Page 59 of Hades

“This is my daughter, Scarlett,” he answers as he picks her up. “Say hi to Uncle Hades,” he adds as he waves her little hand at me. “My wife, Rasha, and her two sisters, Moira and Saatus.” He introduces them as he hands baby Scarlett to her mother.

“Ladies.” I smile as I turn on my charm.

One of the sisters looks up at me. Her eyes are metallic silver, which would be unnerving to most. Fuck, who am I kidding? They freak me out. She stares at me, and I can feel her invasion into my soul. I growl, displeased at her unwelcome intrusion, and the building shakes.

“Your deception will cause a crossroads that you may never be able to navigate. A new empire awaits at dawn,” she warns just before shaking her head as if waking up, and when she looks back at me, her eyes are blue. “Hello,” she says with a smile, unaware of what just happened. “Oh, did I do it again?” she asks, looking at both her sisters, who shrug as if it’s an everyday occurrence.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but these three are the new Fates,” Alastor informs. “We should probably go before they get creepy,” he adds as he bends down to kiss his wife and baby.

“And I thought the Miami Vice theme was going to be the worst thing I heard today,” I mumble as I follow Alastor to his office. “Well, that’s terrifying.”

“They aren’t so bad.”

“I meant your outfit,” I mock, and Alastor looks down at his Detective Crockett suit.

“This is vintage,” he declares as he pops the collar on his linen jacket. “Don Johnson wore this in episode eighty-eight, A Rock and a Hard Place. Which you, my friend, are about to find yourself in.”

I take a moment to gather my thoughts, because he isn’t going to like this any more than Aradia will. “I’m heading to see Themis, and I need you to ensure Aradia remains safe if I don’t return.”

He lets out a long sigh as he flops in his chair behind his desk. I hate that he’s attempting to assert his power by speaking to me from behind his desk, especially when he’s dressed so ridiculously.

“I take it Aradia doesn’t know you’re going?” he asks as he leans in and tents his fingers, waiting for my answer.

I clench my fist at my side because I am about a minute away from punching him. But he’s Aradia’s brother and her only family, so I let his theatrics slide… for now.

“No, she wanted to come, and I wasn’t about to allow that. Themis is too ruthless when it comes to her children.” Alastor gives me a nod, because there is no way he can refute that. He’s gone thousands of years without knowing his sister because of Themis’ hatred of me. “You should bring Rasha and Scarlett over to meet Aradia. I know she’d like that.”

Laughing, Alastor nearly falls from his chair. “So you want me to distract my sister with her niece while you traipse off to talk to our mother about what… not being a psychopath. Cause I think that ship has sailed.”

Grabbing one of the leather chairs, I pull it over and take a seat. “Yeah, I’m not exactly sure what the plan is, but I know I have to do something so Aradia can have a normal life. I’m pretty sure she’s still human,” I add. “So, if she leaves Treachery now, she won’t remember me. She started to get her memory back this morning, but only memories from before our banishment.”

Alastor lets out a long whistle. “That’s some fucked up shit. But I’m telling you now, you better go in there with a better plan thanI don’t know. If you don’t, that bitch is going to eat you alive, regardless of who the fuck you are down here. And you’re going alone. Are you crazy or just stupid?”

Gripping the arm of the leather chair, I hear the wood under my fingers splinter. I have never allowed anyone to speak to me as Alastor is currently and live. “Mind your tongue,” I snarl, and he gives me a single finger salute.

“Tell you what. If you’re not back in twelve hours, I’ll come help you.”

“You really want me to kill you, don’t you?” I ask, only half kidding. “I won’t need fucking rescuing. She must have some shred of maternal instinct. Even demons know they shouldn’t eat their young. Well, most of them,” I correct myself.

“Yeah, but didn’t you say you were virtually powerless when you were there?”

“Why are you arguing? I need you to make sure your sister is safe, that’s it!” I yell as I stand with such force the chair slides back several feet. “Do you think you can handle that, or should I just have Reaver check in on her?”

Alastor raises his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just pointing out some facts, that’s all. Don’t you think Aradia will be pissed, knowing you’re basically going on a suicide mission, and I’m letting you?”

Anger surges through me as I slam my palms down on his desk. “You are not allowing me to do anything. Aradia is my love, destiny, and very soul. I will do everything in my power to ensure her happiness, including facing off with your bitch of a mother,” I spit out. “Just make sure she’s safe if I don’t return. That’s your only job.”

I don’t wait for his response. If I do, I know I’ll do something I would eventually regret, like killing him. And that wouldn’t help my argument with Aradia.

I flash to The Inferno. Walking in, I first look up to the second-floor bar, and I’m instantly glad I don’t have an eighties obsession. At The Inferno, the second floor is anything but family friendly. Most would call it a brothel at best, and a sex dungeon at worst. But it isn’t some nineteen eighties homage to Miami Vice, that’s for damn sure.

Walking through the crowded place, I don’t bother to speak to anyone. If I don’t make it back, someone will take it, just as I had. There is no emotional attachment to the place. I used it to hide away when I should have been fighting for Aradia.

Bursting into my office, I don’t expect to see Reaver sitting behind my desk when I enter. “Don’t bother to get up, you can have it,” I inform him just before I pull down an ancient bookshelf from the wall.

The tomes lining the shelves fall to the ground, some so old they turn into nothing more than a pile of dust when they hit the stone floor. Behind the shelving is a door I haven’t opened or thought about in thousands of years. The locking mechanism I installed can only be opened by my hand and a chant in the long-dead language of my family.

“Wij no’, Wij ngup. GhIt meH parmaq je qorDu’,” I say in the dead language of my ancestors as I place my hand on the carved circle. The sound of metal scraping against stone echoes through the office as the internal gears turn and release the door.

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