“Are they...celebrating something?” Persephone asked.
Hecate smiled. “It is market day,” she said. “Would you like to explore?”
“Very much,” Persephone said.
Hecate took the young goddess’s hand and teleported, landing on the ground inside the valley.
When the goddess looked up, she could see Hades’ palace rising tall toward his muted sky. She realized it was similar to the way Nevernight towered over the mortals in the world above. It was both beautiful and ominous, and Persephone wondered what feelings the sight of their King’s tower inspired.
The path they followed through Asphodel was lined with lanterns. Souls wandered about, looking as solid as living humans. Now that Persephone was on ground level, she saw that the colorful tents were filled with a variety of goods—apples and oranges, figs and pomegranates. Others held beautifully embroidered scarves and woven blankets.
“You are puzzled?” Hecate asked.
“I just...where does all this stuff come from?” Persephone asked.
“It is made by the souls.”
“Why?” Persephone was confused. The dead did not need any of this stuff.
“I think you misunderstand what it means to be dead,” Hecate said. “Souls still have feeling and perception. It pleases them to live a familiar existence.”
“Lady Hecate!” a soul called.
Once one of the souls spotted the goddess, others did, too and approached. They bowed and grasped her hands. Hecate smiled and touched every soul. She introduced Persephone as the Goddess of Spring. At that, the souls seemed confused.
“We do not know the Goddess of Spring.” Of course, they didn’t—no one did.
Until now.
“She is the daughter of the Goddess of Harvest,” Hecate explained. “She will be spending time with us here in the Underworld.”
Persephone blushed. She felt compelled to offer an explanation, but what was she supposed to say? I entered into a game with your lord and he held me to a contract I must fulfill? She decided staying silent was best.
She and Hecate walked for a long while, exploring the market. Souls offered them everything—fine silk and jewels, fresh breads and chocolate. Then a young girl ran up to Persephone with a small, white flower. She held it out in her pale hand, bright-eyed, looking as alive as ever. It was a strange sight, and it made Persephone’s heart feel heavy.
Persephone's gaze fell to the flower. She hesitated because if she touched the petal, it would shrivel. Instead, she bent and allowed the soul to thread the flower into her hair. After, several more souls of all ages approached her to offer flowers.
By the time she and Hecate left Asphodel, a crown of flowers decorated Persephone’s head and her face hurt from smiling so much.
“The crown suits you,” she said.
“They are just flowers,” Persephone said.
“Accepting them from the souls means a lot,” Hecate said.
Persephone and Hecate continued toward the palace, and as they crested a hill, Persephone stopped short, finding Hades in the clearing. He was shirtless and chiseled, sweat glistening over his defined back and biceps. His arm was back as he prepared to throw the red ball his three hounds had brought her earlier.
For a moment, she felt panicked, like she was intruding or seeing something she wasn’t meant to see—this moment of abandon where he was engaged in something so...mortal.
It ignited something low in her stomach, a fluttering that spread to her chest.
Hades threw the ball, his strength and power evident in how impossibly far it went.
The hounds bolted and Hades laughed, deep and loud. She froze. It was warm like his skin and echoed in her chest.
Then the god turned, and his eyes found Persephone immediately, as if he were drawn to her. Her eyes widened as she took him in. His skin was sun-kissed and her eyes trailed from his broad shoulders to the deep v of his abs. He was beautiful—a work of art, carefully sculpted. When she managed to look at his face again, she found Hades smirking, and she quickly averted her eyes, blushing.
Hecate marched forward, like she wasn’t even fazed by Hades’ physique.
“You know they never behave for me after you spoil them,” Hecate said.
Hades grinned. “They grow lazy under your care, Hecate.”
Then his eyes slid to Persephone. “I see you have met the Goddess of Spring.”
“Yes, and she is quite lucky I did. How dare you not warn her to stay away from the Lethe!”
Hades eyes widened, and Persephone tried not to smile at Hecate’s tone. When the Goddess of Witchcraft was finished lecturing Hades, his eyes fell on Persephone. She felt flushed under his gaze.
“It seems I owe you an apology, Lady Persephone.”
Persephone wanted to tell him he owed her far more—but she couldn’t make her mouth work. The way Hades looked at her took her breath away. She swallowed hard and was relieved when a horn sounded in the distance. Persephone watched both Hecate and Hades turn in its direction.
“I am being summoned,” she said.
“Summoned?”
Hecate smiled. “The judges are in need of my advice.”
Persephone didn’t understand, and Hecate didn’t explain.
“My dear, call the next time you are in the Underworld. We’ll return to Asphodel.”
“I would love that,” Persephone said.
With that, Hecate vanished, leaving her alone with Hades.
“Why would the Judges need Hecate’s advice?”
Hades cocked his head to the side, as if he were trying to decide whether he should tell her the truth.
“Hecate is the Lady of Tartarus,” Hades explained, “And particularly good at deciding punishments for the wicked.”
Persephone shivered. “Where is Tartarus?”
“I would tell you if I thought you would use the knowledge to avoid it.”
