CANINES, CROSSHAIRS AND CORPSES

by

ANGEL MARTINEZ

Amber Quill Press, LLC

http://www.amberquill.com

Canines, Crosshairs And Corpses

An Amber Quill Press Book

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used

fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

Amber Quill Press, LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

http://www.AmberHeat.com

http://www.AmberAllure.com

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the

exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

Copyright © 2013 by Angel Martinez

ISBN 978-1-61124-427-4

Cover Art © 2013 Trace Edward Zaber

Published in the United States of America

Also by Angel Martinez

Boots

A Different Breed

Fortune's Sharp Adversity

No Princesses Need Apply

Sub Zero

Wild Rose, Silent Snow

Dedication

This one is for several of my college professors-- if you're reading this, you know--who taught me that mythology is malleable and fluid rather

than static.

Prologue

"Grab that cable, Dio." Orpheus pointed with a drumstick as he packed up the last of the kit.
Dionysus, wild god of Wine and Ecstasy, threw him a mock salute. "Yes, your bossiness."
It probably should have annoyed him, the way Orpheus ordered everyone around after a show. Lesser deity and all that. But, damn, that had

been one sweet gig, everyone just completely

on and the crowd in tune with every change in pace and mood. His blood still hummed and sang with

it. Dio had to stop coiling the cable to adjust his overeager cock in his skintight leathers. Lots of grabby hands in the crowd that night, to his
everlasting delight, and he was raring to go, willing to do anything that got them to the after party faster.

He straightened and stretched to pop his spine, taking a moment to look around the club. A few employees lingered to clean up the tables in

the back but all the patrons had filtered out.

Almost all... Dio chuckled when he caught sight of the club's last occupant, a white-haired man in a black leather duster facedown on his table.

"Should we wake up Daddy Warbucks back there and see if he wants to come with?"

Hermes snapped the last guitar case closed and turned to squint into the gloom. "We probably...oh, damn. Dio, doesn't he look a little too

familiar?"

The excess of blackberry brandy made focusing a bit of a challenge, but Dio took a hard look at the broad shoulders, at short-cropped hair that

was silver rather than white. "Fuck."

Orpheus joined them, stepping over their faun drummer who lay snoring on the stage floor. "Oh, him. It's none of our business. Let's get packed

up and go."

"Might not be

your business, but that's my favorite uncle. And he doesn't do shit like this." Dio hopped down from the stage, Hermes right on

his heels, and jogged over to the inebriated figure at the back of the room.

"Uncle Hades?" Hermes shook one powerful shoulder gently while Dio examined the empty glasses.
"Jagermeister. Hell of a lot of it. Think he's out for a bit." Dio scratched his head, baffled. "Last place I'd expect to see Uncle Straight and

Narrow. What the hell was he thinking?"

Orpheus lifted a black clad arm far enough to tug out a sheaf of paper. "I'm thinking maybe this is a piece of it."
"Lemme see." Hermes snatched the documents before Orpheus had a chance to open them. His handsome brow furrowed as he unfolded

them and began to read, and then his mouth fell open in shock. "Shit. Oh, for the earth's sake..."

With his lips compressed in a taut line, he handed the papers to Dio. It looked like a lot of legal hoohah to him at first, stuff he couldn't even

begin to decipher, but then bits and pieces started to jump up and bite him on the nose.

"Divorce?" he squeaked. "Aunt Persephone is

divorcing him?"

"No, it can't say that." Orpheus scowled as he snatched the papers back. "You can't read worth shit, Dio." But a few seconds perusal turned his

glower into shock. "How can she...I mean, they've been together for how many centuries?" He kept skimming even as he spoke, turning pages
faster and faster. "Guys, this is bad."

"How bad?"
"Epically bad." Orpheus dropped the divorce papers on the table, shaking his fingers out as if the words had singed him. "She's kicking him

out, too. Keeping the palace and the dog."

* * * *

Hades woke to an unfamiliar sensation. Someone was pounding on his skull. No...the pounding emanated from inside his head.

Headache? I

don't have headaches.

When he opened his eyes, though, the unpleasant sensations only multiplied--dry, burning eyes, a sense of vertigo, coupled with...Great

Mother...nausea...

The disorientation took an odd slide sideways when he turned his head to find his nephews standing over him, extraordinarily worried looking

nephews. What mischief had these two perpetrated now?

"Uncle Hades?" Hermes inquired softly. "Can you hear me?"
The greeting he had intended manifested as an unwholesome, rattling moan.
"Yep. That's a sound I've heard before," Dionysus whispered as he settled on the edge of the bed with a glass of some viscous red sludge in

hand.

"Not from him. Ever."
"No, Herm. From me."
One of the two, he couldn't focus properly to tell which, helped him sit up, and then he found the noxious liquid held under his nose.
"Here, Uncle. Need to get down a bit of the hair of the dog and all that," Dionysus said in that same gentle whisper.
Hades stared at the glass in continued incomprehension. "I don't...eat dogs."
"It's an expression, Uncle Hades," Hermes said patiently. "You drank too much. You're most likely feeling what's called a

hangover. A little bit

to help the withdrawal, that's all. You'll feel better soon."

"How often do you feel this way?" Hades asked his younger nephew.
"Every morning after a party, Uncle." Dio held the glass out again. "It'll pass. I promise."
With a grunt, he took the glass, surprised how his hand shook. A few stoic sips later, unfortunately, his head cleared to the point where he

recalled the catalyst to this little jaunt into inebriation.

"Boys, I'm..."

Confounded. Floundering. At a complete loss. He clamped his jaw shut. To ask for help would be pitiful and ridiculous. He was a

Lord of Death, for Acheron's sake. The whole situation was beyond absurd.

"We saw the papers, Uncle." Hermes took the glass from his trembling hands. "I assume that's why you came to the club. To discuss the

matter."

He shook his head and grimaced.

No head shaking. What had he been doing? "She...asked me to leave. I left." Even that wasn't entirely clear.

Why had he simply left? He recalled the numbing shock of Seph's announcement, the papers in his hands, but he hadn't argued, hadn't said a
single word. He had turned on his heel and stalked out of their throne room of polished obsidian, out of the palace he had built for her.

"I heard Orpheus singing. The majority of the music was appalling, but his singing drew me. The lovely serving girl brought a drink. Then she

kept bringing them..." He halted on a puzzled frown. Perhaps events would make sense again someday. Now, he struggled to make sense of
anything. "Where are we?"

"My bedroom, Uncle. The one in my apartment in New York," Hermes answered. "We'll get this all sorted. Don't worry. Do you have lawyers?"
"Lawyers?"
"Never mind. Rest, Uncle Hades. When your head feels better, we'll see what we can do."
He lay back down and closed his aching eyes, shutting out the nonsensical world. It didn't prevent him from hearing Dio whispering to Hermes

on his way out, "Do? What the hell can you do?"

"Hush, Dio. Leave scheming to me, okay?"

* * * *

"Where are we going, boy?"
"Don't scowl like that, Uncle." Hermes turned his charming smile toward the girl at the front desk who sat under a golden

Domestica sign.

"You're scaring everyone in the tri-state area. We're going to see Auntie Hestia."

"Ah. This is hers?"
"Yes. Her company covers all sorts of domestic services from family counseling to catering and so on."
"How very...Hestia."
The girl looked up and returned the smile in what Hades thought was a rather foolish manner. "Good morning, Mr. Angelus. Did you have an

appointment with your aunt?"

"No, Jess, but I do need to speak with her. Could you call up and see if she has time for me?"
"I'm sure she'll make time." The girl winked, actually

winked at Hermes. "For her favorite nephew."

Hades raised a brow at that but Hermes only gave him an unrepentant grin.

Impudent troublemaker. But, yes, one of my favorite nephews, as

well.

The girl spoke into the phone for a moment, and then held her hand over the mouthpiece. "She must be watching you on the security cam. She

wants to know who's with you."

"If she sees us, she knows quite well who I am," Hades growled.
Jess listened to the phone again and giggled. "She says you can go right up, Mr. Angelus and bring your grumpy uncle with you."
Hades shot her his darkest glower but the girl didn't seem the least bit fazed. Tired, aching, he trailed Hermes into the elevator where his

nephew punched the button with the highest numeral. The doors reopened onto a lobby decorated in warm golds and browns, thick carpet and
tapestry-style wall hangings muffling sound, much to his head's everlasting gratitude.

A door at the end of the corridor opened, soft light spilling out to frame a slender, unassuming figure, one that made his heart ache to match his

head.

"Hestia?" Damn his voice for shaking. Damn his throat for closing up. He wanted to fall to his knees, wrap his arms around her waist, and

weep in her soothing embrace as he had when he was young. They were long past that now, though.

"Hello, dear. Hermes told me a bit about your difficulties."
"Why did you ask who I was?"
"I didn't recognize you at first without your armor, and, I'm sorry, darling, but you look terrible."
"Ah."
"I'll just stay out here, Auntie Hestia," Hermes said with an encouraging wave. "Make myself some tea."
Hades's oldest sister took him by the arm and led him into what he assumed was her office, though the resemblance to any offices he had

seen previously ended through the doorway. Seating groups of overstuffed couches and chairs dotted the room, potted plants and decorative
screens breaking up the cavernous space into manageable, cozy bits. Normally, he wasn't terribly fond of cozy, but he seemed to need it now.

He found himself gently pushed down on one of the sofas farthest from the window, and then Hestia fussed about pulling the drapes shut (his

eyes thanked her) and fetched a glass of nectar for him from a cold bar behind a large fichus. She sat beside him and took his hand, her tiny fingers
unable to close all the way around his but her warmth seeped into his bones. Goddess of Hearth and Home, one of Hestia's unfailing talents was to
envelop those who came to her in compassion. It wasn't unheard of for jaded soldiers and hardened, heartless merchants to collapse weeping in
her arms.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "This must be terrible for you."
"It...was unexpected." He stared at their joined hands, trying to glean some sense from the patterns of veins. "I wish I understood."
"I can see it's been a shock." She patted his hand. "Will you contest?"
He blinked at her, his world still tilting. "Contest?"
"The divorce. The particulars at any rate. Persephone seems to have left you homeless."
"Have you spoken to her, Hes?"
She frowned at him, her eyes searching his face for something. Then she nodded. "I have."
"What did she say? I need to know

why. She seemed content. And now...now...I feel as if someone's shot me full of poisoned arrows. I need to

know. Please."

Hestia heaved a nearly inaudible sigh and got up to fetch him more nectar. He hadn't recalled drinking the first glass. "Seph's interests have

grown over the past fifteen years or so. She's started her own company, you know. The Verdant Field."

"Yes. The herbs." He had listened to all her plans, all her excitement. He had thought it a

good thing to see her animated about something

besides seeing her mother.

"She told me that she's realized she never had a life of her own. She's always been shuttled back and forth between you and Demeter. Six

months under her mother's thumb, six months under your rule. She never had a chance to fall in love--"

He didn't manage to stop the wounded sound that escaped him.
"I'm sorry, dear, but I'm afraid there's truth to that. You kidnapped her, after all. Kept her in your palace until she had no choice."
"I never forced her to eat the damn pomegranate seeds. I always thought she did it as a way to stay with me. No matter what her mother said."

His voice sank to a whisper as he stared at the brilliantly colored birds on the carpet. "I've always given her everything she wanted. Whatever she
asked for."

"But not independence. Not a sense of self worth. And let's be honest, not a passionate, all-consuming love."
He jerked away from her. "I was always gentle with her. Considerate."
"Listen to yourself, dear. You know it's not the same." She kissed his cheek, most likely to leech some of the sting from her words. "You still

haven't answered my question."

"About contesting the divorce." He shook his head. "I haven't...what reason would I have? She doesn't want me any longer. I would never force

the issue. It's not as if many souls come across the Styx any longer. She can sit in judgment in those few cases as well as I could." He put the glass
down on a side table and buried his head in his hands. "I'm obsolete, Hestia. Superfluous. What is there for me in this world? Perhaps it's time to--"

"Don't say such things. Ever."
He lifted his head, shocked. It had been centuries since he'd heard such ferocity in her voice. Not since she'd armed him for battle against their

father. "Hes?"

"You have decisions to make. If you decide your primary residence is no longer in your own realm, you need to decide where you will live. What

you intend to do."

"Do?"
"Yes. Modern gods don't simply sit about and eat ambrosia. That would be disgraceful." She wrapped him in a warm embrace. "Obviously

you'll have to return to your realm every few weeks or so. For your health and for the Underworld's. But the rest of the time, you need to decide
where you'll live. What you'll do."

"I can't...toss her out of the palace, Hes. I built it for her."
"And Cerberus?"
He shrugged, suffocating under layers of defeat. "It's his home. He belongs there."
"I see." Hestia rose and he took that as a signal that their little chat was over.
"I'm sorry for bringing this to you, Hes. Not something you can solve for me."
She took his arm and led him back to the antechamber. "Never apologize for needing someone to listen." With a little flourish, she opened the

door. "You have people worried, Hades. Concerned that you will fade away from brooding."

He expected Hermes, who lounged in the same place he'd left the boy, and it was touching to see that Dionysus had joined him, sober and

more or less respectable in black jeans and a military-cut jacket. But the third figure in the room made him blink in surprise. The man unfolded from
the lone chair by the outer door. Dressed head to toe in black, his long, pearlescent hair falling past his shoulders, his cadaverously thin frame
stood taller than the door.

"Charon?"
"My lord, you should have come to me."
And told you what, old friend? That I was drowning in shame and confusion? He couldn't bring himself to say those things, though, and simply

shrugged.

An ironic smile tugged at the corner of Charon's thin lips. "Loquacious as always, my lord."
Hades confronted each worried face in turn, a sudden thought creeping up to bite him in the kneecap. "Is this what the humans call

an...intervention?"

"Just a small one, Uncle," Dio offered, those huge, dark eyes with which he seduced countless conquests of both genders devoid of their usual

teasing. "I love having new playmates but the thought of continuously finding you facedown in bars every night is disturbing."

"Uncle." Hermes put his teacup aside and sat straight. "Do you intend to stay in the human realm for a while?"
"It seems so."
"Perhaps one could find a better occupation than professional souse, then, my lord?" Charon clasped his hands behind his back, rocking on

his heels.

"Occupation? I have no need of funds."
Hermes waved dismissively. "None of us do, really. But most of us, except Dio, have a distinct lack of worshippers these days. Helps sustain a

god, you know, keeping involved in the human world."

That much he knew. He did bring his chariot and team up to the human world every month for a midnight excursion. Without human contact,

gods expired, or so all the legends said. Perhaps it was true. He did begin to feel restless and overtired, almost as if his bones itched, if he stayed
away for months at a time.

He shoved a hand back through his hair, muttering, "What would I do?" Then his head jerked up to pin Dio with a hard gaze. "What do you do?

Besides play appalling music?"

The wild god spread both hands before him and offered a warm smile. "Wine, Uncle. Humans still adore it. I have wineries in every major

grape venue in the world."

Ah. Of course. He turned to Hermes. "And you?"
"I started years ago with a messenger service. But the modern world is about instant connectivity. My communications company does quite

well."

He knew what Hestia had chosen as her occupation. Hades frowned. All so obvious for them, but his attributes didn't transfer quite as well to

the mortal realm. "Char?"

"I have a small business, my lord. A funeral home. It fills a need for me."
Again, of course. Charon had guided souls from one life to the next. Apparently, he still did.
Arms crossed tight over his chest, Hades leaned wearily against the wall behind him. "I have nothing to offer this world."
"Let's think on that a moment, dear," Hestia said with a pat to his shoulder. "You are a warrior. A fierce one."
He shook his head. "Modern warfare is a barbaric and terrible thing."
"You've sat in fair, honest judgment for centuries, Uncle," Hermes said encouragingly. "Surely that translates."
"I'm given to understand that the legal systems here are...often less than fair. And notoriously corrupt."
"Law enforcement?" Dio said with a frown.
Hermes made a squeaking sound. "Oh, Great Mother, can you imagine Uncle Hades having to take orders from someone

else?"

"Ah, no."
Charon glided across the floor to him and put a hand on his sleeve. "My lord, I have a thought. If you like, we might discuss it over lunch. You

look as if you could use something substantial at this point."

With a long, bony arm over Hades's shoulder, Charon effectively captured his bemused lord and led him out. The divorce papers had left him

drained, all the family interest had left him baffled, and he simply had run out of resources to resist.

Chapter 1: Beside A Different River

"I truly need one?" Hades squinted at the intimidating selection Charon had brought him.
"My lord, you can't house the Night Horses here and I don't believe chariot driving is legal on the highways. No matter what speed."
"Huh." His understanding of his new occupation suggested that he would require something powerful, something with a potential for superior

speed, and perhaps if it impressed humans aesthetically, it might help business.

Business. What an odd thought.
Charon sighed. "You're not taking this seriously, my lord."
Oh, but he was. The issue was that assimilation into this world was not a matter of slow absorption. It was being

hurled at him like a boulder

barrage from attacking hundred handed Hecatonchires.

He pointed to a low-slung, ferocious-faced possibility.

It's not a face. It's a grill. "I rather like this breed. Er, model."

"Ah. Very you, my lord, the Viper. Fierce and powerful." Charon leaned over his shoulder to view the brochure. "Perhaps Hephaestus would go

with you when you make your final choice. To ensure its sound construction and such."

Footsteps pounded down the staircase all too close to Charon's studio apartment. Yet another siren sent its tormented-soul wail up from the

street. Both hands clutched in his hair, he tried to stave off headache number twelve since he had left home.

"Char," Hades choked out. "I don't like your new home."
"I'll admit it's a bit on the modest side, my lord--"
"No. Not your apartment." He gazed around at the shabby austerity. "Though surely you could have done better."
"Not in New York. Then what?"
"This city. The psychic noise is deafening. The physical noise almost more so. There is simply too

much with no peace between. I'll soon have

screaming, raving fits if I'm here much longer."

Charon cocked his head. "Potentially interesting." At Hades's snort, he waved a hand as if to negate his previous statement. "Pardon, my lord.

Not the time. We needn't stay here. There are several cities nearby where you may feel more comfortable."

"Comfortable. Yes." He waited until Charon had brought him that infernal machine, the

laptop, though why it was called such a thing when it

always sat on a table was beyond him. "I'd like a quieter city. Something not so unceasingly animated but where the humans would still need our
services. A place by a contemplative river. Will this thing tell me all of that?"

That ironic quirk had returned to Charon's bloodless lips. "I'm sure if you ask it politely, my lord. I'll help you."

* * * *

Three weeks later, Hades allowed himself a moment of dark exhilaration as he flung his new Viper (Adrenaline Red) around impeding traffic.

Hephaestus had made modifications allowing him to whisper to the vehicle to render it invisible, so he had no concerns regarding local law
enforcement, and he made full use of the

whole road, shoulders, pull offs, and the occasional low median.

The Viper's engine roared its delight, answering his every demand with eager obedience. He cut left around a large truck with fruit painted on

the side, then right around a three-vehicle military convoy, and finally had open highway stretched out before him. He slammed his foot to the floor,
giving his new steed its head as it leaped into high acceleration.

A soft whimper came from his right and he shifted his eyes to find Charon curled against the passenger side door, the handle clutched in a

bone-creaking grip.

"Char? Are you ill?"
"My lord! Eyes on the road! Please!"
He eased off, cutting the speed back down to ninety. "You can't be frightened."

Not one of the Underworld's most feared denizens. Surely not.

"No." The word came out small and choked. "But could you perhaps not try quite so hard to render us two-dimensional pavement streaks?"
"You're as safe as you would be in bed." The little directional device on the dash spoke softly to apprise him of the impending exit. "We're

nearly there, at any rate."

Concord Pike, the overhead sign proclaimed. It had a peaceful sound to it, but so far, this smaller state seemed no better than New York. Too

many hurtling metal boxes intent on too many petty errands.

The feeling changed abruptly off the interstate, though. Despite the late autumn chill, he opened the window as he slowed to a more sedate

pace, driving down increasingly less traveled streets. Many humans in the area, yes, and there were the overlays of psychic pollution, but
more...muffled somehow. The earth's energies flowed at a less frenetic pace here. The trees, so silent in New York, sang secrets to each other as
they should.

Charon had relinquished his desperate grip on the door and watched him closely. "Better, my lord?"
"So far? Yes."
This was Wilmington, a city bejeweled with several small rivers, all wending their unhurried ways down to the broad expanse of the Delaware,

just as the rivers of the Underworld fed into the Styx, a place where the roots ran deep and not every breath was a shout.

When they arrived at the address, Charon dealt with the real estate agent while Hades wandered in distracted fascination around the

apartment. Condo. Hermes and Dio kept reminding him it was not an apartment if he owned it. His balcony on the seventh floor overlooked the
Brandywine, a friendly, chortling river that struck him as more content in its bed than most. To his left, two bridges sat side by side, one a smaller
trestle bridge, the other a great construction of arched stone. To his right, the river disappeared around a tree-lined bend.

"Mr. Plouton? I just have a couple more papers for you." The breathless, twitching agent hovered suddenly at his elbow. "I've gone over

everything with your assistant, sir, but I do need your John Hancock on these."

His brows drew together as he frowned down at her. "I'm afraid I don't have one of those."
Charon leaned in the balcony doorway, his expression carefully not amused. "Your signature, my--sir. She needs your signature."
"Ah. You should say what you mean, miss."
When she had bustled out, leaving papers, keys and remote for the parking garage on the dining room table, Charon came to stand beside

him at the rail. "Will it serve, my lord?"

He drew in a deep breath, drinking in the subtle melancholy of the evening. "Yes. Yes, it will."
"The railroad bridge won't bother you?"
Hades followed Charon's gaze to the larger of the bridges. A train rumbled across it now, the noise muted like a distant roll of thunder. "No. Not

at all."

"Have you thought of a name?"
"For the business? I had thought of Acheron Investigations but now, standing here, I think Brandywine Investigations would be better. Humans

would find it more palatable, wouldn't you think? More welcoming?"

"An excellent choice, my lord. I'll finish the website in the morning."

* * * *

Ti hitched his coat up higher, trying to turtle down into the frayed wool. The wind bit right through. If he could find himself a new pair of balls, he

might head down to the Mission, see if they had a space for him tonight, but Fleece might be there. Fleece would...

He shuddered and shoved the bubbling mess of his thoughts down into the dark. No. He'd find a place out of the wind, somewhere he could

look like just another pile of trash. Fitting.

A crack in the sidewalk tripped him. He stumbled against the side of a building, head spinning.

Was I drinking? Can't remember. What he did

know was he hadn't eaten much in days. Money panhandled over at the train station went to booze. Yeah, it was pitiful, but he didn't care anymore.
He could go Dumpster dive at The Queen. The staff turned a blind eye there most days, but it was blocks away by now. He didn't have the energy
left for the walk.

No, better to hunker down for the night. Find an alleyway that wasn't occupied and a sheltered corner. He tried to find comfort in the fact that he

wasn't in Chicago or Buffalo this time of year. It could've been a lot worse. There was a promising alley. Dumpster. Corner nook. Not a lot of light.
Hard to say if someone already occupied the space. Guys could get mean about someone muscling in on their spot.

He tripped again, this time over a pocket of air, apparently, since there wasn't anything to trip over. He crashed down on one knee this time,

teeth bared against the pain.

What was the last food I had? It doesn't matter. Really, it doesn't anymore.

The corner behind the Dumpster was unoccupied. He sank down amidst the stench of piss and garbage, found some cardboard to pull over

his body, and curled up by the wall. The dizziness and the shivering fought for precedence, his little remaining strength draining from his limbs. It
wasn't what he had envisioned when he came home, but best laid plans and all that shit. With a soft breath of resignation, Tiberius Snyder lay down,
wondering if this might be his last night.

* * * *

"My lord, I don't think this is how it's usually done," Charon protested as he trailed Hades into the complex's garage. "Client contact first. Then

case. Then investigate."

"How will clients know to rely on us if we have nothing to our credit?" Hades thumbed the button on his car remote and the Viper flashed its

lights in eager welcome. "And it isn't only the wealthy that need justice. Those who can pay for our services, will. Those who can't, shouldn't need to
wait for the authorities to care."

"Point taken. Just don't start calling yourself the Dark Knight."
He regarded Charon across the car's roof with a puzzled frown. "Why would I?"
"Never mind, my lord. Idle chatter."
Despite Charon's odd, opaque sense of humor, he was a practical being and had suggested that the Viper might attract unwanted attention in

places where they might not wish to be remembered.

He stroked the Viper's hood and whispered, "

Aoratos." The metal beast obediently faded from sight.

"I do wish you would wait until we were

in the car."

"It's not as if the door has moved."
Charon had developed the disturbing and thoroughly modern habit of rolling his eyes, which he did just prior to fumbling the door open and

vanishing inside.

The police radio, on which they had first heard the reports, had been an interesting addition to their home. Most of the condominium's contents

had been in place prior to their arrival, ordered by certain nephews and nieces who were all excited about helping Uncle Hades as if he were some
sort of new challenge to their collective ingenuity.

Hermes had chosen most of the furniture, heavy, masculine pieces in dark, soothing colors. Dio had stocked both pantry and refrigerator, with

as much thought to pleasing food as to drink. Hephaestus, after coaxing from his brothers, had chosen artwork for the walls and sculptural pieces
both decorative and useful, some of which he had forged himself. Aphrodite had been more than pleased to be included in the boys' project,
insisting that they leave the choice of dishes, glassware, and linens to her.

But the radio, Charon had produced. Once he explained its uses, Hades found it not only a valuable addition but also a fascinating window into

his new city. The codes were a bit of a mystery, at first, but Charon located information on his infernal all-knowing machine that explained them.
After that, the calls served as a map and timekeeper of lawbreaking, showing where and when certain crimes happened with the greatest
frequency.

At the first murder, a knifing, Charon had shrugged. "The very poor are susceptible to violence, my lord. Theft, drugs, simple bad luck. A man

without a home has few defenses."

The second murder of a homeless man, a shooting, still left his faithful ferryman unconvinced. "They hardly seem related, my lord. Different

parts of town. Different methods."

But Hades kept all the details tucked in a corner of his mind, so by the third murder in four days, a strangling this time, he was ready to act.
"You're suggesting a systematic extermination, my lord?" Charon had asked in alarm.
"I suggest nothing on such sparse knowledge. But we need to be out there. To feel the flows of minds and hearts. Something is amiss here."
While Charon protested, he didn't press. They had known each other too long for that. As he eased the invisible Viper out onto the street, their

first foray into investigation began.

* * * *

Hurried, uneven footsteps woke Ti. He lay still, heart pounding with the memory of a hundred nightmares where running footsteps pursued him

in the dark. Though sleep still blurred his eyes, he just made out the silhouette of someone standing nearby, facing the mouth of the alley. The
someone's breathing came in labored, whimpering gasps.

Ti struggled to sit up. He wasn't in any shape to fight for his little piece of real estate. The best he might manage would be to curl up in a ball if

this person had violence in mind.

Maybe it's too dark to see me. Maybe this guy will ignore me if he does. Of course, his luck ran true to form and

the figure headed directly toward him.

A sharp pop ricocheted in weird echoes through the alley. The dark silhouette staggered. A scattering of leaves from above pulled Ti's

attention to the flat roof on his right, just in time to catch a hint of movement. The man in the alley, he could see it was a man now, in a dirty down
jacket and stocking cap, took three more steps and collapsed to his knees right in front of Ti, a dark stain spreading down his white thermal shirt.

"Oh, God...someone shot you." Ti whispered. "Holy shit."

I need to call 911, he thought frantically before he remembered he no longer had a

phone.

I need to get help...

Before he could get his exhausted brain to stop spinning, the man pitched forward, thumping down into Ti's lap.

No pulse...oh, fuck...

"It was here, my lord," a strangely accented voice called from the end of the alley.
"Yes. Though I think we've come too late," a rumbling bass answered.
The light of passing headlights illuminated the two newcomers, one massive and broad-shouldered, his face grim and forbidding, the other tall

and cadaverously thin, his features giving the impression of skin stretched too tight over bone.

Ti cried out in horror. Death had finally come for him.

* * * *

"This one smells of death but he still lives." Hades cocked his head to one side. "Seems to have fainted."
"Blood on his hands, my lord. Do you suppose he killed the other?"
"Doubtful. We heard a gunshot and this one has no weapon." He stood from his crouch to glance around. "Ah. The shade is still here. See what

he will tell you, Char. They're always too frightened to talk to me."

