A Touch of Darkness (Hades & Persephone #1)

by Scarlett St. Clair

  “Ah,” Thanatos said, as if he understood now. “You misunderstand. Hades does not decide when souls come to the Underworld. The Fates do.”

  “But he is the Lord of the Underworld. He makes the contracts!”

  “Hades is the Lord of the Underworld, but he is not death, nor is he destiny. You may see a bargain with a mortal, but Hades is really bargaining with the Fates. He can see the thread of each human’s life, knows when their soul is burdened, and wishes to change the trajectory. Sometimes the Fates weave a new future, sometimes they cut the thread.”

  “Surely he has influence?”

  Thanatos shrugged. “It is a balance. We all understand that. Hades cannot save every soul and not every soul wants to be saved.”

  She was quiet for a long moment. She realized now that she hadn’t really been listening to Hades at all. He had told her before that the Fates were involved in his decision-making, and that it was a balance—a give and take. Yet, she hadn’t thought twice about his words.

  She hadn’t thought about a lot of things.

  But that didn’t change the fact that he could offer mortals a better path to overcome their struggles. What it did mean, was that Hades’ intentions were far nobler than anything Persephone had given him credit for.

  “Why didn’t he tell me?” she asked, suddenly angry.

  Why did he let her think those horrible things about him? Did he want her to hate him?

  Thanatos kept smiling. “Lord Hades is not in the habit of trying to convince the world he is a good god.”

  You are the worst sort of god, she’d told him.

  Her chest tightened at the memory of the words. She could not reconcile her feelings. While she was relieved Hades was not as monstrous or uncaring as she first believed, why had he drawn her into a contract? What did he see when he looked at her?

  Thanatos offered his arm to Persephone, and she accepted. They strolled through the field. Unlike Asphodel, the souls here were quiet and content to be alone. It didn’t even seem like they realized two gods walked among them.

  “Do they speak?” she asked.

  “Yes, but souls who reside in Elysium must drink from the Lethe. They cannot have memories from their time in the Upperworld if they are to reincarnate.”

  “How can they heal if they do not possess memory?”

  “No soul has ever healed by dwelling on the past,” Thanatos answered.

  “When do they reincarnate?”

  “When they heal.”

  “And how long does it take for them to heal?”

  “It varies...months, years, decades, but there is no rush,” Thanatos answered. “All we have is time.”

  She supposed that was true of all souls—living or dead.

  “There are a few souls who will incarnate within the week,” Thanatos said. “I believe the souls in Asphodel are planning a celebration. You should join them.”

  “What about you?” Persephone asked.

  He offered a small laugh. “I do not think the souls wish to have their reaper join them for a celebration.”

  “How do you know?”

  Thanatos opened his mouth, and then admitted, “I suppose I don’t.”

  “I think you should go. We all should, even Hades.”

  Thanatos looked thoroughly amused. “You can count on my presence, my lady, though, I cannot speak for Lord Hades.”

  They walked a little while in silence, and then Persephone said, “Hades does so much for his souls...except...live alongside them.”

  Thanatos did not answer immediately, and Persephone paused, facing the God of the Dead.

  “When Asphodel celebrated him, he told me he did not go because he wasn’t worthy of their celebration. Why?”

  “Lord Hades carries many burdens, as we all do. The heaviest of them is regret.”

  “Regret for what?”

  “That he was not always so generous.”

  Persephone let that comment sink in. So, Hades regretted his past, and therefore refused to celebrate his present? That was ridiculous and damaging. Maybe the reason he never tried to change what others thought of him was because he believed all of the things people said.

  He probably believed her, which is why her words were so important to him.

  “Come, my lady,” Thanatos said. “I will show you back to the palace.”

  As the two walked, she asked, “How long has it been since he hosted a party at the palace?”

  Thanatos’ brows rose. “I don’t know that he ever has.”

  That was about to change—and so was Hades’ opinion of himself.

  Before Persephone left the Underworld, she stopped to let Hecate know her plans, and also informed her of her new-found ability to sense life.

  Hecate’s eyes widened. “You are sure?”

  She nodded. “Can you help me, Hecate?”

  She was glad to sense magic, but she had no idea how to harness it. If she could learn how to use it and fast, she could fulfill the terms of her contract with Hades.

  “My dear,” Hecate said. “Of course, I’ll help you.”

  CHAPTER XXI – A TOUCH OF INSANITY

  When Persephone returned home on Sunday, she stayed up late and worked on her article, finishing around five o’clock in the morning. She decided to write about the gala and The Halcyon Project, and started the article with an apology, writing, I was wrong about the God of the Underworld. I accused him of carelessly engaging mortals in bargains that led to their deaths. What I have learned is that these contracts are far more complicated and the motives far more pure.

  She stood by her original statement that Hades should offer help in a different manner, but acknowledged that The Halcyon Project was, in fact, a direct result of a conversation they’d had adding, “When other gods might retaliate for my candid review of their character, Lord Hades asked questions, listened, and changed. What more could we want from our gods than that?”

