Page 23 of The Prince of Hidden Shadows (Runaway Prince Hotel #5)
Chapter Seventeen
MY DEMONS
Zagreus
I step into the dim, cool embrace of the Underworld, the change in the air palpable.
Cerberus bounds towards me as I reach the threshold to my quarters, his three heads vying for my attention, whining and nudging at me. My stride falters, my heart skips a beat, and my face brightens—finding him away from his usual post at the Underworld’s gates is as rare as sunlight here.
“Missed me, huh?” I scratch behind his far-left ear—his favorite spot—and his massive tail slaps the polished obsidian floor, making a pedestal teeter and an ancient urn wobble.
“Careful, boy,” I mutter, bracing a hand against his chest to nudge him off, though he barely yields an inch.
Calling Cerberus a boy is the understatement of eternity.
His sheer presence is crafted to unnerve, to freeze wandering souls in place, to make certain the dead remain and the living think twice about trespassing.
But with me, he’s all warmth and weight and pressing need for affection.
I was the one who urged Hades to take him on when a true guardian was needed for the gates of his realm. And despite the fearsome bulk, the triple maw, and the strength to crush a man in seconds, all six eyes shine with warmth and recognition reserved just for me.
Who dares to say that dogs couldn’t speak? Cerberus doesn’t need words—his actions say more than any conversation.
When I mention Nathan and his glitch, his many ears flicker, but it’s when Théodore’s name slips out that his tail thumps faster against the floor and his gaze sharpens, locked on me with an unspoken understanding. My… fondness for the grumpy Frenchman seems to amuse him.
Petting him as he grunts, the heaviness of what lies ahead hangs over me, but Cerberus stays beside me, a silent anchor. After a while, he steps back, brushes each snout against my hand, then returns to his duty, and so do I.
Minutes later, the muffled patter of my suede loafers on the floor accentuates the silence that rules my quarters—a peace that I cherish, though most refuse to respect it. Again and again, intruders force their way in, unleashing a tumult worthy of the River Styx’s banks.
Toeing my shoes off by the entryway, I shrug out of my jacket as well and heave a contented sigh.
My mind goes straight back to my lover—the last glimpse of his face and the grip of his fingers on mine before I turned away this morning. Nobody’s made me this since…
I purse my lips, hoping it’ll redirect my troubled thoughts.
Drawing a comparison wouldn’t be fair. I’m convinced—if not well-aware—that they are one and the same.
That’s why Théo should be more mindful of the state of his soul; otherwise, I’ll lose him again, and I can’t allow it. Must be why I’ve failed to soothe the persistent pang in my chest.
As I move deeper into my quarters, Charon’s voice greets me before I see him. The corner of my mouth quirks up. My occasional former lover is welcome here—but entering uninvited isn’t typical.
“Zagreus.” His tone is light but probing. “How long have you been gone? I wondered if you were coming come back. Weren’t you due to report sooner?”
I open my arms and engulf him in a hug, to which he stiffens until I release him from my embrace.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” I reply, offering a tight smile.
He studies me with his dark, perceptive eyes, the faint glimmer of the Styx reflected in them.
My father grants him few breaks from his role as ferryman—small respites in a cycle as endless and exhausting as Sisyphus’s toil.
They hold the simmering madness at bay without pulling Charon from his purpose.
A pointless one at that… My friend once confessed his boat moves on its own.
He says he deserves his fate; we all have burdens to bear, and I’m not privy to his penance.
“You’re different,” he points out, tilting his head. “Lighter, almost. Care to explain?”
“It’s nothing,” I rush to say, shrugging off his inquiry as I register why the hug threw him for a loop—too human.
“It’s someone,” he counters—his tone soft—then smirks. “Isn’t it?”
Replaying our last encounter, I realize Charon didn’t witness who Eros struck when he loosed that invisible arrow at me.
How could we have been so blind?
The irony isn’t lost on me—my duty is to guide souls through the Valley of the Hidden Shadows without exceptions.
Until Eros stepped into my affairs many lifetimes ago, certain it was the right course.
I had no choice but to follow, no choice but to coax one soul to linger by my side. And I fell. Hard.
Someone…
I’m the coward here, clinging to the path of least resistance. And now it feels too good to trust…
My soulmate—returned.
I never believed that another human could bear the same soul I cherish. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
“There’s no room for that in my life,” I snap, my voice cold while my insides burn with acid.
