A Game of Fate (Hades Saga #1)(19)

Her eyes fell to the red polyanthus flower in the pocket of his suit jacket, and as she brushed it with her fingers, the petals wilted.





CHAPTER VI – A SOUL FOR A SOUL




Hades escorted Persephone downstairs. He wanted to ensure she accepted the ride home he had offered and introduce her to Antoni, his driver.

The cyclops waited patiently, dressed in a black suit and tie. When he saw Persephone, he smiled, his eyes alight.

“Lady Persephone,” he said. “This is Antoni. He will ensure you make it home safely.”

While he knew the cyclops would take care of her, he felt the need to make his point by holding Antoni’s gaze as he spoke.

She is important.

“Am I in danger, my lord?”

Her question drew his attention, and he found her looking up at him. Despite the sarcastic tone in her voice, he sensed her unease.

No one will harm you, he wanted to say, but those words would only inflame her fear. In truth, Hades was being overly protective. Perhaps it had something to do with the mortal he had tortured last night—the man who had threatened war from Triad.

“Just a precaution,” he assured her. “I would not want your mother banging down my door before she has a reason to.”

They stared at one another for a long moment before Antoni cleared his throat and opened the rear car door. They both looked at Antoni, who gestured toward the cabin of the car.

“My lady,” he offered.

“My lord.” Persephone spoke his title in that quiet, breathy voice. It made him think of other things, like how she might say his name as she found release beneath him.

She turned and slid into the back of the car. As Antoni shut the door behind her, he glanced at Hades. He knew that look. It was the you’ll thank me later look, but Hades wasn’t so certain. If Antoni had not opened his mouth, he might have kissed the goddess again the way he had wanted to in his office.

But maybe that was what the cyclops was saving him from, because Hades was not certain he would have let Persephone go a second time.

He watched as his black Lexus departed down the street.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Minthe said, leaning in the doorway behind him. She had been eavesdropping in the foyer while he saw Persephone off.

Hades kept his eyes on the car; it was in a turning lane, almost out of sight. “What do you think I am doing?”

“Encouraging her,” Minthe said. “If you aren’t careful, she’ll fall in love with you.”

He was glad he was not looking at the nymph, because a smile curled his lips.

The Lexus finally moved out of view, and Hades turned to face Minthe. Her features were pinched and slanted, partly due to the brightness of the sun, and partly from her seething judgement.

“Was Thanatos looking for me, or were you spying?” he asked, referring to her earlier intrusion into his office.

“Why is it that every time I catch you doing something you shouldn’t, I’m suddenly a spy?”

Hades did not like her words. The nymph pretended her role as assistant somehow meant she was his keeper.

“And what should I not be doing, Minthe?”

The nymph folded her arms over her chest. “Tell me, Hades. Would you have kissed her had I not shown up?”

“I did kiss her,” he replied. The nymph’s eyes widened and then narrowed as he continued, “If you saw something you disliked, Minthe, I suggest you knock in the future.”

“Thanatos is waiting for you in the throne room,” she said, before spinning on her heels and slamming the door behind her.

He sighed and teleported to the Underworld, where he met Thanatos. The God of Death was tall and slender, sporting white-blond hair and two black gayal horns. Hades liked Thanatos and trusted him as much as Hecate. He was a kind god, and he cared for the souls. He had been one of their greatest advocates, more of a king to them than Hades had ever been.

He bowed when Hades appeared, his large, black wings sweeping behind him like a silken cape.

“My lord,” he said, and as he straightened, bright blue eyes met his. “We have a problem.”

“What is it?”

“The Fates are in an uproar,” he explained. “Atropos’s shears have broken.”

Hades raised a brow. “Broken?”

Thanatos nodded. “You had better come.”

Dread pooled in Hades’ stomach, but he agreed and followed Thanatos to the Fates’ island. He found the three sisters in their weaving room.

At the center of the room was a shiny black globe where millions of threads had been woven into the surface like a tapestry. Each thread represented a person—a fate—that the Moirai had spun into existence. Usually, the three sisters sat in an arc around the globe. Clotho would start the Thread of Life, weaving it into the surface of the map, and when it was long enough, Lachesis would begin her work, weaving into it a destiny, while Atropos plucked and unraveled threads, determining the deaths of all souls, cutting their lifelines with her shears.

Except when Hades appeared, Clotho and Lachesis were consoling Atropos, who wailed and sobbed into her hands.

“You must fix this, Hades!” Lachesis demanded when she noticed him.

“Yes, you must!” Clotho cried.

“My shears! My beautiful shears!” Atropos cried.