The man would likely not have been so dismissive if Hades had been in his usual form, but he reminded himself that he was there to bargain. He took a breath to release his frustration before resting a coin on the countertop. Hades pushed it closer, then let his hand fall to his side.
Acacius looked at the coin for a few seconds—long enough for Hades to know he was interested. Obols were not used as currency in New Greece, and while Charon no longer demanded them for entrance to the Underworld, they were a prized form of payment in the black market, one that granted access to Hades’s club, Iniquity.
“What do you want?” Acacius asked.
“The winner of the Hellene Cup,” Hades replied.
Acacius took a moment to respond, and in that brief silence, Hades searched for any signs that he was using a relic. Often, a user had to touch the item to channel its power, but Acacius did not stop writing notes, nor did Hades sense a burst of energy that would signal the use of magic.
“A second obol,” Acacius said.
Hades’s hand curled into a fist, but he said nothing and instead summoned another coin, placing it on the counter.
He would take them back later.
“Titan,” Acacius said.
“Titan is not favored,” Hades replied.
“You asked for the winner of the Hellene Cup. I gave it.” Acacius dragged the coins toward himself, letting them scrape loudly against the counter.
Hades ground his teeth. “Now leave.”
The dismissal had ignited Hades’s magic then, just as it did now, making it vibrate against his skin. He could have dropped his glamour and reveled himself to the mortal, but he felt he’d have more leverage later.
Threatening death and eternal torture did not always work on the underbelly of society. They tended not to fear him as much as those on the straight and narrow, which was why Hecate’s presence was necessary.
Every mortal feared her, even if they didn’t know it quite yet.
New Athens was made up of districts. Some were known to the world at large and their purpose evident—the fashion district and the pleasure district were two examples. Then there were those that were unknown, pockets of New Athens that might look pleasing enough in the daylight, but when night fell, they transformed into terrifying and violent landscapes.
The worst of these was called Hybris, named after the daimon of the same name who presided over violence, recklessness, and hubris. Its proximity to a major motorway, a railway, and a port meant that it was the perfect area to move a combination of illegal materials across New Greece. Despite this, the district proved useful to Hades, and he had even made use of its inhabitants’ abilities to gain various weapons, relics…even people.
It was one reason he allowed it to continue, but not without oversight.
Hades and Hecate appeared before a large, metal building. A matching metal fence kept most of the building obscured from view, so it was impossible for outsiders to tell how large it was, but Hades knew it was extensive. Behind its facade as a mechanic shop was a business that received stolen goods, sold them, and moved them across New Athens, and it was all owned by Acacius.
“Charming,” Hecate said, but it was clear she was not impressed. She stood beside Hades, concealed in her black robes.
He glanced at her. “You look like Thanatos.”
“Better Thanatos than a greasy mortal,” she replied. “Why are you hiding anyway? You’re not one for dramatics outside your relationship.”
Hades glowered. “I’d rather Acacius not realize he’s dealing with me until the last possible moment.”
The two entered the open gate. There were six garage doors, each open and occupied by a variety of cars. A few of the men who milled about in the lot stared openly, probably because Hecate looked like Thanatos.
Hades groaned inwardly.
“Can I help you?” A man approached, wiping his hands on an oil-stained towel. He was dressed in a blue button-up with the name Giorgos embroidered on the left pocket.
“Is Acacius here?” Hades asked.
“Who’s asking?”
Annoyance made his spine stiffen, and for a moment, he forgot he wore the skin of a mundane mortal. At the same time, Hades felt the energy shift between them. Hecate was casting a spell. The smell of her magic permeated the air, likely undetectable by the man opposite them. Hades could tell when the spell hit because the man’s expression shifted to friendly confusion.
“Sorry. Let me take you to him.”
Hades glanced at the goddess whose face he could not see beneath the hood she had pulled far over her head.