35. In Which Death Becomes Them
Chapter 35
In Which Death Becomes Them
Modern-day Palace of Hades in the Underworld
T he table was set for a king. Long, dark, heavy wood ran down the center of the room. Draped on the table was a delicate, black-lace runner. Silver trays lay empty, picked clean of their contents hours ago. Plates and wine glasses lay strewn about. Silver and gold mismatched candelabras lined the middle, illuminating the once grand feast below. Candles in different degrees of use sat in their holders; wax drips hardened onto the table below. Above were two sizable iron-and-wood chandeliers hanging from beams across the room’s width. Heavy chains held their massive size in place as they illuminated the space below. Flowers in different-sized vases were on every table and flat surface. The arrangements were haphazard at best. Freshly picked narcissus and asphodels, flowers of delicate beauty flowed out of overturned skulls and clay pots.
Hades sat in his oversized chair. His dark features were fixed, intently listening as he sliced into a hunk of meat on a delicate bone-china plate. Steam rose in the air as his fork stabbed a chunk, nodding at something Valerius said.
“My love,” he called to Persephone, who had vacated her seat moments before and was humming softly at a sideboard, distracted. “My Kore, if you would like, you may retire. I’m certain our guest won’t mind. These last few weeks have been hard on you.”
Persephone turned abruptly around and smiled at her husband. Her large belly knocked into a tray and sent it toppling over, crashing to the ground.
Placing a hand at the top of her belly, she laughed. “I’m so clumsy.”
“Never mind, Kore.” Endearing her once more to him with the use of his pet name, Hades snapped his fingers, and a servant jumped to clean the mess. She padded to him, slipping her delicate hand in his. “You look tired. Valerius and I still have more to discuss. Why don’t you get off your feet and lay down.” He smiled at her as she stroked his jaw. Grabbing her fingers, he kissed the knuckles.
Valerius had long admired these two. Their love burned bright even now, several children and centuries later. Where Hades was imposing and stoic, Persephone was soft and delicate. They were the epitome of light and dark, fragility and iron. On Hades’ left side was a series of tattoos that covered most of his chest and arm, depicting a war from long ago. Persephone looked every bit like a maiden nymph beside him. She had diaphanous wings, like gossamer. When she moved, they caught the light with an iridescent shimmer. Where Hades preferred leather sandals and warrior garb, Persephone wore soft, floaty gowns and refused shoes. Her flaxen gold hair was pulled back into a braid with flowers woven into it. Around her head, where most queens displayed their crowns of gold, Persephone tied flowers together into a crown. And while she seemed a dainty, whimsical goddess, Valerius knew firsthand how fierce she was, laying waste to anyone who dared threaten her family. She was a perfect combination of ethereal and destructive. He could see what had enraptured Hades all those years ago.
He watched as Hades gently smoothed his hand over the curve of her stomach, his smile genuine as he looked up at his wife. No fear, no submission, no control over the other, a true partnership. She clicked her tongue against her teeth, and her two pets rose lazily from their spots by the fire. Cerberus shook his heads, one rising to eye Persephone before all three fell asleep. She gave Valerius a half-smile as she walked towards her pets resting by the fire. Vengeance and Retribution were given as presents when they were merely cubs, gifts fit for a queen. Now fully grown, the two griffins were just as dangerous as the woman leaning over to scratch under their chins.
“Come on.” She patted her thigh. “Venni, Rhett, let’s go to bed. Good night, boys. Be good,” she said sternly as the two griffins lazily sauntered behind her. Hades watched her leave the room, his eyes following her until she disappeared from view.
“So, your plans are what, exactly?” He stabbed another hunk of meat and plopped it into his mouth.
“My plans?” Valerius eyed the plate in front of him. He took a bite, wondering if this time he’d be forced to stay in the Underworld since he was sharing a meal with Hades. Valerius always did like that part of the human myth. He broke a chunk of bread into two pieces and took a bite of one. “They’re simple enough. Remove the Serathena and the grimoire to my palace where I can stop Athena from getting her hands on either. Pandora created the Serathena as a failsafe against the meddling Olympians. If Athena has her way, she’ll throw the entire court into a second war with the Titans.”
