A Game of Fate (Hades Saga #1)(50)

Poseidon straightened, fists curled at his sides. Hades sensed his rage churning beneath the surface, fierce like a deadly storm. He was not sure what the god intended to do next. Perhaps he wished to war with Hecate, which would spell disaster for him, his business, and the goal of this meeting.

“Where is the mortal?” Hades asked.

Poseidon’s eyes shifted to his, and Hades felt his hate. Usually, his brother’s intense emotion left him smiling, but today, he felt dread. Poseidon had a number of reasons to fuck this up. Favor or not, Hades had embarrassed him in front of his people and his wife, and while Poseidon had earned Hecate’s wrath, there was only so much the God of the Sea would endure before he took his revenge. Everyone had a breaking point, and Poseidon had done well to stay composed this long. He wondered what sort of magic Amphitrite had worked upon him.

“He will arrive soon.” Poseidon indicted to a watchtower that overlooked his shipyard. “Wait there.”

The two did as he instructed and teleported to the lookout. The box was small, and Hades and Hecate stood shoulder to shoulder as they peered out over the yard. This particular security station overlooked the entrance and the main office. In the distance, a series of lights illuminated hundreds of ships in various states of construction. Hades thought the view was beautiful in its own way.

“He is even more unpleasant than I remember,” Hecate muttered.

“You know he can hear you?” Hades reminded her.

“I hope so.”

Hades smirked, and then his gaze shifted to the entrance of the shipyard. Something rippled in the air—magic, but not Poseidon’s or Hecate’s. He tensed and saw Sisyphus walk into view. The mortal’s thick, broad frame was unmistakable. As he approached Poseidon’s office, the god walked out to meet him.

“That is not a mortal,” Hecate said.

It was at that moment that Thanatos appeared in a billow of black smoke, his great wings spread wide, and he wielded a long blade he used to slide through Sisyphus’ body, but the mortal disintegrated into bits of rock and clay.

“Poseidon,” Hades growled.

Sisyphus’ laugh echoed from every direction, and Hades looked at Hecate.

“Someone has given the mortal magic,” the goddess said.

“You might be all-powerful, but I can guess your tricks, Lord Hades.”

Hades ground his teeth and called upon his magic, sending his shadows searching for the mortal in the darkness. He would draw the man out like poison from a wound.

“Ah!”

As soon as Sisyphus screamed, Hades teleported, finding him atop the yard’s wide, stone wall.

“Hello, mortal.”

His foot shot out, kicking Sisyphus in the stomach. He fell from the wall onto his back in the middle of the yard. Hades followed, landing on his feet and took a few deliberate strides toward him, spires protruding from his fingertips. He would sink them so far into Sisyphus’ chest, he’d puncture his heart.

The mortal groaned and rolled onto his back, eyes widening as Hades approached. He pushed himself onto his elbows, his feet sliding against the dirt as he tried to crawl away.

Again, Hades felt that same shift in the air. It was magic of some kind, but it was not Divine.

“Hades! Down!” Hecate commanded, her voice was near, but he could not see her.

He obeyed, hitting the ground just as the wall behind him exploded. Debris flew, hitting Hades’ back as he crouched on the ground. The impact was harsh, and he groaned. He might heal easily, but that did not mean he could not feel pain.

Somewhere in the distance, Poseidon laughed. “You had better run, mortal, unless you wish to find yourself at the end of Hades’ claws.”

Hades looked up, and through the curling smoke, he saw Sisyphus climb to his feet. He was covered in dust, and his head was bleeding.

“No!” Hades growled. With his magic working to heal him fast, he had no time to teleport. Instead, he withdrew the small box Hephaestus had made and tossed it after the mortal. As he did, Thanatos moved to chase Sisyphus, the god blocking Hades’ aim. The box fell at Thanatos’ feet, and the chains unfurled, trapping the God of Death in heavy manacles.

Sisyphus raced toward the gaping opening in Poseidon’s wall, and Hades growled as he got to his feet and followed, but when he made it outside, the mortal was gone and the street quiet.

A mortal could not have fled that fast; he’d had help.

“Magic,” Hecate said, appearing beside him. “The air smells of it. If I had to guess, a portal.”

Hades stood for a few moments in silence, glaring at the space where Sisyphus once stood before returning to the yard. Poseidon stood near his office, large arms crossed over his chest, a smug expression on his face.

“What’s the matter, brother? Evening not go quite as planned?”

Hades cast his arm out, and the spires that protruded from the tips of his fingers shot toward Poseidon like bullets. The god summoned a wall of magic, and the spikes halted inches from his face.

Hades turned his attention to Thanatos, whose lithe body bowed beneath the weight of Hephaestus’ chains. Hecate stood aside, studying him, the corners of her lips turned up.

“Chains of Truth, Hades?” she asked, raising a brow. “Thanatos, what do you think of Hades’ hair?”

The God of Death’s eyes widened in fear, and when he spoke, it was like the words had been torn from his throat.