A Game of Fate (Hades Saga #1)(57)

Hades looked at the goddess, who had been across the room moments ago. They had a competition going for a few years. The first to sneak up on the other wins, the prize to be claimed on the day of victory.

He raised a brow. “I know you were trying to scare me.”

“Did it work?” she asked.

Hades leaned in a little more, offering a deliberate, “No,” before turning back to the line of vials, nodding toward the one with the red-black blood.

“What is it used for?”

“Mostly love spells,” she replied.

Hades should have guessed. The dove was Aphrodite’s symbol and love her wheelhouse. This was an example of why Magi were so dangerous—they attempted to obtain the power of the gods, usually for nefarious purposes and disastrous implications.

“It is also used to seal pacts and promises,” she said. “Too bad they cannot extract

favors.”

“Hmm,” Hades agreed, when he noticed Hecate stiffen. Something had caught her

attention. “What is it?”

The goddess crossed the room, approaching the clerk’s counter. Hades followed, curious at first and then horrified by what he saw. A set of shelves were mounted upon the wall behind the counter and, displayed like prized possessions, were a set of shriveled hands. Each one had a candle clutched between their fingers.

“Hecate.” Hades said her name quietly. “What are those?”

“Hands of Glory,” she said. “Traditionally, they are the hands of hanging victims.”

The two exchanged a look; people were no longer hanged in New Greece. If Hades had to guess, those hands came from graves.

“It is said that those in possession of one may render anyone else immobile.”

It was a blasphemous weapon that could do a lot of harm if given to the wrong person.

Just then, a rotund man stumbled from a shrouded doorway behind the clerk’s counter. He did not look in their direction as he rubbed his palms over his black robes, which Hades found unsettling.

“Can I help you?” His voice was a high-pitched whine, and Hades had the thought that he would be annoying to torture.

“You can start by telling us where Sisyphus de Ephyra is hiding,” Hades said.

The Magi’s head snapped toward them, small eyes widening in his chubby, sallow face. He stumbled clumsily and fell over something hidden in the shadows behind his desk. After a moment, he popped back up, struggling to reach one of the hands shelved on the wall. When he finally swiped it from its place, he held it aloft, shaking.

“Stay back!”

Hades and Hecate exchanged a look.

“I possess the power of the gods!” His voice wavered, and he spit as he spoke. “Pagoma!”

There was silence for a moment as the Magi realized he was not at all as powerful as the two gods in front of him.

“Oh, precious mortal,” Hecate said, and the sweet tone of her voice contradicted her

narrowing eyes. The shriveled hand he held aloft disintegrated, then the others on his shelf followed. “You would threaten me when it is my symbol you bear upon your shop?”

Hecate’s voice changed in that moment, taking on a distorted edge, and Vasilis cowered, shrinking against the wall and shaking. It was not often Hades got to witness Hecate’s wrath, and he had to say, he enjoyed seeing the fire in her eyes.

“You will never know the power of the gods.”

The air stirred with Hecate’s magic, extinguishing the flaming candles, and while Hades would have liked to see the goddess’ rage climax, he also needed the Magi alive and able to talk.

“Are you finished scaring the mortal?” Hades asked.

“Wait your turn,” she said.

“It is my turn.” Hades gave her a meaningful look that said, remember why we came here.

“If you are arguing over my impending punishment,” the Magi said. “Then I’d really rather stick with Lady Hecate.”

“You don’t get to choose who punishes you, mortal,” Hades snapped. “You have a lot of nerve, threatening gods. Not to mention this blasphemous business you run.”

"I panicked,” he said.

Hades’ lips flattened. “Sisyphus de Ephyra. Where is he?”

Hades saw recognition in the mortal’s eyes.

“Tell me!” Hades commanded.

“Sis-Sisyphus de Ephyra, you say?” Vasilis stuttered. “N-No. I think you are mistaken, my lord. I don’t know anyone by that name.”

Hades hate lies. They had a taste and a scent, bitter and pungent. His brows slammed down over his eyes, and as he advanced upon the Magi, he changed his tune.

“I mean, did you say Sisyphus de Ephyra? I thought you said Sisphus de Phyra,” he continued, his laugh awkward while sliding along the wall, away from the two gods. “Yes, yes… Sisyphus was here just yesterday.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Hades spoke, words slipping between his teeth. “Where is he now?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Hades’ patience was a thin thread, and it snapped. He snapped. Claws protruded from the tips of his fingers. As he stepped toward the man, there was a crashing sound that came from the back room where the mortal had been. Hades glared at the mortal before changing course and making his way toward the back room.