A Touch of Darkness (Hades & Persephone 1)

“It sounds simple enough—rock beats scissors, scissors beats paper, and paper beats rock—how exactly does paper beat rock?”

“Paper covers rock,” Persephone said.

Hades did not appreciate her reasoning and the goddess shrugged. “Why is an ace a wildcard?”

“Because it’s the rules.”

“Well, it’s a rule that paper covers rock,” she said. “Ready?”

They lifted their hands, and Persephone couldn’t help giggling. Witnessing the God of the Dead playing rock-paper-scissors should be on every mortal’s bucket list.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” they said in unison.

“Yes!” Persephone squealed. “Rock beats scissors!”

She mimicked smashing Hades’ scissors with her fist—the god looked confused.

“Damn. I thought you’d choose paper.”

“Why?”

“Because you just sang paper’s praises.”

“Only because you asked why paper covers rock. This isn’t poker, Hades—it’s not about deception.”

He met her gaze, eyes burning. “Isn’t it?”

She looked away, drawing in a breath before she asked, “You said you had successes before with your contracts. Tell me about them.”

Hades moved to a bar cabinet across the room. He poured his drink of choice—whisky—and took a seat on his black leather sofa.

“What is there to tell? I have offered many mortals the same contract over the years. In exchange for money, fame, love—they must give up their vice. Some mortals are stronger than others and conquer their habit.”

“Conquering a disease is not about strength, Hades.”

“No one said anything about disease.”

“Addiction is a disease. It cannot be cured. It must be managed.”

“It is managed,” he argued.

“How? With more contracts?”

“That is another question.”

She lifted her hands, and they played another round. When she drew rock and he scissors, she didn’t celebrate but demanded, “How, Hades?”

“I do not ask them to give everything up at once. It is a slow process.”

They played again, and this time, Hades won. “What would you do?”

She blinked. “What?”

“What would you change? To help them?”

Her mouth fell open a little at his question, and then she said. “First, I would not allow a mortal to gamble their soul away. Second, if you are going to request a bargain, challenge them to go to rehab if they’re an addict—and do one better—pay for it. If I had all the riches in the world as you, I’d spend it helping people.”

He studied her a moment.