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Deadly Ghosts

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Summary

This is book 2 to the Underworld Series. This can be read as a stand alone, but will make slightly more sense if you read "Summoning Bones", book 1, first. There will be spoilers for book 1. Aderyn, a lost goddess with no memory of her past, wakes in the caring hands of Hades' daughter, Melinoe. She trains as her personal soldier for a selfish and cruel war of Hades' creation. Melinoe sets Aderyn on a mission to make Death fall in love with her to distract him from his personal vendetta, to kill Hades himself. When things go awry and Aderyn begins to fall for Death, her memories steadily resurface and her lust for blood grows as she discoverers who she was before her memory was wiped. Aderyn is stuck between Death and ghosts of the past and the Goddess of those ghosts, Melinoe. She must decide to keep herself as shy and timid or lose herself to the violence she was born from. Warning: this book is mature for violent and erotic scenes.

Status:
Ongoing
Chapters:
1
Rating:
5.0
Age Rating:
16+

An Age Old God

Death greets all, whether it be with a gentle kiss or long conversation. He will meet all at the final door, so when he enters the living realm, chaos ensues. Darkness breeds in joy, infecting it and spreading faster than the flames of passion. If not careful, his influence will spoil humanity forever.

The club hummed with life, lights, and laughter. Dancers displayed their flexibility and strength on poles sitting on stages in the center and corners of the room. Their outfits left little to the imagination, showing every curve. A bar pulsed with light that was on beat to the loud bass echoing over the constant flow of conversation where a bartender poured glamorous drinks. Patrons yelled encouragement at the dancers, littering their stages with bills. Security guards looked over the room for anyone who wasn't behaving, but with luxury is refinement and proper etiquette. No one would dare step out of line in a place so luxurious as The Python. The waiting list was years long with an entrance fee too steep to let go to waste over bad behavior. Only the richest of the wealthy were allowed beyond the doors.

How could they let anyone in? They would be seated with gods. Minor gods and goddesses of course, a muse here or there, and Death, leaning against a pillar in the corner of the room.

He looked over the room and the pitiful humans poisoning themselves with drinks. Although he couldn't complain, it made his job easier, and he could understand the appeal, but it took more than a human amount to make him feel anything. Even so, he held a crystal tumbled filled with a rich, amber liquid. His dark eyes looked over the room once more, focusing on one man in particular, Count Proditione. He lounged on a couch tucked into the farthest corner, reserved for the richest. There was typically a red, velvet curtain to hide them from public view, but being an egotistical man, the Count wanted to display his wealth for the club.

Dancers hung on his arms, laughing at whatever joke he had said. As they did, he slipped bills between their breasts. A private stage was set up in front of him, where a talented dancer swayed her hips and flashed him dazzling smiles as she climbed the pole in her sheer, black lingerie. He laughed with his friends, sipping champagne straight from the bottle. His piercing grey eyes focused on the dancer.

Death downed the rest of his drink and pulled himself off of the pillar. He wove through the room, passing rich men in suits and wealthy women in luxurious dresses. He set his empty glass on the bar. The bartender nodded while pouring bright blue shots for two dancers. Death walked to the Count's corner and stepped past the curtain onto the platform that separated the corner even more from the club.

Death stood before the Count, and was only noticed because he blocked his view to the dancer.

"What the hell?" He said indignantly. His friends stopped talking and looked over to the Count.

"This is a private booth, you'll have to leave," said the man next to the Count. He wore a sleek blue suit and white shirt, which had the top few buttons undone. The man on the other side snickered drunkenly, but Death shot him a scalding look, making him pale and quickly stop his insufferable laughter.

"Move," he ordered. The man squeaked and quickly shifted over. Both of the dancers leaped to their feet and left the platform. They scurried away to the bar.

"Wait, don't go," whined the man in the blue suit, but they didn't look back as Death sat himself beside the Count. All the men were silent, even the dancer on the stage had stopped to observe Death's actions. "Well, don't stop on my account, please continue. I need to speak to the Count."

The men looked to the Count, asking permission. With a curt nod, their conversation cautiously resumed and the dancer began to spin on the pole once more.

"What is it?" Snapped the Count.

"Not a very nice way to greet Death," he coo'd. The Count paled and determinedly stared forward where the dancer was upside on the pole.

"What do you want?" He said, much of his bravery vanishing.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Death said leaning forward and taking the bottle of Champagne from the man's clamy hands and took a sip before setting it on the table in front of the Count, "I have a proposition for you. You see, I've grown quite bored of the bloodshed, you know how it goes. Wake up, slice a throat, choke a man, fuck, then go to sleep. Same routine over and over. It gets, well, boring."

"How can I help you then? Money, I can give you some. Land? A title?" Stammered the Count, making Death force out a harsh laugh.

"No, no, nothing like that. I want a companion, a sidekick if you will. Someone to keep me company. I get so lonely," Death said, where he eagerly awaited the name he had hunted for months. The man enthusiastically nodded.

"Of course, I know a man with quite the collection-"

"His name?" Death said, his eyes glinted under the dark lights. Anticipation hummed in his veins as he felt his bloodlust grow under his skin. A prickling sensation on his back indicated his wings were pushing forward.

"Ádis Olímpion." Death smiled as rage fell over him and his heart began to hammer with greater anticipation of spilling that man's blood.

"Thank you, you've been quite helpful." Death rose, and adjusted his suit, letting his wings fall back into their hidden form. "Enjoy your night. And tip her more, or I'll have you kicked out." He motioned to the dancer who nodded her thanks. He left the speechless men and the still pale Count. He passed the bar once more, then wove to the back exit. Customers bounced to the music around him, knocking into him. He growled and quickly pushed his way through them. At the back of the club, cut off by a thick curtain, was a long hallway reserved for private dances and full service rooms. Walking by the golden doors, moans echoed through the hallway.

Finally, he stepped outside the club and breathed in the cold, night air. He had a name to a face. A face he'd seen for millennia before the Great Shift.

As the Greek pantheon died away and began to live their immortal years as if they were human, Thanatos was separated from his master, Hades, and as his bond of servitude broke, Death began to live his life.

He lived through the centuries, traveling, partying, and gaining wealth and prestige, but the betrayal of Hades simmered in his heart, growing into an obsession for revenge against the old gods. The feeling washed over him, eating him away as a caterpillar would an apple. So, Death traveled back to America where he decided to find Hades, and kill him.

His love deserved peace.

Death leaned against the railing to the river where his thoughts often took him. He looked over the waters to a river filled with human pollution and sighed. Cars a and taxis raced by him. Drunken laughter could be heard from from an alleyway as gunshots sounded in the distance. The drunken voices squeaked at the sound then immediately started to giggle once more.

Death's obsession had tired him through the centuries, and now, with it so close in his grasp with such a simple thing as a name, he ached for revenge, even more so with the thoughts of his lost love fresh in his mind and their past all those years ago.

He held a single clue, a name. A modern name to age old god. The battle between a king and death had begun.
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