Pitchfork Page 19

  In a flash, Hades’ arm shot out, and the cracking of bone shattered Athena’s sobs. Hades’ fist viciously punched through the Old One’s massive rib cage and closed around his heart. Hot blood ran down her forearm as the strong beat pounded against her palm. Every pair of eyes fell wide in shock, and not a soul moved. Hades stood stone still, a murderous rage blazing through her features, and then slowly she turned to the three-eyed god in an act of defiance and yanked. Her hand ripped from the back his chest, clutching a still pulsing heart. The monster spat bubbles of blood from parted lips as the mallet dropped harmlessly behind him, thudding to the ground only a second before his monstrous form did.

  Holding the three-eyed god’s gaze, Hades hoisted the heart for all to see and then squeezed. Blood spurt from the organ onto her face as her fist constricted until it was nothing more than a mangled pulp of flesh. Dropping it to the dirt beside the body, Hades lifted her bloody fingers and swept them through the air as if she were dismissing a soul from her court. Inky tentacles of black smoke sprung from Alkaios, enveloping all the Olympians and dragging them safely to Hell.

  “So, you were bait,” the three-eyed god murmured as the raven-haired beauty stared motionless at her, eyes cold and vicious. “It is no matter.” The old woman walked to Hades and wiped a drop of blood from the younger woman’s cheek. Her touch rippled beneath Hades’ skin, forcing its evil on a lethal trajectory toward the beautiful woman’s heart with only one goal, to blacken the still untainted soul.

  “It will not be long before you are under our hold. I believed you to be already, but I was mistaken,” the elder continued, surveying to the two dead bodies whose life seeped red into the mountain. “A mistake I paid for, and one I will not make again. But it is of little consequence. Your father’s power runs strong through your veins, and it is far greater than what we lost today. That power, my child, I am willing to wait for. Soon… soon you will be one of us, and then nothing will stand in our way. Our reign will be absolute.”

  Without responding, Hades stepped backward and disappeared in a twisting mass of darkness.

  “We had them!” Hades bellowed the moment her body materialized in the Underworld’s throne room. “They were within the trap, and you hesitated!” She stormed toward Zeus, who stood clutching his mangled shoulder, but Hades did not care. She did not care that Hera cradled the sobbing Athena in the corner or that Poseidon sprawled crippled on the floor. “They could have been imprisoned behind that seal, but your hesitation cost us our surprise.” Hades jabbed an accusatory finger into Zeus’ pained face, her hand and forearm still soaked in blood. Black smoke twisted and curled around her, an extension of her rage, and her eyes shone almost blackened in her skull. The chamber fell silent, afraid to move for fear of the violence that rippled from Hades’ skin.

  “They were not all there,” Zeus said in a placating tone, trying yet failing to raise his hand to halt her steps.

  “Trapping half of them would still be better than none. Your stupidity has killed you all.”

  “Hades,” a voice rumbled behind her.

  “Silence!” Hades screamed, whirling around and shoving her dark power forward into the body of who interrupted her. Alkaios flew backward with a harsh snap of his neck and slammed into the stone with a cry of agony. He clutched his obliterated ribs as Hades’ power sailed past him to collide with the ancient walls of the throne room, a resounding crack reverberating where it hit. Not a single person drew a breath, their bodies recoiling in fear and shock.

  Hades heaved, chest bucking as she stared at her husband on the ground, and as quickly as her power had unleashed, it shrank back within her. Horror clouded her eyes as realization hit, and Hades rushed forward and scooped Alkaios’ battered torso into her arms.

  “I am sorry.” Hades placed her fingers on his shattered side. Dark power seeped from her skin into Alkaios, and the bones cracked beneath her palm as they reformed, snapping back into position. Feeling the last rib knit together, Hades rested her forehead against her husband’s and let the comfort his warmth ignited wash over her.

  “I can feel them more and more,” Hades whispered against his skin. “I do not know how much longer I have. I fear today may have been the last time I will ever help you. The old woman made it clear that they will only welcome me once the Hades I am is a forgotten dream. I doubt we will get another chance to trap them, and I am terrified of what our failure might have cost us.”

