A Game of Retribution (Hades Saga #2)(104)

“I know,” she said, tears already streaming down her face. “You don’t have to say it.”

So he didn’t.

While he’d have liked to have his attention solely on Persephone, he couldn’t. Since the death of the Graeae, Hades had Ilias attempting to track Theseus’s contacts in the black market. His goal was to discover what relics the demigod had managed to obtain or might be seeking. Hades also had to deal with Hera, but first, he needed to make Zeus aware of what had happened to the Graeae. He wasn’t yet prepared to tell Zeus of Hera’s alliance with Theseus…unless she refused his ultimatum.

Hades found Zeus at his estate in Olympia, which was a modern version of Olympus. The gods had homes in both locations, even Hades, though he was loath to use them. The God of the Sky was in his backyard, a golf club clasped between his enormous hands as he attempted to hit a small white ball by twisting his entire body around. The first few swings sent grass and dirt flying across the lawn. When he finally hit the ball, it sounded like thunder as it tore through the air, zooming far past the flagged target in the distance. It likely landed in the ocean and belonged to Poseidon.

Zeus growled in frustration, an indication that the club in his hands was likely to follow wherever the ball landed.

“Starting a new hobby?” Hades asked, making himself known.

Zeus whirled, the scowl darkening his bearded face turning to one of jovial surprise, though Hades knew it was likely not because his brother

was glad to see him. There was an art to Zeus’s demeanor, and he crafted it carefully so that no one knew his true thoughts or feelings.

“Brother,” Zeus boomed. “To what do I owe this great honor?”

“I have brought you something,” Hades said, though as he reached into his pocket to retrieve the box that held the eye of the Graeae, his stomach knotted. There was a part of him that wanted to hold on to the eye, but a greater part of him needed this leverage for his future with Persephone.

While Hades was still not certain how the eye worked—or even if the vision it had shown him was true—giving Zeus anything with relative power made him anxious. Not to mention the eye was sentient. Would it resent him for this exchange? Would it retaliate by showing Zeus something that would destroy his whole world?

As Hades handed Zeus the box, he said, “I fear I have bad news to accompany it. I found the Graeae dead. They were killed by a hydra blood–

tipped blade. I fear it may be the first of many attempts on the lives of the Divine.”

Zeus stared down at the open, black box before snapping it shut and resting his hands atop the club.

“Who was responsible?”

“I suspect this is the work of Triad.”

Zeus did not speak, but Hades knew how he felt about the organization of Impious. As much as he hated them, he did not see them as a true threat.

“We should call Council,” Hades suggested.

“No,” Zeus said suddenly.

Hades glared. “No? You’ve called Council for less.”

Including Helios’s cows.

“For what purpose would I call Council?”

“To warn other gods,” Hades said, angry.

“The Graeae were blind,” Zeus said. “They were at a disadvantage. You do not honestly think another god could fall prey to this parlor trick?”

“Parlor trick? The Graeae are dead, Zeus.”

Hades did not know how often he would need to say this before Zeus understood. The Graeae—Divine beings—had been murdered.

“You cannot honestly think Triad will stop with these three deaths? They will try again, and they will seek more ways to replicate what they’ve done.”

“And who will they target next? Hephaestus, perhaps? Aphrodite will likely thank them.”

Hades ground his teeth until his jaw popped. “So this is your response? To the death of deities?”

Hades usually operated without expectation of his brother, but he had failed to do so here. He had thought the King of the Gods, the one responsible for the well-being of everyone and everything on Earth, would be appalled by the death of the Graeae. Instead, he seemed to think Triad had somehow granted a kindness to the three sisters.

Zeus looked at Hades and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Do not worry, Brother. If it were you, I’d call Council in an instant.”

Hades imagined that was meant to be some kind of compliment and shoved his brother’s hand away.

“Action doesn’t matter once you’re dead, Zeus.”

“If deities are dying, then perhaps they have no business being Divine,”

Zeus replied, once more returning to his practice—widening his feet, gripping his club, and manifesting a white ball. He swung and hit the ball with a crack that echoed through the air, shielding his eyes to see how far it flew, but it was already out of sight. Hades wanted to tell him he was supposed to aim for the red flag in the distance, but he had a feeling his brother had decided to play differently—especially when he could not play right.

“It’s survival of the fittest, Hades,” Zeus said at last. “Always has been, always will be.”





Chapter XXVII

A Proposal

Hades left Olympia for Nevernight. The only thing that quelled his frustration toward his brother was thinking about what he had planned for Persephone this evening. He’d decided to show her a little more of the Underworld and, in the process, himself. He hoped it would be healing and perhaps lay a foundation so that he could share more things—harder things —but those thoughts were put on hold as he appeared on the floor of Nevernight and knew he was not alone.