A Touch of Ruin (Hades & Persephone Book 2)

by Scarlett St. Clair

  “This isn’t something you can prevent, Persephone. My work is tied to the Fates. Once they cut her thread…I have to collect.”

  She hated those words, and they set her off in a way she never imagined.

  “Get out!” she yelled. “Get out! Get out! Get out!”

  Thanatos vanished, and Persephone was suddenly surrounded by nurses and a security guard. They were questioning and directing, and the words filled her head to bursting.

  “Ma’am, is everything alright?”

  “Maybe you should have a seat.”

  “I’ll get some water.”

  Pain formed at the front of her head. Despite the nurse trying to direct her to a chair, she broke free.

  “I need to check on Lexa,” she said, but when she tried to return to the ICU area, the security guard blocked her.

  “You need to listen to the nurses,” he said.

  “But my friend—”

  “I’ll get an update on your friend,” he said.

  Persephone wanted to protest. There was no time. What if Thanatos had teleported to her room and taken her to the Underworld? Suddenly, the doors opened from the inside, and Persephone leapt at the chance, pushing past the guard, she took off at run for Lexa’s room and promptly vanished.

  Being teleported to another realm without warning felt like being in a vacuum. Suddenly, it was harder to breath, her body felt void of moisture, and her ears popped painfully. The symptoms lasted a few seconds before she was overpowered by the scent of Hades’ magic, burning her nose like frost.

  As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized she’d been deposited in Hades’ throne room. It was always dark despite the hazy light that filtered in through slanted windows overhead. Hades sat upon his throne—a glassy piece of obsidian that was both artistic and monstrous. She could see nothing of the god but a slash of his beautiful face, illuminated by red light.

  She could guess why Hades had brought her here—to prevent her from interfering with Thanatos’ work, to lecture her once again about how they could not interfere in Lexa’s life, but she didn’t want to hear it.

  She tried to gather her magic and teleport, knowing it was in vain—Hades was far more liberal in revoking any rights she had to leave the Underworld while he was angry.

  And he was angry.

  She could feel his frustration, it built between them, making the air tangible.

  “You cannot just remove me from the Upperworld when you please!” she shouted at him.

  “You are lucky I removed you and not the Furies.”

  The tone of his voice deepened and put her on edge. Still, she wanted to fight.

  “Send me back, Hades!”

  “No.”

  A searing pain erupted from Persephone’s shoulder, her side, and her calves as thorns sprouted from her skin. It brought her to her knees before Hades. The god rose from his throne, ignited completely by the red light. He looked horrified and deadly and moved toward her with predatory grace.

  “Stop!” she commanded as he approached. “Don’t come any closer!”

  She didn’t want him to see how bad her wounds really were.

  Hades didn’t obey.

  He knelt beside her.

  “Fuck, Persephone. How long has your magic been manifesting like this?”

  Persephone didn’t answer. Instead, she asked, “Don’t you ever listen?”

  He gave a humorless laugh. “I could ask the same of you.”

  She ignored his comment, focusing on breathing through the pain of her injuries. Her magic had manifested like this on several occasions, but this was probably the worst case. Hades placed his hands on her shoulder, then her side, then her calves, healing the wounds. When he was finished, he sat back on his heels, blood covering his hands.

  “How long have you kept this from me?”

  “I’ve been a little distracted in case you haven’t noticed,” she said. “What do you want, Hades?”

  Hades eyes flashed, and his concern for her quickly dissolved into anger.

  “Your behavior toward Thanatos was atrocious. You will apologize.”

  “Why should I?” she snapped. “He was going to take Lexa! Worse, he tried to hide it from me.”

  “He was doing his job, Persephone.”

  “Killing my friend isn’t a job! It’s murder!”

  “You know it isn’t murder!” His voice was harsh. “Keeping her alive for your own benefit isn’t a kindness. She is in pain and you are prolonging it.”

  She flinched but recovered. “No, you are prolonging it. You could heal her, but you have chosen not to help me.”

