What do you wear on a tour of the Underworld?
It was a question Persephone had been asking herself since she left Hades’ office earlier that day. She should have asked more questions—would they be hiking? What was the weather like below? She was tempted to wear yoga pants just to get a reaction out of him, but then she remembered she was going to Nevernight first, and they had a dress code.
In the end, she picked a short silver dress with a low neckline and heels that sparkled. She stepped off the bus in front of Hades’ club and approached the entrance, ignoring jealous stares from the impossibly long line. The waiting bouncer was not Duncan, but he was still an ogre. Persephone wondered how Hades had punished the monster for his treatment of her. She had to admit, she’d been surprised by the God of the Dead in that moment; he hadn’t defended her because she was a goddess, he’d defended her because she was a woman.
And despite his many flaws, she had to respect that.
“My name is—” she started.
“You need not introduce yourself, my lady,” the ogre said.
Persephone reddened, and hoped that no one in the line closest to her could hear. The ogre reached and opened the door, bowing his head. How did this creature know her? Was it the favor Hades had bestowed upon her? Was it visible somehow?
She met the ogre’s gaze. “What is your name?”
The creature looked surprised. “Mekonnen, my lady.”
“Mekonnen,” she smiled. “Call me Persephone, please.”
His eyes widened. “My lady—I couldn’t. Lord Hades, he would—”
“I will speak with Lord Hades.” She placed her hand on the ogre’s arm. “Call me Persephone.”
Mekonnen offered a crooked smile and then swept his hand out in a dramatic fashion, bowing at the waist. “Persephone.”
She laughed and shook her head. She’d talk to him later about the bowing, but for now, if he never called her ‘my lady’ again, she’d see that as a victory.
She entered the club and made her way to the floor, but just as she came to the end of the steps, a Satyr approached. He was handsome in his black button-up, with shaggy dark hair, a goatee, and dark horns that curled out of his head.
“Lady Persephone?” he asked.
“Just Persephone,” she said. “Please.”
“Apologies, Lady Persephone, I speak as Lord Hades commands.”
Was she going to have this conversation with everyone? “Lord Hades has no say over how I am to be addressed.” She smiled. “Persephone it is.”
The corners of his lips curled. “I like you already. I am Ilias. Lord Hades wishes me to apologize on his behalf. He is otherwise engaged and has advised me to show you to his office. He promises he will not be long.”
She wondered what was holding him up. Perhaps he was sealing another terrible contract with a mortal…or with Minthe. “I’ll just wait at the bar.”
“I’m afraid that will not do.”
“Another command?” she asked.
Ilias offered an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid this one must be obeyed, Persephone.”
That annoyed her, but it wasn’t Ilias’ fault. She smiled at the Satyr. “Only for you, then. Lead the way.”
She followed the Satyr as he cut through the thickening crowd and along the familiar path to Hades’ office. She was surprised when he followed her inside. He walked to the bar where Hades had served himself earlier in the day. “Can I get you anything? Wine, Perhaps?”
“Yes, please—a cab, if you have it.” If she was going to spend the evening with Hades and in the Underworld, she wanted a drink in her hand.
“Coming right up!”
The Satyr was so cheerful, she found it hard to believe he worked for Hades. Then again, Antoni had seemed to revere the god. She wondered if Ilias felt the same.
She watched as he selected a bottle of wine and began to uncork it. After a moment, she asked, “Why do you serve Hades?”
“I do not serve Lord Hades. I work for him. There is a difference.”
Fair enough. “Why do you work for him, then?”
“Lord Hades is very generous,” the Satyr explained. “Don’t believe everything you hear about him. Most of it isn’t true.”
That piqued her interest. “Tell me something that isn’t true.”
The Satyr chuckled as he poured her wine and slid the glass across the table.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He bowed his head a little, placing his hand against his chest. When he looked at her again, she was surprised by his seriousness. “They say Hades is protective of his realm, and while that is true, it isn’t about power. He cares for his people, protects them, and he takes it personally if anyone is harmed. If you belong to him, he will tear the world apart to save you.”
