Hades (Contemporary Mythos Book 1)

I drummed my fingers against the mousepad on my desk. The processing was still going, and I wanted to make sure it finished before we left for the airport. My suitcase rested on the floor next to me, and I bounced my knee impatiently. Staring at the screen with dried eyes, I regretted my decision to wear contacts for travel.

“How long have you been here?” Sara asked from the doorway. Her hand was on her hip, the other curled around the handle of her suitcase.

“Only since 5:30. I wanted to make sure the processing finished so I could save the case file.”

“I know what you’re doing.” She looked down at my erratic knee.

I slapped my hand over it. “What am I doing?”

“You feel guilty. You promised Mrs. Conroy you’d take another look at the evidence, and now you’re going on vacation.”

My eyes narrowed. “I’m simply cellophane to you, aren’t I?”

“Mrs. Conroy won’t know you’re going on vacation and even if she did…you’re doing this to clear your head. If anything, it’ll help you, right? You’ll come back, sit down at your desk, and have that big eureka moment.” She grabbed my mouse and pulled up my playlist, using the scrolling button to search through hundreds of songs.

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t think about work.” I stared off into space. Imagine everything I could do non-work related.

“Vacation starts now.” Her full lips spread into a grin, and she yanked my earbuds cord from the computer.

The song Push It by Salt n Pepa blared through the speakers. It was our anthem. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d danced to it. Leaping from my chair, I pumped my hands near my chest, bumping hips with her. Our dance wasn’t music video level, but it was ours. She always made exaggerated “ah” sounds before singing the words “push it”, and it never failed to make me laugh uncontrollably.

Taking a moment to simply be, was going to be like a breath of fresh air. I’d have to figure out a way to return the favor. She’d refuse monetary compensation, so it’d need to come from the heart. We were so caught up singing the lyrics at the top of our lungs and bouncing around, we didn’t hear one of the troopers come in.

“Hey! Before you go, can you push these papers? They’re for your case that closed last week.” He threw a stack of papers onto my desk.

We both froze, attempting to hold back our giggles. He shook his head, snickering as he left.

We took a taxi to O’Hare Airport and arrived three hours before departure, as I requested. My theory was, the lines would be shorter, and I could nab a seat facing the windows at our gate.

The runway bustled with workers carting luggage across the tarmac outside. I sipped on my iced coffee, enjoying the aisle seat that Sara graciously allowed me. The straw made slurping sounds as I drained every last drop from my cup.

“How are you with airplane bathrooms?” Sara slouched in her seat to the point where her neck was resting on the back support.

I plucked the straw with my teeth. “Not a big fan. Why?”

“Just wondering. Remember, we nabbed the non-stop flight.” Her gaze dropped to my empty cup.

I made a pfft sound. “I’ll go right before we board, and I’ll be fine.”

“I bet you five dollars you’ll have to go on the plane at least three times.”

As if this woman had a personal relationship with my bladder.

“Fine.” I glared at her and wiped my hand on my shirt to rid it of condensation before jutting it out to shake.

“Oh, my God. Is that who I think it is?” Sara asked, staring wide-eyed.

Women surrounded a man with long blonde hair. He wore a tan leather jacket, ripped jeans, and boots. His bright smile flashed wide.

“Holy crud. Holy crud.” I sunk in my seat like he’d somehow recognize me if he spotted me. “That’s Ace from Apollo’s Suns.”

“Steph. Go talk to him. Get his autograph, a selfie, whatever. You love that band.” She pushed my shoulders, trying to get me to stand, but I dug my heels into the carpet.

“No. He’s in an airport trying to travel. Who in their right mind is ever in a good mood traveling? It’d be rude.” I bit on my thumbnail, watching him drag his hand through his hair, pausing now and again to throw up the rock horns gesture for another selfie.

“All those girls don’t seem to care. Judging by that smile which hasn’t left his face, I’d say he doesn’t either.”

I shook my head, feeling my heartbeat against my chest like a jackhammer. “I can’t, Sara.” The moment the words left my mouth, I knew I’d regret not working up the courage to go and meet him. Mental facepalm.

“Alright, then. I will.” She plucked one of the squared white napkins from my knee and reached into the front pocket of my backpack, grabbing one of seven pens I kept there and then marched over.

“Oh my gosh.” I sunk further in my seat.

She brushed past several women, demanding Ace’s attention. They exchanged a few words before she held up the napkin and pointed in my direction. Ace looked over with a wide grin and waved.

