Consequences

Kore woke, yet again, to Hades’s living room. No dog breath greeted her when she opened her eyes this time, and no one moved around the kitchen. The house held an eerie stillness, and Kore got the sense she’d been left alone.

Which was just as well. Memory was coming back to her in fits and spurts, Mother’s angry shouts and Theo’s desperate pleas. Hades standing on the plain, his anger radiating from him in waves. How had the whole thing gone so wrong?

Kore didn’t have an answer. She’d attacked Mother. Like Mother would ever mean Kore harm. Like she would ever, ever hurt Kore on purpose.

But the memory of Mother's face, twisted into something unrecognizable, made Kore’s eyes sting. She’d never seen such open anger, not once in all the time she’d been alive. Certainly nothing close to it had ever been directed at her.

Kore sat up, her body aching in the bone-deep way that said she’d gone too far. Long orange splotches traced over her skin, all the spots where Mother’s vines had grabbed her. They hurt when she touched them, but were nothing compared to the weight on her chest when she thought of how they’d gotten there.

A deep sigh drew her attention to the floor, where the three-headed dog slept, his legs twitching. He, at least, seemed content. No impending doom hovered on his horizon.

Kore stood, her stomach rolling as she did. The tiny glass she’d drunk from when she’d awoken the first time had been set on the table, filled again with golden liquid, but Kore left it alone. She did not want to fix the aches in her body. She wanted to feel each and every one of them, if only to convince herself that what existed in her head had, indeed, happened. Even if the pain it sent lancing through her chest made it hard to breathe.

Beside the glass of ambrosia, the yellow and purple flowers rested in their too-large cup of water. Kore stared at them for a long time, an emotion she couldn’t name rioting its way through her head.

Slowly, using the corner of the couch for support, Kore inched her way forward. She still wore the giant t-shirt and sweatpants rolled at the waist Hades had given her, though she saw with dismay that these, too, now carried gold stains. At this rate, she would owe Hades a new wardrobe by the time she finally made it home.

Home. Whatever that meant now.

Kore pushed the thought out of her mind. She could ponder it later, when she didn’t owe Hades a massive apology. If not for her own role in his assault, then at least for Mother’s.

Kore surveyed the kitchen first, but as she’d thought, he was not there. She followed the tile around to a foyer, where the front door had been locked against the outside. Big windows showed her a view of a river, the same one they’d crossed leaving the house the last time, but she did not see his lean silhouette against the rocks, either.

When she returned to the living room, the dog stood, staring at her.

“I’m looking for Hades.”

She felt absurd even as the words left her mouth, but the dog’s heads tilted. He turned and trotted down the far hallway, the one that had taken her to the guest bedroom. When she didn’t follow, the dog returned, whined, and turned in that direction again.

Maybe talking to a dog wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Kore followed him down the hallway. He turned before they got to the guest bedroom, ducking into a little entryway. A door stood there, which the dog scratched at with a paw.

Kore had the decency to knock first. After everything, she would not walk in on Hades in a state of anything less than respectable. But no answer came, and after she knocked again, she chanced opening the door.

It led outside. Little stone pavers covered loose shale rocks, a path of them winding away towards a low hill and disappearing around the side of it. Kore did not have to find out where they led, because Hades sat with his back to her on one of the stones, staring at the hill. He turned when he heard her on the gravel.

Gods did not need sleep, technically, but Kore knew it felt better to get it than to go without. Hades looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Circles darkened the pale skin under his eyes, and his already thin face reminded her more of the skeletons on the beach than the lively god who’d rescued her from them. He hadn’t changed his clothes either, his rumpled shirt stained gold like hers.

Before she could say a word, a vibration by her feet drew her attention. The cell phone rattled against the stones, its screen bright against the half-dark.

“Ignore it,” he said, his voice hollow. “I am.”

Kore walked out beside him and lowered herself on the rocks. Sharp points dug into her legs, but she paid them no mind. So many things she wanted to say drifted through her thoughts, but none of them seemed right.

It was Hades who filled the silence. “I hope the ambrosia helped.”

