A Touch of Malice

by Scarlett St. Clair

  “Welcome to the Underworld,” he said.

  Together, they led the souls through the gates and beneath the far-reaching limbs of the elm. As they walked, thousands of tiny orbs of light appeared and glowed, rising above their heads to settle on the leaves of the tree. The souls watched in wonder, not horror, not realizing that those small balls of light were the hopes and dreams they’d formed over a lifetime. Persephone felt immense sadness, watching it happen, but Hades squeezed her hand.

  “Think of it as a release,” he said. “They will no longer be burdened with regret.”

  She took some comfort in that, and as they left the shelter of the tree, they came to a lush strip of greenery and a pier that stretched over the black water of the Styx. The bank of the River of Woe was covered in white narcissus blooms. Returning from the other side was Charon, dressed in white robes that glowed like a torch against the muted gloom of the Underworld. His powerful arms rowed the boat to port, and he grinned.

  “Welcome, welcome!” he said. “Come. Let’s get you all home.”

  Persephone had never seen this process before, but she watched as Charon chose who was allowed into his boat. It was not even full when he decided that was enough.

  “No more,” he said. “I will return.”

  As he rowed away, Persephone looked to Hades. “Why did he not take more?”

  “Remember when I said the souls made this journey to accept death?”

  She nodded.

  “Charon will not take them until they have.”

  Persephone’s eyes widened. “What if they don’t?”

  “Most do,” he said.

  “And?” Persephone prodded. “What about the rest?”

  “It is a case-by-case basis,” he answered. “Some are allowed to see how the souls live in Asphodel. If that does not encourage them to adjust, they are sent to Elysium. Some must drink from the Lethe.”

  “And how often does that happen?”

  “It is rare,” he said. “But inevitably, in times like these, there is always someone who struggles.”

  She could imagine. None of these people woke up and expected to die today.

  Charon returned a few more times, and by the end of it, the only two left were the man with the five-year-old daughter. Charon tried to take her, but the father protested vehemently, and Persephone did not blame him.

  “We go together or not at all!”

  Persephone looked from Charon to Hades and then to the man, who held his daughter in his arms. She clung to him too. As much as she had accepted her end, she did not want to leave her father either.

  Persephone left Hades’s side and approached the man.

  “What are you afraid of?” she asked.

  “I left my wife and son behind,” he said.

  She considered this news—but she knew that several of the souls who had already passed over the Styx had left loved ones behind. She also knew that there would be more like him. She could not make a promise to him she could not keep for everyone.

  So instead, she asked, “And do you not trust, after all that you have seen here, that you will see them again?”

  “But—”

  “Your wife will have comfort,” she said. “Because you are here with Lola, and she will wait to be reunited with you both here in the Underworld. In Asphodel. Do you not wish to make a space for them? To welcome them when they come?”

  The man looked at Lola and hugged her to him, crying for a long time. They let him, and all the while, Persephone felt the heaviness of this task. She could not imagine how Thanatos, Charon, and the judges managed this every day.

  After a while, the man composed himself and took a breath.

  “Okay. I am ready.”

  Persephone turned to Charon, who smiled. “Then welcome to the Underworld,” he said and helped the two onto the boat.

  Hades and Persephone joined them.

  The ride was quiet; the souls looked out over the water, their expressions somber. Hades’s hold on Persephone’s hand tightened, and she knew it was because he recognized the burden she carried—it was sadness and grief and despair—but her spirits were soon lifted when she spotted a group of souls from Asphodel on the opposite shore waiting to greet them.

  “Look!” Lola exclaimed, pointing a tiny finger.

  As Charon came to dock, Yuri and Ian helped them onto the crowded deck.

  “Welcome,” they said.

  There was a flutter of activity as they were accepted into the throng. The souls had been perfecting their welcome party and had managed to turn it into more of a celebration, bringing music and baskets of food. Initially, she worried that Hades would disapprove, seeing as these souls had yet to be judged, but the god had felt this was an even better entry into his realm, for it would always be on the minds of those who ended up in Tartarus.

  “They will reflect on this moment and mourn that they were not better in life.”

  Hades and Persephone stayed with Charon, watching as the souls took off down the stone pathway, through the Fields of Mourning. As they went, they danced and sang and cheered. It felt like a happier end to a dreadful day.

  Beside them, Charon chuckled. “They certainly shall never forget their entrance into the Underworld.”

  Persephone looked at him. “Do you think it will overshadow the suddenness of their death?”

  The daimon offered her a gentle smile. “I think your Underworld will more than make up for it, my lady.”

  With that, he pushed off the pier and started across the river again.

  She turned to Hades.

  “Is it still a fate woven by the Fates if it is caused by another god?”

  She truly did not know.

  “All fates are chosen by the Fates,” Hades replied. “Lachesis had probably allotted an amount of time to each of them that ended today, and Atropos chose the wreck as their manner of death. Your mother’s storm provided the catalyst.”

  Persephone frowned, and Hades squeezed her hand again. “Let us leave this place. I have something to show you.”

