A Game of Retribution (Hades Saga #2)(40)

“It seems she’s doing a fine job keeping herself safe,” Ariadne pointed out, which was true. No one had been able to locate her, and if they had, it was likely that no one knew because she’d turned them to stone.

Still, Dionysus was right. Power like that was dangerous. Mortals would want to harness it—mortals like the Impious or even Triad—while immortals would want to destroy it. It was just a matter of time before someone figured out how to capture her.

Hades looked to Dionysus. “What will you do if she doesn’t want to come with you?” It was an important question, one that Hades had to know the answer to before he decided how to proceed.

“I won’t force her,” Dionysus said. “But I have hope that her sisters will help convince her.”

“Take us to them,” Hades said, and before Dionysus could protest, he continued. “We’ll learn the secret together.”

Dionysus’s lips flattened. “You hardly have the authority to command such a thing in my realm,” he said.

“Last time I checked, the Graeae were not under your rule. Besides, I have the eye, and they cannot see without it.”

Hades expected Dionysus to protest—to remind him that he had bought and paid for the services of the Graeae—and while his jaw ticked as he gritted his teeth, he gave a harsh nod.

“Fine.”

Dionysus left the balcony, navigating to the floor where his maenads lingered, and led them through one of the darkened archways.

It turned out that they were dorms.

“I expected a dungeon,” Ariadne said as they passed door after door.

“I have one,” said Dionysus. “Though it’s not exactly what you’re imagining.”

Ariadne scoffed, and Hades rolled his eyes.

Finally, Dionysus stopped at one of the doors and knocked.

“What are we waiting for?” Ariadne asked.

“For them to answer the door,” Dionysus said. “They aren’t prisoners.”

But after a minute, no one had come, so Dionysus knocked again.

“Deino, Enyo, Pemphredo,” he called, and still there was no answer.

When he opened the door, they found the dorm was empty. “What the fuck.”

Dionysus stepped inside the spacious room, which resembled more of a luxury hotel room with large beds, lush linens, and pleasing works of art.

Hades and Ariadne followed. It was evident that the three sisters had occupied the room, as three of the four beds had rumpled covers and there were breakfast trays at the end of each, crowded with empty plates, glasses, and silverware, but the Graeae were nowhere to be found.

“You have a basement of assassins, and the Graeae still managed to escape,” Ariadne said.

“They didn’t escape,” said Dionysus.

Ariadne raised a doubtful brow.

“They were taken,” he said.

“Are you saying someone managed to steal from you?” she asked and glanced at Hades. “Twice.”

Dionysus’s body tensed.

“Seems your maenads aren’t doing their job.”

“It would be impossible for mortals, no matter how skilled, to go up against a god,” said Hades.

“You think a god did this?” she asked.

There was no other explanation. Three monsters had disappeared from their room without a trace.

“If not a god, someone with divine blood,” Hades said, knowing that demigods often took on powers from their mothers and fathers, which made the pool of culprits even greater. “The question is, who?”

Hades met Dionysus’s gaze, but he shook his head.

“I have no fucking clue.”





Chapter XI

A Battle of Wills

Hades expected to return to the Underworld only mildly frustrated after dealing with Dionysus tonight, but he had not anticipated adding to his long list of anxieties, among them the abducted Graeae.

The only thing that worked in either Dionysus’s or Hades’s favor was that he was still in possession of the eye. The way he saw it, there were two possibilities ahead of them—either he and Dionysus found the abductors, or the abductors would come to them. For now, at least the gorgon Medusa was safe.

Though for how long, Hades could not be certain, and that made him uneasy. In fact, everything about this made him uneasy. Something was at work here, and he felt like he could see it forming on the fringe of his vision, a slight shadow that hinted at darker days.

Whoever was in search of Medusa wanted a weapon.

A thick dread settled in his chest and tangled in his lungs, making it hard to breathe and think of anything but…war.

He shook his head, frowning deeply at the turn his thoughts had taken, and it was made worse by the sudden, deep desire to see Persephone. When he felt like this—like chaos and turmoil—he turned to her to calm and soothe. She was everything he had never had upon entering this ravaged and bloody world—warm and loving and safe—and when this violence moved beneath his skin at the thought of his past, she always managed to ease it.

As he made his return to the Underworld, the need to see her blossomed.

He was urged not only by these darker feelings but by far less rational thoughts, like what if Apollo had somehow found a way into the Underworld? He knew it wasn’t possible, yet his mind would not ease until he laid eyes on her.