Page 30 of A Touch of Chaos

Though the crowd was loud and most of the voices unclear, a few vicious words reached her ears—a chant that made her blood run cold.

“Death to all gods! Death to all gods!Death to all gods!”

CHAPTER VIII

HADES

Hades flexed his fingers around another stone, his joints stiff from mud and overuse. His back ached as he carried the heavy brick from the ancient floor to the high labyrinth wall where he added it to the final row of steps he had built. He hoped they would hold his weight long enough so that he could reach the top of the wall and get his bearings to plan his escape.

He was not sure how long he had been at this, but he was fueled by the taste of Persephone on his tongue. He did not care to think long on how she had come to be before him, but if Theseus had intended to torture him, her visage had the opposite effect.

“I will pry a stone from your lover’s ring each time you stop,” he’d threatened.

In truth, Hades had never ceased to work; he had merely chosen a different project. One would have thought Theseus would be far more careful with his words. Though it was not as if he were a man of his word.

Despite this, Hades was under no delusion. He knew the reputation of Daedalus’s labyrinth. Even the famed architect could barely escape his own creation—such was the folly of man, to create the thing that destroyed him—which was why Hades had not entered the labyrinth.

It was better to observe as much from above than to get lost attempting to navigate a nearly impossible trap.

And he imagined Theseus’s maze would be even more challenging.

Perhaps he had not even made it escapable.

But Hades had to try.

If only he was at his full strength…

If you were at full strength, you wouldn’t be here, he snapped at himself.

It did no good to think of what he could do with magic. With this net draped around his body, he was essentially mortal.

He had never been so aware of physical pain, never so aware of the weight of anything, save Persephone.

AlwaysPersephone.

His wife and queen.

He grew anxious thinking about her. Theseus had said the last time he had seen her, she’d faced Demeter. What had come from that confrontation? He hated that he did not know, hated that he could not sense anything beyond this prison. It would not even matter if he were free of the net. This place was made from adamant, and it suppressed his magic.

Theseus had thought of everything when he’d laid his trap, and perhaps that was what worried Hades the most, because he knew Persephone would come for him. Theseus knew that too, and Hades would neverforgive himself if she ended up in this hell.

That thought renewed his determination, and he began his ascent. He’d made the steps steep, and they wobbled beneath his feet. The higher he went, the more he clung to the next stone as if it might keep him from falling. It was another thing he had never thought much about but now dreaded—the fear of falling, of feeling pain.

His muscles tightened as if anticipating his failure.

When he reached the highest step, he rose to his trembling feet, palms sliding over the coarse stone, stretching until he could reach the top of the wall. He tested his grip and lifted himself, arms shaking. When he managed to get his upper body on the top of the wall, he led with his injured side.

“Fuck!” he barked, the pain sharp and biting. He seethed between clenched teeth as he dragged the rest of his body onto the wall and collapsed.

He lay there for a moment, breathing hard and sweating before he sat up, pressing a hand to his side, slick with blood, and looked out over the labyrinth.

He’d hoped from here he might have an idea of how to escape this fucking pit, but what unfolded before him was a vast network of tunnels that stretched for miles, disappearing into the darkness. This place did not appear to have an end or beginning.

Still, it seemed better to go over the labyrinth than through it.

He was going to have to pick a route and pray to the Fates.

Gods, he was really fucking desperate.

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