Page 81 of Junkyard Dog

Iris drew her legs onto the chaise, carefully smoothing her skirt over her knees. “While Seph’s here, yes,” she replied, folding her hands demurely into her lap. “She brings quite an entourage with her. Hades and Demeter are in an open negotiation for the division of her time now, so I’ve become quite familiar with the place in between messages.”

He craned his neck back at Persephone, chuckling when her hands flew to her hips and she stared down the fearsome Hades, his large form shrinking in his seat until he nodded and Seph smiled sweetly. “Who’s driving the negotiations?”

“Seph, of course.” Iris laughed, schooling herself quickly and tilting her head. “I’m sure you’ll catch up on all the comings and goings soon. Have you resettled into your rooms?”

He nodded absently, keeping one eye on Dio’s reaction to Bo nuzzling into the neck of an olive-skinned handmaiden. “Not much to settle,” he muttered, pushing himself up a fraction on the cushions and cursing under his breath when his knee protested. “We pack light.”

Another laugh quickly ended, Iris’s practiced serenity returning with unnatural speed. She placed one hand on his leg, each of her manicured nails the precise length of the next as they trailed up his inner thigh. “Would you care to retire? I’m not expected anywhere until tomorrow evening.”

He looked down at the pretty goddess, her delicate features accentuating her perfect nymph-like form. “Yeah, no. I’m taken.”

*

Charlotte watched Max’shardened expression through a haze, the injection from the medic having taken effect almost instantly. She blinked, losing the precarious focus she had before giving up and closing her eyes, shutting out the sterilized bags and syringes in sight and focusing on the rumble of the tires as the ambulance sped down the highway.

“She’s even more out of it than she was when I found her,” Max barked. “What the hell did you give her?”

She smiled, her veins warm and mind clouded with a heavy fog that blocked out the unpleasant thoughts lurking in the background.

Max’s gruff voice grumbled incoherently for a moment, his hand pressing lightly on her elbow. “No, I don’t know how she did it.”

A cold hand pushed against her side. She turned her head and opened one eye, swatting a weighted arm at the invasion.

“He’s just checking out those bruises, Chuck,” Max reassured her, running his hand over her forehead. “We’re gonna put that medical coverage to good use today.”

*

Alex rested hisweight against the wall and briefly debated how determined he was to make it to his quarters. When Dio’s raucous laughter tore down the hall, he doubled his efforts to escape to the isolation of his room, not bothering to hide his limp as he sped up. Gritting his teeth, he crossed the threshold and collapsed on his bed.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the stunning mural on his ceiling, a piece commissioned for him by Hades centuries earlier after a particularly difficult hunt. All three of them had the same painting, their Cerberus form sitting regally at Hades’s side, the shades of their kills standing faceless and nameless behind them.

It was a perfect replica of the tattoo that adorned their backs, the shades of the Pirithous stretching down their arms.

A morbid trophy case, updated by the artist with every successful Pirithous takedown.

He tossed his arm over his eyes.

Within the week, another figure would be added to the piece, leaving the wall of death distractingly lopsided. The transparent charcoal form would look like the others, void of life and expression, standing solely through the will of Hades. Ryan, Bo, and Alex would then sit stoically under Seph’s watchful eye as the art on their bodies was adapted to reflect their skilled service to their master.

Ryan had posed proudly for the sketch, the hand of his master resting on his neck. Bo’s head was slightly bowed, his eyes narrowed and hungry, the bowl of mead at the foot of the artist not making it into the artwork.

He lifted his arm and looked up. His own distinctive eyes held a glint of resignation, the scant cocking of one ear captured in the artist’s mind as he completed the painting.

It was a duty. A job. An assignment no different than prowling the banks of the river for centuries.

While Ryan embraced it, Bo bucked against the restraints, his constant search for something he could control leading him by the nose.

And Alex accepted it, because it was what it was.

He lay in the darkness for hours as the revelry continued into the early morning hours, the absence of the rising sun wreaking havoc on his ability to track time.

This was home.

Chapter Thirty

Alex stretched hisarms out across the cool marble of the bath, craning his neck to watch Hades as he approached, Ryan padding alongside.

His master grinned at him, tossing a towel within reach. “So this is where you’ve been hiding today.” He chuckled. “Your twin is still facedown in a bowl of wine on the banquet hall floor.”

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