My Life From Hell

by Tellulah Darling

  I’d been the freaking pomegranate tree, for crying out loud. And it hadn’t felt like dying. Well, yeah, it had, but it wasn’t a gentle go-out-with-a-whimper ending. I’d been fueling the destruction.

  Was this my confirmation that I ended the world? Was I the instrument of destruction? And if so, in the end, was it me or Persephone who would ultimately be in charge? Was the vision hard proof that the past repeated itself? That this enchantment didn’t end, and Sophie Bloom ultimately failed to exist?

  Was I going to lose all awareness, leaving Persephone and her destructive impulses to take over? Would the volatile combination of Persephone, Zeus, and Hades end humanity?

  I took a sip of the coffee, my head spinning. Persephone may have hated coffee, but funnily enough, it was exactly the way I liked it. It was drip, not espresso, which would have been better, but it had the right amount of milk and sugar. Maybe Kai did recognize me on some unconscious level?

  Don’t get stupidly hopeful.

  I closed my eyes, savoring the taste, turning my anxiety about the the vision into a chance to sift through memories and understand why Persephone had never spoken up about the coffee. It was obviously part of something much bigger.

  Demeter and Zeus had fueled Persephone’s sense of very conditional love. Instilling her desire to please, to be told what a delight she was. There was my answer. As was remembering her anxiety to always live up to that label. In my experience, most gods didn’t follow the “nothing you can do will ever make me love you less” school of parenting. All of this had brought her into a passive-aggressive standoff with Kai, where she couldn’t speak up and he wouldn’t ask.

  Just because I always give in doesn’t mean I always want to. Her long-ago thought echoed up to me now. I remembered Persephone in a way I hadn’t before. And all it seemed to do was accentuate the differences between us.

  I would have spoken up had it been me. Yeah, like you did about your situation with Kai these past few months.

  That was different. At least I’d tried. Not very hard.

  I put a smackdown on the negativity. I was different and this proved it. Persephone and I were never going to be aligned. Couldn’t even understand how the other moved through the world. Hekate’s decree to get in sync with my goddess self seemed impossible.

  I set the cup down on the bedside table, the coffee off-putting. This morning’s events were just more extremely pressing reasons to find Prometheus and get Aletheia here. I swung my legs onto the ground and stood.

  Then I went to her closet, doubtful about finding something to wear that wasn’t totally unacceptable. Surprisingly, the selection wasn’t horrible. Just predictable.

  Flip … long flowy gown … Flip … long flowy gown … Flip … somewhat shorter flowy gown …

  I scrambled into the most bearable choice: a light blue dress that was—wait for it—flowy, hitting about mid-thigh. I paired it with black, flat sandals, and headed out.

  My priorities: find Prometheus, get Aletheia to reveal Kiki’s enchantment, take Theo and Kai to the exit, and make sure it was in exitable condition, in order to stop Hades and Zeus.

  See where things stand with Hannah. Say good-bye to Theo.

  One thing at a time.

  I pulled my hand away from my cuff, not wanting the reminder of Hannah. I forced myself to stick to “find Prometheus” before I curled into a ball of dejection.

  I marched down the stairs, hoping I’d find Prometheus in the breakfast room. I had no idea which bedroom belonged to him. But I had memories of seeing him at breakfast, so that’s where I started. Also, it was no hardship to follow the smell of bacon.

  I swept into the bright room and skidded to a stop at the sight of Hades hunched over a plate of food at a massive wooden table. He was dressed much like Kai had been yesterday, in dark linen pants and button up shirt. The effect was nowhere near as fabulous, but he did have a compelling charm of his own.

  The way Hades’ eyes burned into me, I was positive he’d realized I was actually Sophie.

  “Yes?” His voice gave away nothing.

  He was still waiting for an answer so I said the first thing that came into my head. “I’m hungry.” My stomach rumbled and I blushed beet red.

  To my shock, Hades actually laughed. “Even the Goddess of Spring suffers the same base needs as the rest of us.” He flung an arm out toward the full buffet, where silver chafing dishes promised breakfasty delights.