  “The horned god,” Alkaios said, shifting to look her in the eyes. “The one from your visions. He was not there.”

  “Their king?”

  “Yes. I was concerned what it would mean if we trapped his brethren behind our seal without him. With you locked away, we would have no chance of trapping him. It is my fault. I was worried that if we loosed our trap today, he would know you were bait. They would only fall for it once, and if we are to win, it is he who we must confine. It does not matter now. My hesitation cost us our upper hand.”

  Hades looked at Alkaios and without a word, bent forward and kissed him gently on the lips. Standing up, she turned to where Poseidon sprawled and placed her hand on his leg. The bones straightened and healed beneath her palm, and then Hades moved to Zeus and lay her fingers on his shoulder. The shattered socket reformed, and the bones and sinews knit together until no sign of damage remained. At least her greater power was worth something. Gods could not so easily heal the wounds inflicted by one another; Hades herself bore witness to the scares adorning her body from the Olympian’s blades, but it seemed as the power leaked from her, Hades had conquered this failing. At least she could heal the gruesome wounds her ancestor inflicted before they slaughtered the Olympians.

  “Thank you,” Zeus whispered as Hades’ fingers dropped from his broad shoulder, leaving sticky blood streaks painted over his skin.

  “Do not thank me,” Hades said bitterly, “I have done nothing but prolong your death.”

  The Underworld was silent in the darkness, not even the pad of bare feet could be heard as Hades’ toes slid over the cold stone. Unobserved, her graceful form crept through the dark like a lion stalking prey, the pitchfork gripped in her fingers. It had taken her seconds to leave the bed she shared with Alkaios and steal the pitchfork as he slept, and as Hades made her way to the throne room, her eyes glazed over, feet walking without direction. Her body moved absent of haste, the night consuming her as she passed the bedrooms of countless sleeping gods. Not a soul stirred. Their slumber made them oblivious to the death that roamed the halls.

  Uninterrupted, the queen wandered into the cavernous chamber and halted before the twin thrones. Darkness began to ebb and flow around her, twisting like smoke snakes, and the pitchfork thrummed beneath her fingertips.

  “Hades,” came a strong, deep voice. The words echoed, bouncing off the cavernous walls, and for a moment, the night air held its breath. “Don’t.”

  With a slowness that made her movements almost imperceptible, Hades twisted until she faced Alkaios whose hulking frame hovered in the entrance.

  “Hades,” he begged, seeing the glaze in her beautiful eyes. “Please.” His voice broke. “Come back to me.”

  “The first have risen,” Hades said in a voice that was not entirely hers. “We will rule again, and the blood of your race will be the holy sacrifice we resurrect our empire on.”

  “I will not let you have her,” Alkaios said, staring through Hades’ eyes as if he was speaking to the horned god himself, and with a powerful leap, he launched into the air. The ground beneath him cracked as his feet pushed off the stone, and his body propelled toward his wife. Arms outstretched, Alkaios’ mass flew at Hades, colliding with her smaller frame with a thud that reverberated in the darkness. The two of them crashed to the floor in a tangle of flailing limbs, and with graceful force, Hades flipped him over onto his back, pinning his neck with her knee.

  “You cannot win against us,” Hades growled, angling the pitchfork for his throat, but Alkaios wasted not a single momen
t and thrust his hand out to seize her dress by the collar. With a harsh pull, he yanked her head forward and vaulted his forehead upward, colliding with her skull with a painful crack. Dazed, Hades teetered, which loosened her grip on the weapon. With a powerful strike, Alkaios slammed his wrist into the metal, sending the bident clattering across the stone. With a grunt of surprise, Hades flung herself after it, but Alkaios gripped her thighs and pulled her back. She landed with a thump astride her husband, thrusting her hands wildly for his neck. Alkaios flinched and caught her wrists, restraining her struggle, and yanked her down to hover her beautiful face over his.

  “Let her go,” Alkaios growled, anger spewing from his lips. “Return her to me!” At his words, Hades froze; her body suddenly rigid above him, and her dark eyes drifted to his in an icy glare.

