Pitchfork Read online

  “Are you all right?” Alkaios called as he sprinted past, not slowing to help the crumbled woman.

  “Fine,” Keres murmured as she watched god and beast disappear down the hall. Her palms drifted behind her and pushed her from the wall, and with absentminded strokes, she rubbed the painful welt swelling on her head. Hades had never raised a hand in violence to her. Not once, not ever, and Keres knew something had to be wrong. She should follow her mistress, but she hovered in the darkness too concerned to move.

  Alkaios chased his wife through the fortress. He had never witnessed Hades move with such speed, and despite the raw strength coursing through his legs, he failed to gain on her. It was as if Tartarus itself clawed at her heels, the look in her eyes that of a crazed and cornered animal.

  “Hades!” Alkaios called, and in a twisting mass of black inky smoke, he disappeared only to materialize seconds later outside the door to the Underworld. Hades screamed at the vision of his bulk barring the door, eyes wide with terror as she dug in her heels. Her feet skidded, desperate to stop, but her speed propelled her forcibly careening through the door. With a bone-jarring impact, she collided with Alkaios’ solid chest. The force sent them sprawling to the ground in a pile of intertwined limbs, and as fast as a bolt of Zeus’ lightning, Hades scrambled over his prone body. Before she could escape, Alkaios shot out his fist and caught her ankle. Hades wrenched her foot, but his iron hold refused release, and Hades careened forward. Her face slammed into the dirt, grit flooding her mouth as she heaved in anxious breaths. A scream ripped from her lungs, and her nails clawed the dirt. Hades spit the dust from her tongue as she thrashed, frantic to free herself from Alkaios’ fist.

  “Hades!” Alkaios bellowed. “Wake up!” He yanked her ankle, hauling his wife across the ground. “My love, wake up.” He seized her waist with a thick bicep and with a groaning heave, pinned her beneath his hulking weight. When mortal, Alkaios had been powerful for a man, but the day Hades gifted him her power, his mass grew in strength. He was imposing and massive, yet as she thrashed in screaming terror, his wife was almost impossible to contain. Despite Hades’ smaller stature, her strength rivaled his with ferocious brutality.

  “Hades,” Alkaios called over her protests, voice softening. “Hades, please.” At his soothing tone, her struggling calmed, and her gaze slowly settling on his handsome face. The blood from his broken nose dripped down his skin, and Hades’ breath jerked from her ragged and terrified.

  “They are dead,” Hades sobbed. “They are all dead.”

  “No one is dead, my love,” Alkaios whispered, pulling his weight off her and lifting her frame into his lap. “You were having a nightmare.”

  “They are!” Hades insisted through desperate tears. “They are all dead. Their blood… I’m wearing it!” She glanced down as if to prove her words only to have confusion cloud her eyes when she saw only dirt stained her palms. Hades looked back to her husband, the blood dried on his lips the proof she searched for. “See.” Her fingertips ghosted gently down Alkaios’ cheek to find the flaking rusty drops. “All are dead. It is their blood we wear.”

  “Hades, you did this when you bolted from bed. You broke my nose. This is my blood, and mine alone.”

  “Could I really have been dreaming?” Hades sobbed, clutching at his chest for comfort. “It felt real. I could have sworn the bodies were real.”

  Alkaios woke hours later. In the early morning, he had finally calmed Hades enough for her to speak the blood-soaked dream. He had listened in the dark with his fingers clamped around her hands, and when her racing heart slowed to its normal rhythm, he had fallen asleep, cradling his wife flush against his chest.

  Alkaios shifted in the sheets and found Hades long gone, her pillow abandoned and cold. Alkaios exhaled, the air a rush as it escaped his lungs, and shoved the blankets from his legs. His spine no longer cracked and groaned with the burden of mortality, but he still stretched out of habit as he wandered into the silent hallway. The air felt empty on his skin, telling him he was alone, and Alkaios disappeared in tentacles of black smoke.

  Moments later he stood on Charon’s boathouse. Mist shrouded the Ferryman as his boat pierced the River, but Alkaios could vaguely see the outlines of the souls he bore to their judgment. Ioanna rocked her sleeping daughters’ lazily on the dock as she watched her husband’s skilled form slice through the Styx.

