Promise of Shadows (4 page)

I never used that dark power again until the night I killed Ramun Mar. It was only after he was dead, his body a smoking ruin, that I realized why Whisper was so afraid that day she found me. Erebos was unnatural.
If I was the kind of creature that could use it, what did that make me?
That’s the reason the vættir can’t wield erebos. How can we be trusted with a power so destructive it can destroy gods?
So instead of telling Persephone the truth, I tilt my head and blink. “Power? What power? There’s no magic in the underworld, Exalted.” It’s a terrible lie, but mostly because I’m such a bad liar. Harpies don’t lie. We can smell the truth in each other’s emotions. So what’s the point?
“There is magic in the underworld.There is erebos.”Persephone’s eyes seem to burn a hole right through me, and it takes everything I have not to squirm like a kid caught stealing the last cookie from the cookie jar.
I force a laugh, the sound hollow and flat. “Only the Lords of the Underworld can use erebos.”
“Yes. And the shadow vættir.”
I shrug. “The shadow vættir are extinct.”
“That is true.” Her tone is curt, and I know I struck a nerve. It gives me an odd sense of pleasure, pissing her off. Persephone spends most of her time down here, but she is still a bright, like most Æthereals. She’s just as powerless as Hermes down here. That probably got old after the first couple millennium.
I consider the columns of æther around us. Hades must’ve brought all this raw power down here for his wife, so she wouldn’t feel so helpless. It makes the King of the Dead a touch less scary.
Persephone sighs and hugs herself. “That is all, Zephyr Mourning. Thank you.” She hesitates, and then shrugs. “It really was for the best.”
“What was?”
She opens her arms to take in the space around us. “Sending you here to the Underworld. Tartarus was the safest place for you after you killed one of Hera’s generals. You would not have been able to run from Ramun Mar’s brother forever, you know.”
“I’m not afraid of Ramun Sol, and I’m not afraid of Hera,” I say before walking toward the lit doorway at the end of the hall. But it’s a lie.
I am utterly terrified of them.

on edge. The first thing I register is the dark god standing at the far end of the room, his back to me. It would be impossible to miss Hades. Erebos swirls around him, shrouding him in a mantle of hypnotically shifting shadows.

I tear my eyes away from Hades and take in the room.I imagined the chamber of the King of the Dead would be dark and brooding, like something taken out of a Tim Burton movie. Shrunken heads and deep shadows, with the skeletons of past foes hanging from the rafters.
Edward Scissorhands
meets
The Nightmare Before Christmas
, with a dash of
Beetlejuice
thrown in for kicks. But the chamber is round and bright, with columns and walls made of white marble. Light pours in from giant squares of æther nestled in between decorative columns. The darkest thing in the room is Hades himself. His back is still to me when he speaks.

Hades’s voice is rich and deep, like an evening-news anchor. I blink. It takes a moment for his words to penetrate. There’s something about the shifting darkness around him that mesmerizes, and I’m having trouble focusing.

“Yes,” I finally answer.
“So, then, what do you have to tell me?” He turns toward me, and I get a glimpse of an ancient warrior’s uniform under the darkness, a pale shift overlaid by a silver breastplate, his arms adorned with leather gauntlets. There’s some sort of design on his arms, but the shadows hide its meaning. The Underworld magic clings to him like a cape, flowing down from the top of his head so that it’s impossible to see where his hair ends and the erebos begins. I’m sure it’s an effect that’s meant to impress, and it does.
I don’t bother to wonder why he’s dressed for war.
He steps away from the window, which looks out onto some far-off desert landscape where people shoot at each other. It doesn’t look like any part of the Underworld that I know. At first I think the windows are actually TVs, but then the scene changes to people sitting on a lawn enjoying a picnic, while little kids run around gathering up colored eggs. I remember the time Whisper and I went to town for the annual Easter egg hunt, and yearning clenches my stomach.
“Is that the Mortal Realm?” I say before I think about who it is I’m asking.
