At first she did not know who had come to her rescue, but then her eyes fell upon Hephaestus, whose eyes glowed with raw power and flame. He turned his back to her and faced Poseidon, who rose from the rubble, his trident gleaming.
Suddenly, her head was yanked back, and she stared into Hera’s cruel eyes as she lifted a blade and brought it down upon Persephone’s neck. She reached for Hera’s hand and summoned spires from her fingertips. They sank deep into the goddess’s flesh and she screamed, wrenching away, her sword going flying. Rage flashed in Hera’s eyes, and she picked Persephone up by the arm and threw her. She flew through the air, the wind sharp against her skin. She landed on her feet but in a crater, and as she jumped from it, Hera continued toward her. Persephone gathered her magic, and blackened limbs burst from the earth, tangling around Hera’s arms and ankles, holding her aloft in the sky. The goddess struggled, and her scream sounded animalistic, until the vines closed over her mouth, silencing her.
There was a moment when Persephone stood at the edge of the abyss her body had created, staring out at the destruction brought about by the gods. The earth was barren and cracked, and fires raged, cutting across the land like rivers of flame, the sky heavy with smoke. The magic of the gods was heavy in the air, an energy that felt like doom and sounded like thunder.
Across the field, the Olympians were locked in battle with one another—blades and spears clanked and clashed, while bursts of powerful magic countered attacks. Apollo released arrows upon Ares, who blocked them with his spear. Hephaestus used his fire-like whip to block blow after blow of Poseidon’s trident, while Artemis and Aphrodite crossed blades. Then there was Hades, who was still locked in a fierce battle with Zeus. The two struck at each other with their weapons—Hades’s bident and Zeus’s lightning bolt. Each time they clashed, there was an explosion of power, and it seemed to feed their anger.
Persephone focused on the two, her magic rising to grip Zeus’s ankles and arms. The god broke her hold easily, but she persisted, and Zeus roared with anger. Hades used the opportunity to send shadows shuddering through him until he stumbled backward. As he fell, the ground yawned open, urged by Persephone’s magic, and the god fell into the abyss, dirt and rubble filling the hole, burying him alive.
Hades turned to Persephone just as the ground began to shake, and Zeus tore free from the ground in an explosion of earth, showering the gods with dirt and rock. Lightning crackled around the King of the Gods, and his eyes glowed. A terrible fear shivered through Persephone when she saw him and felt his power. It was like a poison, making her stomach sour.
“Persephone!” Hades roared.
The lightning hit fast. Her body shook uncontrollably, and her limbs froze in place, eyes wide, mouth open. She could only see the flash of violet light, smell burning hair and flesh. She did not know how long she suffered beneath the shock, but something happened, a shift in her body as it adjusted to the feel of the magic that had initially accosted her body, and suddenly, she could harness it. As Zeus’s attack ended, Persephone felt aglow, her body zinging with electricity. Her eyes narrowed upon Zeus in the sky, and she gathered his magic as if it were her own, sending it striking toward him.
His eyes widened just as he was hit, and his body convulsed in the sky.
When the assault ended, Zeus fell, his landing shaking the Earth. Persephone’s vision swam and her lungs rattled. She turned, searching for Hades, only to find Ares releasing his golden spear. It cut through the air at an inhuman speed—too fast for Persephone to move.
In the next second, she was pushed to the ground, and she twisted to see Aphrodite’s body arch as she was pierced by the spear. It lodged in the ground behind her, and she was pinned at its center, her arms hanging limp beside her, blood dripping from her mouth.
“No!” Hephaestus’s roar was so loud and so deafening, it halted the battle. Everyone watched as he tore his way toward her, wreathed in flame. Reaching for the spear, he pulled it free from her body. One arm was wrapped around her shoulders, the other pressed on her stomach.
“Aphrodite—” Ares spoke her name as his feet touched the ground. “I didn’t mean—”
“If you take another step, I will slit your throat,” Hephaestus threatened.
“Aphrodite,” Persephone whispered, her throat thick with tears. “No.”
“Persephone,” Hades said, suddenly beside her, urging her to her feet. “Come.”
“Aphrodite!” she screamed.
“We must go,” Hades said.
“Apollo! Heal her!” Persephone cried.
Hades gathered her into his arms.
“No!” she roared even as they vanished.
Chapter XXXV
A Favor
She was still screaming when they appeared in their bedchamber.
“It’s going to be okay,” Hades said, his arms tight around her, holding her up.
“She took that spear for me,” Persephone cried, burying her face in his chest.
“Aphrodite will be well,” Hades said. “It is not yet her time to die.”
Even hearing those words, it took a while for Persephone to calm down. The day had begun on such a beautiful note—a euphoria she’d never felt before—and it had quickly spiraled. Sybil was still missing, there were thousands of dead buried beneath that avalanche, and the Olympians were now divided.
