The air stirred at his back and without looking he knew his wife stood behind him, waiting for his attention.
“I take it you’ve returned with news.”
“Yes, my lord,” she said in a sickeningly sweet tone. A tone he knew was meant to placate and deceive. “You were right. She went after the Argonaut in Tartarus.”
He turned Persephone’s way. She stood five feet from him, her fall of silky black hair framing her powerful shoulders to hit near her narrow waist. As a god herself, she was near his height at close to seven feet, and her flawless skin and ruby red lips drew his attention as they always did. The daughter of Demeter, the goddess of fertility, Persephone was every god’s—and human’s—wet dream. His included. Even after all these long thousands of years, she was still the only female he desired day after long, miserable day. Not that he didn’t occasionally want—or take—others, but when it came down to it, she was his. In every sense of the word.
He narrowed his eyes on her smiling face, knew, as he always did, that she was scheming to get the Orb and rule the human realm herself.
Getting his hands on the Orb was turning into a clusterfuck of missed opportunities, but that’s what made this whole thing fun. And he’d gotten so bored with the torturing-souls thing. He was enjoying the chase as much as he would enjoy the moment he had the Orb and all four elements and could say fuck you to the Fates and every other god—including his two brothers. Every other god except his beloved wife. The wife who was as devoted to him as he was to her, and who would never stop scheming for a way to take charge as his master.
A wicked smile curled one side of his mouth as his gaze roamed her luscious body from head to toe. He had to love a woman who could match him in wickedness. Clasping his hands against his spine, he took a step down the three marble stairs. “So she’s found the Argonaut Gryphon within Tartarus. What does she plan to do with him?”
Persephone turned as he walked by her toward a window that looked out on his realm. Lava boiled and popped, jagged black mountains rose in the distance. And like a breath of air, the moaning of souls being tortured in the most horrendous ways floated like a song on the breeze. “She’s taken him to Sin City.”
With his enhanced eyesight, he could see a soul far across the valley, in the center of a circle of rabid dogs, about to be devoured whole. Hades’s energy thrived on each soul he obtained, and his powers grew every time a soul was tortured within his realm. In this case, the man had enjoyed great wealth from the underground dog-fighting ring he’d run in the human realm. It didn’t bother Hades in the least to know that reliving those fights, with the human as the victim, again and again and again was a just and fair punishment for the man. In all likelihood, it was probably better than he deserved.
“Sin City, you say?” His gaze scanned this level of the Underworld. A good distance from Tartarus, where Atalanta was now scheming with the fallen Argonaut. He had no doubt she’d make the Argonaut Gryphon her bitch in every sense of the word. He knew all too well how she fucked not only with a male’s body, but his mind. While the sex had been hot enough, the aftermath with his wife, when she’d learned he’d lost the Orb, had been less than stellar. The question was, what did Atalanta plan to do with the Argonaut? She hadn’t been sentenced to the Underworld herself. She’d simply been trapped in the Fields of Asphodel by her son and his witchcraft. But it was clear she planned to use the Argonaut to her advantage. Somehow.
“Yes,” Persephone answered. “She was granted access to Sin City, and word is she’s meeting with Krónos soon.”
Hades had no doubt his father would relish a go at Atalanta. The bitch was hot. But she was also unpredictable. And Hades didn’t put it past her to use her feminine charms on Krónos to get what she wanted. Which was undoubtedly to find a way back to the human realm and to get her hands on that Orb.
Unfortunately, the area Krónos and his Titan goons had set up in Tartarus was the one and only part of the Underworld Hades couldn’t see into. Which meant he didn’t know what they did in their depraved corner of hell. Knowing his good ol’ dad, though, it was as immoral and degenerate as it could get, not that Hades cared. So long as the bastard stayed locked down there, things were fine. It was the wild card Atalanta and what she might promise Krónos that left Hades with a bitter taste in his mouth. “We have someone on the inside?”
