Chapter 24 Hades
Hades
I've existed for millennia, and there are just a few moments of time when I've felt true helplessness.
The last time was when Persephone faded in my arms.
And while I don't feel the same soul crushing depression, I'm pretty fucking close.
I'm teetering between insanity and anger, and I can't focus fully.
"Anything?" I demand as another shade materializes in the center of my living room, its form barely held together from the force of my summons.
"No, my lord." The spirit bows low, trembling. "We've searched every street, every alley, every shadow between here and the edge of the city. There's no trace of her."
I dismiss it with a snarl, watching it dissolve gratefully back into darkness. My hands curl into fists at my sides, shadows writhing around my knuckles like living things.
Two hours.
She's been gone for two fucking hours, and no matter what I do, I cannot locate her.
The bond that should connect us is there, but it's not helping me much. It's still too new, and while it allows me to feel her life force, I can't pinpoint her location.
I press my palm against my sternum, willing the bond to solidify, to give me something, anything. Things remain the same: a small thrum of power letting me know she's alive, and nothing else.
"You need to take a breath," Hecate says from her position by the window. She's been coordinating the search with her usual efficiency, but I can hear the concern threading through her voice. "You're burning through power fast, too fast."
"I'm fine," I snap. "I've got power to spare."
She turns to face me, twilight eyes hard. "You've sent out more shades in the last hour than I've seen since the ancient days. Your reserves aren't infinite, Hades. You need to conserve your power just in case—"
I pace across the room, unable to stay still. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to move, to search, to tear this city apart brick by brick until I find her. "She's out there somewhere. Alone. Vulnerable. And I can't—"
My voice breaks.
I can't protect her.
The thought makes my vision go dark at the edges, shadows exploding around me in response to the surge of panic and rage. I want to shift into my natural form: shadows and ash. But I don't. I'd lose any sense of my human mind, and I need to be able to think.
"The girl's tougher than you think. She probably just needed space after you fucked up," Poseidon says from his position on the couch. He's been sprawled out drinking for the past two hours, contributing very little.
Zeus laughs, and the sound grates on my nerves. "Considering how her vines nearly tore me apart, I think you are underestimating her."
"This is your fucking fault," I storm towards him, more power leaking from me. "You couldn't keep your fucking mouth shut, and now my wife is out there, vulnerable to the cult we are all trying to avoid."
Zeus glares, but he doesn't use his powers against me. Interesting. "Don't blame me for this," he sneers. "You decided to fuck your sweet little goddess, who doesn't remember anything by the way, and then keep the truth from her. You have no one to blame but yourself for this."
I want to kill him.
Want to wrap shadows around his throat and squeeze until his divine essence fractures and fades.
But he's right, and that makes it worse.
I fucked up.
"In the future, you may not want to fuck her before you're up front with things," Hecate's tone is sharp, and I glare at her.
"You agree with him?"
Hecate sneers. "No," she says. "I'm on her side."
Zeus chuckles. "And fuck you," she snaps at him. "For pretending to be more than a selfish asshole."
Zeus pouts and presses his hand to his chest, as though he's been wounded.
"You don't get to play the victim here, Hades. You had a chance to be honest with her. To treat her like a partner instead of a possession. And you chose to keep her in the dark because you thought you knew better."
Every word is a blade between my ribs.
Because she's right.
I did know better. I've had two thousand years to plan, to strategize, to figure out how to keep Persephone safe when she finally returned to me. I didn't keep her safe though. Because I was too scared to lose her.
The irony isn't lost on me.
"I'll help you find her." Zeus's offer makes my head snap up. "I have resources. Contacts in the mortal world that even you don't have access to. Let me make some calls, coordinate with—"
"Why?" Suspicion coils through me, cold and certain. "To kill her."
His expression doesn't change, but something flickers in his eyes. "Because despite what you think of me, brother, I do take family seriously."
"Since when?" Poseidon asks.
Zeus inhales sharply. "Since you are determined to keep her, I'm not interested in her falling into the cult's possession. You are correct. She's vulnerable, which makes me vulnerable."
Poseidon laughs, and I glare. "What?" He holds up his hands. "It's classic. We all know Zeus isn't able to do anything for the greater good."
Zeus holds my gaze for a long moment.
"Fine," I sneer. "Make whatever calls you need to."
He nods, pulling out his phone.
