This is it. She thought. He is going to fire me.
She found herself frustrated that he was drawing it out. Why invite her to sit? Act like it had to be a conversation?
She took a deep breath and sat on the edge of her chair.
“What did you do?” she asked, glancing at the pile of newspapers. “Pick one up on every block?”
“Couldn’t help it,” he said, smirking. “The story was fascinating.”
Persephone glared.
“Did you need something?” she asked finally, hoping to change the subject—hoping that the reason he called her into his office had nothing to do with this morning’s headlines.
“Persephone,” Demetri said, and she cringed at the gentle tone his voice had taken. Whatever was coming, it wasn’t good. “You have a lot of potential and you have proven you’re willing to fight for the truth, which I appreciate.”
He paused and her body stayed tense, preparing for the blow he was about to deliver.
“But,” she said, guessing the direction of this conversation.
Demetri looked even more sympathetic.
“You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to,” he said.
She blinked, brows furrowing. “Ask what?”
“For an exclusive. On your relationship with Hades.”
The dread crawled up her stomach, and spread, sizzling in her chest and lungs and she felt the heat abruptly leave her face.
“Why do you have to ask?” Her voice was tight, and she tried to stay calm, but her hands were already shaking and squeezing her coffee cup.
“Per—”
“You said you wouldn’t ask if you didn't have to,” she stopped him. She was tired of him saying her name. Tired of how long it was taking him to get to the point. “So why are you asking?”
“It came from the top,” he answered. “It was very clear that you either offer us your story or you don’t have a job here anymore.”
“The top?” she echoed, and paused for a moment, searching for a name. After a moment, it came to her. “Kal Stavros?”
Kal Stavros was a mortal. He was the CEO of Epik Communications—which owned New Athens News. Persephone didn’t know much about him except that he was a tabloid favorite. Mostly, because he was beautiful—his name literally meant crowned the most beautiful.
“Why would the CEO request an exclusive?”
“It’s not every day the girlfriend of the God of the Dead works for you,” Demetri said. “Everything you touch will turn to gold.”
“Then let me write something else,” she said. “I have a voicemail and an inbox full of leads.”
It was true. The messages had started pouring in the moment she published her first article on Hades. She’d slowly been sorting through them, organizing them into folders based on the god they criticized. She could write about any Olympian, even her mother.
“You can write something else,” Demetri said. “But I’m afraid we’ll still need that exclusive.”
“You can’t be serious,” was all she could think to say, but Demetri’s expression told her otherwise. She tried again. “This is my personal life.”
Her boss’s eyes dropped to the stack of papers on his desk.
“And it became public.”
“I thought you said you would understand if I wanted to cease writing about Hades?”
She noted that Demetri’s shoulders fell, and it made her feel better that he was at least a little defeated by this, too.
“My hands are tied, Persephone,” he answered.
There was a stretch of silence, and then she asked, “That’s it? I have no say in this?”
“You have your choices. I need the article by next Friday.”
That was it—she was dismissed.
She stood and made her way back to her desk and sat. Her head spun as she thought of ways to get out of this situation, other than writing the article or quitting. Working for New Athens News had been her dream since she’d decided to go into journalism her Freshman year of college. She believed completely in their mantra of telling the truth and exposing injustice.
Now she wondered if all of that was just a lie.
She wondered what Hades would say if she told him that the CEO of Epik Communications had demanded a story on them, but also recognized that she didn’t want Hades to fight her battles. She also despised the fact that she knew they would listen to Hades because of his status as an ancient Olympian and not her—someone they presumed was a mortal woman.
No, she would figure this out on her own and she was certain of one thing—Kal would regret his threat.
Persephone didn’t look up from her computer after leaving Demetri’s office. Despite how focused she appeared, she was aware of their curious stares, they felt like spiders skittering across her skin. She focused harder, combing through hundreds of messages in her inbox and listening to voicemails from people who ‘had a story for her.’ Most were about how Zeus and Poseidon had turned their mother/sister/aunt into a wolf/swan/cow for nefarious reasons, and Persephone found herself wondering how Hades was related to these the two.
Lexa checked in during lunch, sending a text.
You doing okay?
No, things got worse, Persephone texted back.
????
I’ll tell you later. Too much to text.
Wanna get drunk? Lexa asked.
She laughed. We have to work tomorrow, Lex.
I’m just trying to be a good friend.
Persephone smiled and admitted, Maybe a little drunk, then. Plus, we need to celebrate YOUR first day with the Cypress Foundation. How’s it going?
Amazing,” Lexa replied. “There is a lot to learn, but it’s going to be amazing.
Persephone managed to avoid Demetri for the rest of the day. Helen was the only one who engaged her in conversation, and that was to tell her she had mail, which included a pink envelope. When Persephone opened it, she found it full of crudely cut paper hearts.
“Did you see who put this in my mailbox?” she asked Helen. There was no return address and no stamp. Whoever sent it hadn’t mailed it.
The girl shook her head. “It was there this morning.”
