“What the—”
I glanced over my shoulder with wide eyes, only to find Morpheus smiling back at me. His silver hair rippled over his shoulders as he leaned forward, holding the side of the boat with his hand.
“Where are you going?”
I was tempted to splash water into his face and demand to let me—and the boat—go, but the amusement reflected in his eyes stopped me short of chastising him. He seemed to be in a much friendlier mood than earlier.
“To the grove,” I replied with a sigh. “Can you let go now?”
Morpheus raised his brow and tightened his grip on the side.
“Please?” I tried again.
“You’re a stubborn thing, aren’t you?” When I didn’t respond, he laughed. “Would you mind if I came along?”
“Why?” I asked. “Darce didn’t send you, did he?”
“Darce, hmm?” Morpheus said, pursing his lips as he stepped into the vessel. “So informal with the Lord of the Underworld.
“I’m not going to go around calling him ‘my Lord.’ That’s too…” Weird.
I wasn’t sure I had fully accepted him as a God, despite being submerged into this strange world. Maybe that was the human side of me, the part that had to question reality despite the evidence. Kind of like ‘the earth is flat’ versus ‘the earth is round’ debate. To call him anything other than Darce would mean I’d accepted this as truth—as fact.
“Too?” Morpheus asked as he held out his hand for the oar.
“You don’t expect me to call you ‘my Lord’ too, do you?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Morpheus said as he smiled. “Just call me by my name.”
He slipped into the seat across from me and slid the oar into the water, giving us a push out into the river. His wings opened slightly, and they began a gentle rhythm, helping to move the boat against the current.
“Why do you have wings, but the others don’t?” I asked, shoving my hands into my sweater pockets.
“A bit invasive, don’t you think?” He replied, raising a brow.
“I’m a curious human, remember?” I said, recalling Arae’s description of me. Morpheus didn’t miss a beat. His smile deepened, and it was much sincerer.
“I’m guessing that humans aren’t well liked,” I added as I tilted my head curiously, “But I wonder why? If you’re all so quick to mock them, why rule over them?”
“Do you think we had a choice over who we rule?” Morpheus asked. “The Titans once ruled over the world, until Zeus, Hera, Poseidon and Hades, among several other of their brothers and sisters fought against them, eventually imprisoning them forever.”
Morpheus paused in his rowing as he watched me.
“Zeus and his brothers were only given a choice in where they would rule.”
“And Darce chose the Underworld?”
His expression was thoughtful as he pondered how to respond. “Zeus, Poseidon and...Darce all drew their lots randomly. Zeus received the sky, Poseidon, the sea. And Darce received this domain.”
“And he likes it here?”
“As I said,” Morpheus replied, “What makes you think we’ve had a choice in our own fates? Whether he likes it or not, Darce is the Lord of the Underworld.”
“And you? Do you have a choice in being here? Can’t you go to where the rest of the Gods live?”
“Mount Olympus?” He asked and chuckled. “I could go if I wished it. But I don’t.”
“Why not?”
Morpheus leaned in closer to me and lifted his finger to my temple. I braced myself. The last time he had done this, he had me spiraling from his imaginary kiss. The boat and the river disappeared into an array of fluffy, colorful clouds. And rising from them, white ivory gates, leading towards a large white temple. It reminded me of Versailles, gilded with gold, brick and wrought iron. And off in the distance, a rally of people were dancing and drinking. I could hear the faint hints of a flute playing a melody with traces of laughter interwoven.
“Do you see?” Morpheus asked softly. "It makes a lovely first impression, but—" and then the scene transformed very suddenly to something darker, "—there is more than meets the eye."
Further into the party, I could see how their faces twisted, like the shadows I had seen all of my life. Their laughter was forced, the intimacy was suffocating and overbearing. I felt...uncomfortable. Out of place, even. I wondered if that's how Persephone felt, if I was somehow channeling her.
Then the scene disappeared, bringing me back to the cavern, the lake, and the boat. Darkness. Silence.
