He let go of her and waved his arm toward the fields of souls. “You know the language. Give it a try, Persephone.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
OKAY, SO, NOT A LOT,” Sophie said as they returned to the river’s raft a couple of hours later.
“Yeah.” Adrian unwound the ropes. “Quentin and Wilkes and the others were weirdos in their youth and unpleasant later on, but nothing technically illegal. At least, not that anyone’s thought of. God, I wish I had evidence linking them to Sanjay.”
“I assume he keeps asking around on his own behalf, since he’s always down here.”
“He does, but so far he can’t find proof we can use either.” They settled onto their knees on the raft, with Kiri alongside them, and Adrian steered them across the river. “What now?”
Sophie sighed. “I’m hungry. Maybe food will cheer me up.”
“Dinner in Greece, then?”
Her mood surged upward. In this lifetime, she’d never been to Europe at all, on the living side. Seizing his wrist, she said, “Ooh, yes, yes, yes.”
THEY SWITCHED REALMS, entered a nearby town, and enjoyed a late dinner at a small restaurant. Neither of them knew modern Greek from any of their past lives, but Adrian had picked up enough from hanging around the region that he could communicate with their waitress, and both Adrian and Sophie knowing Ancient Greek—or something like it—did help a little.
Their table was outdoors on a deck, under a string of lights cased in white paper globes. The sea shimmered and whispered at the edge of town. A street musician played an accordion somewhere nearby. Sophie drank it all in, mesmerized. Meanwhile, Adrian gazed at her in adoration: the shine of the globe lights in her eyes, the way she wrapped her pita around the olives and feta to form a little package to bite into, how she teased him for taking apart his own food into its component pieces before eating it, the silken shadows of her neck and cleavage.
“Think they’d be honored to know they’ve got Hades and Persephone in their restaurant?” she asked after the waitress removed their plates. “Or scared?”
“Possibly neither. Greece has gone almost totally Christian—Greek Orthodox, you know. They don’t care about us old-school types anymore.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I bet they still consider us family.” She smiled out at the sea. “It feels familiar to me, to be here. The way that wind smells…mmm.”
Upon returning to the Underworld, Sophie yawned and leaned against him. “I know it couldn’t be that late in my own time zone, but I’m super sleepy. Must be the ouzo.”
“At least it does something to you. I think I’d have to inject pure grain alcohol into my veins to feel anything nowadays, and even then it’d only last a few minutes.”
“But you and the other immortals were always drinking wine, back in the day.”
He shrugged. “It was the thing to drink at the time. If you could afford it.”
“Which of course you could.” She yawned again. “Okay if I take a nap?”
“Sure. I’ll make up the bed for you.”
In the bedchamber, in the light of a fluorescent camping lantern, he unzipped the duffel bag in which he kept sheets and blankets, and spread them over the mattress.
Sophie looked up at the gauzy black canopy he’d draped atop the four posts. “You had a canopy in the old days, too. Different material. And white back then.”
“Yeah. Keeps pebbles and things from landing on you. And the shop did have white, but I figured black would look better down here. In the old days, black cloth was practically impossible to get, otherwise I’d probably have used it.”
“Pink might be nice,” Sophie mused. When Adrian shot a glance at her, she grinned. “Totally kidding.”
He exhaled in relief, placing a hand over his heart. “Thank God.”
She sat on the mattress and toed off her shoes. “Goddess,” she corrected through a yawn.
“Indeed.” He shook open a comforter and settled it over her legs.
She pulled it over herself, lying back on the pillow. “You going to sleep too?”
“Not yet. I’ll read a while.”
He sat beside her with the lantern, the extra pillow stuffed behind his back, and opened a novel. Within minutes, Sophie was asleep, breathing steadily. He brushed his fingers against her warm hair, as lightly as possible. In the old tongue they used to speak, he whispered, “Sweetest of dreams, darling.”
THE MORNING AFTER feeding Kerberos the blue-colored orange, Hades awoke to the dog planting his front paws upon his chest and licking his face. Hades grunted, pushed him aside, and sat up. “So you’re feeling better.”
