Chapter seven
Aedonaeus
I leave Josie on the stoop and head back inside The Alibi. It’s an old decrepit place owned by an old friend of my father’s, Imelda. With limited patrons and a rich history, it was the perfect spot to bring Josie. I sink back into the booth as the squeaky double doors to the kitchen open. Imelda sets a glass of water in front of me.
“Drink it,” she demands in her heavy Slavic accent.
In the past, my father has spoken of Imelda as if she’s been here since the dawn of time. It’s an exaggeration. There’s no one around who could even speak about the creation of the Universe, including him. Although her face doesn’t appear more than middle aged, her hair is gray. People in the Underworld live forever, provided no one kills them. It’s almost as if time freezes once they come here. Some don’t look a day over twenty, but in truth they’re at least a few centuries old.
We’re a land mostly made up of outcasts, asylum seekers, and the forgotten. I’m not sure which one she is, and it would be rude to ask. She has that air about her that tells you she’s wise.
Imelda levels her gaze. “Who was she?”
“Just some girl,” I lie. The glass is cool, and condensation coats my palms lightly.
“Mmm.” She takes a seat across from me. “I never see you with girl. I thought ‘Oh, Imelda, he must be eunich.’ This is why so sad.”
I draw circles in the moisture. “Very funny.”
“Tell me. Who is she? No lying this time. I will know.” Imelda waves her finger at me.
I gulp down the water and set the empty cup on the cracked plastic table. “I don’t know.”
“What you mean you don’t know?”
“I know her name. That’s it.”
Throughout that entire game, Josie managed to evade answering a single question, and she did a damn good job distracting me from that fact.
“I see.” She gives a wise chuckle. “You bring her here. Must be important?”
“I met her a few years ago, but I never saw her again. You could say she stuck with me.”
“Interesting,” she responds thoughtfully. “You don’t know the outside, but the inside. You know her soul.”
I try to shrug it off. “She just made an impression is all.”
“Your father tried to say same thing about your mother,” she points out. “You should ask him.”
“Yeah, yeah, their great love story. This is nothing like that.”
“Hm,” she regards me. “I remember he said same thing. Go home. Is late and I need to close up.”
With a wrinkled hand, she reaches over and grasps mine firmly before sliding out of the booth, and shooing me away. I don’t try to ask her anything else even though I feel like I’ve been filled with questions. Once Imelda tells you it’s time to go, it’s time to go.
I’m hopeful that Josie is still outside, but she isn’t. The sky lightly drizzles rain on and off, and the humidity is becoming unbearable. It feels like I’m drowning, except it’s drawn out. I reach my building, but it doesn’t feel right. Nothing does. I can only think of Josie, and it’s fucking irritating.
I check the position of the moon. It’s not too late. My father should still be awake. He’s always able to see problems in a new light. Maybe he can help me make sense of this. I turn and head for the palace instead, striding past the guards of the gate, up the path, and into the grand foyer. His office is up several sets of ornate marble steps, and around a few twists and turns. The place is practically my mother’s haven. Instead of dark colors that remind you of death, there are hues of pink mixed with earth tones.
Plants hang from the ceiling and vines climb across the wall, curling around statues of monsters and historical figures. Most of the paintings that have been hung are of the different landscapes in the Underworld. Purple moon flowers that are speckled with white are blooming in the windows, greeting me as I pass them by.
The ornate wooden door to his office comes into view, and I pause, racking my brain for a way to formulate my question. It opens while I stand there, and Hades, the protector of the Underworld, my father, notices me immediately.
His eyebrows rise. “Aedonaeus?”
“Hello,” I awkwardly greet him.
My father is a slim man, and not nearly as tall as I am. He and my mother are both on the shorter side with paler skin and sharper features. He has light blonde hair and magenta eyes. It’s a trait of the gods. He hates that fact about himself. He always told me that he isn’t a god, just a man born of insane narcissists.
He holds the thick wooden door open. “Come in, son.”
Inside, I start to anxiously scan the books on the walls, trying to remember a synopsis of each one. It turns out, I’m saying it out loud.