The dead man's ghost wavered nearby, staring at his former soul-house in disbelief. He startled, flickering when Charon approached him.
"It's all right, sir," Charon held a hand out, palm up. "You're past pain and sorrow now. Past grief and regret. Did this young man kill you?"
The shade cast an anguished look to where Charon pointed and shook his head. Then he pointed up, to the flat rooftop on the right.
"I thank you, sir. Now you must let go this mortal tether. Go now. Turn and find the way."
The shade seemed to have some revelation, the fear clearing from his face. He turned away and faded from sight.
"You couldn't have asked who

did kill him, I suppose?" Hades growled.

"No, my lord. He wasn't one who would've spoken to us, and he was in such pain. Better to send him on."
Charon did know best about these things. Hades eyed the roof. "Put the boy in the car."
"My lord?"
"The police will most likely blame an innocent soul for lack of another if they find him here. Not only that, he may well be in danger as well.

Perhaps he saw something." He backed two steps, gauging the distance. "I'll join you in a moment."

As he took a running leap and caught the lip of the roof, three floors up, he could have sworn he heard Charon mutter, "Show off."
With a grunt, he heaved himself onto the roof, crouched low in case the gunman still lurked nearby. Only a trace of soul resonance remained.

He trailed it to the far edge of the roof and peered over the edge. A ladder led to a metal fire escape. The murderer had fled that way but there was
no sign of him now.

Hades bent to pick an object up and pocketed it. There were others. He would leave them for the police. When he returned to the car, Charon

had the young man folded awkwardly into the inadequate backseat.

"What did you find?"
"Shell casing." He held it out to Charon. "We should try to ascertain what sort."
"Of course, my lord. Are we taking your foundling home?"
He glanced back at their passenger. Starved, filthy, and obviously ill, he probably should have been in a hospital. But then the hospital would

most likely only keep him a day or two and turn him out again into the cold.

There are no good choices here, only the right one.

"Yes. Yes, we are."

Chapter 2: Mortal Foundling

Ti woke slowly to a place of soft light and dark, subterranean colors. A stern, imposing figure dressed in black occupied one of the large

armchairs nearby, light glinting off his silver hair.

This must be Death's place. He blinked a few times, trying to focus. Huh. Death looks hotter than I'd imagined. And he's got a ThinkPad?
Somehow, Death using high-end electronics seemed...wrong. He tried to sit up but didn't get much past a shift of his shoulders and a moan.

Being dead wasn't supposed to come with raging headaches, either.

"Ah. You're awake."
The bass voice, one deep enough to sing Fafner in the freaking Ring cycle, rumbled through his bones. Ti swallowed hard and tried to answer

on a throat too dry for even a whisper.

Death's frown deepened. "There's water on the table beside you."
Ti turned his head. A beautiful crystal pitcher and matching glass winked at him from a coffee table of black granite. He lifted a hand to pour

himself a little and stopped, appalled by how badly his fingers trembled. No way was he going to manage it without breaking something and getting
water all over Death's nice living room.

Setting the laptop aside, the intimidating figure rose from his chair, poured for Ti, and went so far as to help him drink, a large hand cradling

the back of Ti's head. From this angle, it was hard to miss the solid muscles under the black dress shirt.

"Thank you, Mr. Death, sir."
"Pardon? Oh, no, boy. I'm not Death, though I know him, of course. It's an all too common mistake."
"Oh." Ti wished the room would stop spinning. Seriously, if this was being dead, it was just like being alive and it sucked. "Who are you then?"
"Hades."
"I guess...that makes sense. Have I been dead long, sir?"
Silver brows leaped up at that and Ti found himself staring into the most unusual blue eyes, a dark, belladonna flower blue.
"Why would you think yourself dead?"
"Sir," a less profound bass voice said from a few yards away. "Think about what you just told him."
Oh, that must be Death, then. Ti shuddered. The God of the Underworld was seriously gorgeous, in a scary sort of way, but this other guy was

about the creepiest thing he'd ever seen. He had to be almost seven feet tall and maybe weighed one-fifty soaking wet. His long, white hair might
have been pretty on someone else. On him, it just added to the whole Crypt Keeper effect.

The dark blue eyes flicked up and back, obviously puzzled. "Ah. I see."
"One of your nephews is on the phone for you, sir."
"Thank you. I'll take it in the study." Broad-shouldered hotness wandered off to another room while skeletal creepy took the vacated chair.
The smile, with its too sharp canines, was not at all comforting, but the voice that came with it was oddly gentle. "Sorry about that. He's a little

challenged communication-wise. Especially when he's thinking." A long, bony finger pointed the way the big man had gone. "That's Aiden Plouton,
owner of Brandywine Investigations. I'm Karl Stygian, his assistant. And you are not even slightly dead."

"Then why did he say he was..." Ti stopped, too dizzy to continue.
"Nickname." Karl chuckled.
Weird. If I don't look at him, he sounds normal. Nice.
"But there are no three-headed dogs here and we are most definitely in the mortal realm. You look like you're about to faint again. Are there

medical issues we should know about?"

"I...don't think so."

Starvation, clinical depression, what medical issues?

"Could I get you something?"
"A drink? Something, you know, a little stronger than water?" Ti turned his head far enough to watch the scary smile fade into a flat expression

he couldn't interpret.

Karl rose abruptly. "I think we'll have to say no to that. When did you eat last?"
"Um..."
"I see." Karl muttered to himself as he stalked to the kitchen, visible through an archway at the end of the room. "I'm

not equipped to deal with

this sort of thing. Soup. Soup is good for things like this, isn't it?"

Ti listened to him knock about in the kitchen, letting his eyes drift shut.

Why am I here? The place was so damn quiet, he could hear the rise

and fall of Mr. Plouton's softly accented voice in the study. Greek, if he had to guess from the names, though he had no idea what a Greek accent
sounded like. Ti couldn't make out the words in the rumbled half conversation, so he manufactured some.

Why, yes, officer, he's obviously homeless so he must've been up to something awful.
Of course, sir. No one would ever be homeless who was sane and respectable, so there's always a good reason why guys are. You want us

to swing by and lock him up for you?

Maybe in a bit. I may just use him as food for the alligators in the moat.
Very good, sir.
The pretend dialogue in his head cut off when Karl returned from the kitchen with a bowl of soup and a plastic wastebasket. Creepy

appearances aside, the exterior obviously camouflaged a nice guy with a practical side.

Ti struggled to sit up against the high arm of the sofa, the slide and rustle of fabric calling attention to the fact that someone had spread a sheet

underneath him. Again, practical, since he was filthy. His stomach battled against itself, repulsion and longing clashing over the scent of chicken
soup.

"Not sure this is a good idea," he said and swallowed on a wavelet of nausea.
Karl perched on the edge of the coffee table, spoon held out to him. "Just try. You look like you haven't eaten in a week."
You look like you haven't eaten in a decade. Ti held his breath and took the little bit of soup from the spoon. The heat sliding down his throat

did feel good. Damn good. He took another and kept allowing the spoon-feeding until half the bowl was gone. Then the little lapping waves of
nausea became a storm surge and he snatched up the wastebasket to heave his guts up.

That never gets easier, no matter how many times you

puke.

"Sorry." He let his head plunk down as Karl took the wastebasket from his trembling hands.
Karl's nose wrinkled in obvious distaste, an expression so oddly not Crypt Keeper that it made him so much more human. "Well, you tried.

Rest. I need to...do something with this."

With the wastebasket held at arm's length, Karl retreated to the back of the condo, probably to a bathroom since Ti heard water running shortly

after. Even with the short time in his stomach, the soup had done some good, though. He felt a little steadier, a little less like he was staring at the
world from the bottom of a bowl of consommé. His hands only shook a little as he picked up the water glass to sip at it. Whiskey would have been
better, but he could wait a bit on that. Not too long, but the real tremors hadn't started yet.

A door opened in the far wall and Mr. Plouton strode back out, brows drawn together in a dark frown. "What were you doing in the alley where

we found you?"

Dying. "Just trying to find a place out of the wind for the night."
"You have no place to sleep?"
"Oh, sure. I just like crashing in cold, dirty alleys. Makes me feel all adventurous and stuff."
"Do you? Odd."
Karl came back from wherever he had been, wiping his hands on a towel. "Sarcasm, sir. He's not serious."
"Ah." A muscle in Mr. Plouton's jaw twitched.
His very strong, clean-shaven jaw. Too bad he doesn't have any expressions besides various frowns.
"What did you see last night?"
"See?"
"Yes. A man died in that alley. Surely you saw something."
He opened his mouth to answer, and then snapped it shut again. The way this man spoke, not in a condescending way but in a tone that

implied he was accustomed to unquestioned obedience, nearly had Ti's brain disengaged. "Why am I here? Wherever here is? What do you want
from me?"

Silver brows crept up in surprise, though otherwise Mr. Plouton's expression remained unchanged. "We found you in an alley with a dead man

in your lap. From what we learned, you could not have killed him. We took you with us to spare you entanglements and misunderstandings with law
enforcement. And I have questions."

"Okay," Ti drew out the word. "Thanks for that, I guess. But why do you care about the dead guy?"
"Sir," Karl broke in softly before the big guy could get out whatever angry growl was boiling behind his eyes. "We're going about this backward.

What's your name, young man? You didn't have any identification."

Ti glanced between them, trying to use his new, hard-won street smarts to determine if there was any reason he shouldn't tell them.

Oh, fuck it.

"Tiberius Snyder," he blurted out, not sure why he gave his full name. People always laughed when he did, or tried hard not to.

Neither one of these dudes even smirked, like Tiberius was as normal a name as Mark or Tom and pairing it with Snyder wasn't at all absurd,

like he was the Roman Emperor of potato chips. He'd often wondered what his mother had been thinking.

"Well, Tiberius." Karl waved his boss to the big chair, presumably so he wouldn't loom, and perched back on the edge of the coffee table. "As

to why Mr. Plouton's interested, he has suspicions about the recent string of murders, all homeless men. He's investigating the possibility of a
connection between them."

Ti blinked at him, feeling lost. "Someone hired you to investigate the deaths of a bunch of bums? Some suddenly concerned relative's your

client?"

Mr. Plouton pinned him with a look so stern and hard, Ti flinched back against the cushions. "My clients are the dead."
"Um...oh." Ti fiddled with the blanket, unable to meet those cold, blue eyes a second longer.

Damn, he's scary. And weird. A detective who

works pro bono? Though I guess if you have enough money, you can take cases for free.

"What did you see?"
Again, he checked against his internal alarms. There had to be a reason not to answer these sorts of questions, right? Again, his tired brain

couldn't come up with anything. "I didn't see much. Fell asleep and woke up when I heard footsteps running toward me." He gave a one-shouldered
shrug. "The guy looked behind him once. Not sure he knew I was there until he was right on top of me. Then there was this pop sort of sound, like a
tire blowing and the guy keeled over in my lap."

"Did you see anyone else? Or where the shot came from?"
Ti shook his head, trying to remember. He'd been sleep-fuzzed and terrified. At the time, he hadn't even been sure what he'd heard was a

gunshot. "Some leaves fell off the roof."

Instead of looking at him as if he'd lost his mind, Mr. Plouton opened a hand, palm up, encouraging him to go on. "Yes?"
"I...I thought I saw something move, but I can't really say. I guess the guy with the gun could've been on the roof."
"But you didn't see the person on the roof? You're certain?"
Was he? He'd seen...no. He'd only seen a shadow against the cloud-swept sky. "It was dark. I just saw something move."
That jaw muscle twitched again, creases in Mr. Plouton's forehead joining his frown. "Pity."
He sat there a moment more, staring at the floor as if his eyes could bore holes through to the basement, and then he surged up, a coiled

spring suddenly released.

Karl startled and stood as well as Mr. Plouton flung open a closet and pulled out a black leather duster that probably cost more than some

people's cars. "My l--sir?"

"I'm going to the morgue."
"Oh? To question the medical examiner?"
Those dark blue eyes pinned Karl so hard the man stopped moving. "To speak to the dead."
He turned on his heel military-fashion and swept out the door.
"Certifiable," Ti muttered.
Karl turned back to him with a kind but still scary smile. "He didn't mean literally."
Somehow, Ti was sure that was a fib and suddenly it seemed a good idea to make his escape while Mr. Plouton was out. With a little hiss of

pain, his muscles stiff and protesting, he swung his legs down and pushed the blanket off. "Shit. Where are my shoes?"

"You're leaving, too? You can barely sit up straight."
"I really don't think Mr. Plouton wants me here when he gets back. I appreciate what you guys did. I do. But I don't have any answers for him and

he's obviously a very busy, important man."

"I don't think he wanted you to leave." Karl's voice was soft and disapproving.
"Yeah, well, I didn't hear him say so." Ti found his ragged sneakers at the end of the sofa and shoved his feet into them without untying the

laces. "I don't belong here."

His dirty coat lay carefully folded on a chair by the back wall. He wanted to sweep it on and stalk out, show Death, er, Karl, that he had some

dignity, that he was still a man. The best he could do, though, was crawl into the ratty wool with shaking hands and hobble down the hallway that he
had to assume was the one to the front door.

Karl let out a little sigh behind him. "I'll call down to the gatehouse and have them let you out."
"Gatehouse. Great," Ti said on a snort. He probably should have been more polite, more grateful, but the feeling of having fallen in with rich

weirdoes had grown to the freak out point. So he picked the solution that had been working best lately. He ran.

* * * *

Hades waited until the person in the white coat closed the last drawer and left the room for her lunch break, turning off half the banks of lights as

she went. Helm of Invisibility firmly in place, he had no fear of discovery. His only apprehension was that modern medical techniques and chemicals
would prevent the dead from telling him anything.

The dead he wished to see were here. They had no family to claim them and were part of ongoing criminal investigations, though the city didn't

seem overly interested in pursuing these cases, so the bodies resided in the city morgue. The shades most likely had departed, unless they were
particularly confused or embittered, but the dead kept secrets long after their soul inhabitants had moved on.

He held a palm over the door, willing the lock to turn. It obliged readily with an eager click.

Well made. Hephaestus would have been pleased

with it. He glanced up and down the corridor once more, no need to attract unneeded attention, and then pushed the door open silently. The room
smelled of human chemicals and cold steel...and death. Hades pulled in a deep breath, mouth open to catch as much of the scent as possible.
Violent deaths, every one. These bodies did not lie quietly.

The drawers opened on silent tracks. He knew which ones were occupied and which were the ones he needed, though of the bodies in

residence, all but one were of interest. Here they were, the men whose deaths he had heard about over the police radio. The knifing victim lay
closest to the door, a man who might have been handsome in his youth. Weather and overindulgence in drink had carved deeply into his skin,
though, leaving him wasted and ravaged. Traces of anger still hovered around him, hints of deep regret.

Hades put a hand on his bare arm, gently, reverently, and yes, he caught a psychic whiff of the killer, the shape of a soul. A shiver ran up his

arm and down his spine. The faint trace held dark desires he couldn't quite unravel--anger and fear, yes, but other things he couldn't name. The
man's death had been quick. He picked up the shock, the suddenness of the attack. This man had not realized he was in danger, not until the knife
struck.

The next man, the one who had been strangled, had seen his killer, most likely. Difficult to say if he had known the person, but there was

considerably more fear lingering from his death. He might not have been aware of being stalked, but he certainly had been aware of mortal peril
before he died. It was harder to pick apart his soul resonance from his killer's. Hades closed his eyes, laying on both hands and breathing deeply,
but, yes, the same dark soul shape lingered here.

The shooting victims, now two of them, were less conclusive. The killer had struck from a distance so the killer's resonance was too faint.

Hades shoved his hands in his pockets with a frown and encountered the shell casing. A thirty-aught-six, Ares had called it when he had sent the
boy a picture. According to his prickly, weapon-happy nephew, humans used this ammunition in the most accurate hunting rifles.

He pulled the casing out, closed his fist around the metal cylinder, and placed his free hand on the nearest corpse's forehead, comparing the

resonances. A hard, icy shudder stabbed through him, so fierce he dropped the casing with a gasp.

Yes.

Doubled over his knees, shivering in reaction, he had no doubts left. The amplification of the soul resonance proved that the killer was the

same in at least three of the four murders. But, dear Mother, this mortal was twisted.

Carefully, he closed the drawers, putting the bodies back to bed, and then leaned against the wall with his arms wrapped tight around his ribs.

Peering into the darkest souls had always affected him this way, leaving him shaking and exhausted after he weighed the consequences of the
most evil deeds.

After he had weighed Tantalus's soul and sent him to the judges for punishment, he had been forced to leave his obsidian throne, shaking too

hard to hold his ceremonial bident. Seph had followed him to his chamber, had helped him out of his armor, and put him to bed.

"Rest, my lord," she would always say at those times. "The world will wait for you."
She would soothe him and sing to him, make certain he was warm again. The dutiful wife...but as he thought back, shivering now in the steel-

clad gloom, he realized she had never said, "I love you."

He had never felt the need for such things, had never spoken those words to her either. Perhaps it was true, what his sister Hera had said to

him in a moment of bitter anger. He was incapable of love. His heart had grown too hard and cold during his years alone.

And yet...and yet...it still hurt so terribly to be cast aside. The empty place at his side still ached as if he'd had a limb ripped away. Wasn't that

love?

Was it?
He pushed off the wall and placed one foot carefully in front of the other, unsure of his balance for the first few steps. Yes, he wanted to go

home. Yes, he wanted things as they were before, but the universe was never stagnant. The dance moved on. Self-pity only weighed down the one
who indulged in it. So he told himself as he fought the chill in his bones and the heavy stones dragging at his heart.

Still too shaky to drive, he stood on the sidewalk with his helmet tucked under his arm. Hephaestus had modified its shape so that it looked like

a motorcycle helmet now rather than a battle helm.

I will walk a bit. Feel the life around me.

He started up the street, crossing Lancaster with the tall buildings of downtown in the distance ahead of him. The buildings here were stark,

utilitarian. Few businesses apparently wanted to operate directly in the shadow of the elevated interstate. But there were people about on official
business and some simply loitering in the late afternoon sun. Life enough, certainly.

Figures passed him, most scurrying by, intent on their own thoughts, some sparing a cautious glance his way. He wondered what humans saw

when they looked at him. Certainly not a Lord of Death, modern humans no longer recognized such things, but he couldn't fathom why they all
seemed to fear him.

Perhaps he would ask one. There was a young man standing hunched in his coat on the corner at the end of the next block. He could...
Hades squinted against the sunlight. The ragged mop of unruly brown hair looked a bit too familiar.

Why is he out here? He hastened his

steps, a sudden unease settling around his heart.

* * * *

It had taken Ti a few minutes to recognize where the condo was. He supposed it shouldn't have. The Swinging Bridge had once been a

notorious pick up spot for gay men, after all. Probably hadn't been the case for years. He had no idea.

As he crossed the little suspension footbridge over the Brandywine, he certainly didn't run into anyone cruising, or anyone for that matter. Quiet

day in the park. At least he had his bearings now and could head back toward downtown to panhandle for change.

Cash. Booze. A quiet, hopefully warm corner. In that order.
Then he would work hard at forgetting his incredibly weird day. With luck and enough drinking, he might be able to convince himself that it was

all some bizarre dream. He had

not just been inside a million dollar condo. He had not just met two of the strangest PI's on the face of the planet,

and he had most definitely not found one of them hot. Not even slightly. Nope.

Though the sofa had been so damn comfy and it had been wonderful being warm for a bit without having to worry about someone chasing him

out.

No, you chased yourself out this time, you idiot. But really, how much longer could he have stayed? A few more minutes? Another hour before

they said, thanks, but that's all we needed you for?

Oh, and by the way, someone's killing homeless dudes. Great. Probably someone's book research.

Killing the Indigent for Fun and Profit.

Maybe it was a new program to clean up the streets, though that would be like trying to exterminate the city's rats. The hunter in charge would stand
at the podium in his mirror shades, pointing to the slide presentation.

There it is, boys, a five dollar bounty for every homeless bum's carcass you

haul in. Ten bucks for every rat. Just make sure you don't get bit. Those bums carry all kinds of nasty shit.

He snickered at the morbid fantasy, though he supposed it shouldn't have been funny. His twisted brain had gone even more haywire over the

last few months. Not something he could help.

"Hey, Ti-ti. Where you been, boy?"
The raw, ruined voice froze him in place.

Oh, hell, no. Just let me die now. He hunched farther in his jacket as if he could hide. Why hadn't he

been paying attention to where he was? To what was around him?

"You don't look happy to see me." A huge hand closed hard on his shoulder, the stench of booze and rotting teeth right in his face. He looked

up into rheumy gray eyes that screamed predator. "I thought we were friends, Ti-ti."

Ti scraped up just enough courage to shake the hand off. "Right. Friends. Look, Fleece, I don't have any money right now. No cash, no booze,

my shoes won't fit your feet. Nothing you want. Go shake down somebody who actually has something."

A stinging blow to the side of his head made the sidewalk tilt.
"Don't talk back, you little shit." Fleece grabbed the front of his shirt and a hank of hair and started dragging him toward the mouth of an alley

just down the street. "You got no tribute to give? I'll take it out of your sweet little ass."

Damn it, no! Not again! This was why he'd been avoiding the shelters and sleeping rough. This was why he avoided the places people

congregated and why he kept to himself these days. He kicked out, throwing himself backward in a desperate attempt to get away, but Fleece
closed a hand around his throat, cutting off his air. He still had bruises from the last time.

Please let me pass out this time. Oh, God, please.

Spots danced in front of his eyes. He thought he heard a deep voice calling his name. Maybe that meant he really was dying. Someone calling

him home. He managed to move his eyes enough to look in the direction of the voice. A large figure in black stood on the corner a block away.

Mr. Plouton? Right. That would be your brain trying to manufacture a rescue that would never happen in a million years.
Suddenly, the pressure on his throat released. The hands on him vanished. Off balance, he crashed to his knees on the pavement. Fleece

yelled out once, his voice replaced by the unpleasant sounds of something solid hitting flesh. Ti managed to focus in time to see Mr. Plouton's fist
connect hard with Fleece's jaw. The jackass crumpled, toppling a trash can as he fell.

"Tiberius?" Mr. Plouton's hands gripped Ti's arms now. "Are you hurt? What are you doing out here?"
Mouth working, Ti stared at him with his brain in complete and utter meltdown. "How did you... you were all the way down... there's no way... are

you a superhero or something?"

Those strange blue eyes searched his face, an obvious debate warring behind them. "No. No, I'm not," Mr. Plouton said softly. "I'm a god."
"You're...yeah. Well. Modest much?"
Ti watched in fascination as a heavy sigh expanded that huge chest. "Explanations should wait. I left you safe in Charon's... Karl's care. You

should have stayed there."

The slip was a weird one, Ti couldn't refute that, but he had too many things batting around in his head to make sense of it. "You...wanted me to

stay?"

"You're in danger, you fool." Mr. Plouton hauled him up and kept hold of his arm as he forcibly marched Ti down South Adams.
"Wait! What the hell? Where are we going?"
"My car. I'm taking you back home. You will stay there this time, I hope."
"I don't see any damn car and why the hell would you want to help me?"
Mr. Plouton whispered a strange word and a red Viper materialized, just

appeared where Ti was damn sure no car had been before. "I can at

least keep one soul safe. Give me that."

"Um...okay?" Ti still stared at the car, shaking his head. Brain damage. Had to be. "If it makes you happy, I guess. But no funny stuff, all right?

I'm not putting out just 'cause you wanna keep a pet."

Mr. Plouton let go to run both hands over his face. "I have no idea what you're saying. Please get in the car."
The earnest, serious frustration convinced Ti. Something about this man screamed that for all his weirdness, he was honest. Honorable. He

straightened his clothes, squared his shoulders, and climbed into the damn car.

Chapter 3: A Lord Of The Dead

Hades let the young man make his way to the elevator under his own power, though his steps often wavered. The urge to sweep him up in his

arms and carry him itched at him, but stripping Ti of his last bits of pride seemed wrong.

The door to the condo opened before they had reached it, with Charon letting out a harried huff. "Oh, good. You're both back."
"Worried, were you?"
"About you, sir? Never."
Charon took his coat and hung it in the closet, a frown still in place despite his casual words.
Coat and shoes still on, Tiberius sank down on the sheet-covered sofa, head in his hands.
"Why did you let him leave?" Hades waved a hand at the exhausted young man. "I made it clear that he was to stay here."
"No, you didn't," Tiberius's muffled voice came from between his fingers. "And you still haven't explained anything or why you saved me or why

the hell you'd want me here or for how long or...anything."

The words came out ragged and hoarse, perilously close to tears. Hades glanced between him and Charon, who only shrugged.

Thank you.

Such a help. Finally, he went to the sofa and crouched in front of his guest, as he would do with a frightened dog.

"Tiberius, look at me." He waited until red-rimmed eyes glared at him. "We don't mean you any harm. I swear on the sacred rivers that no harm

will come to you while you're here. Do you understand that? Can you trust in that, at least?"

Those exhausted eyes gave him a slow blink, eyes dark as loam. "Maybe. Yeah. I guess."
"That's quite a vote of confidence," Charon said at his driest.
Hades backed up to the chair, giving the young man room. "You should, perhaps, bathe. We'll find you something clean to wear. When you're

steadier, ready to listen, I'll answer questions."

"Okay. I guess I can't say no to a hot shower, right?" A hint of a smile tugged at Tiberius's lips. "Sure you want to let me get your nice bathroom

all dirty?"

"I believe it can be cleaned, if necessary."
Charon rescued him before Tiberius could puzzle him too much more. "Come with me, Mr. Snyder. I'll show you where everything is. Just leave

your dirty clothes by the door and I'll take care of them. We don't have any clothes that will actually

fit you, but we'll do the best we can."

By the sound of things, Charon had taken his charge into the extra bath. If Tiberius stayed, it would be his bath, in any case. If Char asked, he

wasn't certain if he could explain why he was so adamant about his foundling staying. It wasn't quite premonition, or even a solid feeling of threat,
but since he had encountered the killer's soul resonance...

He would feel responsible if this young man ended up in the morgue. Simply that.
"My lord?" The shower ran now and Charon was back leaning against the corridor wall that led back to the three bedrooms. "You know he's ill,

yes?"

"Yes."
"And that he's close?"
"I know, Char. You needn't tell me."
"If he dies here, my lord--"
"Then at least it will not be in pain and fear. Out in the cold. Alone."
Charon hesitated for several heartbeats and finally said softly, "Of course, my lord."

* * * *

The damn bedroom Karl had left him in was almost the size of his last apartment and it was obvious by the lack of personal effects and the

empty closet that this was the guest bedroom. The master suite was probably the size of a small stadium. Everything was so beautiful, he kept his
arms tucked in, afraid to touch anything and ruin it. Thick woven area rugs lay precisely arranged on the gleaming hardwood floors. The carved four-
poster queen was decked out in deep reds and mahogany. The comforter looked so thick and warm, he wanted to burrow in it and never come out.

Ti turned around the room until he was dizzy trying to take it all in. The whole set up just made him more ashamed, more aware of how filthy he

was. At least Karl had shown enough sense to give him a plastic bag for his clothes. He'd hate to leave them on the pristine floors.

He stripped down in the bathroom, leaning against the marble counter, and stuffed everything, shoes, coat, stinking socks, and all, into the

black garbage bag which he left by the bedroom door. Then he stood there naked, trying not to step on the thick bath rug, shivering his stupid ass
off because the bright, shiny tub and shower intimidated him.

It's not like you grew up in a swamp. Not like you've always been like this. It's just a nice shower. With really expensive shampoo and soap

and towels laid out for you that cost more than you've had in hand at any time in the past six months and...

"Fuck. Stop it. Idiot. It's. A. Shower."
Still his hands shook when he turned on the taps, his leg muscles shivered uncontrollably when he climbed slowly into the tub and shut the

shower door. It felt so good, so freaking good--heated streamers running down from his scalp to his feet, the drum of warm rain on his shoulders
and the blessed cloak of steam that managed partially to hide his wasted body.

He poured out shampoo and washed his hair once, watching the dirt swirl down the drain, then again, because the strands still felt greasy, and

then a third time to try to scrub away the lingering feel of Fleece's hand there. The sandalwood scented soap would never wash away all the shame
and humiliation, but he did the best he could, scrubbing until his skin was red and raw, using the hard brush for his elbows, fingernails, and feet.

Finally, the water ran clean and he still shook so hard. He buried his face in his hands and realized he was sobbing, silent, wracking sobs that

tore through his chest.

Please don't be loud. Please don't let them hear me. It's all too much and I can't stand any more.

He finally managed a little control, enough to turn off the shower and wrap himself up in fluffy

towels, plural. A clean pair of sweats, boxers,

socks, and a black T-shirt waited for him on the bed, all laid out as if to make clear that yes, those were really for him. The sweats were both too big
in the waist and a little too short, the T-shirt was for someone with a much larger chest, so he had to assume both items were Mr. Plouton's.

