Page 13 of Right Hand Of The Reaper
I stared at the lanky demon in the household livery and frowned. “Harold. What are you doing?”
“Greeting you in a manner that is deserving of the Grim Reaper,” he said with a bow and a flourish.
I stepped back, narrowly avoiding being clipped by his arm as he swung it grandly in front of himself. Oh, yeah. I wastheReaper now. I really hoped this was temporary. How the hell did Thane put up with all this schmoozing?
I scooted around the butler whilst he was still bent in a bow and hurried to the lift. Thankfully there was a car on the ground floor, and I could make a quick escape. That whole interaction had made me incredibly uncomfortable.
Hades’ personal quarters were on the top floor, far away from all the ceremonial rooms. It always surprised me that he didn’t sleep in the room next to his precious throne. I knocked on the large, ornate guilt doors and waited. He was still a King, and I was quite fond of my head where it was. I’d learnt the hard way that it was better to knock. The last time I entered without knocking he revoked my topside privileges for ayear. A whole year. The bastard could be cruel.
“Enter.”
I took a breath – not that I really needed to, being dead and all – and entered the God’s domain.
The room was flooded with light from the floor to ceiling windows. From here, you could see for miles across the city of Infernium. All the way to the Weeping Mountains and the Lake of Sorrows. Every time I stepped in here, that view stole my breath.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
I turned to face the owner of the deliciously deep, melodious voice and smirked. “Meh, I’ve seen better.”
His eyes flashed with fire at my blatant lie. I never knew if he was pissed or if he enjoyed it when I lied, but the guessing was half the fun.
“Enjoying the soul collecting?” I asked as I stepped closer to his ridiculously large desk. It was a monstrous thing in a rich mahogany that shined in the sunlight. Hades sat behind it, his dark hair pushed back from his forehead in a fauxhawk, his long fingers steepled in front of his perfect mouth and a frown dragging his perfect eyebrows down above his perfect eyes. His face was so perfect it was disgusting.
“It’s certainly been illuminating,” he replied.
I chuckled as I dropped into a seat opposite his desk and threw my feet onto the edge. His frown deepened into a scowl, but he didn’t say anything. “Not as easy as it looks, is it?”
“No.”
“You could always let G.R.I.M start handling it again.”
“I can’t do that. Not whilst Thane is being investigated.” He leant back in his chair letting his waistcoat stretch across his broad chest.
I shrugged. “Was worth an ask. Who do you have on the difficult ones?”
“The Deathwatch.”
Ooh. They were actually pretty good and, more importantly, reliable. They’d do a pretty decent job. The Deathwatch were created by Hades millennia ago to protect him from all the people he kept pissing off. They were terrifying, and legendary in the same way the Bogeyman was. Normally, the Deathwatch were sent on missions requiring finesse and assassinations which made them highly skilled. It surprised me that Hades was willing to spare his precious Deathwatch for something like this and a little bit of hope and happiness fluttered deep in my gut at the thought that he might have just done something nice for me. I’d never tell him that though. “So, youcanmake a sensible decision once in a while.”
He scowled at me again. “You do know I can have you executed, right?”
“Yeah, but who would annoy you then?” I smiled sweetly at him. “I think you’d miss me if I were gone.”
“Like a hole in the head, maybe,” he said harshly but there was a hint of a smile about the corners of his mouth.
“You really should smile more. It improves your face.”
What little smile there was, vanished. “I have no need for smiles.”
And there was the soft spot I had for him growing. It was moments like these, when I saw something a little more real, that stopped me from hating him completely. Only someone riddled with sadness would have no need for smiles.
“Well, at least the Deathwatch have more use than your Royal Guard,” I commented, moving the conversation back into a safer territory.
“Roux,” he warned.
“Hades,” I mocked.
“What is it you want?”