  “You want me to bargain with the Fates so that she might survive? So you can have the death of another on your conscious? Murderer doesn’t suit you, goddess.”

  She slapped him—or tried to, but Hades caught her wrist and pulled her against him, kissing her until she was subdued in his arms, until all she could do was cry.

  “I don’t know how to lose someone, Hades,” she sobbed into his chest.

  He took her face between his hands, attempting to brush her tears away.

  “I know,” he answered. “But running from it won’t help, Persephone. You are just delaying the inevitable.”

  “Hades, please. What if it were me?”

  He released her so quickly, she almost lost her composure.

  “I refuse to entertain such a thought.”

  “You cannot tell me you wouldn’t break every Divine Law in existence for me.”

  Persephone had noted the depth of Hades’ eyes before—as if there were thousands of lifetimes reflected within them, but it was nothing like what she saw now. There was a flash of malice—a moment where she swore she could see every violent thing he’d ever done. She didn’t doubt what he would go through to save her.

  “Make no mistake, my lady, I would burn this world for you, but that is a burden I am willing to carry. Can you say the same?”

  Something changed within Hades after her question and just as suddenly as he seemed to open all his wounds, they closed. His eyes dulled and his expression became passive.

  “I will give you one more day to say goodbye to Lexa,” he said. “That is the only compromise I can offer. You should be thankful I’m offering that.”

  The god vanished.

  Alone in the throne room, Persephone expected to feel overwhelmed by the reality that within the next twenty-four hours, Lexa would be dead.

  Instead, she felt a strange sense of determination.

  Consequences for gods? She thought. There are none.

  She rose to her feet and teleported to her apartment. Sybil reclined on the couch, her eyes going wide when Persephone appeared, bloodied and bruised from her magic.

  The oracle sat up.

  “Persephone, are you—”

  “I’m fine,” she said quickly. “I need your help. Where does Apollo hang out on Thursday nights?”

  CHAPTER XVII - THE PLEASURE DISTRICT

  Persephone navigated the narrow cobble streets of the Pleasure District, passing white-washed shops and brothels with names like Hetaera, Pornai, and Kapsoura. The passages were filled to bursting with people. There were those who had come to enjoy the pleasures of the district, obvious because of the masks they wore to hide their identity. Then there were those who were here to give the pleasure—women in lace and topless men. They danced through the crowds, teasing potential customers with feather boas and chocolate. Their skin glistened from oils that smelled like jasmine and vanilla. Lights crisscrossed overhead, giving the entire place a strange, red glow.

  Turns out, this was where Apollo spent Thursday evenings.

  “He’ll be at Erotas,” Sybil had said. “He owns a suite there on the third floor.”

  The Goddess of Spring reached up to check the mask Sybil had let her borrow, paranoid that somehow it would come loose and expose her identity. It was heavy and solid black. She only needed to wear it until she made it to Erotas, once inside, eve
ry visitor was promised anonymity.

  She recognized she had a choice, but it was one she wasn’t willing to make. Her mother had been right. Why not ask Apollo to heal her friend? It was a bargain she was willing to make, and so she headed in the direction of Erotas.

  She could see it from a distance—a giant, mirrored phallus at the very edge of the Pleasure District. Being one of the most expensive and higher-end brothels, it had the best view of the ocean. When she was within view of the door, she shed her coat and mask. Beneath, she wore a simple black dress and strappy black heels—it was the attire worn by the women who served within Erotas, and if Persephone were lucky, she’d blend in enough to find Apollo.

  She was surprised to find that the interior of the brothel was more traditionally decorated. The entryway was round and lit by a large crystal chandelier. The walls were red, decorated with ornate mirrors and sconces, and there was no one in site as she crossed the marble floor toward an elaborate princess staircase that led to the second floor.

  Easy enough, Persephone thought, as her hand touched the wrought-iron rail.

  “Where are you going?”