  I sighed happily. “Bacon.”

  Hades raised an eyebrow. “Are you actually going to eat swine?”

  I should have declined. I had no memory of Persephone eating anything other than the lightest of meals. Like fruit.

  Screw that. “Nope. I’m going to feast on it.”

  He dug into his own breakfast. “Help yourself.”

  I intended to. I picked up a plate and began the joyous journey to discover what lay under each silver lid. Oh bliss! Oh taste bud heaven. Not only did I find bacon, but also eggs and light-as-air waffles. Sausages and tiny pan fried potatoes tossed with salt and oregano. I piled my plate high.

  “You can get seconds,” Hades said in disbelief as I set everything down precariously on the table, willing my leaning Tower of Breakfast not to fall.

  “I could. But that would be greedy.”

  He laughed again. I did too. We blinked at each other in surprise.

  Seriously. This was uncharted territory for me, Persephone, and Hades. We hastily returned to our breakfasts.

  For a while, there was no sound other than eating. “Where’re all your suck ups?”

  Hades eyes blazed from under his heavy eyebrows. “They leave me alone until I’ve had my coffee. Or get thrown in Tartarus.”

  I stiffened. Touchy.

  “I’m kidding.” He shook his head. “No one ever gets when I’m kidding.”

  He looks lonely.

  No, see, I didn’t want to think that about him. Didn’t want to feel bad for him. He wants humanity dead. Wants Earth destroyed.

  I chewed on a sausage almost viciously, trying to hang on to my hatred. I thought about how he treated Kai. That helped. “Your son would get your humor. If you ever bothered with him.”

  Hades scowled and slammed a fist down on the table, sending a crack out along the foot-thick wood like a ripple in a pond.

  I clamped my knees together so they couldn’t shake.

  “Don’t ever talk to me about my son. You’ve made him soft. Whipped him around your little finger. After all I’ve done …”

  Now I was indignant. “Ignored him? Insulted him? Emotionally abused him?”

  Hades tilted his chin up, the gesture haughty and proud. “I made sure he survived.”

  Understanding took my breath away. In his own twisted way, Hades loved his son. He really thought he was being a good father. Just like Zeus had thought that sending minions to kill me if I didn’t fall in line counted as tough love.

  No wonder Kai didn’t break the passive-aggressive stalemate with Persephone. Because as much as Persephone had been raised to never disappoint, Kai had been raised to be tough. To show he was strong. To play a different predetermined role. They were locked into a dynamic they wouldn’t, couldn’t, break. To break it was to speak up, and make themselves vulnerable.

  And vulnerable was unacceptable. Instead, they both pretended everything was fine.

  I bowed my head, busying myself with pushing food around my plate and studying Hades through lowered lashes, while my thoughts spilled over each other. Did Hades act that way toward Kai because taunts and mockery were the only connection he knew how to make? And if I took that thought further, did this entire war between Hades and Zeus boil down to the fact that fighting each other was the only way they could stay connected?

  If that were true, messed up as it was, it was still sad. Man, I didn’t want to feel compassion for the old goat. “Don’t you want more for Kyrillos than just survival?”

  Hades sneered at me. “Awww, does he need a hug?”r />
  And back to thinking you’re an ass. “You don’t need to be such a jerk.” I took a grim satisfaction at his startled expression. I’d talked back to the Lord of the Underworld.

  Hades pushed to his feet and gave me a low, mocking bow. “I will throw a party celebrating the greatness that is my son. How about that?” I tried not to be too subtle in conveying my thoughts on his doucheyness.

  But Hades wasn’t paying me any attention. He zoned out for a moment, and then pronounced, “I will throw a party. A masquerade ball starting at midnight before the equinox.” His gaze turned distant and soft. “He used to like parties.”

  I choked on a bite of food at seeing this side of him. Which swung his attention back to me.

  Hades’ eyes gleamed and he smiled slowly. “Such an art to picking the right mask, don’t you think? The wrong one can reveal so much more than it conceals.” He swept from the room, bellowing for some creature or another to start the planning.

