When Persephone returned home on Sunday, she stayed up late and worked on her article, finishing around five o’clock in the morning. She decided to write about the gala and The Halcyon Project, and started the article with an apology, writing, I was wrong about the God of the Underworld. I accused him of carelessly engaging mortals in bargains that led to their deaths. What I have learned is that these contracts are far more complicated and the motives far more pure.
She stood by her original statement that Hades should offer help in a different manner, but acknowledged that The Halcyon Project was, in fact, a direct result of a conversation they’d had, adding, “When other gods might retaliate for my candid review of their character, Lord Hades asked questions, listened, and changed. What more could we want from our gods than that?”
Persephone laughed to herself. Never in her lifetime would she have thought she’d suggest that Hades was the standard by which all other gods should be measured, but the more she learned about him, the more she felt that might be the case. Not that Hades was perfect—in fact, it was his imperfection and willingness to acknowledge it that made him a god unlike any other.
You’re still in a contract with him, she reminded herself before she put the Lord of the Underworld on too high a pedestal.
After her visit to Elysium and her conversation with Thanatos, she’d wanted to ask Hades so many questions yesterday—why me? What did you see when you looked at me? What weakness did you want to challenge in me? What part of me were you hoping to save? What destiny did the Fates forge for me that you wanted to challenge?
But she hadn’t gotten the chance. When Hades had returned to the Underworld, he’d gathered her into his arms and taken her to bed, shattering all rational thoughts.
Coming home had been exactly what she needed—it had given her the distance to remind herself that if she wanted…whatever was between her and Hades to work, the contract had to end.
After a couple hours of sleep, Persephone got ready for the day; she had to put in a few hours at her internship and then head to class. While she was in the kitchen making coffee, she heard the front door bang open.
“I’m back!” Lexa called.
Persephone smiled and poured her a cup, sliding it across the counter as she came into view. “How was your weekend?”
Lexa beamed. “Magical.”
Persephone snorted, but she could relate—she wondered if she and her best friend had similar experiences.
“I’m happy for you, Lex.” She’d said it before, and she’d say it many times after.
“Thanks for the coffee.” Lexa started toward her room, but paused. “Oh, I meant to ask…how was the Underworld?”
Persephone froze. “What do you mean?”
“Persephone. I know you left with Hades Saturday night. It’s all anyone could talk about—the girl in red, stolen to the Underworld.”
She paled. “Did anyone—no one knew it was me, right?”
Lexa looked a little sympathetic. “I mean, Hades had just announced The Halcyon Project, which was inspired by you, so people came to their own conclusions.”
Persephone groaned. That’s all she needed, more press on her supposed relationship with Hades.
A very dark and very loud part of her mind suddenly wondered if Hades’ behavior at the gala had been intentional. Was he looking for a way to divert attention from his antics by shining a spotlight on a relationship? And if that were the case, was she just a pawn?
“I know you’d rather not acknowledge whatever’s going on between you and Hades,” Lexa added, “but I’m your best friend. You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”
“I know, I know. I really didn’t intend to leave with him. I was going to call a cab and then…” her voice trailed away.
“He swept you off your feet?” Lexa waggled her brows, and Persephone couldn’t help but laugh. “Just tell me one thing…did he kiss you?”
Persephone blushed and admitted, “Yes.”
Lexa squealed. “Oh my gods, Persephone! You have to tell me everything!”
Persephone looked at the clock. “I have to go—lunch with Sybil?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Despite leaving her apartment late, Persephone took her time walking to work, reveling in the feel of life around her. She was still in disbelief. Her magic had surfaced, and it had awakened in the Underworld. She still had no idea what to do with it—she didn’t know how to harness what she felt, or use it to create illusions, but she planned to meet Hecate this evening for lessons.
When she arrived at the Acropolis, Demetri asked to see her. He offered a few edits to her article and before she sat down to work on them, she went into the break room to get some coffee.
“Hey, Persephone,” Adonis said as he joined her. He put on his most charming smile, as if it could erase the past and build a whole new future.
