Poison Fruit: Agent of Hel

by Jacqueline Carey

  He inclined his head. “It is, my lady.”

  “So you see,” she said brightly. “It is the ideal solution. Everyone wins!”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “That’s Hel’s territory.”

  “No.” Persephone gave me a rueful smile. “That is property owned by the City of Pemkowet. Yes, it has been occupied by your mistress for a hundred years, but the Norse Hel does not own it. I fear that is one of her more grave mistakes. Your mistress dwells in the days of yore, when her presence alone sufficed to make a parcel of land sacred and inviolable.” She shook her head, and motes of sunlight scintillated all around her. “Those of us who endure live in a different world, and to survive, we must adapt.”

  My tail lashed. “To what end?” I asked her. “Your husband Hades’s territory is in Montreal, and no god or goddess can rule over more than one demesne. So what do you want with Pemkowet?”

  Persephone looked into the distance and smiled to herself. “I want a summer home.”

  I stared at her. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.” Something subtle shifted in her expression, an ancient darkness surfacing behind her sunlit eyes. Suddenly Persephone looked nineteen going on ten thousand, and I thought about what I remembered of her story from Mr. Leary’s Myth and Lit class years ago. Hades had abducted her when she was a maiden, and for the sin of eating six pomegranate seeds in captivity, she had been condemned to spend six months of every year in the underworld with him.

  God, no wonder she was a little crazy.

  “I want a summer home,” Persephone repeated, her voice rising. The motes of sunlight surrounding her shivered and vanished with a sound like shards of crystal shattering. “A place to call my own. I have endured and endured and endured, and I want a demesne of my own!”

  Beside me, Stefan rose. “Forgive me, Daisy,” he murmured to me, his pupils swallowing his irises. “I cannot stay.”

  I couldn’t blame him for being unable to handle a goddess’s fury without ravening. “Go. I’ll call you later.”

  “Oh, dear.” Persephone watched him leave. “Well, you understand it wouldn’t be just a summer home,” she said to the hall at large. “I plan to build a resort. A very nice resort. Mr. Dufreyne, will you show them the plan?”

  “Of course, my lady.” Dufreyne swapped out the map of Pemkowet on the easel for another piece of foam board, this one with a plan depicting a prospectus for an elaborate resort named Elysian Fields. It included a twenty-story hotel with two restaurants and a nightclub, a marina, a golf course, a stable, and extensive riding trails winding through the dunes.

  If you were willing to ignore the fact that it was in violation of pretty much every zoning ordinance in existence in Pemkowet, not to mention a dozen or so Department of Environmental Quality guidelines, it looked nice.

  Oh, and it sat squarely atop Little Niflheim.

  Persephone gazed fondly at it. “Lovely, isn’t it? I think I could be happy there.”

  “Excuse me,” I said incredulously, “but that is Hel’s demesne. Why don’t you go buy a piece of property somewhere else and start your own?”

  She pursed her lush lips. “I’m afraid it’s complicated. Technically speaking, I’m not an underworld deity, and yet my continued existence in the mortal plane requires that I be affiliated with an actual physical underworld. Hel’s demesne has been consecrated by a hundred years of her presence,” she said. “That’s why I need it if I’m going to spend six months of the year here in Pemkowet.”

  It had all the simplicity of a child’s logic: I want it, therefore it should be mine. “And are you proposing that Hel should share her demesne with you?” I asked quietly. “Or are you declaring war on her?”

  “War!” Persephone’s laughter was an enchanting sound. Dancing gold sparkles returned to her eyes. “What an archaic notion!”

  “That’s not an answer,” I pointed out.

  The scent of ripe fruit hanging in the air intensified. “Two deities from competing cosmologies cannot coexist in a single underworld,” Persephone said in a calm tone. “Hel has relocated her demesne before. She may do so again.”

  “Hel intends to defend her territory,” I said. “Which means you are declaring war.”

