“I suppose in some ways it is fitting you are here,” Briareus said. “I cannot imagine continuing to exist as the gods do, indefinitely.”
There was a long pause, and when Hades looked at Briareus, he found the giant staring back.
“Are you not tired, my lord?”
“I am,” Hades replied.
But he had been tired since the beginning. He just chose what to live for each day, and recently that happened to be Persephone.
The giant served a meal of lamb and roasted carrots. He held to his promise of serving fresh wine, choosing a red blend for dinner, and while Briareus had served Hades a healthy portion of food, it remained untouched.
“Are my brothers next?” Briareus asked.
“No.”
“So I am the first.”
Hades said nothing, guilt weighing heavily on him. He wished he had something to say, something to contribute to this conversation, but he rarely had anything to say and even less when he faced a person he liked and had to kill.
After a moment, Hades cleared his throat. “Your wife,” he said, but before he could continue, Briareus spoke.
“Cymopolea spends most of her time in the ocean with her sisters. She visits now and then.” He hesitated. “It’s likely…she will find me.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Hades promised.
“There is no one else,” the giant replied.
Once more, Hades said nothing, but he did take a drink of the wine and tried not to grimace at the taste. They did not speak until Briareus finished eating. Hades wished he could be better company, but there was a thickness growing in his throat and a pressure building behind his eyes.
He did not want to do this.
Briareus sat back, his hands on his thighs, and spoke. “I’m not upset, you know? I understand.”
You don’t, Hades thought, and his jaw tightened. He wanted to explain that he had tried to think of ways out of this, that he had delayed it for as long as possible.
There were a few more beats of silence.
“How shall we proceed?” Briareus asked. “Do you want a knife?”
Hades should have winced, but he remained expressionless as he answered. “No.”
He held out his hand, and Briareus took it. After a moment, shadows began to move beneath the creature’s skin, breaking the surface like vines to wrap around Hades’s own arm. It was the tendrils of the giant’s soul coming out of his body.
He met Hades’s gaze. “You’re a good man, Hades,” he said. “A great god.”
The shadows disappeared into Hades’s skin. If he were to drop his glamour, the giant would see a myriad of fine, black lines marring his body —a tale of the many bargains he’d made with the Fates, among them Briareus himself.
Briareus sat back in his chair and took a breath.
He was dead.
Hades remained for a few moments before he stood, turned, and punched straight through the wall. With his aggression spent, he drained what remained of the wine and left the cottage, only to come face-to-face with Hera.
The goddess looked triumphant, a smile curving her cold face.
“Well done, Hades,” she said. “Your next trial will not have the luxury of time.”
Hades’s anger felt like a storm inside his body.
“Then stop wasting mine,” he said.
Her smile widened. “Await my summons, Lord Hades, and don’t forget what’s at stake.”
Part II
“Do the gods put this ardor in our hearts or does each man’s desire become his god?”
—Virgil, The Aeneid
Chapter XIV
An Uncertain Future
In the immediate aftermath of Briareus’s death, a dull ache formed at the front of Hades’s head. It was only a matter of time before it turned into something far worse. He had known he would not be able to sleep, but all possibilities of rest were now out of the question.
So he headed to Iniquity.
He had only managed to take care of one task, though now that the first of Hera’s labors was complete, a second would soon come. In the meantime, he had to figure out who had kidnapped the Graeae. There was the possibility that Dionysus was lying and he was still in possession of the gray sisters, but Hades doubted it. The God of the Vine had been too stunned, too affronted.
Hades wondered if the abductors of the gray sisters wanted the eye or just Medusa? What hope did they have in using her as a weapon? Who were their targets? There was a horrible dread that came with the unknown, and he hated it.
Once in his office, he found himself pulling the small black box from the inside of his jacket pocket and setting it on the desk in front of him. He stared at it for a long moment, wavering on whether he should use it. When he opened the box, he felt even less confident.