Magic Awakened: A Paranormal Romance Boxed Set

by K.N. Lee

  Yet, I could not overcome the bewildered, frightened expression in her eyes. I had expected her to come to me full of righteous anger and impertinence. Instead, she seemed lost, if not terrified.

  “What troubles you, Persephone?” I asked gently as she mechanically sat down on the divan. “What has frightened you? Was it I?”

  Persephone turned her eyes to me, wide, wild, wondering eyes.

  “What kind of creatures were my attendants?” she whispered, clasping her hands together so that they would not tremble. “They were pale and terrible, with glass eyes and shrunken mouths. And their hands! Their hands were ice cold.”

  I nodded sympathetically, glad of a chance to begin to explain to her the things of my realm—our realm—that she would need to know.

  “Those are damned souls, condemned to spend eternity in torment,” I said softly. “Pay them no mind, Persephone. They are your subjects now, and your only duty to them is to see that they do not escape and that no other god interferes with them.”

  Persephone regarded me with a furrowed brow. Unconsciously, she hugged herself against some great worry. I felt an unreasonable and inconvenient wave of desire rush through my body at the sight of her small fingers softly squeezing and rubbing the white flesh of her arms. I stirred under the heavy layers of linen that I wore wrapped sarong-style around my waist, and my own hand rose, seemingly of its own volition, to rest against the burning skin of my chest, pressing against my heart.

  “How can you say to pay them no mind?” Persephone said suddenly, breaking into my lust-filled reverie.

  I stared at her for a moment like a dumb youth, gathering my wits from various other parts of my body.

  “What do you mean, my lady?” I asked cautiously.

  “How can you say to pay them no mind when they are doomed to suffer for all eternity?” she cried, her eyes welling up with tears that I longed to taste as if they were the most sacred ambrosia. “Are you so hardened that you feel nothing for their awful fate?”

  “Their fate was of their own making,” I replied gently but firmly. “In life, they knew the rules of the gods, they knew that evil would only bring them eternal lamentation. Yet, they chose that path.”

  “But, for all eternity?” Persephone gasped, her pale face struggling with sorrow and disbelief. “That is cruel, my lord! Is there no pity, no compassion to be won from the king of the dead?”

  I sighed and picked up the wide-lipped, shallow cup of wine from the table before me, sipping the thick, cinnamon-spiced wine.

  “The dead are to be respected, not pitied,” I replied finally. “They deserve no more…and no less.”

  Persephone bit her lip and narrowed her eyes as if to hold in sudden tears. How I longed to kiss those fine eyelids and taste the salt of her sorrow! I found that I could not help myself. I leaned forward and took one of her little fists, unfurling the fingers to entwine them with mine.

  “Persephone,” I said. “These unfortunate creatures do have my sympathy in some measure. But, not even a god can gainsay what the Fates have decreed, and the Fates spin the thread of each mortal’s life.”

  “Then if a mortal is fated to do evil, what hope do they have?” Persephone asked fretfully, surreptitiously tugging her fingers as if to release them from my grasp.

  I shook my head and held her hand more tightly. “Every choice a mortal makes is a turn of the Fates’ spinning wheel. It is the consequences of their choices that the Fates dictate, not the choices themselves. Do I have pity for the mortals that make wrong choices? Yes. Is there aught I can do to prevent it? No. Not even Zeus can turn a mortal truly bent on evil or foolishness.”

  Persephone looked down at the floor, biting her lip.

  “I cannot stay here,” she said finally. “I cannot become as cold as you are. I cannot live with the dead around me, with their looks of dumb suffering. I will go mad.”

  Her voice was low, but it trembled. I feared that some kind of hysterics were imminent.

  “Nonsense,” I said sharply. “To be their queen is to honor their suffering. You, along with me, are their protectors. None may interfere with the souls of the dead or turn them for foul purposes.”

  “There are those who would do that?” Persephone asked in a strained voice, a note of fear creeping into it again.

  I nodded. “Yes,” I said simply, not wanting to elaborate lest it frighten her worse. There was time enough later to speak of Giants and Titans. “My realm is dark, Persephone, but you bring light and joy to all around you, and nowhere is that needed more than here,” I added, pressing her hand to my heart and looking deep into her eyes, as if my gaze could speak truer than my words.

  I brought her captured hand to my lips and covered it with kisses, inhaling her sweet, earthy scent. “Come, my beloved queen. Let us eat. I have had the finest dishes of the earth brought for your pleasure. The freshest turbot from my brother Poseidon, venison from the bow of Artemis, the sweetest wines from the cellars of Bacchus himself.”

  Persephone looked at me long and earnestly, and suddenly I felt a fool for trying to play the lover.

  “I will tell you this once and once only,” she said in a quiet, firm little voice. “No morsel of food or drop of wine shall touch my lips until I am free to leave this place.”

  I quickly let go of her hand lest I should crush it with my sudden spasm of anger. Just when it seemed that I was breaking through the brittle shell of resistance, she had to go and show yet another streak of rebellion.

  “Do not be foolish, Persephone. Enjoy this meal that I have prepared out of love for you.”