Hades nods. “Not part of my domain, but I enjoy watching anyway.”
I turn to look at the other windows,and slowly I realize that they look out over different parts of the realms. There are toga-wearing gods walking through the sky plazas of the Æthereal Realm and the river valley of the Du’at, part of the Underworld. The Pits of Tartarus show hundreds of vættir toiling in the mud, and the Folkvangr is in the middle of a snowstorm. I keep turning, looking for the window that will show me the Elysian Fields, hoping that maybe I’ll get a glimpse of my sister.
“The Fields are right there to your left. Today is the bacchanalia.”
Hades’s words barely register. I’ve already found it, a scene of drunken debauchery. Satyrs chase wood nymphs through a clearing, while ram-horned berserkers raise mugs of some foamy drink. Vættir of all kind feast and dance and make merry. I can’t imagine my mom hanging out in the middle of a drunken revelry, but I look for Whisper among the participants. My sister never found a party she didn’t like.
Disappointment is beginning to hollow out my middle when the screen goes dark, and Cass’s face replaces the image of the Elysian Fields.
I look over my shoulder at Hades, whose arms are now crossed, his expression hard. “Why have you refused to answer the questions of the Æthereal High Council?”
I wrap my arms around my middle. I want to see my sister so very badly that it’s hard to think about anything else. For a long moment I consider telling him the truth. Hades could strike me down for being unnatural, and I’d be dead. I could join the revelry in the Elysian Fields.
But then Cass’s warning returns to me. She told me one night that not all shades make it to the afterlife, that sometimes the trip across the Underworld is too dangerous. “There are things that will devour a shade for just a taste of life,” she said. “That’s why we try so hard to survive the Pits. Because not making it to the afterlife would be so much worse.”
I swallow the confession that lingers on the tip of my tongue and say instead, “I don’t think it’s in my best interest.”
He frowns as he considers my words. “Who told you this? Cassiphone Pellacis?”
My brow furrows. Is he reading my mind? Or just guessing? “What does Cass have to do with this?”
“Do you know who your newfound companion is?”
I shake my head, trying to make sense of this sudden turn in conversation. “Cass is my friend.”
“Cassiphone Pellacis is a liar and a fraud, just like her father. He betrayed his people, and she is not much better. The crimes she has committed are even more legendary than yours, my little Godslayer.”
His tone rubs me the wrong way, and a familiar anger returns. But like always I don’t acknowledge the emotion, just push it down deep, where it simmers. If I keep my mouth shut, he’ll just send me back to the Pits. After all, he’s not the first inquisitor the Æthereal High Council has sent.
He’s just a little scarier than the rest.
Hades walks toward me, the darkness around him shrouding his steps so that he appears to glide. I take a step back, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “She is heartless and not to be trusted.”
I think of all the times Cass has saved my life. I swallow hard. “People can change.” My voice comes out as a squeak.
Hades’s gaze burns through me. His eyes are the same bright silver as my own, and it’s a little like looking into a mirror. I wonder if my father was some distant offspring of Hades, or maybe even Zeus. Mom just told me he was an Æthereal, although Whisper used to hint that he was an Exalted. I never believed that, but seeing eyes the same color as mine looking at me has me wondering and thinking about family ties.
In that moment I remember that Hades is Hermes’s uncle, for whatever that’s worth. Maybe Hermes put in a good word for me, and the King of the Dead will take pity on me and just send me back to the Pits.
“Have
you
changed, Zephyr Mourning?” he asks, his voice dangerously low.
Goose bumps rise up on my arms, but I ignore them. My heart is in my throat, pounding out my fear in an irregular rhythm. I ignore it all and try to remember that I have survived a year in Tartarus.
I lift my chin. “Yes.”
Hades studies my face, and I wonder if he has the power to see the stains on my soul, like Anubis. Or maybe he really is reading my mind. “For the better? Have you changed for the better?”
I start to answer, but then I remember the Fae that Hermes so casually killed this morning. Before, I would’ve been horrified and upset. Now, not so much. It was another terrible moment in a string of nightmares, so uneventful that I barely registered the loss of life.
