Hades’ driver was a cyclops.
She tried not to look so surprised when she saw the creature standing in front of a black Lexus outside Nevernight. He was not like the cyclopes depicted in history. They had been beastly creatures—large like a mountain, layered with rock-hard muscle, and fanged. This man was taller than Hades and all legs, with broad shoulders and a thin build. His eye was hooded but kind, and he smiled when he saw Persephone.
Hades had insisted on escorting Persephone outside. She was not eager to be seen in public with the god, though she wasn’t so sure that thought had crossed Hades’ mind. He was probably more concerned about getting her off his premises as soon as possible so he could get some rest…or whatever he’d been about to do before she interrupted.
“Lady Persephone, this is Antoni,” Hades said. “He will ensure you make it home safe.”
Persephone raised a brow at the God of the Underworld. “Am I in danger, my lord?”
“Just a precaution. I wouldn’t want your mother banging down my door before she has a reason to.”
She has a reason to now, she thought angrily, and the mark on her wrist pulsed, sending a wave of sensation through her. She met his stare, intending to glare and communicate her anger, but she found it difficult to think at all. The God of the Dead had eyes like the universe—vibrant, alive, vast. She was lost in them and all they promised.
She was thankful when Antoni distracted her from those dangerous thoughts. Nothing good would come out of finding Hades interesting. Hadn’t she learned that already?
“My lady,” Antoni said, opening the rear car door.
“My lord.” She nodded to Hades as she twisted from him and slid into the black leather interior.
Antoni shut her door carefully and then folded himself into the driver’s seat. They were on the road quickly, and it took everything in her power not to look back. She wondered how long Hades stood there before returning to his tower—if he was laughing at her boldness and her failure.
She stared down at the flashy bracelet that covered the black mark. In this light the gold looked brassy and cheap. She pulled it off and examined the markings on her skin. The only thing she could think to be thankful for at this moment was that the mark was small enough and placed where it could be easily hidden.
Create life in the Underworld.
Was there even life in the Underworld? Persephone knew nothing about Hades’ realm, and in all her studies, she had never found descriptions of the land of the dead—just details of its geography, and even those seemed to conflict. She supposed she would find out tomorrow, though the idea of returning to Nevernight to make the descent into the Underworld filled her with anxiety.
She groaned. Just when everything seemed to be working out for her, too.
“Will you be returning to visit Lord Hades?” Antoni asked, glancing in the rearview mirror. The cyclops had a pleasant voice, warm and spiced.
“I’m afraid I will,” Persephone said absently.
“I hope you’ll find him pleasing. Our lord is often alone.”
Persephone found those words strange, especially in light of the jealous Minthe. “He doesn’t seem so alone to me.”
“Such is the case with the Divine, but I am afraid he trusts very few. If you ask me, he needs a wife.”
Persephone blushed. “I am certain Lord Hades isn’t interested in settling down.”
“You’d be surprised by what the God of the Dead is interested in,” Antoni replied.
Persephone didn’t want to know Hades’ interests. She already felt like she knew too many, and none of them were good.
Persephone watched the cyclops from her seat in the back.
“How long have you been in service to Hades?”
“The Three freed my kind from Tartarus after we were placed there by Cronos,” he replied. “And so we have repaid the favor by serving Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades from time to time.”
“As a driver?” She didn’t mean to sound so repulsed, but it seemed a menial task.
Antoni laughed. “Yes, but our kind are great builders and blacksmiths, too. We have crafted gifts for the three and shall continue.”
“But that was so long ago. Surely you’ve repaid their favor?” Persephone asked.
“When the God of the Dead gives you life, it is a favor that will never be repaid.”
Persephone frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“You have never been to Tartarus, so I don’t expect that you will.” He paused, then added, “Do not misunderstand. My service to Hades is my choice, and of all the gods, I am glad to serve him. He is not like the other Divine.”
Persephone really wanted to know what that meant, because from what she knew about Hades, he was the worst of the Divine.
Antoni arrived outside her apartment and squeezed out of the driver’s seat to open her door.
“Oh, you don’t have to—I can open my own door,” she said.
