2 - Honest Intentions

Hades flicked a wrist at his two cringing servants. "Out." They leapt over one another in their bid to leave, as with a wave of his hand the Lord of the Dead summoned a throne behind himself and a small stool behind his new guest.

"So, blackmail, eh? Trouble in paradise?" Hades templed his fingertips together, his teeth spreading into another broad smile. "What happened - you catch my brother stealing from the collection plate?"

Ganymede crossed one leg over the other and pulled his tunic over his knee. "First, I want a deal," he replied. Thin pupils darted to him and shrank further, like a praying mantis losing patience.

"Uh-huh." The god's voice remained calm. "And why, exactly... do you think I wanna give you one?" He interrupted Ganymede's attempt at an answer almost immediately. "What's that accent? Theban?"

"No, no it's not," he replied with a fluster. "Phyrgian. Troy, specifically."

"Trojan, huh? Funny, I coulda sworn..." The subject had been dropped, but Ganymede snatched it back up before it could hit the ground.

"The only power I've got is that you might want something I've got - of course I've gotta take the leverage."

"Oh please, kid," Hades waved a hand, filling the room with smoke and the growing, unspoken thrum of his anger. "You think you've got something that good? I'm already wasting enough time as it is-"

"Enough with the false urgency, already!" Ganymede snapped. Flames burst up from Hades' shoulders. "I wanna give it to you, but I'm not giving it over for free!" Palms flat, he jabbed them in Hades' direction. "You think you'd be any different?"

The flames lowered. Hades gaze settled on him, and again that silence descended. Something crawling up the back of Ganymede's spine told him that the silence was the oldest thing in the room, and judging by the incessancy of the god's speech, he knew it too.

"Well, that's true." Smoke curled around Ganymede's waist and yanked him across the floor. The god leaned forward, his elbows on his lap, as the boy stumbled to a halt barely an inch from his sneering, piscine face. "What's your offer?"

His voice, as sharp as a viola, hit every note in a careful monotone. "I tell you everything you wanna know. In exchange I stay here, in the realm of the dead, above water."

Hades leant back with a bewildered scowl and banished the smoke. Ganymede fell back to his seat as he replied, "I've been spending most of my life trying to get out of this stinking basement." His nose curled into a sneer. "I smell a rat."

"No rat." Ganymede followed every twitch of the god's brow ridge, eyed every shift of his knuckles, and watched every disgruntled movement of the tongue inside of his mouth. "I got dragged to Mount Olympus once already. I'm just trying to make sure I land an afterlife where I don't have to listen to Hermes play jazz flute for all eternity."

Hades let out a bark of delight. "So you do know that pack of no-good do-nothings!" Those eyes lingered on him, this time looking past the blond hair and jaded symmetry of his face to consider the brain that lay within.

He wrinkled his nose. "Alright kid, you've got yourself a deal." Ganymede thrust his hand forward to shake, for once his hooded eyelids opening wide. Hades tutted at him, raised a finger, and wagged it at him. "Ah-ah-ah. I'll agree to keep you up here, but until I know what this info is worth... let's just say I'm still figuring out the capacity of your employment."

Ganymede's hand curled back to his front as he sneered, "'Employment'?"

"What are you, a free-loader?" He gave a tut. "Millenials. Sure, you've got something I want, but don't forget-" He spread his arms wide, gesturing to the vastness of the tomb they both sat within. "- I still have all the power here."

Chewing on the inside of his lip, Ganymede's face twisted into a look of disgust. It only spread the grin wider on Hades' own. "Don't be such a sore loser, kid. It doesn't look good on you."

"Zeus kidnapped me and took me to Mount Olympus," Ganymede snapped, beating back the silence with one solid swing. Hades' eyebrow rose higher. "Stuck me in the middle of that stupid outdoor-palace thing of his and had me hold his beer while the rest of the gods just hung around doing nothing all day-"

"Sounds accurate."

"- said it was a 'career opportunity'," Ganymede's voice sped up, "that there'd be 'immortality in it for me' if I stuck it out, that I'd gotten lucky and that it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance and-" It was then that his throat closed up, the words bit back against his teeth, and the silence flooded back in.