  She froze and turned to find an older woman dressed in crimson. She was beautiful, slender, and had white hair. She assumed this woman was the Madam—or manager—of the brothel.

  “I have a client,” Persephone said. “Waiting. Upstairs.”

  “You’re lying,” the woman said.

  Persephone paled.

  “None of the girls have gone up yet,” the woman continued. “Come!”

  Persephone hesitated, but descended the stairs. The woman studied Persephone as she approached, trying to place her.

  “What’s your name?” she asked, eyes narrow.

  “K-kora,” Persephone managed.

  “You are new,” the woman said, and then she touched Persephone’s face, as if inspecting her for imperfections. “Yes, you will fetch a high price.”

  “A high price?” Persephone’s brows pinched together.

  “I’m assuming that’s why you were leaving. Nervous for the auction?”

  Auction?

  Persephone nodded.

  “Do not worry, my sweet. Come.”

  The Madam placed her arm through Persephone’s and led her into a parlor beneath the staircase.

  Inside, there were women and men of all ages and sizes dressed in black. Persephone wondered why it was the chosen color, as they all looked like they were at a funeral.

  As the Madam and Persephone entered, a man wearing a red cloth around his waist and a mask of the same color approached with a silver tray. The Madam took a glass of champagne and passed it to Persephone.

  “Drink,” she said. “It will calm your nerves.”

  Persephone sipped the drink—it was sweet and light.

  “Mingle, chat. The bidding will begin soon.”

  The Madam left and once Persephone was alone, she was approached by a woman with dark curls and long lashes. Her lips were a bright red, and her skin a rich shade of brown.

  “I’ve never seen you before,” she said. “I’m Ismena.”

  “Kora,” Persephone said. “Um...can you tell me what’s going on?”

  Ismena laughed a little, almost like she thought Persephone was joking. “Did they just pull you off the street because you were pretty?”

  Persephone’s eyes widened.

  “Does that happen?”

  “Never mind,” Ismena said. “It’s an auction. You’re given a number and let into a room sort of like an auditorium where you wait until your number is called. After that, you’re led onto a stage and you just...stand there until they tell you to leave.”

  “And after that?”

  “You’re led to the room of your bidder.”

  Persephone’s stomach soured.

  “How’d you get into this line of work anyway?” Ismena asked. “You don’t look prepared at all.”

  Persephone sort of laughed, and offered the only thing she could, “Sometimes there aren’t any choices. What about you?”

  The woman shrugged. “It’s good money, and most of the time these men aren’t even after sex. They just want conversation.”

  Well that was good, because that’s all Persephone had come for—conversation and a bargain.

  The woman in crimson returned and clapped her hands, drawing everyone’s attention.

  “It’s time, ladies and gentlemen.”

  Persephone followed Ismena’s lead. They filed into an adjacent room were a series of chairs were arranged. As they entered, they were given numbers and took their seats. One by one, the Madame summoned men and women, and as they disappeared into the darkness around her, Persephone’s heart raced. She wondered what Hades would do if he found out she was about to auction herself off to the highest bidder in a brothel.

  Then another thought occurred to her—what if she couldn’t find Apollo?

  She waited forever—until everyone in the room was gone except for her.

  The Madam entered.

  “Your turn, Kora.”

  Persephone rose and followed the woman into the shadow. She was directed onto a round stage. She could see nothing beyond it, but she knew people were scattered in the dark beyond because she could sense them. A torrent of emotions hit her—intense loneliness and longing, beneath that, there was a tinge of amusement. She looked up into the darkness and offered a soft half smile.

  “I’m here for you, Apollo.”

  The madam appeared from the shadow, as quick as lightning, and snatched her by the wrist.

  “How dare you! This auction is supposed to be anonymous.”

  A voice crackled through an intercom.

  “Don’t leave a bruise, Madam Selene, or you will face the wrath of Hades.”

  So much for anonymity.

  The woman inhaled sharply and released her; eyes wide.

  “You are Persephone?”

