A Hall of Mirrors

A Darkness Staring Back

Hades, God of the Underworld, hated his family. No, not in the angsty-teen way—he wasn’t fifteen, for gods’ sake—but in the way hatred is bred when left to fester for millennia. Very deep, manly stuff.

Hermes, the only other god who could cross his realm easily, said once it was just because of the lack of endorphins from being in the Underworld for so long. Hades never wanted to throttle a nephew of his so badly. And he did, which was why he only managed to say it once.

But he wasn’t about to go around causing problems merely out of spite. For all intents and purposes, he was still the eldest, and if anything petty was going to rock the feet under Olympus, it was not going to come from him. His siblings and nephews and nieces were just as capable of it either way and, besides, Hades was given a job. He’d be effective at it until he wasn’t anymore. He drew the short end of the stick all those years ago, and he’d be damned if he complained to his brothers about it.

Still, Hades felt irritated whenever he was summoned to the palace atop Olympus. There was no need to include him in parties and galas and such which doubled as a way his family checked in on him. He was a grown god, dammit, and he didn’t need to be checked upon. And if they really wanted to know how he was doing, they’d go about it in a less annoying way (which was to leave it altogether), but Hades was willing to make this one an exception.

It was the Flower of Olympus’ Introduction night and Hades was, for the most part, intrigued. More so when Zeus felt the need to warn him away from the girl that he had somehow gotten his way and got her to call him as ‘father’.

To say he was amused would be the understatement of the century. Hades was hysterical about it. It has been eons since anyone gave a s**t about his love life (Hera was the last one), much less tried to meddle with it, something his little brother should have known better by now (to be clear, he did not). There would always be one thing they could never control about Hades, and that was his heart or whatever the heck he wanted to do with it.

And, if he was being honest, it was disturbing that the stupid council thought that he’d make a move on Gaia’s daughter. Even Persephone, being the daughter of Demeter, was too much trouble for him that eventually, he got convinced it wasn’t worth it. Besides, if he was going to choose a queen, he’d make sure her undivided attention would be on him and his empire. No room for attachment to any realm else.

Hades kept mulling it over in his head, trying to envision the whole night ahead of him. So, when the god appeared by the gazebos near the banquet hall incredibly late to the party, he wasn’t really paying attention that someone had been there before him. A goddess, Hades could feel, not a nymph, because he sensed the strange well of power within her. A darkness staring back. 

Long story short, Hades was floored.

He grinned almost breathlessly, leaning on the gazebo’s wooden frame, one foot already up a step. And he watched as the girl whirled towards him with a look of pure shock on her face. It was adorable that in her pacing and thinking and stewing, the goddess didn’t sense her at all. Interesting.

“Who are you?” she hissed viciously, those silver eyes sharply darting around, her arms wounding tighter around herself.

Hades’ startled laugh lodged in his throat. Who was he? Gods. He couldn’t remember a time where he entered a room and had to introduce himself. Something stirred his blood, electrifying him in a way that pushed him to take another step towards her. Her nostrils flared delicately, and in the small beam of Selene’s moon chariot, Hades could clearly see realization dawn in her eyes.

“You’re Hades,” she said breathily, taking a step back, her hip hitting the wooden rail. “Oh, gods.”

His head tilted to the side, and Hades was well aware of the wolfy grin that he couldn’t wipe from his face. “‘Oh, god’,” he corrected. “I’m only one.”

Venom flashed in her eyes, her arms falling to the sides as her fists clenched. She was cute when he was angry, Hades realized. Like a cornered, black little kitty cat hissing at him. 

“I shouldn’t be talking to you,” she admitted, pressing herself further back but there simply was no other place to go unless she passed him. Hades got the impression she’d die before willingly taking a step towards him.

The corner of his mouth tugged upwards at the thought. “Why not? I think I like talking to you. And it isn’t every day someone admits that right to my face.” He took another step forward. “But why shouldn’t you be? Hmm?” Then he grinned. “Little kitty?”

She blinked at him, a slow one that cemented the pet name in the god’s head. “Little kitty?” she echoed dumbly, staring at him as if he grew two additional heads. Then, in a move Hades did not anticipate, she scoffed and rolled her eyes at him. “If that was an attempt at flirting, that wasn’t impressive at all.”

“If I was flirting with you,” Hades grinned, taking another step towards her. “You would know.”

The girl crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. For a moment, they kept staring at one another. Hades’ breath left him when he realized she was waiting for him to make his attempt. His body moved of its own accord, taking him closer to where she stood until there were only a few inches of space left between them. 

Hades could smell her layered scent of vanilla and something softly spicy that woke him up. It didn’t help that he could smell her sweet breath of ambrosia, or hear her thundering heartbeat. He enjoyed no small amount of self-satisfaction that he elicited such a reaction from her, that he affected her so much.

His eyes roamed over her, noting the tiara with a bit of a laugh. Pink spread over her cheeks, her tongue jutting out to nervously swipe moisture over those plump, butterfly lips. A strong urge to kiss her nearly overtook Hades.

“What’s your name?”

