Lords of the Underworld [malexmale]

Chapter One

Chapter One

*Note: STOP. Do NOT read this book until you have read Inferi first (The Underworld and Hell Chronicles).

Dear Hades,

I got your email address from Ambrosius. I'm not even sure if this is legit, but I'm going to try it anyway. I know you're probably not used to this... But thank you.

Sincerely,

Alaric

P.S. I know someone pulled me into Tartarus. I don't know who. I don't know how. But I thought you should know... someone was using me to get to you. Be careful.

"Select and... delete." Click. I should have felt at least a twinge of guilt, but that was an emotion I had long ago banished to the darkest, deepest sphincter of this universe. A yawn erupted past my lips as I sat back on my bed against the black and green pillows I'd piled up behind me to prop myself up. I stared at the empty email inbox, a frown working itself onto my face. I wasn't sure why I'd even let Charon talk me into this idiotic method of communication in the first place. It was frustrating, irritating, and I'd given my email to Ambrosius, not Alaric.

Although, I mused thoughtfully, rubbing at my jaw as another lock of hair fell from the damned hairclip Persephone had gotten me for Christmas, it was also an intriguing email. I should have known someone had managed to snag Alaric and drag him to Tartarus. His seizure wasn't caused by moving after a lumbar puncture. It was caused by magic negatively interacting with his molecules.

There was a timid knock at my door and I rolled my eyes, snapping my laptop shut and tossing it onto the floor where it crashed loudly and the screen cracked. Not that I would need it anymore anyway because I wasn't going to read anymore stupid emails or requests or whatever...

Except I would need it to video chat with Persephone.

I cursed under my breath and rolled to the side of my bed, grabbing the laptop up and in the process repairing the damage caused by the careless toss. Another timid knock sent bolts of irritation through me. Excuse me, who the fuck do you think you are trying to rush me?

"What?" I snapped impatiently, sitting back on the bed and quickly taking my hair down. Because God forbid my servants see me with a personal, sentimental object. They weren't allowed in my quarters whatsoever. This was my santuary and I didn't want any grubby paws riffling through my drawers.

A moment later, the door swung open to reveal a tiny male servant. He was half-fae, half-imp. A combination of the worst creatures to walk the realms. His white hair was cut short and choppy, like it was done by a blind epileptic man, and his eyes were mismatched brown and green. A none-too-attractive mole centered just beside his left nostril. One of his fangs was fake, going unnoticed to weaker creatures' eyes. He wore a tight black turtleneck vest over a matching long sleeved shirt, matching pants, and socks. It was an outfit required by all my servants to wear.

"What?" I asked again when he said nothing. Was he brain dead? I knew I shouldn't have put Charon in charge of hiring my servants and guards. He was as brain dead as this slave. The servant nipped at the end of his ragged shirt sleeve nervously, making me curl my lip in disgust. Had he any idea what kind of bacteria was crawling all over that? Foul.

"S-Sorry, my lord, but is Mr. Cerberus here to speak hospital talk?" He offered in a wavering baby voice. He was as old as the Atlantean's imp, however, this one wasn't properly educated and babbled like an idiot. I cut him a glare that made him step out of the doorway to my room.

"Tell him to come back later."

"He say important."

"I say fuck off." I commanded, then slammed the door shut in his face with hardly a thought. I heard a whimper on the other side, indicating I'd struck him in the nose-- again. When would he learn to stay out of the doorway completely? Weren't three broken noses enough? Apparently not.