If his words were a little sarcastic, then it was only because he was so tired of them. Cerberus wasn’t a terrifying creature. Who could fear a dog with three tongues lolling as he turned around?
Hades tilted his head to the side and grinned at his dog. Maybe he was a little scary. The middle head had gotten to the stick first and the other two were frantically gnawing on the ends. They’d eventually break it into three pieces and then all the heads would be happy.
He could understand why the mortals feared Cerberus.
But his wagging tail as he brought the stick back to Hades was one of the happiest things he’d seen all day. And he had gone to the Elysian Fields to chat with one of the famous heroes there. Not that he’d found the man. They were always lazing somewhere out of his gaze. Lucky mortals.
Cerberus dropped the stick at his feet and sat back down. All three heads panted and six pairs of eyes watched him with rapt attention.
“Do you need me to throw it again?” he asked. “We’ve been playing for half the day now.”
Hades could spend the rest of eternity throwing sticks for this dog, and he wouldn’t ever satisfy Cerberus’s need. But what else was he doing?
“Fine,” he muttered.
Hades bent down and picked up the stick. But the dog wasn’t looking at him anymore. Cerberus let out a low growl that rumbled through the Underworld and shook the very ground. The sound was a warning someone had entered the gates.
The beast turned with a snarl, lips curled back and revealed wicked teeth that would shred anyone who came into this realm uninvited. Considering Cerberus didn’t immediately run toward the gates, that could only mean another god had entered.
Sighing, Hades straightened and waited for whoever it was to find him. The gods rarely made him wait long. They had an eerie way of knowing where he was, and only one god regularly visited the Underworld.
The golden man appeared as if from the sky. His close cropped curls were too tight to his skull. The grin on his face was dastardly and too easily mistaken as a kind smile. It wasn’t. The winged shoes on his feet always let everyone know who he was. The white wings on the heels beat the sky, lowering him onto the ground of the Underworld with grace.
“Hermes,” Hades growled. “I don’t remember you being scheduled to bring more souls to the gates.”
“I’m not.” Hermes landed lightly, skidding to a stop because he liked speed more than he liked Hades’ soil. “You’ve been summoned to Olympus.”
He didn’t even try to hide his angry groan. “Why? What is it now?”
“Your brother is holding a feast.” Hermes looked down at his nails. “And you have to be there, apparently.”
“Why’s that?”
“Ask Zeus.”
He would not ask that stuck up prick of a brother who refused to be a real king. For the man who called himself the leader of the Olympians, he didn’t want to lead at all. Or even attempt to. Hades disagreed with every decision Zeus made, and that was saying something.
Hades liked to think he was not difficult to convince. He was a thoughtful person and tried to see everything from all sides, no matter what the situation was. However, Zeus only saw one side. His own desires.
If those weren’t fulfilled, then the entire world would bend a knee until Zeus got what he wanted. Unfortunately, that often meant ill begotten children, dead women, and more souls for the Underworld.
He tilted his head back and stared into the dark clouds of the Underworld. “Care to tell me what this whole feast is about?”
“He misses his family.” Hermes didn’t sound convinced. “Apparently he wants to get everyone together because it’s been too long since we’ve all been in the same room.”
“For good reason. Remember the last time?”
“Do I?” Hermes rubbed his jaw, which Hades distinctly remembered having been broken at the last family gathering. “I still wake up at night with this aching.”
“Poseidon has a mean right hook.” And the God of the Sea loved nothing more than to fight. He’d been a brawler back when they were very young, although none of the Olympians had ever been young per say.
They had all been born, fully formed, from their mother Rhea. Sadly, none of the Olympians even thought of her anymore. She’d been banished along with Cronus for allowing their father to eat them. When they sprung from his belly,