He smiled. “It is my pleasure, Lady Persephone.”
She started to ask him not call her that, but then realized he was using her title, as if he knew she were a goddess, yet she wore her glamour. “How did you—”
“Lord Hades called you Lady Persephone,” he explained. “So I will, too.”
“Please…it’s not necessary.”
His smiled widened. “I think you should get used to it, Lady Persephone, especially if you visit us often, as I hope you will.”
He shut the door and bowed his head. Persephone wandered to her apartment in a daze, turning to watch as Antoni drove away. This day had been long and bizarre thanks to the God of the Dead.
There was no reprieve from it, either, because Lexa stood in the kitchen when Persephone came inside—and pounced.
“Uh, whose Lexus dropped you off in front of our lame apartment?” she asked.
Persephone wanted to lie and claim that someone from her internship had dropped her off, but she knew Lexa wouldn’t believe that—she was supposed to be home two hours ago, and her best friend had just watched as she’d literally been chauffeured to their home.
“Well…you’re never going to believe this but…Hades.”
While she could admit to that, she wasn’t ready to tell Lexa about the contract or the mark on her wrist.
Lexa dropped the mug she was holding. Persephone flinched as it hit the floor and shattered. “Are you kidding?” Persephone shook her head and moved to grab a broom; Lexa followed. “Like…the Hades? God of the Dead Hades? Owner of Nevernight Hades?”
“Yes, Lexa. Who else?”
“How?” she sputtered. “Why?
Persephone started sweeping up the ceramic pieces. “It was for my job.” It wasn’t technically a lie. She could call it research.
“And you met Hades? You saw him in the flesh?”
Persephone shivered at the word, recalling Hades’ haphazard appearance. “Yeah.” She turned away from Lexa and grabbed the dustpan, trying to hide the furious blush staining her cheeks.
“What does he look like? Details. Spill!”
Persephone handed Lexa the dustpan and she held it as Persephone swept up the shattered mug. “I…don’t know where to begin.”
Lexa smiled. “Start with his eyes.”
Persephone sighed. It felt intimate to describe Hades, and part of her wanted to keep him all to herself, though she was well aware she was only describing a toned-down version of the god—she had yet to see him in his true form.
There was a strange anticipation that followed that thought, and she realized she was eager to know the god in his Divinity. Would his horns be as black as his eyes and hair? Would they curl on either side of his head like a ram’s, or reach into the air, making him even taller?
“He’s handsome,” she said, though even that word didn’t do him justice. It wasn’t just his looks, it was his presence. “He’s…power.”
“Someone has a crush.” The smug smirk on Lexa’s face reminded Persephone that she was too focused on what the god looked like and not enough on what he did.
“What? No. No. Look, Hades is handsome. I’m not blind, but I can’t condone what he does.”
“What do you mean?”
“The bargains, Lex!” Persephone reminded Lexa of what they’d learned from Adonis at Nevernight. “He preys upon desperate mortals.”
She shrugged. “Well, you could ask Hades about it.”
“We’re not friends, Lexa.” They would never be friends.
Then Lexa bounced on her feet. “Oh! What if you wrote about him? You could investigate his bargains with mortals! How scandalous!”
It was scandalous—not only because of the content, but because it would mean writing an article about a god, something very few did for fear of retaliation.
But Persephone wasn’t afraid of retaliation; she didn’t care that Hades was a god.
“Looks like you have another reason to visit Hades,” Lexa said, and Persephone broke into a smile.
Hades had offered her easy access. When he’d pressed his lips to her forehead, he’d said it was for her benefit. She wouldn’t have to knock to enter Nevernight again.
The God of the Underworld would definitely regret meeting the Goddess of Spring—and she looked forward to that day. She was Divine, too. Though she had no power of her own, she could write, and maybe that made her the perfect person to expose him. After all, if anything happened to her, Hades would feel Demeter’s wrath.
***
On her way to class at New Athens University, Persephone stopped to purchase an assortment of bangles. Since she would have to wear Hades’ mark until she fulfilled their contract, she wanted to accessorize her outfits accordingly. Today she wore a stack of pearls, a classic touch to compliment her bright pink skirt and white button-up.
