Chapter 4
Hades
Pandora’s Box
I love labyrinths, as evidenced by the little nest of lies I built for Persephone. But Pandora’s Box is more than just a maze. It’s a prison. A nightmare. A place where powerful souls are held and tortured.
Which makes me want to leave this place as soon as possible.
Everything here feels wrong. The air is too hot. The smells are too potent. And the walls are complex fabrics that shift every few seconds.
Stone one moment.
Fire the next.
My jaw ticks, my patience wearing thin. I want to return to Serapina, to ensure she’s all right. My brother’s words put me on edge, his concern for her well-being fucking with my head.
Alina felt something.
I don’t know what that means. I need more information. But first, I want to talk to Demeter.
And Ares hasn’t moved a bloody inch since joining us in his maze of horrors.
All he’s doing is staring at me, his irises flickering between black and red.
Exasperated, I look to Morpheus. “Please help me.”
My cousin huffs a laugh. “You’re beyond help, Hades.”
Fuck this, I think. And fuck him.
He’s acting this way toward me because of his assumptions.
Assumptions I can’t exactly fault him for. But it frustrates me that I have to explain myself. I already told him that actions mean more than words.
Unfortunately, though, he seems to have completely misinterpreted my intentions here.
“I don’t want to erase Serapina, Morpheus,” I growl, repeating what I’ve already said. “That’s not how resurrection works. Or not how it should work, anyway. But I won’t know what’s been done to her until I interrogate Demeter.”
I refocus on Ares. Interrogating Demeter requires his assistance. And he hasn’t even flinched, his eyes still on me with a mixture of fury and malice.
I’ve pissed him off.
Well, welcome to the fucking club, I want to tell him. I clearly have a knack for infuriating everyone around me. Perhaps I should have been the God of Irritation and Fury.
Yet, right now, I need to be the God of Patience.
Or perhaps the God of Persuasion, I think, studying Ares’s cold features.
“Demeter has created another realm of existence, a plane of sorts. And she’s holding all the Omega souls captive there.
Or that’s what our mate believes has happened.
I’m tired of guessing. Just as I’m exhausted by the state of our realm.
We’re powerful beings. This reality we’ve found ourselves in is… depressing.”
Ares doesn’t reply, just continues to stare at me. But the red gleam is slowly retreating to the blackness of his irises. And his horns are notably missing from his head now.
I’m not sure if that’s an indication of his Alpha side remaining calm or if it’s related to us being inside his world.
Alas, there isn’t time to ponder further.
Either he’s going to help us willingly, or he’s going to continue making this difficult.
I’m hoping for the former, which is why I add, “If you have any ideas on how to make her talk to us, I would enjoy discussing them. She’s your prisoner.
I respect that. However, she’s used my power to create something that should never have existed.
Thus, I would appreciate an opportunity to question her. ”
Ares finally moves. Not a lot. Just a slight tilt of his head. But it’s enough to confirm that he’s listening.
“I would also appreciate suggestions on how to be persuasive.” It’s a lie. I know exactly how to make someone talk. But Morpheus commented something similar before entering the prison, and Ares responded favorably.
Unfortunately, he simply remains mute now.
My teeth clench.
If he’s going to be an impassable wall, then I’ll just—
“I’m curious,” Morpheus murmurs. “Are the snakes a tribute to your Medusa? Or is that a coincidence in the choice of decor?”
Crimson flashes in Ares’s gaze as his attention slowly moves to Morpheus. “Do not speak her name.” The words are measured. Slow. Deadly. And very unlike Ares’s usual teasing.
My cousin has struck a chord, one that must be ringing angrily inside the other Alpha’s head.
I nearly snort. Because I know how that feels. Morpheus is very good at plucking the chords of others.
“Apologies,” Morpheus replies, his tone one I recognize instantly. Because he’s used it with me countless times.
Which means he doesn’t mean the apology at all.
“I was studying the intricate design of the ceiling while thinking about Demeter’s Omega prison, and the inquiry blossomed in my mind.” He shakes his head. “Anyway.” He waves between me and Ares. “Continue. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Liar, I think. He absolutely meant to “interrupt.” But, for once, I don’t mind. Because he’s trying to help me. Part of me realizes that this isn’t a first, either. Actually, if I’m being honest with myself and our situation, Morpheus has been supporting me for eons.
I just haven’t been very receptive to his brand of assistance.
Having it now is… appreciated.
It’s also somewhat momentous, given that he’s clearly still furious with me over the misunderstanding of my intentions.
Even angry, he’s still coming to my aid.
Or perhaps, more specifically, to Serapina’s aid.
That’s fine. Our mate comes first. Always. And if he’s willing to put negative emotions aside to ensure a better outcome for our Omega, then I respect that.
He’s a good Alpha, I begrudgingly admit to myself, swallowing. Much better than I’ve ever been.
But now isn’t the time to dwell on past mistakes.
I have a future to fix.
A future to protect.
“Please, Ares,” I say, using a word I rarely ever speak. Yet I’ve somehow voiced it twice in a matter of minutes.
Fuck. I barely recognize myself. A groveling Alpha. A desperate fool.
“You think the Omega souls are being held captive,” Ares says slowly. “In a prison?”
“More or less,” Morpheus replies before I can speak. “Serapina says it’s a place of stillness and mentioned that Demeter is holding the souls hostage. I interpreted that to be… prison-like.”
Ares nods. “Yes. Similar to Pandora’s Box.”
“Exactly,” Morpheus says. “Do you think it’s possible she’s borrowed from your brilliant architecture?”
