Than returned to his chambers in the Underworld wishing he could be more like his father and sisters. They seemed less moved than he by feelings of compassion. They saw right and wrong, and they acted on justice.
“I’m weak. My father would find these thoughts pathetic.”
If he could be more like the rest of his family, he would not be tormented now, tortured by the wrestling emotions, human emotions, disturbing every atom of his being. If he could be more like them, he would bring Therese down straight away without another thought the moment McAdams was found and brought to justice.
But he couldn’t do it. He wanted to be sure she would be happy, and it seemed more and more plain to him that she could never find joy in such a dismally dark and lifeless place as his home.
He studied his rooms, looking at them as though for the first time, contemplating what Therese would think of them. The entrance was rather imposing, but he had to have Hephaestus make the jutting iron bars, like a giant jaw with jagged teeth, to keep away the constant threats by demigods. How often had Than had to listen to their arrogant claims to immortality as he guided their souls to Charon? “My father will punish you for this!” “Hermes will have your head!” “Zeus will never let you get away with this!” They spoke as though Than had any choice in the matter.
And of course, there were the powerful human souls who made themselves rich and famous, and when their threats failed to move Than, they resorted to bribery. “I can give you all the gold you desire.” As if Than needed gold! The Underworld was full of it, and Than could have as much as he desired, if he desired it. But Than found gold to be worthless, overrated, and not the most comfortable material for adorning his home.
Of course, there were also the desperate souls, not necessarily powerful, but cunning, who every few centuries would find a way back to Than’s door after the judges had proclaimed their sentence but before reaching their final destination. None of them succeeded in binding Than except Sisyphus and Hercules, but they had tried. The iron jaws at his entrance were made after Hercules’s stunt, and since then, Than no longer had to deal with unexpected intruders.
But once one passed the intimidating entrance, the first chamber was quite pleasing. The dome shape of the rock walls provided a beautiful symmetry to everything in the room, from the leather club chairs by the cozy fireplace to the marble cabinets where he kept his goblets and wine and dishes that had been given to him by various gods, including the best wine from Dionysus. Along the opposite wall across from the fireplace flowed the Phlegethon with its bright flames illuminating all the rooms. Several instruments made for him by Hermes, Athena, and Apollo hung above the flames, and in the middle of the room were a table and two chairs. The second chair was rarely used, so seldom did he have visitors. But the occasional visitor from Mount Olympus, such as Aphrodite and her son, Cupid, Hera, Hermes, and his grandmother, Demeter, though they came for favors or information, would always find this chamber comfortable and welcoming, even if it did lack sunlight and wind. The flames from the Phlegethon produced no heat, and underground rock kept the room consistently cool, and although the humidity could be stifling at times, the running waterfall in the next chamber, where he slept, usually kept the air fresh and circulating.
From this front chamber, he entered his bed quarters, where the trickling waterfall helped him to sleep every so often when he needed rest. Unlike humans, he did not sleep every day, and not regularly, just when he needed to, perhaps once a month or less. The water fell from a high point in the dome-shaped room and cascaded over a series of rock shelves where Than kept a collection of shells given to him over the centuries by various people, such as Aphrodite, two different sea nymphs, the Maenads, and once, even Poseidon. A thick and living stalagmite growing in the center of the room served as a table for other possessions, such as the clock given to him by his father and made of precious stones, a tablet of Cyprus and a golden quill given to him by his mother, a moon rock from Hecate, and a pair of slippers that his brother made for him of lamb’s wool. Leaning against it was a quiver with a dozen arrows made of bone.
Over his bed hung a steel sword in a golden sheath, made by Hephaestus, a bow given to him by Artemis, and a shield given to him by Zeus. His bed was round and made of a silk-lined mattress stuffed with goose feathers and draped with finely woven and magical linen, a gift from Athena.
His rooms were quite comfortable for him, but he doubted Therese would think so. There was no natural light and no living things, only the underground elements of stone and water. How could she ever come to love this place after living in her log cabin in the mountains of Colorado where the birds sang freely, the sunrises and sunsets painted the wide blue skies daily, and the green, lush trees towered in forests that rustled with all manner of life?