My cheeks flushed, and I slapped my hands over my eyes. Parting my fingers enough to see Sara, she leaned forward and hugged him. She hugged Ace. I wouldn’t have gotten out a coherent sentence, let alone brush my boobs against his chest in an embrace.

As she walked back, Ace dipped his hand behind his back for a fraction of a second. A shimmering orange glow flashed from his palm. He shoved his hand in his pocket and then removed it, showing one woman a guitar pick. What the—I stared at the ice cubes in my empty cup. I shouldn’t have gotten that extra espresso shot.

“Here you go.” She slapped the napkin on my leg. “Apparently, he’s headed to Buffalo, New York, for a special gig.”

I picked it up, and my jaw dropped. “To Stephanie. Never lose your sparkle. Love, Ace,” I read out loud. “You told him I’m—sparkly?”

“No. He made it up after he looked over at you.” She shrugged.

“Thanks, Sara. You gotta stop with these favors, though, or I’ll never be able to make up for it.” I slipped the napkin behind a cover of one of my notebooks for safekeeping.

The attendant announced our flight was getting ready to board. After going through the ritualistic process, we nestled into our seats and geared up for hours and hours of travel. It’d be worth it once the gorgeous island of Corfu came into view.

I wrapped the u-shaped pillow around my neck, secured my seat belt, and took out my iPod. After scrolling through my playlist, I settled on You Spin Me Round by Dead Or Alive and rested my head against the window. With any luck, I’d sleep through most of the flight and not have to use the restroom.

That didn’t happen. Four hours in, I’d woken up in a panic, practically crawling over Sara and some stranger’s lap to get to the aisle. Squeezing my knees together, I wobbled to the bathrooms only to find several people waiting in line. I’d never peed myself as an adult and didn’t want to start now.

I pursed my lips together and tried not to think about it. Naturally, my mind went straight to thinking about the plane flying over water.

“Miss?” The older man in front of me said. He was shorter than me by several inches, with a short gray beard, wide-rimmed glasses, and a sizeable slanted nose. “Would you like to cut in front of me? Looks like you need it more than me.” His colors burst with bright blues and greens.

“Really? Are you sure?” I pursed my lips together, trying to hide how genuinely uncomfortable I was.

He laughed, watching my feet bounce. “Absolutely. Go for it.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” I said as I moved past him and into the next available stall. It took all I had not to moan out loud at the relief I felt.

After washing my hands twice, I came back out and stopped in front of my hero. “Thank you so much again. What was your name?”

“Pan,” he answered.

I blinked. “Pan?”

“Stan,” he repeated with a chuckle.

“Sorry. Ears must be clogged.” I smiled. “Stan, I’m Stephanie, thanks again.”

I shuffled back to my seat, and the stranger whipped off her seatbelt to let me in this time with an exasperated stare.

“I’m so sorry about before. It was Mission: Critical.” I gave a nervous chuckle as I scooted past her and Sara to my seat.

Sara held up a single finger in my face.

“One what?” I asked, scrunching my nose.

“Two more times and you owe me five bucks.”

Throughout the flight, let’s just say she got her five bucks.

My eyes fluttered open, feeling Sara’s elbow nudging me. After checking my face for dried drool, I peered out my window. She leaned over me, and we gawked at the gorgeous blue water, mountains, and whitewashed houses. A portion of my family was Greek, but I never considered visiting the country itself. Traveling so far as downtown Chicago was a feat, let alone overseas. Seeing its beauty staring up at me like a beacon, I regretted never considering it.

“What made you pick this place, Sara?”

“Something just called to me about it. That and I remember my friend talking about it not too long ago.” She rested her chin in her palm, still staring out the window. “Naturally, my mind went straight to Athens, but she told me if we’re going to go, it should be Corfu. Now I see why.”

“No kidding. Are there temples here?”

“Tons. Byzantine churches and Venetian fortresses too. But the first thing we’re doing after throwing our suitcases into our room is changing into our bikinis and hitting the swim-up bar.” She leaned back into her seat, shutting her eyes with a sigh.

I chuckled, pressing my forehead against the window. “Sounds like a glorious plan.”

Besides the fear of our taxi cab driver killing one of several people in swimsuits swerving through traffic on four-wheelers, or them killing us, the ride was rather pleasant. Mostly the scenery. Long winding roads through hills and mountains. Vibrant green trees and shrubs as far as the eye could see. And of course, the blue water surrounding the island.

We arrived at our home away from home for the week. To say the resort was gorgeous would’ve been a monstrous understatement. It was two buildings nestled amongst hundreds of olive trees, seconds away from the beach. Mountains were off in the distance, and the sand was almost white.