“I didn’t take it.” Kore studied him, his skin turned orange and yellow the same as hers. One bruise disappeared into the collar of his shirt, and Kore wondered how close Mother had come to strangling him. “Looks like you didn’t, either.”

He shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

Kore didn’t know how to answer that.

Luckily, Hades didn’t let the quiet last long. He cleared his throat and let his gaze fall somewhere in front of them. “So. What happens now?”

“I was hoping you’d have an answer to that, actually.”

He scoffed. “Can’t say I’ve ever kidnapped anyone before. Maybe you can help me with the steps.”

Kore’s expression screwed up in confusion. “You didn’t kidnap me.”

“Tell that to your mother and every other immortal she has convinced that I dragged you beneath the earth against your screams of protest.”

Kore’s heart stuttered. Surely, Mother wouldn’t spread such a false story. “Maybe she didn’t know. It all happened so fast, she could have mistaken my shouts for something else.”

“It doesn’t matter now. Half the Pantheon believes it, so the faster you get out of here, the better.”

His rebuke stung, but she had to admit that he had every right to say it. She didn’t belong below the earth, and she’d long overstayed her welcome. But could she return to Mother? Pretend nothing had happened? Or had they passed the point of pretending?

As if he could hear her thoughts, Hades reached a hand out, his fingers hovering over her skin. Like he’d thought about touching her, but stopped short at the long, ugly ropes of yellow and orange. “If you never wanted to see her again, however, I couldn’t blame you.”

“It’s not like that. She didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“I hope you’re right.” His tone told her he remained unconvinced. “Though even if she didn’t, she now fits into a long list of less-than-spectacular divine parents.”

Kore shook her head vehemently. “If I hadn’t fought back, she wouldn’t have—”

“Don’t.” Anger laced the word, strong enough Kore flinched away from it. Hades noticed. He closed his eyes and took a long breath. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—I’ve spent too long working through that very thought for you to fall into it, too.”

For a long moment, Kore didn’t know what he meant. Then she did, and her mouth went dry. “I—I shouldn’t have said—I mean, I’ve heard the stories, but I know better than to believe them.”

“Believe it,” he growled. “All of it. Every gruesome, humiliating detail. You weren’t wrong before, about my parents.”

He went quiet, and Kore thought he’d said as much as he would on the subject. She didn’t blame him; the topic could not be an easy one. Then he lifted the sleeve of his t-shirt, exposing the muscled skin of his shoulder and a web of thick, dense tissue spread across most of it.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

A scar, Kore realized. A twisting, off-color cord of skin that covered most of his shoulder and arm. She stared, unable to stop herself. She’d never seen an injury so extensive, not on Mother or any of the nymphs. She’d never known gods could scar like that.

“What happened?”

“I thought you said you’ve heard the stories.”

“I get the sneaking suspicion my mother is not the greatest storyteller.”

That, at least, got a smile, even if it was a strained one. He dropped his sleeve. “You know my father was a Titan?”

Kore nodded. The worst Titan, Mother had said, the one who’d started the war by trying to kill his sons.

Hades ran an absent hand over his chest, and Kore wondered if the wound continued across his torso. “He ate my brother and I when we were infants. I wish that sort of thing would have killed me, but alas, one of the many downsides of being immortal.”

At first, Kore thought he’d made a terrible, unfunny joke. But his face remained taut, and she saw with a roll of her still-sensitive stomach he meant every word. “Why would he do that?”

Hades shrugged, but the movement didn’t come off as nonchalant as he might have hoped. “He’d been given a prophecy, that he would be overthrown by his own child. I suppose he thought the best way to go about making sure that didn’t happen was to get rid of us, piece by piece.”

“I’ll never complain about my mother again.”

Another smile, this one lasting longer than the first. “My mother finally managed to hide one of her children before he could get to him. For sixteen years, Poseidon and I existed in pain, while Zeus grew strong under the watchful eye of a group of dryads. When he came of age, he fulfilled the prophecy and freed my brother and I.”

“And you were…okay?”

Hades snorted. “That’s subjective. But gods heal fast, and it’s not like I had much choice. Some of the other Titans didn’t take kindly to regicide, and they took up arms. The war lasted a decade.”

