Pitchfork by Nicole Scarano

Author:Nicole Scarano [Scarano, Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-12-05T18:30:00+00:00

XVII

Hades was not sure if it was sheer terror that woke her or the orchestra of panicked arguing ricocheting off the walls. Her eyelids shot open, sending her bolting upright only to crumple over, eyes searing with pain. She moaned like a drunkard waking without a bottle, brain fogged. The constant voices rattled off the bones of her skull, and she sat on the edge of the bed trying to recover from the torture scorching through her when a presence shifted the air.

Hades’ eyes flicked up and found Kerberos’ hulking frame shifting from one massive paw to another in the doorway, his expression that of an agitated child come to tattle to his mother. Hades squinted at the dog in confusion, wondering what bothered him, when the bellows of familiar voices barreled through the corridors. Hades shot to her feet despite the fire in her skull and on teetering steps rushed from the bedroom, nearly tripping over Chimera who crouched uncomfortably by the door.

Hastening toward the throne room, beasts on her heels, the voices grew louder. They were angry, full of fear and rage, and Hades knew why. She had the moment she woke. It was her fault; she had caused their horror and pain, and now they were trapped in a place that no one had willingly stepped foot into for centuries.

“Stop!” Hades screamed, bursting into the throne room. “Stop!” Her voice was drowned by hysterical gods and immortals. Normally it commanded great power, but the anguish in her head made it difficult for her to stand upright.

Hades’ mouth opened to scream again when Chimera planted his feet firmly on the stone beside his mother and roared. His bellow so impressive, it shook the Underworld, the deep tone of his voice evil and terrorizing. Bloodied and battered faces and soot-covered bodies stilled impossibly motionless. All turned toward the noise and were met with the sight of the god of the dead. Despite Alkaios’ power and claim to the Olympian title of King of the Underworld, here stood true death. Though disheveled, Hades with her long raven hair and flowing black dress, flanked by her hellhound and monstrous lion, was a terrifying vision to behold. More so now than ever before.

The crowd collectively sucked in their breath and almost leaned away from Hades as if to put distance between them without actually moving. For many, this was the first time they ever witnessed Kerberos, and his three vicious heads with mouths full of sharpened fangs shifted ever so slightly to observe the throng. Out of the frozen bodies, Alkaios emerged, defying Kerberos’ warning. He covered the ground between them, both relief at seeing his wife and horror at the news he bore warring in his eyes.

“Olympus has fallen,” Alkaios said gravely once he stood before her, pitchfork gripped tightly in his fist.

“I know,” Hades answered, lifting a hand and resting it lovingly on his ash streaked face. “I prophesied it.” Her fingers dropped from his cheek and slid down until they came to rest over his heart.

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