Her heels clicked against the concrete sidewalk as she rounded the corner and the university came into view. Each step meant time was passing, which meant an hour, a minute, a second closer to her return to Nevernight.
Today Hades would take her to the Underworld. She’d stayed up into the night considering how she was to fulfill their contract. She’d asked if he wanted her to plant a garden, and he’d shrugged—shrugged—that is one way, he’d said.
What was that supposed to mean, and what other ways could she possibly create life? Wasn’t that why he’d chosen this challenge—because she had no power to fulfill the task?
She doubted it was because the Lord Hades wanted beautiful gardens in his desolate realm. He was interested in punishment, after all, and from what she’d heard and witnessed from the god, he did not intend the Underworld to be a place for peace and pretty flowers.
Despite how angry she was with herself and Hades, her emotions were at odds. She was both intrigued and nervous to descend into the god’s realm.
Mostly, though, she was afraid.
What if she failed?
No, she closed her eyes against the thought. She couldn’t fail. She wouldn’t. She would see the Underworld tonight and make a plan. Just because she couldn’t coax a bloom from the ground with magic did not mean she couldn’t use other methods. Mortal methods. She would just have to be careful. She would need gloves—it was that or kill every plant she touched—and while the garden ruminated, she would look for other ways to fulfill the contract.
Or break it.
She did not know much about Hades except what her mother and mortals believed about him. He was private, he did not like intrusions, and he did not like the media.
He was really going to dislike what she had planned for today, and suddenly she had the thought—could she make Hades mad enough that he would release her from this contract?
Persephone passed through the entrance of New Athens University, a set of six columns crowned with a piece of pointed stone, and entered the courtyard. The Library of Artemis rose in front of her, a pantheon-style building that she had taken pleasure in exploring her Freshman year. The campus was easy to navigate, laid out like a seven-point star—the library being one of the seven points.
Persephone always cut through the center of the star, which was the Garden of the Gods, an acre of land full of the favored flowers of the Olympians, and marble statues. Though Persephone had walked this path many times to class, today felt different. The garden was like an oppressor, and the flowers were enemies, their smells mixing in the air—the thick scent of honeysuckle mingled with the sweet smell of the rose accosting her senses.
Did Hades expect her to grow something this grand? Would he really sentence her to life in the Underworld if she failed to deliver his request in six months?
She knew the answer. Hades was a strict god; he believed in rules and boundaries, and he’d set them yesterday, not even fearing the threat of her mother’s wrath.
Persephone passed Poseidon’s pool and its towering statue of a very naked Ares with his helm atop his head and shield in hand. It wasn’t the only statue of a naked god in the garden, and normally she gave it little thought, but today her gaze was drawn to the large horns atop Ares’ head. Her own felt heavy under the glamour she wore. She’d heard a rumor when she moved to New Athens that horns were the source of the Divine’s power.
Persephone wished that were true. It wasn’t even about having power now. It was about freedom.
“It’s just that the Fates have chosen a different path for you, my flower,” Demeter had said when Persephone’s magic never manifested.
“What path?” Persephone asked. “There is no path, only the walls of your glass prison! Do you keep me hidden away because you’re ashamed?”
“I keep you safe because you have no power, my flower. There is a difference.”
Persephone still wasn’t sure what sort of path the Fates had decided for her, but she knew she could be safe without being imprisoned, and she guessed at some point Demeter had agreed, because she’d let Persephone go—albeit, on a long leash.
She tensed when she smelled her mother’s magic—bitter and floral. Demeter was near.
“Mother,” Persephone said, when Demeter appeared beside her.
She wore a human glamour—not something she often did. It wasn’t that Demeter disliked mortals—she was incredibly protective of her followers—she merely knew her status as a goddess. Demeter’s mortal mask was not so different from her Divine appearance. She kept the same smooth hair, the same bright green eyes, the same luminous skin, but her antlers were veiled. She chose a fitted emerald dress and gold heels. To onlookers, she had all the appearances of a sharp businesswoman.
“What are you doing here?” Persephone asked.
“Where were you yesterday?” Demeter’s voice was curt.
