“Gods gamble, too, Sephy,” he answered.
“Don’t call me that,” she said. “And why would gods gamble with Hades?”
“For the thrill,” Hermes said with a mischievous smile.
Persephone topped the stairs with Hermes in tow.
“Where are we going, Sephy?”
She thought it was funny that he included himself in that statement.
“I am going to Hades office,” she answered.
“He won’t be in there,” Hermes said, and it occurred to her that perhaps Hermes didn’t know about her and Hades’ bargain.
She looked at the god, and though she wasn’t here to see Hades, she still wondered aloud, “Then where is he?”
Hermes looked amused. “He is reviewing propositions for contracts across the way.”
Persephone’s jaw tightened, frustrated. Of course, he is, she thought.
“I’m not here for Hades,” she said, and hurried ahead to Hades office. Once inside, she dropped her backpack on the couch and rolled her shoulders, rubbing at the pain.
She looked up to find Hermes at the bar. He picked up various bottles, reading the labels. Whatever he had in his hands must have been appealing because he unscrewed it and poured it into an empty glass.
“Should you be doing that?” she asked.
The god shrugged. “Hades owes me, right? I saved your life.”
Persephone blushed, looking away.
“I owe you,” she said. “Not Hades.”
“Careful, Goddess,” Hermes said. “One bargain with a god is enough, don’t you think?”
She startled. “You know?”
Hermes smiled and only said, “Sephy, I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“You must think I’m incredibly stupid,” she said.
“No,” he said. “I think you were lured by Hades’ charms.”
“So, you agree that Hades has wronged me?”
“No,” he said. “I’m saying you’re attracted to Hades.”
Persephone rolled her eyes and turned from the god. She crossed Hades’ office and tried the invisible door behind his desk, but her hands didn’t sink into the surface like last time.
Her way into the Underworld was barred. Had he revoked her favor because she’d brought Adonis to Nevernight? Or was he angry because of how she’d left him in his throne room a few days before? Hadn’t he bestowed favor so she wouldn’t have to bother him?
The doors to Hades office rattled. Hermes grabbed Persephone and dragged her toward the mirror over the mantle. She resisted, but Hermes pressed his lips close to her ear and said, “Trust me, you’ll want to see this.”
He snapped his fingers, and Persephone felt her skin tighten across her bones. It was the strangest feeling and it didn’t go away, even when they were inside the mirror. The sensation was like being behind a waterfall and looking out at the hazy world.
She started to ask if they could be seen, but Hermes pressed a finger to his lips and said, “Shh.”
Hades came into view and Persephone’s breath caught—no matter how often she saw him, she didn’t think she’d ever get used to his beauty. Today he looked tense and severe. She wondered what had happened.
She soon received her answer.
Minthe followed close behind and Persephone felt a rush of hot jealousy. They were arguing.
“You are wasting your time!” she heard Minthe say.
“It’s not like I’m running out,” Hades snapped, clearly not wishing to listen to the nymph lecture him. Minthe’s face hardened.
“This is a club. Mortals bargain for their desires, they do not make requests of the God of the Underworld.”
“This club is what I say it is.”
Minthe glared at the god. “You think this will sway the goddess to think better of you?”
The goddess? Was Minthe referring to her?
Hades eyes darkened at the nymph’s comment. “I do not care what others think of me, and that includes you, Minthe.” The nymph’s face fell, and Hades continued, “I will hear her offer, Minthe.”
The nymph said nothing, and turned on her heels, walking out of sight. After a moment, a woman entered Hades’ office. She wore a beige trench coat, a large sweater, and jeans. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Despite being fairly young, she looked exhausted and Persephone didn’t need Hades’ powers to know that whatever burden she carried at this point in her life was heavy.
When the woman saw the god, she froze.
“You have nothing to fear,” Hades said, that warm baritone soothed, and the mortal was able to move again.
She offered a small, nervous laugh, and when she spoke her voice was rough.
“I told myself I wouldn’t hesitate,” she said. “I wouldn’t let fear get the best of me.”
Hades tilted his head to the side. Persephone knew that look—he was curious. “But you have been afraid. For a very long time.”
The woman nodded, and tears spilled down her face. She brushed at them fiercely, hands shaking. She offered that nervous laugh again. “I told myself I wouldn’t cry, either.”
“Why?”
Persephone was glad that Hades asked, because she was just as curious. When the woman met the god’s gaze, she was serious, her face still glistened with tears.
“The Divine are not moved by my pain.”
Persephone flinched—Hades did not.
“I suppose I cannot blame you,” the woman continued. “I am one in a million pleading for myself.”
Again, Hades tilted his head. “But you are not pleading for yourself, are you?”
The woman’s mouth quivered, and she answered in a whisper, “No.”
“Tell me,” he coaxed—it was like a spell, and the woman obeyed.
“My daughter.” The words were a sob. “She’s sick. Pineoblastoma. It’s an aggressive cancer. I wager my life for hers.”
“No!” Persephone said out loud, and Hermes quickly hushed her, but all she could think was—he can’t! He won’t!