She glanced at him. “I don’t really feel like talking to you.”
She didn’t need to look at him to know he had stopped grinning. He was probably shocked his smile hadn’t worked its usual magic. “You’re really just gonna stop talking to me? You know that’s impossible. We work together.”
“I’ll still be professional,” she said.
“You aren’t being very professional right now.”
“Actually, I don’t have to make small talk with you to be professional. I just have to get my job done.”
“Or you could forgive me,” Adonis said. “I was drunk, and I barely touched you.”
Barely touched? He had pulled her hair and attempted to force her mouth open. Besides that, his touch—no matter light or aggressive—was completely unwanted.
Persephone ignored him, leaving the break room. He followed.
“Is this about Hades?” he demanded. “Are you sleeping with him?”
“That is not an appropriate question, Adonis, and it’s also none of your business.”
“He told you to stay away from me, didn’t he?”
Persephone turned to face him. She’d never met anyone who was so oblivious to their own wrongdoing. “I am capable of making my own decisions. I thought you would remember that after you stole my article,” she snapped. “But just so we’re clear, I don’t want to talk to you because you are a manipulator, you never take responsibility for your mistakes, and you kissed me when I specifically told you not to, which makes you a predator.”
There was a heavy pause as Persephone’s words hit home. It took Adonis a moment, but he finally seemed to understand what she was saying. His nostrils flared, and he clenched his fists, knuckles turning white.
“You bitch!”
“Adonis,” Demetri’s voice cut through their conversation like a whip. Stunned, Persephone turned to see her boss standing outside his office. She had never thought him capable of the anger she saw on his face. “A moment.”
Adonis looked stricken, and he glared at Persephone as if she were to blame.
When the mortal disappeared into Demetri’s office, her boss gave her an apologetic look before following him in and closing the door. Ten minutes later, a security officer arrived on the floor and walked into Demetri’s office. After a moment, the officer, Demetri, and Adonis emerged. Adonis was flanked by the two and as he passed Persephone’s desk, he was rigid, his hands fisted. He muttered under his breath, “This is ridiculous. She’s a snitch.”
“You told on yourself,” Demetri said.
They disappeared in the direction of his desk, and reappeared leading Adonis to the elevator with a box in hands.
When Demetri returned, he approached Persephone’s desk. “You have a moment?”
“Yeah,” she said quietly, and followed him into his office.
Once inside, she took a seat, and Demetri did the same. “Want to tell me what happened?”
She explained—only the part where Adonis stole her article and submitted it without her knowledge, because that was the only part that really counted at work.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Persephone shrugged. “I wanted to submit it anyway. It just happened faster than I anticipated.”
Demetri grimaced. “In the future, I want you to come to me when you feel wronged, Persephone. Your satisfaction in this job is important to me.”
“I…appreciate that.”
“And I will understand if you want to cease writing articles about Hades.”
She stared at him. “You would? But why?”
“I won’t pretend that I’m not aware of the frustration and stress it has caused you,” he said, and she had to admit, she was a little surprised he’d noticed. “You became famous overnight and you’re not even finished with college yet.”
She let her eyes fall to her hands, twisting her fingers nervously. “But what about the readership?”
Demetri shrugged. “That’s the thing about news. There’s always something new.”
Persephone managed a small laugh and considered things. If she stopped writing now, she didn’t feel she would have done Hades’ story justice. She’d started out with such a harsh critique of him, and, maybe selfishly, she wanted to explore other facets of his character. She realized she didn’t have to write an article to do that, but a part of her wanted to show Hades in the light. She wanted others to see him as she had come to—as kind and caring.
“No,” she said. “It’s okay. I want to continue with the series…for now.”
Demetri smiled. “Alright, but if you wish to end it, I want you to let me know.”
She agreed and went back to her desk, unable to focus on her tasks. She still felt a little shaky from her encounter with Adonis. In truth, she’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but after today, she knew it was the right decision. She didn’t think she would forget the look on his face—she’d saw and felt his rage.
