Persephone resolved to behave as long as she could stand it. Truly it would be healthier to get over her crush on Hades and maybe, someday, marry someone else and have that man’s children…but the idea only made her dreadfully sad.
HADES KNEW HE loved Persephone within a month of her theft of the pomegranate. It was exactly as she said: now that she had eaten the Underworld’s fruit, she possessed the wisdom and experience of several lifetimes. She had been Tanis, and many other people besides. Accordingly, he let himself stop viewing her as an oblivious virgin, even if technically she hadn’t lain with anyone in this life.
Being around her now was nine parts bliss and one part torment. And he wanted it to last as long as possible. In the chariot or when switching realms, she pressed her body so close against him. She felt warm and sweetly curved, and smelled delicious, like an apple ripe for plucking. Every day, more and more, he longed to touch her, arouse her, pin her to the ground beneath him.
But of course he couldn’t say, or do, a thing about it.
At the end of her visit one day, as they flew back to her house, something in the fading twilight and the ocean scent from downriver made him think of his sea journey with Tanis. As the chariot descended to the ground, he finally said, “If Tanis had survived and come back, and had been willing to stay…well, I know it never ends well, a mortal woman and a man of my kind, but I think I would have tried all the same. I was quite fond of her. I thought you…she…should know.”
Perhaps it was only the jolt of the chariot landing that made Persephone lean against him. But she answered, “She would have been pleased. She felt the same about you.”
Hades eased the ghost horses to a stop, and climbed out to tie the reins to a tree.
When he lifted Persephone down from the chariot, she lingered with her hands on his shoulders. They gazed at each other. “You know, she has come back to you,” Persephone said.
“I’m glad of it.” But he could never ruin Persephone’s life. So he let go of her and looked away, chuckling as if the whole thing were amusing. “I was much younger then, of course. More foolish.”
“Are you truly fifty-three now,” she challenged, in the playful tone he already knew well, “or are you the sum of all the years you’ve lived in all your lives, since you can remember them all and benefit from their wisdom?”
“If the latter is the case, then I’m quite ancient indeed.”
“And in that case so am I.”
Yes, he thought. But still mortal. With great effort, he smiled calmly at her as if romance had never entered his thoughts, and pulled her back into the living world where she belonged.
When he returned to his chariot alone a short time later, he leaned against it with a gust of a sigh, thinking, Just what I need. To be in love at last, and for it to be someone I cannot be with.
PERSEPHONE KEPT VISITING Hades, trying to learn about plants and languages rather than dwelling on the charms of her immortal friend. The botanical experimentation continued, Persephone bringing down saplings and seeds to grow in the cave’s magical soil, to see what resulted. Hades tested the flowers and fruits himself before letting her near them. If they caused his tongue or skin any burning sensation, the plant was relegated to non-edible status, and they looked for other uses for it. If they didn’t harm him, Persephone placed a small amount on her skin as a first test, then held some in her mouth if that went well, then swallowed a tiny amount if no ill effects occurred.
The testing worked on the whole: she only got sick from the plants a couple of times, and one time was at least interesting. Along with developing a fever, she saw the world in far brighter than usual colors while lying dizzy on the ground. Hades, however, was deeply alarmed by her illness, and didn’t let her eat any new Underworld plants for nearly a month after that.
One variety of olive made her able to command dogs by using yips and growls she suddenly knew by instinct—which made both Hades and her laugh helplessly. The ability wore off after a day, though.
Some of the fruits seemed to speed healing, but not to the cure-all levels she dreamed of discovering.
And what if she found a plant that would let a mortal woman safely carry a child to term when the father was immortal? Well, that would be hardest and most dangerous to test, but she could dream. She kept raising new plants, never giving up hope.
Plants did grow faster than usual in the Underworld, but months or more still elapsed before most of them were mature enough to bear fruit. So while Persephone and Hades waited for the orchard to produce its next marvel, they spoke to the souls, using the answers and their own memories to expand another of their projects: mapping the world.
Choosing a large, mostly-flat wall of light brown limestone in the cave, Persephone painted the shape of Greece and the surrounding Mediterranean as they knew it, in dark blue paint that dried purple. The sea was as long as her arm, its southern edge at the height of her waist. “Up here, the north countries.” She dabbed in a swath of land for the mountains and the cold plains. “Off east, the Himalayas, and India and Asia somewhere beyond that. To the south, we know, is Africa…but how far does the land go?”
“Quite some way, to judge from what the souls have said. I remember living down there and making the journey as a soul myself, but I’m not sure where I was.” Hades circled his palm toward the southeastern side. “Pretty sure there’s another sea here. Hotter and sunnier.”
“What I want to know is what’s beyond this sea.” Persephone sketched in the strait that led from the Mediterranean out to the great western ocean, and let the waters trail away in a few vague waves of blue paint. “Some of the souls speak of flying all night across it when they come here. But then, some say they come west across such an ocean, and that’s what I don’t understand.”
“Yes. Souls like these people.” Hades gestured to a small group of souls watching them curiously, men and women with straight black hair, brown skin, and clothing made of animal skins that didn’t quite match any animal they had seen in the Mediterranean region. “It seems obvious,” he added, “that the living world is bigger by far than we’ve all guessed.”
