Page 24 of Chaos Unleashed

I answer him like he is real because that’s how I’ve treated him so far, “It’s okay, I know that. The Helliers aren’t giving me any grief, I actually haven’t seen any of them, it’s the fucking princes.” As soon as I mention them his expression darkens, and becomes something a whole lot more deadly, I get the feeling that he’s not a fan of the Princes although if what he said is true about being Hades right hand man, then he probably has more reason to hate them than anyone.

“Fucking cowards, the lot of them, and not nearly as powerful as they think they are,” he rants.

My eyebrows rise with interest, “Well, I can't say that I don't agree with you; their magic is pretty fucking strong when you can't fight back. Of course, the fact that they won't allow me to fight is more proof that they're cowards.”

After that, the conversation changes to lighter topics, and we spend what seems like hours just talking about everything and nothing. I learned that his favourite meal is a dish called Levenrethata, which he described as a kind of meat stew with vegetables that are only found in the Underworld, and in specific his hometown. He said he’d missed it, the stew, not his hometown, although he didn’t elaborate on why he didn’t miss it.

“I’m also not good when I get bored,” he adds.

“In what way?” I ask, sounding confused.

“Erm, I guess I get a bit stabby and bit plotting my enemy's deaths, that sort of thing,” he admits.

I chuckle, “Doesn’t sound like a problem to me.”

“You’re probably the only person that would think that,” he replies with a soft smile as he lifts one knee up and rests his arm around it, “even Hades used to be wary, and I got bored. I have somewhat of a grey moral compass.”

“Me too,” I admit. “Plus, I think it’s impressive that even Hades is worried about you getting bored.”

He chuckles, his laughter warm and somehow helping to heal me even more than his magic is already doing.

Chapter Nine

Farren

“Yeah, I don’t really do friends, but Hades is more than that anyway. He’s my brother. We’ve been through things that you probably couldn’t even comprehend, wars and torture,” he pauses, a dark expression crossing his features, “I don’t think I will ever forgive myself for not seeing the Princes plan when I had the chance. I could’ve stopped it all. He went through hell.”

I almost say I know, but I don’t know, not really. I mean, even if Grey is Hades, he went through shit before he ended up in a cell opposite mine, and I don’t know anything about that. I do know that what he went through when he was near me was hell. Worse than hell.

“If you are as close with him as you’ve said, then he’s going to forgive you,” I reply, trying to make him feel better.

H smiles, “He probably doesn’t even realise that he needs to forgive me.”

“Well, there you go.”

“I should’ve been there,” he mutters.

Strangely enough, I get a ping of intuition, “They probably planned to have you out of the way; they most likely knew that they wouldn’t be able to trap Hades with you around, and that’s why they did it when you were in another realm.”

He stays silent and doesn’t reply, but I think that he’s at least heard my words because he doesn’t immediately refute them. When it’s clear that he’s gotten lost in his own mind, I try to think of something to say to distract him from his thoughts and keep the conversation going because it's helping to distract me from the fact that I’m probably going to have to go back to my hell soon.

I’ve had this reprieve for far too long now, and my pain levels are more than manageable, thanks to H and his healing magic. Suddenly, some of what he said sinks in.

“Wait,” I say, gaining his attention and pulling him out of his thoughts. “You said wars, as in more than one? How old are you?”

H chuckles, the sound chasing away the shadows that were darkening his eyes thanks to our previous conversation, “Ren, I’m going to be brutally honest with you right now; I have no idea. I’m old enough that I stopped counting.”

“Wow,” I mutter in reply. I mean, I expected him to be old; he’s Hades’ right-hand demon, and he had to have earned that spot in the first place, which would have taken time. Then he would’ve had to have been in the role for a while to earn Hades' friendship as well, so it would stand to reason that he’s old, but old enough not to remember how old you are is pretty crazy to me. “So, in all of those years what was your favourite birthday?” I ask him, wanting to keep the conversation light.

He shrugs, “I’ve never really had a birthday to celebrate. I’ve just got a year older. I don’t think even Hades knows my birthday.”

“Seriously?” I ask, and then, because we’re sharing anyway, I add, “I haven’t either, not really. My uncle would try to sneak me some cake if he could and always try to wish me at least a happy birthday, but my father tried to keep me as isolated as possible, especially on my birthday. He liked me to know how alone and helpless I really was.”

H growls, clearly not liking my words but then again who would? It’s not exactly pleasant.

“From your words and the sting of pain that accompanied them and most likely the memories of remembered pain, I can tell that there is a lot more to the story. I’m not going to ask, but I do want to tell you that a man who can treat his own daughter how I suspect he treated you doesn’t deserve to live.” His words are harsh and full of a dark promise.

Even though I know he can’t see me, I grin and say, “He is dead. I killed him.”

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