  She let Hades teleport them but was surprised by where he brought her—to the Temple of Sangri. It was a large building made of marble and white stone. A set of steps made a steep climb toward the closed and gilded doors, which lay just behind a row of ancient Ionic columns with scrolls capped in gold. As decorative as they were, they were also practical, supporting a pediment detailed with Demeter’s symbols—the cornucopia and wheat grains—which were also gold.

  “Hades…why are we at my mother’s temple?” Persephone asked.

  “Visiting.”

  The God of the Dead kept her gaze, kissing her hand, then guided it to his arm as he started up the steps.

  “I do not wish to visit,” she said.

  “Your mother wants to fuck with us,” he said. “Then we shall fuck with her.”

  “Do you intend to burn her temple to the ground?” she asked.

  “Oh, darling,” Hades replied. “I am far too depraved for that.”

  They crested the steps, and she felt a surge of Hades’s magic as the doors flew open. Several priests and priestesses dressed in white halted their meandering when they saw the God of the Dead entering, their eyes widening with fear.

  “L-lord Hades—” One of the priests shook as he spoke his name.

  “Leave,” he commanded.

  “You cannot enter the Temple of Demeter,” a priestess dared to say. “This is a sacred space.”

  Hades ignored the woman.

  “Leave,” he said again. “Or be witness—and complicit—in the desecration of this temple.”

  Demeter’s priests and priestesses fled, leaving them alone in the firelit room. The doors slammed, causing the shadows on the wall to shudder.

  In the silence, Hades turned to her.

&n
bsp; “Let me make love to you.”

  “In my mother’s temple? Hades—”

  He cut her off with a kiss that made her moan. It was delicious and deep, and desire curled into her stomach like claws.

  “My mother will be furious,” she said when he pulled away.

  “I’m furious,” he hissed as his hand dug into the base of her skull and his lips returned to hers. His other hand traveled down, over her ass and under her thigh, hooking her leg around his hip. His erection nestled against her aching core and she moaned. His lips moved to her jaw and then her ear as he breathed, “And you haven’t said no.”

  She didn’t want to say no. Today’s events had left her wound up, restless, stressed. She needed release—she needed him.

  He pulled away and they stared at one another for a moment before Persephone smoothed her hands over Hades’s chest to his shoulders and helped him out of his jacket. As it fell away to the floor, her clothes followed. They undressed one another—a slow and languid process that involved a lot of kissing and licking and sucking—until they stood bare, and then Hades gathered her into his arms and carried her down the column-flanked aisle toward her mother’s altar, which overflowed with cornucopias of fruit and sheafs of wheat. Two large, gold basins full of fire roared on either side, and the air here was hot, causing sweat to drip from their skin.

  Hades knelt and laid her upon the tiled floor before shifting to settle between her legs. He stared down at her, his eyes like fire, roving every part of her body, and then he bent and licked her, his tongue warm against her center. When he pulled away, his lips glistened with her desire and he smiled wickedly.

  “You are wet for me.”

  “Always,” she whispered.

  “Always,” he repeated. “Even at the sight of me?”

  She nodded and Hades licked his lips.

  “Do you want to know how I feel when I see you?” he asked, bending to press a kiss to the inside of her knee.

  She nodded.

  “When I see you, I cannot help but think of you like this,” he said, his voice a sultry whisper against her skin as his lips continued up her thigh. “Bare. Beautiful. Drenched.”

  Each of his words was punctuated with the swirl of his tongue against her skin, and her breath quickened the closer he got to her burning core.

  “My cock is heavy for you,” he said. “And I am desperate to fill you.”

  He stared up at her, his head hovering above the apex of her thighs, and she could feel his breath against her molten flesh. Her fingers curled into her palms, nails biting into her skin.

  “Then why am I so empty?”

  The corner of his mouth lifted, and then he descended, mouth covering her clit. She arched against him and her hands went to her breasts, drawing her nipples between her fingers. She moaned and met his fiery gaze. As soon as she did, he jerked on her hips, hands digging into her ass, and then he was inside her, fingers curling deep, stimulating a part of her that made her breath catch hard in her throat. The more she cried, the faster his tongue moved, the more his fingers coaxed, and when he broke free from her, his lips and fingers gleamed.

  He let her relax upon the tile and crawled up her body, mouth descending upon hers. He tasted like her—tangy and salty—and as his tongue slid against hers, she reached between them, wrapping her hand around his hard cock, smoothing her thumb over the head, thick with need. Hades groaned.

  “Do you wish to take me in your mouth?” he asked.

  “Always,” she said, sitting up.

  He shuddered and closed his eyes. “That word.”

  “What’s wrong with that word?”

  “Nothing,” he said and took her place upon the floor, one hand behind his head. “It’s…perfect.”

  Persephone wrapped her hand around Hades’s cock, licked him once, and then took him into her mouth. His hand tightened into her hair, and he hissed, thighs tightening around her bent knees. She kept her mouth concentrated on the soft tip for a long while, savoring each bead of moisture that rose to the surface, and then took him to the hilt. He let out a long breath and jackknifed into a sitting position, pulling her from his length and pressing his hot mouth to hers. He guided her to her back, moving to grasp his cock as he pressed it into her slick folds, teasing her entrance and her clit.

