Chapter 11: Chapter 11

T H A N A T O S

THE GOD OF DEATH knew what the glowing meant.

The iridescent golden light pierced through the musty darkness of his office; the burgundy velvet curtains drawn and stifling the room into a claustrophobic atmosphere. They were never opened when he was present, due to his homey comfort in the dark. He twirled the necklace between his fingers and frowned, eyeing the pulsing dance of light in and around the intricate pieces of glass plated obsidian, moulded into the shape of an angel’s wings. At a young age, Thanatos had understood the relationship between the mundane world and the divine world —and he understood that what he was seeing was the worst possible thing that could ever happen. He was however, slightly impressed by how well it had all been kept hidden until now. This beginning of uncovering the truth had been the result of a careless misplacement, most likely. It also annoyed him that this problem would most likely be his to solve. It annoyed him even more that the one he would have to answer to would probably be absolutely no help whatsoever.

But what annoyed Thanatos the most, was that he had been enjoying a lovely glass of wine when it happened —that damned pendant on the necklace that he had been told to keep an eye on, had started glowing.

Cursing, he stood up and grabbed his blazer, before straightening his tie as an afterthought. He stomped out of his office and down the hall, his footsteps echoing on the polished marble. “I’m going out, Nina,” he vaguely addressed the violet haired secretary who was typing away at the front desk, “Postpone any meetings that I have scheduled any time within the next two hours —this may run…overtime,” he warned, his jaw setting.

“Yes, sir,” Nina answered, instantly rescheduling his planner.

She raised a dark brown eyebrow at him as he stalked past her, very obviously pissed off, but obviously thought better about prying into the urgent matter since she did not say anything more.

Thanatos opened the doors dramatically to find Charon’s boat already docked at the bottom of the marble steps; gently bobbing up and down on the dark storm clouds that covered the endless black abyss.

Charon himself was sitting on the edge of the steps, poking a stick around in the swirl of storm clouds. He did not turn around immediately, but Death knew that he was aware of his presence. As soon as Thanatos had finished grooming himself, the old greying ferryman turned around and looked at his tensed figure with what seemed like genuine sympathy. The immortal had always appeared the same, as far as Thanatos could remember —resembling a stooping, skeletal withered version of the mundane world’s St Nicholas. Charon’s molten mercury eyes narrowed at the necklace in Death’s hand.

“…That was sooner than planned,” were the ferryman’s first words of greeting. “What is your father going to say?”

Thanatos clicked his tongue and climbed into the boat; his arms folded like an infant denied dessert. “That is what I am going to find out,” he sighed. “The Underworld; let us go,” he ordered.

Charon sighed and shrugged, grabbed his oar and made a long stroke into the black clouds, carrying the boat forward. Purgatory, where Thanatos resided and where Obsidian Carrier Corp headquarters were, was as busy as it always was. Souls drifted around the kiosk desks; some with identification tags and others sipping a relaxing mocha latte. After a pit stop here, Charon would ferry all of the day’s casualties down to the Underworld. There, they would be judged at the hand of the god of the dead himself —Hades. Many souls attempted to stay longer than the allotted twenty-four hours in Purgatory. Unfortunately for them, Death had had a new security system added a millennium before to prevent that from happening. It had not occurred to him that the same barcode and tag system humans used for their stores actually had some sort of value here.

“Did you bring him a gift?” Charon then suddenly rasped.

The god frowned. “What?”

“Your father,” the ferryman clarified, “—did you bring him a gift?”

Death glared at him. “No, of course not. Why would I do that?”

“Do you not want his help? Remember what happened the last time you came empty handed and asked for a raise. He does like to be sweet-talked and bribed, as I recall.”

“Not that it is any of your business,” Death hissed. “He does not need to be buttered up,” he sighed, clutching the necklace tighter and holding it up, “…Not for this.”

✠

The Underworld was cold and devastating —and the waters of the River Styx so still and alluringly misleading. Contrary to mortal belief, there was no fire in the greater part of Hades’ domain. There was blizzard and frost; vast planes of cracked blackened desert and darkness. The guard dog Cerberus was chewing a large dry dinosaur bone at the gates, looking rather bored.

Thanatos did not blame him.

“Out of the way; Thanatos coming through,” he announced to the souls who were already lined up. He strode past them and offered Cerberus a pat on the right shoulder, and then walked in as though he owned the place.