  “I think they like the babes,” Ioanna called over her shoulder. Confused, Alkaios opened his mouth to question her, but Keres chose that moment to exit the house. She smiled at the king and nodded toward the dark shore before shuffling to Ioanna. Alkaios shifted his eyes to where she indicated and was surprised to find both Kerberos and Chimera lounging lazily in the sand.

  “I should let them meet the girls once they grow older,” Ioanna continued with a tired but blissful smile as Alkaios settled behind her. “They seem almost protective of my daughters.”

  “So it is only me the dog takes offense with?” Alkaios laughed.

  “The dog holds no one but his mother in high regard,” Keres smiled. “He tolerates us. The lion is slightly better, but it appears not even the monsters of Hell can resist the charms of baby girls.” She scooped one of the sleeping infants into her cradling arms and kissed her silky head, savoring the scent all newborns wear upon their skin. Alkaios’ lips turned up in agreement and with tender care, lifted the child’s impossibly tiny fist into his palm.

  “Is Hades here?” Alkaios asked as he rubbed the soft knuckles. The child’s skin was perfectly smooth, and Alkaios felt he could be content to simply sit here on this dock with her small hand in his. “Or is she with Charon?”

  “I have not seen her this morning,” Ioanna answered.

  “Not since last night,” Keres chimed in foreseeing his question as she absentmindedly rubbed the back of her sore head.

  “Hmm,” Alkaios mumbled and left before either woman could ask if there was reason for concern. “Come!” he commanded as he passed Kerberos and Chimera, and without challenge, both hauled themselves off the sand. Monsters in tow, Alkaios returned to the fortress, delved deep within his own mind. He searched for Hades’ presence, and when he felt her like the sun on his skin, the three of them vanished in tentacles of inky smoke.

  “Alkaios!” Hades blurted, bolting to her feet. Her limbs shook violently as she closed the distance in two strides, and Alkaios enveloped her in his strong arms. He crushed her to his heart hard enough to break her bones, but her strength withstood his fierce embrace as Hades clung to his chest.

  “What are you doing here?” Alkaios asked as Kerberos and Chimera circled Hades to rub their skulls against her legs. They had found Hades huddled in a section of the fortress’ rubble none of them had set their sights on before. Alkaios knew this ancient home of the Titans was extensive. Rooms and corridors were shrouded in dust, unseen for centuries and destined never to have eyes view them again, and finding Hades so far from all they knew concerned him.

  “I am not sure,” Hades answered as she pulled back to look into his mud-blue eyes. “I woke up deep in the fortress and did not recognize my surroundings. I wandered for hours but only succeeded in confusing my directions. Eventually, I sat knowing you would come for me.”

  Unsure how to respond, Alkaios clung to his wife. Hades was not a woman who lost her way in her own realm. She was not a woman to sit and wait to be rescued. Something was wrong with the woman he loved, and an ugly fear churned Alkaios’ stomach as he brought her back to the familiar rooms they called home.

  IV

  “This is not Hades,” Alkaios said, voice carrying through the mist. “This is not the woman I married.” He sat on Charon’s boat as the ferryman shoved his pole deep into the riverbed. The thick fog clung to their skin, only parting long enough for the vessel to slice through before enveloping the water once again with its heavy curtain.

  “She is the rock our Underworld was built upon,” he continued, meeting Charon’s gaze. “She may have times of
uncertainty, but she is the one we pray to… not a woman who loses herself in her own home.”

