It feels like I’ve been sucked into a weird alternate universe as I mindlessly start petting them too.
“How in the Fates…” the prisoner across from me whispers, stunned.
All three heads snap toward the sound, snarling. Thick, corded muscles bunch as it crouches, ready to jump across the chasm.
Uh oh.
“Hey! Here boy? Girl? Puppy! Here, puppy! Don’t go, want more scritches?” I ask, trying to use my Cinderella voice.
It comes out as a demented squeak.
One of the heads glances back at me, tempted, before snapping its attention to the poor prisoner again.
Oh, this is bad. I’m supposed to be getting mauled, not the person who tried to warn me. Why didn’t the dog care when I made noise?
Realization hits fast, and once again, I’m reminded that I’m an idiot.
The dog springs across the cavern, and the prisoner lets out a scream.
“Cerberus, stop!” I yell, just as the dog reaches the bars.
He freezes, then turns to give me the saddest, most wounded look I’ve ever seen.
“Come here, Cerberus. Who’s a good boy? Come on back.” I pat my thighs like I’m trying to call a golden retriever, rather than a murder-dog.
The beast almost trips over his paws as he scrambles back to my cell.
“Good boy,” I coax, petting each head in turn.
My shoulders slump, relieved that I managed to call him back. I’ve only ever read about one three-headed dog. I shouldn’t be surprised that the Underworld’s guard dog is just as real as his master.
Hades mentioned that I was ‘of the Underworld.’ Apparently, his dog agrees.
There’s a thunk as the dog drops to the floor and rolls onto his back. All three of his heads turn to look at me, hopeful.
I smile, and it’s genuine. Of course, the hellhound wants belly rubs.
A few minutes later, a massive pool of drool has formed outside my cell as the murder-puppy naps contentedly.
“Is it safe?” The man across the way asks in a hushed whisper.
One of Cerberus’ heads opens an eye and gives a lazy warning rumble.
“Shh, down, Cerberus. Leave it,” I command, and the dog huffs before going back to sleep. “Yeah, I think so,” I finally answer.
Awed amber eyes meet mine as the prisoner moves to his door. “How did you do that?”
Somehow, I think telling strangers in prison about my top-secret power is probably not super-spy approved. Instead, I shrug. “We have a lot in common.”
His brow furrows, like he realizes I’m hedging, but then his face softens. “Are you okay?”
I almost laugh from the sheer absurdity of his question. Even with Cerberus asleep, the other prisoners stay in the shadows, just like this man did when Leon was assaulting me.
A small lick of anger snakes up my spine, and I remind myself that I should probably be nice. This is the only person making an effort to talk to me.
Unfortunately, I think my inner people pleaser is dead.
“Of course,” I drawl, sarcasm dripping from my voice. “What tipped you off that I might not be okay? Oh! Was it when you watched me nearly get raped? Or was it during the emotional breakdown that followed? Oh! I know! It’s when I tried to let a three-headed dog eat me.” I pause for a moment before adding, “Clearly, I am thriving.”