  “You will never get her back,” Hades said with a coldness that stabbed Alkaios in the gut. “She is ours now,” and with that declaration, Hades forced her hands to his throat. Alkaios caught her wrist, but her strength bent him to her will, her fingers clutching his neck with an iron grip. Alkaios coughed and gagged as her chokehold crushed his windpipe. He bucked and roiled beneath Hades’ constricting thighs, but her grasp never wavered. The corner of his vision blurring to black, Alkaios released her wrists and with a massive swing, punched his wife in the ribs. Hades tumbled to the tile, gasping in pain, and Alkaios was unsure if the blow hurt her or him more. He did not want to do this. It was killing him, but Alkaios would not let them steal Hades from him.

  “You cannot have my wife!” Alkaios bellowed into the darkness as she crawled over the floor toward the pitchfork.

  “Fool!” Hades spat, whipping her head backward at an awkward angle to glare at him. “We already have her!” And in a flash like lightning, she vaulted across the stone to the weapon, fingers clawing to grab hold, but before her hand closed around the cold metal, Alkaios’ heel crashed into the pitchfork. The force clattered it out of her reach.

  Alkaios lunged to scoop the skidding bident into his palm, but it was barely within his grasp, when his wife barreled into him. Hades threw him ruthlessly across the room, and with a resounding thud, Alkaios’ spine slammed into the wall before he crashed to the floor in a heap. Hades sprinted forward and plucked the weapon from the ground when a solid mass landed before her. A massive bicep struck out, colliding with her chest, and Hades flew back and landed hard on her tailbone. The wind knocked out of her, she gagged on her own breath as her eyes tilted up to see Zeus’ towering hulk. Hades cocked her head as he loomed, and her lips curved in a wicked grin. With a flash of dark smoke, she vanished.

  A moment later Hades was behind Zeus and with a vicious kick to the back of his kneecaps, sent Zeus plummeting to his knees. His head whiplashed as her fist slammed into his exposed neck, and Zeus’ torso careened forward until his broad palms collided with the stone, harshly jolting his toppling weight.

  “We have already won,” Hades said without remorse as her body entwined with darkness. “Yield, and we will kill you quickly. Your deaths will be clean. Fight us… and you will suffer as no gods have suffered before,” and with that she vanished, leaving only a thin tendril of smoke snaking through the air like a faded memory.

  Hades strode through the burnt carcass of Olympus, a skeleton in ash. She took no precautions to remain hidden, walking out in the open instead. A victor among the ruins. All who saw her halted in their tracks as she walked past them, yet Hades spared them neither hesitation nor a glance. With great purpose, her feet carried her to the throne room doors, and with palms pressed to ancient heavy stone, Hades heaved and swung them wide.

  A hush fell over the chamber, the only sound and movement the colossal doors crashing shut as Hades entered. All manner of deformed gods crowded the room, clamoring for a glimpse of the unnatural beauty invading their vanquished space, but Hades paid them no mind. She cared not for the small or the weak, but instead for who sat on Zeus’ conquered throne. The true god returned.

  Under the sea of eyes, Hades strode onward, darkness leaking from her skin, pitchfork striking the stone with heavy menace. The three-eyed elder of prophecy stepped forward to intercept her, but Hades brushed past the hag with indifferent strength and continued to the throne until her toes scraped the dais’ steps. A host of spears greeted her, swinging down in challenge, but her body flinched not at their aggression. Her progress halted by tipped metal, Hades simply lowered her chin in respect, a bow that only extended to the necessary muscles required to bend her neck. Respect without prostration was all Hades intended to give, and her head remained bowed for a moment before her eyes slowly crept up until they met those of the King, the god almighty of her ancestors.

  He was a monstrosity to behold, almost double Hades’ build. His enormity was not entirely his mass, but his presence, as if his power consumed all of the space, a beast of unimaginable size. His colossal frame barely fit in Zeus’ throne. His hulking muscles bulged, threatening to rip free from his dark, leathery hide. His body loosely resembled a man with legs, arms, and torso of immense power, but his head was that of a gigantic horned bull. Huge curved horns protruded grotesquely from his skull, dyed rust brown from the blood of those he skewered. His black eyes stared down at Hades with an animalistic hunger that would make a lesser god’s skin crawl, yet Hades did not flinch as she held his oppressive gaze.

