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“His soul had yet to leave his body,” Hades said, straightening, which made everything far more horrific. It wasn’t unusual for souls to abandon their body during surprise attacks to escape the brunt of the trauma that would inevitably be inflicted on them. But Adonis hadn’t escaped it, which meant his soul was just as battered as his body. It also meant there was nothing they would learn from him in the afterlife—he would be too distressed to help.

A small part of Hades wondered if Adonis’s attackers had known that. He found it strange that so much had worked in their favor—the cameras, for instance, and the fact that no one heard this horrific attack happening. It all seemed too orchestrated, like they’d had some kind of divine intervention.

“Apollo!” Hades called, hoping his summons worked.

“Why call on him?” Aphrodite asked.

Hades met her bloodshot gaze. Now he noticed her anger.

“We need to know exactly how he died,” said Hades. “I do not trust that this was just a few jealous mortals.”

“What else could it be?”

“I don’t know,” Hades admitted, and he couldn’t really explain why he cared so much about figuring this out. He did not like Adonis, but he did like Aphrodite, despite her meddling, and it worried him that someone close to her had been killed. This was a violation.

“What is it?” Apollo yawned, appearing in the cold night dressed only in a floral robe. When he ceased to rub his eyes and glanced at the ground, he lifted a foot. “Eww. Whatisthat?”

“A body, Apollo,” Hades said flatly.

“Gross,” the God of Light said, and yet he approached and bent over it, studying it closely.

“I need you to conduct an autopsy,” Hades said. “We need to know how he died.”

“Well, I can assure you the fact that he was beaten to a pulp did not help his case.”

“Apollo,” Hades growled, annoyed by his sarcasm. “This man was one of Aphrodite’s favored.”

Apollo straightened, and his head snapped toward the Goddess of Love, pale with understanding.

“Oh,” he said. “Fuck.”

“Yes, fuck,” said Hades.

Apollo frowned and turned his attention to the body again. His feet were bare, and he did not seem to mind that he was standing in Adonis’s pooled and coagulated blood.

Hades was not certain what the god was doing, but after a few moments, he reached for something near the body and held it up. It looked like the handle of a knife.

“I imagine I’ll find quite a few stab wounds.”

Hades turned to Aphrodite. It was hard to say how to move forward from here. Did they warn her favored mortals of the attack and risk it leaking to the media? It was one thing for the favored to be murdered—attacks were not unheard of—but it was another thing entirely for it to happen so close to a divine establishment.

“I do not think it would be an exaggeration to say this was likely done by the Impious,” said Hades. Whether they were associated with Triad was another story.

Impious did not worship the gods. Some lived quietly in their rejection of cult practices, while others were farmore extreme, choosing violent methods as a way to attack the gods. Some had organized under the official banner of Triad, a group that touted a belief in fairness, free will, and freedom despite terrorizing numerous mortals in their quest for said freedom.

Now, they claimed to be peaceful protesters, though Hades believed otherwise. But one thing worked in their favor, and that was the chaos caused by anyone who had forsaken the gods.

“Protect those in your circle, Aphrodite,” said Hades. “I think they want your wrath.”

“Why would anyone want my wrath?” she asked, her fair fingers curled into fists.

“To illustrate a point.”

“Whatpoint, Hades?”

“That a god’s favor truly means nothing,” he said.

CHAPTER VI