“What of your father-son bond with Lucifer?” Baden asked with a sneer. “I’m not exactly feeling your love for him.”

“There is no bond. Not anymore. Now, that’s enough chatter from you. I have two tasks for you. One will take time. The other will take balls. I hope you’re wearing yours.”

Bastard.

Hades clapped his hands and called, “Pippin.”

An old man with a haggard face and humped back stepped out from behind the throne. He wore a long white robe and chiseled in a stone tablet. Never glancing up from his toils, he said, “Yes, sire.”

“Tell Baden his first assignments.”

“The coin and the siren.”

Hades smiled with fondness. “You spare no detail, Pippin. A true master of description.” When he held out his hand, the robed man placed a tiny piece of stone on his palm. “A male in New York has a coin that belongs to me. I want it back.”

This was an unsavory task? “You want me to fetch a single coin?”

“Laugh now, if you like. You won’t be laughing later.” The stone caught fire and quickly burned to ash; Hades blew in Baden’s direction. “You’ll need time, as I said, and cunning.”

He instinctively inhaled. A moment later, multiple images took center stage in his mind. A golden coin with Hades’s face on one side and a blank canvas on the other. A luxurious country estate. A chapel. A schedule. A picture: a twenty-five-year-old male with the face of an angel framed by golden curls that resembled a halo.

Suddenly Baden knew a myriad of details he’d never been told. The male’s name was Aleksander Ciernik, and he hailed from Slovakia, where his father built an empire selling heroin and women. Four years ago, Aleksander killed his father and took over the family business. His enemies tended to disappear without a trace. Not that anyone could concretely connect him to a crime.

“You now have the ability to flash to Aleksander,” Hades said. “You can also flash to me and your home, wherever it happens to be. The ability will expand to include any new assignments you’re given.”

The ability to flash was something he’d always coveted. Today, his excitement was tempered with caution. “How did the human obtain your coin?”

“Does it matter? A task is a task.”

True enough. “And my second assignment?”

Pippin placed a new stone in Hades’s palm. More flames crackled...more ashes floated in Baden’s direction. As he inhaled, a different image took shape in his mind. A beautiful woman with long strawberry-blond hair and big blue eyes. A siren.

Every siren could evoke certain emotions or reactions with her voice, but each familial line had a distinctive specialty. Her family excelled at creating calm during chaos.

The girl...she’d died centuries ago. Killed by—the details remained hidden. What Baden knew? She was now a spirit, though her lack of tangibility wouldn’t be a problem for him. Despite the bands, he was still able to connect with other spirits.

“Bring me her tongue,” Hades commanded.

As in, cut out her tongue? “Why?” The single word lashed from Baden.

“My sincerest apologies for giving you the impression I would assuage your curiosity. Go. Now.”

Baden opened his mouth to protest only to find himself inside the fortress in Budapest, where his friends lived. He was in the entertainment room, to be exact, with Paris, the keeper of Promiscuity, and Sienna, the new keeper of Wrath. A Hallmark movie played in the background as the two reclined on the couch, eating popcorn and strategizing ways to sneak into the underworld without detection.

Amun, the keeper of Secrets, sat at a small round table, with his wife by his side. Haidee was petite, her shoulder-length blond hair streaked with pink. A silver stud pierced her brow, and the tank top she wore revealed an arm sleeved with names, faces and numbers. Clues she’d needed to remind herself of who she was every time she’d died and come back, her memories erased. She’d died a lot, the demon of Hate reanimating her every time but the last, allowing her to continue her mission: destroying her enemies. The last time, the incarnation of Love reanimated her.

Baden had once been enemy number one, which was why she’d helped kill him all those centuries ago.

The memory rose, one he’d actually lived, and he couldn’t beat it back, as if—because he was both living and dead, body and spirit—he was trapped between present and past. He’d resided in ancient Greece with the other Lords. A distraught Haidee had come knocking on his door, claiming her husband had been injured and he required a doctor.