After work, she headed to campus. During class, she found it harder to concentrate. Her sleepless night was catching up to her, and though she took notes, at the end of class, when she tried to read what she had written, it was just scribbles.
She really needed some rest.
A tap on the shoulder made her jump. She turned and looked into the face of a girl with small, fairy-like features and a dust of pretty freckles. Her eyes were large and round.
“You’re Persephone Rosi, right?”
She was getting used to that question and learning to dread it.
“I am,” she said hesitantly. “Can I…help you?”
The girl picked up a magazine that rested on top of the books she cradled against her chest. It was the Delphi Divine, its cover a picture of Hades this time. Persephone was shocked—Hades had actually allowed himself be photographed. The headline read God of the Underworld Credits Journalist for The Halcyon Project.
Persephone took it, flipping to the full spread and started reading, rolling her eyes.
Probably the worst part—aside from the article suggesting that the reason for the project was because Hades had fallen for the ‘beautiful, blond mortal’—was that they’d sourced a picture of her. It was the headshot they’d taken for her internship at New Athens News.
“Is it true?” the girl asked. “Are you really dating Lord Hades?”
Persephone looked at her and stood, shouldering her backpack. She didn’t think there was a word to describe what was happening between her and the God of the Dead. Hades had called her his lover, but Persephone would still describe herself as a prisoner—and that would be the case until the contract was removed.
Instead of answering the girl, she asked, “You do know the Divine is a gossip magazine?”
“Yes but…he created The Halcyon Project just for you.”
“It isn’t for me,” she pushed past the girl. “It’s for mortals in need.”
“Still, don’t you think that’s romantic?”
Persephone paused and turned to face the girl. “He listened. There’s nothing romantic about that.”
The girl blinked, confused.
Persephone explained, “I’m not interested in romanticizing Hades for doing something all men should be doing.”
“So, you don’t think he likes you?” she asked.
“I’d much rather he respect me,” she answered. Respect could build an empire. Trust could make it unbreakable. Love could make it last forever. And she would know Hades respected her when he removed this stupid mark on her skin.
“Excuse me,” she said, and left. It was close to lunch and she had that date with Lexa and Sybil.
Persephone left Hestia Hall and crossed campus, cutting through the Garden of the Gods, following the familiar stone path, passing Apollo’s marble statue, when the scent of Hades’ magic hit her. It was the only warning she had before she was teleported. She appeared in a different part of the garden where narcissus bloomed, standing face-to-face with Hades.
He reached forward, gripped the back of her neck, and brought his lips to hers. She kissed him eagerly, but she was distracted by the article and her thoughts around the contract.
When he pulled away, he stared at her a moment, then asked, “Are you well?”
Her stomach flipped. She wasn’t used to that question, or the way he asked it—in a voice echoing with sincerity and concern.
“Yes,” she answered breathlessly. Tell him—ask him about the contract, she commanded herself. Demand he free you if he wants to be with you. Instead, she asked, “What are you doing here?”
The corners of his mouth turned up, and he brushed his thumb over the bottom of her lip. “I came to say goodbye.”
“What?” The question came out more demanding than she wanted. What did he mean he was saying goodbye?
He chuckled under his breath. “I must go to Olympia for Council.”
Council for the gods occurred quarterly unless there was a war. If Hades was going, that meant Demeter would be going, too. “Oh.” She lowered her head, disappointed. “How long?”
He shrugged. “If I have anything to say about it, a day and no more.”
“Why wouldn’t you have a say?”
“It depends on how much Zeus and Poseidon argue.”
She wanted to laugh but, after seeing them at the gala, she got the feeling their arguing wasn’t cute, but brutal. Even worse than Zeus or Poseidon, Persephone wondered how her mother would treat the God of the Dead.
She shivered and tried to meet Hades’ gaze, but his eyes had fallen to the magazine. He plucked it from the top of her things and frowned—then frowned deeper after she asked, “Is this why you announced The Halcyon Project at the gala? So people would focus on something other than my assessment of your character?”
“You think I created The Halcyon Project for my reputation?”