Hades sat in his throne, his arms folded, tapping his cheek with a claw. That tapping paused. The kid had turned even greener, shaking with either rage or something else, and when the implications dawned on him he had to swallow back on a retch. Nevertheless, out unfurled one of his hands as he replied with a single word;

"Evidence?"

Ganymede's hand snapped to the empty sheath of his dagger, then patted down his tunic a second time in useless panic. "E-evidence?" he croaked.

"Hey kid, I believe you!" Hades said. "No doubt in my mind that what you're spinning is totally above-board and definitely not just some lie to keep yourself from getting thrown into the river. It'd be pretty stupid to lie to the guy in charge around here, right?" He leant forward with a half-cocked, thinning grin. "But nobody else is gonna believe you unless you give me something to work with." Tilting his head, he cooed, "He send you any letters? Leave any poems behind?"

Ganymede reared like a snake, his face twisting further into a look of vicious hatred that left him barely human. Hades waved it away. "Don't look at me like that. What'd you think I'm gonna do with a half-baked accusation like this? Right now? With my reputation? Which, you may have noticed, is in a pretty precarious position right now, even if I am known for my thorough and high-quality service."

"I-"

"But hey," Hades smiled humourlessly and raised up his fingers to summon something with a click. "Thanks for playing."

"No! Wait!" Ganymede thrust out his hands. "I have evidence!"

Hades paused. "Hm?"

Ganymede splayed out his fingers, begging for a few more seconds to speak. "Back in the mortal world! But, and I don't know if this has ever occurred to you, I can't exactly bring it with me! It's up there!" He jabbed a finger above his head. Hades unwittingly followed the gesture, then looked back down at him. That smile returned. This time it was pleased.

"Tell you what." He rose to his feet and crossed the room. Though Ganymede withdrew, Hades slung an arm around his shoulders. "Maybe it's that innocent twinkle in your eyes or the pleasing cadence of your voice, but I'm feelin' generous." The kid bristled. He pulled back, gave the guy some space, and laid out his terms.

"You work for me, alright? I could use another minion since my last one took a year out for her honeymoon with Wonderboy. I say 'jump', you ask 'how high', you clean out the dog, run a pool skimmer through my koi pond out there, maybe I send you on a couple of runs to the mortal world for shwarma."

"And the catch?" Ganymede asked.

Hades smirked. "Smart kid. The catch is that... well, you see..." He templed his fingers. "I'm not really in the business of protection - this is a legitimate operation I'm running down here. You can stay for all eternity, make yourself at home, I won't toss you in the drink, but if Zeus comes lookin' for you..." He saw Ganymede's heart sink. "Hey, I'm collecting that finder's fee. I'm not your babysitter."

Ganymede sank back down onto his stool. His thin shoulders sank as tendrils of hair fell across his face, and for a moment he stared out into the middle distance with bottomless exhaustion. The silence didn't creep in - it didn't need to be so timid. It swept, blanketing over everything, and as he gazed at nothing that nothingness stretched around them in every direction. The rocks dripped, the halls moaned like the softest, lowest bassoon, and the strings of the River Styx sang their own dirge. And yet nothing made any sound at all.

But the cogs still turned in his head. "I'll take your deal," he said, voice coarse, "I'll work for you, but on one condition." He pushed himself up again and stood before the god of the dead. He set his jaw and raised his sneering face. "That evidence still belongs to me. If you think it's valuable, you're gonna have to make another deal to get hold of it."

Another grin split Hades' face. "Well why not? Who doesn't love a little overtime?" Nevertheless, he gave Ganymede an honour that very few mortals had ever received before - he paused. For one final second, he studied the boy in front of him and tried to get a gauge on exactly what he knew, and exactly what he had. However, no matter which way he looked at it, the power still lay entirely with him and power, lately, was a commodity he couldn't afford to squander.

He held out his hand. Puffing out his chest, Ganymede reached for it.

