Hades Rewound (Hades Series #2)

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Spencer leaves shortly after that, promising with a rather green face that he'd do his best to find out what he can when he's up the top. To be honest, I think the only reason he promised that was so that I wouldn't go up there and accidentally kill myself; he didn't even leave until I swore that I would stay put until he next came down to see me, even though I'm pretty sure he came close to killing himself in the process.

I'm not entirely sure whether it's a good thing or a bad thing that he felt he had to go to such extremes to make sure I'd stay in the Underworld.

To distract myself, I do what he says (for once) and throw myself into my job with a feverish vigor. I figure that, surrounding myself with the crazy problems of the dead seems like a much better reality than giving into my own hellish nightmares.

And that was a really good strategy, until the moment arrives where I'm sitting staring out into room completely devoid of any dead people, with my worries about Hades creeping around the edges like advancing nightmares.

For the first time since I started helping Hades with the judgment of souls, I have literally run out of dead people to judge.

I sigh, tapping my fingers agitatedly on the arm of the couch as I stare out across the empty room. Come on, someone has to turn up. This cannot be the one day where nobody has a problem with their death; somebody has to be confused about why they died, someone is almost always confused about why they died. So where are they all hiding? I'd even take an insane serial murderer around about now, if it meant ignoring the shadows creeping around the corners.

I groan, rubbing my face. Dear god. Have I really hit the point where I'm complaining about the world no longer having problems? Am I really that petulant?

I don't like Hades-less me. I'm morbid and whiny and I want murderers to complain about their death sentences.

The squeaking of the door opening echoes through the small marble room, interrupting my manic finger-tapping. I look up eagerly, the jolting movement making my neck twinge painfully, but my face falls when I realise who it is.

"Oh. It's you."

"Gee, take the excitement down a notch, will you? You're practically smothering me here." Kezia shuts the door behind her and leans on it. She watches me for a few seconds, folding her arms over her chest.

"Did you want something?" I ask emotionlessly. "Because if you don't, you're kind of holding up all the dead people with problems."

"There are none Evie. You've literally holed yourself up in here for the last seventy-two hours. Straight. The next dead person with a problem is going to be you."

I blink, sitting up straighter as her words sink in. "What?"

She sighs, unable to keep the sympathy from washing over her features. "I'm worried about you. And that's an annoying feeling; I never worry about people. It ruins my macho ego and couldn't-care-less attitude."

"What? Why?"

"Uh, because you've holed yourself up in here for the last seventy-two hours? Or because the only words I've heard you speak all week are 'what' and 'why'?"

"I've spoken other words." I argue weakly. "How else am I supposed to judge all the dead people?"

"Evie." She tuts, sitting down on the couch next to me. I try not to notice that she's sitting in Hades' spot. "What are you doing?"

"My job?"

"Yes, I can see that. But, see, most people take a break every now and then, and don't work themselves to death."