“Lord Hades, please—” Orpheus choked. “I love her.”
Something hard and cold settled in her stomach when she heard Hades laugh—a single harsh bark.
“You may have loved, mortal, but you did not come here for her. You came for yourself.” Hades reclined in his throne. “I will not grant your request. Charon.”
The daimon’s name was a command, and with a snap of his wrist, both he and Orpheus were gone. Persephone seethed. She was surprised when Hades broke the silence.
“You wish to tell me to make an exception.”
“You wish to tell me why it’s not possible,” she countered.
His lips twitched. “I cannot make an exception for one person, Persephone. Do you know how often I am petitioned to return souls from the Underworld?”
She imagined often, but still.
“You barely offered him a voice,” she said. “They were only married for a day, Hades.”
“Tragic,” he said.
She glared at him. “Are you so heartless?”
“They are not the first to have a tragic love story, Persephone, nor will they be the last, I imagine.”
“You have brought mortals back for less,” she said.
Hades looked at her. “Love is a selfish reason to bring the dead back.”
“And war isn’t?”
Hades’ eyes darkened.
“You speak of what you do not know, Goddess.”
“Tell me how you picked sides, Hades,” she said.
“I didn’t.”
“Just like you didn’t offer Orpheus another option. Would it have been relinquishing your control to offer him even a glimpse of his wife, safe and happy in the Underworld?”
“How dare you speak to Lord Hades—” Minthe began, but she stumbled when Persephone glared at her. She wished she had powers because she would turn Minthe into a plant.
“Enough.” Hades stood, and Persephone followed. “We are done here.”
“Shall I show Persephone out?” Minthe asked.
“You may call her Lady Persephone,” Hades said. “And no. We are not finished.”
Minthe did not take her dismissal well, but she left, her heels clicking against the marble as she went. Persephone watched Minthe leave until she felt Hades’ fingers under her chin. He lifted her eyes to his.
“It seems you have a lot of opinions on how I manage my realm.”
“You showed him no compassion,” she said. He looked at her for a moment but said nothing and she wondered what he was thinking. “Worse, you mocked the love he had for his wife.”
“I questioned his love. I did not mock it.”
“Who are you to question love?”
“A god, Persephone.”
She glared at him. “All of your power and you do nothing with it but hurt.” He flinched at that and she continued. “How can you be so passionate and not believe in love?”
Hades offered a humorless laugh. “Because passion doesn’t need love, darling.”
Persephone knew just as well as he did that lust fueled the passion they shared, and yet she was surprised and angered by his response. Why? He had not treated her with compassion, and she was a goddess. Perhaps she had hoped to see him moved by Orpheus’ plea as she had been. Maybe she had hoped to see a different god in the moment—one who would prove all her assumptions wrong.
And yet, it had only confirmed them.
“You are a ruthless god,” she said, and snapped her fingers, leaving Hades alone in his throne room.
CHAPTER X – TENSION
Persephone arrived at the Acropolis early on Monday. She wanted to start her article, and Hades had given her more than enough to work with during her visit to the Underworld. She was still angry with Hades for how he had treated Orpheus. She could still hear his bitter laugh at the poor man’s expression of love for his deceased wife, and it made her feel cold.
At least he had shown his true nature—and he had done so at the precise instant she had begun to think he possessed a conscience.
The Fates must be on her side, she thought.
When she stepped off the elevator on her floor, she found Adonis standing at the front with Valerie. He was leaning over her desk chatting. They seemed surprised when she arrived, and Persephone felt like she was intruding on a private moment.
“Persephone, you’re here early.” Adonis cleared his throat and straightened.
“Just hoping to get a head start. I have a lot to do,” she said, and passed them, heading straight for her desk.
Adonis followed. “How’d Nevernight go?”
She froze for a moment. “What do you mean?”
“Hades invited you to Nevernight before we left the interview. How did it go?”
Oh, right. You are too paranoid, Persephone, she thought.
“It was fine,” she answered, stowing her purse and opening her laptop.
“I thought he might convince you not to write about him.”
Persephone took a seat. She hadn’t considered that Hades’ intention in inviting her on a tour of the Underworld might be a tactic to keep her from writing about him.
She looked up at Adonis and answered. “At this point, nothing could convince me not to write about him. Even Hades himself.”
Especially Hades. Every time he opened his mouth, she found another reason to dislike him, even if that mouth inflamed her.
Adonis smiled, oblivious to her treacherous thoughts. “You’re going to make a great journalist, Persephone.” He took a step back and pointed at her. “Don’t forget to send me the article. You know, when you’re finished.”
“Right,” she said.
When she was alone, she attempted to sort out her thoughts on the God of the Dead. So far, she felt like she’d seen two sides to him. One was a manipulative, powerful god who’d been exiled from the world so long he didn’t seem to understand people. That same god had bound her to a contract with the very hands he’d used to heal her. He’d been so careful and gentle until it came to kissing, and then his passion was barely restrained.
