A Game of Retribution (Hades Saga #2)(15)

“Let me guess. Another horse race?”

“Not quite.”

The man turned, narrowing his oily eyes at Hades. He stepped closer and took the cigarette from his mouth. This time, he blew the smoke directly in Hades’s face.

“Your gambling habit is low on my priority list, got it? So unless you have something far more valuable to trade, I suggest you leave.”

Hades had already sensed that they were surrounded—the mechanics in the shop had formed a circle around him and Hecate.

“How adorable,” she said, her covered head moving from left to right.

“They’re trying to threaten us.”

“Shut your friend up,” Acacius said, poking his fingers in Hades’s face.

The best thing about this disguise and why Hades had wanted to wear it was that Acacius and his gang would underestimate him, which made the next few seconds more satisfying than ever.

The god snatched Acacius’s fingers and bent them back. A crisp, clear snapping sound preceded Acacius’s pained screams.

Simultaneously, his men jumped into action. Hecate whirled, throwing off her hood, sending a wave of magic through the air that halted everyone in their stride.

Hades stepped toward Acacius, who knelt on the ground, cradling his hand. As he approached, he smothered the mortal’s smoldering cigarette with his boot and knelt face-to-face with him. With his stern expression gone, Acacius looked younger—a boy playing a man’s game. Hades was about to show him just how unprepared he was to deal.

“Now, about that bargain.”

“Wh-who are you?”

At that question, Hades let his glamour fall away.

Acacius’s eyes widened, but he did not tremble, and Hades wasn’t sure if that was something to be respected or concerned about.

“Hades,” Acacius breathed his name, and the god rose to his feet. The mortal remained on the ground, lifted on his elbow so his bruised and broken fingers were visible. “What do you want?”

“Nothing too taxing,” Hades said. “Just your cooperation.”

Acacius made his way to his feet before he asked, “In exchange for what?”

He was a foot shorter than Hades, yet still managed to appear hardened and unafraid in the face of death.

“Let’s not pretend you have anything to bargain with,” Hades replied.

“We both know I could dismantle your empire with a snap of my fingers, so what will it be?”

“Depends on what you want from my cooperation.”

Hades stared, unamused. “The audacity,” he said, though he had expected this behavior. “I know you possess some kind of relic. Something that allows you to see the future. I want it.”

“That is a hefty price.”

“Give it to me, or I take it by force. Can you survive a bruised ego in this part of town?”

The answer was no, and Acacius knew it. His lips slammed into a hard line. “Follow me,” he said and turned to leave the garage.

Hades started to follow but paused when Hecate did not. “Are you coming?”

“No,” she said, a smile curling her lips. “I think I’ll stay.”

Acacius led him to an office inside the garage. It was lit with low, amber light, and as Hades entered, he noted several expensive furnishings, among them an ornately carved executive desk and accompanying leather chair, the back of which faced the door and a wall of windows, something Hades found odd. Usually, people of Acacius’s caliber did not sit with their backs to doors or windows for fear of assassination, but perhaps he felt comfortable in his own space.

Hubris, Hades thought.

Acacius moved behind the desk, removed a set of keys from his pocket with his uninjured hand, and opened one of the drawers. Hades watched him closely, not trusting that he wouldn’t try something stupid, like drawing a gun on him. While those weapons were known to be useless against gods, people still made the attempt. The last one to try was Sisyphus, and that had ended with the gun melted to his hand.

Instead, though, the mortal set a small box on the desk. It appeared to be a ring box, but what was inside surprised even Hades.

It was an eye.

“Is that what I think it is?” Hades asked.

“That depends on what you think it is,” said Acacius.

“You are wearing your chances thin.”

“It is the eye of the Graeae.”

It was exactly as Hades thought. The Graeae were three sisters who wore the skin of hags, though their true form was rather monstrous. The three had the bodies of swans, though their heads and arms were human, and between them, they shared a tooth and an eye.

“How did you come to possess it?” Hades asked.

“I took it from them,” Acacius said. “The Graeae.”

“You took it from them?” Hades repeated. “When?”

The Graeae had not been seen in centuries, choosing to self-isolate, fearing the evolution of man—and rightly so, as Acacius had demonstrated.

“They were obtained by hunters and brought to me,” he said. “Monsters are worth a fortune in the market.”

“So you sold them.”

There was a moment of silence, then Hades pounced. He grabbed a handful of Acacius’s shirt and slammed him down on his desk.

“Who did you sell them to?” he demanded.