  Persephone groaned and ground her heels into his ass.

  “Now, Hades,” she commanded. “You promised.”

  He offered a breathy laugh. “What did I promise, my darling?”

  He bent to kiss her neck, and his teeth grazed her ear. She turned toward him, angrily, hoping to capture his lips, but he moved.

  “To fill me,” she breathed. “To fuck me.”

  “That was no promise,” he said. “It was a vow.”

  And then he sheathed himself fully, settling deep, and for a moment, he rested against her, their slick bodies melding together. His lips touched her jaw, then her mouth, as he waited for her to relax beneath him.

  “Let me make love to you,” he said again and held her gaze as he shifted, rising onto his hands above her. He began to move, setting a pace that ensured she felt every part of his cock. She bent beneath him, her back coming off the floor. Hades sat back then, hands digging into her thighs as he angled her hips and plunged into her again and again, steady and agonizing.

  She wanted it to last forever. She wanted to come. She wanted everything all at once.

  Then he withdrew and bent his head between her thighs, mouth descending upon her once more before he shoved into her again, body hovering over hers, strong arms caging her in. She watched his face as he moved, eyes heavy-lidded, his jaw tense, lips parted. He bent now and then to kiss her—once, twice, a third time—before neither of them could keep their eyes open, until their heads rocked back, and they came.

  After, they lay on the tiled floor, limbs tangled together.

  “What is this I hear about a horse rescue?” she asked, her voice low. She was tired, and her body still shook from her release.

  Hades did not react, his fingers continuing to thread through her hair. “I was going to tell you by showing you,” he said. “Who told you?”

  “No one told me,” she replied. “I overheard.”

  “Hmm.” He made the sound sleepily.

  After a moment, she shifted so that her arms could rest on his chest, with her chin propped upon them.

  “Harmonia visited today,” she said.

  “Oh?” He raised a dark brow, his eyes half-open.

  “She thinks the weapon used to capture her was a net,” she said. “And that it was made with my mother’s magic.”

  Hades did not speak, did not move a single muscle in his face.

  “Why would my mother help attack her own people?”

  “It has happened every time new gods rise to power,” Hades replied. He did not seem surprised at all.

  “New gods or new power?” she asked.

  “Perhaps both,” he replied. “I suppose we will find out sooner or later.”

  Persephone was silent, considering Hades’s words.

  “What was Theseus doing in your office today?” she asked, suddenly curious. When she’d arrived, whatever conversation they’d been having hadn’t seemed to be going well, based on the tension in the room.

  “Trying to convince me he had nothing to do with your assault and the attack on Adonis or Harmonia.”

  “And did he?”

  “I could not detect a lie,” Hades admitted.

  “But you still think he was responsible?”

  A ghost of a smile touched his lips, like he was proud she could read him so well.

  “I think his inaction makes him responsible,” Hades said. “By now, he must know the names of her attackers, and yet he refused to divulge them.”

  “Don’t you have methods for extra
cting information?” she asked, arching a brow.

  Hades chuckled. “Eager for blood, darling?”

  She frowned. “I just don’t understand what power he has to keep that information.”

  “The same kind of power any man with a following has,” Hades replied. “Hubris.”

  “Is that not a punishable offense in the eyes of a god?”

  “Trust, darling, by the time Theseus comes to the Underworld, it will be I who escorts him straight to Tartarus.”

  Chapter XV

  Becoming Power

  The remainder of the week passed quickly with Persephone conducting her own research on Triad. She learned the organization had a faulty beginning, claiming that their leadership was decentralized. This led to several individuals conducting their own protests—some peaceful and others more violent. When Zeus had declared them a terrorist organization, as a result encouraging several Faithful mortals to seek and attack those associated with the group, they had temporarily disbanded only to reform a year later under new leadership.

  That was five years ago.

  Since then, there had been a few protests and more violent attacks, but Triad had never taken responsibility for those, claiming they were rogue Impious. Persephone thought back to what Hades had said about Theseus—that the leader of Triad claimed to have no involvement with Adonis’s murder and Harmonia’s attack. Could this be a case of the Impious striking out on their own with the help of Demeter?

  She could not say. She only hoped it didn’t take another attack to find out.

  It was Saturday before Persephone made it to Hecate’s cottage to train, and she’d done so without Hades’s knowledge. He’d insisted she rest since sleep had evaded her most nights, but she knew after witnessing the horrible wreck that took so many lives in the Upperworld, training was a priority. Plus, she had some questions for the ancient goddess.

  When she arrived, Hecate was at work inside her cottage, wrapping dried herbs with twine—thyme, rosemary, sage, and tarragon. There were several bundles, and the whole place smelled both sweet and bitter.

  Persephone sat down to help, selecting stems from each pile before carefully tying the twine into a neat bow.