It frustrated him that Hades’ palace was so far away from the gates; and it was not as though he could whip out a portal and be there in a flash. He might be a god, but he unfortunately did not possess the power of instantaneous travel. But the exercise would do him good, so he walked on with increased vigour. The mortal Hell part of the Underworld —The Fields of Punishment —was the part which he had to walk past first.

In his human form, the Demons could not tell him apart from any other soul and had thus tried to grab at him on several occasions. Death shivered at the memory of being fished out of a pit of fire; and remembered how it had cost a fortune to replace a beloved grey suit.

Before he knew it, he had arrived at the side fringes of Elysium and the Isles of the Blessed —and the marble steps of Hades’ looming black castle. He shivered and relaxed his shoulders and went up to the steps. The entrance; as was anything Hades did, was extravagant and over the top.

Giant marble statues acted as pillars and load bearers in odd corners, each displaying the badge which Thanatos’ Grim Reapers used. Death snarled at this and stuck his nose up in the air. Hades always tried to be more involved in his son’s life, and his son tried harder to ignore it —there was just nothing that Hades could do anymore that would not agitate Thanatos. He had tried to stop Thanatos from moving to Purgatory all of those eons ago, but Death had put his foot down and thrown his scythe on the floor, telling his father that he was a grown man for the gods’ sakes, and that it was time to move out of the house. Hades had never been good at letting things go.

Fortunately, that quality finally had its time to shine today.

As Thanatos roamed the dark halls, shadowed pale servants of shimmering frost as tall as the ceiling drifted along the walls. The Pruinae had always unnerved him, even when he was a young immortal.

The throne room doors were closed, which was a little unusual. Hades was almost as desperate for attention as the Olympian god Apollo was, and therefore his doors remained open. But as Death strode inside and closed the doors after him, he soon found out why the throne room had been restricted.

“How could you possibly live in such a mess?” the voice of Demeter shrieked. Thanatos sighed, rather disappointed to have been foiled in his plan for a grand entrance.

“It is not my problem,” Hades drawled in his theatrical English accent, which his son had always found irritating. “I never clean up around here. Ask Persephone.”

“She’s in the mortal world!” Demeter threw her hands up, her emerald eyes momentarily flashing a glow in her anger. “And what sort of man are you, making your wife in charge of all the housework?”

Hades paused and widened his eyes at the question. He was not that sort of male, and he prided himself in that.

“…A misogynistic one —is that what you wanted to hear?” he snapped sarcastically, before his jasper eyes shifted and landed on Death. “Thanatos!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He quickly walked up to him and straightened his tieless suit. “…You are a very…welcome, distraction, trust me,” he lowered his voice and raised his dark brows suggestively.

Demeter scoffed and picked up her skirts, all set to storm off. “Typical!”

Both males then winced as the door slammed.

“Well, there the wheat goddess goes,” Hades chuckled lightly. “…Or, the world’s first demonic mother-in-law, as I like to call her,” he added, grinning. Thanatos did not entertain the joke, and gave the god an expectant look. His father had always had an oddly bright sense of humour, and for the life of him, he could not understand it. Being the god of the dead, one would think that Hades would be incapable of such pleasantries.

His appearance did somehow make up for it —his eyes were shadowed; his jaw strong and stubbled; his skin a dark olive but dull in the actual colour; and his black suits severe. Some might describe him as handsome, but the whole Lord of the Damned mien did get in the way.

“…Right,” the older god frowned, growing serious again, “What is the matter? You never come to visit just to say hello.”

Thanatos held up the necklace and twirled it in his father’s face. “This,” he sighed. Hades gasped dramatically and his eyes widened proportionately.

“Why, that means…”

“Yes,” Thanatos said as he nodded, “—she is dead.”

Hades lowered his gaze, a look of deep sadness wrinkling his face. He ran his hands through his tangle of dark umber hair and let out a sound that was like a strangled growl, before he turned around and fell into a pace.

“It was going to happen eventually.” Thanatos shrugged, unsure if it was his intention to aid the situation or not.

“She was eighteen,” Hades looked up and glared at him. His eyes glowed and the jasper colour saturated, warning Death of his anger. “Eighteen, Thanatos. Her life had barely begun and now she is dead.” Then he paused, the sadness seeming to dissipate, and he frowned thoughtfully. “…Now she can find out who I am.”

“You know very well that she can do no such thing,” Thanatos said firmly. “You know that what you did was wrong to begin with and being present in her afterlife is not on the agenda.”

“Yes, but she is my daughter.” Hades pointed a black painted fingernail at him. “I have legal obligations attached to her.”