  Persephone laughed to herself. Never in her lifetime would she have thought she’d suggest that Hades was the standard by which all other gods should be measured, but the more she learned about him, the more she felt that might be the case. Not that Hades was perfect—in fact, it was his imperfection and willingness to acknowledge it—that made him a god unlike any other.

  You’re still in a contract with him, she reminded herself before she put the Lord of the Underworld on too high a pedestal.

  After her visit to Elysium and her conversation with Thanatos, she’d wanted to ask Hades so many questions yesterday—why me? What did you see when you looked at me? What weakness did you wish to challenge within me? What part of me were you hoping to save? What destiny had the Fates forged for her that Hades wished to challenge?

  But she hadn’t gotten the chance.

  When Hades had returned to the Underworld, he’d gathered her into his arms and taken her to bed, shattering all rational thoughts.

  Coming home had been exactly what she needed—it had given her the distance to remind herself that if she wanted…whatever was between her and Hades to work, the contract had to end.

  After a couple hours of sleep, Persephone got ready for the day. She had to put in a few hours at her internship and then head to class. While she was in the kitchen making coffee, Lexa came home.

  Persephone poured her a cup and slid it across the counter.

  “How was your weekend?”

  Lexa beamed. “Magical.”

  Persephone snorted, but she could relate—she wondered if she and her best friend had similar experiences.

  “I’m happy for you, Lex.” She’d said it before, and she’d say it many times after.

  “Thanks for the coffee,” Lexa said, and started toward her room, but paused. “Oh, I meant to ask…how was the Underworld?”

  Persephone froze. “What do you mean?”

  “Persephone. I know you left with Hades Saturday night. It’s all anyone could talk about—the girl in red, stolen to the Underworld.”

 
She paled. “Did anyone—no one knew it was me, right?”

  Lexa looked a little sympathetic. “I mean, Hades had just announced The Halcyon Project, which was inspired by you, so people came to their own conclusions.”’

  Persephone groaned. That’s all she needed, more press on her supposed relationship with Hades.

  A very dark and very loud part of her mind suddenly wondered if Hades behavior at the gala had been intentional. Was he looking for a way to divert attention from his antics by shining a spotlight on a relationship? And if that were the case, was she just a pawn?

  “I know you’d rather not acknowledge whatever’s going on between you and Hades…but I’m your best friend. You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

  “I know, I know. I really didn’t intend to leave with him. I was going to call a cab and then…” Her voice trailed away.

  “He swept you off your feet?” Lexa waggled her brows, and Persephone couldn’t help but laugh. “Just tell me one thing…did he kiss you?”

  Persephone blushed and admitted, “Yes.”

  Lexa squealed. “Oh my gods, Persephone! You have to tell me everything!”

  Persephone looked at the clock. “I have to go—lunch with Sybil?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she answered.

  Despite leaving her apartment late, Persephone took her time walking to work, reveling in the feel of life around her. She was still in disbelief. Her magic had surfaced, and it had awakened in the Underworld. She still had no idea what to do with it—she didn’t know how to harness what she felt, or use it to create illusions, but she planned to meet Hecate this evening for lessons.

  When she arrived at the Acropolis, Demetri asked to see her. He offered a few edits to her article and before she sat down to work on them, she went into the break room to get some coffee.

  “Hey, Persephone,” Adonis said as he joined her. He put on his most charming smile, as if it could erase the past and build a whole new future.

  She glanced at him.

  “I don’t really feel like talking to you.”

  She didn’t need to look at him to know he had stopped grinning. He was probably shocked his smile hadn’t worked its usual magic.

  “You’re really just gonna stop talking to me? You know that’s impossible. We work together.”

  “I will still be professional,” she said.

  “You aren’t being very professional right now.”

  “Actually, I don’t have to make small talk with you to be professional,” she argued. “I just have to get my job done.”

  “Or you could forgive me,” Adonis said. “I was drunk, and I barely touched you.”

  Barely touched?

  He had pulled her hair and attempted to force her mouth open. Besides that, his touch—no matter light or aggressive—was completely unwanted.

  Persephone ignored him, leaving the break room.

  He followed.

  “Is this about Hades?” he demanded. “Are you sleeping with him?”

  “That is not an appropriate question, Adonis, and it is also none of your business.”

  “He told you to stay away from me, didn’t he?”

  Persephone turned to face him. She’d never met anyone who was so oblivious to their own wrong-doing.

  “I am capable of making my own decisions, Adonis. I thought you would remember that after you stole my article,” she snapped. “But just so we’re clear, I don’t want to talk to you because you are a manipulator, you never take responsibility for your mistakes, and you kissed me when I specifically told you not to, which makes you a predator.”

  There was a heavy pause as Persephone’s words hit home. It took Adonis a moment, but he finally seemed to understand what she was saying and then he called her a bitch.

  “Adonis,” Demetri’s voice cut through their conversation like a whip. Persephone was stunned, and she turned to see her boss standing outside his office. She had never thought him capable of the anger she saw on his face. “A moment.”

  Adonis looked stricken, and he glared at Persephone as if she were to blame.