The Matriarch at the Aerie would say that I’m getting battle hardened, like forging iron into steel. Stronger, more adaptable. But I don’t feel like a better person. I feel like I’m losing something important about myself.
I don’t tell Hades this. Instead I just shrug.
Hades says nothing, his expression blank. I wish I could tell what he wants from me. After all, what will the Æthereal High Council do if I don’t answer their questions? Cass’s musings come back to me. Are they just planning to kill me anyway?
I try not to think about it.
The dark god gestures to the window behind me. “Let me show you the crimes of Cassiphone Pellacis, and you can decide whether you want to call her a friend or not.”
I’m not sure why he’s so hung up on me being friends with Cass. Is it because he thinks she’s the reason I’m not talking? I say nothing, just turn around. All of the windows fall away, and reality turns in on itself until Hades and I stand in the middle of a meadow. The tang of the ocean drifts in the air, and far off in the distance is the bluest water I have ever seen. It makes me ache for home, for the Aerie and the way it overlooked the sea.
“Where are we?”
“An ancient place. Watch, and see the kind of girl you call ‘friend.’”
I open my mouth to argue, but I’m distracted by a commotion in the village that lies down in the valley below us. Half the town explodes in a fireball. People run screaming from the buildings, pouring out in every direction, their words of fear unintelligible. They aren’t speaking any language that I know, although the words do sound like a pale imitation of Æthereal.
I don’t need to understand the language to know that the villagers are scared.
The first explosion is quickly followed by another, and then another. People run in every direction, some toward far-off boats, others up the hill past where Hades and I stand in the meadow. I try to figure out what’s causing the damage. It’s not like they had explosives when Cass walked the Mortal Realm. Her time on earth was a few thousand years before dynamite.
My question is answered when Cass walks toward us. She wears a rust-colored toga, and her golden hair whips around her head in an angry cloud. Her face is twisted in rage, and as the villagers flee in her wake, she screams one word, over and over again. She throws bolts of æther at the buildings she passes, destroying homes and people with the same mindless cruelty as a child kicking over blocks. I don’t even know if she notices the men and women she incinerates. Her focus is on the hill where Hades and I stand. She draws even with us. Shock reverberates through me as I realize her toga was once white. The rust coloring is dried blood.
Cassiphone screams again. “HERA!”
The scene before us shimmers, and the bitch-goddess herself appears on the far edge of the field. Hera looks just like she did at my trial, dark hair braided on top of her head, an ivory toga draped around her curvaceous figure. Cass turns in response to Hera’s arrival, and I half lurch toward both of them before Hades places a calming hand on my arm.
“This is just an echo of memory. Hera is not really here.”
I nod, but my jaw is still clenched, and I have to force myself to relax. I may not know what is going on here, but one thing is certain: If Hera is involved, it can’t be anything good. She argued the loudest at my trial for a death sentence, and it was her Acolytes that killed my sister. If there’s trouble, you can pretty much guarantee Hera is somehow involved.
“Cassiphone Pellacis, you have destroyed my temple and my village. Your bloodshed has not gone unnoticed. I am here now, at your behest. State your reason for summoning me.” Hera’s tone is haughty, but at least she speaks Æthereal, so I can understand what she’s saying.
Cassiphone growls low in her throat. Her hands are clenched into fists. “Murderer.”
Hera’s too-red lips curve into a smile, slow and cruel like the wicked stepmother in a fairy’s tale. “You will have to be more specific.”
Cass responds by throwing a gout of flame at Hera. The Æthereal blocks the attack easily. The battle is on, æther and flame flying in all directions. It’s strange to see a battle without movement, the energy flashing between them the only indication of violence. Harpies fight like street brawlers, magic a necessary evil, but not our preferred method. We like to draw blood.
At least, we’re supposed to.
