I glanced down at the floor again, trying to compose myself. If I didn’t get my shit together, I was going to kill him, and that wouldn’t do Leo or me any good whatsoever. At the very least I needed to get Leo out of here alive.
The hands inlaid in the floor sparked an idea.
“Leo,” I whispered, hoping to get his attention without drawing any additional ears to the conversation. “I need you to steal my bracelet.”
“Huh?”
If I simply handed it to him, Hades and Manea would know I was up to something, and they’d stop us before he was able to get it on. But if I could get it into his hands without their notice, then he would be protected by Badb’s magic, and nothing here could kill him.
I’d be exposed, but I’d worry about myself later.
“Steal my bracelet.”
“Is this really the best time?” He gave me a quizzical look, and I returned it with an expression that said I had no interest in being questioned. If he didn’t know by now that I never asked for anything without good reason, he was about to learn.
He took my hand, squeezing it gently, and lifted it to his lips, dusting a kiss on my knuckles. The pure focus he kept on my eyes and the soft, sensual way his mouth brushed across my skin sent an unexpected shiver down my spine.
When he lowered my hand back to my side, the bracelet was gone. I hadn’t felt it move. The man was good.
“Put it on,” I added. “Now.”
This time he didn’t argue. He pretended to adjust the button on his shirtsleeve like it was the most natural thing in the world to do right then. After he’d finished, the linked hands of the bracelet shone around his wrist in the bright orange light. It was a tight fit, but he had it on.
I let my breath out in a whoosh of relief.
Light from above danced and played its way across the glistening floor, giving off the eerie impression that the bones were moving underneath us. It was a deeply unsettling illusion that also managed to make the floor seem unstable, and if I looked at it too long, I felt dizzy.
I glanced up to the windows overhead, and for the briefest of moments I could have sworn I saw bodies—charred black from flame—twisting and writhing in the fire, as if they were still alive. They were screaming soundlessly to me, but I couldn’t make out the words, and I was glad of that.
Swallowing hard, I steadied myself and said a silent prayer to Seth. If you get me out of this alive, I will never question you again. I will be the best Rain Chaser you’ve ever had, I swear it.
I doubted he could hear me from all the way down here. Storms in the underworld were outside his purview.
It also meant my powers were basically useless to me.
Hades stepped onto the riser and lowered himself into his throne, his hands resting on two smoothly polished skulls, one on the end of each chair arm. Manea stood next to him, her elbow perched on his shoulder, playing with the collar of his cloak.
They were like night and day beside each other.
Hades was dark of feature with jet-black hair falling in waves to his shoulders. His skin was tanned, rich and coppery, and his eyes were so dark they might as well have been black. Even from where I stood I could see them glow red around the pupil, like stoked coals burned from within. He wore head-to-toe black, from his polished leather boots, to the unbuttoned shirt that showed a hint of chest hair on his muscular pecs.
Guess the underworld had a pretty bitchin’ gym.
His long cloak swept out on the floor in front of him, pooling down the steps like a fabric waterfall.
He commanded a very frightening presence, all without saying a single word.
Manea, her fingers toying with the fur on Hades’s cloak, smiled at me. She was his opposite in every way except how scary she was. She was beautiful, ethereal, and it was hard to believe she was real even when standing in the same room as her. Her hair was such a pale shade of blonde it might as well have been clear, and it cascaded down her back to her waist, showing no adornment or styling beyond the crown she wore. A crown made of teeth and bone.
I shuddered.
Her eyes were as pale as her hair, crystal blue that bordered on ice gray. Looking directly at her it was difficult to imagine her eyes ever showed any kind of emotion whatsoever, they were so cold. She wore a white dress cinched around the waist with a belt also decorated in bone shards, and at the hem were thousands of marigold petals, ranging in shade from bright yellow to deep crimson red, making it look as if her dress were on fire. Her skin was so pale the bone fragments looked dark in contrast. The milky whiteness of her exposed arms appeared faintly blue under the glowing light.
Manea looked like a ghost.
Fitting, considering that was what she turned people into.
She leaned over, her blue-white lips grazing the shell of Hades’s ear, and whispered something to him as her hand slipped inside the open vee of his shirt. The whole time her gaze never moved from me, and I squirmed uneasily. I felt like I was watching something I shouldn’t be seeing.