  Games and roles and masks and agendas. Give me high school backstabbing any day.

  On the upside, my belly was full and I’d survived my first encounter with Hades. Maybe my luck would hold in finding Prometheus. My chair scraped over the flagstones as I stood.

  Crossing to the door, I heard a chirping. I looked around, expecting some trapped little bird but there was nothing. I took a couple more steps. The noise got louder. More insistent.

  Another look around. This time I found the source. A gray gecko with brown spots and brilliant green eyes clung to the wall, close to the ground. I bent down to peer at him. “Hey, little guy.” I would have dismissed him as a cute wildlife encounter when I realized what his presence meant.

  Demeter was here.

  The gecko was her messenger. I knew it. I remembered it. These creatures were considered sacred to her. And whenever she’d wanted to meet Persephone in the Underworld, she’d used one of them to arrange a meeting.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Mother dearest wants to see me, does she?” My palms started to sweat and I tugged at the neckline of my dress. I swear it had shrunk and was the reason I suddenly couldn’t breathe.

  My first time seeing Demeter while she was still the loving mother of legend? How nerve wracking was that? What if I ended up blubbering the whole time? Or punching her? Either was possible.

  And since refusing the summons was not an option, I was about to find out which it would be.

  Fourteen

  One of the many fun facts now at my disposal with the return of Persephone’s memories was that while in the Underworld, she and Demeter had always met in Tartarus. Not exactly the field trip I wanted to take.

  Ever.

  I stifled a half-panicked breath. Calm …

  I had to meet with Demeter. This was my chance to make sure she didn’t end up wanting to murder Persephone. Therefore, I would be the absolute delight that she expected. “Lead on,” I told the gecko.

  He crawled out of the room, and I obediently followed.

  The gecko hugged the low edge of the wall, leading me through the palace via its twisty back hallways. He had an unerring sense of timing, turning into corridors just as voices faded off ahead of us and feet padded away.

  He moved fast for a little guy too, never stopping to see if I was keeping up. Which I was, but barely. When we stepped outside, I was only dimly aware of the heat beating down on my head, and the ticklish twitching in my nose from the acrid tang of the dry grass.

  Between the nerves and the total focus on not losing my tiny guide, I didn’t realize we’d reached Tartarus until the overpowering smell of sulphur had me gagging. I flung an arm up to cover my nose and mouth, but the scent was insidious. It snaked its putrid way inside me.

  My lizard leader came to a stop. Before us was a bronze fence that stretched up and away as far as the eye could see.

  I glanced down at the gecko. “Couldn’t you bring her out here?”

  He waggled his head at me.

  Uncertain, I placed one hand against the fence’s ridged surface, and practically buckled as the cries of the damned knocked the breath from me.

  Tearing my hand off that gate was like trying to detach myself from the strongest magnet ever. Every molecule of me felt stuck, plastered to it in despair for all eternity. It magnified every self-criticism, every negative thought and fear into infinity.

  Instrument of our destruction. Instrument of our destruction.

  The mocking laughter from my vision filled my ears.

  I slid down the fence, the skin on my legs pricking sharply as I hit a tangle of thorns. The pricking crept down my ankle, getting more frequent. Dully, I glanced down to find the gecko nipping at me.

  I could almost hear him chittering at me to get up.

  It was crazy hard but I managed to stagger to my feet. The gecko kept up his chatter, nipping at me every few feet to make sure I didn’t stop.

  My limbs felt heavy, my gait sluggish. I was doing a pretty excellent zombie shuffle.

  The gecko prodded me along for a bit, finally stopping at a gap in the fence. No, a small door that stood ajar. He ran through it.

  I don’t know how Persephone had managed to keep coming here, because I couldn’t make myself take that first step into Tartarus. I had to take my hands, wrap them around my leg, lift it up, and set my foot down a step ahead. Over and over again. I stared at the ground, my willpower taxed to its limit.

  The heavy clunk of the door shutting behind me let me know I’d made it through.

