They entered the extravagant lobby of the hotel. Large crystal chandeliers hung midway from a seven-story ceiling that was crowned with stained glass. There were several sitting areas, and many of them were full, crowded with people, chatting and drinking.
It was a magnificent place.
And somewhere inside was Sybil, bleeding.
As Persephone’s eyes wandered, she noticed people noticing her. She wouldn’t be surprised if someone had already snapped pictures of her arriving here with Theseus sans ring and on the demigod’s arm. Paparazzi looked for that sort of thing. She turned her head toward Theseus.
“I assumed you would be more discreet,” she said between her teeth. “Since you are breaking the law.”
He smiled and leaned close, his hot breath on her ear. Onlookers would think he was whispering sweet nothings, but his words enraged her.
“You broke the law. You engaged in battle with the gods.”
“You kidnapped my friend.”
“Is it a crime if no one knows?” he asked.
She hated him.
“Do not waste your thoughts on how you will torture me when I die. Hades has already claimed that honor.”
Finally, Persephone found something to laugh about. “Oh, I will not torture you when you die. I will torture you while you live.”
Theseus did not respond, not that her words seemed to affect him. He was unafraid—and why should he fear? Right now, he was winning.
They continued along the lobby’s edge toward a grand staircase that branched off in opposite directions. They took the one on the right. The climb was four stories, and Persephone’s legs burned, but nothing could overpower the deep sense of dread that was stirring in her stomach. They topped the staircase, and Theseus led her down a hallway of doors, stopping at one on the left—number 505. He entered the room and held the door open for her.
Persephone kept her eyes trained on Theseus until she was past the threshold. There was a small entryway that spilled into a larger room, where a man stood against a wall. He was unfamiliar, large, but he stood as still as a soldier on guard. As she came into the room, her eyes connected with Sybil, whose name exploded from her mouth in a broken wail. She ran to her and dropped to her knees.
The oracle sat with her legs and arms restrained. Her head was bent to the side, resting against her shoulder. Her blond hair was matted with dried blood and covered part of her face. Persephone brushed the locks away, revealing bruised eyes, a busted lip, and a bloodied nose. Tears built and burned in the back of her throat.
“Sybil,” Persephone’s voice was more of a whine, but the oracle’s eyes opened into slits, and she tried to smile but winced and then moaned.
Persephone rose and whirled to face Theseus, her anger acute, but found another person in the room with them.
“Harmonia!”
The Goddess of Harmony was in the opposite corner, also restrained. She was bruised and beaten, far worse than she had been the night Persephone had met her in Aphrodite’s home. She bled from a wound in her side.
“Oh yes,” Theseus sneered. “That one was with her when we showed up. Made a mess of things, so I was forced to make a mess of her.”
Persephone ground her teeth, her fingers curling into her palm.
“You didn’t have to hurt them,” she said, her voice quaking.
“But I did. You will understand what it takes one day to win a war,” he said and then indicated to the large, silent man who stood against the wall. “Tannis here is your bodyguard. Tannis.”
Theseus said his name as a command, and he brandished a knife, approached Sybil, and held her wrist. She whimpered as he placed his blade against her ring finger—her middle finger was already missing.
“No!” Persephone started to move toward them, but Theseus’s voice stopped her.
“Ah-ah-ah,” he chided. “Tannis is a butcher’s son. He is an expert carver. He has been ordered to dismember your friend if you misbehave. Of course, not all at once. I will return shortly,” the demigod promised and left.
In the silence that followed, Persephone kept her back to the wall, facing the man whose hands were still upon Sybil. She wondered if he intended to remain like that while Theseus was gone.
“You should be ashamed,” she spat. “If it is the gods you hate, their actions you despise, you have placed yourself on their level.”
Tannis did not speak.
“Don’t try to reason, Seph,” Sybil managed, her voice haggard. “They have been brainwashed.”
At her comment, Theo squeezed Sybil’s hand.
