile.” I did. “Less like a serial killer, more like a good person?” I glanced at Sandro and relaxed the muscles on my face. “Better. Kinda. We need to work on that.”
“Everything all right?” Damian asked.
“Tell him you’ve got the flu and not feeling very well.” I opened my mouth when Sandro screamed. “No! Don’t. His immune system is weak. He wouldn’t stay. Tell him…you’re recovering from food poisoning.”
“Are you going to be okay? I can come back. Maybe Sandro can call me when he’s back,” the man said once I rehashed what Sandro told me.
“I’ll be fine. I can do it!” I gritted my teeth and glared again despite Sandro’s disapproval.
“Stop being a possessive idiot and go prepare the ink,” Sandro said, and I walked toward the workstation under his guidance.
“Ask him what he’d like done today?”
“Does it matter?” I asked.
“What was that?” Damian asked.
I shook my head.
“It does. He’s a mortal. He doesn’t know there’s spells on his body. He thinks he’s getting medicinal tattoos that help with his chemotherapy.”
“Do you have anything in mind for today?” I asked.
Instead of answering, he grabbed his T-shirt and pulled it off, exposing his chest and abdomen.
The bile that poisoned my tongue made me choke, and I clenched the tattoo pen, ready to stab him with it.
How dare he expose himself in front of my love?
“I was thinking some wings on my back?” His muscles flexed as he put his hand to his nape, pointing at his shoulder blades.
I snapped around to look at Sandro, but he was staring at me, grinning.
“Easy tiger, I’m not interested in him and he’s not interested in me. We’re just friends. How many times do I have to tell you?”
I took a deep breath and studied Sandro. He had told me three times already. And he shouldn’t have to. My love would never lie to me and I trusted him.
Besides, if this Damian guy tried to do something, I could burn him to a crisp before he even flinched.
“Fine,” I muttered.
“Huh?” Damian asked.
“I said that sounds fine.”
Sandro guided me through the setup of the chair, and I guided Damian until he was sitting with his chest supported by the leather back and then turned my attention to the tattoo pen and black ink that swirled with a tinge of green magic.
“Now what?” I asked him.
Sandro slapped his forehead and sighed. “Don’t worry. I’ll guide you through everything. But…stop talking to me. I don’t want him thinking you’re crazi”—he paused and tilted his head side to side—“er.”
I frowned, and he cooed.
“Oh god, not the puppy-dog eyes. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” His skin darkened again.
Puppy dog, what?
Hm…if whatever I did with my eyes made him blush, I had every intention of doing it again. And again. And again.
“It’s okay. Now tell me what to do next,” I said.
Sandro sighed again and pointed at a device on a desk.
I followed his instructions and printed a set of wings on stencil paper, put a pair of blue gloves on, unwrapped a razor, shaved Damian’s back, then applied a thin gel over the skin before I transferred the stencil onto him and picked up the pen.
“Right. Are you ready?” he asked me.
“As I’ll ever be,” I answered as he moved behind me.
I craned my neck to look at him, but I felt him first. I felt his chest pressing against my back because my hair rose as he did and then his arms closed around mine.
His fingers wrapped around the hand holding the pen, and I turned the machine on.
My hand vibrated and warmed almost immediately, which, in itself, wasn’t scary. Alien, but not scary. However, when it combined with his ethereal touch, the sensations that erupted in my body went straight to my cock, and I swallowed the knot that formed in my throat, only for it to be replaced by a new one.
“Now nice and easy,” he whispered in my ear, a cold breeze where his lips should have been.
I sat behind Damian, stretched his skin, and let Sandro do all the inking through me.
Even though I held the pen, the whole process was all Sandro. From the pressure of the pen to the gliding of the tip across Damian’s back to the comfort words he asked me to repeat.
The more I watched him work through me, the more rigid his hand seemed to become until a rush of chills overwhelmed me, and his hand fused with mine.
“Shit! What the fuck happened?” Sandro asked and his hand wavered in and out of mine.
“You’re possessing me,” I said.
“Huh?” Damian turned his head to look at me.
“Nothing,” I said. “I’m…I’m thinking of songs.”