Thanatos frowned and clenched his fists. “…Not down here you don’t,” he growled. Hades gave him a pained expression, before turning away and pacing again. As though Death could not possibly understand.

“…Do you think that Phoebe read any of my letters?”

His son scoffed. “I would not be surprised if that mortal wanted nothing to do with you. You are currently a disgrace to the Olympian gods. I don’t think that she wanted that on her conscience.”

Hades’ eyes pulsed a glow in warning, before he glared at the floor. It honestly no longer fazed Thanatos. He had stopped fearing his father’s anger centuries prior. Death’s own bronze eyes however, still struck fear in both mortal and immortal hearts alike.

Perhaps it was the miniature working clock in each of his irises.

“Where is her soul?” Hades then asked, raising an eyebrow. He seemed to struggle to say her name, before whispering, “…Savannah’s?”

Death opened his mouth, and then closed it again, realising that he in fact, had no idea. He clicked his fingers and a plume of Phoenix fire ignited in the air. An image from the security footage room appeared, before he enlarged the image and zoomed in on the list for the day, subcategory being the name of her hometown.

And then he frowned. “…That’s odd,” he murmured.

“What’s odd?”

“Her name is not on today’s list for reaped souls in that area.”

Thanatos clicked his fingers again and his office materialised in the fire. He zoomed in on the summaries that he was yet to file away and scanned those for matches. Nothing came up. “She did not die today,” Death concluded, his eyes widening. “But the necklace…”

He looked down at it. It still glowed just as brightly as it had before.

Hades narrowed his eyes at his son and tilted his head to the side. “You don’t think —” he started, pouting.

“—she Turned into a Grim Reaper?” Thanatos finished, unfazed. “Maybe. I will need to run a system check.”

Hades blinked rapidly and gave Thanatos a confused look. “Do you understand the implications of her being a Reaper, Thanatos? Phoebe used to write to me telling me of strange unexplainable occurrences linked to Savannah. Do you not get it. Do you not see? Your sister —”

“Half,” Death growled.

Hades scoffed. “…Whether you think of her of your own blood or not, she is still very much of mine,” he huffed, pacing again. “And with that, comes power. Dangerous power.” Then he paused. “…Untamed power.”

Diluted power, Thanatos thought.

He then clicked his tongue. “Regardless, she is still half mortal —whether she is a Grim Reaper now or not. Human blood still runs through her veins and god blood does too. But I am sorry, father…” Death frowned as he let the title slip, “Your Grand Plan doesn’t sound as if it will work now.”

His eyes met Thanatos’ and they clouded with a fearful look. “…Thanatos. I need you to do something. Something, very important.”

“What?” he sighed.

“Watch over her —keep an eye on her. If she has indeed Turned, that is. If not, please fast track her application to the Underworld. She cannot do much damage as a soul.”

Death frowned. “Do not underestimate the dead,” he warned his father, “for it is because of them that we even exist.”

“…Indeed,” Hades breathed, relaxing his shoulders. “Well, if that is all, then farewell. I have a serious matter to deal with,” he clipped.

Thanatos snorted. “You mean, arguing with Demeter?”

“Goodbye, Thanatos,” Hades sighed, turning away. “And,” he then drawled as he turned around in a dramatic sweep, “I expect a result of that systems check in an hour.” He pointed at him for emphasis.

“Yes, yes,” Death grumbled bitterly, turning on his heel. “…Old fool,” he added under his breath.

“I heard that, you ingrate,” Hades called after him.

Thanatos groaned, bursting out of the throne room. He stormed his way back towards the entrance where Charon would be waiting for him.

The Demons eyed Death with interest; their liquid sulphur eyes studying his suit and upward turned nose.

But he shot them all a steely look and they cowered away as soon as they saw those glowing eyes; raging and intense like wildfire. Thanatos then kicked up stray pebbles and stuffed his hands into his pockets, stomping.

Why was that stupid bastard child always his problem to deal with? All she did was share a quarter of his lineage and that was it.

Savannah was nothing like him. He had heard tales of her, and her mother’s lives when Hades still lived with them. Savannah’s mother, Phoebe, had always seemed like a bit of a limp noodle, and if Thanatos had to be harsh, he wished that he could bring her death date forward.

He shook his head, dismissing the thought, and tried not to feel guilty for it. Instead he thought about his instructions to watch over Savannah. She was a sweet, innocent little girl who could not say boo to a ghost —or rather, she used to be. He was not sure what she was like now, but he supposed that due to his new mission, he would find out. But there was one thing that he counted on, no matter how much he might come to tolerate her. No one was anything like Death.