“Sit,” Hades said, guiding her to the edge of the bed.
“Hades, we cannot stay here,” Persephone said. “We have to find Sybil.”
“I know, I know. Just let me make sure you are well,” he said.
Persephone’s brows knitted together. She felt fine, then her eyes lowered to her shirt, and she realized it was covered in blood.
“I’m fine. I healed myself.”
“Please.”
The word was quiet, breathless, and so she nodded and let him unbutton her shirt. He seemed to relax when he found unmarred skin.
“Hades.” She started to reach for his face, but he stood.
“Fuck!” he yelled.
She flinched.
“I never fucking wanted this for you,” he said, raking his fingers through his unbound hair.
“Hades, this is not your fault.”
“I wanted to protect you from this.”
“You had no control over how the gods would act today, Hades.” He kept his eyes averted, glaring, jaw ticking. “I made a choice to use my power. Zeus made a choice to end me.”
“I will destroy him.”
“I have no doubt,” she said and rose to her feet. “And I will be beside you when you do.”
She expected Hades to say no, but instead he reached to stroke her cheek.
“Beside me,” he repeated and let his hand fall. “Tell me about Sybil.”
Persephone explained what she’d found on the desk this morning—the black box, tied neatly with a red ribbon, containing Sybil’s finger.
“You are certain it was Sybil’s?”
“Yes.” Persephone knew Sybil’s energy for one, but she also recognized the polish on the bloodied nail.
“Where is it now?”
“It’s still in my office.” She’d been too frantic to think to bring it with her when she left to check Sybil’s apartment.
“We’ll have to retrieve it,” Hades said. “Hecate can cast a tracing spell that will at least tell us where her finger was removed.”
It was hard to believe they were speaking so casually about Sybil’s abduction and what, essentially, was torture. The reality sent a shiver of rage through Persephone.
“What do we do if she isn’t there?” Persephone asked.
“I cannot say,” Hades replied. “It depends on what we find when we trace her.”
Persephone knew why Sybil had been taken—it was a way to lure her, but where? Persephone suspected the kidnapping was Deme
ter’s idea based on the prophecy she’d given to Ben, but who had taken her? The same people who had mercilessly attacked Adonis and Harmonia and Tyche?
“Come. We must hurry. We cannot spend much time outside the Underworld given how we left the Olympians,” Hades said.
As soon as they appeared in her office, Persephone knew something was wrong. Hades stiffened beside her, and his grasp tightened around her waist. There was a dried, bloody rectangle on her desk where Sybil’s finger had rested in the box too long, and it was gone. Her eyes shifted to the couch, where Theseus sat. He looked much the same as when she’d met him, if not more relaxed, one leg crossed over the other, arms stretching out on the back of the seat.
Persephone scowled. “You.”
The demigod looked amused, his dark brows rising over aquamarine eyes.
“Me,” Theseus said, mouth tilting into a smirk.
“Where is Sybil?” Persephone demanded.
“She’s right here,” he said and held up the finger.
Persephone’s eyes darkened.
“What do you want with her?”
“Your cooperation,” Theseus said. “I will need it after I collect my favor.”
Favor?
That word made Persephone’s blood run cold.
The demigod’s eyes shifted to Hades, and there was a horrible silence. Whatever Theseus was here to collect caused Hades’s grip to tighten on her, his fingers digging into her side painfully. Persephone looked at the god, but all she could see was the bottom of his jaw as he glared at the demigod.
“What favor?” she asked.
“The favor Hades owes me,” Theseus explained, his voice still so casual. “For my aid in saving your relationship.”
“What is he talking about?” Persephone looked at Hades again. When he didn’t respond, she whispered his name. “Hades?”
“He returned a relic that fell into the wrong hands to me,” Hades gritted out, then he added, as if to explain why he’d felt obligated to grant such a monumental gift, “You have learned the devastation such a piece can cause.”
She had. The relics had resulted in Harmonia’s injuries and Tyche’s death.
Persephone’s eyes returned to Theseus, whose smile was wicked. He took pleasure from this, she realized with disgust.
“What is it you want from him?”
“You,” the demigod replied, as if it were obvious.
“Me?” Persephone repeated.
“No,” Hades said, and Persephone felt his magic rise.
“Favors are binding, Hades,” Theseus said. “You are obligated to fulfill my request.”
“I know the nature of favors, Theseus,” Hades hissed.
“You would face Divine death?” Theseus asked, rising from his spot on the couch.
“Hades, no!” Persephone said. She clutched his robes, but he would not look at her, his gaze trained upon Theseus, his body tense and ready for battle. Horrible memories ravished her mind. They were false memories, drawn from her greatest fears when she’d battled Hades in her grove, but they’d felt real. She still remembered the weight of his head in her lap and the way his blood darkened as it dried.
“For Persephone?” Hades asked. “Yes.”
“I’m only asking to borrow her. You can have her back when I’m through.”