“It sounds like you already think you know the answer, so why don’t you tell me?”
“Do not treat this with sarcasm, my dear. This is very serious—why were you at Nevernight?”
Persephone tried to keep her heart from racing. Had a nymph seen her? “How do you know I was at Nevernight?”
“Never mind how I knew. I asked you a question.”
“I went for work, Mother. I must return today, too.”
“Absolutely not,” Demeter said. “Need I remind you a condition of your time here was that you stay away from the gods? Especially Hades.”
She said his name like a curse, and Persephone flinched. “Mother, I have to do this. It’s my job.”
“Then you will quit.”
“No.”
Demeter’s eyes widened, and her mouth hung open. Persephone was sure that in all her twenty-four years she’d never told her mother no. “What did you say?”
“I like my life, Mother. I’ve worked hard to get where I am.”
“Persephone, you do not need to live this mortal life. It is…changing you.”
“Good. That’s what I want. I want to be me, whatever that is, and you’re going to have to accept that.”
Demeter’s face was stone cold, and Persephone knew what she was thinking—I do not have to accept anything but what I want.
“I have heeded your warnings about the gods, especially Hades,” Persephone added. “What are you afraid of? That I’ll allow him to seduce me? Have more faith in me.”
Demeter paled and hissed, “This is serious, Persephone.”
“I am being serious, Mother.” She checked her watch. “I have to go. I’ll be late for class.”
Persephone sidestepped her mother and left the garden. She could feel Demeter’s gaze burning her back as she went.
She would regret standing up for herself, she was sure of it. Question was, what punishment would the Goddess of Harvest choose?
***
Class went by in a blur of furious notes and droning lectures. Normally Persephone was attentive, but she had a lot on her mind. Her conversation with her mother was gnawing away at her insides.
Though Persephone was proud she stood up for herself, she knew Demeter could whisk her away with a snap of her fingers back to the glass greenhouse. She was also thinking about her conversation with Lexa, and how she could start research for her article. She knew an interview would be essential, but she wasn’t eager to be in an enclosed space with Hades again.
She was still feeling off at lunch, and Lexa noticed.
“What’s wrong?”
She considered how to tell her friend her mother was spying on her. Finally, she said, “I found out my mom’s been tracking me. She…sorta found out about Nevernight.”
Lexa rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t she realize you’re an adult?”
“I don’t think my mother has ever seen me as an adult.” And she didn’t think she ever would, evident by her use of the nickname Kore.
“Don’t let her make you feel bad for having fun, Persephone. Definitely don’t let her keep you from doing what you want.”
But it was harder than that. Obeying meant she could stay in the mortal world, and that’s what Persephone wanted, even if it wasn’t as fun.
After lunch, Lexa came with Persephone to the Acropolis. She claimed it was to see where she worked, but Persephone suspected she wanted a glimpse of Adonis—and she got one, because he intercepted them as they passed the front desk.
“Hey,” he smiled. “Lexa, right? It’s good to see you again.”
Gods. She couldn’t blame Lexa one bit for falling under Adonis’s spell. This man was charming, and it helped that he was remarkably handsome.
Lexa grinned. “I couldn’t believe it when Persephone told me she worked with you. What a coincidence.”
He looked at Persephone. “It was definitely a pleasant surprise. You know what they say, small world, huh?”
“Adonis, a moment?” Demetri called from his doorway, and they all looked in his direction.
“Coming!” Adonis glanced back at Lexa. “Good to see you. Let’s all go out sometime.”
“Careful, we’ll hold you to that,” she warned.
“I hope you do.”
Adonis hurried off to join Demetri, and Lexa looked at Persephone. “Tell me—is he as handsome as Hades?”
Persephone didn’t mean to scoff, but there was no comparison. She also didn’t mean to offer a resounding, “No.”
But she did.
Lexa raised a brow and smiled, then leaned forward and pecked Persephone on the cheek. “I’ll see you tonight. Oh, and make sure you follow up with Adonis. He’s right—we should go out together.”
With Lexa gone, Persephone deposited her belongings at her desk and went to make coffee. Post lunch, she was feeling tired, and she needed all her energy for what she was about to do.