She shivered. “But I don’t belong to him.”
Ilias smiled. “Yes, you do, or I wouldn’t be serving you wine in his office.” He bowed. “If you require anything, you must simply speak my name.”
With that, Ilias was gone, and Persephone was left in the silence. It was quiet in Hades’ office, the fireplace didn’t even pop. She wondered if this was a form of punishment in Tartarus. It would definitely have driven her insane.
After a moment, she walked to the wall of windows that overlooked the main floor of the club. She had the strange feeling that this was how the Olympians once felt when they lived in the clouds and looked down upon the Earth.
She studied the mortals below. At first glance, she saw clusters of friends and couples, their worries banished by the drink in their hand. For them, this was a night of fun and euphoria—not too unlike the one she had on her first visit. For others, though, their visit to Nevernight meant hope.
She picked them out one-by-one. They gave themselves away by their longing glances at the spiral staircase that led to the second floor where Hades made his deals. She noted the slumped shoulders of the stressed, the glistening sweat on the brows of the anxious, the rigid posture of the desperate.
The sight made her sad, but they would be warned soon enough not to fall prey to Hades’ games. She would make sure of it.
She turned from the window, and approached Hades’ desk; the huge piece of obsidian looked as if it had been cleaved from the earth and polished. Persephone wondered if it had come from the Underworld.
She trailed her fingers along its smooth surface. Unlike her desk, which was already covered in sticky notes and personalized with photos, his was free of clutter. She frowned. That was disappointed; she’d hoped to glean something useful from the contents, but this one didn’t even have drawers.
She sighed and turned around, remembering that Minthe had appeared from a passage behind Hades’ desk. Looking at the wall now, there was no indication a door existed. She stepped closer, leaning forward to inspect the wall—seamless.
The door probably responded to Hades’ magic, which meant it should respond to her favor. She ran her hand over the smooth surface—until her hand sank into the wall. She gasped and recoiled quickly, heart beating hard in her chest. She inspected her hand front and back, but found no wounds.
Curiosity overwhelmed her then, and she looked over her shoulder before she tried again, pushing farther into the wall. It gave way like liquid, and when she stepped through on the other side, she found herself in a hallway lined with crystal chandeliers. The light kept her feet in shadow, and when she took a step forward, she fell and landed hard on something sharp.
The impact took her breath away. Panicked, she inhaled in gasps until her breathing returned to normal. It was then she realized she’d fallen on a step. The light overhead barely touched the outline of a staircase.
Persephone struggled to her feet despite a sharp pain in her side. She took off her pumps and left them behind, making her way down the steps at a steep incline. She kept her hand pressed to her side and the other on the wall, afraid that if she fell again, she’d break her ribs.
By the time Persephone reached even ground, her legs and side ached. Ahead, a blinding but hazy light filtered into a cave-like opening. She stumbled toward it, and walked right into a field of tall, green grass speckled with blooming white flowers. In the distance, an obsidian palace jutted against the sky, beautiful but ominous, like clouds full of lightning and thunder. When she looked behind her, she discovered she’d traveled down a great black mountain.
So, this is the Underworld, she thought. It looked so normal, so beautiful. Like a whole other world beneath the world. The sky here was vast and alight, but she couldn’t spot a sun, and the air was neither warm nor cold, though the breeze that moved the grass and her hair made her shiver. It also carried a mix of scents—sweet florals, spice and ash. That was how Hades smelled, too. She wanted to inhale it, but even shallow breaths hurt after her fall.
She wandered farther from the mouth of the mountain, keeping her arms crossed over her chest, hesitant to touch the delicate white flowers for fear they would wilt. The farther she walked, the angrier she became with Hades.
All around her was lush vegetation. Part of her had wanted the Underworld to be full of ash and smoke and fire, but here she found…life.
Why had Hades charged her with such a task if he already excelled at creating it?
She continued with no destination other than the palace. It was the only thing she could see beyond the huge field. She was surprised no one had come after her yet; she’d heard that Hades had a three-headed dog that guarded the entrance to the Underworld. She wondered if it was her favor that helped her pass into this place unknown.