  “I wish I knew the words to help you,” Charon said. He drew the pole from the resisting mud and let the ferry drift through the rippled current. “Her transfer of power is unprecedented. No god has ever gifted their divinity to another, especially a mortal. Zeus transferred Olympian divinity to Hades when he so-called created her, but that had no bearing on Hades’ rise. No man-made god could possess the strength required to shatter the seal to the Underworld like she did. This realm was hers since time began. If you had asked me, I would have told you that transferring such power was impossible, but the universe saw fit to grant her request. You became Hades, but I do not think you were meant to. Hades was destined to be our god. Her control of the depths was absolute, and against all odds, remains so. The darkness still craves her, still bows to her. The fortress birthed a second throne so your reign would not usurp hers. If your fate was to ultimately seize power, she would have been merely a placeholder; a figurehead destined to fade once you rose to the throne, yet our domain has refused to allow that. She rules the darkness despite her stripped title. I believe Hades, deep in her soul, is our god, but her sacrifice caused a gap between her reality and her destiny. Perhaps her mind cannot handle the fragmentation.”

  “So this is my fault,” Alkaios sighed, running a hand through his hair. His body deflated like sails being purged of their wind, and he felt small amidst the endless fog that blanketed the river.

  “No.” Charon sank to a seat. “You are not to blame. Hades made a choice, and perhaps I am mistaken. Perhaps her actions were preordained. Only, the pitchfork prefers to answer to her. Kerberos loves her only, and Chimera chooses her before you. Keres and I serve you loyally, but we are your family. We differ from the beasts, but we bow to Hades. That will never change. Power is not something to abuse. You cannot treat it carelessly without repercussions. This is the only explanation I can see, but by the gods, I hope I am wrong.”

  Keres sat with Ioanna and Hydra in the boathouse, eating pomegranate seeds and watching the triplets sleep. Alkaios and Charon had disappeared into the mist a while ago and had yet to emerge.

  “Hades should join us,” Ioanna said, wiping red juice from her fingers. “I have three daughters and three friends. She should come help so I do not have to hold any children when you all visit.”

  “Motherhood tiring you already?” Keres laughed.

  “Yes,” Ioanna said with a teasing smile. “I was so happy when I discovered I was with child, but triplets! Someone is always hungry.”

  “In time they will be grown, and you will wish they were home with you instead of trying to ride demon horses or chasing Hydra’s snakes.”

  “I know most mothers would balk at that statement, but if they want to chase Hydra and not me, then I will be thankful for the respite.” Ioanna laughed with raised eyebrows at the snake-eyed woman.

  “Speaking of Hades, where is she?” asked Hydra, her white-blue eyes glinting in the mist that crept its way into the house. The third god-killer of the Underworld, Hydra resembled an exotic woman until the deadly snakes of Tartarus slipped from her veins. For every one you killed two more were born until all was consumed in death and poison.

  “Not sure,” Keres answered not making eye contact.

  “Keres,” Hydra interrupted. “We aren’t fools. We know something is not right. I can feel it in my bones, something is shifting in her, cracking her. Besides, I scent the blood in your hair.”

  Keres fingers flew to her skull and feathered over the lump from the night before, a result of Hades barreling into her.

  “She did that to you didn’t she?” Hydra pressed.

  “Yes,” Keres blurted in frustration, “but this is no time to come against her.”

  “We are not coming against her,” Ioanna insisted. “I owe my life and happiness to that woman. I love my husband and daughters more than anything in this world, except for her. Hades possesses a spot deep within me no one can replace.”

  “We want to help,” Hydra added. “I know Hades and you have a bond that is unbreakable. You were the first to find her, and she holds you in high regard. I had just hoped you knew what the turmoil below her surface was.”

  “I do not wish to speak about this any longer,” Keres said, standing to leave. “It feels like blasphemy.” And with that, she left.

  Keres wandered through the fortress in search of Hades, but as her slight figure drifted from room to room, all she encountered was empty silence in the flickering torchlight. Hades was nowhere to be found, and standing at the edge of the light’s reach, Keres realized she would have to venture into the dark decay. Returning to the clean and lit sections they had transformed from destruction to a home, Keres settled into the doorway of Hades’ bedroom to find Chimera sleeping on his mother’s bed.

  “Take me to her, darling,” she said as his fangs yawned large in a lazy complaint. Chimera blinked his wide eyes and with a rumbling purr, slid from the mattress. Hades called her monsters darling, and Keres found herself repeating the term of endearment with more frequency. She was not sure when the shift in her perception of them had occurred, but as Chimera padded down the hall, a small surge of affection for the graceful creature thawed Keres’ heart.