It was like he starved for her.
But that couldn’t be true—because he was a god and he had lived for centuries, which meant centuries of experience and she was only obsessing over this because she had none.
She hung her head in her hands, frustrated with herself. She needed to reignite the anger she felt when Hades had so arrogantly admitted to abusing his power under the pretense that he was helping mortals. Her eyes fell to the notes she’d taken after interviewing Hades. She’d written so fast, the words were hardly legible, but after a few careful readings, she was able to piece it together.
If it is help Hades truly wants to offer, he should challenge the addict to rehab. Why not go a step further and pay for it?
She sat up a little straighter and typed that out, feeling the anger spark in her bloodstream again. It was like flame to an accelerant, and soon her fingers flew across the keys, adding word after angry word.
I see the soul. What burdens it, what corrupts it, what destroys it—and challenge it.
Those words pierced all the wrong parts of her. What was it like to be the God of the Underworld? To only see the struggle, the pain, and the vices of others?
It sounded miserable.
He must be miserable, she decided. Tired of being the God of the Dead, he inserted himself in the fate of mortal lives for entertainment. What did he have to lose?
Nothing.
She stopped typing and sat back, taking a deep breath.
She had never felt so many emotions about a single person before. She was angry with him, and curious, caught between surprise and disgust at the things he had created and the things he said. At war with both of those was the extreme attraction she felt when she was with him. How could she want him? He represented the opposite of everything she’d dreamed of in her whole life. He was her jailer when all she’d wanted was freedom.
Except that he had freed something inside her.
Something long-repressed and never explored.
Passion and lust and desire—probably all the things Hades looked for in a burdened soul.
She flexed her fingers over the keyboard. She started to imagine what it would be like to kiss him with all this anger in her veins.
Stop! She commanded herself, biting down hard on her lip. This is ridiculous.
Hades is the enemy.
He is your enemy.
He only kissed her to bestow favor so she wouldn’t cause any chaos for him. More than likely, her near-death experience in the Underworld had taken him away from important things.
Like Minthe.
She rolled her eyes and focused on her screen again, reading the last line she’d typed.
If this is the god we are presented with in our life, what god will we meet upon our death? What hopes can we have of a happy afterlife?
Those words stung, and she knew she was probably being a little unfair. After touring part of the Underworld, it was clear Hades cared about his realm and those who occupied it. Why else would he go through the trouble of maintaining such a grand illusion?
Because it likely benefits him, she reminded herself. It’s obvious he likes pretty things, Persephone. Why wouldn’t he cultivate a pretty realm?
She was interrupted from her work when her desk phone rang. The sound scared her, and she jumped, quickly picking up the receiver to silence the sound.
“Persephone speaking,” she said. Her heart was still racing, and she took a deep breath to calm herself.
“Persephone, it’s Valerie. I think your mother is here?”
Her mother? Her racing heart fell into her stomach. What was Demeter doing here? She worried her lip for a moment—had Demeter found out about her visit to the Underworld over the weekend? She recalled her words in the Garden of the Gods—Need I remind you a condition of your time here was that you stay away from the gods? Especially Hades. She still hadn’t figured out how her mother knew she was at Nevernight, but she assumed the Goddess of Harvest probably had a spy among those at Hades’ club.
“I’ll be right up.” Persephone managed to keep her voice even.
It was easy to spot Demeter. She looked as close to her Divine form as possible, maintaining her sun-kissed glow and bright eyes. Today she wore a light pink sundress and white heels.
“My flower!” Demeter approached her with open arms, pulling Persephone into a hug.
“Mother.” Persephone pushed away. “What are you doing here?”
Demeter looked surprised. “It’s Monday.”
It took a moment for Persephone to realize that was Demeter’s answer, and then another moment to remember what Monday meant.
Oh no.
The color drained from Persephone’s face.
How could she have forgotten? Every Monday she and her mother had lunch, but with everything that had happened in the last few days, it completely slipped her mind.
“There is a lovely café down the street,” Demeter continued, but Persephone sensed the tightness in her voice. She knew Persephone had forgotten, and she didn’t like it. “I thought we might try it today. What do you think?”
Persephone thought that she didn’t want to be alone with her mother. Not to mention she had just gained the momentum needed to write this article about Hades. If she stopped now, she might not finish.
“Mother, I’m…so sorry.” Those words felt like glass coming out of her mouth. They were a lie, of course. She wasn’t sorry for what she was about to say. “I’m really busy today. Can we reschedule.”
Demeter blinked. “Reschedule?”
She said the word like she had never heard it before. Her mother hated when things didn’t go her way, and Persephone had never asked to reschedule. She’d always remembered lunch like she’d always remembered her mother’s rules—two things she’d ignored in the last week.
She knew her mother was making a list of offenses she had committed against her and it was just a matter of time before Demeter made her pay.