“As you can see, I prefer the comforts the Underworld provides me.” With that, Morpheus picked the oar back up and began to move us through the water swiftly. I knew I was staring, but I couldn’t help it. His vision only fueled my curiosity.
“I’m struggling with understanding why I’m here,” I admitted softly as I turned my gaze to the approaching island. Darce had been right—it was much closer than it seemed.
“My Lord brought you here,” Morpheus responded matter-of-factly.
“Yes, I know, but...why?”
Morpheus didn’t respond. Instead, he pushed the vessel harder through the water, until the bottom of the boat slid onto the wet sand of the shore. I rose to my feet, taking in the sight of the vast forest. It was strange for a grove to be growing in the middle of a darkened cavern, wasn’t it? How did it receive the nourishment only sunshine was able to provide?
As I drew my curious gaze back to Morpheus, he too, rose to his feet and gestured towards the sand.
“How is this possible?” I asked as I clamored out of the boat.
“The grove?”
“Yes, the trees...everything... There’s no sunlight. There’s—”
“Things can grow and flourish, even in the darkness. They adapt. They change.”
Sure. Whatever. But I doubted Bill Nye, the Science Guy would agree. I crossed my arms against my chest, sucking in a breath and began to walk into the gathering of trees. Why had Darce wanted me to come here anyway? It was beautiful—yes, but so was much of his palace of hallways.
“This was her place,” Morpheus said softly, answering my unspoken question. “She would come here with Darce for days. She preferred the comforts of the trees...the nature. So Darce gifted her this piece of land.”
“Her?” I asked, turning around on my heel. “Do you mean Persephone?”
“Who else would I be talking about?”
I bit my bottom lip and shrugged carelessly. “I don’t see what it has to do with me.”
“You said you’re struggling with understanding why you’re here,” Morpheus gestured unceremoniously towards the trees, “Shouldn’t this make it obvious to you?”
“Do you really think I’m the reincarnation of a Greek Goddess? I mean...come on, look at me.” I tugged at my oversized sweater and wrinkled my nose. He chuckled and took a step towards me. Lifting his hand, he brushed a strand of hair away from my eyes.
“And what would a reincarnation of a Greek Goddess look like?” He asked, tilting his head curiously. I could see the amusement in his dark gaze; the corner of his lips curled into a smirk.
“A supermodel. Perfect hair, breasts, body... Naomi Campbell. Kate Moss. Someone who is super beautiful, and super... not me.”
“You’re beautiful.”
I felt my breath catch in my throat. Too many compliments were being thrown around lately. I certainly wasn’t used to the attention, especially when it was coming from two different gods. Attractive gods. Taking a step back, I nervously tucked my hair behind my ear and shook my head.
“You doubt me?” He asked, chuckling with amusement.
“I’m not beautiful,” I mumbled under my breath. “In your dreams.”
“I could show you,” he taunted, gently slipping his hand underneath my elbow. I shot him a dangerous look.
“I think you already showed me enough,” I retorted, pulling my elbow away from his grasp. His smile remained as he stare
d at me darkly.
“Did it not please you?”
He meant the kiss. The dream kiss shared between me and the not-so-real vision of Darce. My cheeks warmed as I glared at him.
“No, not at all.” I shot back. “It didn’t please me.”
Morpheus released a sort of chuckle as he crossed his arms against his chest.
“Perhaps it was the wrong man, then? I could easily give it a go again.” The soft promise in his voice sent my heart beating faster than before. What was wrong with me?
“I don’t even know you,” I blurted, shaking my head. “Argh! Why am I here?!” A fire-hot rage filled me and took me by surprise. I wanted to cry. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be with my parents. I wanted to see my dad like Darce promised.
“I’m not interested in you or...anyone for that matter. My name is Summer Mavros. I’m not Persephone. I’m not—” But before I could finish, I could feel warm tears rolling down my cheeks. A sob erupted from my throat and I turned away. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to count to ten. Calm down, Summer. Everything is going to be okay. Everything...
