Well….this can’t be good, I thought staring at the black and lightly smoking envelope in my hand, my name written in silver ink. I flipped it over and opened the flap, snapping the black and silver seal with Hades own insignia.

I slid out the thick black card inside. In the same silver ink all it said was:

1:00am Friday

Apollo’s Diner

I looked at the clock, it was 12:48am. “Crap”

I threw the invitation in the sink so nothing would catch on fire, grabbed my leather coat and shot out the door. It would be a miracle if I got there on time. But you can’t keep the lord of the underworld waiting.

At least he didn’t send a shade to come drag me through the couch…like last time. That was awkward.

I ran as fast as could, dodging people out late, emerging from bars, one last walk for the dog before bed, head down mumbling to themselves. The sidewalk was slick from the rain (the lord of the underworld only comes up in bad weather) and I narrowly avoided slipping a few times.

The Apollo always made me nervous. It was kind of a portal between the above and the under. Time worked differently in the diner. You never knew if you were going to get out on the same day you walked in, or walk into a completely different street.

I got to the door of Apollo’s right as my alarm went off. 1am. I burst in and looked around, pushing wet hair out of my eyes.

The hostess, a harpy, pointed to a booth far from the entrance. To the man seated with his back to the door. Taking a deep breath, I walked over and slid into the booth across from him.

Black eyes narrowed at me under raven hair, set off by a midnight colored jacket, shirt, and tie. His long dark hands crossed themselves over the plastic menu on the table.

“Well,” he asked, his white teeth glinting, the only color that contrasted the darkness of him.

“Do you have any word on my wife, or should I hire a better P.I.?”