“Sit.” Hades gestures to an upholstered seat in front of his desk. Once I’m settled, he leans against it with an inquisitive look. He’s still in his suit from the day. His tie has been yanked restlessly, hanging from his neck.
“I saw Imelda tonight,” I say, unsure of anything else.
“Ah, yes. Quite the woman. Is that why you’re here?” There isn’t judgment in his voice, but there is the suggestion that I have somehow taken up with the old woman.
“Gross. She said something interesting.”
Hades shifts uncomfortably, and for just a moment, I see some sort of fear in his eyes. It’s a man whose disguise has been torn from his face, but he composes himself immediately. “Well?”
“There’s a girl. I’ve met her before, and I met her again tonight.”
“Alright.” He readjusts on the desk. “It’s not abnormal to…repeat.”
“It’s not like that.” My tone is severe.
He scratches his short beard. “I see. Do you like this girl?”
“How would I know?”
“Know what, exactly? Speak plainly,” he says, inspecting my face.
“I feel confused.” I don’t tell him about how I met her years ago and that she is all I’ve thought about since. How she works my mind, and I’m drawn to her.
He crosses his arms and uses his thumb and forefinger to stroke his chin in thought. “You’re infatuated?”
“She’s distracting.”
“That depends,” Hades says decidedly. “When I met Persephone, I knew there was no one like her. She encompassed me. I became obsessed and possessive. I went to whatever lengths I needed to because she was it for me. Most don’t get that opportunity.”
“People fall in love every day.” I roll my eyes. “It’s a ridiculous notion full of self-fulfilling prophecies.”
“People are only emulating something they wish they had. Self-fulfilling prophecies are really just them imitating what they want to possess. Manifesting something that doesn’t belong to them, even though they wish it did. You and I are different.”
“Why? Because we’re ‘important’? That doesn’t seem right,” I scoff.
“No, because we are swayed by Destiny. We have an important role to play in the Universe. If you like the girl, then have fun. I don’t see the problem. There are benefits to having a dutiful woman by your side.”
“Dutiful?”
How did this turn into a conversation about the day I become king? I don’t want some girl who stands by to look pretty. I don’t want someone who will lay a gentle hand on my arm in an attempt to calm me. I want violence, specifically the violence of Josie, a girl I don’t even know.
“You’re my prodigy. I can’t do all this much longer. You know I never wanted it in the first place. You’re young and have the Universe at your fingertips. Before Persephone, I made decisions based on impulsive anger, with someone at your side you’ll be able to reason.”
“I don’t need some audience to watch me make decisions and hang on my arm,” I growl.
“I didn’t say marry her. I said you need someone dutiful at your side.”
I laugh. “She’s far from that.”
Her quick tongue and aggressive nature would never allow her to be quiet and stand next to me with nothing to say. She doesn’t even know who I really am. To her, I’m probably some guy who just lusts after her, and is charming enough to pique her interest for a few minutes at a time.
“Why do you think that?”
I’ve said too much. “She just. She’s frustrating and difficult, but I....”
“Like it? I thought the same about your mother.”
“Imelda said something odd. She said that I know the girl’s soul.”
“I see,” he murmurs to himself.
“See what?”
He looks into the fire, haggard and weary. “Fate is a dreadful mistress.”
“What does that mean?”
He pulls himself from his thoughts. “Just another ridiculous thing Imelda said once.” He returns to business. Personal conversations don’t ever last long with him. “Anyways, there’s an exhibit about Tartarus at the museum. I’ve heard rumors that the box is there.”
The wretched fucking box. It has no purpose. It can’t be opened, but Hades is obsessed with it. Years ago, someone stole it, and he has griped about it being taken from his possession ever since. I don’t think he can stand the fact that he doesn’t really know who did it.
“I’ll check it out.”
“Sooner rather than later, Aedonaeus. I want to know who put it on display.”
“Fine.”
“I should get to bed,” he abruptly dismisses me. “Get some sleep.”