They slapped their palms together. A force shot down his arm as their grip erupted with light. The paralysis forced his teeth to grit and his legs to lock, but Hades kept him upright by force. "Welcome to your new uniform, kid."

His rough tunic blackened in a curl of smoke as the same angular pattern on Hades' collar unfurled along the bottom hem. Its rope belt spun into black cloth and a brooch clamped itself to the drape over his chest. Hades let him drop to unsteady feet. "We don't have benefits and the pay ain't great either." Ganymede staggered upright with a shaking breath. Glancing down, he plucked the pin from his clothes.

"What's this?" he asked, "An angry cupcake?"

"It's a skull!" Hades waved his hand towards the exit. "Now go! And take the boys with you - I don't want you getting any big ideas that mean I've got to answer for a zombie walking around Greece again. Capiche?"

Their eyes locked. Both their mouths spread into distasteful and uneasy grins as both realised, with growing displeasure, that they weren't looking into the eyes of an easy mark.

Ganymede replied, "Capiche."

"So, what's the evidence?" Panic asked as they mounted the hill. Three pairs of sandals crunched dirt underfoot, two pairs far smaller than the third. A scrappy little boy with straw-coloured hair and a fat brunette followed behind the skirt of Ganymede's tunic, the two imps in disguise even under the thin light of the moon. Their voices were only slightly less grating in these new forms - doleful, meandering and gummed up with childhood.

"A cup," Ganymede replied. "Now be quiet - I don't want anyone waking up and recognising me."

On the crest of the hill sat a cluster of peasant houses, whose foundations bent over the curvature of the high ground and looked out to the eastern horizon. Orchards scattered over the wide, dry plains rolling beneath them, the trees unfenced and vulnerable to the creeping wilderness. Most houses had lamps flickering in the windows, but these would be snuffed as soon as chores were done - the families inside could not afford to burn them all night.

"Why don't you just let us do it?" the fat little boy asked.

"Because," Panic answered for him, "Why would he trust us with it? Hades won't even consider holding up his end of the deal without it."

"We're completely trustworthy!" said Pain.

"Only because you don't have any reason to screw me over," Ganymede replied in a low drawl as he ducked behind a wall. Eyes yellow and skin glowing green in the moonlight, he peered down the street. "Yet."

Pain shrugged as both he and Panic tucked in behind him. "Fair enough."

Their silhouettes rolled over the hill, the shadows of the two imps stretching to demonic and far more accurate proportions as they ducked behind walls, bushes and barrels. Despite the late hour, there were people wandering the settlement with lamps held high, women clutching shawls to their chests as their husbands readied weapons.

"What's going on?" Panic hissed. Ganymede shook his head.

"No idea," he said. "Guess my old neighbourhood's gone to Hell." Then he paused, bright eyed for a moment, and glanced between the two imps. "Right? Get it?" They didn't seem to hear him as they continued creeping forward, and his expression dropped. "Whatever."

Doors were opening, their occupants emerging with torches held high above their heads. Murmuring spread as parties of two, three and four clustered together, exchanging plans for search parties or a full-on assault as a few fleet-footed young boys were sent to spread the news. What news this was, none of them could make out. Ganymede's brow furrowed as three men with tanning knives and hand scythes stomped past the crate he had pressed himself behind.

"Maybe you can go ask?" Pain whispered, nudging Ganymede in the ribs. "You know these people."

"Me?!" Ganymede shoved the child off of him. "No way!" Panic huffed some straw-coloured hair from his face.

"Yeah... something tells me you weren't exactly Mr. Popular around here."

Switching from Pain to Panic, knuckles tightening, he snapped, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You don't really strike me as a people-person."

"I'll strike you in a second!"

"See?"

"Oh, okay!" Ganymede gave them a hate-filled smile, his eyes widening at them, his hushed voice taking on a sort of appalled humour. "Okay! You wanna go? Let's go!"

"Shh!!

The howls of domestic dogs picked up, one after the other, in a ghostly chorus. All three boys dove for a line of shrubs and crammed themselves down into the dirt.

