Malacoda finishes his moaning as the bottom half of his face grows back. His recovery does little to the spite in his eyes as Hades levels this new challenge and threat. But from somewhere deep within, a flame flares, filling my chest as it drives my shoulders back. With a new swell of pride, I don’t shy my gaze from any of the indicting ones that are ready to tear me down. The souls that don’t want me to grasp my overwhelming truth.
They can’t break me.
They don’t even scare me anymore.
And not because Hades is my keeper right now.
Nobody in this chamber can deny—or fight—the reality that brought me here. The destiny I dared to follow. The love that I chose above all else. The power that’s so much higher than all of them. They hate me for it, that much is undeniable, but they’re helpless in the face of its brilliance. The faith I have in its fortitude.
“We shall seek him out with haste, my lord,” Malacoda offers, his tone undeniably more reverent.
“A most passionate plan. Remember, however, that Kane is not condemned. You are to return him to me unharmed.” Hades moves forward again, disconnecting his clutch on me. He leans over to brace his hands atop the dull black tabletop. “And one more thing. Whoever succeeds shall have the added prize of inviting this lovely demoness into their district, to do with whatever you wish.”
“No!” I cry, earning no one’s sympathy.
The crowd is still rank with contempt. And the room is still empty of Charlena. My one ally. My only family here. While I feared the fate I’d find in the third circle, I had desperately reassured myself that she might advocate for me there.
Malacoda leans forward. The wretch is back to being his seedy, snotty self. His beady eyes gleam. His demonic ears twitch. “Oh, I already like the sound of this game.”
Hades is one step closer to manipulating all of hell into taking down the man I love.
I’m a shivering mess from the thought alone, but when he casts an arrogant glance over his shoulder as if he knows it, my blood turns to ice. What is going on in his determined, diabolical mind?
He pivots back around, clearly and completely in his element, holding court with the wicked crew who await his will with held breaths and bright, turbulent stares. He stays like that, sucking every drop he can get of their adoration, before speaking again.
“The demigod is likely on his way to try to kill me.”
He finishes with a wide smirk as every creature in the room but me erupts into wild laughter. It’s no surprise when Malacoda bellows over everyone else, his shout as raucous as a frat boy’s.
“We can’t have lovesick bastards thinking they can wield power in our midst, can we now?”
More laughter ensues, no doubt welcome comedy relief for the fearstruck leaders of Hades’s kingdom.
But during the briefing that follows, my premonitions are validated in a thousand awful ways. I force myself to listen as Hades lays out a detailed plan that earns him a rising tide of his captains’ approving cheers—and a growing storm of dread in my terrified heart.
I can’t endure a moment more of their slimy stares and salivating glee.
So I run.
I run as fast and as far as I can, past brutish guards and whimpering souls, until I reach the one place in the palace that feels like it could be safe.
Chapter Thirteen
Maximus
Unlike much of this journey, the Gale is exactly what I imagined it to be. Freezing, stinking, and disorienting. Sleet comes at us from all directions, bearing disturbingly dirty flecks along with its giant ice chips. I’m grateful that Gio’s inner compass is functioning better than mine, making it possible to dig in and follow his slipstream until we’re free of the debris.
When we finally stumble free, we both fall to all fours to get back our breath. I grimace at my hair, most of it pulled from its tie and dripping with muck.
“And I thought a hostile Hollywood press corps was the worst cyclone I’d ever face.”
I don’t respond to the old man’s quip until I can push all the way back to my feet. “Before they threw a three-headed dog at you in the form of a paparazzi crew?”
Gio hurries back to a full stand as well. “Sounds about right. With any luck, this beast can be appeased with some smiles and a candid exclusive.”
A nice thought, but I’m not placing a lot of hope on it as we trudge forward. With every step, the ends of my nerves and the depths of my blood fuse with fiercer intensity. Nothing like the looming prospect of facing the world’s most notorious hellhound to make a guy forget he’s not in LA anymore, even if I’m trying to remember every pro tip from every junkyard mutt encounter I’ve ever had.
“Maybe we caught a break,” I say hopefully as we navigate canyons between huge cliffs of calcified refuse. “Maybe having three heads means three times the need for naps?”
“I doubt we’ll be so lucky,” Gio drawls as we progress farther.
On each side of us, there are steep walls formed from layer upon layer of strange-colored debris, courtesy of millennia of abuse at the whims of the Gale. The peak of every tower resembles a defiant mohawk, and I begin to think that given the right lighting and landscaping, the tapered towers would even be beautiful.
At once, I jerk my head to clear the thought. There are a lot of circles left between here and Dis. I need to be on guard through all of them, not admiring the scenery like I’m planning to write a poem about it later.
An extremely fitting reality check—considering the snarling canine that charges down a scum slope at us.
“Holy ssshhh…” I backpedal a few stunned steps.
Gio’s with me but drops into a battle crouch. Lowering to Cerberus’s level never entered my mind but no doubt is the smartest move.
I’m pretty sure the hellhound doesn’t see or care.
All three of the beast’s heads are openmouthed and slavering. One barks nonstop at us. The middle head is already tossing from side to side, as if ready to shred us raw. The third is consumed with gnarls and growls I’ve never heard outside of horror movie double features.
“I’ll try to take the left head,” Gio grits out.
“No, I got this,” I growl.
Gio may look a couple decades younger here, but his strength is nowhere close to mine. Finding Kara is my first mission. Keeping Gio safe is a close second.
But before I can insist on it, a new din hits the air—the terrifying thunder of massive paws pounding the ground as Cerberus makes a twelve-foot lunge at us.
Gio doesn’t hesitate, lurching forward into the attack. But the beast barrels right past him and lands a chomp into my shoulder.
I holler from the blast of pain, but nothing in my life has prepared me for the hound’s toxic-waste breath.
“My God, who’s been playing fetch-the-corpse with you?”
It’s the snark or the quick progress I make unhinging its maw from my flesh that inspires the beast’s middle head to come at me with a vicious growl in my face, gifting me with a second dose of halitosis. Past the point of profanity, I grimace and wonder if my skin’s about to peel off. I’m dizzy to the point of losing my footing. One stumbling backstep leads to another.
At once, Cerberus senses the give in my balance. I tumble to my back, overtaken by his savage pounce. With the wind punched out of me, my vision swims again. I barely comprehend one of the heads descending to strike, and my swerve is too late to avoid his brutal bite to my other shoulder. The dog howls again, though I can’t discern the difference between its glee and frustration now. But that’s far from the important takeaway as it rears back and sets up for another strike. I grimace, preparing to give up my face. Or worse.