When she returned to her desk, Adonis stepped out of Demetri’s office. “So, about this weekend.”
“This weekend?” she echoed.
“I thought we could go to the Trials,” he said. “You know, with Lexa. I’ll invite Aro, Xeres, and Sybil.”
The Trials were a series of competitions whose contestants hoped to represent their territory in the upcoming Pentathlon. Persephone had never been, but she’d seen and read coverage in the past. “Oh…well, actually, before we discuss that, I was hoping you might help me with something.”
Adonis brightened. “Sure, what’s up?
“Has anyone here ever written about the God of the Dead?”
Adonis laughed, then stopped himself. “Oh, you’re serious?”
“Very.”
“I mean, it’s kind of hard.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not like Hades forces these humans into gambling with him. They do so willingly and then face the consequences.”
“That doesn’t mean the consequences are right or even fair,” Persephone argued.
“No, but no one wants to end up in Tartarus, Persephone.”
That seemed to contradict what Demetri had to say on her first day—that New Athens News always sought truth. To say she was disappointed was an understatement, and Adonis must have noticed.
“Look…if you’re serious about this, I can send you what I have on him.”
“You’d do that?” she asked.
“Of course,” he grinned. “On one condition—you let me read the article you write.”
She had no problem sending Adonis her article, and welcomed the feedback. “Deal.”
Adonis delivered. Shortly after he returned to his desk, she received an email with notes and voice recordings detailing deals the god had made with several mortals. Not everyone who wrote or called were victims of Hades; some were families of victims whose lives had been cut short due to a lost bargain.
In total, she counted seventy-seven different cases. As she read and listened, a common thread emerged from interviews: all the mortals who’d gone to Hades for help were in desperate need of something—money or health or love. Hades would agree to grant whatever the mortal asked if they won against him at a game of his choice.
But if they lost, they were at his mercy. And Hades seemed to delight in offering an impossible challenge.
An hour in, Adonis dropped by to check on her. “Finding any of it useful?”
“I want to interview Hades,” she said. “Today, if possible.”
She felt impatient—the sooner she got this article out, the better.
Adonis paled. “You want to…what?”
“I’d like to give Hades a chance to offer his side of things,” she explained. Everything Adonis had on him was from the perspective of the mortal, and she was curious how the god saw bargains and mortals and their vices. “You know, before I write my article.”
Adonis blinked a couple times and finally found his words. “That’s not how this works, Persephone. You can’t just show up at a god’s place of business and demand an audience. There’s a…there are rules.”
She raised a brow and crossed her arms over her chest. “Rules?”
“Yes, rules. We have to submit a request to his PR manager.”
“A request that will be denied, I’m assuming?”
Adonis glanced away, shifting on his feet as if Persephone’s questioning made him uncomfortable.
“Look, if we go there, at least we can say we tried to reach him for comment and he denied us. I can’t write this article without trying, and I don’t want to wait.”
Not when I can enter Nevernight at will, she thought. Hades would regret kissing her when he saw how she planned to use his favor.
After a moment, Adonis sighed. “Okay. I’ll let Demetri know we’re heading out.”
He started to turn, and Persephone stopped him. “You haven’t…told Demetri about this, have you?”
“Not that you plan to write this article.”
“Can we keep it a secret? For now?”
Adonis smiled. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want, Persephone.”
***
Adonis parked on the curb in front of Nevernight, his red Lexus glaring against the black backdrop of Hades’ obsidian tower. Even though Persephone was determined to follow through with this interview, she had a moment of doubt. Was she being too bold in assuming she could even use Hades’ favor in this way?
Adonis came up beside her. “Looks different in the daylight, huh?”
“Yeah,” she said absently. The tower did look different—harsher. A jagged cut in a sparkling city.
Adonis tried the door, but it was locked, so he knocked and offered no time for someone to answer before retreating. “Looks like no one’s home.”
He definitely did not want to be here, and Persephone wondered why he hesitated to confront the god when he came to his club so often at night.
As Adonis turned away from the door, Persephone tried it—and it opened.