  Unwillingly, resentfully, apprehensively, I looked around. Everything was black. From the mud on the ground, to the air itself.

  Black roses with deadly thorns grew in wild tangles—the only foliage I could see. They looked like the drawing Jennifer had made for my tattoo. Guess I knew what I’d been channeling when I’d asked for them. Fleetingly, I wondered if I’d ever go back and get artwork that really suited me.

  I forced myself to move deeper into Tartarus.

  The air was ripe with sulphur, but I was getting used to the stink of rotten eggs now. Somewhat. I still sucked my nostrils together as best I could, as I made my way forward trailing the gecko.

  Worse than the blackness, or the stench, or the despair I felt, was the identically frozen expression of utter hopelessness on every person I passed. Eyes wide and lost, they moaned and keened from the depths of their souls.

  I sped up. There was no consolation to offer them and I was scared that if I stopped moving, their cries would suck the life from me. Also, the thought of them touching me was plain creepy.

  At least I had no time to be nervous about seeing Demeter again. It was all I could do to keep my mind blank as I wound my way through this land of wretchedness and despondency.

  Until I was enveloped in my mother’s arms.

  She smelled sweet. Almost fruity. It cut through the Tartarus stench like a balm to my heart. That was the first thing I noticed. The second was that she was shorter than me.

  Until now, my parents—especially my god ones—had been larger than life. Figuratively and literally in the case of Zeus. I’d never imagined that Demeter would be smaller than me. Not by much, but it gave her a fragility I hadn’t expected.

  Her hug, however, was firm and loving and pure mom. It was the hug I’d been waiting for all of my life, and the hug I would have loved to savor. But I felt Persephone gnawing at my skin like a darkness. The tiny hairs on my arms—her arms?—bristled in seething resentment at Demeter’s touch. I had to suppress the overwhelming urge to rip myself free of her embrace.

  I understood mommy issues. I had my own. In spades. And with the same mother. But despite everything I had experienced at Felicia’s hands, I still wanted to feel Demeter’s love.

  If only for a second.

  Even if it was borrowed. Even if it was just magic. Or fake, or whatever. Because I’d never had it and, with every fibre of my being, I wanted to savor that amazing feeling that I’d missed out on for so long.

  I took it all in. H
ow, when she hugged me, she slung her left arm over my right shoulder and her right arm under my left armpit, to kind of cocoon me in a sling of affection. How her cheek felt slightly flushed as she pressed it to mine. How, before she released me, she gave me a final tight squeeze.

  I stockpiled it all in my memory. And I hated Felicia even more for having deprived me of it.

  Jack had gotten every little detail right when he’d created a fake Demeter to trick me. Her dark hair, the crow’s lines around her eyes, the slight lilt of her Greek accent as she spoke my name and brushed a strand of hair from my face. I memorized her appearance.

  “Has he contacted you?”

  Demeter shook her head impatiently at my look of confusion. “Your father, Persephone. Has he bothered with you at all lately?”

  “No. Of course not. But mama—” Instinctively, I had reverted to Persephone’s name for her.

  Demeter cut me off before I could steer the conversation around to the equinox and what was or was not going to happen. “Selfish, arrogant man.”

  “I prefer psychopathic narcissist,” I muttered, but she was on a roll.

  Demeter gripped my hands, her eyes glittering. “Four days, kopella mou. We will have everything we want and he will have nothing.”

  There was the familiar rush of rage. “Everything you want.”

  “What we both want.” Demeter’s voice was firm.

  Anxiety warred with anger. I cannot disappoint her. Thus will I play the perfect daughter until it is time for her to learn.

  I closed my eyes to center myself. I was at the mercy of Persephone’s emotions. I had to get on top of this. Murder just wasn’t gonna happen a second time.

  My very existence was at stake.

  Think, Sophie … I frowned. I willed my breath to stay steady, my power to remain contained as I sifted through Persephone’s memories for something that could help. I only half-listened as Demeter spoke again. But when she said, “Tell me where you and Kyrillos plan to recite the ritual,” I came to full attention.