“I hate you! I hate you!”
“Perhaps now,” Demeter said. “But in a millennium, you will have only me. Enjoy watching your world die.”
Everything went dark, and suddenly, Persephone was surrounded by images. All around her were screens upon which the lives of her friends and enemies played out, passing by as she remained the same within her prison. Even Lexa had a space—a stagnant image of her weather-worn headstone. She watched as the lives of Sybil, Hermes, Leuce, Apollo, and more continued without her. Sybil thrived and died, Hermes and Apollo spiraled, and Leuce returned to Hades—her lover, her true soul mate—who welcomed her to his bed. She watched as he found solace in the body of another—in Leuce, who was left, and other women she did not recognize. They came, a revolving door, and Hades emptied himself in each, breathing hard in the crooks of their necks until he was left spent and still alone.
Persephone’s fingers dug into the palms of her hands; her throat bled as she screamed at him and cursed him.
You said you would burn this world for me, and yet it lives, and it thrives, and you exist within it—without me.
She took her anger out upon the walls, but even her rage wasn’t strong enough to summon her power. As she stood there, watching Hades’s world continue without her, she swore she would end it. She would end him.
“Persephone.”
Her name—the way it was spoken, a soft, breathless whisper—drew her attention down, and she met Hades’s gaze. Suddenly, the world was different, as if she had escaped her cage and now stood at the center of a burning battlefield. On the ground at her feet lay Hades, eyes glassy, the crease of his lips full of blood and spilling down his face.
Persephone fell to her knees.
“Hades.” Her voice was different, strained. She brushed his hair from his face, and despite the blood, he smiled at her.
“I thought…I thought I’d never see you again.”
“I’m here,” she whispered.
He lifted a hand and brushed a finger along her cheek. She inhaled, closing her eyes, until his touch fell away, and when she opened them, she found that he had closed his.
“Hades!” She placed her hands upon his face, and his eyes opened into slits.
“Hmm?”
“Stay with me,” she begged.
“I cannot,” he said.
“What do you mean you can’t?” she said. “You can heal yourself. Heal!”
His eyes were open wider now and his expression sad.
“Persephone,” he said. “It’s over.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. She threaded her fingers through his matted hair and smoothed her hands over his chest.
Hades’s hands clamped down upon hers. “Persephone, look at me,” he commanded. It was the strongest his voice had sounded since she’d found him lying here. “You were my only love—my heart and my soul. My world began and ended with you, my sun, stars, and sky. I will never forget you but I will forgive you.”
Tears burned her eyes and thickened in her throat.
“Forgive me?”
It was like those words made her more aware of her surroundings and the horror around her. She suddenly realized where she was and remembered the events that had preceded this—she was in the Underworld, and it burned. There was nothing left of the lush and elegant beauty Hades had created—not the gardens or the village of Asphodel, not even the palace loomed upon the horizon. In their place were fire and thorns—they were thick and spiraling, gathering debris like a needle through thread—and it was one of those branches that had pierced Hades through the stomach.
“No!”
She tried to command the branch to vanish, and when that didn’t work, she tried to break it, but her hands slipped on Hades’s blood.
“No, please. Hades, I didn’t mean—”
“I know,” he said, quiet. “I love you.”
“Don’t,” she begged, tears streamed down her face. Her throat hurt, and her chest hurt. “You said you wouldn’t leave. You promised.”
But Hades did not move again, and Persephone’s screams filled the silence as her pain manifested into darkness.
Later, she woke surrounded by the familiar scent of spice and ash, her body cradled gently against a hard chest. She opened her eyes and found herself within Hades’s arms. The shock of seeing him well and unharmed made her skin feel too tight and tingly.
“You did well,” he said.
His words only served to summon a fresh wave of emotion. Her lips quivered and she covered her face as she began to cry.
“It’s okay,” Hades said. His arms tightened around her, and his lips pressed into her hair. “I’m here.”
She only sobbed harder. She worked to collect herself, to rein in her emotion, because she needed distance from him and this space where she had witnessed horror that had felt so real.
She struggled free of his grasp.
“Persephone—”
She got to her feet and turned on him. He sat on the ground, looking much the same as when they started, completely unchanged by what had occurred, and that only served to anger her more.
“That was cruel.” Her throat hurt as she spoke, rasped and ruined. “Whatever that was, it was cruel.”
“It was necessary,” Hades said. “You must learn—”
“You could have warned me,” she said. “Do you even know what I saw?”
His jaw tightened and she knew he did.
“What if the roles had been reversed?”
His eyes went flat.
“They have been reversed,” he said.
She flinched. “Was that some kind of punishment?”
“Persephone—” He tried to reach for her, but she took a step away.
“Don’t.” She put her hands up to stop him. “I need time. Alone.”
“I don’t want you to go,” he said.
She didn’t know what to say, so she shrugged. “I don’t think it’s your choice.”
She vanished, but not before hearing Hades utter a low and guttural growl.