She shrugged. “You didn’t want me to continue writing about you. You said so yesterday.”
He stared at her for a moment, clearly frustrated. “I didn’t start The Halcyon Project in hopes that the world would admire me. I started it because of you.”
“Why?”
“Because I saw truth in what you said. Is that really so hard to believe?”
She couldn’t really answer, and Hades’ brows drew together tightly.
“My absence will not affect your ability to enter the Underworld. You may come and go as you please.”
She didn’t like how distant he suddenly felt, and he wasn’t even gone yet. She stepped closer to him and tilted her head back so she could look into his eyes. “Before you go, I was thinking,” she said, and reached for the lapels of his jacket. “I’d like to throw a party in the Underworld…for the souls.”
Hades’ hands closed over her wrists. His eyes were searching, and she wasn’t sure if he would push her away or pull her closer. “What kind of party?”
“Thanatos tells me souls will reincarnate at the end of the week and that Asphodel is already planning a celebration. I think we should move it to the palace.”
“We?”
Persephone bit her lip and blushed. “I’m asking you if I can plan a party in the Underworld.” He just stared at her, so she went on, “Hecate has already agreed to help.”
His brows rose. “Has she?”
“Yes.” Her eyes fell to where her palms now rested, flat on his chest. “She’s thinking we should have a ball.”
He was quiet so long, she thought he must be angry, so she looked up to meet his gaze.
“Are you trying to seduce me so I’ll agree to your ball?” he asked.
“Is it working?”
He chuckled and drew her closer. His arousal was hard against her stomach and she gasped. It was the only answer she required, and still he said against her ear, “It’s working.” He kissed her thoroughly and released her. “Plan your ball, Lady Persephone.”
“Come home soon, Lord Hades.”
He smiled wickedly before vanishing.
She realized in that moment, she was afraid to say anything about the contract because that might mean disappointment. It might mean the realization that this would never work.
And that would break her.
***
Persephone met Lexa and Sybil for lunch at The Golden Apple. Luckily, with Sybil present, Lexa didn’t ask any questions about the kiss, though it was possible Sybil already knew the details. The girls talked about finals, graduation, the gala, and Apollo.
It all started because Lexa asked Sybil, “So, are you and Apollo…?”
“Dating? No,” Sybil said. “But I think he hopes I will agree to be his lover.”
Persephone and Lexa exchanged a look.
“Wait,” Lexa said. “He asked? Like…for permission?”
Sybil smirked, and Persephone admired how the oracle could talk about this so easily. “He did, and I told him no.”
“You told Apollo, the God of the Sun, perfection incarnate, no?” Lexa looked slightly appalled. “Why?”
“Lexa, you can’t ask that!” Persephone chided.
Sybil just smiled and said, “Apollo will not love one person and I do not wish to share.”
Persephone understood why Sybil wouldn’t want to get involved with the god. Apollo had a long list of lovers that spanned divine, semi-divine, and mortal—and, as the God of Light’s list had proven, he never stayed with one person too long.
Conversation lapsed into making plans for the weekend, and once they had decided where they would meet for drinks and dancing, Persephone left for the Underworld.
She watered her garden and went to find Hecate in her cottage. It was a small home, nestled in a dark meadow, and while it was charming, there was something…foreboding about it. Perhaps it was because of the coloring—the siding was dark grey, the door a dark purple, and ivy crawled up the house, covering the windows and roof.
Inside, it was like she had stepped into a garden filled with night-blooming flowers—thick, purple wisteria hung overhead like clusters of stars in a blackout night while a carpet of white nicotiana covered the ground. A table, chairs, and bed were crafted of soft black wood that looked as if it had grown into the formation of each piece. Orbs rose into the air and it took Persephone a moment to recognize what they really were—lampades, small and beautiful fairy-like creatures with hair like night, laced with white flowers and silvery skin.
Hecate wasn’t sitting on the bed or at the table, but on the grassy floor. Her legs were folded under her, and her eyes were closed. A lit black candle flickered in front of her.
