THE INFERNAL GOD

Prologue

James Evans was only thirteen years old when he met his father for the first time.

It was a pretty lazy weekend in the suburbs of Los Angeles. He was busy binge-playing soccer on his Nintendo, his ears plugged up with heavy earphones, jean-clad legs sprawled on his bed, when Mom burst into the room with a frantic expression, a crucifix clenched in her hand as if she meant to ward off some evil spirit. She treated him as though he were invisible, checking his drawers and cupboards like a programmed robot, shuttering the windows.

Removing his headset, and feeling somewhat unsettled, James called out, “Mom!” She flinched, then faced him, her dark brown eyes filled with an emotion he recognized: Fear. “Mom, what’s going on?”

Rather than respond, she took a cursory glance around the room, holding the crucifix like a weapon. Even in her early-forties, Bridgette Evans still maintained her lithe figure; her long dark hair showed no signs of aging, her almond-shaped face pert and pretty. She wiped the crucifix nervously against her grey suit pants as her hazel eyes scoured the room. Finally her gaze landed on a darkened corner between his bookshelves, and she went rigid. “Show yourself,” she demanded, aiming the crucifix like a g*n, though it trembled in her grasp. “I know you’re there. I always know when you’re around.”

Confounded by what he was seeing, James studied the spot his mother gazed at. However, nothing there but shadows to be seen. Then his heart gave a leap when a shape separated from the shadows, forming a tall man wearing black robes, head encased in a helmet skeleton. James wasn’t all too surprised to see him; the unfamiliar figure had haunted his dreams for weeks prior to this moment.

“You,” snarled Bridgette. The poison in that one word could have sent anyone to the grave. In the clear light of his bedroom, James could see the man clearly. His skin was alabaster white, a startling contrast to his hair and robes, and then his eyes… they were such a vivid black that looking at them made James feel as though he was seeing all the darkness in the world. The skeleton helmet added a sinister appeal, and although his gaze on James’s mom was full of sadness and yearning, that didn’t make James any less scared. And it seemed his mother shared that feeling. “How dare you show your face here, after all this time?”

“It has been a spell, Bridgette.”

“Try thirteen years.” She flung the crucifix at him, a good throw, but the cross bounced off his chest and fell to the ground. Without even a change of expression, the stranger walked over their Virgin Mary. Well, he more like breezed toward them. Bridgette was suddenly before James, her arms spread as though she meant to protect him. “No. You can’t have him. Not now. Not ever.”

The man stopped before her. James’s heart was suddenly pounding hard. Who was this guy? And what did he want with James? “They are coming, Bridgette,” said the stranger. “The boy must be told the truth. He must be ready.”

Bridgette said nothing, her expression strained.

“What truth?” The words left James’s mouth before he could even think to stop them. “Who are you?”

The man looked at James for what seemed to be the first time. There was an electric surge as their gazes connected. For some reason, those dark eyes did not scare James up close. Then the bomb dropped. “I am your father.”

A gasp burst out of his lips; he glanced at his mom, but she kept her furious gaze on the stranger.

“My name is Hades,” continued the man.

Is this supposed to be some sort of a sick joke? James could see his mother trembling, but whether from anger or fear he could not tell. “Hades?” he said. “As in… god of the dead?” He had played Gods-of-Rome in his free time. “Ruler of the Underworld? That Hades?”

“Correct.”

“And you’re my father?”

“Yes. And you are in danger.”

“That’s not true,” snapped Bridgette. “The only one putting him in danger is you.”

Hades turned a grave look on her. “I have given you the signs and still you do not listen. They are coming, Bridgette. He is not safe here anymore.”

“Who’s coming?” James felt compelled to ask despite his headache – he was still reeling from a staggering dose of shock.