Towels carefully hung on bars in the bathroom, everything as straightened up as he could get it, he hobbled back out to the main room, one

hand on the wall all the way. Oh, yeah. The tremors had him in their teeth now, shaking him like a rawhide toy. Maybe he could get Karl to
understand. He just needed a little bit. Just enough to calm the shaking.

All his carefully gathered words deserted him when he encountered the undisguised shock on both faces waiting for him in the living room.

Holy shit. Do I really look that bad?

* * * *

Hades stood slowly, uncertain if his intervention would be helpful or simply frightening. The hand on the wall appeared to be the only thing

holding Tiberius up as he clung there shaking, eyes fever bright.

"Come sit down," Charon said gently as he glided across the room to take Tiberius under the elbow. "I'll help you. It's not far."
"So damn cold." Teeth chattering, Tiberius sank down on the sofa, now with the sheets stripped off. "I need...a little something. Please. Just a

little."

Charon wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and another around his legs. "I can't do that to you. You'll never get well."
What in bloody Tartarus are they talking about? "He's fevered. What does he need?"
"His body thinks it needs alcohol." Charon actually wrapped his arms around the shaking blanket bundle. "But it's poisoning him. Perhaps you

should call Apollo, sir?"

"No!" The word came out short and whip-sharp. Hades squeezed his eyes shut and tried to amend his tone. "No. He won't come."
"Well, someone, my lord, please. We're not...accustomed to healing others, you and I."
He heard his own teeth grind and unclenched his jaw with a heroic effort. "Yes." They needed help with this, he wasn't afraid to admit it. He

turned on his heel and strode off to call in reinforcements.

Less than half an hour later, security called up to let him know his visitors had arrived. He stood leaning against his open front door, watching

the elevator numbers as Tiberius shivered and moaned in Charon's bony arms. The strange desire to comfort the young man himself had risen up
so sharply that he had to leave the room or risk shoving Charon forcibly out of the way.

Pity. Protectiveness. That's what the feelings had to be. He had encountered such things before where weaker beings were concerned. Small

children who came to the Underworld alone. Lost, grieving young lovers.

Of course, Seph had always...
She's not here, you fool. Nor will she ever be again. The elevator door slid open to reveal, to his relief, Hestia with Hermes and Dionysus in

tow. He had called her since she knew how to comfort the sick, and she had called Hermes since he had some healing ability and Dio since they all
suspected what this ailment was. Hestia's motherly smile calmed his racing heart, though he would never have told her that.

"Thank you for coming."
"Of course, darling." She patted his chest and eased around him into the apartment. "Now where's this poor boy?"
Both of his nephews went so far as to hug him on their way in. He flinched from the unexpected contact but managed not to twitch away. The

sentiment, at least, he appreciated.

Charon was unceremoniously relieved of his human-blanket bundle and shooed out of the way while Dionysus took their ailing guest's head in

his lap and Hermes unwrapped the blankets to examine him. Dio crooned softly to him, stroking his hair, which seemed to calm his agitated
twitching.

"Liver's enlarged, but not scarred yet," Hermes murmured.
Dio nodded, gently coaxing the sweat-plastered hair from Tiberius's forehead. "He hasn't been dependent long. A year, maybe. Can't be much

more."

"His heart's fighting hard. Starvation, stress, withdrawal." Hermes ran his hands over Tiberius's back and legs, feeling more than simply muscle

and sinew. "Uncle, could I speak to you a moment?"

Charon was trailing Hestia around the kitchen now, taking notes as she criticized their kitchen supplies and insisted on additions. Hades

motioned his nephew to the library and closed the sliding door behind them.

"What did you find?"
Hermes ran his hands over his arms as if he'd caught a chill. "His heart's the biggest concern now. If he can make it through the next day, I think

he'll recover, as long as he's kept away from alcohol from now on." His sky blue eyes shifted to the door and back, full of concern. "Did you know he
may have been raped recently?"

The growl rose from his chest before he could stop it. He cut it off with a sharp breath through his teeth. "I wondered after what I saw this

afternoon. But, no. I did not know."

I'd hoped I'd rescued him in time from such things.

"I believe it was only once." Hermes cleared his throat. "Difficult to say at this point."
"If I see that man again..."
"If you're going to make this new vocation of yours work, you can't simply mete out justice as you please."
Hades glanced down and uncurled his hands from their tight fists. He managed a grunt of agreement, too angry to speak.
"What is this human to you, Uncle? Why do you have him here?"
"I..."

Rescued him. I feel responsible for him. I can't simply let him die in a dirty alley. "...found him."

"Interesting. You do realize he should be in a hospital bed instead of on your sofa in Dio's lap? Comfortable as that might be?"
He had to stop his grinding teeth again before he could speak. "Yes. He refused. Said if I took him to a hospital, he would leave."
Hermes patted his arm, one of the few beings in the universe who would dare to when he glowered. "I had to be sure of your reasons here." He

jerked his head toward the door. "Let's join the others. I'm sure Auntie Hestia has suggestions for the care and feeding of your human."

She did indeed and Hades sank into his armchair under the weight of her many instructions. It was a good thing Charon took meticulous notes.

* * * *

It was early. Or late. Or the end of the world.
Ti tried to roll over. One arm flopped off the sofa. He couldn't summon the energy to call it back. "Oh. Holy. Fuck."
There had been hours of agony, his skin crawling and burning, chills and shakes alternating with crushing fever. Dry heaves at least had offered

some variety from the restless, ceaseless pain. There might have been screaming. He didn't want to think too hard about it.

At some point, the stampede of horrible sensations had finished trampling over him and left him exhausted, barely conscious, every cell

aching. Karl had coaxed him into choking down some ginger ale and half a piece of toast, and then mercifully left him to die in peace.

I think I'm not dead yet. Again.
"Good morning."
The Carlsbad Cavern deep voice went straight through his bones.

Morning. Got it. Wonder what day? Ti turned his head, blinking the room

into focus. He still lay on the leather sofa and he wondered about that. They probably didn't want him messing up the nice bed.

Mr. Plouton stood by the balcony doors, gazing out, hands clasped behind his back. The man didn't seem to own any clothes in not-black.
"Hey."
"How do you feel?"
That handsome profile didn't turn toward him with the question. Ti wasn't sure if it was what Karl called communication issues or just casual

arrogance. "Pretty good for someone who was run over by a road grader."

Now Mr. Plouton glanced at him, obviously puzzled. "Nothing ran over you that I know of."
Right. Issues. The dictionary has his picture next to "literal."
"Um. Yeah." Ti managed to drag his arm back up under the blanket, the movement expending most of his energy reserve. "Mostly tired, I

guess. Hope you don't mind if I don't get up."

"Not at all." Those incredible blue eyes had already turned back to the window.
Ti closed his eyes, grateful for the quiet and the warmth.

I'm safe here. It's temporary but I'll take it. Maybe he'd be given the time to get his

head together here, to hit restart.

When he cracked one eye a few minutes later, Mr. Plouton hadn't moved, his eyes tracking something outside. "What're you watching?"
"Dogs."
"Dogs?"
"People walking their dogs on the other side of the river. Quite a variety of breeds."
"Yeah? Like what?"
Mr. Plouton nodded toward the window, one corner of his mouth tipping up. "There's a borzoi passing now. There was a foxhound, a pair of

akitas, a Tibetan mastiff, a pomerian and a chow chow."

Careful. That's almost a smile. "You like dogs, huh?"
"Yes." The word sounded so sad, so wistful, Ti had to wonder if there had been a canine death recently. He was about to ask when the big

man's eyes lit up. He motioned to the window. "What a lovely Samoyed. Come see."

Ti managed a dry chuckle. "I'll have to take your word for it."
"Ah." Before he could protest, Mr. Plouton strode over, scooped Ti up in his arms, and carried him to the window. "There. Now you can see."
"Um...thanks?" The casual ease with which the man held him was scary as hell. Sure, Ti knew he didn't weigh too much after the past six

months on the streets, but he was over six feet tall for pity's sake. No one should be able to carry him like a rag doll. To be polite, he looked out the
window at the dog and found he had to agree. If someone told him he had to have a dog, then that white bit of fluffy pretty would have been high up
on the list of candidates. "Nice."

"Very intelligent dogs. Highly energetic."
Maybe not then. Ti risked a glance back at his host and transport. The unguarded sorrow in his eyes yanked at his heart. Damn. "So this

mangy mutt moves into a really high-class neighborhood, right next door to a couple of snobby poodles."

Mr. Plouton gave him a noncommittal grunt, so he forged on.
"Okay, so the poodles aren't real pleased with their new neighbor and they decide that they need to march right over there and put this lop-

eared, flea-bitten mutt in his place, right? So the first poodle turns up her nose at him and says, 'My name is Fifi. F-I-F-I.' And the second snooty
poodle chimes in, 'My name is Mimi. M-I-M-I.' And then the mutt looks at one and then the other. He sits up straight and declares, 'My name is Fido.
F-I-D-E-A-U-X.'"

Deep blue eyes stared at him nonplussed. "Dogs don't speak to each other like that."
"No, I know. It's a joke. The plain, ordinary dog knowing French. Funny? Haha? You're supposed to laugh. Or at least smile politely." Still

nothing. "Um. Never mind." Ti heaved a sigh. "Mom and Dad didn't hug you much, did they?"

He heard an odd grinding sound and realized it was Mr. Plouton's teeth. "My father tried to kill me. Several times."
Holy... What the hell do you say to that? Ti patted the broad chest he leaned against, since he was at an unusual loss for words. A slow, deep

inhale followed his touch, not quite a sigh, and Mr. Plouton turned away from the window.

"Would you like to go to bed?"
Ti's head jerked up, the question hitting him out of far left field. "What?"
"Would you be more comfortable in bed or on the sofa? We had you out here to keep a close watch but the worst appears to be over."
"Oh, um..." Heat crept up his face over his misinterpretation.

That could have been awkward. "A bed would be incredible. A real bed. Yeah."

He found himself transported to the guest bedroom and put to bed with surprising gentleness, though that restless twitch ticked in Mr. Plouton's

jaw the whole time. When he was finally settled in a nest of pillows against the headboard, with a glass of ginger ale and a precisely sliced banana
on a black china plate, Ti thought he would be left to his own devices. To his surprise, Mr. Plouton leaned against the post at the foot of the bed.

"I promised explanations."
"You did." Ti wasn't sure he wanted them anymore. The implications of someone saying "I'm a god" were finally sinking in. He didn't want his

host to be some conceited weirdo and he sure as hell didn't want to find out the man was psycho.

"You saw how swiftly I can move. You saw the car appear."
"Yeah...I guess."
Both silver eyebrows rose. "You don't believe what you've witnessed?"
"I wasn't in really great shape at the time."
Ti's host folded his arms across his chest and rested his head against the wooden spindle, regarding him with a pensive frown. "I truly am

Hades. God of the Underworld."

The urge to laugh nearly sent ginger ale up Ti's nose. Problem was his host wasn't kidding. The man had no sense of humor, after all.

"Ooookaaay. Is that maybe code for something? Are you Interpol?"

Now the big man heaved a sigh, one full of weary exasperation. "No. I am of a race of beings far older and far more long-lived than humans that

men have traditionally called gods. I am a Lord of the Dead."

Crap. He is a nutjob. While his brain started spinning ideas of how and how soon he could escape, Ti's host strode to the center of the room,

hands held out in front of his chest, palms together.

"Observe, Tiberius. Watch but have no fear. I will let nothing harm you."
He spread his hands slowly, as if it took considerable effort to pull them apart. Between his palms, a spot of darkness nestled, expanding as

he widened the space. Ti blinked, stunned. Then instinct kicked in and his eyes ricocheted around the room searching for hidden projectors. His
training insisted that this was graphics magic. If it was some kind of 3D stunt, though, it was incredibly advanced and he couldn't pick up any clues
to where the electronics were hidden.

The darkness spread until a door-sized patch hovered in front of Plouton...Hades, whatever the hell the man called himself. Movement teased

at the eye and shapes began to coalesce out of the black. An image formed of a river, wide as the Mississippi and night black, the far shore
shrouded in crawling mist. It seemed to meander through a cavern, the stalactite adorned ceiling barely discernible overhead. On the near shore, a
boat waited with a graceful curved prow, its polished wood gleaming white in the gloom.

"The River Styx," Hades declared, his deep voice soft and wistful. "The gateway to my domain."
"That's...amazing. How are you doing that?"
Hades shook his head with a grimace and waved his hand at the image. The river faded, replaced by a green meadow decked with

wildflowers. The lighting was better for this scene but still muted, somehow still giving the impression of being underground. The colors were
fantastic.

"The Elysian Fields, where the blessed souls went after death."
"Wow. Just wow."
"It is lovely." Another wave of his hand brought another scene change, this one a long shot of a temple or palace in the ancient Grecian style

with simple, masculine Doric columns and massive black doors made of some gleaming stone. "My palace. Her palace..." His frown grew darker
and his hands fell to his sides.

"No, don't stop! Show me more! Tell me how this works. Shit...I mean, it's incredible. So realistic."
Irritation smoldered in those dark blue eyes as they turned on him. "You think this is some trick. Something from one of those...machines.

Those blasted computers." Hades's fists clenched. "I assure you, this is not some shadow play. I could show you any part of my domain or any other
you please. We could go down to the riverside here and I will open the ground and

take you there if I must."

Ti drew his knees up to his chest, pressed as far back against the headboard as he could go.

Right. Cool tech. Still a nutjob. Now he'll

probably kill me since I pissed him off.

Instead of attacking, Hades seemed to fold in on himself. He sat hard at the foot of the bed, staring at his hands, muttering, "Pay me no mind.

No one recognizes me any longer. There's no reason why you would. Not even she looks up to me now."

The sudden dejection made Ti feel like a jerk, even though the situation was still scary. Did sane people have the urge to hug someone that

scary? Probably not. "She?"

"Persephone."
"She...why would you say she doesn't respect you? Isn't she your wife and stuff?"
"She was. She's divorced me." Hades drew in another one of those long, slow breaths. "The palace is hers while she wants it. Though I

suppose she'll want to come back to the surface world in the spring as she always does."

"Oh, man. That's rough. I'm sorry."
"Not your doing."
Ti relaxed back into the pillows. Fine. The guy was crazy but he decided it wasn't the bad, dangerous kind of crazy. This guy wanted to help

people and if he wanted to take on a god persona instead of a superhero one, well, who was a failed, homeless, alcoholic graphic artist to judge.
"And Karl? You called him Charon once?"

"Because he is. My faithful ferryman."
"See? He still believes in you, right?"
Hades's head came up. He nodded once. "I suppose you're right. That's something, at least."
Ti trolled back through his memories of Greek myths and realized something. "So...what is he? I mean, he's not a god, right?"
"No, Charon is older than the gods. A child of Gaia and Ouranos. He fought for my father during the war."
"Your father would be... Kronos? Didn't he eat you or something?" Just how far did the delusion go?
"A human misinterpretation. Though, figuratively, he did. He constructed a cell that was an extension of his mind and there he imprisoned us as

children, Hestia, Hera, Poseidon, Demeter, and me. Those were hard years, trying to make certain the younger ones didn't lose hope."

"But Zeus, your youngest brother, he rescued you, right?"
"He'd like to think he did it all. Mother and my cousin Metis did most of it, getting father to drink the drugged mead."
It was all some crazed fantasy, but Ti still found himself caught up in the story. "So what happened to your dad?"
Hades had gone back to staring at his hands. "I killed him."
Holy shit. Had he really done it? Really killed his father? Or was it still part of the delusion? "Oh...um..."
"Did you know him?"
The question gave him whiplash, as if someone had just hit the brakes hard in a speeding Maserati. "What? Know who?"
"The man who died in the alley with you, did you know him?"
Ti pulled in a breath, still recovering from the abrupt directional change. Apparently, he had asked too many personal questions and had hit on

territory Mr. Plouton, er, Hades, wanted left alone. "I don't really know. I mean, I know some of the guys out there, sure, but it was dark. Didn't really
see him."

"It wasn't..." Hades stared at him, and then shook his head. "Yes. Of course. Did you know any of the others?"
"Others?"
"The other murder victims."
"I don't...other murder victims? It's not like the deaths were in the news, right? Do you even have names for any of them? I didn't... how many

have there been?" Ti pulled in a deep breath. Guys had been dying. Maybe guys he knew and he hadn't even heard about it. "Even if the world is
about to end and you do have real names, I probably won't know them. No one gives their names out there."

"No?"
"No. It's all nicknames and stuff like that."
"But you gave me your real name."
"Yeah." Ti had to stop his running-in-circles thoughts again. Yes, he had. Why had he done that? "But I haven't in a long time."
Silver eyebrows drew together in one of those puzzled, thinking frowns Ti was getting to know so well. "If I asked for you among the homeless,

what name would I use?"

"Ti or Prettyboy."
The eyebrows shot back up. "Really?"
"Um, yeah. It's not meant in a nice way."
"You're certainly pleasing to the eye."
Well, that's a freaking weird thing to say. "Um, thanks? But it's because I'm gay."
"Wouldn't deaths be spoken of somewhere? Do men without homes not communicate?"
"Oh, kind of. In limited ways, sure." Ti thought about it a minute and realized something. "So none of the guys have been ID'd? Would it help

your investigation to know who they were?"

"It's conceivable. I can't disregard any avenue at this point."
Don't get involved. Don't get involved. Don't... "I could tell you a couple of places to ask around. If a regular's missing somewhere, might be

someone who knows who they were."

Hades nodded, his earlier slide into self-pity apparently halted. "Good. When you are able, you will take me to these places."
I will? "I, um, okay."

* * * *

The next morning, Ti found enough energy to wander out to the kitchen. It was still morning. The clock said so, just after eleven. Karl was

puttering around in there but a strange emptiness to the place told him the big guy was out.

He slid onto one of the padded stools at the counter. "He's gone out for the day?"
Karl turned to him with that kind but still scary smile. "He did. He said he had some sites he had to visit. How are you feeling?"
"Shaky." Ti shrugged, a hard shiver running through him as he put his head down on his arms. "Fuzzed. Like my brain's not connected to all the

right ports."

"Craving? And alternately, are you hungry?"
"Yeah, some. To both." Weird thing was, the need wasn't desperate. Maybe all the other bizarre stuff helped distract him enough. "You're not

going to let me drink, though, are you?"

"No. But I'll be happy to feed you. Scrambled eggs? Fried?"
"Oh, God, no," Ti groaned. "No eggs. Disgusting things." He peeked over his arm, hoping he hadn't offended his host. "Though I know most

people like them. Toast?"

"You need more than that now that you're keeping food down." Karl's voice came to him muffled by the refrigerator door. "Would you rather a

sandwich? Grilled cheese?"

"Yeah. Sounds good. Thanks."
He watched, a hundred questions swimming around in his head, while Karl glided around the kitchen, every movement clean and efficient,

unlike Ti's own tendency to twitch and fumble. In what seemed record time, he had a sandwich set in front of him. Not a simple grilled cheese, oh,
no. This creation included ham, tomato, some mildly spicy sauce, and grilled onions. The wonderful mix of scents had him nearly drooling on the
counter, which was strange since he really hadn't reacted to food except as a necessity in months.

"Oh, wow," he breathed out after his first bite. "This is... amazing."
"Thank you. I've learned a bit over the years."
Ti nodded, too busy devouring for verbal answers. After what seemed only seconds, he sat staring mournfully at an empty plate, embarrassed

as hell that he'd wolfed such a glorious thing down in what had to have been three bites. With a chuckle, Karl slid another sandwich onto his plate.

"I hope he knows how wonderful you are," Ti said on a happy sigh.
Karl leaned back against the far counter. "Oh, he would never say it, but I think he's glad I'm here."
"You've been with him a long time?"
"Oh, yes. Many years."
The sandwiches, plural, consumed now, lay like river stones in his touchy stomach. He'd overdone it, eating too much, too fast.

Everything to

excess. Yep. But he did feel a little less wooly. "He said you met during a war? On opposite sides? Though that's kinda fuzzy. He just said you
fought for his father."

"There was a war. Ten long years of it. And, yes, we met as enemies. I was badly wounded. He could've killed me, but he didn't."
Ti wanted to ask which war. He thought maybe something in the Balkans or maybe Afghanistan? Had Greece gotten involved in that mess? He

didn't think so...but something in Karl's suddenly distant expression made him hesitate. Combat survivors didn't, or sometimes couldn't, discuss the
details. "So he, what? Took you prisoner?"

Karl's smile sneaked back in as he sipped his expensive bottle of water. "In a manner of speaking, yes. He took care of me. He asked me why

I was fighting for his father. I didn't have a good reason. We talked for a long while that night and he finally asked if I'd rather not fight for him."

"Just like that you switched sides?"
Karl's smile slid a little. "Strange times. They were that. Besides, he has a way of inspiring loyalty. Certainly treated me better in those few

hours than his father ever had."

His eyes shone with some unspoken emotion. There was devotion there, but hard to say what kind.
"Are you, um, if you don't mind my asking, are you together?"
The bottle stopped halfway to Karl's lips. He blinked, put the bottle down and suddenly doubled over laughing, a strange, echoing sound as if

his chest was hollow. "Oh, sweet mother...oh, dear..." He wiped at his eyes as he tried to compose himself. "You thought we might be a

couple?"

"Yeah, well." Ti's face burned. Damn it, it wasn't that funny. "Not like it couldn't happen."
Karl patted the air with one hand. "I'm sorry. Really. I'm--" The apology lost a little ground as he started snickering again. "Oh, sorry. Ha. Yes,

yes... you're right. Any other pair of men living together and I'd say you had grounds to ask."

"Guess it was a stupid question. Since he was married and all, huh? He's not even slightly bi, is he?"
"It's not that. He did have male lovers before he married. Nothing lasting, but quite a few. Unabashedly bisexual, though sex isn't something he

talks about often. I notice you didn't ask about me, though." Karl's smile grew slightly wicked. "Can't imagine why not. You don't find me beautiful?"
He waved a hand down his cadaverously thin body with another snicker. "But seriously, it wouldn't work with me. I'm not a sexual being at all. Can't
stand the thought."

Ti was sure his face would combust any second. He pushed his plate around on the black marble counter. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."
"Quite all right. I'm not sensitive about it. I'll try to answer whatever I feel is appropriate for you."
"Thanks." With a deep breath, Ti decided he might as well dive all the way in. "So, um, has he always had these weird delusions? Or is it some

kind of PTSD? Or was it because of the divorce?"

"Ah, now you've lost me. And we were doing so well, too. What sort of delusions do you believe he suffers from?"
"The whole god thing. I mean, he thinks he's Hades. Even had this really elaborate projection set up--I still can't figure out how he did it--where

he

showed me different parts of his Underworld. He even said you were Charon, the ferryman for the dead. He got all pissed off when I didn't

believe him. Then he got all depressed, so I thought it was better to, you know, play along. Was that wrong?"

Karl was in the middle of a drink of water on the last three sentences. He sputtered and coughed, obviously trying hard not to erupt into a fit of

laughter again.

"You are so refreshing, did you know that?" he managed when he'd stopped choking. "My poor lord. Bares his soul to you, and you decide it's

special effects. Ha."

"Oh, come on. You can't be saying you believe him?"
"Believe him?" Karl's black eyes suddenly glowed with a red light. His hand whipped out and caught Ti's wrist. "I have no choice but to believe.

I am Charon, keeper of the shore. He may not have thought it right to force the issue, but I'm rather more amoral sometimes."

Ti jerked back, heart pounding. He tried to yank free but Karl's strength was frightening.

Shit, oh, shit...the sane seeming one's the psycho

and now I'm gonna die while the crazy hero-god delusional isn't here to save me.

"Damn it, let go!"
"No, Tiberius. You're laboring under some serious misconceptions and they end here. You also hurt my dear lord's feelings and don't even

realize how deeply. We can't have that."

My lord's? What kind of kooky relationship do these guys have? "Please...I'll apologize to him. On my knees if I have to. Please don't kill me."
"Kill you? No, no. I'm simply taking you to a realm of the dead. He would have to take you the long way. I have other options." Karl grinned that

sharp-toothed, creepy grin and yanked him close. "Don't leave my side and don't be afraid. I have you."

"Please! Oh, God, someone--"
Ti's scream cut off as icy air clamped around him, stopping his breath, a curtain of black slamming down over his vision.

I'm dead...I'm dead...

But Karl's hand still wrapped tight around his wrist, his other bony arm clamped around Ti's waist. He wouldn't still feel that if he'd died, right?

Slowly, like the plastic peeling off a stubborn frozen pizza, other sensations returned. His head lay against Karl's shoulder, too damn heavy to

pick up. His panicked lungs forced air in and out, each breath a painful wheeze. He wasn't blind. Light filtered in from somewhere, so dim it wasn't
much more than the light from a hallway under a darkened bedroom door.

"It's all right, Tiberius." Karl's voice was soft and kind again. A bony hand stroked his back. "Lift your head and look around you, but stay here

with me. The shores of the Styx are dangerous for an unescorted human."

Ti lifted his head, ashamed when a whimper caught in his throat. This was one of the scenes from Hades's little HD projection show. But this

wasn't a projection. It was real. The chill wind, the slightly sulfurous smell coming from the river, the soft splash of water, all real. This wasn't some
amusement park bit of high-tech theming either. They'd arrived here instantaneously, no corridor to walk through, no line with screaming kids.

"Karl..." he managed in a voice too small for a five-year-old.
"It really is Charon, you know." The voice remained soothing and kind, the hand still stroking his back. "This is my river. My boat. I am the

ferryman, the keeper of the way, the only route for mortal souls to reach their destination in the Underworld."

Dogs began to bark on the far side of the river. To Ti's horror, he realized it wasn't a pack of dogs but one dog--one horrific dog with three

heads. The monster looked the size of a small bull, built thick and brutish like the largest mastiffs, long, serpentine tail whipping behind it angrily.

"Karl...Charon," Ti whispered. "I don't feel so good."
He wasn't sure he managed to get the whole sentence out before he fainted.

* * * *

"I'm sorry I was so harsh with you. But you were being terribly stubborn. Are you feeling better?"
Ti hugged his arms around his own chest, still trying to calm his hammering heart. He was lying on his back on the now familiar leather sofa

with a cold compress on his forehead, feeling completely freaked out and completely ridiculous for being such a wuss. "I think the booze finally
cracked my brain. Or maybe I fell and hit my skull on the sidewalk one too many times."

Charon patted his foot from where he perched at the far end of the sofa. "No, you simply saw some truth outside the normal living human

experience."

Much as he didn't want to admit it, Ti knew in his gut that the whole disorienting, surreal experience hadn't been a hallucination or a counterfeit.

He had been somewhere not-on-Earth, somewhere supernatural. Why he wasn't more freaked out about the whole experience was anybody's
guess. "Fuck. I need a drink."

"Orange juice or water?"
"Funny guy. Were we in Hell?"
"You know better. You're an educated young man."
"Right. The Underworld. The Ancient Greek one. Hades's Underworld."
"Yes."
"So he really is a god."
"Without a doubt."
"And Persephone really divorced him?"
"Sadly so."
"And he really killed his father?"
"At the end of the war, yes."
"The stories don't say that."
"No, they don't. It sounded better, I suppose, to say we had imprisoned him. To make us different from what came before. But it was all

mayhem and slaughter. Just like with his father and grandfather. We were no better."

"Was that why he went all subterranean? I mean, he was the oldest, right? Shouldn't he have been king of the gods?"
"His brothers were afraid of him, I think, and he said he had had enough of the world. So, yes. He renounced his claim and withdrew to his own

kingdom. He said it was better that way."

Ti cocked his head to the side, pretty sure he had found a flaw in all this. "So, if he's here, who's watching over this kingdom? All those dead

souls and stuff running around without him or you there to watch them?"

Charon gave a little shrug. "There are very few souls left in the Underworld."
"What do you mean, left? Where would they go?"
"Ah. The great mystery." He turned so he could face Ti fully and lean against the sofa arm. "There are many Lords of Death, you know. They

gather souls according to the particular human's belief, to punish or reward as the mores of the time decree. But all of the domains are temporary
way stations. The domains ruled by Osiris and Yama, by Ereshkigal and Tuoni--Heaven, Valhalla, all of these places are where human souls go until
they're ready for the next stage of existence. Eventually, regardless of whether the soul has been punished or blessed, when they're ready, every
soul vanishes from its chosen resting place and moves on."

"Moves on? Where? Where do they go?"
"That, Tiberius, no one can answer. Not even the gods."

* * * *

Somewhere between the anger and humiliation of Tiberius seeing him as a cheap charlatan and the quiet despair that followed, a thought had

wormed its way into Hades's mind. It would be easier to ask about the dead if he had photographs. If he had been more accustomed to all the
electronic wizardry of this current human world, he might have thought of it during his first trip to the morgue.