“I’m so sorry, mother,” Persephone said again.
Demeter finally met her gaze. The Goddess of Harvest was furious, and yet she managed in a perfectly flat tone, “Another time, then.”
Demeter turned on her heels without saying goodbye and left.
Persephone released the breath she’d been holding. She’d spent all this time preparing to fight with her mother, and now that the adrenaline was gone, she felt exhausted.
“Wow, your mother is beautiful.” Valerie’s comment drew Persephone’s gaze. The girl had a dreamy look on her face. “It’s too bad you couldn’t go to lunch with her.”
“Yeah,” Persephone said.
She made her way back to her desk slowly, weighed down by a cloud of guilt until she noticed Adonis standing behind her chair, looking at her laptop screen.
“Adonis,” she said, and slammed her laptop closed as she approached. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, hey, Persephone,” he smiled. “Just reading your article.”
“It’s not finished.” She tried to remain calm, but it was hard. She felt like he’d just invaded her privacy.
“I think it’s good,” he said. “You’ve really got something.”
“Thanks, but I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t look at my computer, Adonis,” she said.
He sort of laughed. “I’m not going to steal your work if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I told you I’d send the article when I was finished.”
He put his hands up and stepped away from her desk. “Hey, calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” she said between her teeth. She hated when people told her to calm down. It was disparaging and only made her angrier.
“I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I don’t really care what you meant,” she snapped.
Adonis was finally silent. She guessed he realized he wasn’t going to be able to charm his way out of this one.
“Everything okay out here?” Demetri appeared at his door. Persephone glared at Adonis.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Adonis said.
“Persephone?” Demetri asked, looking at her expectantly.
She should have told him no, that in fact, everything was not fine—that she was balancing an impossible contract with the God of the Underworld and hiding the fact from her mother, who would ensure she never saw the gleaming skyscrapers of New Athens again if she found out. On top of that, this mortal seemed to think it was perfectly acceptable to read her personal thoughts—because that’s what this was, a draft of an article she was planning.
And maybe that’s why she was so angry.
Because the words she’d written were raw, angry, and impassioned. They made her vulnerable and if she opened her mouth to contradict Adonis, she wasn’t sure what would come out.
She took a deep breath before forcing the words out of her mouth, “Yeah, everything’s fine.”
And when she saw the smug expression on Adonis’s face, she got the sense she’d regret lying.
***
A few days later, Persephone was late getting to Nevernight. Her study group had run over, and though she was tired, she knew she needed to check on her garden. The dirt in the Underworld held moisture like the desert, which meant she had to water her garden everyday if she wanted it to have a chance in hell of surviving.
She stepped off the bus in yoga pants and a tank. She’d pulled her long hair into a messy bun at the start of her study session and hadn’t bothered to even look in the mirror. She was only thinking about it now because a line of glamorous people were waiting to enter Hades’ club and staring at her like she had talons and wings.
You aren’t here to impress anyone, she reminded herself. Just get in there and get to the Underworld as soon as possible.
She hadn’t wanted to waste time running home to change just to water a garden, and the thought of squeezing into a dress and heels at this
point in the day made her cringe. Hades would just have to deal with it.
She adjusted the straps of her heavy backpack, wincing at the soreness in her shoulders, and marched toward the door.
Mekonnen emerged from the dark. He wore a scowl until he recognized her and then a charming, yellow smile spread across his face.
“My lady—I mean, Persephone,” he said, reaching for the door.
“Good evening, Mekonnen.” She grinned at the ogre as she passed into the club.
Persephone paused in the dark foyer. She preferred not to enter the club proper and decided to teleport. She snapped her fingers and expected to feel the familiar shift in the air around her.
But nothing happened.
She tried again.
Still nothing.
Frustrated, she decided she would go to Hades’ office and enter the Underworld there. She kept her head down as she cut through the packed floor of the club. She knew people were staring. She could feel her face growing flush with their judgment.
A hand clamped down on her shoulder. She turned, expecting to find an ogre or another one of Hades’ employees. She imagined they were stopping her because of the way she was dressed. An argument was poised on the tip of her tongue, but when she turned, she looked into a familiar pair of gold eyes.
“Hermes,” she said, relieved. Even glamoured up, he was ridiculously handsome. His golden hair was perfectly styled—shorn on the sides, long curls on the top. He wore a white shirt and grey pants, a drink already in hand.
“Sephy!” he exclaimed. “What are you wearing?”
She looked down at herself, though she didn’t need to. She knew perfectly well what she was wearing.
“I just came from class.”
“College chic,” he raised his golden brows. “Hot.”
She rolled her eyes and twisted away from him, making her way toward the steps. The God of Trickery followed.
“What are you doing here?” Persephone asked.
“Well, I am the messenger of the gods,” he said.
“No, what are you doing here? On the floor of Nevernight?” she clarified.
A Touch of Darkness (Hades & Persephone #1) Page 12