Hades did not doubt it. It was just another consequence of using relics.
“Wonder what Dionysus wants with the Graeae,” Ilias mused.
Hades did not know, but he would find out.
In the meantime, he also had to deal with Hera’s fucking labors, the thought of which filled him with both anger and dread. It tightened his muscles and filled his stomach with an almost arresting feeling that he couldn’t shake when he thought of the daunting task of executing someone he cared for. And what happened after? What if she asked him to murder again? He could only hope that by then, he found a way out of these labors that left his future with Persephone intact—not only their future, Persephone’s future.
Hera was not above torturing gods, and Hades knew if she did not get her way, she’d set her sights on Persephone.
It would be a move the goddess regretted for the rest of her life.
Hades crested the stairs that led to his office and paused outside the gilded doors. Something was wrong. The feeling raised the hair on the back of his neck and trickled down his spine. He noted it and continued inside to find his office empty. He started across the room, intent on heading for the bar, when something snuck up behind him.
“Boo!”
Hades whirled and punched Hermes in the face.
The God of Mischief stumbled back and clamped his hands over his nose.
“Motherfucker! Why did you do that?” he demanded.
“You scared me,” Hades said simply, lips curling at the sight of the god’s pain.
“I did not,” Hermes said, dropping his hands. Any evidence of the strike to the face was already healed. “You wanted to punch me.”
“Don’t give me an excuse,” Hades said, making his way to the bar, where he poured himself a drink. “To what do I owe your visit, and what can I do to prevent it in the future?”
“Rude,” Hermes said, sauntering to the bar. “You’re talking to a hero.”
Hades raised a brow.
“You should be thanking me,” he continued. “I distracted a whole crowd of screaming fans so Sephy could go to work.”
Hades frowned. “Was she not escorted to the door by Antoni?”
Hermes’s face fell, as if he realized he’d brought something to Hades’s attention that he shouldn’t have.
“Well, I could be wrong, but she kept repeating that she wanted a normal, mortal life, which is hard to do when you arrive at your day job in the God of the Underworld’s personal car and allow his personal driver to escort you to the door.”
“She’s a goddess,” Hades countered.
“A new one by her standard and ours,” Hermes argued. “You have to give her time to transition into her role. She’s played mortal for the past four years, and she’s liked it. She will resent you if you take her normalcy away too quickly.”
“You sound like Hecate,” Hades accused.
“I resent that,” Hermes sniffed. “I can be wise.”
Hades sighed, frustrated. The problem was, she was no longer normal.
People saw her differently just by her association with him.
“We’ve been famous all our lives,” Hermes said. “Persephone hasn’t, and she will not learn how to live this life without mistakes, so you might as well let her make them.”
“There is no room for mistakes, not when it comes to her safety.”
“Not everyone is a threat to her well-being.”
Except that anyone who was a threat to him was a threat to her—and that very nearly included everyone.
Hades was doubtful, and then Hermes leaned across the bar so far, his chest almost touched the counter, and he whispered, “Has anyone ever told you…you need therapy?”
Hermes had, in fact, told him often.
“Pot, meet kettle,” Hades replied.
Hermes straightened and narrowed his eyes. “Since when did you start using mortal expressions?”
“I thought you might appreciate it.”
“Well, I don’t,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, but after a moment, he dropped them. “What does it mean?”
“It means,” said Hades, “that you are a hypocrite.”
“Rude! That’s twice in one conversation, Hades.”
“Perhaps you should stick to what you do best, then.”
“And what is that?”
“Fuckery,” Hades replied and downed his drink.
“Are you saying that’s all I’m good for?” Hermes asked.
It was a trick question, and Hades did not bite. Instead, he was quiet for a moment before he asked, “How long has it been since you visited Bakkheia?”