Sara curled her arm around mine. “Amazing, right? Wait until you see our room.”

“Sara, seriously, how much did this cost you? And what did I do to deserve this?”

She clamped a hand over my mouth as she pushed me toward the hallway. “You work your ass off, and I’ve lost count of how many favors you’ve done for me. Shut up and enjoy it, Steph.” She didn’t move her hand, so I nodded instead.

Marbled floors and Greek statues on Ionic columns lined the hall. We stepped in front of a room with a gold number seventeen. She scanned the card over the reader and bit down on her lower lip. My jaw would’ve hit the floor if I could’ve unhinged it. The room was a vast open space, with one wall open to the outside. The wind whipped through, making the curtains sway. It led to a veranda complete with lounge couches and direct beach access. We could wake up and walk right outside to the beach.

“Can I stay here forever?” I mumbled, unable to tear my eyes away from the sight of sand, water, and mountains.

She hugged my shoulders from behind and let out a squeal before wheeling away her suitcase.

There were two queen-sized beds with white and pale blue striped comforters and enough throw pillows to outfit an army. Everything looked so pristine, I was afraid to touch it.

“Get that bikini on girly. There’s so much more to see of this place.” Sara yanked her black and white swimsuit from her case.

As I neared the beachside window, I closed my eyes, letting the wind tussle my hair. The sun was warm and inviting, like a heated blanket. The smell of salt and olives permeated the air. For the first time in a while, I felt the tension melt away like a gooey marshmallow.

“You brought the one-piece?” Sara asked.

I turned to see her holding up my swimsuits. She held the one-piece with two fingers as if it were a slimy piece of garbage. I reached for it, but she pulled it away.

“I’m not wearing that bikini. It barely covers my…essentials.”

“That’s kind of the point, Steph. You have a rocking bod, what are you afraid of?”

I scanned her string bikini. She frequented the gym. Between that and her profession, everything was toned, tight, and in top form. On the other hand, I spent most of my time glued to a desk, and had a bit of pudge I couldn’t get rid of. Enough that it made me self-conscious.

“I’ll think about wearing the bikini tomorrow. Deal?” I held my hand out for the one-piece.

She rolled her eyes before slapping it into my hand. “Fine. At least you brought it. Hurry up.”

Stepping into the bathroom, my feet pressed against the coolness of white engraved tiles, all fixtures made of gray and white marble. I slipped into the suit, pausing to look at myself in the mirror. Turning my back to it, I eyed the white anchor positioned right above my butt. I didn’t see anything wrong with this suit. It still clung to every curve and had a cute nautical theme.

“Stop judging yourself in the mirror, Steph. Let’s go!” Sara yelled at me through the door.

The resort had several pools, but only one of them had the swim-up bar she’d been going on about. In the center was the bar with a circular white roof that stretched far enough for shade. There were stools inside the water around the perimeter, all of them occupied. There were so many people in the pool, they were bumping elbows. I reached for my dress pocket and grimaced. No pockets meant no Tums.

“Hey, you go ahead, Sara. I’m going to grab a drink from the other bar.”

The one with a single customer.

She cocked an eyebrow. “They serve the same stuff, I’m sure.”

“True. This one has more…breathing room?”

She smiled. “Say no more. Come on in when you’re ready. I’m sure I’ll have new friends to introduce to you at that point.”

She wasn’t kidding. The woman’s social skills were like watching a choreographed dance routine. Mine was more like a stand-up comedy headed by Ben Stein.

“Will do.” I took a seat at the bar, making sure to keep several stools between the male patron and me.

“Kalimera,” the bartender greeted.

I smiled. “Hello.”

The bartender slapped a cocktail napkin in front of me. “What can I get you?” He asked, his voice laced with a Greek accent.

“I hadn’t gotten that far yet. Hmm. Mai tai?” I tapped my finger against my lips. “No. Strawberry daiquiri. Or maybe…”

“You look like a piña colada kind of woman,” the tender said with a sparkling grin that made my cheeks blush.

“Yes. Perfect. Thank you.” I drummed my hands on the bar top, turning in my stool to take in the scenery.

A mysterious black cloud of fog-like smoke seeped around my feet. I furrowed my brow, following its trail. It flowed from the man sitting near me. Colors of dirty gray and varying shades of brown skirted over his arms. He had both hands wrapped around his tumbler of amber-colored liquid. His head held low, causing his chin-length dirty blonde hair to shield his face. He was dressed in head-to-toe black in a button-up short-sleeved shirt and pants, like Johnny Cash going to the beach. A hint of a tattoo peeked out from his sleeve.