Hades studied the woman for a long moment. “My wagers are not for souls like you,” he said.
Persephone started forward. She would come out of this mirror and fight for that woman, but Hermes held onto her shoulder tight.
“Wait,” he commanded.
Persephone held her breath.
“Please,” the woman whispered. “I will give you anything—whatever you want.”
Hades dared to laugh. “You could not give me what I want.”
The woman stared, and Persephone’s heart wrenched at the look in the woman’s eyes. She was defeated. The woman hung her head, and her shoulders shook as she sobbed into her hands.
“You were my last hope. My last hope.”
Hades approached her, placed his fingers under her chin, and lifted her head. After he brushed her tears away, he said, “I will not enter into a contract with you because I do not wish to take from you,” he said. “That does not mean I will not help you.”
The woman was shocked—Persephone was shocked, and Hermes chuckled under his breath.
“Your daughter has my favor. She will be well and just as brave as her mother, I think.”
“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” The woman threw her arms around Hades, and the god stiffened, clearly unsure of what to do with the woman. Finally, he conceded, and embraced her. After a moment, he pulled her away and said, “Go. See to your daughter.”
The woman took a few steps back and said, “You are the most generous god.”
Hades looked amused. “I will amend my previous statement. In exchange for my favor, you will tell no one I have aided you.”
The woman looked surprised. “But—”
Hades put up his hand—he would hear no argument.
Finally, the woman nodded. “Thank you,” she said and then turned to leave, practically racing out of the office. “Thank you!”
Hades watched the door for a moment before locking it with a snap of his fingers. Before she knew wh
at was happening, she and Hermes were falling out of the mirror. Persephone wasn’t prepared and hit the floor with a loud thud. Hermes landed on his feet.
“Rude,” the God of Trickery said to Hades.
“I could say the same,” The God of the Dead replied, his eyes falling unfavorably to Persephone as she got to her feet. “Hear everything you wanted?”
“I wanted to go to the Underworld, but someone revoked my favor.”
It was like she hadn’t even spoken. Hades gaze turned to Hermes. “I have a job for you, messenger.”
Hades snapped his fingers, and without warning, Persephone was dumped in her desolate garden on her backside. A growl of frustration erupted from her mouth, and as she got to her feet, brushing dirt off her clothes, she yelled to the sky.
“Ass!”
CHAPTER XI – A TOUCH OF DESIRE
Persephone watered her garden, cursing Hades as she worked. She hoped he could hear every word. She hoped it cut him deep. She hoped he felt it every time he moved.
He’d ignored her.
He’d dumped her in the Underworld like she was nothing.
She had questions. She had demands. She wanted to know why he’d helped the woman, why he’d demanded her silence? What was the difference in this woman’s request and Orpheus’ wish to bring Eurydice back from the dead?
When she finished watering her garden, she tried to teleport back to Hades’ office but found herself stuck. Why did he send her here? Did he have plans to find her after he was finished with Hermes? Would he restore her favor, or would she have to find him every time she wanted to enter the Underworld?
That would be annoying.
She must have made him very angry.
She decided she would explore his palace in his absence. She had only seen a few rooms—Hades’ office, bedchamber, and the throne room. She was curious about the rest, and it was well within her rights to explore. If Hades got mad, she could argue that, judging by the state of her garden, it would be her home in six months anyway.
As she investigated, she noted Hades’ attention to detail. There were gold accents, and various textures—fur rugs and velvet chairs. It was a luxurious palace, and she admired the beauty of it, just as she admired the beauty of Hades. She tried to argue with herself—it was in her nature to admire beauty. It didn't mean anything to think the God of the Dead and his palace were extraordinary. He was a god, after all.
Her exploration of the palace ended when she found the library.
It was magnificent. She had never seen anything like it—shelves and shelves of books with gorgeous, thick spines and gold embossing. The room itself was well furnished. A large hearth took up the far wall, flanked by dark shelves. These weren’t full of books, but ancient clay vases inked with images of Hades and the Underworld. She could imagine settling into one of the cozy chairs, curling her toes into the soft rug and reading.
This would be one of her favorite places, Persephone decided, if she lived here.
But she should not be thinking about living in the Underworld at all. Maybe, after all of this was over, Hades would extend his favor to the use of his library.
Then, she wondered idly, if there was a kiss for that.
She wandered down the stacks, brushing her fingers along the spines. She managed to pull a few history books and then searched for a table so she could look through them. She had thought she located one when she found what looked like a round table, but as she went to place the books on it, she discovered it was actually a basin full of dark water, similar to that of the Styx.
She sat the books on the floor to get a better look at the basin. As she stared, a map appeared before her. She could see the river Styx and the Lethe, Hades’ palace and gardens. Though the map appeared to sit in the black water, glorious color as vibrant as Hades’ gardens soon bled across the landscape. She found it funny that the God of the Dead, who wore so much black, took such pleasure in color.
“Hmm.” Persephone was sure this map was missing vital parts of the Underworld—like Elysium, and Tartarus.
“Strange,” she whispered, reaching into the basin.