  After a long moment, the monstrous horned god lifted a calloused hand that could crush a man’s head with a single fist and waved it as he stood, looming to his full height. The spears rose, and his muscled thighs carried him down to settle before Hades. His frame towered over her with a menacing stature that dwarfed her lithe shape.

  “My child,” he said, voice harsh and demonic. “You have come to take your father’s place.” The King took Hades’ chin roughly in his fingers and forced her face up to meet his gaze. Hades’ spiteful glare matched his viciousness, which drove a small chuckle from his cruel lips. “Welcome home, god of death.”

  XX

  The world began to burn. The skies turned to ash, and the seas churned dark and violent. The green of the land decayed, and crops blackened with rot. Even Alkaios’ farm, which had been blessed to always bear fruit, faltered as the poison of the first gods seeped into everything that was once good and pure. Mountains erupted in lava, flooding the earth in hellfire and brimstone as if the earth itself was corrupted by the evil unleashed. Peasants and kings alike were swallowed whole as the tainted ground opened up beneath them. Cavernous gaping wounds ripped through the earth ravenous to swallow all in its path. Nothing was left untouched under the Old One’s rule.

  Alkaios, Zeus, and Poseidon stood at the edge of a burnt field, the smoke and raining ash the only remnants of what had once flourished. It had been days since Hades had abandoned the Underworld and returned to reign on the carcass of Olympus. Alkaios knew in his soul as he surveyed the scorched and violated earth she would not return to him. It was too late, and the world would pay for their mistake, their failure to stop the raging tyranny.

  Overcome with a suffocating sense of despair, Alkaios stepped forward to hide his face from the brothers. He wandered over the blistered ground, feet leaving indents in the ashen dirt. His toes dug the ravaged vegetation as he walked, searching for anything that resembled life, but it was a barren wasteland, irrevocable destruction. His eyes wandered over the bleak landscape landing on a stalk, though darkened by death, which was not the same brittle blackness the rest of the field had been reduced to. Alkaios moved toward it, his hands bending to capture it of their own accord. He rubbed it between his thumb and fingers, bruising the already damaged leaves. How many times had he examined the crops of his ailing fields like this worried they would die before harvest? Memories of his mortal farming days of fear and discouragement over his faltering crops were nothing compared to the obliterating carnage before him now. When Hades had come to him those years ago in a lie, her blessing had been on him and his land. Growth and prosperity had once flowed from he
r touch, but no longer. Death followed Hades, her destruction absolute.

  “How long before the Underworld is no longer safe?” Zeus asked his brother once Alkaios was out of earshot. He stood solid and immovable, massive arms folded over his chest, thunderbolt clutched in an iron grip.

  “Was it ever safe for us?” Poseidon’s tall leaner frame mimicked Zeus’ stance.

  “No, but it is our only haven, the only place these demons have not come crashing down upon, but for how much longer? They took Olympus and are now taking the earth. How long before they cast their eyes to Hell? Hades will want her realm back.”

  “Technically, it is his realm now,” Poseidon said, jerking his chin toward Alkaios.

  “He may be the Olympian King of the Underworld,” Zeus scoffed, “but we all know it is the mother of darkness those beasts follow. Alkaios holds great power, but it pales compared to hers. That is what I am afraid of.” Zeus shifted his mass to look his brother in the eyes. “Those beasts are obedient to Alkaios because Hades asked it of them. They do not harm us because she demands it. It is all because of her. Alkaios is king, but Hades is the mother of death, and all children are loyal to their mothers. Right now, they are probably the only things keeping us from obliteration, but it was also in Hades’ best interest to have them guard the Underworld. If it were not for her, Athena’s brain would be painted across that stone, but now that she has abandoned us? What happens when Hades returns with a legion of mad gods? What happens when she requires entrance into her realm? The Underworld, the beasts… they will have to choose between her and her husband? Do you have any hope they will side with Alkaios? No. It will be our throats they rip out, not Hades’.”