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All right, let's get the basics out of the way.

My name is Agnes, but I prefer to go by Aggie.

It sounds more fun and less like a withered old nun.

I do not like nuns—we'll talk about it later.

Despite my dislike of religious women, I'm a good soul.

No, really; it's a proven fact. I used to be neutral (neutral-good and sometimes neutral-bad), but I got better.

Now, I live in the Blessed Isles. There's no greater proof of goodness than residence in the Greek Underworld's most elite neighborhood for the annoyingly nice souls.

I looked around my new digs as I leaned back in the most comfortable chair in existence and lifted a gold goblet to my lips.

Not golden, mind you. Gold. Only the finest cups for me.

And the stuff in my cup wasn't too shabby either.

Underworld wine, made from the grapes of wrath—just kidding, the soul of Gandhi (a bit of a lush, that one) grows the grapes—was so magnificent that it brought my non-existent tastebuds to life.

I didn't have any buds—taste or otherwise—because I was dead.

And a bit of a bitch. So, no physical body and no friends to hang with.

All my new neighbors were a bunch of prudes who smiled too big and spoke in tones that made me want to punch them in their soul-faces.

I had a friend once. We'd been very close—read-each-other's-thoughts close.

Mainly because I possessed her. Not in some weirdo hippie way, either.

I mean that I escaped Hades and stole control of Wren's body.

Yes, literal ghostly possession. So, I could read her thoughts because I was in her head.

And don't get all bent out of shape about it.

I was a good occupant. I helped that girl.

You have no idea. She was Miss Wilting Wallflower before I took over.

I made her hot and rich. And Wren loved me.

I know she did. It was one of the last things I heard before my soul died. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I looked into the crimson liquid and lowered my cup.

I loved Wren too. It went against all my rules.

Love only gets you in trouble. But it's hard not to get to know someone when you're literally inside them and can hear every thought they have.

And Wren had good thoughts. She was nice.

Like, truly nice. Which is why my possession of her turned into a sort of partnership.

Then that partnership turned into friendship—real friendship based on respect and affection.

And wouldn't you know it, loving Wren made me do something really fucking dumb.

Still, doing that dumb thing had landed me here, in my fancy house.

Yeah, it shocked the shit out of me too.

So, what was that dumb thing I did? Well, let me tell you all about it.

First, let's talk about Cerberus. Or rather, Cerberuses.

Cerberus isn't a single monster dog with three heads.

Rather, a Cerberus is a team of three shapeshifting men who can take hound form.

However, they could merge like a Scooby-Doo monster and become one giant, three-headed dog like the myth.

But they saved that for special occasions.

Usually, they shapeshifted into separate canine forms so they could go ghostly.

Why turn into ghost dogs? So they could physically interact with ghosts.

There are tons of Cerberuses stationed all over the world, tasked with protecting humans from ghosts.

A Cerberus team's primary job is to collect souls who had gotten lost on the way to the Underworld or who had escaped it.

Yes, like me.

I was one of those rare souls who escaped the Underworld and eluded Hades. For a little while. Then a Cerberus yanked me out of Wren and took me back to the Underworld. That was traumatic to say the least. Especially for Wren, I imagine. The poor girl can't manage without me.

Anyway, back then, when the hound tore me out of Wren, my soul went to the Asphodel Fields—a sort of neutral area in the Underworld.

As I mentioned earlier, it's extremely boring.

There aren't even houses there. It's just a big field that souls wander around all day.

Oh, look at that flower. Oh, there's another.

Ugh! I'd rather be tortured in Tartarus.

Asphodel is where you go when you're not evil, but you don't go around ministering to people with the plague either.

Most souls end up there. Honestly, I wouldn't rather be in Tartarus.

Tartarus was nasty. So I was kinda relieved to end up in Boringville after my little Wren-puppet trick.

Hades had been nice. Don't tell him I said that.

As glad as I was that I wasn't somewhere truly awful, I still couldn't appreciate the Asphodel Fields.

Because they're fucking boring. Did I mention that? So, there I was, moping about the boring fields with their boring flowers and boring souls when I saw Wren. This was shocking for several reasons. First, she was still alive, and Hades didn’t allow living humans into Hades (Hades, as in the Underworld, not the god).

