He would never regain consciousness.
And before that happened, Hades would have balance.
“Then should I assume you want a cut?”
Hades tilted his head to the side. “Of sorts.”
Sisyphus chuckled. “Who would have thought, the God of the Dead came to bargain.”
Hades gritted his teeth. He did not like the implication of Sisyphus’ words, as if the mortal thought he had the upper hand.
“As penance for your crimes, you will donate half your income to the homeless. You are, after all, responsible for many of them.”
The drugs Sisyphus trafficked had destroyed lives, eating mortals up from the inside out with addiction and igniting violence in communities, and while he wasn’t the only one responsible, it was his ships that brought it into the mainland, his trucks that transported it across New Greece.
“Is penance not served in the afterlife?” Sisyphus asked.
“Consider it a favor. I am allowing you an early start.”
Sisyphus used his tongue to pick between his teeth, then he snickered quietly.
“You know they never describe you as a righteous god.”
“I am not righteous.”
“Forcing crooks like myself to donate to charities is righteous.”
“It is balance. A price you pay for the evil you spread.”
Hades did not believe in eradicating the world of evil, because he did not believe it was possible. What was evil to one was a fight for freedom to another—The Great War was an example. One side fought for their gods, their religion, the other fought for freedom from their perceived oppressor. The best he could do was offer a touch of redemption so that their sentence in the Underworld might eventually lead to Asphodel.
“But you are not the God of Balance. You are the God of the Dead.”
It would do no good to explain the workings of the Fates, the balance they strove to create in the world, and so he remained silent. Sisyphus pulled a metal case from the inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew a cigarette.
“I’ll tell you what.” He put the cigarette to his lips and lit it. The smell of nicotine filled the small shop—ashy, stale, and chemical. “I’ll donate one million, and I won’t violate the law of Xenia anymore.”
Hades paused a moment and used the silence to quell the rush of anger the mortal’s words ignited, his fingers curling into fists. Not so long ago, he would have let the fury overtake him, sending the mortal to Tartarus without a second thought. Instead, he let the darkness do the work for him. Outside Sisyphus’ office, Hades called to the shadows and they slithered across the exterior of the building, darkening the windows as they went.
Hades watched as Sisyphus turned, eyes following the shadows until they approached the two bodyguards at the front of the office. In the next second, they slipped into every orifice of their bodies and they collapsed, dead.
Sisyphus’ eyes returned to Hades’ and he grinned.
“On second thought, you have a deal, Lord Hades,” Sisyphus said. “Two hundred and fifty million it is.”
“Three,” Hades replied.
Defiance flashed in the mortal’s eyes. “That is more than half my income.”
“A punishment for wasting my time,” Hades said. He started to turn and leave the office before pausing. He looked over his shoulder at the mortal. “And I would not worry about breaking the law of Xenia, mortal. You don’t have much time left.”
Sisyphus was silent after Hades’ words. Ribbons of smoke danced from the cigarette poised between his fingers. After a moment, he put it out in his drink.
“Tell me something,” he said. “Why do it? Bargain and balance? Have you hope for humanity?”
“Have you none?” Hades countered.
“I live among mortals, Lord Hades. Trust me, when given the choice to tip the scale one way or the other, they’ll choose darkness. It’s the fastest path with the quickest benefit.”
“And the most to lose,” Hades said. “Do not educate me on the nature of mortals, Sisyphus. I have judged your kind for a millennium.”
Hades paused outside the door, looking down at the two men who lay at his feet. He did not revel in the idea of restoring them to life to spread violence and death themselves, but he knew the Fates would demand a sacrifice—a soul for a soul—and it was likely they would choose souls that were good and pure and innocent.
Balance, Hades thought, and he suddenly hated the word.
“Wake,” he commanded.
And as they inhaled sharp breaths, Hades vanished.
CHAPTER II – A GAME OF FATE
Hades appeared in his office at Nevernight, one of his most popular New Athens clubs. It was close to eleven, and at midnight, he would wander through the upstairs lounge, choosing mortals who longed to bargain for their greatest desires and wishes—health, love, and riches. Those were just the things he could grant. It did not include requests like creating life, returning life, or bestowing beauty—desires he would not award.
“You’re late.”
Minthe’s voice was like a whip, shattering his thoughts. He had sensed her the moment he entered the room—all fire and ice—and preferred to ignore her when she was like this.
He focused on adjusting his tie and cufflinks, silently relieved that he had chosen to use shadow magic to take Sisyphus’ bodyguards down, so he did not have to hear the nymph demand answers. With his appearance restored, he turned to the flaming-haired nymph. Her lips, a shade darker than her hair, were twisted into a pout. She did not like being ignored.
“How can I be late, Minthe, when I abide by no one’s schedule but my own?”
Minthe had been his assistant since the beginning of time, and she went through phases where she would try to exercise rights over him—rights to his time, to his realm, and to his body. Her eagerness for control was not lost on him. He recognized the trait in her because he possessed it himself.
“Tardiness is not attractive, Hades, even from a god,” she snapped.
A smile threatened his lips, but he remained composed. His amusement would only anger her further.
“While you were dallying,” Hades narrowed his eyes at the jab, “I’ve had to entertain your guests.”
Hades’ brows furrowed and dread crawled up the back of his throat. “Who is waiting for me?”
He knew by Minthe’s expression—the way her eyes narrowed, the slight curl of her mouth—that he would not like her answer.
“Lady Aphrodite.”
“Fuck,” Hades muttered.
Minthe did not even trying to hide her amusement, her lips coiled into a full smirk.
“You might want to hurry,” she said. “When I insisted she wait for you here, she said there was plenty to entertain her downstairs.”
Fantastic. The only thing to ever come out of Aphrodite entertaining herself was war.
He sighed. “Thank you, Minthe.”
Clearly pleased by Hades’ expression of gratitude, Minthe uncrossed her arms, letting them fall at her sides.
“Shall I bring you a drink, my lord?”
“Yes. In fact, I am not to have an empty glass tonight.”
Hades vanished and appeared on the floor of his club, where he walked, silent and unseen. As always, it was packed with mortals and humanoids—nymphs, satyrs, chimeras, centaurs, ogres, and cyclopes. Some used glamour, others did not. Some merely wished to experience the thrill of attending the most notorious club in New Athens, others glanced longingly toward the upstairs lounge, hopeful one of Hades’ staff would offer the night’s password.