“Nonsense,” she said, taking Persephone’s chin between her thumb and forefinger, applying more magic. Persephone knew what she was doing without looking in the mirror—covering her freckles, brightening the color in her cheeks, and straightening her wavy hair. Demeter liked when Persephone resembled her, and Persephone preferred to look as little like her mother as possible.
“You might be playing mortal, but you can still look Divine,” she said.
Persephone rolled her eyes. Her appearance was just another way she disappointed her mother.
“There!” Demeter finally exclaimed, releasing her chin. “Beautiful.”
Persephone looked in the mirror. She had been right—Demeter had covered up everything Persephone liked about herself.
Still, she managed a forced, “Thank you, mother.”
“It was nothing, my flower.” Demeter patted her cheek. “So, tell me about this…job.”
The word sounded like a curse coming from Demeter’s lips. Persephone ground her teeth together. She was surprised by how fast and furious the anger tore through her.
“It’s an internship, mother. If I do well, I might have a job when I graduate.”
Demeter frowned. “Dear, you know you do not have to work.”
“So you say,” she muttered under her breath.
“What was that?” Demeter asked.
Persephone turned to her mother and said louder. “I want to do this, mother. I’m good at it.”
“You are good at so many things, Kore,” she said.
“Don’t call me that!” Persephone snapped. Her mother’s eyes flashed. She’d seen that look right before Demeter thrashed one of her nymphs for letting her wander out of sight.
Persephone shouldn’t have gotten angry, but she couldn’t help it. She hated that name. It was her childhood nickname, and it meant exactly that—maiden. The word was like a prison, but worse than that, it reminded her that if she stepped too far out of line, the bars of her prison would only solidify. She was the magic-less daughter of an Olympian. Not only that, she borrowed her mother’s magic. If anything, that was a tether that meant obeying her mother was even more important. Without Demeter's glamour, Persephone couldn’t live in the mortal world anonymously.
“Sorry, mother,” she managed, but she didn’t look at the goddess as she spoke. Not because she was embarrassed, but because she really didn’t mean the apology.
“Oh, my flower. I don’t blame you,” she said, placing her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “It’s this mortal world. It’s creating a divide between us.”
“Mother, you are being ridiculous,” Persephone said and sighed, placing her hands on either side of her face, and when she spoke again, she meant every word. “You are all I have.”
Demeter smiled, holding her daughter’s wrists. Hades’ mark burned. She leaned in a little, as if to kiss Persephone’s cheek. Instead, she said, “Remember that.”
Then she was gone.
Persephone released her breath and her body withered. Even when she had nothing to hide, dealing with her mother was exhausting. She was constantly on edge, preparing for what she would find unacceptable next. Over time, Persephone thought she had hardened herself against her mother’s unwanted words, but sometimes they pierced her.
She finished getting ready, choosing a pretty, light pink dress with ruffled sleeves. She paired it with a white wedge shoe and white handbag. On the way out, she stopped to check her reflection in the mirror, pulling glamour from her hair and face, returning her curls and freckles. She smiled, recognizing herself once again.
She headed out. Persephone didn’t have a car and she didn’t have the ability to teleport like other gods, so she either walked or took the bus when she needed to get around New Athens. Today, the sun was out, and it was warm, so she decided to walk.
Persephone loved the city because it was so unlike what she’d grown up with. Here, there were mirrored skyscrapers that sparkled under Helios’ warm rays. There were museums filled with histories Persephone had only learned when she moved here. There were buildings that looked like art, and sculptures and fountains on almost every block. Even with all the stone and glass and metal, there were acres of parks with lush gardens and trees where Persephone had spent many evenings walking. The fresh air reminded her she was free.
She inhaled now, trying to ease her anxiety. Instead, it traveled to her stomach where it knotted, made worse by the inked bracelet around her wrist. She had to get rid of it before Demeter saw it and her few years of freedom turned into a lifetime in a glass box.
It was usually that fear that kept Persephone cautious.
Except for last night—last night, she’d felt rebellious and despite this strange mark on her skin she’d found Nevernight and its king to be everything she had ever desired.
She wished that weren’t so—she wished she’d found Hades repulsive. She wished she hadn’t spent last night recalling how his dark eyes had trailed her body, how she’d had to tip her head back just to meet his gaze, how his graceful hands had shuffled the cards.
How would those long fingers feel against her skin? How would it feel to be swept into his strong arms and carried away?
After last night, she wanted things she had never wanted before. Soon, her anxiety was replaced with a fire so unfamiliar and so intense, she thought she might turn to ash.
Gods. Why was she thinking like this?
It was one thing to find the God of the Dead attractive, and another thing to…desire him. There was absolutely no way anything could happen between them. Her mother hated Hades, and she knew without asking that a relationship between them was forbidden. She also knew that she needed her mother’s magic more than she needed to quench this fire roaring inside her.