“You think I want to visit your torture chamber?”
He leveled his dark gaze upon her.
“I think you are curious,” he said. “And eager to prove I am as the world assumes, a deity to be feared.”
“You are afraid I will write about what I see.”
He chuckled. “Fear is not the word, darling.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course, you fear nothing.”
Hades responded by reaching to pluck a flower from her hair. “Did you enjoy Asphodel?”
“I did,” she said, smiling. She couldn’t help it. Everyone had been so kind. “Your souls...they seem so happy.”
“You are surprised?”
“Well, you aren’t exactly known for your kindness,” Persephone said, and then regretted the harshness of her words.
Hades’ jaw tightened, and then he said, “I’m not known for my kindness to mortals. There is a difference.”
“Is that why you play games with their lives?” she asked.
Hades’ eyes narrowed, and she could feel the tension rise between them, like the restless waters of the Styx.
“I seem to recall advising that I would answer no more of your questions.”
Persephone’s mouth fell open. “You cannot be serious.”
“As the dead,” he said.
“But...how will I get to know you?”
He tilted his head to the side, that stupid smirk on his face. “You want to get to know me?”
She averted her gaze, and her cheeks flushed. “I’m being forced to spend time here, right? Shouldn’t I get to know my jailer better?”
“So dramatic,” he said, but he was quiet for a moment, considering.
“Oh, no,” Persephone said.
Hades looked surprised. “What?”
“I know that look.”
He raised a curious brow. “What look?”
“You get this...look. When you know what you want.”
She felt ridiculous saying that out loud.
His eyes darkened and his voice lowered. “Do I?” He paused. �
�Can you guess what I want?”
“I’m not a mind reader!”
“Pity,” he said and then, “if you would like to ask questions, then I propose a game.”
“No. I’m not falling for that again.”
“No contract,” he said. “No favors owed, just questions answered—like you want.”
She lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes. “Fine. But I get to pick the game.”
He hadn’t expected that—and the surprise showed on his face. Then he grinned. “Very well, Goddess.”
CHAPTER IX – ROCK, PAPER, SCISSORS
“This game sounds horrible,” Hades complained standing in the middle of his study—a beautiful room with floor to ceiling windows, and a large obsidian fireplace. He’d found a shirt in the time they’d returned to the palace, and Persephone was only glad because his nakedness would have proved a distraction during their game.
“You’re just mad because you haven’t played.”
“It sounds simple enough—rock beats scissors, scissors beats paper, and paper beats rock—how exactly does paper beat rock?”
“Paper covers rock,” Persephone said.
Hades did not appreciate her reasoning and the goddess shrugged. “Why is an ace a wildcard?”
“Because it’s the rules.”
“Well, it’s a rule that paper covers rock,” she said. “Ready?”
They lifted their hands, and Persephone couldn’t help giggling. Witnessing the God of the Dead playing rock-paper-scissors should be on every mortal’s bucket list.
“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” they said in unison.
“Yes!” Persephone squealed. “Rock beats scissors!”
She mimicked smashing Hades’ scissors with her fist—the god looked confused.
“Damn. I thought you’d choose paper.”
“Why?”
“Because you just sang paper’s praises.”
“Only because you asked why paper covers rock. This isn’t poker, Hades—it’s not about deception.”
He met her gaze, eyes burning. “Isn’t it?”
She looked away, drawing in a breath before she asked, “You said you had successes before with your contracts. Tell me about them.”
Hades moved to a bar cabinet across the room. He poured his drink of choice—whisky—and took a seat on his black leather sofa.
“What is there to tell? I have offered many mortals the same contract over the years. In exchange for money, fame, love—they must give up their vice. Some mortals are stronger than others and conquer their habit.”
“Conquering a disease is not about strength, Hades.”
“No one said anything about disease.”
“Addiction is a disease. It cannot be cured. It must be managed.”
“It is managed,” he argued.
“How? With more contracts?”
“That is another question.”
She lifted her hands, and they played another round. When she drew rock and he scissors, she didn’t celebrate but demanded, “How, Hades?”
“I do not ask them to give everything up at once. It is a slow process.”
They played again, and this time, Hades won. “What would you do?”
She blinked. “What?”
“What would you change? To help them?”
Her mouth fell open a little at his question, and then she said. “First, I would not allow a mortal to gamble their soul away. Second, if you are going to request a bargain, challenge them to go to rehab if they’re an addict—and do one better—pay for it. If I had all the riches in the world as you, I’d spend it helping people.”
He studied her a moment.
“And if they relapsed?”
“Then what?” she asked. “Life is hard out there, Hades, and sometimes living it is penance enough. Mortals need hope, not threats of punishment.”
Silence stretched between them, and then Hades lifted his hands—another game. This time, when Hades won, he took her wrist and pulled her to him. He laid her palm flat, his fingers brushing the bandage Hecate had helped her tie.
“What happened?”
She offered a breathy laugh and said, “It’s nothing compared to bruised ribs.”
