Page 12 of Patron of Mercy

“Can Mom come?”

“Someday,” he agreed. He looked over at the woman and felt nothing like a pull. He wasn’t one of those gods cursed to see the future, but he didn’t think she was slated to see him anytime soon. “But not today.”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

He smiled at her. “Then you won’t be.”

She smiled back and took his hand.

He watched the girl play with half a dozen other children in Elysium, all of them waiting for their parents. It would be like a very long day in the sun, playing tag and exploring and eating sweets, and then their parents would come and call for them, one by one.

People always wanted to put off going to Elysium for as long as possible, but Thanatos thought that if they knew it like he did, they would be less hesitant.

When he had realized Lach had been made immortal, he had been sorry for him. Living forever, toiling eternally with pain and frustration, seemed like more of a punishment than a gift. He didn’t know why gods were always sharing immortality with their favored humans. It felt like a selfish gift—one more for themselves than the mortals. A small part of him wanted to give everyone the gift of Elysium.

He supposed that was what made him Death, and what made him incomprehensible and awful to humanity.

What made Lach run from him.

What would always make him turn away eventually, even if he needed Thanatos’s help today.

He lost himself in work, seeing to one soul after another, even many who didn’t need him, to try to forget that he was meeting Lach the next evening. Seeing him was always going to be little more than a reminder that Lach wasn’t, couldn’t ever be, in love with him.

He tried to harden his heart. He couldn’t let himself be broken again. He didn’t want to put that on Charon, and Charon was the most sympathetic of all his brothers and sisters. Goodness knew Eris wasn’t going to offer a shoulder to cry on, unless she was amused by his pain.

The Hunt Building was not a place Thanatos could transport himself to. It was the central location for vampires in New York, and they were an opposing force to his own: creatures who were already dead and would never go to Elysium peacefully. Lach would probably love them.

He chose the closest cemetery in Manhattan and walked the distance, taking the time to stop and get a drink, sauntering rather than walking with purpose. He was putting off getting there, of course, and he knew it.

Prometheus was his friend. Had always been his friend. He had agreed to aid Prometheus’s creations, humanity, to their peaceful rest. Prometheus was bright and clever and one of the best, most loyal companions anyone could have.

And Thanatos had allowed him to languish, imprisoned, for millennia. Not for a good reason, like mad Cronus. Because Zeus was petty and angry that humanity had the ability to defend themselves from his whims.

Prometheus had gone willingly. He’d committed the crime he was accused of, if it could truly be considered a crime, and he had gone in knowing that it wouldn’t be pleasant. Thanatos had visited him whenever he could find the time without catching Zeus’s attention. Hades had always seemed to hold the same opinion as Thanatos about the punishment, and looked the other way when he had slipped in.

Never once had Prometheus asked Thanatos to free him.

He wasn’t unintelligent. He had known, every time, that his friend wanted to be free. He liked to believe that if Prometheus had ever asked, he would have broken him out without hesitation, Zeus be damned. But Prometheus had never asked, and Thanatos would never know.

For millennia, he had been conflicted and guilty about his friend’s incarceration, but never more than now that Prometheus was free. Would he even be willing to talk to Thanatos, the supposed friend who had allowed him to suffer?

He stopped in front of the building and stared at it. Its energy was strange, almost like Olympus itself, but despite being filled with immortal creatures, it didn’t feel as stagnant as the home of the gods. There was something vital about it. A young woman—vampire—on her way in turned and held the door open for him with a questioning smile.

He inclined his head to her. “Thank you.”

She nodded to him and headed toward a bank of elevators on the right. To the left was a desk with a bright, smiling employee sitting behind it. They gave him the same expression of polite interest that the young woman had. “Can I help you?”

Practically dragging his feet like a toddler, he walked to the counter, head down and eyes trained on the floor. He felt like a puppy who had failed to learn what the newspapers on the floor were for.

There was no time to act like a child though. If Persephone and Lach were right, millions, possibly billions of lives were at stake. Even with his opinion on Elysium, such a mass death could have catastrophic consequences for the planet itself. His guilt over leaving Prometheus to suffer for millennia couldn’t come before that. If those years hadn’t changed Prometheus completely—and Thanatos had seen no indication that they had—he would agree, and he would help them without a second thought.

“I’m here to see Prometheus if he’s in,” he told the smiling, young attendant, glancing at their name tag. “Please, Jordan.”

Jordan’s smile didn’t falter. “I believe he’s here. Whom shall I say is calling?”

He sighed. Maybe the whole thing would be moot because Prometheus would refuse to see him entirely. “Thanatos.”

Jordan bit their lip, looking intrigued. “You’re, um, an old friend?”

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