Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
THANATOS
“Did you see the way he pissed himself?” Megaera cackled with her sister. “I mean it was a thing of beauty. I didn’t even have to touch him. Just a few of his own thoughts and boom the cell was covered in the stench.”
Whenever I needed to fall into oblivion, I would join the Furies in their home for a night of ambrosia.
They were the most violent of creatures, but they could drink like pirates.
Megaera and I had a tenuous friendship. She loved when I brought souls to the Underworld that ended up in Tartarus.
It was her area of the Underworld where she used her powers against the evil souls who deserved the punishments the Furies meted out.
But when I neglected to bring her new souls, she would allow her sister Tisiphone to let loose her legendary temper, where anything in the Underworld could potentially blow up, which always pissed off Hades and me.
Their home was deep in a mountain only a few ranges away from mine.
Whereas I’d only occupied a small portion of mine, the Furies took the entire mountain.
The rooms were connected by dark and winding corridors only they could navigate.
The room we currently occupied was smaller than the others I’d been in before.
Though we were in a mountain, the walls were smooth and painted a glittery gold color.
Scorch marks were spread up and down the walls in sporadic spots of explosion.
My sandals crunched over broken glass that riddled the floor from where they smashed them.
Though the furniture was plush and comfortable, there were deep gashes in the arms and cushions where they’d raked their claws over it.
Broken chairs sat in a haphazard stack in the corner of the room along with a few tables and twisted candleholders.
The casual damage inside their home was a testament to the sharp twists in temper the Furies all had.
And yet I found their unpredictable nature to be entertaining.
They didn’t hold back their emotions or their base needs to commit violence, which I enjoyed.
All I had done for centuries was bottle up my emotions.
If I was smarter, I’d take a page from the Furies and do exactly what I wanted whenever I wanted.
How I’d desired to take Anastasia from Ophelia’s castle and whisk her away to safety.
But Hades would know if I moved her soul anywhere on this Earth.
He might’ve known how close I’d actually come.
To touch her and hold her for that brief moment was a touch of bliss and torture.
Her skin was so soft, and her hair smelled of jasmine like the first time we’d met all those years ago.
“Thanatos, don’t you agree?” Megaera caught my eyes.
“Hmm. What?” I snapped to attention.
“I think our friend prefers to be elsewhere.” Alecto, Megaera’s sister, leaned back on the couch. A piece of fluff flew from one of the claw marks and landed in her bright-red hair. Her eyes darted up toward it. She shrugged and then left it there.
I held my golden goblet up toward Megaera. “Fill me up.”
She smirked and extended the bottle of gold ambrosia toward me. “Pour it yourself.”
Her emerald eyes flashed with amusement as she dropped the bottle. I caught it before it hit the floor and shattered. I poured myself a generous cup and drank deeply. Megaera threw her hair over her shoulder. “Well done. Now, why don’t you tell us what is wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” I sighed.
“Oh, he thinks I can’t read him. We’ve known each other for centuries and yet he doubts me.” Meg held her hand out and white lines of power dripped from her fingertips like teardrops. “Perhaps I should take a look in his head and see his deepest . . . issues.”
“We both know you only see the fears. My other thoughts would remain my own.” I shrugged and took a deeper drink. The liquid calmed my insides and gave me the energy I’d been lacking lately.
Megaera threw her head back, laughing. “Your issues are your fears. Come now, let me have a peek.”
I held my hand up, warding her off. “I’d rather not.”
Though she was ridiculously powerful, she used the power to show evil-doers the worst versions of themselves.
Her favorite party trick was to make them their own victims in their own heads.
So, if she were to do that little trick on a serial killer, she would make that killer a victim in their own head.
It was the worst sort of torture, and she loved to do it.
“Then, do tell me . . . what is on your mind?” She took a sip.
Her other sister, Tisiphone, strolled into the room.
Like her sister, she was supernaturally beautiful, with long strong limbs.
She wore a crimson crop top that looked to me like a bra.
Thin, gauzy straps of fabric hung from her hips, forming a makeshift skirt.
A coiled whip was strapped to the belt surrounding her slim hips.
Large bat-like wings peeked up from her shoulders.
The sisters were all alike in looks, yet their coloring was different.
Megaera had midnight hair, while Alecto was a fiery redhead, and Tisiphone looked the most innocent with golden-blonde hair and wide, round eyes, which was what made her even more dangerous.
Meg offered Tisiphone a glass and she took it.
I sighed and turned to Meg. “Do you find love to be a true emotion or is it something only humans cling to?”
Tisiphone straightened and narrowed her eyes at me.
