P. Hoover - Solstice

“Good,” he says.

And I know I’ve passed his test.

We start walking again in our fast forward way, and before long, we pass through a flat, metal plane populated with the dead, empty-eyed souls. As soon as I see them, every bit of laughter and happiness is sucked right out of me.

“You get used to it.”

I guess it shows on my face. But I shake my head. “I don’t want to get used to it.”

I don’t expect him to respond, but he does. “It’s reality, though, Piper. Just like above. Look at Austin. Some parts are nice, and you’d feel safe going out at night alone to walk your dog. But try to do that in the wrong area, and it could be the last thing you ever do.”

“Not if Cerberus were my dog.”

Shayne smiles and pulls me closer with his arms. “I could loan him to you.”

The image of me walking Cerberus around on the Drag fills my mind. Of course, there, he’d probably fit right in. “My mom doesn’t give me much opportunity to hit the seedier areas of town.”

Shayne leans over and kisses my cheek, making me want to press into him. “So maybe next time Reese comes around, you could employ Cerberus.”

The image of Cerberus tearing Reese apart limb by limb is a strange one. Would tearing the god of war apart limb by limb be able to stop him? I almost ask Shayne, but then decide killing gods is a conversation topic I don’t want to bring up given our bleak surroundings.

“Rhadam tells me there’s been trouble in Asphodel,” Shayne says.

“What kind of trouble?” I think of the pomegranate tree dying in the Elysian Fields. That had been trouble for Shayne, also. Things shouldn’t die in paradise. And I think about what else Rhadam said. About bad things brewing in other parts of Hell: secrets being kept and plans being made.

“Things not working right. Souls misplaced. Machines breaking. Even attempts to cross the river.” Shayne points to a house far off ahead of us. It’s up on a hill away from the city, and unlike the rest of the bleak Asphodel, the air seems fresh around it, and rays of light actually touch it. “And we’re going there to find out why.”

As to why Shayne decides to take me on this task, I have no idea. He can’t possibly think this is some kind of romantic date, and the closer we get to the house on the hill, the less I want to go. Even though it’s clear and crisp outside, the house itself seethes evil. But there’s no chance I’ll venture back through Asphodel without him. And anyway, if he is testing me, I don’t want to back down now. I want to prove to Shayne I’m tough like he is.

“Who lives here?” We’re at the top of the hill now. Almost at the front door. It reminds me of a retro Hollywood home. Lots of glass windows and steel beams, but the front door is ten feet tall and made of thick black wood—like the door of a fortress.

“Minos.”

I guess my blank expression tells Shayne I need more explanation.

“An old Cretan king. He’s the overlord here in Asphodel.”

“A king from Crete runs Asphodel?”

“An ancient king runs each of the territories. Minos here. Rhadamanthus in the Elysian Fields. And Aeacus in Tartarus.”

“Rhadam is a king?” I guess I never thought to ask this when I met him.

Shayne shakes his head. “Was a king. Here in Hell he’s only an overlord. They all are. I’m the only king in the Underworld.” He scowls. “Which more and more seems to be a point of confusion among the lords.”

I remember Rhadam’s deference to Shayne, so solid a part of their relationship it could never be in question. “Not Rhadam?”

“No, not Rhadam.” Shayne brushes his sleeves, and dirt vanishes off them. “He’s true to me through and through. And as it happens, the only one I can trust.”

We’re at the imposing door now, but Shayne doesn’t open it. Can he sense the evil which touches each and every one of my nerves? He lets go of my hand, and I look at him, ready to open my mouth and ask another question. But I stop. In a single moment, he’s ceased to be Shayne, the guy I’m sure I’m in love with, and has become Hades, supreme King of the Underworld. A force to be reckoned with.

He lifts his hand and knocks on the thick door—a knock so hard I hear the echoes through the windows inside the house. Nobody answers, but Shayne doesn’t knock again. Instead, he waits, and we stand there in silence until, after what feels like eternity, a lock clicks, and the door creeps open. Dead eyes greet us inside.

“I’m here to see Minos.” Shayne doesn’t ask; he states it.

The man who’s opened the door stares at Shayne. He’s got sandy blond hair, and from his engorged biceps, it’s obvious this guy spent way too much time in the gym back when he was alive. But now, here in Hell, does it really matter how much time someone spent in the gym? I wonder if he spent more time with his loved ones and less time working out if he’d have ended up in the Elysian Fields instead of Asphodel—Land of the Walking Dead.

“King Minos is busy.”

It’s the first time someone in Asphodel has spoken. Until this point, I’m not even sure they can speak.

Shayne’s face hardens, and I almost hear electricity sizzle off him next to me. “Tell Minos that King Hades demands to speak with him.” He omits the word king in front of Minos.

The man doesn’t nod or agree or shake his head. It’s only when he walks backward, away from us, and toward a long hallway that I realize he’s simply obeying Shayne’s command. The command of the King of the Underworld must supersede commands from one of Shayne’s minions.

Shayne and I stand there, still on the doorstep, watching him leave.

I lean close to him and put my lips to his ear. “Why don’t you go in and find him?”

He whispers back, not turning his head away from the room ahead. “Because even here in Hell, we have courtesies.”

“It doesn’t seem like Minos is being very courteous to you.”

Shayne gives his head an almost imperceptible shake. “No, it doesn’t.”

Another ten minutes later, and the blond shell of a man returns. “Follow me.”

We follow the steroid-ridden ghost man in silence. He has his back to us as he leads us first down a hallway, then through a breezeway to another wing of the house. Every step I take, a sense of dread weighs heavier inside my stomach. I look down and realize I’m clenching Shayne’s hand so hard my knuckles are white.

But Shayne doesn’t turn to me or comfort me aside from a brief squeeze of my hand. His face is frozen in a hard stare straight ahead. At the end of the breezeway, we stop in front of a glass room overlooking a flat, gray ocean with nothing else in sight.

“King Minos will see you in here.” The man moves aside, and gives us a clear view of the room ahead. Every wall is glass, and in the center is a stone chimney so large a Spanish Oak could burn inside without being cut.

Shayne doesn’t acknowledge our guide as he opens the glass door. He walks in, and I follow. I can’t see anyone in the room, but Shayne doesn’t hesitate. He skirts around the giant fireplace and stops at a chair on the other side. Amber liquid sits in a crystal tumbler on a table next to the chair.

“Minos.” Shayne’s voice sounds like razors slicing glass.

“Hades.” Minos doesn’t turn to face us; instead, he’s facing the windows overlooking the dull ocean. “So you finally decided to grace us with your presence here in Asphodel?” Every word Minos speaks scratches in his throat as it comes out, making it sound like it pains him to speak. A hand reaches from the chair and picks up the glass. He swirls it, making the ice inside clink up against the crystal.