“Tantalus is there.”
Tantalus. The human who’d cut up his son Pelops, boiled him into a soup, and served it to the Olympians when he’d been invited to join them for a meal. One corner of Hades’s mouth curled at the image of that banquet. Tantalus had been condemned to Tartarus by Zeus himself, but Hades had granted the soul special privileges other inhabitants didn’t have, simply because he loved the fact Tantalus had had the balls to pull that one over on Zeus and the other egomaniac Olympians.
“Tantalus is perfect. I want to know exactly what she has planned.”
“Yes, my lord,” Persephone said.
Hades turned back to his wife, moved close to her. She didn’t cower from him, and he liked that. Every other female cowered because they knew what to expect. Persephone loved his perversion.
She braced her hands on his forearms as he slid his arms around her waist and dragged her close, as he sank his teeth into her neck and drew the sweetest taste of her blood. Blood and pain and desire swelled in his mouth to heighten his need for her.
“There is one other thing,” Persephone said, tipping her head to grant him more access.
“Mm?” He ran his tongue over the bite mark, healing it with his powers, then taking another bite from her flesh in a more delectable spot.
“This part you might not like.”
He lifted his head, stared down into her emerald eyes. “Tell me.”
She never once looked away, but he saw the quick flash of fear before she masked it with steel resolve. Something else he admired about her. Even when she knew she was going to piss him off, she didn’t back down. She’d meet his fury head-on even when it left her battered and bruised.
“Orpheus has found Maelea.”
The slow, red rage he always felt when the bastard child’s name was mentioned slid through his veins and pummeled his chest. He’d banished her to the human realm, couldn’t kill her because those fucking Fates had meddled where they shouldn’t be meddling. But he wished only for that stain to die. While he didn’t have a problem with his wife screwing around on the side, the reminder that his brother Zeus had succeeded in seducing his wife right here in his realm and had created a child with her was a humiliation not even Hades could forget.
He dropped his hands, moved back mere inches. Never took his eyes off his treacherous wife. She was to blame too. Still was to blame. “And?”
She drew a deep breath. “And I sent hellhounds to stop him, but they got away.”
Hades looked past his wife to the marble relief again. Only this time all he saw was betrayal, not victory. A betrayal he would douse with vengeance. “And the bastard?”
Persephone frowned. “My daughter is not a bastard. But yes, she got away with him. I didn’t send the hounds there to harm her.”
No, of course not. Persephone loved that fucking stain. Even though that love made Hades hurt his wife time and again.
“What would he want with the bastard?”
“I don’t know.”
Hades looked back at her, only this time he didn’t see his wife’s beauty anymore. He saw deception of the most calculated kind.
“Find out,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Of course, my lord,” she said in that sickeningly sweet voice again. The one that this time energized his anger. “Anything for you, love.”
She turned for the door, and for a second he thought of stopping her, of dragging her back by her hair and bending her over the altar behind him to punish her. But he didn’t. Because right now he had more important things than her insolence to deal with.
When she was gone, he snapped his fing
ers. The four-foot-tall troll-like creature emerged from a small door hidden in the wall and dragged a lame foot behind him as he scuffed across the floor. He stopped to look up at Hades with his green scaly hands and twisted, too-long nails pressed together in subservience. “Yes, my lord.”
“Orcus, where is that stain Maelea?”
It was Orcus’s one job in this realm to monitor Maelea for Hades at all times. If Zeus so much as made even the most minute contact with the girl, Hades had just cause to strike her down. It was an agreement he’d made with Lachesis, that meddling Fate, when he’d cast Maelea out of his realm and banished her to the human world eons ago. He’d waited and watched for that opportunity, but so far, over three thousand years later, Zeus hadn’t shown even an ounce of interest in his bastard daughter. But perhaps now, monitoring her might come in useful after all.
“She’s on a train, heading east.”