  “Was it cooked by the hands of the dead?” she fired back. “I cannot eat that which is touched by death!”

  “Stop this nonsense at once,” I growled. “Why can’t you be pleasant and appreciate the good fortune that has befallen you? You are beloved by one of the three most powerful gods of Olympus!”

  “But you are not of Olympus,” Persephone retorted, rising. “You are of Tartarus. I pity you for the eternity you must spend in darkness, but I cannot willingly bind myself to such a fate. I am going back to my rooms. You may come and get me when you are ready to return me to the world above.”

  With that, she turned on her elegant little heel and strode out of the room, her golden head held high.

  I jumped to my feet, ready to follow her, to drag her kicking and screaming back to my rooms and force her to submit to my kisses, to learn, accept, and return the full extent of my love, my desire for her. In frustration, I ripped the linen wrap from my waist and stood naked in the middle of the room, my manhood hard and my heart angry.

  I roared in anguish to release in rage what I could not slake through love. The sound of my mighty voice rattled the iron candelabras against the marble floors and shook the cups and platters onto the floor with a dull crash.

  My roar died into a wail, and I found myself sobbing, collapsing into my cold and lonely bed. What had I done? She would never love me. How could I have been so wrong? And what was I to do, for I knew that I would love her for all eternity, even as she would despise me for the same.

  Eventually, exhausted from emotions I was unused to feeling, let alone expressing, I sank into slumber, my consciousness growing large and joining with the other dreams of other gods to weave the tapestry of reality for mortals.

  Chapter 4

  The next morning, I was awakened rudely by Ascalaphous, the son of Acheron, the great river of woe. I eyed the ferret-faced youth narrowly, both out of irritation at being waked so suddenly and because I had never really liked the tattling, prattling boy to begin with.

  But this morning, he came with an urgent message.

  “You are needed!” he gasped, clutching at his tunic with his oddly long, white fingers. “The Lady Persephone is screaming and screaming, and no one can stop her!”

  My heart in my throat, choking off any cry of alarm, I sprang from my bed, and with all my might and speed, I was at the door of Persephone’s chamber. I s
topped short of entering, arrested by her terrified cries. Summoning all the energy of my divinity around me, I smashed open the doors and burst into her room.

  The sight enraged me, but my anger was not directed at Persephone. No, she aroused my pity, wiping away all the furor from the night before and leaving only mournful love in its place.

  Persephone cowered on her knees, backed into a corner, holding her arms protectively around her head. Surrounding her in a semi-circle and preventing her escape were the ‘attendants’ I had given her. They were sickly grey in color, as were all the tormented dead, and their skin had a curious, waxy sheen to it. Their lifeless eyes stared into the nothingness before them. Their lips had shriveled, for no words could pass the mouths of the dead. Words were for use in life to make choices, not to make excuses after death.

  I knew what had happened, now. The attendants had approached Persephone to serve her, and she, far too keenly perceptive of their suffering, had tried to reach out to them. Mindlessly sensing the false possibility of pity or escape, they had begun to press in on her, silently begging in a way that would chill the heartiest soul to the bone, for it was a begging without reason, a plea from a pitiful monster who knew nothing other than the anguish of their existence.

  “Enough!” I said, putting all of the authority of my divinity into my voice. The shades turned and silently fled the room.

  Persephone cautiously raised her eyes and looked at me, terrified and bewildered.

  I did not hesitate. In a single movement that was too fast for a mortal eye to see, I had caught her into my arms and was holding her close, stroking her chilly limbs with my hands and kissing her hair, trying to share my own meager warmth with the shivering girl.

  For a few moments, she did not protest being in my embrace, and I savored each second, striving to use my will to force time to stretch and linger. Her body was so slight and trembled deliciously against my naked body. I could feel each soft bump and curve through the sheer silk sleeping shift that barely clung to her ivory shoulders. I hardened against her, eagerly and helplessly pressing against her thigh. Though my main thought at that moment was to comfort her, I could not deny my constant desire for her.

  She felt me stiffen, and to my sorrow, it seemed to bring her out of the fearful reverie that had allowed her to stay in my arms without complaint.

  “I cannot stay here,” she said simply, stepping out of my embrace and looking up at me. “I cannot live with so much death. I will die myself!”

  I frowned, for a god does not speak lightly of quenching the immortal light within them. There had been those gods who, out of grief, madness, love, or what-have-you, had chosen to submit to Thanatos. But the thought of Persephone doing such a thing was both alarming and impossible to tolerate even for a moment.

  “You will not die, Persephone,” I said, allowing a note of stern scolding to creep into my voice. “You are stronger than that, and you know it.”

  She stared up at me, startled as if I had revealed a secret that she had suspected but never fully admitted.

  “In fact,” I said softly, taking a step towards her, “You have known for many ages that there lies deep in your being a terrible power, a potential untapped but once breached, unstoppable. This knowledge terrified you, and you hid from yourself by playing silly games with silly nymphs.”