Chapter XXII
A Touch of Regret
Persephone appeared in a bathroom. As she landed, she went to her knees and vomited into the toilet. She wasn’t there long when she heard her name.
“Persephone?” Sybil’s confused voice came from nearby, and the goddess looked up to find the oracle in the doorway, a knife in hand. “Oh my gods, what happened?”
She came farther into the room, and Persephone put up her hand to stop her from approaching.
“It’s okay. I’m okay,” she said, heaving once again.
There were a few long seconds when she couldn’t speak, and Sybil approached, drawing her tangled hair away from her face and placing a cool cloth against her forehead. When the nausea passed, Persephone sat back against the tub, her body sagging with exhaustion. Sybil took a seat nearby. Persephone had no idea what she must look like, but if her hands were any sort of indication, it must be bad. They were dirty and bruised, her nails torn and bloodied, and there was a soreness in her wrist that reminded her of her earlier fall.
“Will you tell me what happened?” Sybil asked.
“It’s a long story,” Persephone answered, but really, she didn’t want to think about it right now, because she wasn’t sure she could keep from getting sick, and she had nothing left to throw up. Just thinking of having to recall details made her stomach churn.
“I have time,” Sybil said.
Movement came from the door, and for a heartbeat, Persephone thought Hades might have followed her to Sybil’s, but instead she found a familiar face staring back.
“Harmonia?” Persephone asked, her brows knitting together. “What are you doing here?”
Harmonia smiled, holding Opal in her arms. “Hanging out,” she said. “Are you alright?
”
“I will be,” Persephone replied and then looked at Sybil. “Can I…take a bath?”
“Of course,” Sybil said. “I’ll…get you some clothes.”
Persephone waited to move until Sybil returned. She placed a set of clothes on the countertop near the sink along with a towel and washcloth.
“Thanks, Sybil,” Persephone whispered.
The oracle hesitated in the doorway, frowning.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Persephone?”
“I will be,” she said and then smiled faintly. “Promise.”
“I’ll make you some tea,” Sybil said before closing the door.
Persephone rose and started the faucet, letting it run hot until the steam wafted in the air and fogged the mirror. She peeled off her clothes and lowered herself into the waiting water. Completely immersed, she closed her eyes and focused on healing everything that ached—her scratched throat, bruised body, and sprained wrist. Once she felt a little more whole, she drew her knees to her chest and buried her face into her arms and sobbed until the water was cold. After, she rose, dried off, and dressed.
She found Sybil in the living room alone, a cup of tea waiting. The oracle sat cross-legged on the couch with the television on, but Persephone didn’t recognize the program, and Sybil didn’t seem to be paying attention either. She had a deck of oracle cards in hand and was shuffling them.
“Where is Harmonia?” Persephone asked.
“She left,” Sybil said.
“Oh,” Persephone said, taking a seat beside Sybil. “I hope she didn’t leave because of me.”
She couldn’t help feeling like she had interrupted something, though she supposed she really had. She’d come to Sybil’s because it was the only place she felt she could go—and she knew it would be safe.
“Of course not,” Sybil replied. “She left because Aphrodite would come looking for her.”
“She is very protective of her sister,” Persephone said. “I…did not know you two were friends.”
“We connected shortly after we met outside your office,” Sybil said.
There was a long pause; the sound of Sybil’s shuffling continued a little while longer until she stopped and looked at Persephone.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”
Persephone sat quietly before taking a sip of tea and setting it aside.
“Everything is falling apart,” she whispered.
“Oh, Persephone,” Sybil said. “Everything is coming together.”
At her words, Persephone lay her head in Sybil’s lap and cried.
* * *
Persephone woke later to Sybil’s alarm. She’d fallen asleep on the couch without returning to the Underworld. She rose to get ready, borrowing Sybil’s clothes—a pair of thick tights, a skirt, and a button-up.
“We were supposed to visit the construction site for the Halcyon Project today but had to reschedule because of the weather,” Sybil said as she poured Persephone a cup of coffee.
Persephone frowned. She hoped Zeus kept his word and truly searched for Demeter. Better yet, she hoped the Olympians could convince her to cease her attack.
“It’s not your fault, you know,” Sybil said.
“It is,” Persephone said. “I am sure you saw this coming before it even happened.”
The oracle shook her head. “No, I would only be able to see what my god wanted me to see,” she answered. “But you are not in control of your mother’s actions.”
“Then why do I feel so responsible?”
“Because she is hurting people and blaming you,” Sybil said. “And she is wrong to do so.”
Demeter may be wrong, but the burden was still heavy. Persephone thought of the people who had died in that terrible crash on the highway. She would never forget receiving so many souls into the Underworld at once, or how she’d watched as their dreams left them as they passed beneath the elm, or the guilt that could still cling to a soul even after they passed through the gates. She knew it would not be the last time something like that happened, though she’d prefer her mother not be responsible.
