“Healthy handful?” I sputter.
“All right, all right.” He rolls his eyes. “How about a robust roster?”
“How about something we’ll come back to later?” After trying to skim the extensive list, I hurriedly flip the page. “What else?”
“This is the stuff I connected to Elysium,” he supplies, “which is technically a section of the underworld but likely not under Hades’s direct jurisdiction. Your boy Dante was one of the few who believed otherwise. It’s also called the White Island and is commonly known as a paradise exclusively for war heroes and virtuous soldiers.”
“So we can probably put this one in the skip file.”
“Figured you’d say that.” As I turn the page, he sighs. “Au revoir, Bora Bora. Aloha, Kapalua Bay.”
“Saving it, not burning it,” I defend. “I’ve just added it to the bucket list.”
In my own head, I think about stretching out with Kara on one of those exotic stretches of sand—with our clothes conveniently stowed somewhere else. It’s the motivation I need to face the next page, a crowded mess that matches the first.
“Next, Tartarus,” Jesse goes on. “The bottommost wasteland of hell. Aka, the great cosmic pit. It’s lightless and deep, supposedly deeper down than the pit of hell itself. It has either iron gates or ironlike reinforcements, with snakes as guardians. Scientifically speaking, that means it’s a—”
“Cave,” we state in unison.
I feel my face tighten as a mirror of his scowl.
I lift the sheet and groan when surveying the second page of his list.
He tics a fast nod. “Those pages are only the caverns above sea level, though I broke out the criterion in two ways. The deepest that are naturally formed take up a good portion of the list. But the iron factor gnawed at me. If it’s ore we’re looking for, Australia’s the obvious leader on that board. There are also extensive pits in Brazil, China, Russia—”
“So what’s this second list on these other two pages?” Moving him on is the only way of saving myself from the research avalanche. “The reject pile?”
Jesse shakes his head. “Those are the underwater caves.”
A heavy sigh rolls out of me. Despite all my best efforts, my mind’s already fissuring like mud in the sun, and there’s still more content to go.
I remind myself, in lecture-stern terms, that I was the one to call Jesse in the first place. I asked for this, knowing my friend was going to go full nerdcore on all the research. I’ll be thankful for all this…eventually.
“So what’s on all the rest of the pages, then?”
“Miscellaneous theories,” he supplies. “Various places and a few phenomena that don’t fit the other labels but might actually be what we’re looking for. Like the Maracaibo lightning patterns, the Darvaza Gas Crater, and the Kamchatka volcanoes. Worth noting but too obvious, right?”
“Oh, yeah.” I’m mockingly indulgent, already knowing he won’t care or notice. Sure enough, he doesn’t.
“But the others should be considered. The Danakil Depression…that’s a special kind of environmental nasty. And Snake Island, Madidi National Park, the Gomantong Caves? Interesting, but likely in the trying-too-hard column, as well.”
“And you thought volcanoes were too obvious?”
He fwips the rubber hand at the window again. One of the fingers glows for a second, picking up a sliver of sunlight. I can’t promise a full cloud break yet, but just talking about all these potential plans has cleared my mind to a better place.
“This is all amazing, man.” The words come straight from my heart. “Honestly.”
The words feel, and are, pathetically thin for expressing my gratitude. First of all, the guy didn’t speed out of here the second I hit him with the truth about Kara and me. Secondly, he’s not relented on his research since then. We’ve literally been at this all day. Though the sun is finally making a shy appearance outside, it’ll be setting in less than an hour.
“Pffft.” His dismissal is thick with sarcasm but diluted by a limp-armed stretch. “Make it even. Order me some pizza and wings, sugar bunch.”
“Done deal, sweet cheeks,” I drawl, pulling up the delivery app on my phone.
While we wait on dinner, Jesse reaches over and again spins the notepad around. “How are you proposing we winnow all this down?”
“You think I know?”
“One of us will have to make the call. Investigating every one of these will take years.”
“And we don’t even have days.”
Irritation and impatience are new nips at my heels. What do we do? How do we start to figure this out? Where do we separate reality from mythology?
Where the fuck has Hades taken half of my heart and soul?
Jesse’s face contorts as if he’s heard my inner tantrum. He leaves the table, rolling slowly across the living room. For a few long beats, he stares at the blank TV screen. “Just when I thought there was a tutorial or travelogue for everything…” A deep sigh blows in then out of him. “Then you had to go searching for an impossible roadmap to hell.” He mutters it while wheeling back around.
As soon as his words sink in, my head snaps up. My throat seizes tight. My heart kickboxes both my lungs. Just like before, Jesse’s picking up on every shred of it.
“What?” he charges. “Are they out of the good wing spice again?”
I shake my head. “Damn it, no,” I blurt. “A travelogue to hell…”
“You know where we can get one?” He snickers, half joking.
I stare back without blinking—because I’m not. “Maybe.”
“All right,” he says slowly. “Are we headed to Bora Bora or Hawaii for it? If so, count me in.”
“Neither.”
His face falls. “All right. Where, then?”
“Beverly Hills.”
Chapter Three
Kara
“Not right now.” I utter the refusal as softly as I can manage.
I can’t deny the pieces of me that thirst for more knowledge about Hades’s vast domain, if only because I’m holding out hope for possible escape routes, but touring the capital is the last thing I want to do right now. And perhaps the last thing I can bear.
Hades’s brows form a puzzled frown. “But there’s much to see.”
“I’m sure there is, but I’m very tired. Please…”
His voice softens a fraction. “Why have you not rested, Kara?”
Trying to explain my taxed emotional state to the god who caused it seems pointless, but the new concern in Hades’s expression tugs on my deep need to be heard and understood, even by my enemy. Meeting the dark warmth in his eyes, I wonder if somewhere in those depths he might be capable of empathy. If, despite my betrayal, we could share a moment of kindred understanding. Even better, could gazing into the mirror of his own kindness be exotic enough to satisfy his fascination with my abilities? But all other traces of hope have slipped through my fingers since I’ve been brought here. Why would this crazy notion be any different?