Page 97 of Love and Death
“Hypnos, would you tend to Eros’ body and keep it safe until my return? He deserves a proper ceremony once all is said and done.”
“Of course,” the God of Dreams says with a low bow.
“And Hermes, I have a message I need delivered.”
30
CERBERUS
“Hurry,” I bark hoarsely at the last few souls still wandering the shoreline, grabbing one side of the gate as I get ready to close it. “If you do not move, I will have no choice but to shut you out!”
My voice is heard, despite the dullness in their eyes, and I let out a stuttered sigh as they turn to shamble toward the gate. I turn to look over my shoulder at the shifting forest, watching for any sign of Hades’ imminent arrival.
The first of the remnant souls shuffles through, a small smile on her worn face. She mumbles something about her sweet precious, and I get the impression that she is speaking of a cat as she strokes an imaginary shape. I urge her to move quickly down the path, and I sincerely hope as I watch after her that they are once again reunited before the day’s end.
The next soul stumbles trying to get through the gate, and I bend to grab his arm and pull him to his feet,but the moment I do, a growl forces its way through my teeth. His very skin crawls with the testimony of his wretched abuses, and I have half a mind to make him face Hades’ slaughter … but even that would be too kind.
My beast continues to snarl at him for another minute before I am distracted by another wave of dizziness, and press a hand to the still-bleeding wound at my side. I tried to bind it earlier, tearing my shirt to shreds in the process, but to no avail.
Pained, and slowly bleeding out, I usher in the next wave of souls. Though faint, I can feel the earth tremors beneath my feet to the march of men.
The trees will not hold Hades and his men hostage much longer. I can almost feel the ghost of his leash tightening around my neck once again.
I should slam these gates shut, and lock us in.
But one soul remains behind, unmoved since I first glimpsed him with the others. He is tall, for a mortal, broad-shouldered, with a brutal look about his features, like he has been in one too many fights and won. Though his shoulders tell a different tale ... one of burden. Heartache. Guilt.
It is a little hard to tell from here which one weighs heaviest on him.
“I am going to shut the gate again,” I call out after another minute, when he still does not move. “I do not know when it will next open.”
“Shut it, then,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’m not ready to pass through. Not yet.”
I cock my head slightly out of curiosity. It is not oftenthe souls talk back, and less still that they refuse to step through the gates.
A breeze wafts in from the Styx as I continue to watch the young mortal, and in the midst of the river’s bleak odor, I smell his past life. Sweat and sour wine, the salt of tears hidden in pain, the faintest scent of—nightshade.
I straighten, my brow furrowing as I look him over more carefully.
“Are you the brother?”
“What,” he says, his curated indifference gone in an instant.
“Are youherbrother,” I repeat, adding a little more specificity.
“Is she here?”
“Hmm, I suppose that depends on whosheis,” I press.
“For all I know, telling you her name will only hurt her.”
Spitting hellfire,he is determined not to tell me anything.
I lean back against the gate, my eyes narrowing on him. “Fine. Why areyouhere then?”
“I came looking for her, after her father—” he stops, swallowing the rest of his words.
“Was poisoned withnightshade?”