Hades face hardened, and he said nothing. After a moment, he pressed a kiss to her palm, and she felt the healing warmth of his lips seal her skin. It happened so quickly she had no time to pull away.
“Why does it bother you so much?” She wasn’t sure why she was whispering. She guessed it was because this all felt so intimate—the way they sat, facing each other on the couch, leaning so close she could kiss him.
Instead of answering, he placed a hand on the side of her face and Persephone swallowed thickly. If he kissed her now, she wouldn’t be responsible for what happened next.
Then the door to Hades’ study opened, and Minthe entered the room. She wore an electric blue dress that hugged her curves in ways that left little to the imagination. Persephone was surprised by the shock of jealousy that ricocheted through her, and she had a thought that if she were mistress of the Underworld, Minthe would always wear turtlenecks and knock before she entered any room.
The flaming-haired nymph stopped short when she saw Persephone sitting beside Hades, her anger obvious. A smile curled Persephone’s lips at the thought that Minthe might be jealous.
The god withdrew his hand from her face, and asked in an irritated voice, “Yes, Minthe?”
“My lord, Charon has requested your presence in the throne room.”
“Has he said why?”
“He has caught an intruder.”
Persephone looked confused. “An intruder? How? Would they not drown in the Styx?”
“If Charon caught an intruder it’s likely he attempted to sneak onto his ferry,” he said.
Hades stood and held out his hand. “Come, you will join me.”
Persephone took his hand—a move that Minthe watched with fire in her eyes. She twisted on her heels and left the study ahead of them. They followed her down the hall and to his throne room. It was cavernous, the ceilings high. Rounded glass windows let in muted light. Black flags bearing images of gold narcissus flanked either side of the room. Hades throne sat upon a precipice. Like him, it was sculpted and looked as if it were composed of thousands of pieces of shattered and sharp obsidian.
A man with mocha skin stood there near the precipice. He was draped in white and crowned with gold. His hair was long, and two braids hung over his shoulders, clamped with gold. His dark eyes first fell upon Hades, and then to her.
Persephone tested Hades’ grip on her hand, but the god only held her tighter, guiding her past the Ferryman and up the steps to his throne. Hades waved his hand, and a smaller throne materialized beside his own. Persephone hesitated.
“You are a goddess. You will sit in a throne,” he said, guiding her to be seated. It was only then that he released her hand. He took his place upon his throne. She thought for a moment that he might drop his glamour, but he didn’t.
“Charon, to what do I owe the interruption?” Hades asked
“You’re Charon?” Persephone asked, shocked.
He looked nothing like the drawings in her Ancient Greek textbook. He was either an old man, a skeleton, or a figure cloaked in black. This version almost resembled a god—beautiful and charming.
Charon grinned, and Hades jaw tightened.
“I am, indeed, my lady,” he said, bowing his head.
“Please call me Persephone,” she said.
“My lady will do,” Hades said sharply. “I am growing impatient, Charon.”
The ferryman bowed his head. Persephone got the sense Charon was amused by Hades’ mood. “My lord, a man named Orpheus was caught sneaking onto my ferry. He wishes for an audience with you.”
“Show him in. I am eager to return to my conversation with Lady Persephone.”
Charon snapped his fingers, and a man appeared before them on his knees, hands tied behind his back. Persephone inh
aled, surprised by the manner in which he’d been restrained. The man’s curly hair was plastered to his forehead, still dripping with river water from the Styx. He looked defeated.
“Is he dangerous?” Persephone asked.
Charon looked at Hades, and so Persephone did, too.
“You can see to his soul. Is he dangerous?” she asked again.
She could tell by the way the veins in his neck rose that he was gritting his teeth. Finally, he said, “No.”
“Then release him from those bindings.”
Hades eyes bore into hers. Finally, he turned to the man and waved his hand. When the bonds disappeared, he fell forward, hitting the floor. As he climbed to his feet, he looked at Persephone. “Thank you, my lady.”
“Why have you come to the Underworld?” Hades asked. Persephone was impressed. The mortal kept Hades’ gaze and showed no sign of fear.
“I have come for my wife,” he said. Hades did not respond, and the man continued. “I wish to propose a contract—my soul in exchange for hers.”
“I do not trade in souls, mortal,” the god answered.
“My lord, please—”
Hades held up his hand, and then the man turned his gaze to Persephone, pleading.
“Do not look upon her for aid, mortal. She cannot help you.”
Persephone took that as a challenge.
“Tell me of your wife,” Persephone said. She felt Hades gaze burn into her.
“She died a day after we were married.”
“I am sorry. How did she die?”
“She just went to sleep and never woke up.” His voice broke.
“You lost her so suddenly.” Persephone felt such sympathy for the man, who stood broken before them.
“The Fates cut her life-thread,” Hades said. “I cannot return her to the living, and I will not bargain to return souls to the living.”
Persephone’s fists curled. She wanted to argue with the god in that moment—before Minthe and Charon and this mortal. Is that not what he had done during The Great War? Bargained with the gods to bring back their heroes?
A Touch of Darkness (Hades & Persephone #1) Page 11