He squinted at Kerberos in the dim light of the two ghost dogs he had leashed to a metal ring on the wall. In the perpetual darkness of the cave, they served not only as company for Kerberos, but as night lighting. They were also cleaner and more convenient than oil lamps or flames in the fireplace. (His bedchamber did have a hearth, with a narrow but sufficient vent up to the outdoor air.)
Standing on the goatskin mattress with tail wagging, Kerberos gazed at Hades, panting, looking very much like he was grinning.
Hades examined the dog’s neck, but couldn’t even find the wound. The fur grew smooth all around his throat, and the skin looked healthy when Hades pushed aside the tan hairs to search through them. “Interesting. Let’s remember that blue orange. Looks like a keeper.”
As Kerberos ran around beside him the rest of the day, Hades noticed the dog was moving faster than ever, and no longer limped. In addition, the gray hairs that had sprinkled his muzzle when Hades found him were now replaced by dark brown ones. Could that little orange tree restore youth as well as health? Excited, he turned and began striding toward the cave’s entrance, intending to find Persephone and tell her. But upon remembering she was planning to marry Adonis in a few days’ time, he stopped and remained in the Underworld. The news could wait a while. Best to see how Kerberos fared, and perhaps find willing test subjects another time.
Later, in his bedchamber, he picked up the half-peeled fruit from where he had left it wrapped in a cloth, and ate another slice himself. Cure-all though it may have been, it did nothing, as far as he could tell, to ease an aching heart.
An earthquake struck on the morning of the spring equinox. The shaking and rumbling awakened him. Clumps of dirt and rock from the cave’s ceiling fell and clattered on the floor. Kerberos leaped barking onto the bed. Hades latched his arm around the dog and scrambled backward with him until they met the wall, where they waited, breathing fast, as the earth thundered and jolted around them. Then, finally, the quake died away.
With Kerberos beside him, Hades seized the willow leashes of the ghost dogs to light his way, and rushed out of the bedchamber. He paused a moment to look across the river and make sure the souls in the fields were all right. They were. They apparently couldn’t have cared less about trivialities like earthquakes. That accomplished, he commanded Kerberos to stay in the Underworld, then ran to his chariot and soared out into the sunlight.
He had to know if Persephone was safe. That was his central burning thought as he sped the horses toward her village. Damn his pride and idiocy. Hermes was right: Hades and Persephone only had a limited number of years they could be together before age took her away, and Hades wanted her with him for as many of those years as she could spare. If she was still alive, not killed beneath a collapsed stone roof or chimney, he would tell her he loved her, even if she turned him down. Silence on the matter was no longer an option.
And if she was in fact dead? Fear and grief gripped his throat.
Then he’d still tell her. In the Underworld, where her soul would be. She could be there now. Perhaps she would even consent to stay there and keep him company a while before being reborn…
He landed near the site of Demeter and Persephone’s house and switched realms. Their house stood intact, a scattered pile of firewood being the only sign of the earthquake. But it was silent, no one inside. Glancing at the sun
, he found the morning farther advanced than he had realized. The earth rumbled again, gently, sending a quiet aftershock across the fields. He ran faster to the village, where he was grateful to note minimal damage and injuries. Catching the attention of an old woman walking by, he inquired after the lovely local goddess and her daughter.
“They’re off to the festival, like all the young folk,” she told him with a salacious chuckle. “Saw them heading out after the quake, looking fine indeed.”
He nearly melted with relief. He thanked her, tugging a ruby off his cloak’s hem and placing it in her palm, then dashed off again. He wheeled the horses back toward the Underworld.
He’d still tell Persephone he loved her. Absolutely, no question. But this was the spring equinox. The least he could do was bathe and put on fresh clothes first. An armful of her favorite flowers from the Underworld wouldn’t hurt, either.