Hades looked at him for a long moment. “Monsters. You must leave. Stay hidden till the Amazons come for you. There is a safe place for children like you. You must go –”

“NO!” screamed Bridgette, making James flinch, but Hades looked resigned, as if already he was used to this kind of behavior from her. “You don’t get to disappear for thirteen years only to come back and make demands. Jamie is safe with me. He always has been. Go away, and never return.”

Hades grimaced. James thought his mom was being too harsh, but in truth he was meeting his father for the first time in thirteen years. “Very well,” said the god of the Underworld. “But know this, James…” James looked up at the eyes that – he now realized – were just like his own. “No matter what happens, no matter what you face, you are my son.”

James felt like this strange man claiming to be his father had just given him a cryptic message, but before he could think to decipher it, Hades vanished in a swirl of black mist.

Bridgette released a shaky breath the moment he was gone, crumpling to the ground, as if all the strength had disappeared from her bones. She was weeping. James moved to console her.

“I’m sorry you had to see all that.”

James wasn’t. Now he only had more questions. The most important one was: “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” She had told him his father died from cancer before he was born. The magnitude of what had just happened was starting to settle in his trembling bones.

Dad was alive.

Dad was a Greek god.

What does that make me? James wondered.

Mom met his gaze. “I was scared,” she confessed, “that if I did, you’d want to know more, and that you’d pursue that curiosity until you got yourself in trouble. Or worse. I didn’t realize whom your father was until it was too late. He’s part of a world that I don’t want you to know. Gods, Jamie. You’re my little boy. I can not lose you. Hades accepted the terms. He was not supposed to come here. Not supposed to see you. Who knows what calamity he has brought upon us now?” She broke down again, weeping.

James hugged her fiercely. “Don’t worry, he’s gone, okay? Nothing will happen, I promise.”

I promise.

If only he had known he wouldn’t be able to keep such a vow. That night, James shored up the windows and doors of his room, burying himself under the covers, his father’s words ringing in his mind.

The monsters are coming.

No, he told himself. Nothing will happen. I’ve lived here all my life. I’ll be fine.

Around two am that night, James was woken from a deep slumber by a sudden commotion happening outside his room. He was disoriented till he heard his mother’s scream.

Heart pounding, James threw himself out of bed and rushed toward the door, throwing it open –

Only to be greeted by a wall of burning heat. Fire!

An inferno consumed the hallway and adjoining living room, dark orange flames raging as if hell had permanently moved in to stay. James could not believe his eyes, but the smoke invading his nostrils helped to convince him that there was danger. Over the din of chaos, he heard more screaming. Choking on the noxious fumes, he shouted for his mother.

“James!” Her cry sounded from across the living room, near the apartment door, and then he saw her, as well as the ominous shape before her. Instant terror punched his gut. “Run, Jamie. Get away from here. I’ll find you. Run!”

The shadow before her growled at James. All he could make out were a pair of glowing red eyes, but those were sinister enough to send his courage on a vacation.

“Run!”

James shut his bedroom door and clamored to his window, throwing it open. The hell? When had it started to rain? He had not even noticed the weather, but the fierce gusts grabbed at his windowpane, slamming it against the wall so hard the glass shattered. Braving the cold and wetness, he crossed outside onto the fire-escape, and had just climbed down to the alley behind the house when all the windows of his apartment exploded, belching fire.

“Mom!” screamed James, but there was no response except lightning, thunder and smog. He cast a glance around his rundown neighborhood. All the lights were out, the street veiled in darkness. Raindrops pelted the pavement, leaving him soaked in a matter of minutes. He crumpled against the wall, sobbing. Then he heard something: footfalls coming closer.

His father’s voice suddenly echoed in his head: No matter what you face, you are my son. He remembered what Hades had said about Amazons coming to find him if he was in trouble. He remembered his mom’s advice: Run!

Lightning flashed above him, and the echoing thunderclaps drowned out his howls of grief, though he could hear other howls nearby – ones definitely not made by humans. I have to leave here. Bracing a hand against the alley wall, he staggered to his feet, and took his mother’s advice.

Run.