“Curiosity is a dangerous quality, my lady.”
She gasped and turned to find Hades behind her. Her heart throbbed hard in her chest.
“I’m more than aware,” she snapped. The mark on her wrist had taught her that. “And don’t call me my lady.”
Hades watched her and when he didn’t say anything, Persephone spoke. “This map of your world is not complete.”
Hades glanced at the water. “What do you see?”
“Your palace, Asphodel,” she said. “The River Styx and the Lethe...that’s it.” All places she’d been before. “Where is Elysium? Tartarus?”
The corners of Hades mouth quirked. “The map will reveal them when you’ve earned the right to know.”
“What do you mean earned?”
“Only those I trust most may view this map in its entirety.”
She straightened. “Who can see the whole map?” He just smirked, so she demanded, “Can Minthe see the whole thing?”
His eyes narrowed and he asked, “Would that bother you, Lady Persephone?”
“No,” she lied.
His eyes hardened and his lips thinned. He turned then and disappeared into the stacks. She hurried to pick up the books she pulled from the shelf and followed after him.
“Why did you revoke my favor?” she demanded.
“To teach you a lesson,” he replied.
“To not bring mortals into your realm?”
“To not leave when you are angry with me,” he said.
“Excuse me?” she halted and set the books on a nearby shelf. She hadn’t expected that reply. Hades stopped, too, and faced her. They were standing in the narrow stacks, and the smell of dust floated in the air around them.
“You strike me as someone who has a lot of emotions and has never quite been taught how to deal with it all, but I can assure you, running away is not the solution.”
“I had nothing more to say to you.”
“It’s not about words,” he said. “I’d rather help you understand my motivations than have you spy on me.”
“It was not my intention to spy,” she said. “Hermes—”
“I know it was Hermes who pulled you into that mirror,” he said. “I do not wish for you leave and be angry with me.”
She should have taken his comment as endearing, but she couldn’t stop herself from sounding disgusted when she asked, “Why?”
It really wasn’t disgust; it was confusion. Hades was a god, why did he care what she thought of him?
“Because,” he said, and then thought for a moment. “It is important to me. I would rather explore your anger. I would hear your advice. I wish to understand your perspective.”
She started to open her mouth and ask why again, when he answered, “Because you have lived among mortals. You understand them better than I. Because you are compassionate.”
She swallowed and then managed, “Why did you help the mother tonight?”
“Because I wished to.”
“And Orpheus?”
Hades sighed, rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. “It isn’t so simple. Yes, I have the ability to resurrect the dead, but it does not work with everyone, especially where the Fates are involved,” he answered. “Eurydice’s life was cut short by the Fates for a reason. I cannot touch her.”
“But the girl?”
“She wasn’t dead, just in limbo. I can bargain with the Fates for lives in limbo.”
“What do you mean bargain with the Fates?”
“It is a fragile thing,” he said. “If I ask the Fates to spare one soul, I do not get a say in the life of another.”
“But...you are the God of the Underworld!”
“And the Fates are Divine,” he said. “I must respect their existence as they respect mine.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
Hades raised a br
ow. “Doesn’t it? Or is it that it doesn’t sound fair to mortals?”
It was exactly that. “So, mortals are to suffer for the sake of your game?”
Hades jaw tightened. “It is not a game, Persephone.”
Hades voice was stern, and it gave her pause.
“Least of all mine.”
She glared at him. “So, you have offered an explanation for part of your behavior, but what of the other bargains?”
Hades eyes darkened, and he took a step toward her in the already-restricted space. “Are you asking for yourself or the mortals you claim to defend?”
“Claim?” She would show him—her arguments against his tricks were not for show.
“You only became interested in my business ventures after you entered into a contract with me.”
“Business ventures? Is that what you call willfully misleading me?”
His brows rose. “So, this is about you.”
“What you have done is unjust—not just to me but to all the mortals—”
“I do not want to talk about mortals. I would like to talk about you.”
Hades moved toward her, and she took a step away, the bookcase pressed into her back.
“Why did you invite me to your table?”
Persephone glared and looked away. “You said you’d teach me.”
“Teach you what, Goddess?” he asked. He stared at her a moment, eyes seductive and dark. Then his head dropped into the crook of her neck, and his lips brushed lightly over her skin. “What did you truly desire to learn then?”
“Cards,” she whispered, but she could barely breathe, and she knew that she was lying. She’d wanted to learn him—the feel of him, the smell of him, the power of him.
He whispered words against her skin. “What else?”
She dared to turn her head then, and his lips brushed hers. Her breath caught hard in her throat. She couldn’t answer—wouldn’t. His mouth remained close to hers, but he did not kiss her, he waited.
“Tell me.”
His voice was hypnotic, and his warmth had her under a wicked spell. He was the adventure she craved. He was temptation she wanted to indulge. He was a sin she wanted to commit.
Her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted. She thought he might claim her then, but when he didn’t, she took a deep breath, her chest rising against his, and said, “Just cards.”
A Touch of Darkness (Hades & Persephone #1) Page 13