A train heading east. Hades looked out the window again at the depravity he’d worked so hard to create, all within the Underworld. For the last two hundred years or so, Maelea had taken up refuge in the Seattle area. She ventured out, but she stayed close to home. Until now, that is. “With Orpheus.”
“Yes, my lord. There’s also a Siren with them.”
Hades whipped around. “A Siren? Which one?”
“Skyla.”
The eldest and most fierce of Zeus’s assassins. Oh, this just got better and better. Zeus was after the Orb too, it seemed, and he was using his Sirens to track Orpheus, then no doubt take the Orb by force when they found it. But why would Orpheus need Maelea?
He rubbed a hand over the patch of hair covering his chin as he thought through the possibilities. Maelea had no powers. At least none he was aware of. But what if she was somehow linked to that Orb? He wouldn’t put it past his brother Zeus to bestow on her some gift the King of the Gods could one day use to his full advantage.
He dropped his hand. “Send the hounds.”
“They’re on a train, my lord. Traveling at rapid speed.”
“I’ll deal with the train. Have the hounds kill Orpheus and the Siren. But leave Maelea to me.”
“But the Fate, my lord—”
He slashed Orcus a look that struck fear to the center of the scaly creature’s soul. “The Fate cannot interfere because I won’t harm the bastard child. I have other plans for her. Now stop asking asinine questions and do as you’re instructed.”
When Orcus slithered away, Hades looked back out at his view, clasped his hands behind his back, and scanned the flaming red horizon. No doubt Lachesis would be pissed he’d sent the hounds to kill her precious Orpheus, but he could handle the loss of Orpheus’s soul. Yes, the soul of a hero had been a prize worth fighting for over thousands of years, but for the chance to find the Orb and rule what was rightfully his, Hades would gladly go back on the deal he’d made to give the hero a second chance at life. He didn’t care what role Lachesis claimed Orpheus played in the balance of the world. All he cared about was getting his just due.
And after all, some things required sacrifice. Even on his part.
Chapter 9
Maelea lay still as stone as the door to the stateroom flew open and clanged shut again. She held her breath and listened, wondering if Skyla and Orpheus were about to pick up where they’d left off. Feet shuffled, the steady in-and-out breaths of one mouth floated in the air. Followed by a muttered “Skata.”
When a thwack sounded from below, she peeled her eyelids apart and tried to see what was going on. From her vantage on the top bunk she could just see Orpheus standing in the center of the room with his hands on his hips, staring down at Skyla’s leather armor, which was strewn across the floor near the wall.
Obviously, things had not gone so well out in the hall.
“I know you’re awake up there, Ghoul Girl, so stop holding your breath.”
Maelea still hadn’t decided what she thought of Orpheus. Yeah, he’d saved her from Hades’s underlings back at her house, but he hadn’t done it for her. He’d done it because he wanted something from her. Kidnapping was kidnapping, no matter the reason.
She pushed up to sitting on the top bunk, drew her legs to her chest, and wrapped her arms around herself as she glared down at him. Outside, the moonlit snow-covered mountains sped by, an eerie sea of light and shadow.
Orpheus frowned up at her. “Stop looking at me like I’m going to eat you alive. Have I yet?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean you’re not planning to at some point.”
“Nice comeback, Ghoul Girl. There’s hope for you yet.”
He flopped down into the chair he’d been sitting in before, tapped his long masculine fingers against the armrest. They sat in silence for several minutes, the rhythmic rocking of the train and wheels clanking along the tracks the only sounds. Finally, when she couldn’t stand it anymore, she worked up the courage to ask the one thing she needed to know. “Where are you taking me?”
“Montana.”
“You said that already. Where in Montana?”
“A friend’s place.”
“What friend?”
He scowled up at her. “Does it matter?”
“To me it does. You’ve made me a prisoner.”
His gaze shifted back to the empty bottom bunk. “No, Ghoul Girl, Hades and your precious pop made you a prisoner. I’ve just changed your holding cell.”