"I'll make the calls from outside. Give you space to think."
He moves toward the door, and I track his every step.
"Do you trust him?" Poseidon asks.
"No."
"Good." He sits up, some of the casual affect dropping away. "Because that was the most transparent manipulation I've seen in centuries, and I helped him overthrow our father."
"He's up to something," I mutter, pressing my palm against my chest again. Still nothing from the bond. Still that aching, terrible emptiness where Ophelia should be. "He's always—"
Pain explodes through my chest.
Not physical pain. Something deeper, more fundamental. The bond, which I thought was weak, flares bright and hot.
And through it, I feel her.
Terror. Agony.
Her life force being pulled, drained, ripped away by something ancient and hungry.
"Hades?" Hecate's voice sounds distant, muffled.
I try to answer, but the bond is shrieking at me, showing me fragments. Ophelia's face, pale and desperate. Hands on her chest, pulling. Cold spreading through her veins like poison.
She's dying, fading.
My knees hit the floor as I try to take air into my lungs. My body is erupting in pain, but it's not my pain. It's Ophelia's.
"Hades!" Hecate is at my side in an instant, hands on my shoulders. "What's happening? What do you feel?"
"The bond." The words tear from my throat. "She's — something's draining her. Killing her. I can feel—"
Then it's gone.
Snapped away like a severed thread, leaving me gasping on my knees with shadows exploding around me in violent, chaotic bursts.
"Where?" Poseidon is on his feet now, all pretense of relaxation abandoned. "Can you locate her?"
"No." Frustration and terror war in my chest. "It was only a second. Not long enough to—"
The bond flickers again.
This time I'm ready for it, reaching desperately for the connection, trying to follow it back to its source. But it's like trying to hold water, there and gone before I can grasp it.
Pain. Fear. Cold.
Panic flares inside of me. I know what this is, what is happening. I've felt it before.
"No." I force myself to my feet. "No, I need to—"
The windows explode inward, and all three of us are thrown off our feet from the force of a blast.
Glass, plaster, and the acrid smell of burning sage fill the room as cultists pour through the opening. Not just a few. Dozens of them, dressed in white robes with wheat stalks embroidered on the hems.
An assault.
"Behind you!" Hecate's warning comes just in time for me to dodge the knife aimed at my spine.
I spin, reaching for my power, ready to pull shadows and death and reduce these mortals to—
Nothing happens.
I reach for the well of divine power that should respond instantly to my will, and I find only emptiness. Not drained. Not blocked. Just absent.
"What the fuck?" Poseidon's voice carries the same shock I feel. He's staring at his hands like they've betrayed him. "I can't access my power."
"Neither can I." Hecate's twilight eyes are wide with something I've rarely seen on her face.
Fear.
"Then we fight like mortals." I grab the closest cultist by the throat, physical strength alone enough to lift him off his feet. "And we make them regret coming here."
The penthouse descends into chaos as my brother and sister engage in combat.
We may not have our powers, but we are still gods, which means we are stronger, faster, and more durable than any mortal. But there are so many of them, and they're coordinated in a way that speaks of planning and training.
They knew we'd be vulnerable. They'd been counting on it.
Somehow, these cultists realized we'd be powerless, and they decided to take their chance.
That knowledge fuels me, and I make it hurt when I get my hands on them.
I break a cultist's arm, throw another through what's left of my coffee table.
Beside me, Hecate fights with brutal efficiency, using weapons she pulls from the attackers themselves.
Poseidon laughs as he fights, looking more alive than I've seen him in centuries, blood on his knuckles and feral joy in his eyes.
But it's wrong.
All of this is wrong.
The bond keeps flickering, moments of connection where I feel Ophelia growing weaker, her life force being systematically drained away. Then nothing. Then back again.
It's torture.
Worse than torture.
Because I can feel her coming in and out, and yet I'm not with her.
Instead, I'm doing hand-to-hand with fucking mortals, and I am fucking pissed.
A cultist comes at me with a blessed knife, the kind that can actually hurt a god if wielded with enough faith. I catch his wrist, twist until bones crack, and use his own momentum to drive the blade into his companion's chest.
Bodies litter my floor.
Blood soaks into expensive carpets.
"Enough!" Hecate's voice cuts through the chaos. She moves swiftly, and I watch as she cuts down the remaining cultist with her power.