Her lips turned down, and she crushed the glass in her hand.
It shattered to pieces and ambrosia flowed over her fingers and pooled on the floor.
She turned and marched from the room. A moment later, an earth-shattering scream came from somewhere deeper in the mountain.
The earth shook and Megaera picked up the bottle from the table as the rest of the contents vibrated to the floor and broke at our feet.
“In three . . . two . . . one . . .”
A loud explosion came next, and the mountain shook even harder. Meg sighed. “If you take my sister’s reaction into consideration, then yes, I’d say love exists in all of its forms.”
I’d only ever experienced the one form of love. “Such as?”
Meg spread out on the couch, stretching out like a cat with one of her wings hanging off the back and the other on the floor. “Well, there’s parental love, love of a friend or family member—”
“Or love of a pet.” Alecto smirked in my direction. “Like the one you keep hidden in your quarters.”
I stiffened and she chuckled. “Relax, your secret stays with us.”
“There’s also unrequited love,” Meg added. “Now that one will drive people to madness and obsession.”
My love for Anastasia was not unrequited. We very much shared our passion for each other. “And true love?”
“True love is nothing but misery.” Tisiphone marched back into the room as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn’t lost her mind at the mention of love.
“And yet there are songs, poems, books, and epic vows all dedicated to love.” Megaera held her glass over her mouth and poured it into her mouth as she remained lying down. Ambrosia spilled over her lips and down her neck.
Tisiphone hissed in her direction and leapt up onto a chair right beside Meg. She crouched down on it like a gargoyle and took a sip. “Love is shit and we all know it.”
“I don’t know it.” Megaera chuckled. “And I’m so glad that I don’t. It seems . . . painful.”
She was not wrong. It was painful. Alecto scoffed. “It just seems time-consuming to me.”
I was completely consumed by Anastasia, that much was also true. “I don’t think you’re wrong.”
“Then why ask the question?” Meg turned to her side, resting her head on her hand.
“I wondered if you think beings like us get to have a life beyond death.” I slouched back in my chair as Anastasia’s face ran through my mind.
“What could be more glorious than death and vengeance?” Megaera motioned to the room as though motioning to the Underworld. “There is nothing more satisfying than that.”
“Orgasms . . . Orgasms are more satisfying.” Tisiphone’s eyes went vacant as though she was remembering something. “There is passion, connection, and feeling as though two can become one.”
“No amount of orgasms are worth the headache and pain of love,” Megaera countered. “If it has wounded you deeply enough.”
“Indeed.” Tisiphone gave her a wistful smile. “But I’ve never felt so alive.”
I knew that feeling well. “Perhaps love trumps death.”
“Death is the only sure thing in life.” Alecto chuckled. “Or that’s how the saying goes.”
“And yet death has not been very sure as of late.” Megaera winked at me.
“I’m steadier than any of the other gods.” I wasn’t wrong. The gods were troublesome at best, and I always did my job.
Megaera waved my words away. “I’ll leave love to songs and stories. There is nothing greater than our job in Tartarus.”
“Agreed.” Alecto raised her glass to Meg. They clanked them together and the glasses cracked along the edges.
I glanced toward Tisiphone, who didn’t raise a glass to Meg’s words. She gave me a light smile, and I tilted my glass in her direction. It was an unspoken understanding between the two of us. No, there was nothing that compared to love, and I would never be happy until I found mine.
“I’ve seen a soul turn over a loved one for mere morsels of food or a small favor.” Megaera chuckled and shook her head. “No love for me. Thanks.”
But that wasn’t real love. I’d never do anything to harm Anastasia. “I’m not sure that’s love.”
“Who cares anyway? Our lives are bound to the Underworld. Always have been and always will be.” Megaera shrugged. “I like the certainty of my future. I know what’s expected, I know what I’m gonna do, and I know how I’m gonna live.”
“But isn’t that kind of . . . boring?” Tisiphone asked in a low tone.
I’d always thought Anastasia brought so much life and excitement to me. With her, nothing was mundane. With her, I loved everything about my existence. Each time I let her go it grew more painful. Even having that brief moment holding her unconscious body was bliss to me.
Meg snorted. “There is nothing boring about my life. I am always finding new and interesting ways to torture others and not myself with such foolish endeavors like love. Am I right?”
Not in the least. I smiled and held my glass to my lips. “I will be entertained when love finally strikes you.”
“How would that happen in the Underworld?” Meg pressed her lips into a hard line. “There’s no way it could, and I’m glad it won’t. Aren’t you?”
“Yes, of course,” I lied. At this point, all I could think was how my role only held me back. For being death was . . . lonely.