  When the mortal disappeared into Demetri’s office, her boss gave her an apologetic look before entering and closing the door. Ten minutes later, a security officer arrived on the floor and walked into Demetri’s office. After a moment, the officer, Demetri, and Adonis emerged. Adonis was flanked by the two and as he passed her desk, he was rigid, his hands fisted. He muttered under his breath, “This is ridiculous. She is a snitch.”

  “You told on yourself,” Demetri said.

  They disappeared in the direction of his desk, and reappeared later, leading Adonis to the elevator with a box in hand.

  When Demetri returned, he approached Persephone’s desk. “You have a moment?”

  “Yeah,” she said quietly, and followed him into his office.

  Once inside, she took a seat, and Demetri did the same.

  “Want to tell me what happened?”

  She explained—only the part where Adonis stole her article and submitted it without her knowledge because that was the only part that really counted at work.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Persephone shrugged. “I wanted to submit it anyway. It just happened faster than I anticipated.”

  Demetri grimaced. “In the future, I want you to come to me when you feel wronged, Persephone. Your satisfaction in this job is important to me.”

  “I...appreciate that.”

  “And I will understand if you want to cease writing articles about Hades.”

  She stared at him, surprised. “You would? But why?”

  “I won’t pretend that I’m not aware of the frustration and stress it has caused you,” he said, and she had to admit, she was a little surprised he had noticed. “You became famous overnight and you’re not even finished with college yet.”

  She let her eyes fall to her hands, twisting her fingers nervously.

  “But what about the readership?”

  Demetri shrugged. “That’s the thing about news. There’s always something new.”

  Persephone managed a small laugh and considered things. If she stopped writing now, she didn’t feel she would have done Hades’ story justice. She’d started out with such a harsh critique of him, and, maybe selfishly, she wanted to explore other facets of his character. She realized she didn’t have to write an article to do that, but a part of her wanted to show Hades in the light. She wanted others to see him as she had come to—as kind and caring.

  “No,” she told Demetri. “It’s okay. I want to continue with the series…for now.”

  Demetri smiled, but said, “Alright, but if you wish to end it, I want you to let me know.”

  She agreed and went back to her desk.

  When she finished with her work, she headed to campus. During class, she found it harder to concentrate. Her sleepless night was catching up to her, and though she took notes, at the end of class, when she tried to read what she had written, it was just scribbles.

  She really needed some rest.

  A tap on the shoulder made her jump. She turned and looked into the face of a girl with small, fairy-like features and a dust of pretty freckles. Her eyes were large and round.

  “You’re Persephone Rossi, right?”

  She was getting used to that question and learning to dread it.

  “I am,” she said hesitantly. “Can I…help you?”

  The girl picked up a magazine that rested on top of the books she cradled against her chest. It was the Delphi Divine. The cover was a picture of Hades. The headline read God of the Underworld Credits Journalist for The Halcyon Project.

  She took it, flipping to the full spread and started reading, rolling her eyes.

  Probably the worst part—aside from the article suggesting that the reason for the project was because Hades had fallen for the ‘beautiful, blond mortal’—was that they’d sourced a picture of her. It was the headshot they’d taken for
her internship at New Athens News.

  “Is it true?” the girl asked. “Are you really dating Lord Hades?”

  Persephone looked at her and stood, shouldering her backpack. She didn’t think there was a word to describe what was happening between her and the God of the Dead. Hades had called her his lover, but Persephone would still describe herself as a prisoner—and that would be the case until the contract was removed.

  Instead of answering the girl, Persephone asked, “You do know the Divine is a gossip magazine?”

  “Yes but...he created The Halcyon Project just for you.”

  “It isn’t for me,” she said starting past the girl. “It’s for mortals in need.”

  “Still, don’t you think that’s romantic?”

  Persephone paused and turned to face the girl.

  “He listened. There’s nothing romantic about that.”

  The girl looked confused, but Persephone wasn’t interested in romanticizing Hades for doing something all men should be doing and she told the girl as much.

  “So, you don’t think he likes you?” she asked.

  “I’d much rather he respect me,” she answered.

  Respect could build an empire. Trust could make it unbreakable. Love could make it last forever.

  And she would know Hades respected her when he removed this stupid mark on her skin.

  “Excuse me,” she said, and left. It was close to lunch and she had a date with Lexa and Sybil. After La Rose, she and Lexa had kept their distance from Adonis, but they’d grown attached to Sybil and the twins, Aro and Xeres.

  Persephone left Hestia Hall and crossed campus, cutting through the Garden of the Gods. The scent of Hades’ magic was the only warning she had before she was teleported. She appeared in a different part of the garden where narcissus bloomed, standing face-to-face with Hades. He reached forward, gripped the back of her neck, and brought his lips to hers. She kissed him eagerly, but she was distracted by the article and her thoughts around the contract.

  When he pulled away, he stared at her a moment, and then asked, “Are you well?”

  Her stomach flipped. She wasn’t used to that question, or the way he asked it—in a voice echoing with sincerity and concern.