Kore knew this part. After the gods had emerged victorious, Mother had retreated to the farm, cutting herself off from the others. She’d had Kore, drawn the nymphs to her, dedicated her life to helping the humans dying of droughts and famines and all the other fragile things they barely survived.

Hades stared at the horizon. Kore hated the pain in his expression, the weight he still carried even after all this time.

She thought about it for a long time before she did it. Afraid to touch him, maybe, or afraid to have his piercing eyes on her. Eventually, she convinced herself to lift a hand and settle it on his shoulder, right where he’d lifted his sleeve.

She waited until he looked at her before speaking. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you survived. I would be in a whole lot more trouble if you’d given up back then.”

She earned a real smile for that, one that turned his sunken expression boyish again.

#

They couldn’t hide forever. Kore knew that, obviously, knew it would only be a matter of time before someone came looking for him. She just hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

The pounding on the door told them whoever had come did not like being made to wait. A feminine voice called for Hades loudly enough that Kore could hear it all the way from the living room.

“I can go to the yard,” Kore offered. She rose from her seat on the couch, the dog by her feet. Cerberus, Hades had told her. His name was Cerberus.

To her surprise, Hades shook his head. “The whole world is going to find out you’re here now. No hiding it anymore.”

So Kore waited while Hades answered the door. She heard the lock turn and the slide of the wood across the floor.

He hadn’t even greeted the newcomer before a woman’s voice started yelling. “What in Tartarus is going on, Hades? You said you would call me soon, and that was yesterday. Now I have to find out from another nymph that you’ve been parading around the Underworld with a goddess you kidnapped?”

Hades’s voice followed, low and controlled. “Do you want me to explain before you start screaming at me?”

“No, I want to scream. You’ve been acting weird since the palace, and now a whole lot of people are saying a whole lot of things, none of them good.”

“Do you believe them?”

An exasperated sigh. “Do you have a reason for me not to?”

“Come see for yourself.”

Footsteps, getting closer. Kore adjusted her clothes, though she knew no amount of fiddling would change how ridiculous she looked. Cerberus growled and trotted off, away into the depths of the house.

Kore wished she could follow.

Hades walked around the corner, followed by the most gorgeous woman Kore had ever seen. Even by immortal standards, her angular face and sharp jawline stood out as exceptional. Wide eyes, dark enough she couldn’t distinguish the pupil from the rest, narrowed in Kore’s direction. The woman dressed in clothing Kore would never have been comfortable in, a skirt tight to her toned thighs and a sleeveless silk button-up tucked into it, stockings and four-inch stilettos. Her long hair spilled over her shoulders in tumbling waves, reaching nearly to the hem of her skirt.

The woman looked Kore up and down before turning slowly to Hades. “You have thirty seconds to explain.”

Hades wiped a hand over his jaw. “Minthe, this is Kore. She was attacked on the North Bank two days ago, and is staying here while she recovers.”

This was Minthe? Kore remembered Hermes’s words on the plains, insinuating that Hades and Minthe had something between them. Or before that, Hades not wanting to be seen with another nymph.

A weight dropped to the bottom of her stomach as she suddenly understood.

Minthe looked at Kore like she considered the best ways to make her disappear. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Hades crossed his arms over his chest. “You think I would joke about something like that?”

“What is going on, Hades?”

“I told you. Kore was attacked—”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Minthe looked Kore up and down, and Kore could tell by the set of her mouth what ran through her mind. It was so far from the truth it seemed laughable.

“It’s not what it looks like.” Kore tried, then immediately hated how the words sounded, like she had something to hide. “Hades saved my life. Twice, I think.”

“The second one is questionable.”

A crease appeared between Minthe’s eyebrows. “So what they’re saying is true?”

“Depends on what they’re saying.” Hades crossed his arms over his chest. “That we were attacked by Demeter? Yes. That I have anything else to do with Kore? No.”

Minthe’s narrow mouth opened, searching for words. She leaned closer to Hades, her eyes narrowing when she got there. “Are those…bruises on your neck?”

“Unfortunately. Courtesy of Demeter.”

Kore didn’t know if Minthe believed him, but the way her expression darkened did not fall in his favor. Minthe took a step back. “Rumor is, Demeter isn’t happy about you snatching her kid. She’s stopped the harvest and refuses to work again until the girl comes back.”