He guessed that was why he had wanted to move. Maybe it was not because he had had enough of his father. Maybe it was because he thought they were better off without him. Without the odd one out.

✠

Charon whistled as the god of death climbed onto the boat again.

“How did it go?” he inquired.

Thanatos scoffed and crossed one of his legs over the other. “…Peachy.”

Charon smiled. “Delightful.”

“Older fool,” Death hissed.

“Do not take your anger out on me,” the ferryman said firmly. “Your father is the one who deserves your wrath.”

Thanatos frowned and digested his words. He no longer tolerated Hades, but that did not mean that he hated him. It did not mean that he desired to kill him or bring him any harm. In fact, he was almost one hundred percent sure that if anyone ever made war against his father that they would meet the brunt of Death’s wrath at full force. And that applied to Persephone as well. Maybe even Demeter…though he was not going to make any promises.

“…No,” Thanatos finally responded, surprising Charon. “No, he doesn’t.” He realised that perhaps his anger had been misdirected all of this time. The person that he should really be angry with was Savannah —or better yet her mother —for ruining his life and family.

The conversation dwindled after that and they arrived in Purgatory. Thanatos bowed to him respectfully after climbing out and stepping onto the marble steps and Charon did the same, with a sad but understanding look etched on his sunken face. Thanatos took a deep breath and exhaled, before ascending to the front entrance. He turned to the right and headed for the Security division, set on finding some answers.

“Um…Thanatos, sir,” Nina then spoke up and stopped him in his tracks. He turned to her and she looked unsure of what to say. “How are you?”

Death paused and glared at his secretary in a way of saying ‘what?’.

“Well,” she began, dropping her gaze slightly, “It’s just that…you went over time, including dilations. It must have been a really important meeting.”

It was at that point that Thanatos figured out that the grudge that he had against Hades was in fact old news, and common knowledge. Death sighed and shook his head, a tired smile returning her amused chuckle. “Thank you for the concern, Nina. But I’m fine.”

“Always a pleasure, sir,” she quipped.

His smile however, faded as he neared the Security door. He considered putting it off until maybe next month, but then he realised that this was important to his father. Hades would not let it go.

“Philipe, please double check the data base for all Reapers who Turned in the last 72 hours,” Thanatos ordered.

“Yes sir.”

“Who are you looking for?” Argon asked, swivelling in his chair.

“Savannah Ivy Green. I have reason to believe she died recently, but not today recently,” Thanatos hissed, digging his fingernails into his palms. “Trace her and find out where she is.”

He then turned to leave when all of a sudden, the security alarm rang out, startling everyone. The security alarm was perhaps the most annoying —it rang like an ambulance siren and fire bell at full blast.

They all paused, wondering what was going on, before a stick-thin technical assistant ran into the room.

“There’s been a breach!” he shouted above the alarm. “A soul has been reaped that wasn’t yet supposed to be!”

Thanatos growled, pushed past him and headed for Technical Support himself. “Just what in the names of the gods is going on here!” he thundered, making everyone whimper.

Another employee took off her headset and looked at Death earnestly. “Well, we just received a notification from a kiosk that a soul identified as Aaron Finnick Carter was reaped a few minutes ago.”

“And his due date is actually September the twenty-third, 2091,” someone else finished.

Death growled and could tell that his eyes had begun to glow since everyone else’s eyes widened in fear. “Bring his soul directly to me,” he said in a low voice, “…And find the Reaper responsible for this!”

They all nodded and turned back to their computers, hurriedly typing away. Thanatos cursed under his breath and glared into space, wondering what he was going to do once he had found that Reaper.

They would pay with much more than just their pathetic life.

“Thanatos, sir!” Argon burst in, causing Death to jump. He stared at his employee expectantly. “…We found her. Indeed, she has Turned.”

“And?” Death snapped. “Where is she?”

“Well —” he started.

“Sir, there’s something else,” a technical assistant interrupted, though Argon looked all too relieved. “You need to look at this.”

Thanatos went over to her computer and she pressed play on a video.

He was utterly floored.

On screen, was a young woman with deep red hair flying behind her; her clothes new and her face flushed; an impressive sword in her hands and her eyes ablaze with rage. Not metaphorically —they were literally aflame. Streaks of orange flames danced outward, rooted in her glowing irises. Her obsidian sword shone gold —but something else shone underneath her tank top. And Thanatos’ eyes widened as he recognised it.

“Oh, for the love of —” he started, but cut himself off. He had no time for wallowing in rage. “…Security!” he called instead.