Page 5 of A Touch of Chaos

CHAPTER II

HADES

The burn in his wrists woke him. The headache splitting his skull made opening his eyes nearly impossible, but he tried, groaning, his thoughts shattering like glass. He had no ability to pick at the pieces, to recall how he had gotten here, so he focused instead on the pain in his body—the metal digging into the raw skin on his wrists, the way his nails pierced his palm, the way his fingers throbbed from being curled into themselves when they should be coiled around Persephone’s ring.

The ring. It was gone.

Hysteria built inside him, a fissure that had him straining against his manacles, and he finally tore open his eyes to find that he was restrained in a small, dark cell. As he dangled from the ceiling, body draped in the same heavy net that had sent him to the ground in the Minotaur’s prison, he knew he was not alone.

He stared into the darkness, uneasy, aware that whatever magic existed there was his own, and yet it feltsomehow foreign, likely because though he called to it, he could not summon it.

“I know you’re there,” Hades said. His tongue felt swollen in his mouth.

In the next second, Theseus appeared, having pulled the Helm of Darkness from his head. He cradled the weapon in his arm, smirking.

“Theseus,” Hades growled, though even to him, his voice sounded weak. He was so tired and so full of pain, he could not vocalize the way he wished. Otherwise, he would rage.

“I’d hoped to make a more dramatic entrance,” said the demigod, his aqua eyes gleaming. Hades hated those eyes, so like Poseidon’s. “But you always were a killjoy.”

Dread tightened Hades’s chest, though he worked not to show a single ounce of fear. He hated that he even felt the threat of such an emotion in the presence of Theseus, but he had to know how the demigod had come into possession of his helm.

“How did you get it?”

“Your wife led me right to it,” Theseus said. “I told you I only needed to borrow her.”

Hades had many questions, but he asked the most pressing.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

“I must confess, I lost track of her,” Theseus said airily, as if he had not been in possession of the thing Hades loved most in this world.

He jerked forward. He wanted to wrap his hands around Theseus’s neck and squeeze until he felt his bones break beneath his hands, but the weight of the net made movement nearly impossible. It was as if he weresuffocating instead. His chest heaved as he worked to catch his breath.

Theseus chuckled and Hades glared at him, his eyes watering from exertion. He had never felt so weak. In truth, he had neverbeenthis weak.

“Last time I saw her, she was fighting her mother in the Underworld. I wonder who won.”

“I will kill you, Theseus,” Hades said. “That is an oath.”

“I have no doubt you will try, though I think you will have a difficult time given your current state.”

Hades’s rage ignited, burning him from the inside out, but he could do nothing—not move or summon his power.

This, he thought,must be what it is like to be mortal. It was terrible.

Theseus smirked and then held up the helm, studying it.

“This is an intriguing weapon,” he said. “It made it entirely too easy to enter Tartarus.”

“It sounds like you wish to boast, Theseus,” said Hades, glaring. “So why don’t you get it over with?”

“It is not boasting at all,” Theseus replied. “I am paying you a courtesy.”

“By breaking into my realm?”

“By letting you know that I have released your father from Tartarus.”

“My father?” Hades repeated, unable to keep the surprise from his voice. He could not describe exactly how he felt, only that this news left him feeling numb. If he’d had the energy to move, it would have stopped him in his tracks.

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