“Yes!” She hissed to herself.
Adonis looked back at her, puzzled. “How did you…it was locked!”
She shrugged. “Maybe you didn’t pull hard enough. Come on.”
As she disappeared into Nevernight she heard Adonis say, “I swear it was locked.”
She descended the stairs, entering the now-familiar club. Her heels clicked against the glossy black floor and she looked up into the darkness of the tall ceiling, knowing that this floor could be seen from Hades office.
“Hello? Anybody home?” Adonis called.
Persephone cringed and resisted the urge to tell Adonis to shut up. She’d had it in her head that she’d go upstairs to Hades’ office and catch him off guard, though she wasn’t so sure that was a great idea. She considered yesterday, when he’d answered the door disheveled.
At least if she surprised him, she might learn the truth about whatever was going on between him and Minthe.
As if summoned by her thoughts, the redheaded nymph emerged from the darkness of the room, dressed in a fitted black dress and heels. She was just as lovely as Persephone remembered. The Goddess of Spring had met and befriended many nymphs, but none of them looked quite as severe as Minthe; she wondered if that was the result of serving the God of the Underworld.
“Can I help you?” Minthe had an inviting and smoky voice, but it didn’t hide the sharpness of her tone.
“Hi,” Adonis brushed past Persephone, suddenly finding his confidence and extending his hand. Persephone was surprised and slightly frustrated when Minthe took his hand and offered a smile. “Adonis.”
“Minthe.”
“Do you work here?” he asked.
“I am Lord Hades’ assistant,” she replied.
Persephone looked away and rolled her eyes. Assistant seemed like a loaded word.
“Really?” Adonis sounded genuinely surprised. “But you’re so beautiful.”
It really wasn’t Adonis’s fault. Nymphs had that effect on people, but Persephone was on a mission and growing impatient.
Adonis held Minthe’s hand longer than necessary until Persephone cleared her throat, and he dropped it.
“Uh…and this is Persephone.” He gestured to her. Minthe said nothing, she didn’t even nod. “We’re from New Athens News.”
“So, you’re a reporter?” Her eyes flashed, and Adonis probably took it as interest in his occupation, but Persephone knew otherwise.
“We’re actually here to speak with Hades,” she said. “Is he around?”
Minthe’s eyes burned into her. “Do you have an appointment with Lord Hades?”
“No.”
“Then I’m afraid you cannot speak to him.”
“Oh, well, that’s too bad,” Adonis said. “We’ll come back when we have an appointment. Persephone?”
She ignored Adonis, glaring at Minthe. “Inform your lord that Persephone is here and would like to speak with him.” It was a command, but Minthe smiled, unfazed, looking at Adonis.
“Your counterpart must be new and therefore ignorant to how this works. See, Lord Hades does not give interviews.”
“Of course,” Adonis wrapped his fingers around Persephone’s wrist. “Let’s go, Persephone. I told you, there is a protocol we need to follow.”
Persephone looked at Adonis’s fingers wrapped around her wrist and then met his gaze. She wasn’t sure what look she gave him, but her eyes burned, and anger rose hot in her blood. “Let. Me. Go.”
His eyes widened and he released her. She turned her attention back to Minthe.
“I am not ignorant to how this works,” Persephone said. “But I demand to speak with Hades.”
“Demand?” Minthe crossed her arms over her chest, brows rising to her hairline, and smiled wickedly. “Fine. I’ll tell him you demand to see him, but only because I will take great satisfaction in hearing him turn you away.”
She twisted on her heels and melted into the darkness. Persephone wondered for a moment if she really was going to tell Hades, or send an ogre to kick them out.
“Why would Hades know your name?” Adonis asked.
She didn’t look at him as she replied, “I met him the same night I met you.”
She could feel his questions building in the air between them. She just hoped he wouldn’t ask them.
Minthe returned looking pissed, and that filled Persephone with glee, especially since the nymph had been so sure Hades would turn them away.
She lifted her chin and said tightly, “Follow me.”
Persephone thought about telling Minthe she didn’t need a guide, but Adonis was here, and he was already curious. She didn’t want him knowing she had been here yesterday, or about her contract with the God of the Dead.
