Chapter Text
Zagreus really shouldn’t have stopped, he really really shouldn’t. He was already running late, and as much as Aphrodite seemed to like him, she could be a nightmare when she got angry.
“I’ll only be a moment,” Zagreus told himself, fumbling to pull his phone from the pocket of his jeans.
Eight dogs turned their heads at the sound of his voice, pointed ears perking up, loose jowls wobbling, and wet noses twitching as they abandoned their doggy tasks around the yard to come see the stranger at their gate.
The dogs, from scruffy little terriers to a truly enormous mutt, lined up along the fence of the large yard, seated and staring at Zagreus as he opened the camera on his phone. They looked like little dog soldiers, perfectly poised, not a sound from any of them as they watched him closely.
“Look at all of you,” he said, watching the tail of a sleek black hound give a tiny wiggle at his tone. “You’re all so attentive. Well, almost all of you.”
Apparently one of the dogs wasn’t interested in falling into line this morning. A scrappy yellow one sat in front of the steps leading to the front door, staring fixedly at a tennis ball resting in the shade of the house. It’s tail wagged excitedly like it was waiting on someone to start a game of fetch.
“Alright, best dogs, look right here!” Zagreus called, snapping at least half a dozen photos as the dogs tilted their heads, watching him closely.
It was a bit dark, and the sun was only just coming up across the street, catching in the house’s windows and revealing streaks of dirt and dust. The yard looked crunchy, fallen leaves collected against the fence, and dog toys poked up through the weeds, but a trough of what appeared to be clean water stood against the side of the house and none of the dogs looked uncared for or particularly unhappy.
Zagreus shrugged off any worries. Who was he to judge? He wasn’t much for home maintenance either. His grimy rental just looked a little less out of place in his neighborhood.
“Thank you for being such lovely models, but I’ve got to be on my way,” Zagreus said, waving to the pack.
Glancing at the time on his phone, he grimaced and broke into a jog. Something in his backpack clanked, jabbing a sharp corner into his ribs with every other step. Aphrodite’s newest house was an inconvenient twenty minute walk from the nearest bus stop.
Not that anyone around here would care, Zag thought as he turned a corner and Aphrodite’s pink Mary Kay Cadillac (the new SUV, not the classic her husband fixed up for her) came into view.
The house was old, like most in the area, though smaller than some. Faded, old paint peeled away from the siding, and the porch railing was chipped and ragged. A crooked porch swing swayed gently in the easy autumn wind. The lawn had been cleaned up though, and Zag had no doubts that within a matter of months the house would be crisp and updated, painted in Aphrodite’s signature pink.
Zagreus took a moment, standing outside the front door, to catch his breath and straighten his clothes. He ran a hand through his unruly dark hair, figuring it was a lost cause, before he lifted the brass knocker.
Aphrodite was at the door before Zag had time to pull his hand back.
“There you are, darling! I was worried you’d gotten lost,” she said, taking his shoulder in her manicured hand and tugging him inside.
“Sorry, Aphrodite, I was on a job late last night, and I missed the first bus in--”
“The bus! Darling, just ask next time, I’ll send someone to pick you up,” she said, tugging the collar of his jacket straight and patting down his hair.
Zag caught a glance at himself in the mirror beside the entryway and marvelled that she’d managed to shape his hair into something remotely fashionable.
“There now,” she said, “Wouldn’t want any ghosts to meet you at less than your best! I’ll leave you to do your spooky thing, dear. I’ve got to meet with a client at the shop across town, so I won’t be available if you call, I’m afraid. Be back to check on you in an hour. Don’t let anything ruin the wallpaper, I’m hoping to revive it.”
She swept out of the door, long pink hair leaving the scent of roses behind.
Zagreus sighed. He liked Aphrodite, not only because she was the main reason he could afford to eat, but even just being near her left him weak-kneed. She never had any fewer than ten major projects going on at a time, and she never appeared anything other than unruffled and impeccable.
Swinging his backpack off his shoulder and setting it on the sideboard in front of the mirror, Zag began pulling out his tools and instruments. It could be hard finding someone superstitious enough to hire him, but after a nasty incident with the plumbing in one of her previous renovations, Aphrodite always called Zagreus up to give the all clear on a house before she started any updates.
He fastened the body cam to his shoulder and clipped the shortwave radio to his hip. It hissed and whined as it shuffled from one end of the spectrum to another.
The camera was mostly for insurance, in case something did happen, he wouldn’t take the blame. He also sometimes sold his footage online, but that was rarer. He didn’t like to do it without permission, and most people weren’t interested in becoming Internet sensations. They also usually didn’t know what the internet was.
“Alright, let’s get started,” he said for the camera, beginning his circuit around the house.
It was pretty standard for one of Aphrodite’s projects: a little run down, showing its age, but no severe structural damage. The floorboards underneath the mouldering carpet in the parlor immediately off the entryway creaked as Zagreus entered. All the furniture had been removed already, leaving the space barren.
The wallpaper was nice, he noted, tracing it with his fingertips. It was a pleasant pistachio green with slender painted trees reaching across it. He vaguely remembered Hypnos saying something about arsenic-green paint. He jerked his hand back, wiping his fingers off on his pants.
“Moving on,” he muttered, stepping into the next room.
The dining room was empty as well, but warmer from the morning sun filtering through the dirty windows. Something like a memory flashed across Zagreus’ vision. It filled in a scene of the room as it may have been over a century ago with a long table at the center of the room. The dust lifted from the chandelier. The wood shined with polish.
Silhouettes of a man and a woman, seated beside one another, holding hands over their breakfast. Details were blurred and indistinct, but as the vision faded, Zagreus’ mouth watered as though he could smell the meal spread out in front of him.
“Hello?” Zagreus called. “Anyone there? Sorry to intrude like this.”
The radio continued to crackle at his hip, filling the dusty room. Zagreus waited a moment longer before moving to the kitchen. Visions like that didn’t always mean someone was around. Sometimes buildings held onto memories, too.
The kitchen was surprisingly large for the size of the house. It had a built-in stove, the dull black iron set into the brick of the north wall. A pantry door hung open to its left and a sink was set into the wall to its right.
Zagreus shuffled his feet against the floorboards. The warmth of the dining room clung to him. The comfort and ease of the scene he’d witnessed settled deep in his chest. He almost hoped someone would be here, if only so he could meet the source of that warmth, but no memories sparked to life here.
He turned away from the kitchen, heading back to the entryway and upstairs to the second floor. The two bedrooms and bathroom proved uninteresting and uneventful. Zag checked the time on his phone. He still had half an hour before Aphrodite came back to lock up after him.
The warm feeling that had settled in his chest had faded as he made his way through the rest of the house. Zagreus pushed aside his disappointment. It was a good thing he hadn’t found anyone. Lingering spirits typically weren’t happy about being stuck in their homes for upwards of a hundred years. Besides, Aphrodite would be happy to hear she could get started on her renovations. If she tipped him like last time, he might be able to replace the battery in his van.
As Zagreus stepped down from the stairs onto the first floor, a shock of heat raced up his fingertips. The radio crackled, and a voice began to sing.