As a demon, the son of Hades himself, Nico was used to seeing dead souls. Most were granted of natural causes but others were from murder. The darker part of him loved the masterpieces that psychopaths created, congratulated them on their brutal works.
The greatest kill he ever saw was a young man, a scholar, who had been ripped apart in the waters of the Mediterranean. He had been sent to retrieve the soul only to find the cruel siren, the only daughter of Poseidon, tapping on what was left of his skull, whispering if he had realized what she was before he tried to get to close. She called him stupid, laughing that he should have known better than to try and hear her song.
She felt him approaching and turned to study him. She had questioned if her victim’s soul would suffer, that she had caught him attempting to rape an artist friend of hers, a female human that was the seer of Apollo. He had told her yes and felt his cold heart warm just a smidge and the vicious curl of her lips.
He found many more kills of her, all more perfect than the last, though none as good as the soul of Andrew Chase. She would smile and question the suffering of hell, see if it was as perfect as she imagined. He would tell her of the rivers of Acheron and Styx, of Tartarus and Asphodel. She would sigh at the picture of pain and brutality, wishing she could see it for herself. He never spoke of Elysium. That was paradise, a thing that made his mermaid screech and curse. She was the princess of Atlantis. Her father ruled the seas and she hated the perfectness of his kingdom, claimed it boring and bland. Her mother was his consort, for he hated his queen who was her bitch of a stepmother. Her oldest stepbrother Triton was just as awful as his mother. Her other three older brothers, Theseus, Eryx, and Cycherus, were members of the army of the sea, her father’s most trusted soldiers. They were tolerable to her, for they gloated of every kill and every battle. Her youngest brother was a Cyclops, the only one of the beasts she liked, somewhat. Tyson was sweetness personified, her one weakness, and the only one who could make her smile because of something that wasn’t involving death or blood. He was the only one she showed affection to and tried to hide from her attacks.
One day the attacks stopped. He could not find one trace of her. He begged his father her location but was denied every time.
Eventually he got word of her. She had been kidnapped by the captain of Sparta’s army. Lukas Castellan had been a friend of Andrew Chase, the scholar she killed from Athens. In revenge for his murder, he had hunted her down and was keeping her locked in a glass cage in his home. Nico could not rescue her for he was a death demon.
After an agonizing year the captain finally killed her in front of his officers at a party to celebrate after they had overthrown Atlantis. All of her family and people had died. With her death, all mermaids and sirens would be gone from the mortal world. He tortured her with his sword before slitting her throat.
Nico carried her to hell, taking her past the gates and to his personal palace near the river Acheron. He had a deep pond in his garden and after healing the physical wounds on her soul, he placed her in it. His father let him drag dirty souls there for her to continue her kills of blood and pain. Lukas was sent there, as was Andrew. Her artist friend was brought to Nico’s, as was Tyson and her three likeably brothers and mother. She would sing to him and he would tell her stories of cruelty he found when he left for the mortal realm. Every night, before he would retire to dream of battles and death, she would give him a kiss, normally with blood staining her lips.
Nico had not expected to get a mermaid, much less be able to keep her. However Persephone had a way of surprising him, with blood and music and death. What more could a death demon want?