Persephone offered Adonis a glance before following Minthe up the same set of twisting stairs she’d followed Hades up yesterday, and to the ornate gold and black doors of his office. Adonis offered a low whistle.
Today Persephone focused on the gold rather than the flowers. She supposed it was fitting he would choose gold; he was the God of Precious Metals, after all.
Minthe didn’t knock before she entered Hades’ office and strode ahead, hips swaying. Perhaps she hoped to hold Hades’ attention—but Persephone felt his gaze on her the moment she entered the room. He tracked her like prey from his place near the windows, and she wondered how long he had been watching them below.
Judging by how rigid he stood, she guessed he’d been there a while.
Unlike yesterday when she had demanded entrance into Nevernight, Hades’ appearance was pristine. He was an elegant chasm of darkness, and she might have thought to be terrified if she wasn’t so angry with him.
Minthe paused and nodded. “Persephone, my lord.”
Her tone had taken on that sultry edge again. Persephone imagined she used it when she wanted to bend men to her will. Perhaps she forgot Hades was a god. She shifted, turning to face Persephone again, standing just behind the god. “And…her friend, Adonis.”
It was at the mention of Adonis that Hades’ eyes finally left Persephone, and she felt released from a spell. Hades’ gaze slid to her counterpart and darkened before he nodded to Minthe. “You are dismissed, Minthe. Thank you.”
Once she was gone, Hades moved to fill a glass with amber liquid from a crystal decanter. He did not ask them to sit or if they wanted any.
That wasn’t a good sign. He intended this meeting to be very short.
“To what do I owe this…intrusion?” he asked.
Persephone’s eyes narrowed at the word. She wanted to ask him the same—because that’s what he’d done, intruded into her life.
“Lord Hades,” she said, and took her notebook out of her purse—where she’d written down the names of every victim who had called the paper with a complaint. “Adonis and I are from New Athens News. We have been investigating several complaints about you and wondered if you might comment.”
He lifted the glass to his lips and sipped, but said nothing. Beside her, Adonis offered a nervous laugh. “Persephone is investigating. I’m just…here for moral support.”
She glared at him. Coward.
“Is that a list of my offenses?” His eyes were dark and void of emotion. She wondered if this was how he welcomed souls into his world.
She ignored his question and read a few of the names on the list. After a moment, she looked up. “Do you remember these people?”
He took a languid sip of his liquor. “I remember every soul.”
“And every bargain?”
His eyes narrowed and he studied her a moment. “The point, Persephone. Get to the point. You’ve had no trouble of it in the past, why now?”
She felt Adonis look at her, and she glared at Hades, her face flush with anger. He made it sound like they’d known each other far longer than two days. “You agree to offer mortals whatever they desire if they gamble with you and win.”
“Not all mortals and not all desires,” he said.
“Oh, forgive me, you are selective in the lives you destroy.”
His face hardened. “I do not destroy lives.”
“You only make the terms of your contract known after you’ve won! That’s deception.”
“The terms are clear; the details are mine to determine. It is not deception, as you call it. It is a gamble.”
“You challenge their vice. You lay their darkest secrets bare—”
“I challenge what is destroying their life. It is their choice to conquer or succumb.”
She stared at him. He spoke in such a matter-of-fact tone, as if he’d had this conversation thousands of times. “And how to do you know their vice?”
It was the answer she had been waiting for, and at the question, a wicked smile crossed Hades’ face. It transformed him and hinted at the god beneath the glamour. “I see to the soul,” he said. “What burdens it, what corrupts it, what destroys it—and challenge it.”
But what do you see when you look at me?
She hated to think he knew her secrets and she knew nothing about him.
And then she snapped. “You are the worst sort of god!”
Hades flinched, but quickly recovered, eyes flashing with anger.
“Persephone—” Adonis warned, but Hades’ warm baritone quickly drowned him out.
“I am helping these mortals.” He took a deliberate step toward her.
“How? By offering an impossible bargain? Abstain from addiction or lose your life? That’s absolutely ridiculous, Hades.”
“I have had success,” he argued.