In retrospect, though, he realized that might not have been terribly helpful. The bodies were, some of them, several days dead, more difficult for

someone to recognize with each passing day. He called Charon, who sounded oddly subdued, tired.

Does he tire? I suppose he must.

"There are most likely computers nearby, my lord. On those computers are most likely photos taken during initial examination and autopsy.

They would be...fresher than anything you would take now. Since it's a morgue and few people would wander down there with evil intent, I very much
doubt much is password protected. Simply email the photos you need to yourself."

That seemed like sense and something even he could manage.
"Oh, and Ti suggests that you delete the email from the sent folder when you've finished. Ah...and close the files again."
Ti? Charon had advanced to nicknames with the young man? "Tell him good thinking." He strode to one of the computers in the little office

section of the morgue and found what he needed with ridiculous ease. With the phone still tucked between his chin and shoulder, he asked
belatedly, "How is he?"

"He's had a bit of a shock, my lord."
"Oh?"
"Best to talk to him when you come home. At least I would suggest so."
Hades stifled a groan.

Char, what have you done? "I won't be long."

While he remembered to delete the email to himself as Ti suggested, he was nearly caught since his computer navigation skills were sub-par

and he took so damnably long. He moved the mouse for one last click as the attendant was coming back in from lunch, but she was preoccupied
with something on her cell phone and didn't notice the "ghost" at her desk.

He moved past her as she approached her chair, careful of where he placed his feet. While being discovered didn't distress him, it would

certainly have been awkward and would most likely lead to the woman becoming inordinately alarmed. He wasn't here to frighten innocents.

The drive back to the condo flashed by in a blur of thought. He had to glean the

why here--why were these men killed? If he had that, he had a

chance to uncover the

who. Was it possible, as Charon suggested, that these murders were unrelated? Simply a bad week for homeless men?

Yes. Though the details and the timing itched at his mind and wouldn't let go. He had sensed the same signature of intent on the victims. He knew
they were related. He couldn't manufacture something of that nature in his brain because he desperately needed order in his own life right now,
could he? Seeking connections where none existed?

No. Unlike some of his nephews, he'd never been given to hallucinations or moments of madness. No matter how dreadful things were. Too

many threads led in parallel directions for there to be coincidence.

He rode the elevator up, suddenly inexplicably weary. The mirrored wall lay cool against the back of his head as he leaned against it, soothing

in a way it shouldn't have been. Even gods needed to rest at some point. He couldn't recall the last time he'd slept.

No one came to greet him in the foyer, which set off his alarms. He took the time to hang up his coat, and then strode into the living room with

his helm still tucked under his arm. Charon sat primly on one of the kitchen stools, looking carefully not guilty while Tiberius slumped on the sofa, a
miserable mass of withdrawal and obvious embarrassment, head down, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

He glanced between them but Charon unhelpfully waved a hand at the human. Hades cleared his throat and Tiberius's head snapped up, his

pale skin flushing an interesting shade of rose.

"What's wrong? Are you well?"
"Yeah." Tiberius ran a shaking hand back through his hair, Hades watching in fascination as his fingers parted the dark russet-colored strands

into little river valleys. "I'm...fuck. Look, I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry."

"About?"
"For, you know, the whole special effects fiasco. For basically telling you that you're batshit crazy. Or a liar."
"Ah." Hades shot a glare at Charon who was studiously looking the other way. "And what brought about this realignment of conclusions?"
"Char, um, took me down there. Freaky. Really freaky. But hard to ignore or explain away."
The floor vibrated under his feet and he realized he was growling. Both of his companions had edged back, eyes wide. "You took a living

human to the Underworld? Have you lost all sense?"

Charon finally turned his head, not quite meeting his eyes. "It was only the near bank of the Styx, my lord. I held him tightly the whole time."
For some reason he couldn't fathom, the thought of Char holding Tiberius against him made his hackles rise. It made no sense. Char had just

been trying to keep him safe and it wasn't as if he had any claim on the young man or any attraction to him...

Holy rivers of night.
No, that was ridiculous. He hardly knew this man. Yes, he'd held him in his arms, but only because Tiberius had been too weak to walk on his

own. Yes, he had such soft hair, the color of oak leaves in autumn. Yes, he had marvelous, expressive dark eyes, so changeable as they shifted
from hard and suspicious to filled with wonder and vulnerability. But he was hardly the strapping warrior that usually attracted Hades. Far from it.

He realized belatedly that he had been standing there glowering while he muddled through his chaotic thoughts. Charon had folded in on

himself, shoulders slumped, staring at the carpet. Tiberius had pulled his knees up under his chin and wrapped his arms around them, rocking
miserably. He heaved a slow breath and took the two steps to pat Char awkwardly on the shoulder.

"Apologies, my lord. I overstepped."
"Perhaps acted a bit in haste." Hades continued toward the couch and dropped to one knee in front of Tiberius. "I've frightened you, Tiberius."
"Ti."
"Pardon?"
"No one calls me Tiberius. It's just too much of a mouthful."
I like the name. It's a good, strong name. "Ti, then."
"You are scary," Ti said with his knees still tucked up under his chin. "Sometimes. I wouldn't want to piss you off. But no, I was plenty freaked

out before you got home."

Hades ran through all of the things other family members did when they wanted to offer comfort, Hestia, Hermes, Aphrodite and Dio.

Nonthreatening comfort. He hazarded a guess and placed his hand gently on Ti's foot, realizing that the foot in question was encased in a familiar
sock. One of his socks. "Don't be frightened. Please. It was a glimpse of something startling, yes, but my realm has so many beautiful places. It's
simply one of the many realms where human souls choose to go."

"Yeah. Got the rundown on that from Boatman over there." The corner of Ti's mouth quirked up at some private joke. "I think I'll be okay. Mostly.

Kinda lost it when the dog started barking, though."

For a moment, Hades had to stay completely still, pretending his heart had turned to stone. His voice still had an odd rasp to it when he finally

said, "You saw my Cerberus? How did he look?"

"Like some horror movie monster," Ti began and then snapped his mouth shut, realization creeping over his expression. "Um, I mean he

looked good. Healthy. Loud. Your dog, huh?"

"Yes."
"Miss him, don't you?"
Hades could only nod, unable to trust his voice.
"Bet he misses you, too." Ti gave him an odd smile. "You'd make such a great comic book. Hades and his dog. Kinda like Lockjaw."
"Pardon?"
"Well, maybe not that big. But the same idea."
"I have trouble believing we're speaking the same language sometimes."
Charon broke in from across the room, "Is there a place in this comic for me?"
"Oh, hell, yeah." Ti shot him a crooked grin. "Gotta have a kickass sidekick with cool superpowers."
Oddly, Charon preened under the bizarre...praise? Hades shook his head. Clearly, he had not paid enough attention to the human world over

the past two centuries.

Chapter 4: Photos And Packages

Status. Four days without a drink. Check. Warm, safe place to sleep and some new clothes from the thrift store. Check. New toothbrush.

Check. Mind completely gone because I've accepted living in a mythological figure's apartment. Check.

Fine, Ti hadn't completely accepted it. The whole situation still left him startled and disoriented when he thought about it too much. Not to

mention the fact that he'd started to feel guilty about it all and he couldn't recall the last time he'd felt guilty about anything. Well, there were some
things, sure. But they'd been so drowned in booze lately...

The conversation with Charon that morning hadn't helped. He seemed to have been teasing, but it was so hard to tell with him.
"Do you cook?" Charon had asked as he made a huge batch of pancakes for breakfast. His lordship, when he remembered to eat, could scarf

down enough to feed a herd of wildebeest.

"Not to speak of. I mean, I can heat stuff up in the microwave."
Charon gave a dismissive wave. "Clean?"
"Um..."
"Never mind. Drive?"
Ti fought the embarrassed flush and knew he lost. "Had my license yanked about a year ago."
"I see. Sing, perhaps?"
"People've asked me not to."
"Well, then, what earthly good are you to anyone?"
He had glanced up, startled by the smooth, purring delivery of that statement to find Charon grinning at him. He seemed to be kidding. Maybe.
But the conversation stuck with him now as he shrugged into his newly laundered coat and trudged after Hades down to the not-yet-invisible

Viper. Useless. Yep. That pretty much summed him up. Not that it had bothered him for a while. Now it did. Somehow being a useless bum in the
eyes of the Lord of the Underworld bothered him a hell of a lot. Maybe he could at least make himself useful today. That was the idea, right?

Broad, brooding and gorgeous was in a mood that morning. Not an angry mood, necessarily, Ti had seen that, and it was scary, but distracted,

barely acknowledging the people around him. He did manage an almost-smile for the lady and pug combo in the elevator. (Smile directed at the
pug half, not the old lady half, of course.)

It's sort of a cute almost smile. In a brooding, I could snap you in half way.
Not the sort of thought his muddled brain should even try to entertain.
The big guy was distracted enough to make the car vanish before Ti got in. He fumbled for the door latch for what seemed forever before the

door opened from the inside and a powerful hand reached out to yank him into his seat.

"Hey! Easy!" The surprised squeak in Ti's voice ruined his try at angry. Oh, well. It wasn't as if Hades was going to see him as a macho he-man

no matter how he sounded. He had a brief, bizarre flash of himself atop a knoll holding the Sword of Power. He grasped it in both hands to lift it and
transform into He-Man, only to stop halfway, unable to hoist the thing above shoulder height.

Ti snickered and Hades shot him a puzzled look as he backed out of the reserved parking space.
"Sorry."
With one of those deep, steadying breaths, Hades pulled some folded pages out from under his trench coat and handed them over. "Do you

recognize anyone?"

Stomach lurching, all thoughts of poor-quality cartoons banished, Ti stared at the top page. It was a photo of a man's head and shoulders. His

eyes were closed and he appeared to be lying on a hospital gurney.

Morgue gurney. This man is dead. Part of his mind had known that's what his

lordship was carrying tucked next to his heart, but he hadn't wanted to think about it yet. Maybe a normal person would have asked to see the
pictures the day before. He hadn't, his brain skittering away from it.

The first man had dark, shaggy hair and a scraggly beard, fiftyish, overweight. He looked vaguely familiar but Ti couldn't dredge up a name for

him. He turned to the second page reluctantly, trying to control his trembling fingers. The next victim was younger, closer to his own age. Yes, Ti
knew him. His lank, brown mop and chaotic facial hair were unmistakable.

"That's Catfish."
"There is a fish involved?"
"It was this guy's nickname. 'Cause of his scraggly, prickly mustache. Like catfish whiskers."
"Ah. But his actual name?"
"Never knew it."
Hades stopped at a red light, fingers clutched so hard on the steering wheel the knuckles were parchment white. "The others?"
Ti ducked his head and hurried to examine the remaining pair of photos. He had no idea what the big guy was so ticked off about. He didn't

think the anger was directed at him but no need to make it worse, right? "Um...this one's Torque." He pointed to the hollow-cheeked blond in the
third picture. "He was a race car driver or a mechanic or something once. Never did get that straight. And this one..." He stopped on the last
picture, tears suddenly stinging the backs of his eyes. "Oh."

"Oh?" Driving again, Hades glanced at him sideways. "Tiberius? Are you all right?"
"Shit." Ti wiped his face with his sleeve. "That's Benny."
"He was a friend of yours. I'm sorry."
"Not really. I mean, I didn't know him enough to say he was a friend. But he was only seventeen, damn it."
"So. Our killer murders children." The muscle in Hades's jaw jumped fretfully, his glare fierce enough to bore holes in the windshield.
The steering wheel creaked ominously.
"Um, you may wanna let up there?" Ti tried for a soothing voice. He thought he did pretty well despite the shaking. "I mean, that's got to be an

expensive part to replace. Not that you can't afford it, of course, but what a pain. And a waste."

Hades made an obvious effort to bring his righteous anger down a notch. His hands eased out of their death grip. He rolled his head as if

trying to alleviate muscle tension, but any relaxation seemed minimal.

Quite a neck, too. One that would make a bull proud... Ti caught a glimpse of the object in the backseat and thought he'd try distraction next.

"What kind of a bike do you have?"

"Bike?"
"Motorcycle. I don't see you as a Harley man, somehow, so what do you have? I'd guess something powerful and Italian. Ducati? Vyrus?"
"I don't own a motorcycle."
"Oh. It's Charon's bike helmet, then?"
Hades shot a quick glance at where he pointed. "Ah. No. Helm of Darkness. Modified for the modern world."
"Heard of that. Right. Got it," Ti said as his world tilted again.
For a moment, Hades stared at the road, his silver brows drawn together in a puzzled frown. "Should I have one?"
"Speed freak like you?" Ti hung onto the door as his lordship took another turn way too fast. "You'd love it. All that power between your legs.

What a rush." He wanted to sink through the floor when he caught the unintended suggestive comment. Instead, he shrugged and forged on. "You
already have the helmet."

A shiver ran down his arms and he realized his hands shook. Ti glanced sideways at his host and driver. "You can find this guy, huh? When the

police can't?"

Hades glanced between Ti's face and the photos he held. "I will do all I can, Tiberius. I promise. I have resources humans don't."
"Good," Ti said softly, staring down at Benny's lifeless face. He nodded, his voice gaining a little conviction. "Good."
As they reached downtown, Ti corralled his unreliable concentration to direct Hades to their first stop. They drove down Front Street past the

train station, but instead of hanging the left to head up to the big glass office buildings and the businesses, they continued on straight, past the
corner where Ti had sometimes begged for change. It was a jarring and sudden split, the shining glass towers to the left and the decrepit, dirty
underpass to the right.

All cities had these weird dichotomies, the poor street nestled up close to the wealthy one. Wilmington just wasn't gigantic enough to ease you

into the transitions. There, on that other side of the underpass was a spot out of the wind. If you couldn't get a place in the shelters and you were
lucky in who else was there that night, it wasn't the worst spot in the city to spend the night.

They parked the invisible car around the corner in a deserted spot and made sure no one was around before they got out. The wind was fierce

coming off the river, whipping Hades's duster around his ankles and chilling Ti right down to the sub-cellular level.

You don't notice so much when

you're cold all the time, I guess. And spend most of your time trashed.

The Sunday Breakfast Mission had been there forever. The building was half-brick, squat and multi-roofed, most likely the product of several

additions over the years, with a low, wrought iron fence out front. Without the sign on the building, it could have been a school. They were good
people and did good work, but Ti hadn't stayed there very often. They only had so many spots for single men, and he hadn't been interested in
getting sober or in Bible study, so he wasn't the ideal candidate anyway. He had gotten some decent meals there, though. After Ti explained to the
staff that, no, he wasn't looking for a placing for that night, he was helping Mr. Plouton with an investigation, they agreed to let him ask around.

While Ti did most of the initial questions and introductions, Hades asked the important things in a surprisingly soft, gentle tone. Apparently, he

wasn't just looking for names. When did you see this person last and this one? How did you know them? Were they known to spend time together,
gather in the same places?

Good detective questions, as far as Ti could tell, trying to establish a link between the victims.
They were coming back down the hall toward the front, having exhausted the possibilities of men in residence willing to speak to them, when a

voice called out from behind them.

"Ti! I thought that was you!"
He twitched and turned, nearly smacking into Hades who was directly behind him. "Um...oh, hi, Father Joe. Good to see you." Ti offered his

hand and a genuine smile. Priests, like anyone else, could be nice, compassionate individuals or they could be bastards. Father Joe, well into his
seventies now, was one of the good guys. A Vietnam veteran, a chaplain for the local reserve units for many years after, Father Joe knew life at its
worst and still cared enough to be doing this. He was officially retired but still volunteered with a couple of the shelters.

"You look so much better than the last time we saw you," Father Joe returned his smile, though he shot a speculative glance toward Hades.

"Doing all right?"

It was code, and Ti knew what he meant.

Are you in trouble? Is this man a danger to you? "I'm good, Father. I am. Four days sober." He

waved a hand toward Hades. "This is Aiden Plouton. Mr. Plouton, Father Joe. Mr. Plouton's a PI that I'm helping with an investigation."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir." Father Joe's smile returned to its full wattage as he shook Hades's hand. "And good for you, Ti. Is this a one-time

thing? Or regular employment?"

"That's up to Tiberius," Hades answered for him. "He has a place with us if he decides to stay."
I do? A place...permanent? Doing what? He decided those were questions better asked in private and went on instead to tell Father Joe

about the investigation. Of course, he recognized all of the dead men.

"This is terrible." He shook his head, the light skittering over his bald scalp. "I thought Benny went into rehab. Torque and Catfish we haven't

seen for weeks, but they only wander in occasionally. Harvey was in last week."

"Do you have real names on record for any of them? At least to help the coroner's office ID them?"
Father Joe kept shaking his head in obvious sorrow. "No. I'm sorry. We don't usually have much information unless there's an actual intake.

Someone who wants to go into the discipleship program. Benny had started at one point but balked and ran when they wanted his name."

"Yeah, well. Can't blame the kid."
"No, I suppose not."
"Do you know if these men knew each other, Father?" Hades asked. The tone of respect surprised Ti, though maybe even a god recognized

someone who'd been through hell and came out sane.

"Ti would probably know better than I would on that score. Except for Benny, these were men who only came in for a meal now and then." He

gave Ti a rueful smile. "We can't coax them all off the streets."

The regret in his expression made Ti want to apologize. Weird. He thanked Father Joe instead and they left the building, with one more

nickname but not much else.

* * * *

Back at the condo, Hades wished he had a weapons room to work out his frustrations. They had visited every shelter in the city that took in

homeless men and found out next to nothing. Someone thought they might have seen Benny, the one who had been strangled, with a "trick" the
night he died, but the man couldn't give any details. It was perhaps worse to have discovered that little detail since it upset Ti so much. He had
hoped Benny wouldn't become so desperate that he would take money for sex.

Charon had left a note that he had gone shopping, so the rooms felt hollow in their emptiness. He knew it was all illusion. The rooms were well

furnished. His heart was hollow.

He had recognized that hollowness in so many of the men they had interviewed that day as well, heartbroken men who had taken one blow too

many and surrendered to despair. For some reason, Ti wasn't one of them. Oh, yes, he had obviously given up hope, as recently as four days
earlier, but the empty resignation was missing from his eyes. He still cared about others. He still had thoughts beyond despair.

Which brought him to the question... "How did you become homeless?"
Ti's head popped up from where he had been rummaging in the refrigerator, his dark eyes blinking in surprise. "What?"
"I believe you heard me."
"Um...yeah." Ti put back whatever he had been reaching for and meandered over to the sofa. He sat hard as if his bones had turned to water.

"What if I said I don't like to talk about it?"

Hades leaned a hip against the kitchen counter, determined to give Ti enough space to be comfortable. "Perhaps not. But I've asked."
His eyes still had that haunted, frightened deer look as he glanced up and then tucked his head back down to stare at his hands. "Yeah. You

did."

"Was it like young Benny's situation? Because you prefer men?"
Hades was still trying to fathom the mind capable of such idiocy. Benny's parents had ordered him to leave the house because he had been

caught kissing another young man. How this could bring a family shame, he couldn't understand and how you could simply harden your heart and
abandon your own child was something he would

never understand. Some of his own family had committed such atrocities. He supposed Zeus had

so many children, he had become callous about the parental relationship, which was shameful, especially since others in the family would have
been overjoyed to have even

one child.

Ti did that odd shoulder jerk of his when he was startled. "No. Oh, hell, no. My parents loved me. They knew and they never changed how they

treated me." He heaved a little sigh. "No. See, people lose their homes for as many reasons as there are people. Sometimes it's just a lost job and
the drugs and booze come later. Sometimes it's kids like Benny whose family doesn't want them. Sometimes it's a whole shitstorm of one after
another things that just snowball until you can't see your way through anymore and you just give up because you're too damn tired to care and
nothing will ever be right again."

"I have the odd feeling the last, rather lengthy statement applies to you."
"Yeah." Ti's long, lean body curled in on itself, his face nearly hidden against his knees. He had a habit of doing that when uncomfortable or

upset, folding himself into as small a space as possible. For a moment, Hades thought he had said all he would, but then he sighed again and
continued. "It all boils down to me being an idiot. Trusting too much and not paying attention."

"Not terribly specific."
Ti's fingers twisted together, a hint of anger rolling into his general upset. Good. He still could find anger, so the despair hadn't swallowed him

whole.

"Fine." He spat out. "You want the sad, stupid story? I'll give it to you. Guess I owe you that much." A hard shudder ran through Ti, his gaze

wandering to the wine cooler under the counter, though he didn't ask for a drink. "I screwed around a lot in college. I mean, not sex, just not doing
what I should have. Artist, right? What did I need a degree for? So when I dropped out and started looking for a job, no studio would hire me.
Shocker."

Hades was having trouble following all of it but didn't want to stop the flow of words. He waved a hand for Ti to continue.
"So I knocked around in California a few years. Dad had passed away when I was still in high school, so, you know, I thought giving Mom a little

space might not be a bad thing. Then Mom got sick and she needed me to come home. Turns out, a friend of mine was coming back East to start
his own animation company. Great. I came with him. Perfect. I could be here for my mom, move back in with her to take care of her, and I had a job.

"But Mom was dying slowly. Cancer that started somewhere but they couldn't pin down by the time they'd found it. Years of treatment, and she

just kept getting weaker and sicker. By the end, I wasn't paying much attention to anything, so I didn't see the warning signs. I was worried about
her, worried about the bills, sick to death with grief. Didn't have the time or energy to realize my once-friend and now boss was a lying douche bag. I
should have known something was coming when a paycheck was short and then the next one missing. Cash flow problems, Paul said. It would all
be straightened out shortly. I think it was around then that I started drinking every day.

"I'd taken a short leave because Mom's doctors finally said this was it. The hospital wouldn't let her stay. Had to put her in hospice for those last

days. At some point during that vigil, I called work to let them know what was going on and the number was disconnected. I called Paul's cell. Called
his only other employee, this kid I think he was screwing. Nothing. So I went down to the office. The sign for the company was still on the door but so
was a handwritten sign that said Euphoria Graphics had closed, inquiries should go to such and such a number. Turned out to be a bogus number
and the fucker had skipped town."

What anger Ti had managed to muster abruptly died. He pulled his knees up under his chin, his gaze vacant and weary. "Mom died the next

day. I had to sell the house to cover her bills and her medical expenses. Even then, there was a lot still owed. I had no place to live, no savings left,
no job, and no drive to find one. For a while, I lived with friends, but the drinking went from bad to really bad. The couple friends I had lost patience
with me, and soon I ran out of friends." He gave one of those weary shrugs. "I don't have anyone to blame but myself. I went down hard and didn't
have the fight left in me to get back up."

You had it a few moments ago. I saw it in your eyes, and there certainly are other people to blame. Hades swallowed down all those words.

He didn't think they could do Ti much good. "Complicated."

"Often is."
"What would you do if you could now? If you had the things you needed? Go back to your art?"
"I don't know. Not sure there's anything left. Mostly I just feel empty and confused and you need a little more than that to create."
If he were at all good with others' feelings, Hades would have known the perfect thing to say. He wasn't and he didn't. Instead of trying to

muddle through something that would most likely be awkward and possibly insulting, he said, "Try to rest. You seem tired. I have work to do."

Ti nodded absently, but he pulled the blanket from the end of the couch over himself and lay down.
He did want to make some calls and look some things up on the infernal machine. Perhaps by the time he had tracked some things down, he

would have something useful to say to a young man who had not been abandoned by hope but trampled by it.

* * * *

The late afternoon sky had turned wolf gray by the time Ti woke from his light doze. His body was still so ridiculously run-down that their short

jaunt to the homeless shelters had exhausted him. A phone was ringing somewhere and he couldn't parse a direction.

Not that I should be

answering someone else's phone. He had a brief flash of himself picking up the phone and adopting a bimbo falsetto with a Swedish accent to
answer,

Bialystock und Bloom.

The deep rumble of Hades's voice from the library told him that the master of the house had picked up in any case. A moment later, himself

emerged and strode for the front door.

"Everything all right?"
Hades gave him a blank stare as if he was still surfacing from Loch Ness-deep thoughts. "Package. I'll just be a moment."
Oh, right. Not like the UPS guy would be allowed to waltz into the elevator here at Fort Knox. Security would have to call up and tell the resident

in question about the package. Ti wondered if there was someone on staff whose only job was to carry heavy packages up for elderly or effete
residents.

Hades returned inside three minutes carrying a box half the size of his own body without any apparent effort.

Must be nice to be a god.

He set the box on the floor in the middle of the cavernous living room and regarded it with such a dark frown that Ti wondered if maybe the box

had insulted him. Finally, he knelt next to the cardboard monstrosity, pulled out a small knife, and cut the package open. Head and shoulders
disappeared in the depths of the box, white and pink packing peanuts spilling out in a strange parody of an overflowing bathtub as he dug for the
contents.

When Hades sat back on his heels, he held an absurdly small, bubble-wrapped package in one hand and a note in the other. He unwrapped

the bubble pack carefully to reveal a delicate china...what? Teapot? Samovar? Something beautiful and curvy meant to hold liquid, at any rate.
Glazed in gleaming black, it had a dog painted on the side in the Attic Red style.

Obviously, the big guy hadn't ordered this, since he stared at it in confusion and then put it up on an end table so he could read the note. Ti

watched with growing concern as the puzzled expression became one of disbelief and then utter devastation. It wasn't as if the big guy started
bawling, God, no, not him, but the bone-deep hurt in his eyes made Ti want to punch whoever had sent the damn package.

He got his lazy ass off the couch and knelt in front of Hades in the mess of packing peanuts. "Hey. It can't be that bad."
Belladonna blue eyes rose to meet his over the note, the hurt warring with bewilderment. "Why would she do such a thing? Would it give her joy

somehow to torment me?"

On closer examination, Ti saw that the painted dog wasn't just any dog. It had three heads. Cerberus. Wordlessly, he held out his hand for the

note, a little shocked when Hades meekly handed it over.

Elegant, precise writing scrolled over a spare few lines on what felt like expensive parchment:
For your new home, a housewarming gift, since you must miss him.
Persephone
Ti stared at it, trying to puzzle out if the words somehow held malicious intent. "Okay. I think I see how you might see this as a dig at you. But I

really don't know if it is. I think..." He handed the note back and ran a hand through his hair. "Did she really kick you out?"

"She--" Hades did a full stop before he even got started, his eyes narrowing as he concentrated. "She said she needed to speak with me. I

found her in the throne room. She gave me the divorce papers."

"And the papers, did they say you had to vacate the premises?"
"They said she would still use the palace as her primary residence at that time of year when she is compelled to."
"Right. The whole bringer of spring gig she has going. But it didn't say you had to get out."
"I...thought it best. She doesn't want me any longer."
"Got that part. But it doesn't sound to me like she actually kicked you out, necessarily. Sounds like you drew your own conclusions." He picked

a pink Styrofoam peanut out of Hades's hair. "I think she's trying to be nice. Like she can't make up for the divorce but she doesn't have to be mean
about it."

"But this? She must know it would cause me pain."
"Maybe. Maybe not. I'm getting the feeling you weren't the kind of husband to talk about your feelings a lot." He pulled another peanut loose,

this one white, his fingers lingering in the silver strands. How unfair was it that a god got super strength and speed, killer looks, and perfect soft
hair? "Gonna be okay?"

Hades just stared at the mess on the floor, the fine tremors running through him telegraphing out through the peanuts where they shivered like

alien jumping beans.

What if he cries? What do you do when a god cries? That Hades was a macho, bad ass who had probably cried three or four

times in the few thousand years since he'd been born just added to the whole dilemma. Ti walked on his knees to close the few feet between them,
peanuts crinkling and popping under his shins, and wrapped his arms around Hades, pulling his head onto his shoulder.

To the big guy's credit, he didn't cry. Maybe he should have. But he shook hard enough to make Ti worry that he was chilled or sick. Did gods

get sick? All the important stuff that mythology didn't teach you. After a minute, Hades's arms went around him in return and he found himself
hugged tight to that broad chest. Soon it wasn't him holding Hades, it evolved into them clinging to each other, both of them trembling with barely
leashed emotions and long-held hurts. It was maybe one of the five weirdest things he'd ever done but it was...nice.

Really. Damn. Nice. Gave his body ideas it hadn't had in at least two years nice.
"Um, hey." Ti tried to push back a little but Hades held on tighter, nuzzling his throat, stroking his back with one huge hand. "I don't...I mean

you're really hot and all, but, mmmph--"

Hades abruptly cut off the threatening verbal flood by fastening his lips over Ti's. For just a heartbeat, Ti wondered if it was some sort of Greek

thank you, a cultural variant. When Hades pushed his tongue past Ti's lips, he threw that idea off the balcony along with what little remained of his
sense.