Weird, she thought, tossing the mess into the garbage.
At the end of the day, Persephone took the elevator to the first floor and found the crowd still outside. She considered her options. She could just exit through the front and brave the mob. Security would give her escort, but only as far as the pavement, unless she called Antoni for a ride. She knew the cyclops was willing enough, but his loyalty to her would wane if he saw these people were still waiting for her to leave work, and she really, really didn’t want an Aegis. There was also the slight chance that her magic would respond if challenged, and she wasn’t willing to risk exposing herself, which also ruled out teleportation. That left her with only one other option—finding another way out of the building.
There were other exits, it was just a matter of finding one that wasn’t being stalked by rabid fans. She sounded paranoid, but she was informed. Admirers of gods would do anything for a glimpse, a touch, a taste of the Divine and that included their significant others.
She turned and set off down the hallway, away from the masses, in search of another exit.
She considered leaving through the parking garage but didn’t like the possibility of being cornered by a bunch of strangers in a place that was dark and smelled like oil and piss.
Maybe a fire exit, she thought, even if it set off an alarm. The doors weren’t accessible from the outside, so it was unlikely anyone would wait by one.
Excited by the idea of getting home and spending the evening with Lexa after this stressful day, she quickened her pace. Rounding a corner, she slammed into a body. She didn’t look up to see who it was, fearing they might recognize her.
“Sorry,” she muttered, pushing away and hurrying for the exit ahead.
“I wouldn’t go out that door if I were you.” A voice stopped her
just as her palms touched the metal handle. She turned, meeting a pair of grey eyes. They were housed in the thin, handsome face of a man with a mop of unruly hair, sharp cheekbones, and full lips. He was dressed in a grey janitor’s jumpsuit. She had never seen him before.
“Because the door has an alarm?” she asked.
“No,” he answered. “Because I just came in that door and if you’re the woman that’s been in the news the last three days, I think the people outside are there for you.”
She sighed, frustrated, and added in a desolate tone. “Thanks for the warning.”
She started down the adjoining hallway when the man called to her.
“If you need help, I can get you out of here.”
Persephone was skeptical. “How, exactly?”
The corners of his lips lifted, but it was like he had forgotten how to smile.
“You’re not going to like it.”
CHAPTER III - A TOUCH OF INJUSTICE
He was right. She hated it.
“I’m not getting in that thing.”
‘That thing’ was a tilt truck full of garbage.
She was wrong when she said she didn’t want the smell of oil and piss. She’d take it, so long as it didn’t mean bathing in rancid trash.
The janitor led her to the basement, a trek that had her feeling uneasy and clutching her apartment keys tight. This is how people are murdered, she thought, and then quickly reminded herself that she watched too much true crime.
The basement was full of various things—extra furniture and artwork, a laundry room, an industrial kitchen, and a maintenance room where she stood now, staring at her ‘get-away vehicle’, as the man had started to refer to it.
He seemed pretty amused now.
“It’s either this or you walk out the door,” he said. “Your choice.”
“How do I know you won’t wheel me into that waiting crowd?”
“Look, you don’t have to get in the cart. I just thought you might like to go home sometime tonight. As for me outing you, I’m not really interested in seeing anyone get hurt for their association with the gods.”
There was something in the way he spoke that made her think he’d been wronged by them, but she didn’t press. She stared at him for a moment, biting her lip.
“Okay fine,” she grumbled finally.
The man helped her into the cart, and she settled into the space he’d created for her.
Holding a bag of trash aloft, he looked at her questioningly.
“Ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Persephone said.
He arranged the bags over her, and suddenly she was in the dark and the cart was moving. The rustle of plastic grated against her ears and she held her breath so she didn’t have to smell rot and mold. The contents of the bags dug into her back, and each time the wheels hit a crack in the floor, the cart jostled, and the plastic grazed her like snake’s skin. She wanted to vomit but held it together.
“This is your stop,” she heard the janitor say, lifting the bags he used to hide her. Persephone was greeted by a blast of fresh air as she rose from the dark pit.
The man helped her out, awkwardly grasping her waist to set her on her feet. The contact made her cringe, and she stepped away, unsteady on her feet.
He had taken her to the end of an alleyway that let out onto Pegasus Street, from here she could get to her apartment in about twenty minutes.
“Thank you…” she said. “Um…what was your name?”
“Pirithous,” he supplied and held out his hand.
“Pirithous,” she took his hand. “I’m Persephone...I guess you already knew that.”
He ignored her comment and just said, “It’s nice to meet you, Persephone.”
“I owe you, for the getaway car.”
“No, you don’t,” he said quickly. “I’m not a god. I don’t extract a favor for a favor.”
He definitely has a history with the Divine, she thought, frowning. “I just meant that I would bring you cookies.”
The man offered a dazzling smile, and in that moment, beneath the exhaustion and the sadness, she thought she could see the person he used to be.
“See you tomorrow?” she asked.
