Improbable Cause (An S4J Bonus Story)

Chapter I

Hades could never stop trying to convince people he was scary.

Every time Hermes entered his uncle's office, there was some new death- or otherwise Underworld-themed decor in it: a skeleton leaned against the window (whether real or fake, Hermes didn't want to know), a coffin-shaped pen case on his desk, a plaque with his name on it that lit up with blue hellfire whenever anyone walked by it. Both Hermes and Conny had tried to tell Hades several times that anyone who was actually scary didn't spend so much time trying to prove it—Conny with a lot less sugarcoating—but sooner or later he figured they would have to give up.

Now, Hermes wandered around and poked at all the skeleton-shaped knickknacks while Hades stirred their drinks at his minibar beside the desk. Hermes had spent enough time around mortals to know that technically, going by Earth time, it was too early to be drinking. But he was a god, and could therefore selectively decide which rules applied to him.

"Where's Persephone?" Hermes asked, picking up what he thought was a snow globe. "I was hoping to see her when I came by today. Clio wanted her advice on some stubborn plant she's having trouble with."

"With Demeter," Hades said, sulkily, like someone else had gotten the race car in Monopoly before he could. "She said she'll be back tomorrow, but I doubt it. Demeter always finds a way to make her stay longer. I mean, you would think, after literal eons of marriage, that woman would come around to me. I get it—there's all that mess about the alleged kidnapping but we all know that's not how it went down. Is she honestly going to believe the mortals over me?"

"Hades," Hermes said, raising his eyebrows, "you're being dramatic again."

Hades stirred his drink faster, but exhaled. "I know," he said, setting the glass down on the desk and gliding it in Hermes's direction. "I know, I know. Persie tells me that too. We're working on it."

Hermes took the drink, bumping it against Hades's glass before he took a sip. He wasn't a skilled enough drinker to recognize which precise drink it was, just that it was both sweet and sour, a citrus burn down his throat.

"You've been keeping me company a lot lately, Herm-Herm," Hades said. "I remember a time when it was like pulling teeth getting you to do your job down here."

"Well. Olympus is a lot less dark and there are a lot less goblins trying to sell me eyeball kabobs."

"Eyeball kabobs are certainly an acquired taste," Hades agreed, but Hermes saw his eyes narrow behind the shield of his glasses, two black holes drawing him in to his own destruction. "And I doubt you've acquired it. So what changed?"

A simple question, an even simpler answer. The Underworld had someone it didn't before, and as long it held onto him, Hermes would call this place home. As many centuries as it took.

Hermes lowered his gaze into the brown-gold depths of his drink. "I'm not gonna leave him here, Uncle Hades," he said. "I can't."

Hades's expression softened, a warm sort of understanding seeping into his face that hadn't been there before. Hermes wondered if he was going to ask more, if there was more left to say at all, but his answer was a knock on the door.

"It's open," Hades called.

Conny swung the door wide and stepped inside. The door was twice his height, as most things were in the Palace, the two-pronged skyscraper that served as both the Underworld's administrative building and a residential space. This gaping vertical difference had the effect of making Conny look like an irritated, Victorian Polly Pocket. "You shouldn't keep it open," he snapped, fangs flashing. "What if someone sent an assassin in here?"