"Cleope." a man's voice, muffled by the closed door, came from a nearby shack. "Let those hounds out, would you? If anything's really out there, they'll see 'em off."

His wife's voice replied, "Really, Arlo? I don't want those poor things getting torn apart."

"Better them than our girls," came the reply. "Besides, that shepherd boy ain't coming back for 'em." The door rattled, as did a bouquet of chains thick enough to rope a chariot. Ganymede's head lifted, his anger dropping away with a quiet flicker of hope.

Barking as deep and deadly as a rolling gong drowned out the unlatching of five iron collars. Ganymede crept forward on his hands and knees, watching the shack's door as that hope burned stronger. He dared to smile as the imps cowered back. And then five sets of frothing teeth burst into the night air.

"Run!!" screeched Panic.

"Wait, what?!" Ganymede whipped around as the imp bolted from the foliage, sticks like hard pokers flying in every direction. Ganymede scrambled after him, hands grasping for dirt and branches until his momentum swung him upright. Sensing the flight of prey animals, five huge, black, heavy-toothed dogs hit the ground in a stampede

Ganymede tumbled down the hill. "Stop, you idiots!" he shrieked over his shoulder, "Don't you recognise me?!" Bouncing and rolling along beside him, Pain cried,

"Those monsters are yours?!"

Panic's voice came from up ahead, punctuated by the rat-at-at of his sandals, "Then call them off!"

"They're not listening to me!"

The Molossian dogs had been bred for survival in the harshest mountains that wrecked the harshest landscape of the known world. The anatomical form of their muscles bulged from beneath the short fur of their bodies, but that fur grew into a mane around their necks to dull the teeth of wolves, bears and whatever other hideous monsters might try to make off with a shepherd's flock. Each one of them was large enough to fight a bull and win.

"Talos! Laelaps! Heel! Down!" Ganymede hit the bottom of the hill and flew for the boughs of a rough cypress tree. He wrapped around it like a sling, hands and feet slapping to the wood, and hoisted the curve of his spine up and away from three sets of barking, foaming jaws. Two more mouths joined them as two more bodies dove into the tree. Panic's gangly body scurried up as high as it could go, while Pain wrapped his arms around a lower branch and wailed.

"What's their problem with us?!" The tree shook, dry leaves bursting from the canopy as all three yelled in fear. The biggest dog slammed its front paws onto the trunk and howled.

"They can smell the Underworld!" Panic cried, appearing upside down from the higher branches. Then he added, sneering in Pain's direction, "Probably on you."

Looking down at their thrashing heads, they looked nothing like the soft-mouthed, soppy-eyed puppies Ganymede remembered from life. Unwelcome sentiment roiled in his stomach as each one - identical in build and colour, but one with a longer snout, one with blue eyes, one with a missing tooth - brought forth memories of nuzzles and safety hidden beneath their bristling fur. He crushed it all down, using his own devastation as a fist. None of it mattered anymore.

He swung himself upright, with a flash of leg kicking his feet up and away from those teeth. Eyes ablaze, hair wild, he cried, "That's enough!" Grabbing his left shoulder with his right arm, he ripped it off.

Pain and Panic kept shrieking as the largest dog smashed its heavy paws against the tree. Ganymede gripped the branch tight between his thighs and swung his disembodied left arm high above his head.

"Hey! Argos!"

The big dog's ears swivelled to him. Ganymede's loose arm waved. "You want the stick?!" Craning his body as far back as he dared to go, he flung his arm as hard as he could. It whipped over the fields and vanished into the darkness.

Argos raced after it. The rest of the pack surged after their leader, their howls fading off into the mountains, and whether they survived the wolves, the monsters, or whatever else had spooked the villagers so much, was none of his business anymore.

Ganymede's sandals hit the ground, followed by those of Pain and Panic. He stomped back up the hill, swinging the one fist he still had, muttering a litany of dark curses.

As they skittered some distance behind him, Panic muttered to Pain through closed teeth, "He's... a little intense." Pain gave him a philosophical nod in return.

"Trojans."