  Apollo’s voice crackled over the intercom again.

  “Escort her to my suite.”

  Persephone turned to the Madam expectantly. It took her a moment to move, she seemed frozen, staring at her as if she were one of the dead herself. After a moment, she cleared her throat and bowed her head.

  “This way, my lady.”

  The Madam led Persephone out of the room and into a mirrored elevator. When the doors closed, Madame Selene stared at Persephone through the reflection.

  “Why did you let me treat you like one of my girls?”

  Persephone shrugged. “I was curious. Don’t worry, if everyone in attendance tonight keeps my secret, I’ll ensure Hades never finds out that you laid a hand on me. Understood?”

  “Of course.”

  Madame Selene pulled out a key and inserted it into the panel, pressing the button for the third floor. They were silent until the Madame asked, “Are you here to bargain with him?”

  Persephone’s heart raced. “Why would I bargain with Apollo?”

  “Because you’re desperate.”

  Persephone stared at the woman.

  “I see desperation every day, my love. If you’re seeking an end to it, trust me, Apollo’s not the answer.”

  Persephone clenched her jaw. “Remember my promise earlier, Madame? You’d do well to stay quiet.”

  The woman offered a half smile and Persephone thought it hinted at her wickedness. “Apologies, my lady.”

  The elevator came to a halt, and Persephone stepped into a well-furnished and luxurious living room. The place was covered in rich fabrics, textured rugs, and fine artwork.

  Persephone felt on edge as she moved into the space, thinking that the God of Music might appear out of thin air just to scare her, but as she rounded the sitting area, she found Apollo in an adjacent room. He was naked, relaxing in a giant bath. When he saw her, the god stretched out, resting his feet and draping his arms over the edge of the bath.

  “Ah, Lady Persephone,” he said. “A true pleasure.”

  “Apollo,” she acknowledged.


  “Come, join me!”

  “Did you not just warn Madame Selene of Hades’ wrath? He will cut your balls off and feed them to you if you touch me.”

  Apollo chuckled, as if he thoroughly enjoyed the visual Persephone had just given him.

  “Would you deny me what I am due? I bought and paid for you, after all.”

  “Then that is your loss,” she replied.

  Apollo chuckled, narrowing those inky violet eyes.

  Suddenly, the elevator doors opened again, and three nymphs entered the room. They were dressed in shimmery slips. One carried a bowl, the other a tray of various bottles, and the last a stack of towels.

  “Put the oils in the bath. I have waited long enough,” Apollo snapped as they approached.

  The nymph with the tray didn’t seem at all anxious by the god’s rudeness. Her movements were unhurried and precise. She sat the tray down, chose a bottle, and measured the oil with the cap. When that nymph was finished, the other scattered rose petals into Apollo’s bath, and the last rolled up a towel and placed it beneath his head. Once the nymphs were finished, they left the room soundlessly.

  “Did Sybil tell you where to find me?”

  Persephone glared. “So, you do remember her name.”

  He had refused to say it before.

  The god rolled her eyes. “I remember the names of all my oracles, all my lovers, all my enemies.”

  “Are they not all the same?” Persephone challenged.

  The god frowned, his face growing stony. “You should be more careful with your words, especially when you are here to ask for help.”

  “How do you know I am here to ask for help?”

  “Am I wrong?”

  She was silent, and the god laughed.

  “So tell me, Lady Persephone, what do you want that your lover will not offer freely?”

  Life.

  All of a sudden, Persephone felt a rush of heat through her body. She hated that she was here, hated that she had come to Apollo for help. Hated that he knew she was here because Hades could not give her what she wanted.

  “I need you to heal my friend,” Persephone said. The words felt like thorns on her tongue. She knew she should not say them or ask Apollo to defy Fate...but here she was.

  Apollo stared at her for a long moment, and then he threw his head back, laughing. Persephone despised the sound of it. The tone was off, full of false amusement. Except that when the god looked at her again, his eyes sparkled.