“Hecate?” Persephone asked, knocking on the doorframe, but the goddess didn’t stir. She stepped further into the room. “Hecate?”
Still no response. It was like she was asleep.
Persephone bent and blew out the candle, and Hecate’s eyes snapped open. For a moment, she looked positively wicked, her eyes an endless black, and Persephone suddenly understood the kind of goddess Hecate could become if she was pushed—the kind of goddess that turned Gale the witch into Gale the polecat.
When she recognized Persephone, she smiled. “Welcome back, my lady.”
“Persephone,” she corrected, and Hecate’s smile widened.
“I’m only trying it out,” she said. “You know, for when you become mistress of the Underworld.”
Persephone blushed fiercely. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Hecate.”
The goddess raised a brow, and Persephone rolled her eyes.
“What were you doing?” Persephone asked.
“Oh, just cursing a mortal,” Hecate replied almost cheerfully, grabbing the candle and getting to her feet. She put it away and turned to face Persephone. “Watered your garden already, dear?”
“Yes.”
“Shall we begin?”
She was quick to get down to business, directing Persephone to sit on the floor. Persephone hesitated, but after encouragement from Hecate to see if her touch still took life, she knelt to the ground. When she pressed her hands to the grass, nothing happened.
“Amazing,” Persephone whispered.
Hecate spent the next half hour leading her through a meditation that was supposed to help her visualize and use her power.
“You must practice calling to your magic,” Hecate said.
“How do I do that?”
“Magic is malleable. As you call for it, imagine it as clay—mold it into what you desire and then…give it life.”
Persephone shook her head. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It is easy,” Hecate said. “All it takes is belief.”
Persephone wasn’t sure about that, but she tried to do as Hecate instructed. She imagined the life she felt in the wisteria above her as something she could shape and willed the plants to grow larger and more vibrant, but when she opened her eyes, nothing had changed.
Hecate must have noticed her disappointment, because she placed a hand on Persephone’s shoulder. “It will take time, but you will master this.”
Persephone smiled at the goddess, but wilted on the inside. She had no choice but to master this if was going to fulfill her contract with Hades, because, as much as she liked the King of the Underworld, she had no desire to be a prisoner of his realm.
“Persephone?”
“Huh?”
She blinked, looking at Hecate who grinned.
“Thinking of our King?”
She looked away. “Everyone knows, don’t they?”
“Well, he did carry you through the palace to his bedroom.”
She stared at the grass. She hadn’t intended to have this conversation, and though it pained her to speak the words, she said, “I’m not sure it should have happened.”
“Why ever not?”
“For so many reasons, Hecate.”
The goddess waited.
“The contract, for one,” Persephone explained. “And my mother will never let me out of her sight again if she finds out.” Persephone paused. “What if she can see it when she looks at me? What if she knows I’m not the virginal goddess she’s always wanted?”
Hecate chuckled. “No god has the power to determine if you are a virgin.”
“Not a god, but a mother.”
Hecate frowned. “Do you regret sleeping with Hades? Forget your mother and the contract—do you regret it?”
“No. I could never regret him.”
“My dear, you are at war with yourself. It has created darkness within you.”
“Darkness?”
“Anger, fear, resentment,” Hecate said. “If you do not free yourself first, no one else can.”
Persephone knew darkness had always existed within her, and it had deepened over the last few months, rising to the surface when she felt challenged or angry. She thought of how she’d threatened that nymph at The Coffee House, how she’d snapped at her mother, how jealous she’d been of Minthe.
Her mother might claim that the mortal world had done this to her—grew the darkness into something tangible—but Persephone knew otherwise. It had always been there, a dark seed, fueling her dreams and her passions, and Hades had roused it, charmed it, fed it.
Let me coax the darkness from you—I will help you shape it.
And she had let him.
“When did you feel life for the first time?” Hecate asked, curious.
“After Hades and I…” she didn’t need to finish her sentence.
“Hmm.” The Goddess of Magic tapped her chin. “I think, perhaps, the God of the Dead has created life within you.”