What? Thinking of songs? What kind of excuse was that?
“You write songs?” he asked.
Well, that makes more sense.
“Ah, yes. That’s right. I do.”
Damian nodded and resumed his previous position.
Which gave Sandro the opportunity to stare at me instead.
“What do you mean I possessed you?”
I frowned and bit my lower lip. “You are a spirit.”
Sandro flinched as if I’d insulted him and shook his head.
“Wait, I can do that? Possess people?”
“The longer you are a spirit, the stronger the ability will become.”
His confusion turned to astonishment as he beamed back at me.
“Does that mean I can possess my moms and make them talk to me?”
I looked at Damian, and with some hesitation, I nodded. I had hoped to keep that from him. It was a dangerous technique. It could turn a spirit into something else, something darker and more terrifying, but as long as I brought him back to life, we wouldn’t have to worry about that becoming a reality.
Right?
“Awesome.” He all but jumped in the air with excitement, and it was so infectious I couldn’t help but smile back.
Damian coughed, and we both looked at him.
“Oh, right,” Sandro said and stepped behind me. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”
I nodded, and as before, I let go and let him touch me, only this time, his hand went right in me, taking complete control of my limb and creating a constant stream of goosebumps all over my body and a permanent hardness in my pants.
He continued drawing with much more confidence, and I let him. The longer it went on, the more the effect of the magic of the ink and Sandro’s possession grew, and with the aid of the whirring pen, it singed the air I breathed, burned through me, causing my erection to throb with need.
I could do nothing but succumb to the beauty of my lover, to the perfection with which he guided my hand to create perfect black lines. To the patience with which he treated both Damian and me and to the way he got so lost in the moment that it was easy to believe he wasn’t just a spirit but an actual living person doing what he did best.
In those moments, moments that actually lasted hours, I forgot about jealousy, about death, about my mission.
I reveled in being used as a means to express Sandro’s passion and help the dying man with his art.
If I wasn’t already in love with him, this would be the moment I would fall utterly head over heels for him and go to the ends of the Earth to make sure he came back so I could watch him use his skills and heart for the rest of our eternal life.
“It looks great.” Damian stared at his back in the mirror after three or so hours.
I didn’t know exactly how long had passed. I had enjoyed every single second, and I was sad when we finished.
“Thanks…I never actually got your name.” Damian turned to me with his dark eyes.
“Just say H,” Sandro said.
“Hades,” I answered.
No one else got to call me H. Only Sandro.
Damian squinted. “Like the Greek god?” he asked.
“ Exactly like the Greek god.”
He nodded and reached for his T-shirt to cover up.
“I sent the money to Sandro’s account when you were finishing up. Is that okay?”
“It is.”
“Cool. Then, I guess I’ll be back next month. Do you think Sandro will be back by then?”
He’d better be, or even I wouldn’t be around anymore.
“He will,” I answered.
I needed to start vocalizing it more in order to make it true. Perhaps if I did, the answer would come to me.
“Great. Nice to meet you, Hades.”
Damian put his leather jacket on and walked behind the partition.
“You need to activate the spell,” Sandro jumped and followed behind Damian.
“What?”
“He’s a mortal, remember? You need to activate the spell before he leaves, or it won’t do the healing.”
I caught Damian just as he was opening the door. “Hang on,” I told him, and he turned to look at me.
“Everything okay?”
“Shit. Can you even activate spells?” Sandro asked me.
I didn’t answer either of them. I simply grinned and approached the tall man. I put my hand on his back and pretended to dust something off, but at the same time, I directed my power through my hand onto the magical ink under all the layers.
“All good,” I answered. “Have a safe trip home.”
I let go, feeling the throbbing against my fingertips as the spell started to do its work and eat away at the cancerous cells that were killing the man.
Damian left the parlor, and I shut the door behind him.
“You should get Tomasz to—” I started as I turned to face my love but froze when I saw the dark shadow wrapping its sharp claws around Sandro’s spirit shoulder and chest.
Forsaken chaos and unholy mother!
I knew they’d come for him, sooner or later.
Let’s just hope I can stop them.