He responded to the kiss with a desperate moan, giving as good as he got, his fierce need shocking as he devoured the lips and tongue

offered to him, surprised as well by the hint of anise and cloves, melting into the furnace heat.

"I shouldn't." Hades broke off with a gasp. "Holy rivers, you've been badly used. This is wrong."
Not the most romantic thing anyone's ever said, but kinda sweet. "What do you think is wrong?" Ti's voice came out a husky purr, the sudden

hesitation a little ridiculous since he'd already yanked Hades's dress shirt from his pants and slid his hands onto the bare skin of his back.

Hades gently cupped Ti's face between his hands, a heartbreakingly tender gesture from hands that could probably crush his skull. "The man

who accosted you on the street, he forced you. You cannot tell me otherwise."

Ti wrenched his head away, wishing that alcohol really could wipe away memory. That Hades had guessed even a hint of his humiliation made

his stomach cramp. But what was he supposed to say?

Oh, yeah, well, the first time he beat on me until I lay down and took it like a good bitch

but the second time he was nicer and let me get trashed enough first so it didn't hurt so much. Hell, no. No one else had to know the full extent of
his inept weakness.

But it wasn't Hades's fault, either. No need to get pissed at him. Ti closed his eyes and pulled in a deep, shaky breath. "Look, there's a big

difference between giving in because you don't think you have a choice and giving yourself to someone you actually want. You get that, right? A
hugegantic difference."

"Even I'm fairly certain that's not a word."
"So you caught me. I make up words sometimes." He stroked a hand up Hades's arm. "I don't feel forced here or coerced. You're hurting. I'm

hurting. We react to that and want to comfort each other. How's that wrong?"

That muscle twitched in Hades's jaw, the twitch that seemed to mean

I'm teetering between pissed off and confused and not sure what to do

about it. With the muscle still twitching, he covered Ti's hand with his, stroking his fingers slowly. "You have such beautiful hands."

"Thanks." A stab of want hit him so hard, his thoughts scattered like an over-sugared toddler's tower of blocks.
This seemed enough permission or absolution or whatever it was Hades needed. He wrapped Ti in his arms again and resumed their fierce

lip lock while Ti's fingers fumbled with his shirt buttons. He had expected smooth skin, preconceptions from Greek statuary, and was pleasantly
surprised to encounter a nice coat of man fur.

I wonder if it's silver? Oh, fuck, I hope so.

He wasn't quite sure why except he found the silver (not white, not gray, but

silver) atop Hades's head so exotic and attractive, the idea of silver

body hair struck him as devastatingly sexy.

Ti lifted his arms to let Hades yank the thermal shirt off him and let himself be pressed back while Hades kissed down his throat. The packing

peanuts crinkled and squeaked under him, making him wriggle and snicker.

"This is amusing?" Hades lifted his head from nibbling on Ti's collarbone.
"Not you and not what you're doing. Oh, hell, no. Just the squeaky sounds." He squirmed to make more of them, hoping maybe his lordship

would crack a smile. Nothing.

"We could move elsewhere?"
"Don't you dare." Ti reached up to stroke his shoulder. "Stay right here."

Where the fading daylight skims across your skin, where your silver

hair glows like starlight over Mauna Kea. When did I turn into such an appalling sap?

He shoved the shirt off Hades's shoulders, impatience climbing up from his balls as Hades stopped stroking Ti's stomach to struggle out of the

cuffs. Yes, the man fur was silver and, yes, it was heart attack sexy, a V of soft hair that condensed into one of the most tempting treasure trails Ti
had ever seen. He trailed his fingertips down a marble-hard chest and over a stomach so firm, leprechauns could use it as a trampoline.

And isn't that a bizarre image.
"Hey." Ti hooked a finger in the waistband of Hades's expensive casual slacks. "Can I see all of you?"
Hades caught his hand and pulled it up to his lips to lick the palm. How someone with his sense of humor removed could be so sensual was

beyond Ti. He knew one didn't really have anything to do with the other. It just struck him as unexpected. With a gentle pat, Hades placed Ti's hand
on the floor and stood. A moment of doubt prodded at Ti as he wondered if the big guy had changed his mind. But no, he didn't wander off. He
undid his fly and peeled out of his pants and boxer briefs--both black, what a shock.

The afternoon light gleamed softly on the fine hairs of his thighs, the muscles there powerful enough to crack a man's skull like a peanut shell. Ti

swallowed hard so he wouldn't have to wipe drool off the corner of his mouth. He wanted to lie between those thighs, wanted them wrapped around
him, and he wanted to wrap his hands around the beautiful cock they framed so well.

You'd think a god's equipment would be huge. He'd expected

monstrous but it was simply well proportioned and sculpturally perfect.

Hades folded his arms over his chest, emphasizing his chiseled pecs. "And you."
Oh, right. This was supposed to be a reciprocal kind of deal. Ti sat up, scooting back against the shipping box. It really wasn't a fair exchange.

He couldn't show Hades anything half as appealing, not even a hundredth as appealing. His hands shook and he couldn't get them to do much more
than twitch.

For all his communication issues, Hades obviously grasped the problem. He knelt beside Ti and pulled him into his arms, hard and warm.

Shouldn't a god of death be cold? Ti whimpered and let his head rest in the crook of Hades's neck, the warm clove scent of his skin wrapping
around him.

"Don't be afraid, Tiberius," he whispered against Ti's hair.
His full name had always made him cringe, but spoken in that profound, serious bass, he found it suddenly compelling, exotic. He let his hands

wander over heated expanses of skin, soft velvet over titanium. Yes, Hades was unzipping his fly. Yes, he was lifted in one ridiculously powerful arm
so pants and briefs could slide off. The haze of pleasure obscured the anxiety and those huge hands on his skin calmed his shaking.

Hades laid him back on the peanut-strewn floor again with long strokes over his sides and legs, his eyes never leaving Ti's body as if he were

grid mapping the surface. Ti found himself holding his breath, almost afraid to break his concentration.

And then...oh, fuck...and then...
A soft kiss along his collarbone slid into a hard suckling on his nipple. Ti arched and cried out, burying his hands in the soft forest of Hades's

hair. The peanuts crinkled under him, their odd, lumpy shapes stimulating his back and butt. Damn if a couple of them hadn't wriggled their way into
his crack, a weirdly arousing sensation.

The kisses didn't stop at Ti's chest but moved farther south, down his stomach, on an inevitable path toward the prize.
Ti gasped when Hades tongued his belly button. Desperately, he tried to pull him back up, away from his cock, but Hades ignored his tugging.
"Um, hey, I'm not...ohgodoh..." Ti's thoughts took a little vacation when Hades's lips closed around the head of his cock, hot and wet, his tongue

gently sliding over the slit. He tried one more time, struggling to sit up. "I can't...I mean, you can't. It'll be over in seconds."

Hades put a hand on the center of his chest and pushed him back down. He wasn't rough about it but his strength was an irresistible force. Ti

was far from an immovable object. The needy puppy whimpers coming from him were just embarrassing. No way anyone could find that sexy and
yet Hades didn't seem to mind. He pinned Ti's thighs with his forearms, nudging them apart so he could settle between.

A hard groan vibrated in Ti's chest as Hades slid his mouth down the shaft to take all of him. It should have been scary, being held down by

someone twice his mass and exponentially stronger. While a little edge of danger hovered around the periphery, especially when Hades started
growling around him, fear didn't enter into it. Ti felt so completely safe, cared for, something he'd never felt with any lover.

Which, of course, makes no sense. The being sucking on him so expertly wasn't even human. A god of darkness and death, Hades had been

so feared by the Greeks that his name wasn't even spoken in prayers to him. Not that you'd pray to him often, apparently, but when someone did, he
struck his palm against the ground rather than speak the name of the dread god. Those Ancient Greeks were supposed to be smart, but Ti was
convinced by now they were wrong about Hades.

In person, he could be scary, sure, but he was a decent guy. Honorable. Concerned. Sexy as hell. And, oh, shit...he could suck an elephant

through an IV tube.

Ti let out a sound altogether too close to a squeak as the suction increased again. He buried both hands deep in Hades's hair, hanging on for

dear life. Hades kept one hand on him, shifting to pull up one knee and take his left hand back. Ti lifted his head far enough to see that the big guy
was jacking himself hard and fast, never losing a beat on Ti's cock.

Now

that was the sexiest damn thing he'd ever seen. Suddenly, Ti was there, his orgasm rising up from his toes. It slammed into him, the force

of it stealing his breath, causing his little sounds of pleasure to become even more embarrassing, little choked grunts, and wheezing moans. He
found he didn't care one freaking bit, all his inhibitions shoved away as he bucked and thrust into the heat of Hades's mouth.

No one would have been embarrassed making the sounds

he did, deep, sexy moans that rumbled through Ti's bones. Since he wasn't good at

dissembling or putting on a front, it was obvious Hades really enjoyed giving head. He growled when Ti came, tonguing him and swallowing every
drop. The hand on Ti's hip gripped hard and the deep moans sped up as Hades thrust against the packing peanuts. They squeaked and rustled,
objecting to the abuse, but Hades obviously didn't care as he bucked and jerked, his cum shooting hot against Ti's legs and stomach. The
aftershocks pinballed through Ti so hard he thought he might pass out.

After Hades finally stilled, he crawled up Ti's body and stretched out beside him, one powerful arm sliding around his waist to yank him close.

Most guys he'd been with relaxed completely after sex, drowsy, sometimes to the point of snoring within seconds of coming. Not his lordship. Oh,
no. He hid his face against Ti's neck and shivered in hard, wracking spasms.

"Hey, hey." Ti wrapped both arms around him, stroking whatever skin he could reach. "You okay? Is this normal?"
When he didn't get an answer, he held on tighter and did what he normally did when he was nervous. He let his mouth go wherever it wanted.

"Um, great. So maybe it is normal. I mean, how would I know? Not like I screw a lot of gods. And maybe Greek gods are different. I mean, why are
there so many gods anyway? Are those alien theorists right after all and you all got stranded here when your spaceship threw a rod or something?"

Hades burrowed closer, the convulsive shaking starting to calm.

Huh. Someone thinks my voice is soothing. That's a first.

"Okay, so, there's this German intelligence guy during World War II, right? And he has to meet his contact in the countryside of Ireland. Problem

is, he only has the guy's name, Joseph Murphy, and a code phrase, 'the rooster moos at midnight.' Great, he thinks, how the hell am I supposed to
find this guy. So he's wandering down the road and he meets this local guy with a cart coming the other way and figures, heck, why not just ask?

"So he says to the Irish dude, 'Would you happen to know Joseph Murphy?' Dude laughs and says, 'You have to be more specific than that.

Half the county's named Joe Murphy, so we have to add our professions to tell one from the other. There's Joe Murphy the Baker and Joe Murphy
the Farmer. Even I'm Joe Murphy. Joe Murphy the Tinker.'

"The spy thinks about this for a second and he decides, well, why not? What do I have to lose? So he says, 'The rooster moos at midnight.'
"The man smiles and pats him on the arm and says, 'Oh, why didn't you say so? You'll be wanting Joe Murphy the Spy.'"
The shivers had subsided during this recitation and Hades had recovered enough to lift his head, regarding Ti with a frown. "I believe that

wasn't an actual tale. That was a joke, wasn't it?"

Ti smiled despite himself. "Yeah. At the end, you're supposed to laugh."
Hades put his head back on Ti's shoulder. "I don't understand why it was supposed to be amusing."
"That's all right." Ti kissed the top of his head, feeling oddly protective. More things that made no sense. "If I have to explain it, all the funny

drains out. At least you let me finish."

At least they'd made some progress.

Chapter 5: Nike

Tiberius slept late. It shouldn't have been surprising. His body was slowly recovering from starvation and exhaustion. He needed sleep. Hades

told himself all of these things as his patience wore thinner and thinner.

He paced the floors, wanting to be out and doing. Ti was going to take him to some of the places homeless men used as places to sleep when

they couldn't find a place indoors. Not that he thought much would come of it, but it would be something to do while he tried to think of the next step
and perhaps he would catch something in the soul currents.

His steps took him to Ti's door, where he hesitated. Would he be welcome if he slid into bed beside the young man's sleeping body? Or would

he be intruding? The previous day's tryst had been strange and wonderful, but the moment Charon came home, Ti had withdrawn from him. He had
attempted to draw Ti into conversation over dinner but had failed miserably and the evening ended with an awkward goodnight as Ti fled to his
bedroom.

The third bedroom was undoubtedly Ti's now. If he decided to leave, his absence would create a strange hole in that part of the condo that

Hades would want to excise. He didn't need more holes in his heart and why it insisted on this attraction was enormously puzzling. Yes, he knew he
was lonely and aching. The need for someone to fill the gaping emptiness was a strong impetus. But he had never chased after a human before,
unlike his brothers and most of his nieces and nephews. The question was, why this one?

Ti had none of the fierce strength of his previous male lovers. He was certain that if he gave the human a weapon, Ti wouldn't have the first

notion of what to do with it. But...but...Hades found his mind clearer when Ti was with him. He felt calmer, more himself. Despite all his oddness and
his obvious weaknesses, Ti had a soothing, gentle demeanor and he was an open, honest soul, someone who had tried to care for those he loved.
He even cared about people he barely knew.

Perhaps the attraction wasn't strange at all. Now if only he could determine what he'd done wrong to make Ti unhappy with him.

* * * *

Ti sat curled up under the blankets in his huge bed. He'd been up for a couple of hours but couldn't bring himself to get out of bed. Oh, sure, it

was warm and sinfully comfortable. He'd had little enough of either lately. No arguing that he needed rest, either. He wasn't well and he knew it. Less
than a week off the bottle and a couple of days of regular food weren't going to put him in peak condition.

None of those filled the bill as the real reason he hid, though. Yeah, he was hiding. He couldn't put pretty icing on that fact. Shame,

embarrassment, confusion--all of those were part of the recipe.

Hades had been in the shower when Charon had come home the previous evening. Ti had been on his knees in nothing but his jeans, trying to

clean up the mess of crushed and cum-spattered peanuts.

"Interesting use of materials," he said in his dry, ironic way. But then he'd stopped short, sniffing at the air. His face had gone hard and cold.

"Leave it," he snapped and then he

hissed at Ti.

He'd fled the room, not sure what he'd done. Charon couldn't be jealous, could he? He'd said he had no interest in sex at all. Though, someone

could be jealous in other ways. Dinner had been awkward and strange, everyone obviously unable to say the things they wanted to.

With a discouraged huff, Ti slid out of bed and went to take yet another shower. He'd had one before bed but he just didn't feel clean enough.

Maybe he never would again. Thing about showers, though, was they were good places to think. He'd had some of his best creative ideas in the
shower. He had to man up and talk to Charon. Hard to say what was bothering the ferryman, but he thought he had a good guess. Then he had to
face the next day weirdness with the big guy who wanted him for another field trip.

He'd heard movement and footsteps, so he knew they were both home.

Damn it, just...

Ti opened his bedroom door and ran smack into a brick wall. After a dizzy moment, the wall resolved in Hades. His heart did a slow roll and

thud even as he wondered again at the fact that the Lord of the Underworld was shorter than he was. Not by much, but he kept expecting someone
who took up so much psychic space to be taller.

"Good afternoon."
"Um, hey. Are you, um, yeah. I guess I've been keeping you waiting, huh?"
Hades gave him an almost imperceptible shrug. "The time of day isn't vital. Tiberius..."
That sounded like the prelude to a serious talk. Unable to face too many things at once, Ti cut it off, twitching to the side so he could get around

the wall of god. "I'll be right down. Let me get my shoes and coat and I want to talk to Char real fast, okay? I'll meet you at the car. Maybe you can
keep it visible for me until I get there?"

Jaw clenched so tight Ti was sure he'd hear teeth breaking, Hades stared at him. Then he moved his gaze to a point above Ti's right shoulder

and cleared his throat. "Very well. Don't be long."

Hades didn't stomp out. His natural grace didn't allow it. But it looked like it was a close thing.

Damn it. Ti didn't hold out much hope that things

would go better with Charon.

"Finally decided to get up, I see." Charon had come out of the back hall, a full laundry basket clutched in his bony hands.
Not a good start. "Yeah. Look, I'm not sure why you're so pissed at me. So how about not hinting and just tell me?"
Charon's black eyes sparked with anger but he kept his voice soft as he answered, "I thought you were an honest, earnest soul. A little odd,

perhaps, but good hearted." He put the laundry basket down, clicking his long nails together. "Then I come home last night to find you've seduced
him. You've destroyed your own life, so you want to work your way into his bed, into a life of ease, is that it?"

"What?" Ti cringed at the angry squeak in his voice but he was too shocked to try to modulate. Anger boiled up from the base of his spine,

giving him courage he might not have had otherwise. "No! Fuck! That's not what happened! He got that package from the Underworld and he got all
upset. He thought she was taking some cruel shot at him and he took it hard. I just hugged him. I couldn't sit there and watch him fall apart!"

Charon straightened up from what had become a threatening crouch. "I see. So you hugged him and semen got all over the place."
"Yeah. I mean, no! Damn it...look, he kissed

me. I wouldn't have started anything like that. I mean, look at me. Do I look like I could seduce

anyone?"

For a long, uncomfortable moment, Charon just stared. Then he let out a little sigh, obviously still ticked off but coming down from furious. "He

wouldn't react to your appearance alone. He doesn't think that way. Perhaps you didn't start it, but involving him in an affair right now can't be good
for him. He's too vulnerable. Too raw." Claw-nails clicked three times in quick succession and then Charon pointed a finger in Ti's face. "Do

not hurt

him or I will rip your windpipe out through the top of your head."

Ti swallowed hard. He had the bad feeling Charon meant it more literally than most people would have. "It's not something I want to do, okay?

He's not what I expected. I mean, Zeus and Poseidon, they get all the credit, all the praise. He's just supposed to be the dark, brooding, cold god of
the dead. But it's not...he's..."

"He's what?" Charon asked, head cocked to one side.
"He's more of a hero type than either of them. More, I don't know, someone you can admire. Look up to. Build temples to. I mean, what do his

brothers have going for them? One's a player who can't keep it in his pants and screwed not one but two of his own sisters and the other's a
freaking drama queen who calls up storms and earthquakes and starts wars when he doesn't get what he wants."

One corner of Charon's mouth quirked up. "I see. I'd be lying if I said I disagreed with you. Oh, go on." He gave an impatient wave. "He's

waiting for you."

Not one to ruin a good moment of escape, Ti did what he did best. He grabbed his shoes and coat and he fled.
Down in the garage, Hades leaned against his still visible car. He looked damn good there, black and silver against the deep red of the Viper.

Ti wished he had the courage and the polish to tell him so without sounding cheesy. Not that he had any business saying it anyway. Why wasn't
anything simple?

"I thought we'd start a little north of the recycling center," Ti said by way of cutting off any deeper conversation once again. "That's where you

found me, so I can show you the places it was easiest to blend into the scenery there."

Hades nodded and got in the car without a word. He didn't look happy, but then, except for those couple of minutes watching dogs and for just

a little while during and after sex, he never looked happy.

"Look." Ti broke the meat locker temperature silence after a few blocks when he couldn't stand it anymore. "I just don't want to talk about it yet,

okay? I think that...we both need to think. Can we do that?" God he was a mess. He wanted to hide his face in his hands to stop any more inane
babbling, and he want to lean over and mash his lips against Hades's, both urges leaving him in knots of anxiety, unable to act.

"Yes," Hades ground out, eyes stubbornly fixed on the road that miraculously did not burst into flames under his glare.
Ti hunched in his coat, casting about desperately for something to ease the tension. "Did you want to just drive by or get out and walk around? I

have to warn you that if you want to walk, you're going to be a little conspicuous."

"Helm."
"Oh, true. But then I'll be walking around looking like a crazy homeless person talking to myself instead of just homeless. Not that it really

matters. The people who live there think I'm crazy anyway. One more thing won't matter."

They parked the invisible car in a lot off Vandever. Hades reached into the backseat for his helmet, slid it onto his head, and promptly vanished

as well.

"Great. How will I know where you are?" Ti muttered as he zipped his jacket up against the wind.
The face shield gave Hades's voice an underwater quality, but he answered from right behind Ti's left shoulder. "I will be beside you, never

fear. Lead on."

"Couldn't you do some Darth Vader heavy breathing or something so I know which piece of air to talk to?"
"Pardon?"
"Never mind."
He took Hades to the spot near the recycling center and then to some of the alleys he'd found worked well for sleeping a couple of blocks over.

It wasn't a horrible neighborhood by any stretch of the imagination. Sure, some houses were boarded up and some properties were run-down or
trashed. But families lived here and some of the streets looked homey still. There was a sense of neighborhood often missing in modern suburban
areas where no one talked to anyone else. Still, no one bothered the crazy, homeless dude so long as he behaved himself. No one would call the
cops just because he was walking down their street.

"It might be easier if I knew what you were looking for," Ti said to the air by his left shoulder.
He twitched when Hades answered from his right, "A trace of soul. A hint of scent. I will know the killer's traces when I feel them."
"Oh. That explains everything so very well."
"Good."
Ti rubbed both hands over his face, wondering if there was a sarcasm font you could use when speaking, something to make things a little less

opaque for his literal-minded benefactor. "But you haven't picked up anything."

"No."
"Damn. Okay. Let's try something else, then. If you're up for a little hike, I want to walk over the bridge toward the train station."
Hades made no objection, so Ti headed them in that direction, across the Christina River and behind the train tracks where a few Dumpsters

made a natural windbreak near the overpass beside the station.

"This was a good place some nights. So long as no hostiles were here first. Usually pretty safe. Cops didn't bother us much back here if we

were quiet. In fact, this was where I met Benny the first time." Ti chewed on his bottom lip. That evening was a little fuzzy in his memory. Lots of
evenings were. "Guess I seemed like a harmless drunk since he snuggled up with me that night."

Hades's stare bored through him even though Ti couldn't see it.
"Don't look at me like that. Nothing happened. The kid was cold. We just sat together and shared the bottle I had."
Footsteps sounded to his right, Hades obviously taking louder steps so Ti would know where he was. A Dumpster lid lifted and lowered, a bit

of trash stirred by the wall.

"Anything?"
"Perhaps. A faint trace of something." Hades sounded frustrated, maybe tired. "Not enough to make out." He suddenly appeared in front of Ti

with his helmet tucked under his arm. "Was there anyone else with you that night?"

Ti shook his head. All the booze had left things a blur. "I don't think that night. I think it was just Benny and me."
"Were you here other nights with him?"
"I don't know." Now Ti's frustration rose as well. He waved his arms toward the Dumpsters, toward the streets beyond. "I don't...damn it, I don't

remember a hell of a lot from the last few months, all right? There are tons of blank spots and too many fuzzy points."

"Tiberius." Hades cupped the back of his head with his free hand. "Do you trust me?"
"I...yeah...for what?"
"Memories can be obscured but they remain intact unless there has been terrible damage. Let me help lift the veil."
He had moved so close, their breath mingled. The urge to lean in just that last half inch and kiss Hades burned in Ti's stomach but he didn't,

held by the intensity of his gaze. "Okay."

Something shifted in Hades's eyes. Darkness flooded them, swallowing the wonderful blue, the whites, and then Ti. A terrible sensation of

falling hit him and he cried out, only to feel himself caught and cradled gently.

"Think of here. This place. The nights you spent here." The now familiar bass was soothing, calming.

Ti's memory of that first night with Benny rushed at him with such sharp focus, it seemed surreal. "It was just me and Benny that first night.

Nobody else was here."

"Other nights in this place. Who was here?"
"It was mostly Benny and me. Those few times it was safe. There was a night..."
"Yes. Think of

that night."

"Funny. Torque was here one night with us. There was a bunch of us. Huddled together. Benny, Torque, and...Catfish? Yeah. It

was Catfish.

"And Harvey?"
Ti thought he shook his head but he felt too disconnected from his body to be sure. "No. Not Harvey. Just the four of us... I think... I... I don't feel

so good."

Instead of the horrible jolt of falling, Ti felt like he was sinking into something deep and murky. He started to panic, afraid he would never find

his way back up, back to the light and air...he couldn't breathe...he had to...

"Hush now. I have you."
Ti gasped for breath as the present day world slowly reentered his vision. He was still standing, sort of, supported in Hades's arms as if they

were dancing and he'd just been dipped. Hades stroked Ti's hair back from his face, his eyes blue again and full of concern.

"Hey there."
"I am sorry. I forget how hard that is on a living mind." Hades lifted him so he stood straight but didn't show any signs of letting go. There was

some thought spinning behind his eyes, something that obviously had him worried.

"What? Am I bleeding out my ears or something?"
"No. Tiberius, I don't wish to frighten you."
"Um, too late. You're scaring the crap out of me."
"I think Harvey's death was a mistake. I think the killer on the roof might have been shooting at you."

* * * *

Hades made him sit on the steps of the train station while he hurried off to retrieve the car. Ti probably could have made the walk back. Maybe.

But he felt nauseous and wobbly so he gave in without too much protest.

Hades was silent again on the drive back and though he helped Ti upstairs when they got back to the condo and got him settled on the sofa, he

had withdrawn again, that moment of electrically charged sexual tension between them evaporated.

He paced like a caged tiger, answering Charon in short, sharp phrases that sounded like code and sometimes weren't even in English. Twenty

minutes later, he stalked back out.

"Should I even ask?" Ti turned to where Charon leaned against the kitchen counter.
Charon still didn't offer him a smile, his lips set in a thin line. "He's obsessing. Has some idea forming that he can't quite get to gel. And he

feels you're too delicate to take out on investigative forays. So now he's out there alone because he doesn't want you

here alone."

This isn't my fault. I didn't tell him I couldn't. He wanted to scream, to rant, but all he managed was a choked, "I'm sorry."
Charon's only answer was a disgusted grunt. He left the room without another word, probably for his own bedroom since Ti heard the door

close a moment later.

"I really should leave, you know," he told the coffee table. It just glared at him with its smug, gleaming black perfection. The reasons for

not

leaving were getting more and more complicated, though, and he had the feeling that Hades would come after him if he did, especially after that
last bizarre pronouncement about the shooter. He couldn't think of a single reason anyone would want to shoot him. If they just hated homeless
people, Harvey would've been just as legitimate a target.

He hadn't left a string of bitter lovers behind him. He'd never broken up a happy home, witnessed a mob killing, or had any dirt on anyone worth

killing him over. The only person he was a danger to was himself. Sad, but not a reason to kill him. But then, what reason could there have been to
kill any of them?

Restless, worried, Ti got up and searched for things to do. He put away the few dishes from the dishwasher, wiped down immaculately clean

counters, and ate some crackers so he wouldn't keel over. He probably should have had something with actual nutritional value, but his stomach
wouldn't settle. Didn't help that Charon kept the place so spotless and flawlessly organized that he couldn't even pretend to be helpful.

It seemed like a thousand years, but the clock said only two hours had passed when there was a thud against the outside door. Ti assumed it

was Hades coming home. He must have had to put something down before he could open the door. But the rattle of keys never came. The lock
never snicked open. Every small hair on the back of Ti's neck stood on end.

Heart hammering, he hurried down the hallway to Charon's room and knocked softly. "Char? You awake?"
The door flew open. Charon glared down at him through a pair of half-spectacles, a book in one hand. Ti glimpsed the title, something about

samurai, before Charon put the book facedown on his dresser. "Yes? What now?"

"There's a thing at the door."
The ferryman's cold disdain shifted to alarm. "A

thing?"

"Someone, maybe, I don't know. There was a thump but no knock, no key..."
Charon shoved past him and raced to the door with Ti following at a safe distance. He stood for a moment with his hand on the knob in an

attitude of listening, his sharp teeth bared. If there was anything bad on the other side of that door, it was in for the shock of its life.

He flung the door open, claws out and ready, and stopped, his gaze drawn toward the floor of the hallway. "Oh, my poor lord," he whispered.
"What? What's wrong?" Ti tried to look past him but Charon shoved him back with a snarl.
By the time Ti picked himself back up, Charon was helping Hades inside. The god limped badly, his head lolling against Charon's shoulder.

Blood stood out against his pale skin along the tattered rips in his shirt and pants. Each step left dark boot prints on the entrance tiles. He clutched
something to his chest, a bundle about the size of a sack of potatoes wrapped in his coat.

"Oh, God, what happened? Hades..." Ti hovered, not sure where to touch or whether he should at all. "We need to call 911. Oh, shit, Char, we

need to get him to a hospital."

"No!" Charon snapped at him. "Are you a complete idiot? Do you want him to end up in some Area 51 lab?"
Whatever strength Hades had left gave out and he collapsed despite Charon's valiant efforts to keep him moving. He fell onto his back, teeth

gritted, the bundle still clutched to his chest. What the hell was that important?