  Persephone glared at me and bit her lip hard. I was glad to see this shift to anger in her, for it chased away her terror. Perhaps I could even use it to spur her on to take the first step in fulfilling her destiny as my queen and as one of the greatest goddesses of Olympus.

  “How do I know such things?” I continued, taking yet another step towards her until our bodies all but touched. “You forget that the one you shun and scold is the brother of Zeus and son of Cronos. There are few things in this cosmos that could remain a mystery if I chose to know them.”

  “Enough!”

  Her word took me by surprise, it was spoken with such angry vehemence. She took a bold step towards me.

  “You think you know me, that you are the hand that can shape and mold my power,” she hissed, her eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring. There was an odd, resonant ring to her voice, as if the true spirit of her being were speaking. “What if I told you, oh, high and mighty Hades, that you are no great oracle to reveal this to me. You greatly underestimate me if you think that I could not contain and direct my own power.”

  She took another step toward me and was but a breath away from forcing me to suffer marvelous agony of her body pressed against mine. “Last night, we spoke of the choices of mortals. This morning, let us speak of the choices of the gods! I chose to remain innocent, to devote myself to all that lived and grew and was born fresh unto the earth. It was my choice! You made a choice to wrong me, to drag me from my good and right path. But, unlike a mortal that must suffer the consequences of their evil upon death, you pay nothing for your sin. You had a choice that day, Hades. You had a choice.”

  I regarded her coldly, icy anger steeling my heart to her striking, glowing beauty, made all the more radiant for her rage.

  “Where was this power of yours, this strength you claim to know and control, a few moments ago when you were cowering in the corner like a whipped slave?” I asked coolly. “You are yet a godling, Persephone. You are fool as well if you think my choice to take you was made from evil motives.”

  We stood there like two statues, glaring at each other. It was a game that Persephone was destined to lose, for her divine presence was young and weak compared to mine. When she finally turned away from me, I closed my eyes, my heart swelling with sorrow that we had come to such a pass. I was exhausted, for being a stoic god, I was unused to such ups and downs of emotion. I marveled and despaired at the way Persephone could swing me like a pendulum from anger to arousal, from love to loathing. Resolving that moment to try harder to be patient with her, I approached her as she stood, staring bleakly into the polished bronze mirror that hung on the painted wall of her room.

  “Come, Persephone,” I said gently, laying my hand on her shoulder, unable to resist the temptation of stroking her skin with my thumb. “Let me show you things about this realm that you do not yet know. Reserve your judgment of me and of my kingdom until you have seen all the roads that lead from the many gates of this palace.”

  Perhaps she had made a similar resolution, for instead of lashing out at me, she simply studied my reflection in the mirror and then nodded. I also noticed that her eyes fleetingly strayed down from my face to glimpse at my naked body, and I couldn’t help but smile inwardly at her curiosity, hoping it was for the best. When she turned to me, there was a slight flush on her cheeks, but she said nothing to indicate if I pleased her or revolted her.

  She glanced down at her own raiment and said, “If we are to go from here, I cannot go out like this. But…I…I cannot have them near me. I cannot bear their touch.”

  An idea sprang to my lips, but I put it aside for later, when the time was right.

  “You are fine as you are, my lady,” I said instead. “No one shall say an untoward thing about you, for indeed, how could they dare question Hades’ glorious queen?”

  I saw that she was about to protest, and I simply held out my hand.

  “Come, my lady,” I said. “Let us go.”

  Chapter 5

  It pleased me to see all the shades who inhabited my palace bow and pay homage to Persephone as we passed them, making our way to the grounds.

  She looked around her, taking in the dim, unending twilight of Tartarus. For though the entrance to my kingdom lay through the dark places of the earth, I had refused to spend eternity in a cave, and using such power and magic as I could summon, I had created wide, wan meadows and the appearance of a grey sky for my dwelling place. It was the best I could do to bring some semblance of relief to the utter darkness of the Underworld.

  Now, as Persephone walked through these meadows with me, in every place her precious feet touched, clusters of pale asphodel
with their pointed white petals, sprung up. It gladdened my heart that even here, her power to summon life was evident.

  At last, we reached the great wall that enclosed the grounds of my palace. Innumerable gates punctured the wall. Each was of a different shape and size, and each was guarded by one of the tormented dead—yet another grim chore I had managed to find for the never-ending stream of misguided spirits that were sentenced to serve me.

  Persephone had been silent to this point, and I had not forced the issue of conversation. I was content enough to have her by my side and to have her little hand resting—though not clasping in return—my own.

  “Where are we going?” she asked suddenly, breaking the quiet that had fallen between us.

  “Everywhere,” I replied. “And nowhere.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There is no distance in my kingdom, only the perception of it,” I said quietly. “It is all an illusion that I must create for the souls of mortals. If we walk through a field, it is because I wish to give you some semblance of the world of nature that you love so much, though I know my powers cannot conjure the sun in a sunless realm.”

  She looked at me quietly as we walked, studying my face as I spoke.

  “And the gates?” she asked, her gaze flickering to the wall that seemed to stretch forever around the boundless waste that surrounded my palace.