He caught sight of me staring, and the fog sucked in, disappearing as if it’d never been there at all. Maybe it hadn’t.

“Here you are, miss,” the bartender said, snapping me back to reality and making me jump. He snickered. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

I wrapped my hand around the tall glass and pulled it toward me. Not used to the lack of an eye shield from my glasses, I almost poked my eye with the straw. “It’s no big deal. I’m just a skittish ninny.”

The look he gave me was well deserved. I was sure the last time I’d heard the word “ninny” was from my great-grandma. Food needed to go in my mouth pronto to shut myself up. The glass had a decorated stick complete with an orange and pineapple slice. I opted for the pineapple, brought it to my lips, and winced when cold liquid pooled in my lap.

Lovely. A piña colada stain. Precisely what my ensemble was missing.

I stood on the rung of my stool and reached for napkins near Johnny Cash. Our hands brushed as I pulled the napkin away. A dozen indecipherable whispers flooded my ears, blocking out the sounds from the pool, the birds, everything else around me. I froze mid-sit.

His chin lifted, revealing eyes that matched the color of his whiskey, squared jawline sprinkled with a light beard, slanted straight nose, and thin lips.

“Sorry,” I stuttered. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Okay. I really was a ninny.

I sat back down and furiously dabbed at the stain.

He didn’t respond and only moved so much as to finish the contents of his drink.

“Another whiskey?” The tender asked him.

“Mhm,” he said, sliding the glass across the bar.

Convinced the stain would remain a stain, I balled the napkin in my palm. “So, uh, whiskey your drink of choice?” Heat flowed up my neck.

He slowly turned to look at me with a cock of his head. He smirked, and a small dimple formed at the corner of his mouth. “Listen, darlin’. I want to be left alone.”

A southern accent. I was not expecting that.

“A resort with hundreds of people doesn’t seem quite the best place to be alone.” I stirred my drink, unable to take my eyes off him.

The bartender returned with his drink, and Johnny brought it to his lips, pausing before taking a sip. He peered at me through the strands of his hair that’d fallen over his gaze. “This place relaxes me,” he said in a clipped tone.

His hair gave him a further sense of mystery, disguising the furrow in his brow, and the intent in his eyes.

“I hear the spa is pretty relaxing. Though I wouldn’t know, considering I’ve never been to one.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the bar top.

His jaw clenched, popping at the corners. “The spa doesn’t serve whiskey.” He shook the glass in his hand, making the ice cubes clank, before taking a sip.

My God. Sawyer from the show Lost. He looked. Like. Sawyer. My stomach tightened. I concentrated my stare on my drink instead. “For being in paradise, you’re awfully grumpy.”

He turned his chin, dropping his eyes to scan over my bare legs before catching my gaze unabashedly. “I reckon I’ve got a lot to be grumpy about.”

“Try me.” I sat up straighter.

He sighed, setting the glass down on the bar top. “My wife of over a thousand years left me for another man. A lesser man.”

“I had a relationship that felt that long once.” I snorted. “But a thousand years? Wow. Tainted Love?”

He glared at me. “What?”

“Tainted Love.”

Silence.

“It’s a song by Soft Cell?”

His scowl deepened.

I gulped, tapping my finger against my thigh. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” I should’ve stopped at that point, but something in my gut wouldn’t let me. “What’s your name?”

He took a long swig of his drink. “Hades.” He said it so simply. Like he told me his name was Bob.

“Hades? You were named after the god of the Underworld?” I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

“One and only.”

“Wow. Your parents were a little cruel, huh?”

A fire lit in his eyes when he looked at me, the tiniest of smirks creasing into the corner of his lips. “You have no idea.”

My heart thumped against my chest, his stare turning my stomach into a series of knots.

“You seem nervous.” The smirk continued as he squinted at me over the rim of his glass.

I gulped. “Nervous? What reason would I have to be nervous?”

He dragged a hand through his hair, and I bit back a whimper. “I don’t know, but your chest is getting all splotchy.” He pointed.

Slapping my hands over my chest, I hopped off my stool. “Well, I’ll uh—leave you alone. Enjoy your whiskey.”

I turned to walk away, but a string from my coverup caught on the stool, yanking me back.

Hades leaned forward with the ease of a jaguar and plucked the string free. “I didn’t get your name.”

“Steph. Stephanie.”