PERSEPHONE WAS FRANTIC. She moved across the sunny meadow as fast as her limp allowed, her hair and gown adorned with flowers, her hands picking blossoms from the grass and thrusting them into her basket. On her red cloak she could smell the incense from the morning’s opening ceremony, after which the priestess—with the special sanction of Aphrodite, beside her—had set the youths free. The day was meant to be dedicated to people chasing each other, letting themselves get caught by those they liked, securing marriage vows, or just fooling around together. A bonfire and feast would follow tonight in the clearing near the village, with amorous activity continuing out in the dark forests and fields. It was the most felicitous and raucous celebration of the year, and this was the first time Persephone had chosen to participate. But she couldn’t bend her mind to any feeling except panic.
She had split off from the group and angled across this meadow in the hopes of finding Hermes or Aphrodite or some other immortal. She needed someone to take her to the Underworld to make sure Hades was all right. If the earthquake had caved in the tunnels, and the whole hill of rock had fallen upon him—good Goddess, even an immortal couldn’t move that mass. He could be pinned there in agony, and who knew how long before anyone could get him out?
She hadn’t dared even mention Hades to Demeter, let alone ask her to go there. Her mother had checked the house for damage, declared it sound, and shooed Persephone off to the festival to enjoy herself. Meanwhile, Demeter set off to visit the nearby villages to see if anyone needed a broken bone set or a wall re-erected.
Persephone suspected herself of overreacting. Earthquakes carried a strong terror for her, given her childhood injuries. But the Underworld surely was protected by its magic and could never be damaged, not even by a big earthquake, which this had not been, compared to the one from her childhood. Even so, she would not rest easy until she knew he was safe.
No. She couldn’t rest then either. It was time to be honest. What the rumbling of the ground this morning had told her was plain: her greatest fear was losing Hades. If Adonis were killed, she would be sad, but not agonized like this. She didn’t love Adonis. She loved Hades, and one way or another, she would tell him.
Her peace with Demeter, the comfort of aging with one’s mate, the possibility of bearing her own children—she was willing to throw all that away for the Underworld and its quiet king. Goddess forgive her.
She reached the edge of the meadow, where a forest of oaks and olives took over. A red violet caught her eye, already plucked and lying across the strands of grass. She picked it up and examined it, then brought it to her nose. The Underworld was the only place she’d ever seen such a flower. Nearby she spotted another one, lying plucked like the first. She gathered that too, moving closer to the trunk of a large oak. At its base lay a showy purple narcissus. She stooped and picked it up. She glanced around in confusion; then, with a sudden hopeful suspicion, she looked up into the tree.
Hades, seated high above her on a branch, grinned shyly and waved. In his hand he held a bouquet of Underworld flowers. He leaped out of the tree and landed in front of her—a fall that would have broken the ankle of a mortal man, but which he performed with catlike strength and grace.
“Hello,” he said. “I climbed the tree to look around, and when I saw you coming, I thought I’d lure you in with these.”
She laughed and took the bouquet as he offered it to her. “Thank you—oh, I’m so glad to see you.” Heedless of the flowers, she threw herself forward and hugged him. “The earthquake—I thought—if you’d been crushed under the mountain or something—never mind, it’s stupid. Of course the Underworld wouldn’t cave in, and you’re immortal, but I was worried.”
He held her, stroking her braided hair. “You were worried? Not half as worried as me. I flew straight to your house, but you were already gone and the neighbors assured me you were all right. So I came here.”
He had rushed all the way to her house to check on her? His cloak felt clean and fresh against her cheek, and the narcissus tucked into his gold crown smelled delicious. Was he spruced up for the equinox festival? For…her? She drew back to look at him, then lowered her gaze, arranging the flowers in her basket. “So you do care a bit after all?”
His face grew grave. “What did your mother tell you? I have to know.”
Her cheeks warmed with a blush, but determination carried her forward. “She said you knew I loved you, and that you were sorry but you weren’t interested. And that’s all right. But I want you to know, I—”
Hades’ angry growl cut her off. Planting hands on his hips, he scowled across the field. “Hermes was right. Gods, I’m an idiot.” He looked at her. “You do know she told me the same thing in reverse—that you weren’t interested, and wanted to stay away from me.”