The bundle wriggled. A black nose poked out the top.
"Oh, my lord," Charon groaned. "You put yourself at risk for a dog?"
"Dog fighting," Hades grated out. "Torturing...just a baby..."
Ti knelt beside them, his hands hovering, every gasp and cringe of pain stabbing into his heart. "What do I do? Oh, shit...there's so much

blood."

"Stop being so blasted helpless!" Charon snarled. "Take the thrice cursed pup into the kitchen so I can see to his lordship, you useless,

mewling fool!"

Stung beyond the ability to muster any anger, and far too worried to, Ti gently disengaged Hades's hands from the bundle so he could take the

puppy. He wanted to offer reassurance, some sort of comfort, but he fled from Charon's rage. So what else was new?

"I'm not useless," he muttered to the puppy as he unwrapped it from the coat. "Not completely, anyway."
It was kind of an ugly-cute puppy, with a big, broad head and legs too short to support its stocky body properly. He'd expected a pit bull, but the

shape was wrong. Mastiff? Maybe. He didn't know. She--the puppy was obviously a girl--looked up at him with a little V wrinkle between her eyes
that made her look worried. For good reason, he thought. Welts covered her back and her front paw was bleeding.

"Poor little girl," he murmured. Those damned idiots who "trained" dogs for illegal dog fighting rings were all vicious animals as far as he was

concerned. The terrible things they did to these little critters who just wanted someone to love them, they all needed to be castrated. Maybe made to
watch the dogs eat their balls, too.

"Okay, that's just gross, huh?" He talked to the puppy while he got a roll of paper towels from under the sink and cleaned off the blood and dirt.

Maybe he should have put her in the sink but she was just a little too big to fit under the faucet. She did snap at him once when he tried to clean the
paw. He couldn't blame her for that. Looked like it hurt like a bitch. He did the best he could with it and wrapped it in gauze from the little first aid kit
by the fridge.

Since he'd been exiled to the kitchen, he thought it best to stay there with his charge. Not that she was much trouble. She drank some water

from the crystal bowl he set down for her and then curled up in the nest of towels he'd made in the corner and went to sleep. He sat on the floor
beside her, trying not to worry, trying not to fall to pieces, annoyed that his eyes kept watering.

At around ten, Charon finally wandered in, blood spattered on his white shirt, his hands shaking as he washed them in the sink. He seemed

subdued and tired, but not anxious. Ti took this as a good sign.

"How is he?" Ti managed in a cracked whisper.
Charon ignored him for a long moment as he dried his hands methodically. Finally, he slid onto one of the stools at the counter and leaned his

head against his hand, staring at Ti with a frown that was more puzzled than angry. "I lost my temper with you. That was wrong. You are a bit flighty
sometimes but I had no right to say what I did."

"Sure you did. How is he?"
Charon stared at him a moment more, then leaned over the counter to look at the puppy. "You did a nice job with her, at least." He let out a

long, put-upon exhale. "His lordship will recover. He'll be weak and tired for a day or two. Gunshot wounds take a lot out of a god."

"He was

shot? Wounds? As in plural?"

"Yes, yes." Charon made little patting motions with his hand. "Three shots, though I doubt those particular guns will ever be used again, if I

know my lord. Nothing angers him more than the abuse of dogs and children. Go see him, Ti. He's asking for you."

For me? What the hell am I supposed to do for him? Flustered, he managed to get to his feet without stumbling too much. Charon gave him a

little shooing wave before he buried his head against his arms on the counter.

Exhausted. Got it. There wouldn't be any more help from that corner.

Ti made his way down the hall, keeping his footsteps as soft as possible. Anxiety knotted his stomach as he pushed Hades's door open, his

imagination supplying all sorts of terrible things he might see. Reality was both more and less disturbing. Hades lay on his back, eyes closed, a
black blanket pulled up to mid-chest. All the blood was gone, cleaned up, or hidden, but he looked distressingly still, as if he lay in state, waiting for
the line of mourners to begin filing by.

"Hey." Ti took a step inside, relief flooding through him when Hades's eyes flickered open.
"Tiberius. Come sit with me." The deep voice barely reached him across the room, just a hint of a scraggly whisper.
Ti realized with a little shock that he'd never seen this room before. He'd never ventured this far into the condo, never past Charon's door to

dare disturb the lord of the manor. The room was, as he'd suspected, ridiculously huge. A whole family could have lived in this one bedroom. They'd
had a theater in college smaller than this. Also not shocking, the furnishings and décor were almost unrelievedly dark from the ornately carved black
four-poster to the heavy black and silver tapestry curtains. He needed some prints on the walls, something to break up the feeling of walking into a
cavern.

Ti perched on the edge of the bed and took the hand that reached for him. "Holy shit! You're so cold. Should I get you more blankets? A

heating pad? Socks?"

"No need. Healing leaves me chilled." Hades pulled at Ti to bring him closer to the center of the bed, the tug on his hand disturbing for its lack

of strength. "Stay with me. Please. Sleep with me."

"Oh, um, I don't think you look up to messing around or anything."
"Just sleep. Being alone..."
Hades let the thought trail off but Ti could guess the rest of it. Gods apparently had some kind of super-healing along with all of the other not fair

to humans stuff, but this one thing didn't come easy, apparently. The pain and the profound chill were easy enough to pick up on, but those eyes,
usually so piercing, so confident and calm, held a terrible vulnerability now. Hades was...what? Scared? Depressed? Probably a little of both on top
of feeling like crud. He didn't want to be alone, and he wanted Ti.

The realization hit him like a boot to the head. A little piece clicked back into place that Ti wasn't conscious of missing, warmth filling part of the

empty, hollow places in his chest.

He leaned in to place a soft kiss on Hades's forehead. "Dressed or undressed?"
"As you're most comfortable. I don't want you chilled as well."
As a compromise, Ti stripped down to T-shirt and briefs, clean briefs since he hadn't even gotten dressed until well into the afternoon, and

damn was he ever grateful for clean underwear. The things you didn't even realize you took for granted when you had a home.

He found a heavier blanket in the closet and a down comforter and piled those both on the bed before sliding under the covers. Damn. He

hoped Hades would warm up soon, since he wasn't crazy about sleeping next to a godscicle all night. Though that was an uncharitable thought he
squashed as soon as it surfaced. Poor guy was hurting and miserable, so Ti had no right to complain about a little cold.

Hades had his eyes closed again, but his breathing was uneven, almost panting, so Ti knew he wasn't asleep. Bandages wrapped his chest,

his right thigh, and right shoulder, giving him clear indications of where the bullets had hit. No regular person would have survived three hits like that.
Probably not. Especially not survive

and get a puppy out of the melee, drive home, and stagger all the way to the door carrying said puppy.

"She's doing okay," Ti said as he wrapped an arm over Hades's stomach and nestled close to his uninjured side. "The puppy. She's really

interesting looking. Some kind of mixed breed?"

Hades cracked one eye and said something Ti wasn't sure he caught.
"She's a boar bull? Like a pit bull, but for hunting boars or something?"
"No." Hades slid his left arm under Ti to pull him closer. "She's a boerboel. South African dog. A protector."
"So she'll get big, huh? Meant to hunt lions?"
"Among other things. Good dogs."
"You gonna keep her? I mean, an unusual breed like that, ten to one she was stolen. None of my business, of course, but if someone's missing

their pup..."

Hades glanced at him sideways, doubt and unhappiness riding in his eyes. "How difficult? To find her person?"
Shit. He wants to keep her but now he feels guilty. Good one, Ti. Way to make him feel better. "Might be impossible. Depends where she

came from. Here's what I'd do, if it were me. I'd run an ad online, make it vague enough that the owner would have to describe the puppy. They'd
have to be real specific for me to believe them. If the owner shows up, great. If not, after a couple of months, I'd take the ad down and call it done.
Puppy needs a good home, right?"

Hades's jaw tightened, a sign of resolve. "Yes. You will help me with this?"
"Of course, I will. It's easy. I'll show you." Ti stroked his stomach in slow circles. It seemed to calm him as his breathing slowed. "When you feel

better. If you end up keeping her, what'll you call her?"

"Nike."
"Oh. Like the shoe?"
"It means 'victory.'"
"Nice. I like it. You want me to shut up and let you sleep or you want me to babble to you about random stuff?"
"You have a lovely voice," Hades murmured. "Talk to me."
For a long moment, Ti forgot how.

He had a lovely voice? No accounting for taste, apparently. Whatever made the big guy feel better, though,

he was willing, so he gathered up some words and started to talk softly, feeling the hard muscles under his hand begin to relax, the chilled skin next
to his begin to warm. He talked about disjointed, small talk things at first like the weather pattern for the next week and the dogs he'd seen out the
window that day. He moved on to artists he liked and odd tidbits about graphic design. He catalogued which pieces of Hades's sculpture collection
he particularly admired and then moved on to recite bits of children's stories, simply because they tended to be repetitive and soothing.

Halfway through The Three Little Pigs, he realized Hades had dropped off to sleep.

Chapter 6: Dreams And Spice Mills

The cold pressed in on Ti until he felt it might crush his ribs. He sat on a sidewalk, his legs stretched out in front of him. He knew it was April

because a flock of those damned marshmallow peeps had just flown by, a whole rainbow of them, and Easter was in April that year. How he could
see them so clearly at night, he wasn't sure. Maybe they had internal lighting.

He was staring out across Vandever at his parents' house, which didn't belong there. It should have been across town. His mother was out on

the porch in a rocking chair, knitting, something she'd never learned to do. He wanted to shout across the street to her, but he knew she wouldn't
hear him. The cold was in the way.

Suddenly, Benny was beside him. "Look, Ti. What the hell?"
The words echoed in his mind endlessly, ricocheting off layers of memory. He felt Benny's hand on his arm and turned to his right. An SUV had

pulled up nearby. Someone with a hood obscuring his face opened the back. "He" was what occurred to Ti because of the breadth of shoulder, but
it could have been a powerfully built woman.

"You shouldn't be here," Ti's mother said from beside him, knitting needles clutched in one hand.
"I know, Mom. I just--"
An adrenaline charged buzzing filled his head and he turned to see the figure from the SUV running toward him, holding out a bundle wrapped

in tarp and clothesline. All he could see of its face were gleaming teeth--

Ti surged up in bed, drenched in cold sweat, his heart trying to hammer its way out of his chest. "Oh, fuck...oh, fuck..."
He twitched when a hand stroked his arm, but his alarms settled when he jerked around to find Hades lying next to him, sleepy-eyed and bed-

tousled. "Tiberius? What is it?"

"Bad dream." Ti pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around his shins. "Just a really freaking bad dream."
"Lie down." Hades opened his arms, inviting Ti into his embrace. He dived into the offered shelter, shuddering convulsively. "Do you recall it?"
"Pieces." Ti buried his face against the crook of Hades's neck, breathing him in. His heart started to calm, the dream already fading. "It was

weird. Part disjointed dream, part memory. Benny was there. Probably since we were talking about him yesterday. It was that night last April you
were trying to get me to remember--"

Ti cut off abruptly, choking on his words as the actual memory coalesced and sharpened. Black spots whirled in his vision as cold fear knifed

through him.

"What is it?" Hades rolled toward him, gathering him in a gentle embrace. "Tiberius? What's hurt you?"
"Fuck...oh, fuck." Ti gulped for breath. "We saw something that night, the four of us. I was just too drunk to remember until now. There was a

man. I think it was a man. He pulled up in a silver car, pulled something big out of the back and tossed it in the Dumpster. I didn't think...he must
have seen us after he did it. But something spooked him. He took off pretty damn fast. Maybe a squad car was trolling by."

Ti lifted his head so he could see Hades's face. "The thing he dumped in the trash. It must've been a body. That's all I can think. The shape. The

size."

"Hmm." Hades grunted as he levered himself up in the nest of pillows against the headboard. He kept Ti in the protective circle of his arms,

though, petting him and stroking his hair. "There is a certain logic to it. Rather than random killings, the deaths have been to silence those who
might have seen."

"But I didn't see anything! It was dark! The person wore a hood! I don't even know what the license number was on the car."
"The person dumping the body, we must assume it was a body, doesn't know this. You are, as they say, a loose end."
Ti stifled a whimper against Hades's chest. "I don't want to be a loose end. I don't know anything worth shit. This is crazy."
"You're safe here. I won't let anyone harm you." Hades kissed him softly. "Do you know the date this happened? The week? Approximate time

of month?"

"No." The kiss had acted like a plug on the shudder faucet. "Not really. But I wonder if the police found the body. You know, maybe a couple

days later or something."

"We can search for this, I think."
Ti sat up to look at him, knowing his eyes were probably wide as saucers. "Yeah. Yeah, we can. Want me to bring your laptop in here?"
"Please, and if you wouldn't mind terribly, would you fetch breakfast and the pup as well?"
"No problem." Ti stole another kiss with a little smile. The big guy was obviously feeling better since he was thinking about food, and it was just

too damn cute that he wanted to see the puppy.

So someone wants to kill me. Okay, wait, so someone already tried to kill me and missed and killed poor Harvey. But I can't worry. I've got

some pretty badass, bizarre backup now.

Ti caught himself on the kitchen counter, suddenly dizzy.

Yeah. Still not good. Someone's trying to kill me.

"Didn't sleep last night?" Charon's gentle hands supported him under his elbows, the edge of chill disdain gone from his voice.
"Wasn't anything but sleep," Ti managed through his panting as Charon lowered him to the floor. "Someone's trying to kill me."
"Hmm. So one understands. Head between your knees. Deep breaths."
"I mean I think I might know why now. At least part of it." Ti pulled in a slower breath and felt the room steadying. "He...he wants his laptop.

Wants me to help him with some things. And his breakfast. And Nike."

"Nike?"
Ti pointed across the kitchen to the puppy watching him with shy interest from her towel nest.
"Oh. I see." Charon stood and scooped puppy and towels up to deposit them next to Ti. "She's had her walk. I'll get my lord his breakfast. His

laptop's on the coffee table."

The sudden one-eighty or three-sixty or whatever it was in Charon's attitude confounded him. "Char? Why aren't you pissed at me still?"
Charon lifted him to his feet and placed the wriggling puppy in his arms. "I looked in on him late last night. You were shivering in your sleep but

you still held him. He was...he looked so content."

"What were you going to say? He was what?"
Charon turned away to busy himself in the kitchen cabinets, studiously not looking at him.
Ti managed an eloquent, "Huh." Then he hurried to the living room, tucked the laptop under his arm, and made his way back to the bedroom,

juggling expensive device and wriggling puppy.

"There she is." Hades held a hand out, his eager expression not quite a smile but perilously close as he caught sight of Nike.
She whined and wriggled so hard, she forced Ti to put her down on the end of the bed or risk dropping her. As soon as puppy feet met

comforter, the brindled foundling stumbled and galumphed her way up the bed to Hades. The whole body wriggle made it evident which guy she
had been waiting to see, even to someone who didn't know much about dogs.

"Have you been a good girl? Not giving Char any trouble?" Hades petted her gently, careful of her welts as she climbed into his lap. Even

though he didn't really smile, his eyes shone.

Ti hoped she wouldn't be crawling into his lap still when she reached her full growth but he wasn't going to say it when Hades looked so happy.

He almost hated to power up the laptop and get started on what he'd promised. Better to get it over with, though, so he sat cross-legged on the bed
beside them and connected.

"Oh, this looks good. Ebay has a local pet lost and found. Let me take a quick scan through before I post anything...nope, no missing puppies

like her. And I'll check the SPCA and stuff, too." After a few minutes getting organized, he turned the screen to Hades. "How does this sound?
'Found in Wilmington area: female boerboel puppy, approximately...' How old would you say she is?"

"Three months, at most."
"You're kidding me." Ti thought his jaw might have come unhinged. At three months she was bigger than some of the adult dogs living in the

building. But he dutifully added

three months old and the number to the condo. "There. If anyone calls, they'll have to tell you what color she is and

everything. Don't volunteer any information, right?"

"No. We don't want her to end up where she was."
Ti heard the extra meaning behind the words but resisted the urge to call him on it. He had the feeling Hades was going to keep this little girl

one way or another. Aw, hell. She obviously loved him to pieces already. It would just be cruel for someone to waltz in and take her back.

He trolled the search engines in contented silence, leaning against a broad shoulder, occasionally nudged by a wet, inquisitive nose. It all felt

ridiculously comfortable and right and he knew he was heading for a crumpled heart. He couldn't stay here forever and at some point, his lordship
would recover enough to realize he could do a hell of a lot better than a broken down, skinny ass bum. For now, though...he might as well enjoy the
now part.

There had been six murders reported that past April, so he concentrated on cataloguing those. Three shootings linked to bar fights--everything

out in the open and no hiding bodies. One murder/suicide, so no on that one as well. One workplace jilted lover murder with dozens of witnesses.
One...

"Bingo."
"Something promising?"
Charon hip-checked open the door, one hand balancing a bed tray, every inch of its surface occupied by breakfast and that was without the

coffee carafe clutched in his other hand. "Are we investigating?"

"Yeah. Found it." Ti turned the laptop to Hades so he could read the news snippet for himself. "Guy was found in the back of a trash truck.

Seems like this truck is the one that does the pickup behind the station."

Hades's silver eyebrows drew together. "Was the body identified?"
"Not in this article. We'll have to see if there's any follow-up."
Charon shooed him back so he could set the tray across Hades's lap. A couple of heart attacks' worth of scrambled eggs occupied one huge

plate, with toast, jam, two glasses of orange juice and...what the heck?

"The eggs are for you, my lord. You need the protein." Charon poured coffee and handed Ti a mug. "The breakfast burrito is for Ti. My first

attempt at one but it should be a good two thousand calories, I'd think."

"Oh...wow." Ti peeked inside the tortilla and the instant the scent hit, his head was wrapped in heaven.

Cheese, chorizo, salsa, refried beans,

sour cream, oh, hell, yeah. If I can keep this down, I might gain a couple pounds. "I don't suppose you'd marry me?"

"Dream on, art boy," Charon said with a snort as he sat at the foot of the bed and took the laptop. "I need someone practical who knows how to

fix boats."

Ti chuckled and then moaned in ecstasy as he took his first bite of breakfast. Sure, it was possible that Charon used some sort of magic on

the food he prepared. The simple fact that he was

hungry made him a little suspicious. But magic was probably overkill when someone had been

eating irregularly for months, often picking at dicey things that may or may not have been actual food.

Little bits of egg made their surreptitious way down from the tray to an eager puppy, though Hades made certain he was the one eating every

time Charon glanced his way. About three quarters of the way through, Hades leaned down and murmured to Nike, "That's enough, little one. Too
much will upset your system."

It was almost as if she understood. She immediately stopped begging and curled up next to Hades's thigh with a soft exhale.
Maybe he does speak dog. Hades, Lord of Death and Patron God of Canines.
"This is rather frustrating," Charon muttered, hunched over the keys. "It's as if no one cared. They publish the story about the body being found

and then nothing after. No details, no identification of the body. Nothing."

Ti shoved the last bite of burrito in his mouth and licked his fingers before wiping on a napkin. "Lemme see."
He checked

The News Journal, the Business Ledger, the Newark Post, though that was usually community stuff, even the Review, in case the

college kids had gotten wind of anything. Nothing. No follow-up story, no interviews with the horrified sanitation guys, no statements from the police.
"Huh. I know the local paper's not exactly hard-hitting, but you'd think they'd want to dig a little bit."

"I have heard that the police will sometimes withhold information in a puzzling case." Hades set the now-plundered breakfast tray aside.
Charon gave him a slow nod. "I believe that's true, my lord."
"As soon as it would be polite this morning, I would ask that you call Hermes."
"What do I tell him?"
"I need to know what the police know. He does a bit of computer pilfering, doesn't he? Hacking? Isn't that what they call it?"
"My lord, I'm shocked." Charon's lips twitched into an ironic grin. "That would be dishonest."
Hades shrugged and winced. "Perhaps. But we have no intention of using the information for evil purposes."
Breakfast had improved his coloring but the simple act of eating had obviously tired him out as well. Ti powered down the laptop since they

weren't getting anywhere that way, and smoothed a stray lock of hair back from Hades's cheek. "Hey. You're all cold again. Maybe you should go
back to sleep."

"Such a sensible suggestion." Charon retrieved both laptop and tray. "Since you most likely won't listen to me, maybe you'll listen to your pretty

new lover."

The words skidded sideways into Ti, throwing him off balance. He stared at Charon, trying to see if he was being facetious, but, no, he just

looked determined and no-nonsense about getting his lordship to take another nap.

"Very well," Hades grumbled and let Ti help him back under the blankets. "I don't want to disturb Nike at any rate."
"Exactly. Puppy needs her sleep." Ti kissed him softly and followed Charon out when he indicated with a head jerk to come along.
Out in the hall, Charon put everything down and ran both hands back through his hair in a harried fashion. "I have some calls to make, but then

I'll be going. Keep an ear out for him. I have to get to the pet store. There's so much we need--"

"You really think that's a good idea? Getting her all settled in? What if her owner shows up?" Ti asked in a worried whisper.
Charon cocked his head to the side. "It would take a truly heartless person to take her away from him now, and I don't think he'd let her go with

someone so horrible. He'll compensate the owner fairly if they materialize. But this dog has chosen him."

"Yeah. He's owned now." Ti couldn't help a grin at the picture of the two of them snuggled in bed, though the goofy smile slipped on another

thought. "He needs this pretty bad, doesn't he?"

"Yes." Charon gave him one of those long, piercing looks. "He does. Remember that, Tiberius."
A little shudder ran through Ti as Charon walked away, the barely veiled subtext making his breakfast roll over.

You're part of what he needs

right now, that look said. Don't screw it up.

He showered and dressed in his comfortable, ratty jeans and a Roxy Music T-shirt Charon had snagged for him somewhere. The light

streamed through the balcony doors when he came out into the living room, so he settled on the sofa with a notebook he'd found in his room and he
sketched, listening to Charon's voice rise and fall as he paced the apartment making his phone calls.

"No, it's not a joke," the ferryman said with a chuckle on one call. "You can ask him yourself when you get here. You know your uncle doesn't

make jokes."

That would be the Hermes call. Ti wondered if he should be anxious about meeting Hades's relatives. He'd met Hermes before, of course, but

only recalled him in vague bits and pieces, glimpses from the bottom of the withdrawal pit. It wasn't as if he'd be meeting Hades's parents...though
his mother was probably still around somewhere. That was an odd thought.

Charon's voice had taken on an irritated edge, obviously on a different phone call. "It's in her will. I know she's considerably heavier. Listen...no,

Martin, I don't care what you have to do. Get a damn seamstress in there and add panels to the back. No one will see her back. Whatever it takes."

He paced into the kitchen, his movements twitchy and angry as he sorted through a drawer. Ti knew that Charon had a business, a funeral

home, but it was still a little creepy to hear him discuss a client. When Charon turned to go back to the library, he jerked a hand through the air and
vanished, only to reappear three feet ahead of where he had been. He did this all the way back to the front hall where he retrieved his coat, twitch,
vanish, and reappear, as if he were a badly edited bit of film. Or an incredibly ingenious bit of edited film, depending on the effect you wanted. Ti
tried not to stare. After all, he'd experienced this particular talent firsthand over a much greater distance.

"Mrs. Tolliver wanted to be buried in her wedding dress, Martin. Hers. Not some substitute. Just make it happen." Charon thumbed the phone

off with a huff and turned to Ti. "I'll be a few hours. Lunch for all three of you is in the fridge in clearly marked containers." He gave a little wave, and
left to accomplish his errands.

The quiet wasn't deafening, it was comfortable, a warm and private quiet. Ti let himself relax completely, concentrating on letting muscles

unwind that he'd forgotten were permanently tense. A tremulous, off note in the peace eventually worked its way into Ti's brain, worming up from the
hindbrain to make his hands twitch and shake.

A little drink won't hurt anything. Lots of people have a glass of wine with lunch. That's not being a drunk.
Before he was fully aware of moving, he'd set down the notebook and made his way across the condo to the little wine fridge under the center

island's counter. Maybe something in there that wasn't too pricey. A Sutter Home. A Yellow Tail. A Cupcake. One of those wines that were decent
but didn't cost a mint. He was willing to bet Charon did his research.

He reached out with a shaking hand, his heart hammering, and yanked the door open.
Empty. Holy...
Not quite empty. There was a note:
Not on your life, Snyder. I wouldn't be so cruel. It's all gone, even the rubbing alcohol.
-C.
"You asshole." Ti crumpled the note in his hand, sliding down the corner of the island until he sat on the floor, eyes blurring with tears. "Fuck

you. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

He thought about leaving for the nearest liquor store. There had to be cash stashed around the condo somewhere...crap. That thought

slammed him into the nearest emotional wall at eighty miles an hour. For just a second there, he'd seriously considered taking money from the
people who had cared for him and sheltered him.

"I'm so messed up," he whispered to the note. Trying to sneak booze was bad enough. Good thing Charon had anticipated him. Maybe he'd

anticipated everything else, too, like the potential theft or the idiot drunk wandering out alone where someone wanted to kill him. He pulled himself
together enough to get up and realized his shoes were missing. Oh, yeah, tall, white, and scary had been way ahead of him on everything.

He snorted on a chuckle even as he wiped tears from his face with a shaking hand. Maybe he could distract himself with trying to search for

info on the Dumpster victim, or he could...

The tap of little nails on hardwood distracted him instead. Nike came around the corner with a hesitant wriggle and then a galumph-gallop

toward him.

"Hey, hey, what'd you leave him for?" Ti scooped her up, worried about possible reasons for her desertion. He tiptoed down the hall and

peeked into the master bedroom where Hades lay curled up on his side. The blankets rose and fell in a steady rhythm that indicated deep sleep.
Ah. Little Miss Wriggles had just gotten bored.

He took her back out to the living room and tried his best to devise some quiet puppy games. Chase the balled-up paper was a hit, but only

lasted until the paper became a soggy mess. Wrestle with Ti's sock went well, too, though the puppy growls got a little carried away. At some point,
he looked up at the clock and realized it was almost noon. Hades still slept so peacefully, Ti didn't want to wake him, so he decided on lunch with
puppy.

Three plastic bowls with lids occupied the top shelf of the fridge, labeled "god," "dog," and "gdo." Fine, he knew which was which, but gdo?

Under the letters in print small enough to make him squint, were the words "gosh darn oddball."

"Funny, Char," Ti muttered. "Hilarious."
Nike, right underfoot at the smell of food, happily settled with him on the kitchen floor for lunch, hers, a bowl of some ground meat concoction

and his, a heavenly corned beef on rye.

The salt and pepper mills joined them, ridiculously huge implements that could have doubled as weapons. Shining black wood as long as Ti's

forearm, the pepper mill towered over all the other condiment denizens on the counter. Salt mill (not shaker, oh, no, this was a mill for those big-ass
grains of expensive sea salt) was an elegant, silver tower, much taller than squat little nutmeg mill and round cinnamon shaker, but still dwarfed by
pepper mill. He...the pepper mill had to be a he...looked so ominous and threatening beside the proud, silver salt mill.

"Behold, people of Spicevania," Ti intoned in an artificially deep voice, sliding the pepper mill toward Nike. "I, Lord Darktower, have returned to

claim my rightful place on the throne. Regent Silversides, you must fulfill your obligations and step aside."

Nike wriggled and nudged the pepper mill, apparently enjoying this game as much as the more active ones.
"No, dark lord," Ti gave the salt mill a soft, feminine voice and moved her forward to confront the pepper mill. "Your cruel reputation precedes

you. You bring sorrow and carnage in your wake. I will never step aside for you. Never!"

"Damn your spunky courage!" Lord Darktower snarled, looming over the salt mill.
A little shuffle yanked Ti's head around and he saw to his horror that two sets of eyes besides Nike's were watching him play make-believe with

kitchen implements. Hades sat on one of the kitchen bar stools, dressed only in black pajama bottoms, chin propped in his hand. Charon leaned
against the wall nearby, a bemused expression on his face.

"Um, hey. Didn't hear you come in." Ti's face felt as if he'd suffered instant sunburn, indoors.
Charon shook his head. "You are so strange."
"Isn't there more? I'd like to hear the end of the play." Hades sounded oddly disappointed.
"My lord, it's not a dramatic piece. He's simply spouting off nonsense to entertain the pup."
"Oh. Pity. I was hoping there would be complications and unexpected family ties and things of that nature."
"I don't think it was meant to be Oedipus."
Ti managed a more or less dignified scramble up from the kitchen floor so he could replace the spice mills and pick up the dishes. "So wasn't

Oedipus a real story? I mean, didn't you punish him? Set the Furies after him for the rest of his life?"