Disgust made Persephone’s stomach roil.
“Why me?” she asked.
“That is a conversation for another time. For now, you must leave here with me, and Hades cannot follow. If you do not do as I say, I will murder your friend in front of you.”
Persephone’s eyes burned, and she turned to Hades, gripping his arm until he stared down at her.
“Persephone.” He said her name, desperate and pained.
“It’s going to be okay.”
“No, Persephone.”
“I have lost too many people. This way…I can keep you all.”
He held her, his fingers digging into her arms. She knew what he was thinking—this was the last time he would see her. She pressed her lips to his and they kissed softly. As she pulled away, she whispered.
“Trust me.”
“I trust you,” he said.
“Then let me go.”
And to her surprise, he did.
Behind them, Theseus chuckled and opened the door, waiting for her to pass through.
“You have made the right decision.”
She brushed past Hades, and as much as she’d encouraged him to let her go, she felt the weight of his absence immediately. All she wanted was to return to him. She paused when she came to stand beside Theseus, which only seemed to make Hades grow more tense.
“Persephone,” Hades said her name again, and her heart ached in a way it never had before, like it was wrapped in thread pulled so tight, it could barely beat.
“I love you,” she said. “And I know you.”
The second this door was closed, he would come after her, and she could not risk it. Sybil would die, and Hades would face an eternity of being hunted by Nemesis.
She couldn’t let that happen.
His eyes widened at her words, and then great black vines sprouted from the ground, wrapping around his feet and wrists. Their weight anchored him to the ground, causing it to buckle beneath his feet. He struggled against the bindings, his muscles rippling, veins popping, but he could not break free of them.
“Persephone!” Hades bellowed as the door slammed closed, blocking him from her view. Guilt slammed into her, and tears welled in her eyes. She was left facing Theseus, whose lips were curled, eyes alight with amusement.
“Well done. He will never forgive you for that.”
Part III
“Men are so quick to blame the gods: they say
that we devise their misery. But they
themselves—in their depravity—design
grief greater than the griefs that fate assigns.”
—Homer, The Odyssey
Chapter XXXVI
Persephone
Theseus ushered Persephone out of Alexandria Tower and into a waiting SUV. Inside, the windows were so dark, she couldn’t see out. Theseus climbed into the vehicle behind her and held out his hand.
“Your ring,” he demanded.
“My—why?”
“Your ring or I will cut your finger off too.”
Persephone glared at him. She wanted so badly to use her magic against this demigod, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it, not without knowing if Sybil was okay.
She twisted her ring from her finger and handed it over, feeling as if she were giving away a piece of her heart. She watched as Theseus placed it in the inside pocket of his jacket.
“Where are you taking me?” she demanded.
“We will be going to the Diadem Hotel,” he said. “Until I am ready to execute my plans with you.”
“And what are those?” She couldn’t keep her voice from shaking.
He chuckled. “I am not one to show my hand before I am ready, Queen Persephone.”
She ignored his use of her title; it was likely not serious—just a way to get under her skin.
“Is Sybil there? At the hotel?”
“Yes,” he said. “You will get to see her. You will need to see her so you can remember why you must follow through on your mission.”
Persephone let the silence stretch for a moment before speaking again.
“You are working with my mother?”
“We have common goals,” he said.
“You both want to overthrow the gods,” she said.
“Not overthrow,” he said. “Destroy.”
“Why? What do you have against the gods? You were born from one.”
Even if Theseus had wanted to, he could not deny his parentage.
“I
do not hate all gods, just the inflexible ones,” he said.
“You mean the ones who will not let you have your way?”
“You make me sound selfish. Have I not always spoken of helping the greater good?”
“We both know you want power, Theseus. You are only playing at offering mortals what other gods will not grant.”
Theseus grinned. “Ever the skeptic, Lady Persephone.”
She was not sure how long they drove, but at some point, the car came to a stop. Theseus leaned toward her and captured her chin between his fingers, squeezing hard and forcing her to meet his gaze.
“We have a bit of a stroll to make,” he said. “Just know I will be counting the number of times you misbehave, and for each offense, I will cut another finger from your friend. If I run out of fingers, I will move on to toes.”
He released her and she glared, breathing hard.
“I trust you will obey.”
Just as he spoke, someone opened her door, and she almost fell from the vehicle, but she caught herself and shifted, stepping from the cabin gracefully, the threat from Theseus still in her mind.
The Diadem Hotel was grand, a palace-like structure that spanned miles. Persephone had never been inside before, but she knew that the place boasted several upscale restaurants and was an escape for both local residents and vacationers.
Theseus came around the SUV and looped his arm with hers.
“Does Hera know you are using her facility for treasonous activities?”
Theseus laughed—a deep belly laugh that Persephone found appalling despite its warmth. Then he said, “Of all the gods, Hera has been on our side the longest.”
A Touch of Malice Page 37