Panic slammed into Kore’s chest. “What?”

“You heard me. You’d better get back to mommy, little girl, because if you don’t, every single living thing on the planet is done for.”

Kore thought of the plains, dead and withered. The farm and the crops, rotting in the morning sun. Every time Mother had insisted they get back to work, every time she’d barred Kore from leaving, citing the importance of their mandate—apparently, it had all been a lie. A giant, twisted excuse to keep Kore exactly where Mother wanted her.

Hades turned on Minthe. “This isn’t funny.”

“No one is laughing,” she spit back. “You and your new girlfriend are going to get everyone killed.”

Hades froze, his hand halfway to his face. “Why is it always like this with you?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

A muscle in his jaw twinged. He glanced at Kore, and whatever he saw there must have turned something inside him, because his expression burst to life, full of fire and pain. “You wonder why I never tell you anything, Minthe? It’s because every time there’s a problem, you’re busier accusing me of leaving you than actually helping. For the last damn time, I’m not going to betray you. I’m not like that.”

Minthe jabbed a finger in Kore’s direction. “Her being in your house and wearing your clothes doesn’t exactly look good for you.”

“Her dress got shredded on the beach. Would you rather I forced her to walk around naked?”

“That’s a convenient story.”

Hades threw his hands up. “If you really can’t believe that Kore is only here because she needed someplace safe to stay, then you and I have nothing more to say to each other. I’m done being accused of things I didn’t do.”

Minthe blinked at him, for the first time seeming at a loss for words. Kore watched as the disbelief gave way to anger, the corner of her eyes tightening and her lips pressing together.

Kore had to fix this, before she ruined Hades’s life more than she already had.

“He’s telling the truth,” she said, her voice more pleading than she would have liked. “He’s barely even looked at me, let alone tried anything.”

“I trust your word as far as I can throw it,” Minthe snarled.

“I’m serious. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Except the end of the world, right? Thanks for that one, princess.”

Anger surged up Kore’s throat, cutting off her ability to speak. Her eyes throbbed, and she knew if she didn’t calm down, she would rip vegetation through Hades’s hardwood floors. She doubted that would help her case.

Hades might have noticed, or he might have shared Kore’s anger. Either way, he stepped closer to Minthe, lowering his voice. “Can we table this for now? I need to take care of Kore, before every immortal in the Underworld finds out she’s here.”

Minthe’s mouth opened. “You’re picking her?”

“There’s no one to pick. If I do nothing, I start the next Titan war. It’s that simple.”

“You can’t be serious. This is crazy, even for you.”

“It’s not. I’m doing my job, which you apparently think means betraying you every possible chance I get.”

“Be careful, or you might say something you’ll regret.”

“Just go. Before we make even bigger fools of ourselves.”

“You don’t want to make me an enemy, Hades.”

That pulled him up short. “Threatening me isn’t a great way to get what you want, Minthe. Go home, before you embarrass us both more than you already have.”

The slap came so fast Kore didn’t see it. One minute Hades and Minthe faced each other, the next the crack of skin on skin made her flinch and Hades rocked backwards, his hand on his cheek.

Minthe’s eyes went wide. She looked down at her fingers, like she couldn't believe what she’d done.

Hades recovered slowly, straightening one vertebra at a time. He moved his jaw like it hurt. “Well, I think that settles that.”

“Hades, I—I didn’t—I’m sorry—”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t come back, Minthe.”

For a second, it looked like she had more fight in her. Like she thought about jumping on Hades, or Kore, or maybe them both. Then the tears came, and Minthe turned for the door. Neither of them moved when it slammed behind her.

In the oppressive silence left behind, Kore searched for something to say. Sorry didn’t seem quite right, although Kore realized if she’d heeded Mother’s wishes and stayed on the farm, she could have saved Hades all of this. Surely she could trade eternity for that? Even if Mother had lied to keep her there. Even if going back now likely meant never leaving again.

Hades didn’t meet her eyes when he turned to her. “I’m going to go for a walk. You don’t need to wait up for me.”

Before she could find a response, he strode past her and out the door to the backyard.