The God of Wrath cuts him a look. “Don’t compliment me, Morpheus. I’m already intrigued. I don’t need your simpering statements. Nor am I a fan of your manipulative tactics.”
Morpheus merely grins. “I would plead innocence, but you know me too well.”
“I do,” Ares mutters. “Which is why I hate that you’ve piqued my interest.”
“Some might say I’m rather skilled at the art of understanding fantasies,” Morpheus muses. “So it only stands to reason that I may also use such gifts to intrigue others, hmm?”
Ares grunts. “I’m about to show you what I’m skilled at.”
“Persuasion and violence, I hope,” Morpheus replies.
“Too fucking right,” Ares returns. “Let’s go.”
The wall beside him morphs into a flaming doorway, one he walks through without a backward glance. I start to move, but Morpheus waves me back with a hand, the gesture near his hip and followed by a pointed look.
A look that resembles a warning.
Frowning, I decide to follow his direction and remain still.
Orcus does as well, the two of us standing shoulder to shoulder as Morpheus follows Ares through the threshold.
When the doorway closes, my frown morphs into a deep scowl.
“Give him a minute,” Orcus says softly, no doubt sensing my rising tension. “Having a mate-circle means trusting each other to put your Omega’s safety first. He won’t do anything to harm Serapina.”
“I know,” I return shortly. “If only he trusted me to do the same.”
“Have you earned his faith, Hades?” Orcus asks, his voice still low and for my ears alone. “Or have several millennia of shutting him out earned you a different sort of reaction from him?”
My jaw ticks. “I’m aware that I’ve failed my circle, brother. I don’t need your commentary on the topic.”
“You haven’t failed them,” he replies, obviously deciding to ignore the second part of my statement. “Failure suggests a permanent outcome. You’re… a work in progress.”
I look at him. “Are you done critiquing me?”
“Probably not,” he admits, meeting my gaze. “I find it rather refreshing to be the one providing advice, old man.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t get used to it, baby brother.”
Rather than meet my words with annoyance, he smiles. “I’m the one with mate-circle experience, Hades. I believe that makes me the expert.”
“He’s not wrong,” Morpheus interjects as the doorway opens up again. “I think you could learn a lot about acceptance from Orcus. But right now, we have a Goddess to interrogate. So…” He waves us forward in a “hurry up” gesture.
I have to bite my tongue to keep from lashing out at the infuriating man. However, a look at Ares’s serious expression makes it a little easier.
“You have no idea how fortunate you are to have Morpheus in your corner” is all the God of Wrath tells me before turning and leading the way.
My lips curl down once more, my brow furrowing as well. “What does he mean by that?” I ask Morpheus.
My cousin merely shrugs. “One never knows with Ares.”
The God of Wrath snorts but doesn’t say anything else, just continues down a dark corridor. Violet lights begin to color the walls as purple flames ignite in Ares’s wake, the fiery display illuminating their waxlike black candle bases.
I admire the fixtures as I move through the doorway with Orcus behind me, then trail after Ares’s steps while observing the shifting walls.
While my labyrinth is encased in stone flowers and skulls, this maze is alive and moving, the corridor writhing with energy and power.
This isn’t my first visit. At least, not to Pandora’s Box. Though, this may be my first time walking this particular corridor. It’s hard to know, as every time I venture into this hellscape, the visage changes.
I suspect it morphs with Ares’s moods, which would explain the inky black lines forming along the walls like throbbing veins.
“This isn’t where I left Demeter,” Orcus comments. “Did you move her cell?”
“Does it matter?” Ares asks, sounding bored.
“Just curious,” Orcus replies.
But I know my brother.
He’s questioning Ares’s intentions. Is he taking us to Demeter? Or somewhere else? Valid questions to ponder in regard to Ares.
“This is my burden to manage,” the God of Wrath returns, then glances back at my brother. “If you have a critique or a complaint, you’re welcome to become the new prison master.”
Orcus grunts. “No, thank you.”
Ares’s resulting grin is tight. “Then don’t voice curious questions. They’re a waste of time.”
My lips twitch at that. I’m fairly certain I uttered a similar sentiment to Morpheus shortly before arriving in the Mythos Fae Realm.
A quick look from Morpheus confirms it, his expression darkly amused. That humored glimmer in his vibrant gaze matches his tone as he muses, “You and Hades should have lunch.”
Ares pauses. “Why the fuck would I want to eat lunch with him?”
“Because your conversation would be fascinating,” Morpheus replies.
“Or end in a bloodbath,” my brother adds.
“Which could also be fascinating,” Morpheus says.
I shake my head. “What’s fascinating is your ability to distract everyone from their purposes here,” I deadpan.
“See, he can be funny,” Morpheus informs Ares.
I’m about to remark on that when Orcus grabs my arm, his eyes flashing red. “Alina.”
The world shifts around me in a blink as he takes me out of Pandora’s Box and away from the Mythos Fae Realm. His name is a curse that taunts my tongue as the world materializes around us.
Only, that curse ends in an empathic “Fuck” when the scene unfolds before me.
Flame is in jaguar form, crouched protectively over Thea.
Reaper is covered in blood with an unconscious Alina in his arms.
And before them is a pile of unconscious Mythos Fae Betas.
I stare at it, then at the world around us.
“You never left the Human Realm,” I say, recognizing the Mediterranean coastline.
Orcus frowns. “We did, actually.” He steps forward, then jumps back as the vision before us shifts into smoke.
My lips part. A mirage. It’s all a fucking mirage.
“Where the fuck did they go?” Orcus demands, spinning around. “I can’t feel them.” His red eyes meet mine, his Alpha fully engaged. “Hades… I can’t feel my mates.”