She neared the Acropolis, its dazzling, mirror surface almost blinding her. She made her way up the short flight of steps to the gold and glass doors. The lower level of the floor had a row of turnstiles and security guards—necessary for the businesses located in the high rise. Among them, Zeus’s advertising company, Oak & Eagle Creative. Zeus’s admirers were known to wait in crowds outside the Acropolis just for a glimpse of the God of Thunder. Once, a mob had tried to storm the building to reach him, which was sort of ironic considering Zeus was rarely at the Acropolis and spent most of his time in Olympia.
Zeus’s business wasn’t the only one in need of security though. New Athens News broke some difficult stories—stories that infuriated gods and mortals alike. Persephone wasn’t aware of any retaliation, but as she moved through security, she knew these mortal guards wouldn’t be able to stop an angry god from storming the sixtieth floor for revenge.
After security, she found a bank of elevators that took her up to her floor. The doors opened into to a large reception area with the words New Athens News overhead. A curved glass desk sat beneath it, and a beautiful woman with long dark curls greeted her with a smile.
“Persephone,” she said, coming around the desk. She wore a navy cargo dress with gold zippers. “It’s good to see you again.”
The girl’s name was Valerie. Persephone remembered her from her interview.
“Let me take you back. Demetri is expecting you.”
Valerie directed Persephone to the newsroom, which was beyond the glass partition. There, several metal and glass desks were arranged in perfect lines across the floor. There was a flurry of activity—phones ringing, paper shuffling, keys tapping as writers and editors pounded out their next article. The smell of coffee was strong, like the whole place ran on caffeine and ink. Persephone’s heart thudded in her chest with the thrill of it all.
“I saw you were from New Athens University,” Valerie said. “When do you graduate?”
“In six months,” Persephone chimed. She’d dreamed of the moment she’d walk across that grand stage to receive her degree. It would be the pinnacle of her time among mortals.
“You must be so excited.”
“I am,” Persephone responded
and glanced at Valerie.
“What about you?” Persephone asked. “When do you graduate?”
“In a couple years,” Valerie said.
“And how long have you been here?”
“About a year,” she said with a smile.
“Do you plan to stay when you graduate?”
“In the building, yes, just a few floors up.”
Ah, she bet Zeus’s marketing company had sourced her.
Valerie knocked on the open door of an office at the very back of the room.
“Demetri, Persephone’s here.”
“Thanks, Valerie,” Demetri said.
The girl turned to the goddess, smiled, and left, allowing room for her to enter the office. Persephone’s new boss was Demetri Aetos. He was older, but it was clear he had been a heartbreaker in his prime. His hair was short on the sides, longer on top, and flecked with grey. He wore black-framed glasses, which gave him a scholarly air. He had what Persephone would consider delicate features—thin lips and a smaller nose. He was tall, but thin. He wore a blue button-up, khaki slacks, and a polka dot bowtie.
“Persephone,” he said, coming around his desk and stretching out his hand.
She took it.
“It’s good to see you again. We are happy to have you.”
“I’m happy to be here, Mr. Aetos,” she said.
“Call me Demetri.”
“Okay…Demetri.” She couldn’t help smiling.
“Please, sit!” He indicated a chair, and she took a seat. Demetri leaned against his desk, hands in his pockets. “Tell me about yourself.”
When Persephone had first moved here, she hated this question, because there was a point when all she could talk about was her fears—closed spaces, feeling trapped, escalators. Overtime, though, she’d had enough experiences, and it had become easier to define herself by what she liked.
“Well, I’m a student at New Athens University. I’m majoring in journalism and I’ll graduate in May...” she started, and Demetri waved his hand.
“Not what’s on your resume.”
He met her gaze, and she noticed that he had blue eyes.
He smiled. “What about you—your hobbies, interests…?”
“Oh.” She blushed, thought for a moment and then said, “I like baking. It helps me relax.”
“Oh? Tell me more. What do you like to bake?”
“Anything really. I’ve been challenging myself at sugar cookie art.”
His brows rose and his smile stayed. “Sugar cookie art, huh? That’s a thing?”
“Yes, I’ll show you.”
She pulled out her phone and found a few photos. Of course, she had only taken pictures of her best cookies.
Demetri looked at the photos. “Oh, nice,” he said. “These are great, Persephone.”
He met her gaze as he returned her phone.
“Thank you.” No one but Lexa had ever told her that.
“So, you like to bake. What else?”
“I like to write,” she said. “Stories.”
“Stories? Like fiction?”
“Yes.”
“Romance?” he guessed.
It was what most people assumed, and the blush on Persephone’s cheeks wasn’t helping her case.
“No, actually. I like mysteries.”
Demetri’s brows rose again, almost meeting his hairline. “Unexpected,” he said. “I like it. What do you hope to gain from this internship?”
“Adventure.” She couldn’t help it. The word slipped out, but Demetri seemed pleased.
“Adventure,” he said, pushing away from his desk. “If adventure is what you desire, New Athens News can give it to you, Persephone. This position can look like anything you wish—it’s yours to craft and manage. If you want to report, you can report. If you want to edit, you can edit. If you want to get coffee, you get coffee.”
Persephone only had an interest in getting coffee for herself. She didn’t think she could be any more excited, but as Demetri spoke, she had the overwhelming feeling that this internship would change her life.