“Stop!” Persephone begged. Sybil’s screams clawed at her heart. “Stop, please! Please!”
When he let it go, Sybil sobbed.
After that, none of them spoke.
Persephone sat on the edge of the hotel bed. She stared down at her naked finger, missing the comfort of the weight of her ring and fearful for Hades. She wondered if he had escaped her bindings. She closed her eyes against the memory of his expression—the shock, the desperation. He had not wanted her to walk away, and yet she’d continued, taking step after step until the door was closed. She’d told herself it wouldn’t be long—we won’t be parted for long. He would free himself from the bindings and he would come.
But the minutes turned into hours, and still they sat with no sign of Hades. Persephone fought sleep, unwilling to rest while her friends suffered beneath the gaze of her enemies. Each time she nodded off, she felt like she was falling and woke with a start. When she couldn’t stand sitting anymore, she stood. When she couldn’t stand anymore, she paced.
She wasn’t sure how many times she crossed the floor or how many hours they’d been locked in this hotel room, but the door finally opened, revealing Theseus and another large man who could have been Tannis’s twin. He passed Persephone and went straight for Sybil.
“What are you doing?”
“You are about to find out why I needed you,” Theseus said.
Persephone grit her teeth, glaring at the demigod. She hated him so much.
Then something shifted in the air, a change she couldn’t quite place, but she knew it came from Theseus, who stiffened suddenly and then twisted as the door burst open. Everything happened so fast, all Persephone could do was stare in horror as the demigod threw out his hand. His magic crackled through the air, a current like lightning meeting water, and froze Zofie, who had kicked in the door with her feet, brandishing her blade.
Persephone could tell by the expression on her face—eyes wide, mouth open—that she had not expected to face such power when she’d come to her rescue. Then Theseus manifested a blade, held it like a spear, and threw it at Zofie, striking her in the chest.
She fell to the ground in the doorway of the hotel room.
Persephone’s screams were cut off by a hand that went around her mouth. She fought against Tannis, tears streaming down her face.
“Shut up!” Theseus seethed, reaching for her arm. “If you don’t want your other friends to join her, you’ll shut up!”
Persephone shook.
“Clean this up,” Theseus ordered, staring down at Zofie with disgust.
Persephone wanted to hold her, to brush her hair from her face, tell her what an accomplished warrior she was—but Theseus kept his grip on her arm.
“Let’s go.”
He pulled her along and they filed out of the room, past Zofie, down the stairwell, into a parking garage where a limo waited. Theseus shoved Persephone inside where she came face-to-face with her mother. Seeing her was like a blast of cold air, and she recoiled.
She knew her mother would think it a weakness, that she drew back out of fear, but it wasn’t that—it was disgust. This goddess, the harvester, the nurturer, had the blood of thousands on her hands.
“Sit,” Theseus commanded, pushing her into the space
opposite her mother.
The demigod took a seat beside Demeter while Sybil and Harmonia were dragged into the limo and practically tossed into the cab opposite one another. Persephone knew why they kept them apart—they were afraid Harmonia would teleport with Sybil. Though she didn’t think the Goddess of Harmony had enough energy to use her magic.
When the doors were shut, they sped off, and Theseus spoke.
“I am taking you to Lerna Lake,” he said.
“That is an entrance to the Underworld,” Persephone said. She had never seen it in person but knew it was an ancient way into Hades’s realm. Knowing the god as she did, she could not imagine what kind of traps he’d set to prevent entry, but she could imagine they were deadly.
“Yes,” he said.
“Why not go through Nevernight?” she asked.
“Because there are too many people there who will try to protect you,” he said. “After all, you are their queen.”
Demeter scowled. “Do not speak such things. It makes me sick.”
Persephone glared. “Why do you wish to enter the Underworld? Are you hoping to retrieve a soul?”
“I am not so predictable,” he said. “You will lead me to Hades’s arsenal, and you will ensure my safe passage.”