  “Of course not.” She gave me a beautiful smile with a large dose of crazy in it, the motes in her eyes sparkling manically. “Hel’s decisions, including her failure to establish a legal claim to her demesne, are not my responsibility. I’m merely making a generous offer to purchase this property and build something wonderful on it, something that will benefit all of Pemkowet and generate a great deal of tourism. You’ll vote on it tonight, won’t you?” she added to the council members. “You see, I can’t stay. I’m not supposed to leave Hades until spring. I had to get special dispensation to be here today, and I’d really like to return with an answer.”

  Jason Hallifax glanced at the members of the city council. “Oh, I think we can do that, can’t we?”

  “Are you out of your minds!” I shouted at them. “No! You can’t make a decision like that on a whim! You need to have a . . . a referendum, or a—”

  “You know, I think we’ve heard enough from you, pretty Daisy,” Persephone interrupted me. She made a slight, graceful gesture in my direction. “Let’s let others speak, shall we?”

  It’s never a good idea to annoy a goddess. Especially a crazy one. Persephone might not have Hel’s ability to stop a mortal heart with a thought, but my tongue froze to the roof of my mouth. I could taste her power trickling down my throat, honey-sweet and poisonous, and gagged ineffectually on it. At the front of the hall, Daniel Dufreyne raised one manscaped brow as if to say, I told you so.

  “I think this is a perfect forum to discuss Miss . . . Miss, um, Persephone’s offer.” The mayor of Pemkowet sounded like a man unsure whether or not he was dreaming. “Isn’t it?”

  “Well, it’s the city’s decision,” said Cal Burns, who was the Pemkowet Township supervisor. “But I think as long as you stipulate that the proceeds would be used to pay the settlement, we’re all in agreement that this is a fantastic way to resolve the situation.” He glanced at Trudy Penrose, the mayor of East Pemkowet. “Wouldn’t you say so?”

  “Oh, certainly,” she agreed.

  I wanted to scream, but all I could do was make a strangled sound in the back of my throat, a process that threatened to tear the skin off my tongue.

  This was worse, so much worse, than Dufreyne’s influence. At least there were ways to ward against him. How the hell did you stop a freaking goddess from dazzling the residents of an entire town, a town she was basically blackmailing into giving her what she wanted?

  “Is there further public discussion before we call for a vote on the offer?” Jason Hallifax asked. “Does anyone wish to address the council?” He cleared his throat, shooting a guilty little glance in my direction. “Anyone who isn’t Daisy Johanssen?”

  “I do.” It was Cody, on security duty at the back of the hall. His voice was harsh, more than a hint of growl in it. He strode forward, and it was Persephone he addressed, not the council. “If Pemkowet becomes your demesne, and you’re in residence for half the year, what happens during the other six months?”

  “Why, I’ll be with Hades, as always,” she said in a wondering tone. “Where else would I be?”

  “I don’t care where you’ll be,” Cody snarled, and I would have cheered him if I could have. Apparently, werewolves weren’t so easily dazzled. “What happens to the eldritch community in Pemkowet when you’re not here?”

  “He’s right.” In the audience, Sinclair rose. The beads on his short dreadlocks were stirring of their own accord, and he had one hand pressed to his chest where the protective joe-pye weed sigil was etched. He sounded uncertain, but determined. “What happens to the nature fey and all the rest?”

  Ah, God! I hadn’t even thought that far ahead. Like the adage went, as below, so above. If Pemkowet didn’t have a deity present in a functioning underworld for si
x months out of the year, for six months out of the year, the town would be mundane territory.

  No fairies, no hobgoblins, no bogles.

  No naiads or dryads, nixies or undines.

  No werewolves, no vampires.

  No Outcast.

  No Lurine, who was silently seething in her seat. The entire eldritch community would be unhomed.

  Persephone gave a delicate frown of consternation. “Well, I imagine some of them will become seasonal residents.”

  “What if that’s not an option?” Cody said grimly.

  Don Reynolds rose. “Look, as the father of a seven-year-old boy who was attacked by an eldritch creature, I have to say, I’m in favor of weeding out some of the elements in our midst.”