“Agreed.” Persephone studied the map. “Some of the lands I’m remembering from past lives, well, they’re like nothing I’ve seen or imagined before. But they’re out there somewhere.”
“Hermes took one of the horses last month and flew west as far as he dared, but even he lost his nerve after seeing nothing but ocean for so long. He turned around and let the horse take him home.”
Persephone slid the brush back into the jar of paint. “Then let’s try it ourselves.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Oh, come on, we have to get out of the cave sometimes. And you’re a much safer horseman than Hermes.”
He fidgeted, glowering at the map. “We can try going some of these places. But not all the way across the great ocean.”
Persephone beamed, for in truth she had got what she wanted: to travel with him, even if only for day trips.
As that first winter turned to spring, and then into summer, they took their secret chariot journeys—south across the sea to the hot sands of Africa, east to the feet of the giant cold mountains, north over dark forests to the seashore where white cliffs rose on the island opposite them. They risked switching into the human realm on most visits, and sometimes even got lucky and found they spoke the local language, or some older version of it, thanks to their past lives. Touching those exotic trees and stones, walking among people who viewed Hades and her as astonishingly outlandish in their lightweight Greek tunics and fine Underworld jewels, and breathing the spices and smokes of other lands—it all enchanted Persephone. Only her first visit to the Underworld rivaled the thrill she felt at setting foot in faraway countries.
Best of all was being with Hades. She held his arm to ease the stress on her weak leg as they walked, and cuddled in his protective embrace as he flew the horses high up to mountaintops, the evening star sparkling and the world spr
ead out like a perfect map below them.
Demeter knew nothing of their visiting other countries, but Persephone’s growing preoccupation didn’t escape her notice.
Persephone felt no surprise, only a dismayed sense of inevitability, when her mother brought up the topic again, shortly after Persephone had returned from an outing with him.
“I sensed you northward today,” Demeter said, in the middle of their quiet dinner. “I thought you were with Hades. Where were you?”
“Oh. I was with him. We were on an errand. Visiting another village a soul had mentioned.” They did such things sometimes, delivering important messages from the departed, but in this case it was a lie: she had been much farther north with him, several countries away.
“Are you in love with him?” Demeter asked.
Persephone dipped her flat bread into the stew. “Goodness, Mother. That’s abrupt.”
“Well, are you? You have that look about you lately. And naturally I worry.”
“I…don’t know.” When she glanced up to find Demeter looking as stricken as if she had just announced she was pregnant by Hades, Persephone added, “I know it’s unwise and there’s no possible future in it.”
“Then why do you continue seeing him?”
“I’ve told you. It’s a fascinating place. I enjoy what I’m learning and I have many projects there.”
“Does he love you? Has he tried anything?”
“He’s said and done nothing.” Unless you counted certain gazes and compliments, and the lingering way he had taken to holding her lately when given the chance…but even Persephone wasn’t sure she could count those.
“My dear, perhaps it would be better to seek new interests, if—”
“Mother, I don’t want to talk about it.”
It was only another day, however, before Demeter confronted her again, and that time Persephone liked the conversation even less.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
HADES LOOKED UP FROM REPAIRING the raft at the underground river to find Aphrodite strolling toward him, her slim white tunic nearly glowing in the dim cave, her pretty face making an expression of amused dismay. “Gracious, it’s dark in here.”
He stood up, smoothing his cloak. “Aphrodite. What brings you down to this world?”
Smiling, she stroked his cheek. “Wish I could say it was my insatiable needs, but in truth I’m on an errand. Demeter’s waiting for you outside the cave.”
That surprised him even more. “Oh. Why?”
Aphrodite shrugged. “She wished to speak to you, but didn’t have the nerve to come down here. So she brought me.”
Already he began to suspect something was wrong—something to do with Persephone. “I’ll go right up.”
Aphrodite walked with him to the entrance chamber, and remounted the spirit horse she had ridden down there. Hades climbed onto one he kept saddled, and they both flew up into the summer sun. Demeter waited there, seated several paces off on a boulder, her head turned toward the sea.
“I’ve done my part,” Aphrodite said, and sent an approving glance up and down him. “Come visit me more often, won’t you?”
He felt a small thrill of flattery, and guilt along with it—as if it were a betrayal of Persephone to admire Aphrodite. He did give the goddess of love a smile, but, too unsettled about Demeter’s errand, he only waved goodbye in response and watched Aphrodite fly off. After tying up his ghost horse to a tree, he approached Demeter on foot.
“Demeter,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
She turned, and rose. “Hades.” The sea wind stirred her hair, bringing out the gold in its dark depths. “Thank you for coming up to see me.”
“Won’t you come down to the cave? I promise it’s perfectly safe, and I know you’ve never seen it.” He invited her mainly as the duty of a gracious host, but also as a challenge, to see if Demeter could be as brave and inquisitive as her daughter.
She put that question to rest at once. “No. I’d rather not, thank you. The reason I came…” She laced her fingers together at her waist. “It’s a bit awkward. Persephone’s a grown woman, of course, but she hasn’t had much experience in the way of suitors, and less still with immortal men.”