Persephone sighed and took a drink of her coffee, setting it aside as they left Sybil’s apartment. They decided to walk the short distance to Alexandria Tower in the cold. Persephone considered teleporting, but part of her wanted to experience what her mother’s magic was doing firsthand. She sought to feed her anger and frustration—and it worked. The walk was miserable—snow and ice hit their faces, and their feet slid on snow, compacted on the sidewalk. Ice broke apart from towering high-rises and skyscrapers, crashing to the ground with enough impact to injure or damage.
By the time they made it up the icy steps and into the tower, they were frozen.
“Good morning, my lady!” Ivy said, coming around her desk, a coffee in each hand. “Good morning, Miss Kyros.”
She handed the cups to each of them.
“Ivy, are you a magician?” Persephone asked as she took a sip of coffee, letting the steam warm her nose.
“I’m always prepared, my lady,” Ivy answered.
Sybil started up the stairs, and as Persephone began to follow, Ivy spoke.
“My lady, I’m not sure you’ve had a chance to read the papers this morning, but I think you’ll want to start with New Athens News.”
Dread settled in Persephone’s stomach.
“It’s not good,” Ivy said as her mossy eyes met Persephone’s.
“I didn’t think it would be.”
Persephone headed upstairs to her office. After she was settled, she pulled up the news. The bold headline read:
Meet Theseus, the Demigod Leader of Triad
The article was written by Helen and began by giving an overview of Theseus—she called him a son of Poseidon, charming and well-educated. The description made Persephone feel nauseous considering she’d met the demigod and he’d made her uneasy.
The article continued:
Theseus joined Triad after witnessing several men get away with murder, despite their crimes being witnessed by mortals and divine alike.
“I still remember their names,” says Theseus. “Epidaurus, Sinis, Sciron. They were thieves and murderers, and they were allowed to continue their crime sprees despite the prayers of locals. I was tired of watching the world worship gods for their beauty and power rather than their actions.”
Theseus added:
“Gods do not think in terms of good and bad—justice or injustice. I’ll give you an example. Hades, God of the Underworld, allows criminals to continue breaking the law so long as they serve him.”
Persephone’s teeth clenched tight, her fingers digging into the screen of her tablet. While not completely untrue, Theseus’s statement was misleading. Persephone had learned upon her first visit to Iniquity that Hades was heavily involved in the criminal underworld of New Greece. He had a network of criminals at his beck and call, and they all paid a debt to continue their business in the form of a charity. Persephone did not know the extent of Hades’s reach, but from what little she knew, he ruled it.
Persephone read on:
Soon, Theseus, the son of an Olympian, found himself leading Triad down a new path—a peaceful path.
“I was horrified at the early history of Triad. The bombs and the shootings. It was barbaric. Besides, why not let the gods speak for themselves? I knew it wouldn’t take long for one—or many—to execute their wrath upon the world. I was right.”
In a fit of anger, Persephone threw her tablet. It landed with a crash against the wall and then shattered on the floor. There was silence and then the door opened. Leuce poked her head in.
“Are you okay?”
As the nymph entered, the door hit the tablet she’d thrown. Leuce paused, staring down at it, and then picked it up.
“Helen make you angry?” she asked
.
“It’s intentional,” Persephone said. “She is antagonizing me just as Triad attempts to antagonize the gods.”
“You aren’t wrong,” Leuce said, setting the broken tablet on Persephone’s desk. “Helen does not even know what she believes—she is merely a follower. Somehow, she thought that path lay with Theseus. I have no doubt she will come to regret that decision.”
She would—Persephone would see to that.
“Shall I order you a new tablet?”
“Please,” Persephone said.
“Of course.”
Leuce left, and as she closed the door behind her, Hades appeared in front of it, manifesting in coils of dark smoke. He was exhausted, his face drawn with shadows that told her he had not slept last night. A pang of guilt hit her square in the chest. He’d probably stayed up agonizing over his actions and her words.
“Do you need something?” she asked.
Hades reached behind him and turned the lock into place.
“We need to talk,” he said.
Persephone pushed away from her desk but remained seated.
“Talk,” she said.
He approached, massive frame practically filling the room, body rigid, and she thought he must be angry with her, which made her frustrated. It was he who had taken their training too far, and yet even she realized the value of what Hades had been teaching—no other god would have been merciful.
Hades knelt before her and his hands spread out over her knees.
“I am sorry,” he said, holding her gaze. “I went too far.”
Persephone swallowed and looked away. It was hard to hold his gaze given that all she could recall right now was how he’d looked in death.
“You never told me you had the power to summon fears,” she said, her voice quiet.
“Was there ever a time to speak of it?”
There wasn’t—she knew that. Still, it was part of her desire to know everything about him—the powers he possessed, the charities he maintained, the deals he made.
When she didn’t respond, Hades spoke. “If you will let me, I’d like to train you differently,” he said. “I’ll leave the magic to Hecate, and instead I will help you study the powers of the gods.”
A Touch of Malice Page 25