I felt a warm hand on my shoulder and Morpheus whisper, “I’m sorry.” His fingers curled, drawing me to turn back around. As his gaze met mine, I could see the sincerity lingering there.
“How rude of me to not see the depth of your pain and confusion,” Morpheus continued. “The loss of your parents must be profound. Your life in the human realm... gone. I didn’t mean to tease you so, and cause you such distress.”
“Is that what you do? Give mourning women random dreams of kissing?” I asked, wiping my nose on the sleeve of my sweater.
“Only to the ones who don’t look like supermodels,” he teased, a small smile growing on his lips.
He was charming. Too charming for his own good. I could feel my cheeks warm and I took a step back. With a few bottles of wine, I would have given into his charms without any hesitations. Darce be damned.
“What Darce wants you to see is deep in the grove,” Morpheus said softly, lifting his hand towards the greenery behind me. I gave a silent nod and turned in the direction of where he was pointing. Beneath my white Keds, the grass was a vivid green, as were the leaves on the gathering trees. A ceiling of cavern stalactites hung overhead, glowing in a soft hue of blue and teal.
And just within view, I could make out a round, stone fixture. Columns wrapped around the building, holding up a domed roof. Glass windows encircled the dome—giving it a majestic, old appearance. It looked as though it came right out of a Jane Austen movie.
“What is that?” I asked, quickening my pace to get a better look. A dirt path opened from the green grass, leading up to the side of the structure.
“This is where Darce and Persephone came to get away,” Morpheus paused for effect, “A lover’s getaway.”
I grimaced, mentally vomiting. Of course Darce would want to take me to his love nest. Barf. What a pervert.
“Really?” I tried not to snort. “They rowed across a river for ten feet of privacy ?”
Morpheus snickered, his wings fluttering behind him.
“It was the one place where no one would disturb them. Every time Persephone returned to the Underworld, he would take her here. And right before she was due back to her mother, they would retreat to their hideaway.”
I wrinkled my nose at the thought. I knew exactly what they did while they were here. But the image of Darce without his shirt...or pants...made my stomach knot. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling; in fact I couldn’t get the image out of my mind. I just couldn’t bring myself to go inside. It felt like I was invading their privacy...our privacy, in a way.
“Minthe plans to make it her new retreat with him once she becomes his new Queen,” he added.
The mere mention of Minthe reminded me that I should be jealous, and I was absolutely green. I turned hard on my heel to face him.
“What?!” New Queen? I think not.
He nodded and sighed. “I know. My Lord isn’t too thrilled about the notion either.”
“Who is Minthe anyway?” I asked, pushing my hands to my hips. “What is she the goddess of?”
“Goddess?” He scoffed, as if it was the most absurd thing he had heard. “No, not a goddess. She’s more like Arae. A spirit. A river nymph who ‘fell in love’ with Hades, and has forgotten her place.”
“Why hasn’t Darce done anything to stop Minthe?”
“Boredom, I suppose,” Morpheus replied. “Just as every male craves a warm bed, so did my Lord. Minthe offered him something that he was lacking over the centuries.”
“So they’re sleeping together?” I asked, cringing as the words left my lips.
Morpheus hesitated as he slid a hand through his silver hair. “I wouldn’t call it...sleeping.”
“I know that,” I huffed. “It’s a figure of speech.”
“Let’s just say that I have it under the best authority that Minthe is trying to break the bond that ties him to Persephone. And once that bond is broken—” He stopped and sighed, “—I’ve already said too much. The most I can say is this: Minthe is not good nor is she bad—but she doesn’t help our current predicament. Which is bringing Persephone home to him.”
“And what does my being here do to her plans?” I asked as I peered back at the stone structure. If all that he said was true, then Minthe had to know why I was here. She knew Darce’s true motivations in bringing me to the Underworld. I was a symbol of the hope he hadn’t lost.
“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see what Minthe has up her sleeve,” Morpheus replied. “The best you can do is be prepared.”