Defensive statements readied themselves on Hades’ tongue, but he held them in reserve, letting her speak.
“Lately she’s sensed that you may be attracted to her,” Demeter continued. “And it makes her uncomfortable.”
Hades’ heart plummeted. Still saying nothing, he let his gaze slip past her, unfocused, to rest on the blue of the sea.
“She likes you very much,” Demeter went on. “As a tutor. And she feels she may have accidentally given you the wrong signals, for which she’s rather embarrassed, and therefore allowed me to come speak to you instead of trying to explain it herself.” Here she paused, as if inviting him to respond.
Twisting his tongue in his dry mouth, he attempted an answer. “I had no idea she felt this way, or rather, no idea that I was making her feel…I promise, I haven’t attempted anything.”
“I know. She assures me of that. Still, for a long time I thought she wouldn’t marry, and now she does seem to be thinking of it, and…Hades, we both know—we all know—it isn’t possible, a mortal woman with a god.”
He gazed at the endless waves. “Indeed. I would never wish to harm her.” That, at least, he could say with fluency, as it was true.
“So, although she’s enjoyed the Underworld very much and may still wish to visit on the rare occasion, we’ve agreed her regular lessons with you should come to an end.”
He hadn’t thought it possible for his heart to sink further, but it did. “If she wishes.”
“She does. It’s for the best.” Demeter sounded apologetic.
“All right.”
She turned briskly toward her white spirit horse, reined to a pine branch. “Thank you for understanding. I’m sure we’ll see you again at a gathering before long.”
“Goodbye. And…do apologize to Persephone for me. For everything.”
She climbed astride the horse. “I will. Goodbye, Hades.”
She sped away. The souls kept streaming into the Underworld, barely visible in the bright light of day.
He didn’t wish to hurt Persephone. It was for the best. All this was true. Nevertheless, he stormed to the top of the cliff, and for the rest of the afternoon hurled boulders into the sea until even his immortal muscles ached in defeat.
“MY DEAR, I happened to speak to Hades today,” Demeter told Persephone, as they rinsed the clay plates and pots after dinner, in the back garden’s water basin.
“Oh? How did that come about?”
Demeter peeled a wet scrap of grape leaf off a plate and flicked it into the garden. “I was visiting Aphrodite, and she had some errand to see him, so I went along. I assume she wished to arrange a personal visit from him. They do such things from time to time, I’ve heard.”
Hearing that was like getting nicked with one of the knives she was rinsing. Persephone had heard such gossip too, but had wished to disbelieve it. Not that she could deny Hades such visits, considering Persephone and other mortal women were an unsafe prospect. If anything, it was honorable of him not to look to mortals.
It still hurt. Persephone merely said, “Ah,” set aside the knife, and picked up the next.
“It would seem, darling,” continued Demeter, “that he suspects you fancy him. And flattered though he is, he wishes me to tell you that he must turn you down.”
Now it was more like getting stabbed outright. Wiping grease off the latest knife, Persephone answered, “Oh my. That’s dreadfully embarrassing. I promise, I haven’t thrown myself at him, or anything of the kind. I don’t know why he said that.”
“Men aren’t always as dense as we think. They do sense attraction, especially men who’ve been alive several decades and have figured a few things out. And, my dear, I’m afraid he isn’t interested.”
But surely he is, he must be, Persephone
wanted to wail. However, mistaking uncle-ish affection for love, in her wishful naïveté, was entirely possible. Setting the knife onto the drying cloth, she dragged a pot toward herself. “That’s fine,” she said, her voice as light as she could make it. “What future could we have had anyway?”
“Exactly. So he’s suggested you cease your regular lessons in the Underworld, and take up something new, among the rest of us. Just to get your mind off this awkwardness. You could still visit him from time to time, naturally.”
A knot of grief and humiliation swelled in Persephone’s chest. She kept speaking casually, though it became difficult. “All right. I’d like to see how my plants are coming along in the Underworld, but only once in a while, as you say.”
“As for what you might do up here, I have an idea.” Demeter dried her hands on the cloth draped over her shoulder. “Aphrodite would love to share some of her knowledge with you. Regular meetings with her could be very interesting indeed.”
“Yes, that they would be.” Persephone turned aside, drying her own hands, wondering if she could possibly face Aphrodite without withering in miserable envy.
“I realize you already know such things from your past-life memories,” said Demeter, “but even so, there are plenty of arts only she could teach you. And who knows? Among her acquaintances you might well find a mortal lad you fancied.”
The cure for one crush was another, was what Persephone supposed this idea encapsulated. But almost at once, a different possibility dawned on her, and fortified her spirits.
If anyone could help Persephone in her current predicament, it was Aphrodite. The goddess of love needn’t be a rival, and likely wasn’t. Aphrodite put no exclusive claims on any man. And as Demeter had obliviously stated, there were pieces of knowledge only Aphrodite could supply. If Persephone could learn those…well, it left her a morsel of hope, at least.
Persephone's Orchard (The Chrysomelia Stories) Page 22