He spoke with his mouth full. Taking a swig of wine to help wash down the bread, he swallowed and began again.
“And, before you ask, yes, I have to have both. Aerelia nor the Olympians can interfere there.”
“You’re afraid she’ll try to stop you?” Hades sat back and brought his wine goblet to his chest. He made like he would take a swig and then thought better of it.
“I know she will. She has already tethered a siren to her.”
“A siren?” Hades looked shocked.
“Yes.”
“How the hell did she get a siren?”
“You tell me, all-knowing king of the underworld,” Valerius said, leaning back in his chair.
Hades’ face darkened. “You think I knew about this? I might pretend not to notice when she summons you, Valerius, but your mate is more powerful than I am. If she can tether a siren without arousing suspicion, she can do just about anything from her cell.”
“Except escape,” Valerius said with a nod.
Hades nodded as well, taking a mouthful of wine. Aerelia being able to summon a siren under his nose was unsettling to both of them.
“I can’t have her escape, Hades,” he muttered.
“The world can’t have her escape, Valerius.”
“Then you’ll help? Once the time comes?”
Taking a slow breath, Hades considered the implications of his proposal. Many Olympians still believed that the Serathena was the destroyer. But the truth was more egregious than a destructive creation. One drop of the Serathena’s blood would break the lock Pandora created, releasing the Titans and the Dark Oracle. The death of the Serathena would throw their world into utter chaos, and the second Trojan War would begin. Aerelia would once again go against the mighty Greek gods, as it had been centuries before. In her zeal to return Olympus to its rightful place, Athena would bring about the demise of Olympus. Pandora cursing the gods was her way of protecting the Olympians. Which was why he would make damn sure the Serathena lived. And her blood never reached the ground. She was far too important to the delicate balance of this realm, and killing her, as per Athena’s misguided orders, would disrupt that balance.
“Have you found Pandora yet?” Hades asked, breaking into Valerius’ musings.
“No. The furies still have her hidden, but I can’t wait any longer. I need to bring the Serathena to me and hope I find Pandora afterward.”
Hades shook his head. “Her soul was never received here, Valerius. She should have been in Aeacus’ books, but I poured over them and have come up empty.”
He nodded. He had been looking for Pandora since the day she died. Of course, the furies knew where she was, but the infernal things kept tight-lipped.
“I’ll help,” Hades said. “But Valerius, this puts a burden—”
“I know. I don’t relish your decision, Hades.”
Hades twirled the stem of his goblet between his finger and thumb. “I won’t have an answer tonight on whether I will join you should another Trojan War break out. I stayed out of the last one and will do my best to stay out of this one.” He set the goblet down with a clink of iron on wood. “When you came to me all those centuries ago, begging me to release Aerelia’s soul to you, do you remember what I said?”
Valerius nodded. “Some souls are forever marred by their own unwillingness to change.”
“Your mate is one of the souls. She drank from Acheron; there is no changing her back into the one you knew. Letting her escape would be detrimental. She has blackened her soul by her selfishness and thirst for revenge.”
“Athena may end all of us if she gets to the Serathena first.”
Hades leaned forward, his elbows on the arms of his chair. “Some battles you go into knowing the only way you’re coming out is in pieces.” Furrowing his brow, he nodded decisively. “I’m in agreement with you that the Dark Oracle needs to stay in Tartarus.”
Valerius felt a relief in a moment that should be heavy and weighted. The two slipped into silence, letting the rest of their meal pass comfortably between them. Sometime later Valerius stood by the fire watching the embers die.
“You know, you don’t have to pay for the burden of your sin. I can let you out of your torture.”
Valerius didn’t respond; he didn’t need to. He would never ask Hades to release him from his bondage. His attachment to his mate, however cruel, was the price he’d gladly pay to right his wrong. He had misjudged Aerelia all those years ago. His continued submission to her savagery kept her occupied. His penance was worth the heinous treatment.