“I’m sure you know that we find ourselves in the media a lot,” he smiled wryly. “Ironic, considering we are a news source.”
New Athens News was well-known for the number of lawsuits filed against them. There were always complaints of defamation, slander, and invasion of privacy. Believe it or not, those weren’t the worst accusations leveled against the company. Apollo had accused them of being members of Triad, a group of Impious mortals who actively organized against the gods, supporting fairness, freewill, and freedom. The newspaper had denied the claim, of course, as Zeus had declared Triad a terrorist organization and threatened death to any caught with their propaganda.
What Zeus hadn’t anticipated—or perhaps had—was that the Faithful organized into cults and started a manhunt of their own, killing several who were openly Impious, uncaring if they were associated with Triad or not. It was a horrific time and it took Zeus longer than necessary to come out against the cults. New Athens News said so themselves.
“We seek truth, Persephone,” Demetri said. “There’s power in truth. Do you want power?”
He didn’t even know what he was asking.
“Yes,” she said. “I want power.”
This time when Demetri smiled, he showed his teeth. “Then you will do well here.”
Demetri showed Persephone to her desk, which sat just outside his office. She settled in, checking drawers, noting what supplies she would need to ask for or buy, and stored her purse. A new laptop sat on top. It was cool to the touch, and as she opened it, the dark screen reflected the face of a man. She turned in her chair and met a set of wide, surprised eyes.
“Adonis,” she said.
“Persephone.” He clutched a cup of coffee in one hand and wore a lavender button-up. He looked just as handsome as he did last night, only more professional. “I had no idea you were our new intern.”
“I had no idea you worked here,” she said.
“I’m a senior reporter, mostly focused on entertainment,” he said, rather smugly. “We missed you when you left last night.”
She left Hades’ club without telling Lexa and was almost home when she received a call from her worried friend. She’d felt bad, but Persephone hadn’t been able to stay in that dark tower any longer, and it would have been unfair to make Lexa come home just because of her mistake.
“Oh, yes, sorry. I wanted to prepare for my first day.”
“Not going to fault you for that. Well, welcome.”
“Adonis,” Demetri called as he stepped back into the doorframe of his office. “Mind giving Persephone here a tour of our floor?”
“Not at all.” He smiled at her. “Ready?”
Persephone followed Adonis. She was happy to see a familiar face, even if she had just met him last night. It made her feel more comfortable here.
“We call this the workroom. It’s where everyone follows leads and investigates,” he said.
People looked up from their desks and waved or smiled at her as they passed. Adonis indicated a wall of glassed-in rooms.
“Interview and conference rooms. Break room. Lounge.” He pointed to a huge room with various, casual sitting areas and warm, low light. It was cozy, and there were already several people nesting. “You’ll probably prefer to write in here when you get the chance.”
Adonis showed her to the supplies closet, and she raided it for pens, sticky notes, and notebooks. As he helped her carry her supplies back to her desk he asked, “So, what kind of journalism are you interested in?”
“I’m leaning toward investigative reporting,” she said.
“Oh, a detective, huh?”
“I like research,” she said.
“Any subject in particular?” he asked.
Hades.
The god’s name popped into her head without warning. She knew it was because of the mark on her wrist. She was anxious to get to Nevernight and figure out what it was.
“No, I just…like to solve mysteries,” she answered.
“Well then, maybe you can help us figure out who’s been stealing lunches from the fridge in the break room.”
Persephone laughed.
She got the feeling she was going to like it here.
CHAPTER IV – THE CONTRACT
Less than an hour after leaving the Acropolis, Persephone stood outside Nevernight, pounding on the pristine, black door. She’d taken the bus here and it had nearly driven her insane. She couldn’t sit still. Her mind had stirred up all sorts of fears and anxieties over what the mark might mean. Was this bracelet some sort of...claim? Was it something that would bind her soul to the Underworld? Or was it one of his horrible contracts?
She was about to find out, if someone would just answer this damn door!
“Hello!” she called. “Anyone there?”
She continued to pound on the door until her arms hurt. Just when she thought about giving up, the door flew open, the ogre who had been staffing it last night, glared at her. Persephone stumbled into him and quickly pushed away. In the daylight, he was even more gruesome looking. His thick skin sagged around his neck, and he stared at her with small, squinted eyes.
“What do you want?” His words were a snarl and it wasn’t lost on her that he could crush her skull with his hand alone.
“I must speak with Hades,” she said.
The ogre stared at her and then slammed the door closed.
That really pissed her off.
She banged on the door again. “Bastard! Let me in!”
She’d always known ogres existed, but she’d learned some of their weaknesses by reading a few books from Artemis’s Library at school. One of them? They hated being called names.
The ogre tore the door open again and snarled at her, blowing his stinking rot-breath in her face. He probably thought it would scare her away—and it had doubtless worked on others in the past, but not on Persephone. The mark on her wrist drove her. Her freedom was at stake.
A Touch of Darkness (Hades & Persephone #1) Page 4