“You want weapons?”
“I want a weapon,” Theseus said. “The Helm of Darkness.”
She swallowed thickly.
“You wish to wear Hades’s helm,” she said. “And what? Steal the other weapons?”
“I will not have to steal them. They will be given to me,” he said.
She should have guessed. Poseidon was his father, keeper of the trident, and Hera would ensure he had Zeus’s lightning bolt. They were weapons of war that aided the Olympians in defeating the Titans—it made sense that Theseus would think he could use them to overthrow the Olympians.
“Those weapons will not help you win a war against the Olympians. The gods are far stronger now.”
“I never rely on one method to defeat my enemy,” Theseus said.
She was not surprised that he did not elaborate. Theseus was not one to wax poetic about his plans.
Once he’d given her the mission, no one spoke again. Persephone feared saying something that might cause Theseus to pull over and cut up Sybil or Harmonia.
She looked at them, staring hard to make sure they were both breathing. Harmonia rested her head against the window while Sybil sagged against the leather.
The car came to a stop, and the doors on both sides of the vehicle opened. Persephone was dragged out of the car by Tannis. They’d stopped close to the shore of Lerna Lake, and she was guided with a heavy hand on her shoulder, down a rickety pier where a rowboat waited. A lantern hung at its prow and illuminated a small part of the black lake.
“In,” Tannis commanded, again giving Persephone a little push.
She glared at the man but stepped into the boat. She was followed by Theseus, who helped Demeter. Then came Sybil and Harmonia. Sybil shook as she stepped down, but she managed to do so without trouble. Then she turned to reach for Harmonia, who was pale and still bleeding from whatever wound had been inflicted at her side.
“Do not touch her,” Theseus commanded. “Demeter.”
The Goddess of Harvest reached for Harmonia’s arm and yanked her down into the boat. Persephone leaned forward and managed to catch the goddess before she smacked the side of the boat.
“I said don’t touch her,” Theseus said and swung. Persephone ducked as the oar flew over her head. When he tried to hit her again, she reached out and grabbed it, stopping his attack, her eyes gleaming.
“If you want that helm, I suggest you start rowing,” she said. “You don’t have long before Hades breaks my binds.”
At her words, Theseus seemed to become amused and jerked the oar from her grasp.
“As you wish, Queen of the Underworld.”
Theseus pushed off the pier. The water was dark and thick, as if it weren’t water at all but oil. Persephone watched the surface, feeling a presence below; something monstrous lived within its depths. It wasn’t until they were almost across the lake—the cave entrance looming—that whatever lived in the water made itself known by rocking the boat hard, causing water to splash them.
Theseus’s eyes found Persephone.
“What did I say?”
Before she had a chance to react, a horrible cry came from the darkness around them, and the boat was flipped.
Persephone hit the water hard but broke the surface quickly, in time to see Sybil struggling to hold Harmonia up.
“Sybil!” Persephone called, but just as she started to swim toward the two, a shock of power sent them flying back. Persephone fought the waves as a creature roared, exploding from the water—followed by Demeter, who stood atop a plume of water. The creature was something Persephone didn’t recognize. She was a goddess with large, downturned horns that stuck out on either side of her head. Her hair was long and fell over her shoulders, down her naked breasts, falling to the edge of her scaly tentacles—which she’d used to hold Theseus prisoner.
“Ceto,” Demeter said. “I will not hesitate to sever your tentacles from your body.”
“You can try, dread Demeter,” she said. “But you are not welcome here.”
Her mother summoned a blade and jumped, moving in a blur. In the next second, the tentacle that held Theseus was severed, falling into the black lake below. Ceto roared and lashed out at Demeter, sending the goddess flying. In her rage, the waves rose, high and fast, burying Persephone, Sybil, and Harmonia beneath the surface once more.