He stared at me for a moment before smirking. He tipped the glass. “I’ll be seein’ ya…Stephanie.” He enunciated the last part of my name with extra emphasis.

I bunched my coverup near my neck, and after one last moment of staring at him, I turned away.

The crowd in the swim-up bar had thinned out. Sara’s infectious laugh echoed through the open space. It never failed to put a smile on my face. I waded over to her with the remainder of my drink in hand.

“Well, hey there. Who was that guy you were talking to?” Sara asked, chewing on her straw.

I risked a glance over my shoulder, looking at the empty stools of the bar. He was gone. A peculiar disappointment washed over me. “Oh, just a guy who calls himself Hades.”

“Hades? Is it a nickname, or does he truly think he’s some kind of Greek god? I’ve met plenty of men with that complex.”

“Does it matter? I came here to have fun and relax with my best friend. Not hook up with a random stranger.”

“Oh, yeah?” She asked, right as two men walked up.

“A whiskey Coke and a gin and tonic,” one man ordered. He had blonde hair cropped short with a thin, but toned physique. His accent sounded American. Mid-west maybe?

“See something you like?” The blonde man said, making me choke on my drink.

Every time I was out in public, I tended to people watch, profile them. It was par for the course with my profession. I was always trying to figure out people’s dirty laundry. I scanned his arms, noting a maple leaf tattoo with swirling patterns intertwined.

“I was just looking at your tattoo. Any symbolic meaning?” I didn’t move my eyes from his and attempted to fish for the straw with my mouth, missing it twice.

He looked down at his bicep and patted the tattoo, smiling brightly. “A patriotic symbol for my country is all.”

Sara snapped her fingers. “Canadian. I thought I recognized the accent. We’re close to your border. Chicago.”

We lived in a town called Des Plaines, but it was easier to say Chicago. Close enough and widely known.

Sara leaned past me, extending her hand. “I’m Sara. And this here is Stephanie.”

There she went being all social.

The blonde chuckled and shook her hand. “I’m Keith, and this is Guy.” Guy sounded more like ‘Gee’. “We’re from around Ontario.”

“Chicago, huh? I’ve always wanted to go there,” Guy said, moving through the water to get closer to Sara. He was the polar opposite of Keith. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a deeply tanned complexion. His hair was long but pulled into a tight bun at the base of his neck.

“Oh? What part of the city interests you the most?” Sara asked, turning on her stool to face him.

“Are you two here together?” Keith asked.

“Yup.” I took a sip of my drink. “As friends. I mean, we’re not—not that there’s anything wrong with that. I just didn’t want you to assume—”

He lifted his aviator sunglasses onto his head, nestling them within the blonde spikes. “Well, good. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t stepping on any toes.” He smiled wide. “What are you drinking?”

“Piña colada.” I rested the empty cup on the bar top while Keith flagged down the tender. My eyes betrayed me, looking at the bar for Hades again.

His smile deepened as he handed me another cup of coconut bliss. “Love the anchor on your suit there.”

“The what?” Right. The anchor. I gave a nervous chuckle. “Thanks.”

He bit down on his lower lip, letting his gaze rest on my nether regions longer than necessary. “So, what do you do for a living?” He breached my invisible shield, shifting himself closer.

I leaned back. “I’m a digital forensics examiner for the state police.”

His brows rose. “Can’t say I know what the hell that even is. Sorry.” He laughed.

“It’s forensics. Just the digital side of it. Computers and such. No stepping over dead bodies or studying blood spray patterns.”

He stared at me, nodding.

I smirked. “I hack things.” Hacking was not part of my job in the least, but the media had glorified it. It was the one area of cybersecurity I knew people were familiar with.

His eyes widened. “Oh, wow! That’s awesome. What’s been your biggest case?”

The Fueller case. I’d managed to forget about it. I gulped down my drink, hoping it would help flee it away from my thoughts.

“We’re going to be late for scuba diving if we don’t haul ass, Keith-ster.” Guy slapped Keith on the back.

“Hey, it was great talking to you. We’re only here all week, so I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.” Keith smiled, slipping his aviators onto his face.

My knee bounced underwater, and I offered a weak grin. Mrs. Conroy’s sad face loomed over me like a raincloud.

“Guy seemed nice enough,” Sara said, tapping her fingernail against her cup.

“Uh, huh,” I muttered.

“Hey.” She turned my chin to look at her. “Time for a toast.”

She always knew how to snap me out of it.

“What are we toasting?” I asked.

“To meeting the god of the Underworld.”

I burst into laughter. “To Hades.”

We tapped our cups together.