Second, it was Wren. My Wren. And third, she was in trouble.

That last one wasn't as surprising as the others.

Wren couldn't function without me. Of course, she was in trouble.

Duh. And leave it to her to get in trouble with Centaurs.

Gods damn Centaurs—savage horse-men who cantered around the Underworld showing off their horse penises while looking for people to fuck with those giant dicks.

Not a lot of options for them since the horse-women were a bunch of bitches.

And Centaurs couldn't fuck souls. They were alive.

Their big cocks would go right through a soul.

But a living woman? Now, that was doable.

It would probably kill her, but what did they care?

So, living, breathing, fuckable Wren must have looked like Christmas morning to them. Typical Wren to wind up like that.

I helped her of course. And I did it without telling Wren who I was. You know, 'cause I'm so selfless. It was only at the last second when that bitch-monster Hydra was tearing my soul to pieces that I gave Wren a clue to my identity.

I shouted, “Buck up, Buttercup!”

It was something I used to say to Wren a lot.

She could be a wuss. She wasn't being a wuss then, though.

My girl had been brave, running across a monster-guarded bridge to get her man back.

See what I mean about love? Anyway, Wren, that smarty pants, instantly figured out who I was. Then she bawled her eyes out.

“That was so sweet.” I sighed, coming out of my memories.

“I hope Hades told Wren I ended up here because of my great, selfless sacrifice.” I looked around.

“It's nice. Everything I could want. I've got yummy food, beautiful clothes, and a house made of diamonds. Motherfucking diamonds.” I shook my head.

“Damn Greeks. They sure know how to do luxury.

I'll give them that. Does it make up for all their bad behavior? Eh.” I shrugged.

“Who can say?” I took another sip of wine and decided that it did.

“You don't seem to be happy, Agnes,” someone said.

I jerked upright, nearly spinning my wine, and gaped at my visitor.

And not just because of his sudden appearance.

He was super sexy in a bad boy kinda way, with tousled dark hair and golden-brown eyes the color of honey.

A dark limbal ring enhanced that light shade, keeping it from disappearing into the whites of his eyes.

Then he stepped forward into a shaft of sunlight, and it set his irises to glowing as if to remind me he wasn't just a man.

And not a dead man, either. Nope, this was the man in charge of all the dead men.

The dead women too, for that matter. Standing in my sparkly living room was the Lord of the Underworld himself.

Hades of Hades. A god so literally hot and powerful that they named his territory after him.

Nobody cared that it was confusing. People generally lost all train of thought when faced with Hades anyway.

As I did.

“Agnes?” Hades prompted.

“Uh, sorry.” I set my gold cup down, jumped to my feet, and bowed. “Welcome to my home, Lord Hades. Would you, uh, like some wine?”

“No, I'm good.” Hades looked me over.

I lifted my brows at his modern vernacular. I mean, why not? I was an old soul, as they say, and I had quickly caught the vibe on my last visit topside. Although, I tended to mix the lingo from different times. That happens when you've lived multiple lives.

“Would you care to sit down?” I asked.

“Agnes, I have an offer for you.” Hades sat down, taking the chair on my left.

I sat down slowly, waiting for him to continue.

“As you likely know, souls who earn a place in the Blessed Isles are entitled to a reward.” He waved his divine hand at me. And yes, even his hand was sexy. “You're welcome to stay here forever or you could return to a new life with magic. Magic or another boon.”

“Another boon?” I snorted. It didn't matter that I did that shit myself. I had to tease him about it. “Pick a century, buddy.” Then I remembered who I was talking to. “Oh, shit. I mean, uh, please, go on, Lord Hades.”

Hades leaned forward. “I'm willing to make your new body myself, in whatever form you wish, and send you back to Earth fully grown.”

“I . . . what?”

“Wouldn't you like that? You'd have all your memories intact. There would be no cleansing of your past. You could view the world completely as yourself, with the knowledge you've gained over all your lifetimes. You could even visit Wren.”

“I could?” I whispered.

“You miss her, don't you?”

“Yeah. A little. I mean, I'm mostly worried about the kid. She's useless without me.”

Hades nodded. “What do you say?”