“Prepared?”
He nodded slowly. “If you want to help him, you’ll have to trust him. You’ll have to trust that he sees something more than…just Summer Mavros.”
1920
Brooklyn, NY
Persephone had not shown herself in years, not since Italy. Hades had almost given up hope that he would see her again. It wasn't until he found himself overseas, in America, did he stumble across her by chance. He had long decided that if he was going to pretend to be human, he would live like them and learn from them. It was a distraction from the monotony of grief he had grown accustomed to. The nightlife of the ‘20s was vivacious enough to keep his spirits lively. He fell into jazz, making use of his hands to play several piano solos. He wrote songs sometimes, that most always had something to do with her, or were for her. When the night ended though, he was always back to a mood he couldn't quit.
Then, like a wish, she came through the doors of a speakeasy where he was playing.
Hades watched her as she came into the speakeasy saloon. She arrived with a bustle of girls, shimmering in their long beads and flapper flare. Their hair was perfectly pinned, their lips glistening red from rouge and the smoky charcoal outlining their eyes gave them all a dangerous edge. From afar, she appeared ordinary—like everyone else. Her brunette hair was styled with a slight curl, and her face was powdered with the same beauty products. But as her blue gaze met his, Hades knew. In every life she was someone new, but Persephone had an incomparable aura. He had seen it enough to recognize her by now, just by looking.
Her spirit, the ephemeral aura surrounding the girl, was like a halo of pure light.
He had known her true identity the first time he had met her; the first time she had come into the bar wearing a large rock on her finger. An engagement. And the man who had been beside her—a mere boy. A puppet planted by her mother, no doubt. He had bought her a drink then, in celebration of her future nuptials.
But she would never belong to anyone but him. No matter who her mother tried to fix her with.
He slid his fingers over the piano keys, creating a soft melody that filled the space around them. It was the same song that he played for her the first night. The same song that had once played in a far-off ballroom, in a distant time in the middle of Venice.
And just as he had predicted, those eyes found him again; and commanded his atte
ntion.
She had come up to his piano, those perfectly shaped hips swaying to the tune of his song, and slipped a small piece of paper into his hand. It did not escape his notice that the ring on her finger was gone.
Under a dimly lit street lamp, she waited for him, wrapped in a blue, wool coat as snow began to fall all around them.
“I thought you’d never come,” she said, a small shy smile growing on her lips. “Betsy dared me to...and I... I apologize. I must seem crazy to you. You don’t even know me, and I don’t know you.” Her cheeks grew a soft hue of pink as she darted her blue gaze up to his. “I don’t want you to get the wrong impression of me.”
A warmth filled his chest as he watched her. “Wrong impression?”
“I don’t normally do this,” she said matter-of-factly. Of course she didn’t. Hades chuckled as she tugged her coat more tightly around herself.
“Ever since my engagement—I mean—What I’m trying to say is... Betsy…”
“Betsy is your friend?”
By the wrinkle on her brow, Hades could already predict her answer. But she remained silent.
“I’d be glad to walk you home, miss…” he offered. “Miss?”
“Winnie. My friends call me Winnie.”
“Tony,” he replied. They walked silently together as Hades darted his gaze from her to the sky, and then back to her quiet, walking form.
“My mother will be furious with me,” she said softly under her breath.
“For bringing a strange man to the house?” He teased. “Look, Win, I won’t come to the door.”
He’d stay far away from her mother. He wasn’t ready to face her—not after their last interaction in Venice, Italy. Centuries might have passed, but he was sure she hadn’t forgotten. Murderer.
“I can’t believe I listened to Betsy,” she murmured and slid a gloved hand through her brunette curls.
Hades paused in his step and turned to look at her with an arched brow.
“What did Betsy say?”
“She said you had your eye on me ever since I walked in,” she turned her face into the fur collar of her coat. He couldn’t help but find that adorable. Despite all the time, all the past lives, she was still pure and innocent.
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