  Following the lion through the dark rubble, they came upon the second doorway of the fortress. Hades had broken the sealed door that led to Tartarus and the Underworld, but this one opened to the rolling fields of Elysium. The scent of fresh grass wafted on the warm breeze as Keres closed the distance, and in the cheery light that spilled into the citadel from the heavenly fields huddled Hades and Kerberos.

  “Hades?” Keres called, but no sooner did her voice leave her mouth, Hades bolted upright and screamed. She scrambled across the stone floor in panic, leaving Kerberos to watch dumbstruck.

  “Get away from me, demon,” Hades spat, backing into the shadows. She was feral, a cornered animal.

  “Hades?” Keres inched forward but froze in her tracks when Hades flinched in terror. “It is me, Keres.”

  “Stay away from me!”

  “Hades, please…” Keres reached her hands out in a placating gesture, but Hades lashed out, slapping her hard across the face. Keres sprawled to the floor with a thud, a red flush blooming over her cheek.

  “Keres?” Hades questioned, suddenly recognizing the woman before her. She pushed off the wall and scrambled to lift her friend from the ground. “Is that you?”

  “Hades, what is happening to you?”

  “I do not know.” A hitched sigh escaped Hades lips as she sank against the doorframe, the cold stone contrasting with Elysium’s spring breeze. “I saw you, but to my eyes, you appeared as a monster. I did not recognize you.” A small tear escaped Hades’ eye and traced a slow path down her skin, and Keres’ heart broke. She shifted her weight and settled beside her queen, wrapping an arm around Hades’ shoulders. For long moments they sat side by side in comforting silence, Kerberos and Chimera curled on the floor before them.

  “I see what is not there?” Hades whispered leaning her head against Keres’. “I fear I am losing my mind.”

  Alkaios woke with a start as the bed pitched beneath him. He did not remember falling asleep. He had been laying beside Hades, their fingers entwined between them as they faced the ceiling deep in conversation. She had become nauseous during the evening meal they shared with their surrogate family, and despite her best efforts to conceal it, Alkaios had noticed Hades’ discomfort radiating through the air. Excusing himself, he had scooped her into his arms and carried her to their bedroom, her laughter bouncing off the walls as Keres and Hydra smirked at the antics of the newlyweds. It was not until they disappeared from sight that Hades sagged against her husband’s thundering heart. The fight seeped from her skin, and her temple rested on Alkaios’ collarbone in exhaustion.

  Both Kerberos and Chimera meandered behind them, their ever-watchful eyes protecting their mother as Alkaios
crawled over their lavish blankets to settle his wife among the cushions. They laid content in the silence, their breathing the only sound filling the space, and long moments passed where Hades had not moved save to place a hand on her roiling stomach. Alkaios left her in peace, unsure if touching her would cause further discomfort, but eventually, her fingers crawled across the mattress to seize his. Hades smiled into the air and recounted a story of Charon’s triplets that brought light to her beautiful eyes.

  The conversation flowed from their lips with tumbling speed after that, and as the night turned to morning, they felt almost normal; their troubles forgotten in their unending words. They talked about everything and nothing, and it reminded Alkaios of the nights they had spent together in their early days when a farmer and a woman named Persephone were desperate to learn all they could about one another.

  “Hades!” Alkaios’ heart leapt into his throat as Kerberos lunged with snarling fangs. His massive chest collided with the bed frame, the peace shattered by teeth shredding the air.

  “Hades, what is wrong with him?” Alkaios mumbled as he rolled to find cold, empty sheets as the dog crashed around the foot of the bed to shove his middle snout against her pillow. Kerberos’ outer heads stared poignantly through the night while his concerned eyes bore into Alkaios.

  “Where is she?” Alkaios asked, and Kerberos growled in response, snapping his teeth against Alkaios’ skin before lumbering anxiously toward the door. Alkaios flung the sheets from his legs and swung his feet to the stone. The moment his soles connected with the floor, the dog bolted for the doorway with the king hard on his heels, and together they plunged into the darkness, weaving through battered hallways no life had seen in centuries.