Hades gave a tired snort. "As if the Erinyes had nothing better to do than to follow an already tormented man about. Oedipus was real. The

play is fiction."

"But you did judge souls, right? Set up punishments? I mean there's Tantalus and Sisyphus and all those."

All those because those were the

only denizens of Tartarus that Ti could pull out of his cracked brain on short notice. He dived for the fridge to pull out his lordship's lunch, hoping to
distract himself long enough to recover from terminal embarrassment.

"I did not assign punishment." Hades pulled in a deep, appreciative breath as Ti set his container in front of him and opened the lid on several

sandwiches and a herd of blueberries. He surprised Ti with a kiss to his jaw before he continued, "I directed souls. Who was to receive punishment.
Which souls were blameless. But there were human shades, clever men in life, who would actually assign punishments."

"Oh." Another thing they didn't teach in school. The whole Chthonic mystery thing had been pretty well glossed over, come to think of it.

"But...wait. So since I've seen the place, would I go to your Underworld now when I die? Do people still?"

Hades took a huge bite of sandwich and Ti wondered if it was to give himself a chance to think or to stall for time. "Difficult to say what a

human soul will do, Tiberius. More likely, you will go to the realm of the dead in which you were raised to believe, unless a more complex, strongly
held belief has replaced it. Souls gravitate toward the familiar after death. Some still cross the Styx to my realm, yes. Very few these days."

"I don't get why there are so many places to go. Wouldn't one afterlife be enough? And what happens when you stop getting customers?" Ti

slid up onto the stool next to Hades, absurdly pleased that their thighs brushed together.

Hades glanced up at Charon with one silver eyebrow cocked. The expression clearly said,

Want to take this? I'm trying to eat here.

With a little shrug, Charon pushed off the wall and took over while he put away groceries. "It's a strange symbiotic relationship, this god and

man thing. Gods depend on belief for continued existence, humans provide. Humans need to believe, so the gods oblige. While the gods didn't
create humans--"

"No? Well, there goes a whole branch of pseudo-science down the drain."
Charon chuckled as he snipped the plastic ties off an orange octopus squeaky toy for Nike who snatched the freed toy from his hand with

unholy glee. "No. Gods and humans seem to have become aware of each other at around the same time in the Earth's history. Gods found niches,
worshippers, ways to divide the world. The powerful ones evolved and grew in power, gathering reality to them, if you will, until they were more than
the sum of their worshippers' prayers."

"You make it sound willful, Char," Hades muttered around a blueberry.
"Partly it was. Don't deny it, my lord."
"Okay, so what about the ones who didn't, um, evolve?" Ti snagged a blueberry from under Hades's watchful eye. The big guy didn't growl, so

he figured it was cool.

"There were some who couldn't gather enough belief to sustain them, or couldn't sustain the belief they had gained. As humans forgot them

and no longer spoke or wrote of them, they faded and in some cases, have ceased."

"Gods can die by...pining away?" Ti edged closer to Hades as if he could stave off such a terrible thing.
"In a manner of speaking," Charon said on a little sigh. "They fade from existence. Gods can fade from the loss of belief--a slow, terrible thing.

Or they can fade away due to heartbreak." Charon shot Ti a dark look as he put cans of fancy puppy food in the fridge but the warning in his eyes
was gone when he turned back around. "Or they can fade quickly and painfully if they wander into another pantheon's realms."

"So Hades can't go visit Osiris? Why not? It would be so cool to have a god convention or a lord of the dead convention or something."
"Especially the lords of the dead. Though I suppose they could have a convention here in the human realm."
Hades finished his last bit of lunch and turned to face them both, his head propped against his fist. "We are more closely knit into human belief

than any other sort of god. Death is the great mystery. That which humans have feared and anticipated since they became aware of their mortality.
So much energy and so much of human behavior concentrates on how your actions will affect your fate when you die. Because of this outpouring of
belief, the realms of the dead are sharply defined and their energies are incompatible. This body, this collection of energy that I am, would not
survive Osiris's realm and he would not survive mine."

Wow. I don't think I've ever heard that many words together from him. "What if someone doesn't believe in any one of you? Where do they

go?"

Hades took his hand and kissed his fingers, the tender gesture causing a pool of warm light to spread through Ti's midsection. "I don't know.

Just as souls do not remain with the lords of the dead for eternity. They leave us. All of them, eventually. We cannot tell you where they go."

Ti slid off the stool so he could give Hades something to lean against. His color was still off and his eyes had started to droop. "You know, I

always thought the universe was a weird place. Never realized before just how weird."

Nike chose that moment to find the squeaker on her toy, which she chomped down on to produce several successively more tortured squeals.
"Kid." Charon shook his head as he offered the puppy a quieter toy. "You don't know the half of it."

* * * *

The afternoon light in Tiberius's russet hair gave it a fox pelt gleam. Hades stood in the kitchen with his tea, simply watching the sun spark and

dance while Ti bent his head over a small stack of paper he had begged from Charon, his long fingers clutched around a pencil.

It was evident that the world had dropped away for him. He hadn't lifted his head from his sketching when Hades had walked by. Even sitting

still, nervous energy radiated from him, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth, his fingers flipping the pencil from tip to eraser and back as
he shook his head, changed his mind, redrew and went through the whole cycle again.

Hades wandered over, soundless in bare feet, and eased into his chair, completely content to watch. All of Ti's insecurity and clumsiness fell

away when he drew. Even when he was twitching and fumbling, he was beautiful. Now...now he was glorious.

Leaning over to get a better look, he spoiled the moment. Ti twitched sideways, his dark eyes blinking rapidly in surprise as he came back to

his surroundings.

"Oh, hey. How're you feeling?"
"Steadier." He leaned closer, tilting his head to try to catch a glimpse. "What do you labor so hard over?"
Ti flushed that shade of rose Hades found so endearing. "Um, I'm just messing around with some stuff."
"What does this messing around entail?"
"Geez. From you, that sounds like an innuendo." Ti snickered and ducked his head, but he laid some of his sketches out for Hades to see. "It's

been kinda eating at me. The idea of a god comic, right? So this is what I started with."

Four pages full of sketches showed different versions of Cerberus, some true to life, some...
"He doesn't have spikes on his tail."
"Yeah, no...I know. I mean..." Ti got up on his knees to lean in close, pointing to one sketch and then another. "See, this one's more naturalistic.

What I actually saw. And this one's more Marvel-style comic, while the one with the tail spikes is a more of a Manga style one."

"Manga?"
"Japanese comics. There are lots of different kinds. They have a different feel to them, a different energy."
Hades ran a finger along the edge of Ti's ear, pleased at the little shiver he caused. "This makes you light from within, this subject."
Ti's next twitch was an uncomfortable shrug. "It's what I do...did. Everything I was." He leaned against Hades's knee to look up at him, his smile

not quite reaching his eyes. "Geeky kid. Never good at sports. Got beat up a lot. Had to have something to hide in. So I drew. A lot. Mom and Dad
coaxed me into thinking about it as a career."

"You enjoyed it."
"I freaking loved it," Ti whispered.
Hades stroked his hair. "You'll do this again."
"No one will hire me. No job, no references, no degree." Ti curled his hands into fists. "Half the time, my hands shake too much from jonesing

so bad."

"Jonesing?"
"I want a drink. If I distract myself, if I'm busy, it's not so bad. If I let myself think...it eats at me. Makes everything itch and ache."
"Tiberius, look at me." Hades waited until his lover's face tilted up toward his, and then he took Ti's chin in his hand. "You will get better. The

longer you are without the poison, the further you recover. You will return to your art. There is always a way."

He tugged at Ti until he knelt between his thighs so he could hold that slender body tight.
Ti's voice came muffled and shaking from where his head was buried on Hades shoulder. "You never said if you liked them or not."
"They are from your hands. Your soul. They are beautiful."

Chapter 7: Jealousy And Other Oddities

"It's not hacking, what I do." A little grin twitched at Hermes's lips as his fingers jumped and danced over the keys. "It's cracking. I have hackers

on my staff, computer gurus who can construct a system from the resistors up, who solve problems, and invent new ones. I just wriggle in where I
don't belong, just because I can."

Ti sat perhaps a bit too close, his eyes watching a bit too avidly. Hades fought the clenching muscles in his jaw and lost miserably.

Damn it,

the boy's not yours. He's not promised you anything.

Yet to see him so comfortable with Hermes, someone his own emotional age, to hear him laugh at the things he said, these things stabbed at

him and left him at a loss. If he snarled and warned his nephew off, he would look like a beast. If he stalked out, he would seem childish. So he
stood by the balcony doors and kept his gaze firmly locked on the river below.

"Wow. Police department databases are really boring," Ti said as he read over Hermes's shoulder.
"Oh, sure. Most collections of huge amounts of info are. It's getting out those few, juicy sexy bits that's the fun part."
Hades squeezed his eyes shut. His nephew was flirting, the shameless rake. Like most of the male Olympians, Hermes had never preferred

one gender to the other. Beauty is beauty, he had said once in his uncle's hearing, and the different plumbing only added a delightful variety. A
terrible sound grated against Hades's ears. It took a moment but he finally identified the noise as his teeth grinding together.

"I found the file, Uncle," Hermes called out, his attention thankfully pulled away from Ti. "Do you want me to print it out for you?"
"Perhaps in a moment." Hades cleared his throat, trying to modulate the snarl, but Hermes had heard it. He paled and moved a few inches

away from Ti.

Damn it, boy, I'd never hurt you.

With a heavy exhale, Hades turned from the window and stalked over to throw himself into his chair. A notebook and Ti's pencil sat on the

coffee table. Convenient. He opened it and leafed past a number of sketches, truly well crafted sketches of the room, of Nike, of the world outside.
More of Ti's beautiful work, art that should have been in a gallery rather than on lined paper. Rather than risk disturbing the sketches, he flipped to
the back of the notebook to write.

"Tell me what it says."
Hermes shot him what he interpreted as an apologetic grin. "Your victim was one David Baumberger. Lists a Montchanin address as his

residence. Swanky. Survived by a wife, Julie. No kids. Time of death...looks like they couldn't pin it down too well. Anywhere from twenty-four to
forty-eight hours prior to his body showing up. Arsenic. How old-fashioned. Wife was questioned but it seems she was out of town the week he
died. Doesn't mention whether she was upset or not."

"Does it mention anyone else who might have been of interest?"
"There is a business partner. The police were definitely interested in him. But there doesn't seem to be anyone who would've wished him harm.

No one obvious, anyway. His wife inherited everything. Not like the business partner gained from his death." Hermes shrugged. "They seem to have
gone up a number of blind alleys and found nothing."

"You think they just gave up?" A bit of outrage lurked in Ti's voice.
"I believe they did what they could with the information they had," Hades murmured as he pushed the puzzle pieces about in his mind. "They

are only human, after all."

"Hey!"
Hermes patted Ti's shoulder and Hades fought not to bristle. "He doesn't mean it in a bad way. But there's stuff humans just can't do."
"Yeah. Been there. Done that. No T-shirt required," Ti grumbled.
What in the world does that mean? Hades rose and pointed toward the library. "Come print this file for me."
It was uncharitable of him and ungrateful, his anger. Hermes had come to help, had rushed over to help, but now Hades wanted him out of

range. Somewhere Ti couldn't see him. Too many smiles had been exchanged between them. Bad enough that Hermes was so handsome and so
good at putting people at ease. It distressed him no end that his nephew could make Ti laugh.

When the printer finished, he did manage a gruff "thank you" for Hermes.
Hermes gave him an odd, sympathetic look. "Any time, Uncle. You know that."
Then he ruined the warm feeling by waving Ti over to him to walk him out. Hades could only watch, unwilling to make a complete fool of himself,

while Hermes murmured softly to Ti at the door and smoothed a stray lock of that thick russet hair back from Ti's forehead. A cold stone settled in
his stomach as Ti ducked his head and murmured something back. He turned away and stalked to his desk in the library to seethe over the case
notes. He wished Charon were here so he could have someone who could interpret the little cues people fed each other, but Char was out walking
Nike.

He was aware of Ti standing in the doorway long before he spoke. "Problem?"
"No."
"Something's wrong."
"No."
"Don't be like this. Please. You look like you tried chewing on an aspirin or something. What's bugging you?"
"Nothing!" Hades snapped and sat back with a huff. He glanced at Ti, just to be certain his bellow hadn't driven him away. No, still there. "I..."
"It was the whole Hermes thing, wasn't it? You didn't like him touching me."
"Yes. No." Hades ran both hands back through his hair in frustration. "What did he

say to you?"

"At the door?" Ti took a few steps into the room, his voice soft and gentle. "Not that a private conversation is any of your business, but he said

he'd love to steal me away from you..."

Hades tried to stop the growl. He nearly succeeded.
"But I remind him too much of someone he lost. Krokos, he said the boy's name was."
"Oh." Shame flooded through him. Poor Hermes. He had loved Krokos to distraction and had killed him by accident with a wild discus throw.

"I'm such a fool."

"No, you're not." Ti came to him and stroked a hand up his arm. Strange how these little outward displays of affection came so easily with him.

He had never been able to with anyone else. "You had a little jealous moment. Happens to everybody. And I don't mind you feeling a little
possessive."

"No?"
"Just don't go crazy with it, okay?"
Hades caught the hand on his arm and pressed it to his lips. "I'll try my best. Should I apologize?"
"To me? Nah. Don't need to. To Hermes?" Ti leaned in to kiss his temple. "I think he understands."
Hades stood slowly, afraid of startling his sometimes-skittish lover. He wrapped his arms around Ti and pulled him close, desperate for his

warmth. Ti was tall enough that his shoulder provided a convenient spot to rest his head. It felt so right, he let go of his remaining anger with a
shuddering breath. Yes, Ti was too thin. It worried him but didn't make Ti any less beautiful. Hades breathed him in, nuzzling at his throat,
inordinately pleased with the erotic moan he received when he sucked on Ti's earlobe.

"I guess you're feeling better today," Ti whispered, his increased weight in Hades's arms indicating a certain loss of balance.
"Oh, yes." Hades tightened his hold, his cock reacting enthusiastically to having Ti pressed up to him groin to groin. "Bedroom."
"Hell, yeah. Is, um, Char out for a bit with the baby?"
Hades pulled back so he could take Ti by the hand and lead him down the hall. "Yes. He seems to enjoy talking with the older women and their

dogs."

"That's so...bizarre. Him being popular with the blue-haired set."
Hades shut the bedroom door before he tugged Ti's shirt off over his head. "Not so strange. Charon is quite charming. He's good with humans,

once they look past his appearance."

Ti's fingers shook as he undid Hades's shirt buttons. He hoped it was excitement and not the other sort of shakes Ti sometimes suffered.
"I still think it's funny."
"Mmm." Hades had no coherent response as Ti bent his head and took a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. He held the back of Ti's head,

keeping him in place, encouraging the knee-buckling attention.

He let Ti undress him, shrugging out of the shirt, and stepping out of his jeans as buttons and zippers were dealt with. When they both stood in

nothing but their boxers, he pulled Ti close for a searing kiss, plundering Ti's mouth and greedily drinking in every gasp and soft, excited moan. He
reached down and grasped under Ti's lovely ass to lift him. Ti quickly caught on, helping them balance by wrapping his legs around Hades's waist
and his arms around his neck.

They fell together on the bed, Hades careful to keep Ti on top. Someday, he was certain Ti would be stronger, but until then, he feared crushing

him.

"Stay there a sec," Ti whispered as he untangled his limbs and crawled down Hades's body. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of

Hades's black boxers and carefully lifted the elastic over his groin. "Oh, man. That's just gorgeous."

Hands behind his head so he wouldn't interfere with whatever Ti had planned, Hades bit his lip on a soft cry as Ti bent his head to nuzzle at the

nest of hair surrounding his erection. Breath held as Ti nuzzled at his base, he gave up silence on a growling moan as his human lover licked up his
shaft.

"Tiberius..." He tangled his fingers in Ti's hair and tugged, urging him to lift his head.
"Seriously?" Ti crawled back up his body, eyes sparkling. "Who turns down a blow job? I'm pretty good at it. Promise."
"Another time." Hades wrapped him close, nibbling at his collarbone. "I want you here this time. In my arms."
"Oh." A hard breath shuddered through Ti as he hid his face against Hades's neck. "That's so damn sweet."
Concerned that he had upset Ti somehow, Hades stopped his erotic assault, stroking Ti's hair and back until the shaking calmed. It didn't take

long. Soon, Ti moved his hips, grinding their cocks together in a slow, sensual slide. This was new for Hades, letting his lover lead, not controlling
every movement, every foray.

He liked it. With Ti, he could enjoy it, trust in his partner. Ti lifted his head, his eyes shut, his face glowing with ecstasy, and Hades's heart sped.

So beautiful. So alive.

Ti straddled him, changing the angle, giving himself room to fondle Hades's balls. Pleasure climbed up his spine, his body racing toward

completion. Unwilling to go alone, he fisted both their cocks, stroking hard. Ti gasped and clamped his lips onto Hades's, his kiss fierce and
bruising. The unexpected fire roared over Hades, his orgasm reaching that excruciating hanging moment faster than he ever recalled. He had to
wrench his mouth away to breathe, gasping and moaning Ti's name as he came hard, coating his fist, their joined cocks, and both their stomachs,
Ti's cum mingling with his.

With a whispered expletive, Ti collapsed against his chest, breathing in gulping, desperate gasps. "Oh...fuck."
Hades stroked his back gently with his clean hand. "I believe we did."
"Ha! You made a funny." Ti lifted his head, his eyes still glazed from his climax. His grin slowly faded as he stroked Hades hair. "Why don't you

ever laugh? Or do you, and it's just me?"

"No. I suppose I don't anymore." He guided Ti's head to his shoulder, trying to gather words to explain. "There's a certain...hysterical quality to

laughter. I don't like the feeling."

"It's good for you." Ti poked his chest. "You need to let go sometimes."
"I can't. I need...peace these days. In my own soul. There's a certain beauty to melancholy that's required for peace. That's why I like this city. It

has that exquisite sadness in its veins."

"Oh." Ti was quiet for a long moment. "You've been this way a long time, haven't you? Not just since the divorce."
"Yes. Since I was young."

Since the Titanomachy, since my brothers turned their backs on me, since my mother refused to speak to me

again...

Ti snuggled closer, the smile still in his voice as he said. "It's okay. It's just how you are."
He settled Ti beside him, completely content to drift in and out of a nap while Ti fell fast asleep.

* * * *

The house was impressive by human standards, though Hades found something oddly impersonal in its construction. The owners obviously

had not helped to design it nor had even lent their imagination in its conception. They had simply decreed, "build me something large," and it was
done.

He drove the quite visible Viper up a curving drive lined on either side by nondescript, carefully manicured evergreen shrubs, questioning his

decision to come alone. Ti had been sleeping so peacefully and Charon had been occupied with some minor disaster at his funeral home. He
could have waited until the next day, but there was a risk that Mrs. Baumberger would not agree to another appointment if he canceled this one.

While she could not have murdered her husband, at least not in any reliable fashion while out of town, he still felt it vital to speak with her.

Something was discordant in her story, something the police had missed. He parked near the front door and straightened his leather coat as he got
out. It was new, Italian leather, his original coat having been ruined by bullets, blood, and a precipitous slide across concrete.

A large dog barked somewhere at the back of the house when he rang the bell. He almost expected a servant to answer the door but

apparently only humans in the most rarified strata still engaged in such things. Mrs. Baumberger herself opened the door, a haughty, straight figure

apparently only humans in the most rarified strata still engaged in such things. Mrs. Baumberger herself opened the door, a haughty, straight figure
in expensive jeans and a highly starched, button-down cotton shirt. Her eyes widened just a fraction when she caught sight of him but she otherwise
kept her mask firmly in place over her surprise.

"Mrs. Baumberger? I'm Aiden Plouton. I called this morning."
"Yes, of course. Come in, Mr. Plouton." She turned her back on him as she spoke, striding toward the back of the house, and leaving him to

shut the door. "I have to say, I'm a bit taken back by all this. I don't understand what business a private investigator has poking around poor David's
death. The official investigation is, I believe, considered a cold case."

"Yes. So I hear." Hades trailed after her, bemused by her high-handed rudeness. "I've been hired by an acquaintance of David's to look into his

death." Not entirely false, Ti and the murdered homeless men had met David's body once. "There is some feeling that the police weren't thorough
enough."

"An acquaintance? That makes no sense." She had reached the kitchen and was reaching for a doorknob. The door shook as a huge canine

flung itself against the wood. "Who would this person be?"

"Client privilege, madam. I'm not at liberty to say."
"Of course you're not." She turned a smile on him, calculating and unpleasant. Then she opened the door.
A bullmastiff in full cry hurtled through the doorway, rushing straight at Hades. He could understand how most men would have been frightened.

This dog was made for taking down creatures much larger than it was. Instead of running, which would have been a mistake in any case, he
crouched down and reached a hand out to the frothing, belling monster of a dog.

"That's enough now," he said softly. "Sit down, please."
The mastiff skidded to a stop, whining and pacing a few feet from him. Then it cocked its head, wagged its tail, and trotted to him to sniff his

palm before it obligingly sat.

"How did you do that?" Mrs. Baumberger snapped. "Who are you?"
"Just a private investigator, madam. If you've finished trying to frighten me off your property or possibly inflict bodily harm, I would appreciate it

if you could answer a few questions."

She folded her arms across her chest, her entire posture defensive and guarded. "Ask away. I'll decide if I want to answer."
"Thank you. What would you say was your husband's relationship to his business partner, Mr. Caldwell?"
"Relationship? I'm not sure what you mean to imply, Mr. Plouton. They ran a company together."
"So I understand. Were they close? Had mutual friends?"
She shrugged. "David and Hank sometimes played golf on the weekends. They spent a lot of time together during the week. They were

certainly friendly."

"But he was not in the circle David would have considered friends?"
"I don't know. David and I had different set of friends. I really don't see what this has to do with anything."
"Do you still have contact with Mr. Caldwell?"
"No, why would I?" she snapped. "I think you should go, Mr. Plouton. I don't like the direction your questions are taking. If you won't go like a

gentleman, I'll call the police."

He petted her dog's head just to make her seethe. "I'll take my leave then, madam. I do thank you for your time."
As he drove away, he puzzled over her behavior. No, she was not the one who had killed the homeless men. Her soul was angry, sharp, and

possibly capable of murder, but the scent and the feel had been different. She had been lying, though. Especially in her answer to his last question,
and that was enough to pique his interest.

* * * *

Ti was up and playing with Nike when the big guy came home. He looked... distracted was probably the best word. While the quality of frown

was thoughtful rather than angry, he seemed distressed as he hung up his coat and toed off his shoes.

He came into the living room and collapsed in his chair, still too deep in thought to greet anyone. Nike galloped up to him and put her front

paws up on his leg. Only then did he blink and react to the world around him, reaching out to ruffle her ears.

"Bad day at the office, hon?"
"Office?"
"Never mind. Looks like you had a hard time out there." Ti perched on the chair arm and let Hades lean against him.
"I went to question Mrs. Baumberger and the partner, Mr. Caldwell."
"Yeah? Learn something interesting?"
"Mrs. Baumberger is a terrible woman and Mr. Caldwell wasn't in." Hades looked up at him, blue eyes full of concern and frustration. "I'm

certain who did these things now and perhaps even why. But I have no way to prove it."

Looked like super-god powers had just run smack into the justice system. "Early days, yet. I'm sure you'll find something."
Hades nodded and retreated into his thoughts.

Chapter 8: An Avalanche Of Mistakes

"Char? I think the baby needs to go out," Ti called from the living room.
Nike was doing what could only be described as a pee dance near the front door. Hades was due home soon from a second attempt to speak

to Caldwell and Charon was in his bedroom, not quite yelling at someone on the phone but clearly annoyed.

"Guess it's you and me, little girl." Ti blew out a breath. He'd never walked a dog before, but it couldn't be that hard. He put Nike's harness and

leash on her, grabbed the bag with the scoop, paper bags and gloves that Charon kept in the front closet, and shrugged into his coat.

The gray November sky promised snow or freezing rain. A hat would probably have been a good idea but he didn't have one.

Oh, well. We

won't be long.

On the elevator ride down, an older lady and her Maltese got on at the third floor.
"Oh, hello there. Hello, Nike." She looked up at Ti. "Where's Karl?"
"He was busy on the phone. Sounded kinda complicated and Ms. Nike said she couldn't wait for him." Ti tried a smile, hoping it looked

comfortable. He still felt strangely guilty for living there and kept expecting someone to show up and tell him bums weren't allowed.

"That's very nice of you. Are you a friend?"
"I'm staying with Karl and Aiden for a bit."
The pups were on the floor, sniffing at each other enthusiastically.
"Oh!" The old lady's hand went to her cheek. "Your Aiden's young man. I'm Ms. Chalfont. It's nice to finally meet you."
Aiden's young man? He wasn't sure if he was amused or pissed off. Amused was better, so he settled on that. "Yes, ma'am. I'm Ti. Nice to

meet you, too. Karl tells me about all the nice ladies and dogs he meets on his walks."

She giggled, actually giggled. "Oh, Karl. He's quite a character."
The elevator doors opened and the dogs pulled them out through the lobby, into the biting November wind.
"He is a character," Ti agreed. "Quite a quirky sense of humor."
Ms. Chalfont nodded. "He does entertain us. Not that Aiden isn't a nice man," she added hurriedly. "He seems very strong and capable. But he

never says much beyond polite greetings."

"Yeah. That's him," Ti said on a little laugh. "He does talk more when you know him better. It just takes awhile. Talk to him about dogs. He

knows his dogs."

"I'll remember that."
They walked along the path by the river, the wind singing mournfully in the trees. "Are you in love with him?"
Ti stopped to let Nike sniff at an exposed root. "That's a really personal question, Ms. Chalfont."
"I know. I'm old, so I'm allowed to ask things like that."
Nike moved on, nose still to the ground sniffing up a storm. Ti walked a few steps with her in silence, chewing on his bottom lip. "Yeah. I am."

Strange that he hadn't realized it until someone asked. "I've fallen in love with him."

"Good," she said with a solid nod. "I think he needs someone kind." She broke off with a little shudder. "I'm so glad you came walking with us.

Sometimes it's a little distressing being out here all alone."

"Why would you say that?"
Ms. Chalfont pointed with her chin across the river and up the sharp rise on the other side. "I don't like the way that man is watching us."

* * * *

"Ti? Ti!" Hades stuck his head in the doorway to Ti's bedroom. A terrible feeling had latched onto his spine. When Ti hadn't come to greet him

on his return, the dread crawled up to the base of his skull. "Charon!"

Charon's head popped out of his bedroom, phone held out from his ear. "Yes, my lord?"
"Where in all of creation is Ti?"
"He was... Isn't he here?"
"No," Hades snarled in exasperation. He searched the condo further. Ti's shoes and jacket were missing as well as Nike's harness and leash.

"Did you let him go out to walk Nike?"

"I heard him say something, my lord, but I apologize. I was preoccupied."
"Great Mother. I have to find him."
"My lord?"
Hades stormed out of the condo as if the Erinyes whips pursued him. Mother help him if he was too late.

* * * *

"Yeah, he is kinda creepy." Ti squinted into the dim, rain-misted distance. Fear prickled along his scalp. "Let's turn back toward the building. I

think the pups are just about finished, anyway."

"Do you think we should call the police?"
"And tell them what, ma'am? There's someone standing on the opposite bank that we don't like?"
"Oh, yes. Of course. That would sound rather silly."
He switched sides with Ms. Chalfont, putting himself between her and the river, while he kept an eye on the figure on the far bank. He must

have come down the slope from Mill Road since he stood next to the odd, three-story office building of green glass that hovered cantilevered above
the water. Charon called the building the Falling Water Wannabe.

The man wore a dark trench coat and stood with his hands at his sides. Ti wondered if it was his imagination, but he thought he spotted a long

object held in the man's right hand. Fear ratcheted up to a sense of doom. He was sure this was it. Hell if he was going to let someone else get hurt
instead of him this time, though.

"Ms. Chalfont, can you run?"
"Yes. I have my sneaks on."
"Good. When I say go, please take the dogs and run for the building. Don't look back. Don't stop until you're inside telling the security men

about this. Can you do that for me?"

"But where will you be?"
"Right behind you."

I hope. "Ready?"

Her hand shook as she took Nike's leash from him but she nodded.
"All right. One...two...go!"

* * * *

"My lord, what's happened?" Charon asked as they raced down the fire stairs. The elevator was too slow. They would never be in time

otherwise.

"Ti is in peril. He should not be out there."
"It's safe here. Talk to me, my lord, please!"
"I should never have given that woman my human-world name," Hades growled as he leaped over a banister to skip an entire flight of steps.