Another one of those adorable blinks. “You don’t know who I am?” she breathily asked, as if Hades, God of the Underworld, should have known who she was.

He smiled, a crooked thing that he knew put other females putty in his hands. “I wouldn’t have asked if I did, Little Kitty.” Hades lifted a finger, and with such care, he brushed a stray hair back into place as he let his fingertip skate over the smooth plane of the side of her face.

Amusement glittered back into those silvery depths that continued to pull at him, the darkness within beckoning. “Oh, you really should know who I am.” 

She gave him a smile. A startling one that let him peek behind the curtain of shadows that gave way to the beautiful, glowing light. Hades’ locked his muscles into place lest his body gets any more ideas. Still, he ached to touch her. He was so transfixed by her eyes, so lost in them, that he didn’t hear what she said.

“Can you say that again, Little Kitty?” Even to his ears, his voice had now become hoarse.

The girl was laughing now. Not physically, but he could tell by the way she was pressing her lips together so hard, mashing them into a straight line. 

“I said,” she murmured in a low voice. “That you mustn’t go to parties without knowing who it is in honor of.”

Hades grinned. “Oh, I know who this feast is for, Little Kitty. It’s for Gaia’s daughter.”

She grinned back. “I know.”

There was something about that smile that gave Hades pause. He jerked back ever so slightly, just enough space that he could see beyond the haze of the spell this lady had put on him. Her chocolate brown hair ran down her back now in perfect waves, there were those eyes and lips, but it was the smartass smile that broke through the memories.

Hades had only met the Earth Mother a handful of times before, some weren’t even under nice terms, but he knew that smile. And if he recognized Gaia’s smile in this small package, then he must be staring at…

Oh, s**t.

He took several steps back, breathing hard through his nose, his jaw and fists clenching with the effort to ground himself.

“You’re Kathréftis,” he growled. She smiled at him, her arms pulling back behind her.

She tilted her head, much in the same way he had earlier, and pouted. “I thought I was ‘little kitty’?”

Dear gods, she was teasing him.

He shook his head. It was really just his luck that this intriguing woman would be the one girl Zeus had warned him to stay away from. Hades studied Kathréftis, a willowy creature that one minute was stiff as a board earlier and was now the picture of aristocratic ease before him.

Irreverent. A breath of fresh air. Uncorrupt.

He had to get out. To not be alone with her. Without another word, he turned and fought with every fiber of his being to walk away, to stride into the open gardens and join the clusterfuck of a revelry. Hades looked around, making sure no one saw him come from the gazebo. When he was satisfied that no one was looking at him, he relaxed a fraction.

The Fates must truly hate him, then. Toying with him like that was not funny, yet the bitches still went ahead and let him make a fool out of himself. Gods, he was so stupid. What had he done?

He sniped a flute of ambrosia, downed one, then took another. Then another. Until Poseidon and his wife saved the trembling harpy before him and interrupted his near murderous thoughts.

“What the f**k’s got your panties in a bunch, Hades?” The Sea God grinned at him. “Nice that you’re out of your hidey-hole for once.”

He nodded to his brother. “Hello, old man,” he greeted without warmth. His dark eyes flickered to the red-haired goddess beside him. “Hello, Amphitrite.”

She merely smiled in acknowledgment. Poseidon’s ocean eyes roved over his face. Hades tried not to flinch. For some reason, out of all his family members, it was Poseidon that had always been able to pull the truth out of him. It had something to do with how perceptive he was, how he seemed to calm down just enough to reflect the same kind of calm within Hades. But he would choose Tartarus before he divulged what’s got him all knotted up.

Because it was embarrassing for other people to know that Hades, the feared god of everything that didn’t belong in Zeus’ sparkly city on land, had been bested by a little girl.

An appendage of his stirred painfully, one that he quickly stomped down.

His brother’s eyes narrowed on him and Poseidon opened his wretched mouth, but whatever he was about to say was cut off by a round of applause.

The small party of three turned to the edge of the banquet hall where Kathréftis appeared, immaculate and unperturbed unlike him. She was smiling as she moved to walk down the length of the hall. She wasn’t alone for long. Hermes had swooped in and steered her to a seat smack dab in the middle of the long table, surrounded by Hermes, Apollo, Hephaestus, Athena, and a bunch of other lesser deities.

And then she was laughing and Hades was left to wonder as he took his obsidian seat at the head of the table alongside a Zeus that clapped him on the back for merely showing up and Poseidon. The two wives had seated themselves farther down, mingling with friends.

Hades couldn’t help it. He was curious about the girl and the darkness he recognized within her. Why wasn’t she as affected by him now? How could a person who smiled and lit up as easily as she did have such a dark part of her that lured the very essence of Hades in? He scowled. She didn’t even give him one bit of glance his way. It was infuriating. He took a sidelong glance at his brother, the King of Olympus, and ‘father’ to Kathréftis. Perhaps there was a reason he was to keep his distance from her. Maybe it was for his own damn sanity. Gods knew he almost lost it in that gazebo.

But the more Hades thought about staying away, the more his mood darkened. It really just was his damned luck.