Persephone stared at him. It made perfect sense. She had suspected it without wanting to believe it, but now… “Damn her!” Persephone threw down her basket. Flowers spilled across the ground. She stormed back and forth. “How could she?”
“I do see her point. There are dangers for you…”
“Damn the danger, and damn you too if you think I’m that cowardly! I’ve thought through all the problems, and found ways around most of them, and I’m willing to ignore the rest.” She stopped in front of him. “So forget those. Tell me the truth. Did you want me to go away?”
“Never,” he said softly.
Her heart pounded. “I didn’t want to leave you. Mother was right, I loved you—I still do. I’ve tried to love Adonis, but I can’t—I don’t—”
She was saved from having to explain further by Hades pulling her forward and kissing her. She twined her arms around him, and they staggered a few steps to the tree. Hades leaned back on it, lifting her off the ground. Her mind was ablaze; her body suddenly felt light and free of pains. They kissed each other’s mouths, necks, shoulders, until the kisses smoothed away all the turmoil caused by words and wasted time.
Finally he let her slide down until her feet met the ground. “I love you,” he said at last, his voice quiet and rough. “And if you marry Adonis or anyone else, they’ll start calling me the god of insane jealousy, as well as the god of the dead.”
“We must make sure that doesn’t happen.” She slid a fingertip down his nose and chin and chest. “Oh, dear, Mother will think I’m with Adonis today. Too bad.”
His eyes took on a naughty sparkle. “Poor boy. Where will he be, then? Nursing his broken heart?”
“His heart won’t break over me. We were classmates, that’s all. I’m sure he’ll be with Aphrodite if he needs any consoling. Or any of the hundred other girls who have their eye on him.”
Hades stroked her bare shoulder where her cloak had fallen back, and touched the crown of flowers in her hair. “Then why did you make yourself look so beautiful, and come to this festival?”
She flicked her fingernail against his gold crown. “Well, why did you?”
Catching her around the waist, he drew her close again. He kissed her ear and neck in a way that sent heat rushing through her. “I was going to steal you away if I had to. Don’t
you know how you’ve tortured me? Being so brilliant and gorgeous, living alongside me, then leaving me…taunting me with lessons on seduction with other men…”
Persephone took hold of his hips and pulled herself tight against them. “I didn’t want him. It was you I thought of, during all of it.” She kissed his mouth, their tongues meeting for a moment. “I only wanted to learn it for you. I thought you were beautiful when I was sixteen and saw you at Aphrodite’s.”
“Two years ago today,” he murmured. “I’ve wanted you from that same moment. Oh, how we’ve wasted our time.”
Abandoning the task of bringing her flowers back to the village to help decorate for the festival, Persephone left the overturned basket on the ground and moved deeper into the forest with Hades.
“Oaks,” he noted, glancing at the trees. “Good. Won’t be easy for the others to track us.”
The sun broke through the thin white layer of clouds and warmed the air. Persephone and Hades removed their cloaks and spread them on the ground as a blanket. There they lay, kissing and touching, speaking throughout, enraptured with the luxury of being in total honesty with each other at last.
They untied their belts and flung them out of the way, and unpinned and pulled aside each other’s clothes to give their hands more room to explore. She kicked off her sandals to run her bare feet up and down his legs. So long she had wanted this, and it lived up to every hope. Details she couldn’t have foreseen fused fantasy with reality, making the experience so sweet that tears pulsed behind her eyes at some moments. At other times her emotion overflowed into words of giggling nonsense.
His lips were softer and his beard rougher than she had imagined. He laughed and teased more than you might expect from the god of the Underworld. His mouth tasted delicious, like spring water drunk from a wooden cup. Though his immortal muscles caged the strength of a warhorse, his skin felt nearly as silken as her own, especially in intimate places. Any shyness she retained about being younger and less experienced was swept away by his obvious desire and appreciation, along with his wish to please her—at which he was quite skilled.
Persephone's Orchard (The Chrysomelia Stories) Page 30