It was one reason he allowed it to continue, but not without oversight.
Hades and Hecate appeared before a large, metal building. A matching metal fence kept most of the building obscured from view, so it was impossible for outsiders to tell how large it was, but Hades knew it was extensive. Behind its facade as a mechanic shop was a business that received stolen goods, sold them, and moved them across New Athens, and it was all owned by Acacius.
“Charming,” Hecate said, but it was clear she was not impressed. She stood beside Hades, concealed in her black robes.
He glanced at her. “You look like Thanatos.”
“Better Thanatos than a greasy mortal,” she replied. “Why are you hiding anyway? You’re not one for dramatics outside your relationship.”
Hades glowered. “I’d rather Acacius not realize he’s dealing with me until the last possible moment.”
The two entered the open gate. There were six garage doors, each open and occupied by a variety of cars. A few of the men who milled about in the lot stared openly, probably because Hecate looked like Thanatos.
Hades groaned inwardly.
“Can I help you?” A man approached, wiping his hands on an oil-stained towel. He was dressed in a blue button-up with the name Giorgos embroidered on the left pocket.
“Is Acacius here?” Hades asked.
“Who’s asking?”
Annoyance made his spine stiffen, and for a moment, he forgot he wore the skin of a mundane mortal. At the same time, Hades felt the energy shift between them. Hecate was casting a spell. The smell of her magic permeated the air, likely undetectable by the man opposite them. Hades could tell when the spell hit because the man’s expression shifted to friendly confusion.
“Sorry. Let me take you to him.”
Hades glanced at the goddess whose face he could not see beneath the hood she had pulled far over her head.
“What would you do without me?” she asked.
“Be far more inconspicuous,” Hades replied.
The garage felt humid and smelled like oil and gasoline, and while it was lit by rows of fluorescent lights, there were dark pockets throughout the warehouse-like shop. Hades imagined they concealed various illegal goods.
Now and then, the sounds of an engine revving or a car squealing interrupted the chatter of the workers.
Acacius was working under the hood of a red car. Hades recognized him even before Giorgos called out his name.
“You have visitors.”
Acacius kept his back to them, continuing to work beneath the hood of the car. He was taking his time to greet them. It was the behavior of a man who believed he had both time and power, and Hades supposed that, as of right now, that was still the case. Beside him, Hecate grew impatient, and when he felt her cast another spell, he gave her a warning look. He needed this to unfold as naturally as possible.
When Acacius finally straightened and turned to face them, he had a cigarette in his mouth, which he removed only to blow smoke in their direction. He was a round man with a swath of dark, curly hair. His lips were thin, and when he spoke, he revealed a set of uneven, oddly spaced teeth.
“I don’t return payment,” he said, then his eyes shifted to Hecate. “So you and your friend can go back the way you came.”
His soul was almost as unpleasant as his exterior, the only bright spot being the dedication he had to his family.
“I haven’t come to seek repayment,” Hades replied. “Your prediction was right.”
“So what? You want to strike another deal?”
“Of sorts,” Hades replied.
Acacius stared and was either smiling or scowling. Hades could not tell which. Acacius placed his cigarette in his mouth and spoke as he turned to close the hood of the car.
“Let me guess. Another horse race?”
“Not quite.”
The man turned, narrowing his oily eyes at Hades. He stepped closer and took the cigarette from his mouth. This time, he blew the smoke directly in Hades’s face.
“Your gambling habit is low on my priority list, got it? So unless you have something far more valuable to trade, I suggest you leave.”
Hades had already sensed that they were surrounded—the mechanics in the shop had formed a circle around him and Hecate.
“How adorable,” she said, her covered head moving from left to right.
“They’re trying to threaten us.”
“Shut your friend up,” Acacius said, poking his fingers in Hades’s face.
The best thing about this disguise and why Hades had wanted to wear it was that Acacius and his gang would underestimate him, which made the next few seconds more satisfying than ever.
The god snatched Acacius’s fingers and bent them back. A crisp, clear snapping sound preceded Acacius’s pained screams.
Simultaneously, his men jumped into action. Hecate whirled, throwing off her hood, sending a wave of magic through the air that halted everyone in their stride.
Hades stepped toward Acacius, who knelt on the ground, cradling his hand. As he approached, he smothered the mortal’s smoldering cigarette with his boot and knelt face-to-face with him. With his stern expression gone, Acacius looked younger—a boy playing a man’s game. Hades was about to show him just how unprepared he was to deal.
“Now, about that bargain.”
“Wh-who are you?”
At that question, Hades let his glamour fall away.
Acacius’s eyes widened, but he did not tremble, and Hades wasn’t sure if that was something to be respected or concerned about.
“Hades,” Acacius breathed his name, and the god rose to his feet. The mortal remained on the ground, lifted on his elbow so his bruised and broken fingers were visible. “What do you want?”
“Nothing too taxing,” Hades said. “Just your cooperation.”
Acacius made his way to his feet before he asked, “In exchange for what?”
He was a foot shorter than Hades, yet still managed to appear hardened and unafraid in the face of death.
“Let’s not pretend you have anything to bargain with,” Hades replied.
“We both know I could dismantle your empire with a snap of my fingers, so what will it be?”
“Depends on what you want from my cooperation.”
Hades stared, unamused. “The audacity,” he said, though he had expected this behavior. “I know you possess some kind of relic. Something that allows you to see the future. I want it.”
“That is a hefty price.”
“Give it to me, or I take it by force. Can you survive a bruised ego in this part of town?”
The answer was no, and Acacius knew it. His lips slammed into a hard line. “Follow me,” he said and turned to leave the garage.
Hades started to follow but paused when Hecate did not. “Are you coming?”
“No,” she said, a smile curling her lips. “I think I’ll stay.”
Acacius led him to an office inside the garage. It was lit with low, amber light, and as Hades entered, he noted several expensive furnishings, among them an ornately carved executive desk and accompanying leather chair, the back of which faced the door and a wall of windows, something Hades found odd. Usually, people of Acacius’s caliber did not sit with their backs to doors or windows for fear of assassination, but perhaps he felt comfortable in his own space.
Hubris, Hades thought.
Acacius moved behind the desk, removed a set of keys from his pocket with his uninjured hand, and opened one of the drawers. Hades watched him closely, not trusting that he wouldn’t try something stupid, like drawing a gun on him. While those weapons were known to be useless against gods, people still made the attempt. The last one to try was Sisyphus, and that had ended with the gun melted to his hand.
Instead, though, the mortal set a small box on the desk. It appeared to be a ring box, but what was inside surprised even Hades.
It was an eye.
“Is that what I think it is?” Hades asked.
“That depends on what you think it is,” said Acacius.
“You are wearing your chances thin.”