Anger welled in Maelea’s chest but she pressed her chin to her knees to keep from antagonizing him. Though it burned, what he said was true. Hades and Zeus had both made her a prisoner in this realm. No one cared for her. No one looked out for her. She was alone in every sense of the word.
“Look,” Orpheus said. “We’re going to be there soon. Things will go a lot smoother if you just tell me right now where that sonofabitch warlock is. Then I can be on my way.”
She knew exactly which warlock he was talking about. And why Orpheus wanted to find him. But she knew if she told him what he wanted to know, he’d be gone and she’d still be held captive. Wherever the hell he planned to leave her. Her anger swelled at the way she was being treated like a prisoner. She lifted her head to tell him to go to hell when she sensed a vibration radiating from deep inside the earth.
For a second, she didn’t move. But when she felt it again, she jumped off the upper berth and rushed to the window. The vibration grew stronger until it shook her very core.
“Stop the train. We have to stop the train!”
“What?” Orpheus pushed to his feet as she rushed past him.
She pulled open the stateroom door, looked right and left. At the far end of the corridor, near the rear door, she spotted the emergency brake box mounted to the wall.
She took two steps. His hand wrapped around her bicep and jerked her to a stop. She whipped around, tugged at her arm. “Let me go!”
“What the hell are you doing?”
“An earthquake’s coming. We have to stop the train.”
Orpheus’s brows drew together. “How do you—?”
“Because I felt it!” she yelled. “Who’s the one person in the bowels of the earth who wants to stop you from reaching your destination?”
Understanding dawned in his eyes. He ducked his head back under the stateroom door, looked to the windows. And she knew he saw exactly what she did—they were coming up on a mountain pass. The valley they’d just traveled through would soon close down into a narrow gap where miles and miles of snow would be easily dislodged from those peaks under the force of a god-induced earthquake and bury not only this train but everything in its path.
“Shit.” He let go of her and sprinted to the end of the car.
She followed, her breaths fast and labored as he searched the box.
“Turn away,” he commanded.
Maelea covered her face and whipped around. Glass shattered at her back. She looked over her shoulder just as he reached inside the broken box and grasped the emergency stop cord.
“Hold on to me!” He grippe
d a curved metal railing near the door with one hand. With nothing else for her to grasp, she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head in his massive chest.
No alarm sounded, but the shriek of metal against metal as the brakes were applied was so loud, it rang with the shriek of a thousand Muses screaming. Orpheus wrapped his free arm around her shoulder, held her close. The train jerked violently and threw them around the corridor like jumping beans in a can.
Maelea slammed her eyes shut and screamed but didn’t dare let go. Pain ricocheted through her limbs. When the shaking finally stopped and she opened her eyes, she realized they were on the floor in the corridor, Orpheus’s big body cocooned around her like a protective blanket. The train had completely stopped. She looked up to see he was still holding on to the metal safety bar above.
“Holy shit,” he muttered. “You’d better be right or we’re gonna get our asses thrown off this train.”
Maelea opened her mouth to tell him she was more than right, but stopped short when she heard a rumble that was not the train. Low at first, and growing in intensity with every passing second.
“Fuck me,” Orpheus muttered, climbing to his feet and hauling her with him. He dragged her back into the stateroom. “Grab your coat.” He rushed to the window and pulled up on the red plastic emergency release lever at the bottom of the window.
The vibrations inside Maelea grew at an exponential rate. She located her jacket and tugged it on.
The strip of rubber along the bottom of the window peeled free. Orpheus threw it behind him, then grasped the metal handle attached to the bottom of the window and pulled up on that too. The window opened inward, separated from the hinge above. Using both hands, Orpheus grasped the entire thing and pulled it out of the way, tossing it on the floor against the wall.
“Attention passengers,” a voice echoed over the speaker system. “The train has come to a complete stop. Please remain in your seats while we tend to the delay.”