"She has found our home. I went to Caldwell's house. He wasn't there but I went inside. His soul scent was everywhere. The murderer's soul scent.
There was a message on his machine from her. It told him to come here and watch. That I might need to be taken care of. And now Ti is out there."

"Holy rivers...and he would know by now he killed the wrong one. If I had known--"
Hades waved off the apology before it began. "No time. We simply have to reach him first."

* * * *

Ms. Chalfont ran surprisingly fast for a woman who had to be at least seventy. Twenty feet separated them as Ti stood on the bank, then fifty,

then a hundred. He turned to face the man across the river, determined to make himself the target so she could get away safely.

His legs shook. He was scared to death but he had to do this. Feet planted, arms crossed over his chest, he raised his chin and tried to strike

an attitude of defiance.

I see you. I know who you are.

The man raised his right arm, the gun in his hand clearly visible now. There was a chance that his aim wasn't that great, especially across such

a distance. Out of the corner of his eye, Ti saw Ms. Chalfont make the turn to run into the front lobby. She was safe.

He spun to his left and ran. The impact of the shot hitting his chest hurled him from his feet. His shoulder hit a tree and he slid to the leaf-strewn

ground. Strange how little pain there was and how little fear. He thought he heard Hades calling for him, but that was most likely a last wistful
hallucination from his lonely brain wanting to hear that beloved voice once more.

* * * *

"Tiberius!" Hades felt the shot through his own heart. He pointed across the river as he ran toward where Ti had collapsed. "Charon! Catch that

misbegotten whoreson!"

Don't die. Oh, my Tiberius, please don't die. He flung himself to his knees and gathered Ti close. From the moment Hades touched him, he

knew it was too late. One last breath rattled in his chest and then Ti died in his arms. His shade materialized beside them, staring down sadly at his
own body. He showed no fear, unlike so many of the newly dead. It was as if he had expected it.

"No, please. Tiberius, don't go. Stay with me. We can fix this," Hades pleaded desperately. Tears blurred his vision, but he still saw Ti's shade

shake his head.

He reached both arms out to Hades and mouthed, "I love you" before he faded from the mortal world.
"No! No, I won't accept this!" Hades heard his own bellow echoing off the riverbanks as his thoughts spun in furious circles.
Charon appeared at his side with a man, presumably Caldwell, thrown over his shoulder, trussed like a huntsman's catch. "Oh, no, my lord. I'm

so sorry."

"This cannot be. I will not allow it," he growled and pointed to the hole in Ti's chest. "Fix this. I don't care who does it or how. Make his body

whole again."

"It's...my lord, his spirit's flown. He's gone."
"Yes. I'm going to bring him back. No matter where he's gone. And I need his body whole when he returns."
"My lord, you can't! You won't--"
"Do

not presume to tell me what I cannot do!" Hades stalked away from Ti's body, measuring out the yards. Then he went down on one knee

and struck the ground with his fist. The earth shuddered. The ground moaned as it parted for him, revealing the way into the death realms. "I will find
him and convince him to come back."

Charon was still protesting as he descended. Yes, he knew the risks, but this was wrong. Ti had died because of

him, because of his errors.

He was a Lord of Death, and he would put this right.

* * * *

Ti's soul left a distinctive trail. He knew the resonance of that soul so well, he could have followed it into the cacophony of the Christians' Hell. Of

course, Ti hadn't been wicked. He had only made terrible mistakes. His soul went nowhere near Hell or Sheol.

The trail led through bright fields of clouds, the light so intense his eyes watered. He was drawing close, could sense Ti just ahead of him, when

a set of shining gates suddenly blocked his way. Ti's soul had chosen Heaven as his transitional realm. He had passed through but for Hades,
entrance was apparently forbidden. He stood panting, clinging to the cold metal, pain radiating from the center of his chest.

He raised a fist and banged on the gates, which sent a hollow boom echoing over the clouds. "Let me in! You have someone who can't be

here!"

The glow from the shining gates increased, blinding him, driving him back. A presence hovered before him. From the terrible light, he expected

the Archangel Michael with his flaming sword, but instead of commanding, martial tones, the voice that spoke was gentle and sympathetic. "Hades,
you mustn't stay here. You're already in agony. Why have you come to a place that can only mean death for you?"

Uriel stood before him, the Angel of Death, beautiful and radiant with his long, golden hair lifted in an unfelt wind.
Hades tightened his grip on the gate, willing his body to stay upright. He pulled in a deep breath and bellowed, "Tiberius! Ti, where are you?"
"He's just passed inside. He's at peace now. Why would you disturb him?"
"It's my doing...his death. He can't be here. He wouldn't be here if not for my actions. Please...please let me speak to him." Unable to keep his

feet any longer, Hades fell to his knees. The clouds were soft and yet they still caused him pain.

Oh, I don't want to die without seeing him.

"I can't allow--"
"Hades?" That voice was the one Hades needed so badly to hear. Ti's soul rushed to him, trying to envelop him in ethereal arms. "You told me

you couldn't do this. That you'd die."

"I came for you, Tiberius. You died before your time, because I was a fool and made terrible mistakes. You must go back. Charon's promised

to have your body healed. Please. Please go back."

Ti's soul stroked his face, a tender, soothing touch. "It's so peaceful here. And Mom and Dad are here. How can I just leave? I don't know if I

can find my way back. Oh, damn, I don't want you to hurt like this."

"Tiberius." Hades reached up to touch the center of Ti's being, to feel the warmth of that beautiful soul around him again. He felt as if his body

were disintegrating, becoming less substantial by the moment, but Ti's presence made the pain bearable. "I love you. If you won't return, I have no

reason to. I would rather let it end here, with you. I came to be with you. I can't go without you."

"No! No, he's fading--Uriel! Help me! Do something!"
Uriel's cool hand pressed to his forehead. "I can carry him back to the mortal realm but I can't take him against his will. He may not survive even

if I do."

"Then take me, too!" Ti's soul wailed.
"Tiberius, this just isn't done..."
"I don't care! Don't let him die! I'll be a ghost in his condo if I have to, just save him!"
Hades sank into the clouds. The brightness faded slowly, the pain receding. His last glimpse was of Ti's panicked spirit, trying desperately to

hold him together. He tried to speak some last words of comfort, and found himself no longer able. At the last, he had failed in life in every way that
was important.

* * * *

Ti woke to the familiar creak of leather under his back. He blinked against the soft light coming in through the balcony doors. Rain spattered

against the glass. He was in the condo.

Must've fallen asleep and had some crazy-ass, bad dreams.

He ached, though, right down to his bones, so something wasn't right. Maybe he was getting sick. Carefully, in case he was running a fever and

off balance, he pushed up and off the sofa. The condo was quiet as a tomb. He shuddered at the comparison, still trying to banish the nightmares of
dying and death.

"Hades? Char?"
No answer. They were probably out. No one had left him a note on the counter or on the fridge, though, which seemed odd. He wandered

toward the bedrooms, a sense of dread trailing him. Charon's room was empty, though he had finally left the novel he'd been working on face up.
Tom Holt's

Snow White and the Seven Samurai. He should have known.

Hades's room was empty as well, though a piece of paper lay on the black comforter. Curious, Ti approached the bed, circling it, not quite

certain he wanted to read what was on the paper that lay like bleached bone on a scorched battlefield. It was in Charon's elegant, spare
handwriting:

I'm so sorry, Ti. I couldn't stay here without him.
C.
"Without him?" Ti rubbed at his aching chest and encountered odd bumps. He pulled up his T-shirt and pulled in a shocked breath. A circular

scar lay in the center of his chest, directly over his heart. "Oh, God..."

He stumbled out of the bedroom with the note still clutched in his hand. Barely aware of moving his feet, he made it to the closet in the front hall

and pulled out his jacket--his now ruined jacket with the huge, bloodstained hole in the back.

"Shit, shit, shit." His legs gave out and he found himself on the floor, crumpled note in one hand, mangled jacket in the other. The dreams hadn't

been dreams. He'd been shot. He'd died. Hades had come after him, all the way into someone else's realm, and he'd started to...disintegrate. The
last thing he recalled was the archangel Uriel gathering Hades up and flying away with them both.

"It doesn't make any damn sense. If he's...where did he go? And why am I here with a heart that works?"
His heart didn't feel as if it would work for long. It was cracking, shattering as if it had been dipped in liquid nitrogen and dropped from ten

miles up. He was alive because Hades had come after him and begged him to come back, and now Hades was gone. Dead, whatever that meant
for gods.

"I didn't come back to be here without you," Ti whispered to the empty condo. "I don't want to be here without you."
He sat there on the floor, unable to recall how to move, not certain he wanted to. Light trickled across the floor as the day quietly expired to the

sound of rain against the glass punctuated by Ti's tortured sobs.

* * * *

"Ti?" A familiar voice disturbed his darkness. A gentle hand with long fingers shook him. "This isn't a good place to sleep."
Daylight spread across the hardwood, pale, weak sunbeams dappling the walls. Ti took a moment to realize he had fallen asleep in the hall,

finally cried out and exhausted. When he tried to move, he hissed in pain. He was so stiff that he might have been there for hours or days.

"I'm sorry I had to run out on you like that." Charon sat cross-legged beside him. "But there were things that couldn't wait."
"Like funeral arrangements? Will there be one?" Ti dry-scrubbed his face with both hands. "I don't know how these things work."
"Well, you did die, true. I suppose we could if you wanted one."
"How can you joke, Char? Not for me, for him."
"For him? Why would...oh, Ti." Charon gripped his wrist. "You poor boy. He's asking for you."
"He's what?" Ti's head spun. He thought the floor might be dropping away. "Where is he?"
"In his own realm. It was the only place where he stood a chance." Charon steadied him with both hands. "I'll take you. If you want to go. You'll

be safe."

"Damn you! Damn him!" Ti swiped angrily at the fresh tears. Hurt, confused, still too devastated to think straight, he struck Charon's chest with

his fist, trying to latch onto something that made sense. "Why would you do this to me?"

"Shh, shh, we're going. Hold on tight."
Charon didn't even get up. He simply clamped Ti in close and flashed them out of the condo into the black nowhere he went when he

teleported. Ti closed his eyes and clung to the front of Charon's shirt. What was one more disorienting trip through reality, after all? His brain had
short-circuited, his heart lay in pieces, what did one more thing matter?

But the Underworld was a realm of the dead. Could Hades be dead and be here? Or didn't it work that way for gods?
When the strange falling sensation stopped, Ti felt his feet on something solid. Cold seeped up through his socks since he hadn't bothered to

put on shoes. They had landed in a huge room, the dark ceiling lost in shadow, the floor gleaming black marble. Two thrones, one a heavy chunk of
carved obsidian, the other a delicate, ornately filigreed one of silver, occupied a raised dais at the far end. The throne room in Hades's palace. It
had to be.

Charon took his hand. "Come. This way."
Ti stumbled after him, shivering in the bleak corridors. Was it always like this, so chill and cheerless? They went up a broad set of stairs

flanked by beautifully carved griffin statues. Gold banisters lined the steps, inset with jeweled mosaics of fantastic creatures and flowers. At least on
the upper level, carpet runners lay over the cold marble and muted tapestries hung on the walls, though the colors were unrelievedly dark.

At the end of a long hallway, Charon stopped and pushed open an oak door the size of a monster truck. "He's in the bedroom. Please don't be

too harsh with him."

Ti nodded absently, his heart yearning to see Hades whether he was a ghost now or not.

You can still love a ghost, right? The sex just isn't as

good. He made his way through a sitting room with floor-to-ceiling bookcases and a big, comfortable chair by a fireplace, just made for brooding. A
door on the other side led to the next room, presumably the bedroom. He pushed the door open and his heart died yet another death.

Hades lay in a princely bed hung with black velvet curtains. He looked terrible, gray and drawn, his eyes half-closed. Beside him, stroking his

hair and crooning to him, sat the most beautiful woman Ti had ever seen. Thick, golden hair fell in waves to her waist. Wide, Caribbean blue eyes
flanked a perfect patrician nose. Even her hands were beautiful, graceful, perfect fingers, her pale skin without flaw or blemish.

Persephone.
She raised her head as if his thought had called her. Then she bent to whisper to Hades. He stirred and tried to reach a hand out, though he

couldn't raise his arm off the covers.

"Ti?"
Fighting the lump in his throat and the burning in his eyes, Ti managed a shaky whisper. "How many times are you planning on breaking my

heart this week? Okay. I get it. This is what you need. But if you think I'm willing to be your extra bit on the side, play your Ganymede for you, you can
just fuck off."

He turned to stalk out, trying his best to ignore the incoherent sound of pain from the bed. He'd almost made it to the door, too, before light

footsteps came up behind him.

"Tiberius Snyder." Persephone's voice was sweet and light, so her next words were a surprise. "If you walk out on him, I will beat you so hard

your great-grandchildren will feel it."

He twisted around in shock, coming face-to-face with a determined and pissed off goddess. Yes, well, he was angry, too. He wanted to say too

many things, so he managed an eloquent, "What?"

"You heard me. He's barely back in one piece and you do this to him?"
Ti held up both hands. "Look, it's really nice that you took him back. I wish you all the best. But I can't be a third wheel here. I'm just not wired

that way."

Her expression softened. "I haven't taken him back."
"You... then what was all that... in there?" He gestured helplessly toward the bedroom.
Her blonde hair bounced fetchingly as she shook her head. "Ti, I asked for a divorce because I need my own life. I've never loved him the way

he should be loved, but I don't hate him. He's always been kind to me. Uriel brought him home because this is the only place he had a chance, the
only place where he could heal. Of course I've been taking care of him. I've had centuries of practice."

"Oh. So, you're not..."
"We're not. He's asked for you, pined for you, from the moment he could think again. You're angry with him. I can see that. But please go talk to

him."

"I...oh, fuck." Ti closed his eyes, trying to get hold of himself. She patted his shoulder and gave him a gentle shove toward the bedroom.
The dark green coverlet over Hades's chest rose and fell in uneven, jerky intervals. Ti wondered belatedly if he was out of danger, or if he might

still cease, as Charon had put it. Ti settled in the chair Persephone had vacated, his hand fluttering over Hades before he let it settle on his
shoulder.

"Hey, hey, slow it down. One deep breath at a time."
"Ti?"
"Yeah, Ti. I'm here. Stop fighting so hard. Relax."
"You're here," Hades whispered, his voice a spare, raw ruin. "Are you well?"
"I'm in one piece. Now let me talk. We'll get to explanations, maybe, if you're up to it, in a bit. But just shut up for now."
Hades looked a bit stunned, but he didn't try to speak again, though that may have been because he'd run out of breath.
"I was dead."
Hades nodded.
"I was really dead, and for the first time I can recall, there was no pain, no fear, no guilt. All right, there was the pain of losing you. That hurt. But I

figured you'd mourn and move on. My

parents were there waiting for me, for fuck's sake. I was so happy to see them again. But you couldn't just

mourn, could you? You're a freaking death lord, so you had to come

after me, even though you knew it could kill you."

"Ti--"
"Hush. I'm not done. Do you have any idea how awful that was? To have you tell me you love me and then watch you come apart in my arms?

Do you even have a clue how much I love you, you selfish, arrogant bastard?"

Hades opened his mouth and immediately closed it again.
"And then...

then, here's the icing on the fucking cake. I wake up alone with the body I have to assume one of your relatives put back together,

but

alone, no note, no phone call, nothing, and have to go through the agony of losing you all over again."

"I'm so sorry, Tiberius," Hades managed to get in since now Ti had run out of breath. "I didn't wake until an hour ago."
"Oh. Um, well, maybe that last part isn't all your fault." Ti swiped at his eyes again, wondering if the waterworks would ever stop. "Shit. It's just,

you know, dragging a man from his final peace and then...you scared the hell out of me."

"I couldn't...Ti, I do love you. Lie down with me. Please."
It was an invitation he found hard to refuse, no matter how angry he was. He crawled in under the covers and nestled close. Disturbed at the ice

cold of Hades's skin, he tried to wrap as much of himself around that broad, powerful body as he could.

He loves me. Holy fuck, he loves me.

In short, broken sentences, Hades explained about Caldwell, the man who had shot Ti. The business partner and Julie Baumberger had been

lovers. He suspected she had planned everything, but Caldwell was her stooge and did her bidding, killing her husband while she was away and
hunting down the probable witnesses afterward. A big man, he would have had no trouble overpowering Benny and he had proved himself a good
enough shot to have killed using either rifle or handgun.

Hades blamed himself for Ti's death, since the murderers would never have found him if he hadn't given Mrs. Baumberger his human name. He

suspected Caldwell was watching for him, since he was getting too close to the truth, but Ti had shown himself instead, and Caldwell took the
opportunity to take out his last witness. From what Charon had reported, Caldwell was now in police custody, accusing his lover, but David
Baumberger's widow would most likely never be charged. All the physical evidence pointed to Caldwell and several people had witnessed him
shoot Ti.

"So you blamed yourself and that's why you nearly killed yourself?"
"Yes." Hades heaved a slow, hitching breath, hiding his face against Ti's shoulder. "It was my interference. My doing. Not your time."
"I'm still pissed at you."

"Yes."
"Why didn't the cops take my body away?"
"Charon...removed you. Placed you in a pocket of null time so your cells would not begin to decay."
Null time? "What did he tell the police?"
"That the bullet had hit the metal lighter in your pocket. That you were shaken and too frightened to speak with them."
"Oh, great. Um...I don't have a lighter."
"Apparently, one was produced."
"Charon's a sneaky bastard. Sheesh. They could use him at the NSA or something. And I still don't know who patched me up."
"Apollo."
"Doesn't he hate you or something? You have to tell me what that's all about someday."
"Dio and Hermes persuaded him. Or Hestia. It's a little unclear."
"Ah. The family ganged up on him. Nice to know they have your back. And you so need to make this up to me."
"When I've recovered."
"Hey, I know. I'm not heartless. And where's Nike?"
"Playing with Cerberus."
"

What?"

"Don't shout in my ear, love. He likes her."
"Oh." Ti thought for a minute, stroking Hades back in soothing circles. "How long do you have to stay down here? And am I okay being down

here?"

"You're safe. Please stay in the palace, though. I should be well in a few days."
"Good. That's good. I can only keep you warm for so long, you know. After a couple days, I'll turn into an ice cube."
"No, you won't."
An odd wheezing sound, like a broken squeezebox, came from Hades's chest. Ti lifted his head in alarm, but the Lord of the Underworld was

smiling.

Smiling?

"I almost hate to ask, but was that a laugh?" Ti regretted the question as soon as he asked, since the smile vanished.
"Perhaps. You as an ice cube...was amusing."
"Huh. That might have been the most anemic excuse for a laugh. Ever. But I'll take it." He leaned in to place a soft kiss on Hades's lips. "You

need to come back here sometimes, don't you? Or you'll get sick and stuff?"

"True."
"So how's this supposed to work? With the divorce and the new boyfriend and all that?"
"Boyfriend," Hades murmured. "I like that."
"Focus here."
"Persephone will have the winter and fall months here. I will have the spring and summer. We also agree that emergencies must be

accommodated."

"You expect me to live in a big honking cave for six months out of the year?"
"Only if you wish. You could wait for me at the condo."
"Not on your life. I'm not letting you out of my sight for that long. Who knows what trouble you'd get into?"
Hades managed to lift a hand to cup Ti's cheek, already a big improvement. "Am I forgiven, then?"
"I'll think about it. Maybe for a year or two. Now go to sleep."
It was a little weird if he thought about it too much. Having a being who had commanded supernatural armies and had ruled the dead for

centuries, the God of the Underworld, snuggle up to you with a contented sigh was beyond Twilight Zone. But Ti didn't want to think right then. He
wanted to hold his love and marvel at the little smile on his handsome face as he drifted off to sleep.

Epilogue

The once drab and often deserted interior of the train station bristled with busy commuters. Ti made his way carefully through the crowd toward

the exit, protecting the portfolio slung over his shoulder. A few years back, the gorgeous old Frank Furness designed building had been restored
and then subsequently renamed for the vice president. No one called it that, it was always the Wilmington train station, but Joe had always come
through here when he commuted home from Washington as a senator. It was fitting.

Joe wasn't here today, though, evident in the conspicuous lack of secret service. That was fine with Ti since he was happy to be home but tired

as heck. More hubbub he didn't need. He tugged his coat closer in anticipation of the spring chill outside and grinned as he fingered the fine, soft
wool. The full-length topcoat had been Hades's early birthday present to him.

"If you attend contract meetings, you must look presentable," his lordship had said and then proceeded to buy him something ridiculously

expensive for his trip to Boston.

They had spent a comfortable winter in the condo, three males and a growing puppy, and during that time, Ti had started to put his Greek god

stories and drawings online as web comics. The owner of a small press in Boston had become addicted, so he said, and invited Ti up to talk about
a deal for publishing the comics as graphic novels. While Hades fretted about him going alone, Ti felt he had to. He wanted to be a real grownup
again, a responsible, independent person. He'd missed the hell out of his god-hero, but he'd done it and come back with a contract in hand with
more zeroes on it than any annual salary he'd ever made.

He was eager to be home, though. Both homes, since they would be commuting back and forth between the condo and the palace for the

spring and summer months. Tonight, Hades had promised to take him out for his birthday, somewhere nice like Harry's Savoy or Deep Blue, and
then they'd be going Underworld for the weekend.

Hurrying down the steps, intent on reaching the parking lot and a certain waiting Viper, Ti didn't have any attention to spare for anyone around

him. He startled when a voice spoke practically in his ear.

"Spare change, mister? I haven't eaten in days."
A lifetime ago, a different Ti would have pretended not to hear and would have hurried on. Now he knew how hard it was, how degrading and

desperate. He was turning to face the man, prepared to offer a meal, and stopped cold.

"Fleece."
Glazed gray eyes stared at him without recognition or comprehension. Then something kicked in and a nasty grin spread across Fleece's

face. "Ti-ti. Don't you look all fancy and shit. Find yourself a sugar daddy to fuck you? On your knees every night for those nice clothes and pricey
hooch?"

Ti's face grew hot. The truth wasn't all that far from Fleece's insulting digs. But it wasn't like that. It was an incredibly weird relationship, but

they'd both made sure Ti wasn't going to feel like a kept man.

Fleece apparently drew his own conclusions. "I've embarrassed poor Ti-ti." He gripped Ti's coat lapels in both fists. "I won't even drag you

back into the men's room and fuck you, how's that? But you're gonna hand me everything out of your wallet and that nice coat your meal ticket gave
you, for old time's sake."

The old fear coiled cobra vicious in his stomach, waiting for him to give in and let it take him down. Ti's legs started to shake. His head started

to fuzz. Then he glanced over Fleece's shoulder to the parking lot where a broad-shouldered figure had just gotten out of his red sports car and
leaned against the hood, arms crossed over his chest. Hades looked every inch the high-end PI in his mirror shades and trench coat. He cocked
his head to the side and nodded toward Fleece. Ti knew his guy well enough by now to interpret the gesture.

I'm here if you need me. But I believe

in you.

The fear cobra evaporated and Ti met Fleece's derisive gaze head on. "Oh, let me think about that. Hmm. No. How about that?" Ti yanked his

coat away from those filthy fingers and prepared to step around his former nemesis.

"You piece of shit," Fleece snarled. "Think you're too good now?"
A hard hand caught Ti's left arm. He turned into the grip, preparing to use one of the break holds Hades had taught him, and came around just

in time to see the fist flying at him. He threw up his right arm, blocking the punch more easily than he thought possible.

Amazing what a few months of good food and exercise will do.
He'd always thought of Fleece as scary strong, but he was perpetually drunk and getting sicker living on the streets. His place as the boogey

man of Ti's nightmares crumbled in that one clumsy, missed blow.

With a hard wrench against Fleece's thumb, Ti yanked his arm away and then gave Fleece a hard shove. Eyes wide, he stumbled backward

two steps, fetching up with a thud against the stone wall of the station.

"Enough!" Ti pointed a finger in warning. "You've taken all you're gonna take from me, hear me? You don't own any piece of me, you don't have

any hold over me, and I'm not fucking scared of you anymore, got it?"

Fleece just stared at him, dumbfounded. Ti waited to see if he had anything more to say, but the glazed, openmouthed look said it all. He

snorted, shook his head, and walked away.

It felt as if an iron net had been lifted off his body. He could stand straight again, walk freely again. Hell, he could fly if he wanted now.
Hades's shades reflected his huge grin as Ti reached him and walked into his waiting embrace.
"That was well done." Hades hugged him tight and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
"You taught me well, Obi-wan."
Hades set him back, the slightest hint of a smile teasing at his lips. "Joke."
"Yep." Ti laughed. "You're getting good at this."
"How did it go?" Hades walked him around the car with a hand on his back.
"Oh, man, these folks in Boston are completely nuts." Ti patted the portfolio bag. "I have a signed contract in here with more money on it than

I've ever dreamed a comic book could make."

"You do?" Hades slid his shades off and took him by the shoulders. "Not a joke?"
"You called it. No joke."
Ti let out a huff as he was whomped into a suffocating bear hug. It only lasted a second or two and then he could breathe again.
"I'm so very proud of you, Ti."
"Thank you." He gazed into those deep blue eyes and found the pride in them contagious. Yeah. That's what pride felt like. "Are we going right

to dinner?"

"We should if we're to keep our reservation."
"Everything quiet here? How did the court thing go?" Deposition, hearing, he couldn't keep those things straight. Ti had given his statement to

the police but hadn't been needed for this.

"Well enough. I still hold out hope that woman will be charged with murder. But at the moment, there is nothing one can do. Caldwell will stand

trial, however, for five murders and one attempted."

"I did die, so it should be six."
"Ti, please. That's not at all amusing."
"Wasn't joking," Ti grumbled.
Hades was quiet while he pulled the car out onto Front Street. "Would you like to stay for a long weekend this time? I could show you the

Fields."

"Can't, babe. I have an appointment on Monday." His Monday nooners with Judy, Charon called his therapist appointments. Between those

and the AA meetings, he thought he was getting a handle on the whole how to live with alcoholism thing.

"Ah. Of course. Does she want me there this time?"
"Nope, this one's just me. But next time she says to bring

the boyfriend. I think she's anxious to meet you. I've told her what a hot hunk of man

meat you are."

Hades shot him a sideways glance. "Joke."
"Yeah. Maybe." Ti snuggled into the ridiculously comfortable leather seat, already planning how to surprise the aforementioned hot boyfriend

with a Ducati for Christmas. "Got anything on your plate this week?"

"I have two new clients."
"Paying clients?"
"You know that's not important to me, but, yes. I'll tell you about the cases over dinner."
Ti snickered. "How romantic."
"Sarcasm. I'm sure of it."
"Damn, you're getting good at this!"
Hades wheezed his odd laugh and the warm spot around Ti's heart spread out a little farther. A riot of scarlet tulips greeted them as they turned

a corner, a cultivated outpouring of joy to match the wild flood inside him. The universe was strange and wonderful and he was glad he was still in it.

Angel Martinez

Angel Martinez is the erotic fiction pen name of a writer of several genres. Her experiences as a soldier, a nurse, a banker, and an underpaid

corporate drone give her a broad view of the world and a deep appreciation for the astounding variety of people on this small planet.

She currently lives part time in the hectic sprawl of northern Delaware and full time inside her head. She has one husband of over twenty years,

one son, two cats, a love of all things beautiful and a terrible addiction to the consumption of both knowledge and chocolate.

To learn more about Angel, please visit: http://www.freewebs.com/angelwrites/

* * * *

Don't miss A Different Breed, by Angel Martinez,

available at AmberAllure.com!

Josh hunts vampires with relentless, cold precision until the night he confronts a gorgeous hunk of vamp in the woods outside Ithaca.

Richard destroys all of Josh's prejudices about vampires in the first few moments of conversation, and the sexual sparks between them ignite
almost as quickly. Richard offers the stability Josh never had, while Josh offers the healing Richard needs so desperately.

But it's nearly impossible just to walk away from a life of violence. An attack one evening leaves a friend in the hospital, Richard with a

bullet through his chest, muttering about strange creatures, and Josh fighting to piece together what really happened. Are Richard's nightmare
attackers real, or is Josh's favorite vamp losing his mind? Is there a reasonable explanation or has the hunter now become prey?

Amber Quill Press, LLC

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Table of Contents

CANINES, CROSSHAIRS AND CORPSES
Prologue
Chapter 1: Beside A Different River
Chapter 2: Mortal Foundling
Chapter 3: A Lord Of The Dead
Chapter 4: Photos And Packages
Chapter 5: Nike
Chapter 6: Dreams And Spice Mills
Chapter 7: Jealousy And Other Oddities
Chapter 8: An Avalanche Of Mistakes
Epilogue

Angel Martinez

Amber Quill Press, LLC