He shoves me out of the office and shuts the door in my face. I wander aimlessly through the palace for a while, still not ready to go home. One thing he said that I’ve been dreading, is that I’m his prodigy.
I’ve known for a long time that he doesn’t want to rule forever, but the Underworld can’t be left with no king. As Hades puts it, the realm needs a protector. He always insinuated that he’s protecting it from his brothers, the Olympians, but they’ve never ventured to step foot here. They would have put up more of a fight, wouldn’t they?
The rain has cleared, and a mist has settled throughout the palace grounds. My mind has been racing and it’s exhausting. The only thing that will offer me a reprieve from the madness will be going to sleep. Maybe tomorrow will be less daunting.
I can forget her, I lie to myself.
The sun is turning the sky from deep indigo to pink and orange. As my building rises in front of me, the doorman, Samuel, is already standing there waiting. He wears an emerald outfit with a cap of the same color. Brass buttons line both sides of the lapel of his jacket, and the seams have been sewn with gold thread. He’s a small rotund man with round rosy cheeks.
“Good morning, sir,” he says cheerfully. I don’t respond, and he doesn’t take it personally. I’m in one of my moods and it’s best if no one interferes. I ride the ornately decorated elevator to my penthouse.
The doors open to a scene I should have been expecting. Hermes and Minos are lounging on the couch recounting their night out. The sun is well over the horizon now, shining through the walls of glass.
Minos gives a gruff laugh. “Look who’s making the walk of shame.”
“How was it? Everything you dreamed? I need details. She was quite a magnificent specimen. I wish you would have shared,” Hermes muses
Their words are grating, but I ignore them. They think Josie would stoop to their level. I picture them running their hands over her while dancing. The way she touched their knees when she laughed. Their hungry eyes taking in every inch of her. Anger and jealousy ripple through me.
Minos sits up straight. “What is it?”
“It’s that girl. Duh.” Hermes smacks him in the back of his head. “Isn’t it?”
I sink into the armchair, sulking. “It is. She’s different.”
“She wouldn’t fuck you, would she?” Minos gives me a shit eating grin.
“I’ve almost killed you several times tonight, Minos. It would be best for you to watch your tongue,” I growl. He rubs his neck where I choked him earlier.
“When do you see her again?” Hermes asks gently. Sometimes I forget he is the most emotional one out of all of us.
“I don’t know.”
“You two seemed pretty cozy,” he comments.
“Remember the girl from that pub a few years ago?”
“The one you forced us to go looking for her in that dirty Rem place over and over again? Yeah, I remember,” Hermes snorts.
Minos frowns. “I don’t remember this.”
“The one who ran off,” Hermes reminds him.
“Ah, yes. That one. What about her?”
“That was her,” I admit.
Hermes’ mouth drops open, and Minos’ eyes widen. “No fucking way,” they say in tandem.
“Fucking way.”
Hermes eats a cherry from a bowl. “Is she as great as you remember?”
“No.”
She’s better. I tone it down and try to reason in my head. Josie is just another woman. I’m so desperate to like her because I’ve built her up in my head. Once I have her, this will wear off and I can go back to how things were.
They don’t ask any more questions. Instead, they discuss the twins Minos managed to lure into bed. Hermes bitches about David. Per usual, they had an argument. In the middle of their gossip, I get up and take leave to my room.
Fate is a dreadful mistress, Hades had said. He meant my obsession. The kind that he had for Persephone, no doubt. I would say I don’t want it, but something about it feels good. Josie won’t get away from me this time. She can pretend that she doesn’t want me, that’s fine, but it won’t stop me.
Magnificent creature that she is, she has wants and needs, too. If I must fulfill them and play the long game just to prove a point, I will. When our mouths meet there is energy, and she doesn’t deny me. In fact, she gives it back tenfold. It’s overwhelming and it feeds into me, making me feel powerful. It’s the only time, so far, that I’ve seen her give into something, and I am going to exploit it when I find her. Then I can prove I’m not obsessed, and I can move on. Then this infatuation can end.