The Reclaiming

Chapter Two

Chapter Two:

Samael didn't enjoy taking prisoners or holding people hostage, but that didn't mean he didn't do it when he felt it necessary.

One of his jobs had been to judge the souls that came into the realm of Hell, and treat them accordingly. Majority of the souls that he judged simply went to Sheol, a large dense forest atop the tallest hill, covered in thick fog. Souls that were approved for reincarnation went to Purgatory, a deep gorge that ran through the southern region where they awaited their tests and final judgment, after which they went to either Sheol or Ghenna– the volcanic pit that formed the very center of the realm, an eye of blazing lava and ash, where the most depraved souls were sent to suffer for eternity.

Judging people was a difficult habit to break when it had become second nature, firstly, because it was his job, and secondly, because despite everything, he was the King of Hell, and he was by status and power, a god. He had to be political in his dealings with other divine beings, that included being a fine judge of character, lest he slip up, judge someone wrongly and make bad choices in the way he treated them. You didn't want to offend anyone you weren't absolutely sure you could take down, especially when you were a lone god invoking the ire of an entire pantheon.

He had no such issue offending Zagreus, a deity so far removed from the pantheon that there was no mention of him whatsoever, not to mention, he was relatively young for a deity, just over three hundred years old, he'd sent for a copy of his Induction certificate, it had taken a while, Soren had spent two whole hours combing through the folder deep in the Acropolis of Mount Olympus, which was surprising, because the Elf was a master of unearthing the most improbable of things. His ability to sort through anything and find something was like a powerful magnet going through a haystack and extracting a needle from it.

"That's a fair assessment."

Zagreus had looked at him, realization clouded by the sedative sinking its claws in. He watched as the deity relaxed, muscles going slack from the tincture Soren had so obligingly slipped into the man's tea. He caught the man as he slumped forward, just in time before he hit his head on the solid oak desk, then picked him up and teleported to his apartment.

Two hours had passed, he'd settled the deity in the guest bedroom, chained to a chair and clipped the collar around his neck to prevent any further annoyances of having to play a game of cat and mouse should his captive escape. Then he waited, poured himself a few fingers of his preferred scotch and nursed it, thinking about why he'd taken the man hostage in the first place.

"What do you want, exactly? Because you have zero reason to keep me hostage, people are expecting me for a fuck ton of appointments, you know, they'll notice I'm gone, they'll make calls, my assistant–"  He cut himself off when Samael reached around behind himself and withdraw a sleek touch screen phone from his back pocket.

He turned it on, the light illuminating his face, then swiped it open, screen lock disabled. He opened the work schedule application and scrolled through the entire week's worth of blank slots. He heard the deity swallow hard.

"It looks like you've cleared your week for me, how convenient. Did you know I was going to be this hospitable or did you have vacation plans?"

Zagreus glared at him, seething. Samael found himself smiling at the vitriol in those brilliant emerald eyes, "You should always have a manual passcode for your devices, anyone can lift your fingerprints or take your eyeballs out, lucky for you, I don't enjoy gouging people's eyeballs out, so I just borrowed your retinas for three seconds."

"And if I had a manual passcode you'd have what, tortured me?"

"Would you prefer it?"

"If it means I don't have to spend another second listening to your blather, be my guest."