I’m such an asshole for misleading Charon when I’m a master of contradictions and nonsense.
After all, I put him and Hecate at risk for my own egotistical benefit.
In the name of our friendship, Charon interfered with the natural order of life and death, allowing me to postpone the journey of Willem’s soul: back to his human form, we would spend a lifetime together, until death do us part. His, that is.
Willem taught me to live. To paint. To love.
Once upon a time, meeting him remade me.
Losing him hollowed me out. The grief, the despair, the certainty of his doomed fate drove me to my knees.
If Father had seen me begging Hecate for mercy, stripped of pride and dignity, he would never have forgiven me.
I implored. She pitied me. We sealed a deal.
In sparing me another opportunity of crossing paths that soul again and tweaking my memory, she broke the law of the gods, but preserved my sanity.
That was then, this is now.
Discussing my love life with Charon—of all people—rings wrong. When it came up ages ago, the bastard called me a fool. Our on-again, off-again thing is over—ended the second I clicked with Théo’s soul. One day, I’ll have to come clean, but today isn’t that day.
He’s no fool, and maybe he does have a point. Over the years, as ferryman, he must have noticed Willem’s soul’s absence. How could it not resurface for its final crossing?
He knew how dear Willem had been to me, how precious his soul remained even after part of the spell lifted and his body finally failed.
Charon must have understood it had been barred from the Underworld by a goddess’s hand.
To me, it was as if my mortal lover’s soul had been erased, our bond severed beyond repair.
Then Théo’s unexpected journey to the Underworld crushed that certainty.
It stirred Eros’s memory of my connection to this particular human soul. At least, that was his explanation back at the Renversé Hotel. My heart, and the soul I do not possess, would always belong to one man.
“Nonsense… fine,” Charon mutters, willing to drop the issue. “Well, in that case, Hades is waiting for you in your chambers. Unusual, isn’t it?” His words are loaded, and I don’t miss the sly twist of his mouth. “Good luck.”
My bedroom door creaks open, revealing the sanctuary I carved out for myself here: dark wood, flickering lanterns casting golden light, and shelves lined with books I bought during my previous trip to Earth but have yet to finish.
Charon warned me, so why does the blood rush through my veins when I see him ?
Seated in a high-backed chair near the eternal fire, Hades doesn’t budge, his countenance as unreadable as ever.
Unease prickles up my spine. Sucking in a breath as any human would do without a second thought, I gather all of my willpower and say in an even voice, “Father.”
Relax, Zag, you don’t have daddy issues; he is a difficult, overbearing, and mercurial being.
Frowning, he shoots daggers at me. Why didn’t I fathom that my utterly human trait would rub salt in an open wound? After all, he doesn’t venture here—not unless something’s off.
“I was beginning to wonder whether you'd renounced your home.” Hades’s voice is low and steady, but his authority unmistakable. No wonder I’ve tried to elude it. “Why haven’t you returned sooner?”
I cross my arms, leaning against the doorframe.
“You sent me out there to fix things. I did… with the help of Nathan Price, that is. Remember him?” Why would he, though?
His blank expression confirms my suspicion.
“The mortal who showed up uninvited. The mortal who’s friends with the potent witch.
The mortal who clued us in on a much larger threat regarding a big bad witch.
That’s why I asked Hecate to step in. It’s dealt with now.
Period.” Nathan’s involvement in Théo’s theft is swept under the nonexistent rug, which doesn’t prevent him from scrunching his face.
Why should I care that he doesn’t appreciate my tone?
“I believe I’m missing the point of your visit, Father. ”
“The mission I assigned you wasn’t meant to be an extended vacation. And now Hecate is missing as well. Gods are not meant to befriend mortals .” Contempt. Bewilderment. Disapproval. I refuse to avert my eyes.
“She’ll be back,” I reply tersely. “Told you, the threat is gone. For now, both of them are busy ensuring that the balance between good and evil prevails. They’re tying up loose ends.”
Dropping the subject, he strikes back, though. “Good, the threat is gone. Then why are you delayed?” He knows, doesn’t he?
My heart drops.
Of course, he does. Hades always knows.
“That’s none of your concern, Father.”
Hades rises, his presence unyielding. “Everything is my concern.” His tone is collected but cuts deeper than a blade. “Don’t think you’ve fooled me for one second. You’re playing a dangerous game, Zagreus.”
“I’m not a child,” I snap, my voice rising despite myself. “You don’t get to dictate every part of my life.”