  “Some of those elements are our family and friends!” It was my mom who called that out, her voice shaking with anger. “You can’t just banish them!”

  At the council table, Jason Hallifax cleared his throat. “With all due respect, I think we have to make this decision based on the needs of the ordinary tax-paying citizens who elected us.”

  Casimir stood, resplendent in a tall beehive wig. “Who are you calling ordinary, dahling?” he asked in an acidic tone.

  The discussion raged for the better part of an hour. I was surprised that Persephone didn’t shut it down, but the longer it went on, the more people spoke in favor of accepting her offer, and the more they did, the more others began clamoring for the council to vote on it immediately.

  In the end, they did. It was unanimous.

  Forty-seven

  Once the vote was read, Persephone gave a cheery little wave in my direction, unsealing my tongue.

  I felt like I’d been hit by a bus. Everything had happened so fast. I’d come into this town meeting prepared to argue for all I was worth in favor of a decision to appeal, and my world had been turned upside down.

  Which had been the very first card in the reading Mom did for me on Thanksgiving; El Mundo, reversed.

  It had made me shiver then, and it did now. And La Corona, wealth. Well, that had sure as hell come into play. Which meant La Bandera came next. The flags of war were waving.

  The meeting was adjourned. Persephone gathered her entourage, preparing to depart. “I trust that you’ll inform Hel that her demesne will soon belong to me,” she said, gazing at me with sun-spangled eyes. “I’ll return on the first day of spring to take possession of it.”

  I said nothing.

  “Now you’re silent?” Persephone laughed her enchanting laugh. “As you will, pretty Daisy. I will see you anon.”

  She left Daniel Dufreyne behind to discuss the details. No doubt he’d get whatever he asked for, which now seemed like the least of my worries. There was a knot of friends and family waiting for me by the doors, but I approached the council before joining my people.

  “You have no idea what you’ve unleashed here tonight,” I said to the mayor and the council members. “No idea.”

  “We made the best decision we could for the community,” Jason Hallifax said defensively.

  “No,” I said. “You just voted to put Pemkowet in the middle of a war between two elder faith goddesses, and if you think otherwise, you’re delusional. Persephone’s declared war, all right. She’s just using money as her weapon.” I glanced at Dufreyne. “Money and a rigged trial.”

  “Nonetheless, it was a fair offer,” one of the other council members said. “And Persephone was right. Hel’s relocated before. Why can’t she just do it again?”

  “You might advise her to make sure she has legal title to whatever property she claims this time,” Hallifax added.

  I stared at him in disbelief. “You seem to think Hel’s going to act like an ordinary human being. May I remind you that she’s a freaking goddess, not some delinquent tenant being served an eviction notice?”

  The mayor looked apprehensive. “Well, you’ll just have to convince her it’s in everyone’s best interest if she, um, relocates.”

  “I’m sure Daisy will do just that,” Dufreyne said in a smooth voice, allaying the council’s fears. He smiled at me. “Unless she has another solution in mind?”

  I transferred my stare to him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? That’s been your endgame all along, hasn’t it? Well, go to hell. I’m not breaching the Inviolate Wall just because your crazy-ass mistress wants a summer home.”

  He just smiled.

  Turning on my heel, I went to join my mom and friends.

  “Are you okay, honey?” Mom asked me anxiously. “She didn’t hurt you, did she?”

  “Fine,” I said. “Just pissed.” I looked at Lurine. “Are you okay? What did Persephone say to you?”

  “Oh, she threatened me with a fate worse than death if I didn’t get out of her way,” Lurine said in a flat voice that didn’t belie the fury simmering beneath it. “I’ll spare you the unpleasant details. Unfortunately, she could deliver on it; or at least Hades could, and I have no reason to believe he wouldn’t. Damned Olympians.” She shrugged. “That’s what comes of losing a war. I told you the children of the Titans got screwed. I’m sorry, cupcake. I truly am.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Hey, Daisy?” Lee interjected. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I think that, um, there’s a frost giant outside waiting for you.”

  Of course there was.

  “Thanks.” I took a deep breath. “It looks like I’ve got to report to Hel.”