“Stop!” Persephone cried, water rushing into her mouth, but the two goddesses continued to engage, creating chaos in the lake around them. Ceto’s tentacles swept out, catching Persephone around her waist and lifting her from the lake.
“Ceto!” she cried, her lungs burning as she coughed, spitting up water. “I command you to stop!”
The goddess froze and turned toward Persephone; her eyes widened.
“My lady,” Ceto said, placing her hand to her chest and bowing her head. “Forgive me. I did not sense you.”
Persephone started to speak when she felt a rush of Demeter’s power. Her head snapped in her mother’s direction in time to see the goddess wielding her sword in midair.
“No,” she snapped, and her mother froze, eyes wide and wild, face contorted in an angry scowl. Persephone turned back to Ceto. “My friends are in this lake,” Persephone said. “Will you find them for me?”
“Of course, my queen,” Ceto said, but her eyes shifted to Demeter, who was still suspended in the air.
“She will not bother you again,” Persephone promised.
Ceto moved Persephone to the shore, before the cave-like entrance to the Underworld, and disappeared below the water. It wasn’t long before the monster returned with Sybil and Harmonia. As she set them on the sandy beach, they both collapsed, exhausted from fighting the water’s unnatural current. Sybil rolled onto her hands and knees and crawled to Harmonia, who looked pale, almost blue. Persephone ran, falling to her knees beside them.
“Harmonia! Open your eyes!” she begged. “Harmonia!”
But the goddess would not respond. Persephone looked frantically from her face to her chest, sensing the faint pulse of life—but it was quickly fading.
“Sybil, move!” Persephone commanded, pushing the oracle out of the way. She placed her hands upon the goddess’s chest and closed her eyes, seeking the life that remained inside her, and when she pinned it down, her body began to feel warm—the same way it felt when she healed. She pushed that heat into Harmonia, and after a moment, her stomach turned, and she was forced to pull away and vomit into the sand. It was nothing but water, but it burned the back of her throat and dripped from her nose. As she did, Harmonia took a deep breath.
They barel
y had time to recover before Theseus appeared, dragging Sybil up by her hair, drawing a knife against her throat.
“No, please! Please!” Persephone begged. She was on her hands and knees before the demigod, frantic.
“I told you safe passage,” Theseus said through gritted teeth.
“I did not know!” she screamed, her voice breaking.
“It doesn’t matter what you know,” he snapped. “She will suffer for your ignorance!”
He released Sybil’s hair and grabbed her hand, cutting off a second finger and throwing it at Persephone’s feet. Sybil screamed, Harmonia sobbed, and Persephone raged, her eyes burning with tears.
Once it was done, Theseus seemed to calm.
“Get up,” he commanded. Then he turned to where Demeter still hung, suspended in the air. “Release her.”
Persephone did as he asked, and the goddess plummeted into the lake. It took a few minutes for her to join them onshore, her eyes bright and gleaming with just as much anger as Persephone felt.
“Lead us into the Underworld,” Theseus commanded.
Chapter XXXVII
Hades
Motherfucking Theseus.
Forget an eternity of misery in Tartarus, Hades would not rest until his nephew ceased to exist. He would shatter his soul, cut his thread into a million pieces, and consume them. It would be the most savory meal he’d ever eaten.
Fucking favor.
Fucking Fates.
He strained against Persephone’s bindings, his limbs shook, and his muscles tightened, but they would not give.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She was powerful, and he would have felt more pride if she hadn’t left with that bastard demigod. He knew why she’d done it. She’d wanted to protect him, and the thought filled him with a conflict that made his chest ache. He loved her so much, and he raged that she would put herself in danger, even if he understood it.
What would Theseus do to her?
The thought sent another wave of fury through him, and he fought against her bindings once more. This time, he heard the distinct snap of one, and his foot was free. He wrenched his arm, veins rising to the surface of his skin, and the vine cut into his wrist until it finally broke. He tore at the remaining bindings after that, and once he was free, he teleported.
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