The back-and-forth between Hera and Cassiphone is strangely subdued, and it isn’t until Cass goes to her knees that I realize she’s been losing this entire time. I take a half step forward before I remember that I can’t help her. This is a battle she lost long ago. My heart hurts for her as she wobbles and finally collapses with a moan.
Hera advances, clucking her tongue as she approaches Cass, who lies flat on her back. “He never would have been yours, anyway. It was just a matter of time before he found a more suitable match.”
Cass coughs and mutters something, blood foaming on her lips. Hera frowns. “What did you say, girl?”
“She said it never mattered because she loved him.”
Hera and I both turn to the opposite edge of the meadow, where a tiny woman stands with her hands on her hips. Her scarlet hair reaches her waist, and her dress is made of tiny pearls. Her golden eyes shine with rage, and she taps her foot impatiently. I’m not sure who she is, but Red is not happy.
“This is no business of yours, Aphrodite,” Hera snaps. I blink in surprise, because the goddess on the edge of the meadow looks nothing like I imagined her to be.The goddess of love, this woman is fierce, like she would be at home hunting bears.
“You destroyed young love,Hera.This is my business,”Aphrodite snaps. While the two goddesses argue, Cass struggles into a sitting position. Neither Aphrodite nor Hera are paying attention to her, and she uses their distraction to her advantage. Cass lashes out at Hera, scoring a direct hit in the middle of the goddess’s back. The Exalted spins around with a shriek, her face twisted with rage.
“This isn’t over,” Cass snarls at the goddess as she slowly climbs to her feet. Her expression is fierce, her spine straight despite the fatigue that makes her hand shake as she points at Hera. “I will destroy you, Hera. No matter how long it takes.”
Before Hera can retaliate, Hermes flashes into the meadow. He moves faster than I’ve ever seen him move before. One moment he’s beside Cass, the next there’s a flash of light and the two of them are gone.
The scene dissolves, and Hades’s chamber slowly comes back into focus, along with all of the windows. The window on the Elysian Fields is dark, but I glance at it longingly, anyway.
“So now you know the kind of person you have chosen as your companion.”
I close my eyes for a long moment and take a deep breath. It pains me, realizing how little I know about Cass. Attacking an enemy while their back is turned is dishonorable, but who cares? Does it really matter when someone’s saved your ass more times than you can count? And sure she killed a lot of innocent people trying to find Hera, but Cass has also spent gods know how long in the Pits of Tartarus. I kind of feel like she’s served her time.
“Nothing you’ve shown me has changed my mind. She’s still my friend.” I hate that Cass had to go through something so painful, but at the same time I like knowing someone else has a score to settle with Hera. It makes me feel less alone.
“She is a Pellacis. She will lie to you, and she will eventually betray you in order to get what she wants. It is the nature of her kind. Pellacis are inherently dishonest.”
I’ve never heard of a Pellacis, but Hades is talking as if they’re some kind of vættir, like a Fae or a Mer. Beyond that, his meaning is clear. Cass will sell me out if given half a chance. It’s the Æthereal version of good cop/bad cop. Come clean with us now, kid, and we’ll go easy on you.
But it’s a wasted effort. Cass doesn’t know my secret, and I still trust her more than I trust any god.
So I say nothing, just cross my arms and meet his bright gaze.
Hades looks at me a long moment before nodding.“As you wish.” He stares off into the distance, his metallic eyes thoughtful. Why would he take such a roundabout way to get me to spill my guts? It’s weird, but I don’t really get Æthereals anyway. They all seem a little off, and I wonder if it’s because all that power fries their brains.
Plus, it’s probably a tactic that works more often than not. Lucky for me I’ve seen enough cop shows to know the hard sell when I see it. I’m better off keeping my mouth shut.
Hades’s gaze once again lights on me. “So you refuse to answer the Æthereal High Council’s questions.”
“I don’t have anything to tell them.” It’s the truth. But I still hold my breath, waiting for his response. What’s the worst he can do to me? Feed me to one of his demon dogs? That would suck, but there’s not much I can do except keep quiet and hope everyone forgets about me.