“Killing you defeats the purpose,” Hades replied.
The rapist’s eternal torture was to be under a constant state of stress. Each time Hades took aim was another second spent wondering if this blow would be his last. It was the same horrible agony the man had put his victims through.
Hades ignored Felix and retrieved another ax.
“I will kill you!” the man seethed. “I will kill you and your lover!”
Hades paused and turned toward the man. “What did you say?”
This was not usual, not for Felix and not for any soul. They did not leave Tartarus. They were never aware of anything outside their eternal punishment.
“That’s right,” Felix said, a sickening gleam to his eyes. “I know about your lover. The blond. She takes up most of your time now…and your thoughts.”
Hades did not want to ask how he knew, did not want to give him anything he might hold on to and repeat when he was revived again later.
“I’ll find her. I’ll have fun too. I’ll taste her like you’ve tasted her and then I’ll carve her from the inside out.”
There was no way he could, of course. Even if he managed to escape his bonds, he would not make it out of this cavern.
The problem was, how did he know?
Hades let his arm fall, his fingers still tight around the ax handle.
The gleam in Felix’s eyes dimmed, replaced by a subtle panic. He’d likely thought his words would lead to a quick death—and they would, but not in the way he’d imagined.
“You think you have power here, mortal?” Hades asked, gathering magic into his hand. It was energy that warmed his hand, and while invisible to the mortal’s eyes, Hades knew he could feel it.
Everyone could feel death.
“How wrong you are.”
Hades teleported and appeared before the man in a second, the magic in his hand manifesting in the form of a black spike he shoved into the bottom of his chin, straight through his head. Blood spattered on Hades’s face, spilling from the soul’s mouth and wide eyes. The kill was far less than he deserved. Hades had wanted to destroy his soul, but doing so would be the end of discovering how he knew about Persephone, which was of great concern to him. He would need to bring him back to life later to learn more.
Knowledge of her should have ended at the borders of Tartarus. How then did this mediocre prisoner know of the existence of his lover?
“Thanatos!”
Hades jerked his hand free, allowing his magic to dissipate. As he turned, he came face-to-face with the God of Death. He was a pale wraith, cloaked in shadow. His deep-blue eyes, usually as bright as sapphires, hardened and darkened as his gaze slipped from Hades’s to his bloodied prisoner.
“Are you well, my lord?” he asked.
“No,” Hades said. “Tell me how a prisoner of Tartarus knew enough about Persephone to threaten her.”
Thanatos’s eyes widened. “I…I cannot say,” he said, stumbling over his words, and then his mouth tightened. “But I will find out.”
“See that you do,” Hades replied.
He left Tartarus and bathed at the palace. Once he was dressed, he went in search of Persephone. Felix’s words urged him to find her while Hecate’s urged him to teach her and to be honest. All he wanted at this moment was to be near her. To know that she was safe.
This time when he went in search of her, he could feel the caress of her magic, though faint, and followed it to the silvery grove of trees he had gifted her. He found her kneeling in a patch of periwinkle and white phlox, her hands stretched out over a small, round section that had begun to wither.
The energy around her was chaotic, and while there were moments when he felt her magic surge and focus on her task, it was soon overtaken by the turmoil of her thoughts.
After a few moments, she settled back, her body overwhelmed with her failure.
Hades stepped forward and settled behind her, letting his legs frame her body, drawing her back against his chest. He liked this, liked her scent, liked how her body settled against his in comfort despite the anger that had preceded this moment.
“You are practicing your magic?” he asked, voice quiet.
“More like failing,” she said.
“You aren’t failing,” he said. He spoke near her ear and offered a small laugh at how desolate her voice sounded, only because she was wrong.
“You have so much power.”
“Then why can’t I use it?”
“You are using it.”
“Not…correctly.”
“Is there a correct way to use your magic?”