“Oh? And what is your success? I suppose it doesn’t matter to you as you win either way, right? All souls come to you at some point.”
His gaze turned stony and he moved to close the distance between them, but before he could, Adonis stepped between him and Persephone. Hades’ eyes ignited, and with a flick of his wrist, Adonis went limp and collapsed to the floor.
“What did you do?” Persephone started to reach for him, but Hades grabbed her wrists, keeping her on her feet and drawing her into him. She held her breath, not wanting to be this close, where she could feel his warmth and smell his scent.
His breath caressed her lips as he spoke. “I’m assuming you don’t want him to hear what I have to say to you—don’t worry, I won’t request a favor when I erase his memory.”
“Oh, how kind of you,” she mocked, craning her neck to meet his gaze. He bent over her, his hold on her wrists the only thing keeping her from falling onto her back.
“What liberties you take with my favor, Lady Persephone.” His voice was low—too low for this kind of conversation. It was the voice of a lover—warm and impassioned.
“You never specified how I had to use your favor.”
His eyes narrowed a fraction. “I didn’t, though I expected you to know better than to drag this mortal into my realm.”
It was her turn to narrow her eyes. “Do you know him?”
Hades ignored the question. “You plan to write a story about me? Tell me, Lady Persephone, will you detail your experiences with me? How you recklessly invited me to your table, begged me to teach you cards—”
“I did not beg!”
“Will you speak of how you flush from your pretty head to your toes in my presence and how I make you lose your breath—”
“Shut up!”
As he spoke, he leaned closer. “Will you speak of the favor I have given you, or are you too ashamed?”
“Stop!”
She pulled away, and he released her, but he was not through. “You may blame me for the choices you made, but it changes nothing. You are mine for six months—and that means, if you write about me, I will ensure there are consequences.”
She tried hard to keep from shivering at his possessive words. He was calm as he spoke, and it unnerved her because she had the distinct impression he was anything but calm on the inside.
“It is true what they say about you,” she said, her chest rising and falling. “You heed no prayer. You offer no mercy.”
Hades’ face remained blank. “No one prays to the God of the Dead, my lady, and when they do, it is too late.”
Hades waved his hand, and Adonis awoke, inhaling sharply. He sat up quickly and looked around. When his eyes landed on Hades, he scrambled to his feet. “S-sorry,” he said. He looked at the floor and didn’t meet Hades’ gaze.
“I will answer no more of your questions,” Hades said. “Minthe will show you out.”
Hades turned away, and Minthe appeared instantly, hair and eyes aflame, dead set on Persephone. She had the fleeting thought that she and Hades would make quite the intimidating pair and she didn’t like it.
“Persephone,” Hades’ voice commanded her attention as she and Adonis turned to leave. She paused at the door and looked back. “I shall add your name to my guest list this evening.”
He still expected her tonight? Her heart fell into her stomach. What sort of punishment would he add to her sentence for her indiscretion? She had the contract, and she already owed him one favor.
She stared at him for a moment and all his darkness seemed to blur together, except for his eyes, which burned like a fire in the night.
She strode from the office, ignoring Adonis’s shocked expression.
Once they were outside Nevernight, Adonis muttered. “Well, that was interesting.”
Persephone was barely listening. She was too distracted by what had transpired in Hades’ office, appalled by his misuse of power and his corrupt belief that he was helping.
“You said you only met Hades once before?” Adonis asked as they got into his car.
“Huh?”
“Hades, you’ve met him once before?”
She stared at him a moment. Hades had said he would erase Adonis’s memories, but at that question, she wondered if it had worked.
“Yes,” she admitted hesitantly. “Why?”
He shrugged. “There just seemed to be a lot of tension between you two, like…you have a history.”
How was it that a few hours of history between them felt like lifetimes? Why had she invited Hades to the table? She knew she’d regret that decision for the rest of her life. This kind of deal had claws, and there was no way she was getting out of this without scars. There was too much at stake, too much that was forbidden. Persephone’s freedom was wrapped up in this—and the threat came from all sides.
“Persephone?” Adonis asked.
She took a breath. “No. We don’t have history.”