He gave her the strangest look, chuckling a little and said, “Yeah, Persephone. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
***
By the time Persephone arrived home, the apartment smelled like popcorn and Lexa’s music blared throughout the house. It wasn’t the kind you could dance to—it was the kind that could summon clouds and rain and darkness. The music cast its own spell, drawing on darker thoughts—revenge against Kal Stavros.
Lexa was waiting in the kitchen. She had already changed into her pajamas—a set that showed off her tattoos—the phases of the moon on her bicep, a key wrapped in hemlock on her left forearm, an exquisite dagger on her right hip, and Hecate’s wheel on her left upper arm. Her thick, black hair was piled on top of her head. She had a bottle of wine in hand, and two empty glasses waiting.
“There you are,” Lexa said, pinning Persephone with those piercing blue eyes. She indicated to the bottle of wine.
“I got your favorite.”
Persephone smiled. “You’re the best.”
“I thought I was going to have to file a missing person’s report.”
Persephone rolled her eyes. “I’m only thirty minutes late.”
“And not answering your phone,” Lexa pointed out.
She’d been so distracted trying to get out of the Acropolis and make it home unnoticed, she hadn’t even bothered to retrieve her phone from her purse. She did so now and found four missed calls and several texts from Lexa. Her best friend had started by asking if she was on her way, if she was okay, and then resorted to sending random emojis just to get her attention.
“If you really thought I was in trouble, I doubt you’d have sent me a million emojis.”
Lexa smirked as she uncorked the wine. “Or, I cleverly thought to annoy your kidnapper.”
Persephone took a seat opposite Lexa at the kitchen bar and sipped her wine. It was a rich and flavorful cabernet, and it instantly took the edge off her nerves.
“Seriously though, you can’t be too careful. You’re famous now.”
“I’m not famous, Lex.”
“Uh, did you read any of the news articles I sent you? People are obsessed.”
“Hades is famous, not me.”
“And you by association,” she argued. “You’re all anyone at work wanted to talk about today—who you were, where you were from.”
Persephone groaned. “You didn’t say anything about me, did you?”
It was no secret that Lexa was Persephone’s best friend.
“You mean that I’ve known you’ve been sleeping with Hades for about six months and that you’re a goddess masquerading as a mortal?”
Lexa’s tone was light.
“I haven’t been sleeping with Hades for six months.” Persephone felt the need to defend herself.
It was Lexa’s turn to narrow her eyes. “Okay, five months, then.”
Persephone glared.
“Look, I’m not blaming you. There are few women who wouldn’t jump at the chance to sleep with Hades.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” Persephone shot back, rolling her eyes.
“It’s not like he will. It’s his fault your relationship is such big news, anyway. As far as the media is concerned, you are his first serious partner.”
Except the reality was much different, and while Persephone knew there had been other women in Hades’ life, she didn’t know the details. She wasn’t sure she wanted to. She thought of Minthe and shuddered.
Persephone took a sip of her wine. “I want to talk about you. How was your first day?”
“Oh, Persephone,” she gushed. “It really is a dream. Did you know the Halcyon Project is projected to treat five thousand people in its first year?”
She didn’t, but that was amazing.
“And Hades gave me a tour and introduce me to everyone.”
Persephone couldn’t really explain how that made her feel, but it didn’t feel good. The best way to explain it was...she felt embarrassed. She felt like she should have known Hades was going to be there on Lexa’s first day, but the God of the Dead hadn’t said anything about that this morning when he helped her get ready.
“That was nice of him,” she commented distractedly.
“Apparently he does it for every new employee. I mean, I knew Hades wasn’t like other gods, but to greet his staff the way he did?” Lexa shook her head. “It’s just...so evident he loves you.”
Persephone’s gaze rose to meet hers. “Why do you say that?”
“Everywhere I looked today I could see how he was inspired by you.”
Persephone knitted her brows. “What do you mean?”
Lexa shrugged. “It’s...a little hard to explain. He just...uses some of the words you use when he talks about helping people. He talks about hope and forgiveness and second chances.”
The more Lexa talked; the more pressure Persephone felt in her chest.
Her best friend giggled. “Then there are the...physical things.”
Persephone raised a brow, and Lexa burst into laughter.
“No, not that! Physical things like...pictures.”
“Pictures?”
It was Lexa’s turn to look confused. “Yeah. He had pictures of you in his office. Didn’t you know that?”
No, she didn’t know Hades had an office at The Cypress Foundation, much less pictures of her.
Where did he get pictures of her? She didn’t have pictures of him. Suddenly, Persephone wasn’t interested in talking about this anymore.
“Can I ask you something?” Lexa said.
Persephone waited, and sort of dreaded the question.
“You’ve always wanted notoriety for your work, so what’s the problem with all this attention?”
Persephone sighed.
“I want to be respected in my field,” she said. “Now I just feel like a possession of Hades. Every article is Hades this and Hades that. No one even uses my name. They call me mortal.”
A Touch of Ruin (Hades & Persephone Book 2) Page 4