  To say that the Norse goddess of the dead was displeased with the news I brought her was an understatement.

  A massive, massive understatement.

  A short time after Mikill picked me up at City Hall, I stood shivering before Hel’s throne in Little Niflheim while Hel stared into the distance, both eyes open and blazing. In the darkness, thunderclouds gathered around her throne. Deep beneath us, the earth rumbled with vibrations I could feel through the soles of my boots; above us, the beams supporting the ceiling of the abandoned sawmill creaked ominously.

  I really, really hoped Hel wasn’t going to bring the whole thing crashing down around us. Being buried alive would be a sucky way to die.

  In the end, her gaze returned from the distance, as it always had. The earth stopped groaning and settled.

  I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

  “So,” Hel said in her most sepulchral voice. “It seems I am mistaken, and the gods of yore may yet make war upon each other.”

  “Does it have to be war, my lady?” My voice sounded small and plaintive. “Please know I mean no disloyalty . . . but could you relocate Little Niflheim?”

  Hel closed her ember eye and smiled gently at me with the fair side of her face. “I fear it is an impossibility, my young liaison. The work of finding this place, of the Norns nurturing the seed of a second Yggdrasil, was the work of many years. This is something the Greek Persephone well knows,” she added. “She cannot acquire my demesne by dint of mere money.” Her left eye blazed open. “To truly claim it as her own, she must end my existence.”

  I winced. “You know, it would have been useful to have that piece of information a few hours ago, when I was trying to persuade the council not to accept Persephone’s offer.”

  Hel waved her right hand in a dismissive gesture. “You pitted yourself against a goddess bent on persuading mortals to accede to her will. That was never a battle you were going to win.”

  “So what happens now, my lady?” I asked helplessly.

  “Now?” Hel smiled, and it was a terrible smile on both sides of her bifurcated face. “We prepare for war.”

  “As long as Yggdrasil stands, there is hope,” Mikill said in his deep rumble. “Our fates are tied to the world tree. The hellhound Garm yet guards it. The frost giants will give battle. The duegar will take up arms.”

  “Consult this ledger you have created and seek out allies above the ground, Daisy Johanssen,” Hel said to me. “Surely there are those among them who are willing to stand and fight beside us.
”

  I nodded. “Is there anything else you would have me do?” A fearful thought struck me. “My lady . . . is dauda-dagr capable of killing Persephone?”

  “No, my young liaison. It cannot slay a goddess.” Hel’s voice took on a note of kindness. “You have served me with valor and loyalty. I am sorry that your service has been thus rewarded.”

  My throat tightened. “So am I, my lady. This, um, war . . . exactly what do you think we’re up against?”

  “The Greek Persephone’s weapon is wealth.” Hel’s nostrils flared with disdain. Well, the right one did, anyway. The left was pretty much just a blackened hole revealing the sinus cavity beneath it. “Her husband’s wealth. It is my belief that she will acquire whatever mortal army such wealth can purchase.”

  I swallowed hard at the thought of frost giants and dwarves facing off against some sort of Blackwater-style mercenary army equipped with body armor and assault rifles. “I’ll do my best, my lady, but . . . are you sure there’s no way to avoid this?”

  “Nothing that lies within my power,” Hel said gently. “Unless the Greek Persephone relinquishes her claim, war will be waged.”

  “There are worse fates,” Mikill added in a philosophical tone. “If it is the end we face, it is fitting that we face it in battle.” He rubbed his massive hands together in anticipation. “And it will be an epic battle.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, okay?” I said to him. “I’m not ready to lose you just yet.”

  He laughed deep in his chest. “Nor am I ready to be lost.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Once my audience with Hel was concluded, Mikill drove me back home. After calling Stefan to touch base with him, I fired up my laptop and spent a couple of hours poring over the Pemkowet Ledger, making lists of members of the eldritch community other than the Outcast who might be willing to stand with the denizens of Little Niflheim and take on a crazed goddess and her probable mercenary army.

  At least I knew where to start.

  Forty-eight