Except that she sort of wished someone would come along, because the longer she walked and the heavier she breathed, the more her side hurt.
Soon she found her way barred by a river. It was an unsettling body of water, dark and churning, and so wide she could only see the vague coloring of foliage on the other side.
This must be the Styx, she thought. It marked the boundaries of the Underworld and was known to be guarded by Charon, a daimon, also called a guiding spirit. He led souls into the Underworld upon his ferry, but Persephone saw no daimon and no ferry. There were only flowers—an abundance of narcissus spilled over the side of the river.
How was she supposed to cross this? She looked back at the mountain—she’d come too far to turn back now. She was a strong swimmer, except that the pain in her side might slow her down. Aside from the width, it looked rather unassuming—just dark, deep water.
Persephone stepped closer to the bank. It was wet, slippery, and steep. The flowers growing along the incline created a sea of white—a strange contrast against the water, which looked like oil. She tested it with her foot before slipping into the river completely. The water was cold, and her breathing became labored, which made the pain in her side worse.
Just as she set a decent pace, something clamped down on her ankle and pulled. Before she could scream, she was dragged under the water.
Persephone kicked and clawed, but the more she struggled, the tighter the grip and the faster the thing moved, deep into the river. She tried to twist to get a look at what had snatched her, but a spasm of pain made her cry out and water spilled into her mouth and down her throat.
Then something clamped down on her wrist, jerking her roughly as the thing pulling her feet halted. When she looked at what held her wrist, she tried to scream, but inhaled water instead.
It was a corpse. Two vacant eyes stared back at her, bits of skin still clinging to parts of its skeleton face.
She was caught between the two as they pulled her up and down, stretching her body to the point of pain. They were soon joined by two more who took hold of her remaining limbs. Her lungs burned and her chest ached, and she felt pressure building behind her eyes.
I’m going to die in the Underworld.
But then one of the dead let go to attack the others, and the rest followed soon after. Persephone took her chance and swam as fast as she could. She was weak and tired, but she could see Hades’ strange sky brightening the surface of the river above, and the freedom and air it promised motivated her.
She broke the surface just as one of the dead caught up with her. Something sharp bit into her shoulder and dragged her under again. This time, she was saved as someone from the riverbank managed to grab her wrist and drag her from the water, the dead thing wrenching free with a vengeance. A scream tore through her and suddenly she couldn’t take in air.
She felt solid ground beneath her, and a musical voice commanded her to breathe.
She couldn’t—it was a combination of the pain and the exhaustion. Then she felt the press of a mouth against hers as air pushed into her lungs. She rolled over and heaved, water spilling onto the grass. When she was finished, she collapsed onto her back, exhausted.
A man’s face loomed over hers. He reminded her of sunshine with his golden curls and bronzed skin, but it was his eyes she liked the most. They were gold and brimming with curiosity.
“You’re a god,” she said, surprised.
He smiled, showing a set of dimples on either side of his face. “I am.”
“You’re not Hades.”
“No.” He looked amused. “I am Hermes.”
“Ah,” she said, and laid her head back down.
“Ah?”
“Yes, ah.”
He grinned. “So, you’ve heard of me?”
She rolled her eyes. “The God of Trickery and Thieves.”
“I beg your pardon, you forgot trade, commerce, merchants, roads, sports, travelers, athletes, heraldry…”
“How could I have forgotten heraldry?” she asked absently, and then shivered, staring up at the dim sky.
“You’re cold?” he asked.
“Well, I was just pulled from a river.”
He took off his cloak and covered her. The fabric suctioned to her skin, and it was then she remembered that she’d worn that short, silver dress to Nevernight.
She flushed. “Thank you.”
“It is my pleasure,” he said, still watching her. “Shall I guess who you are?”
“Oh yes—entertain yourself,” she said.
Hermes looked serious for a moment and tapped his full lips with his finger. “Hmm. I think you are the Goddess of Sexual Frustration.”
Persephone barked laughter. “I think that’s Aphrodite.”
“Did I say sexual frustration? I meant Hades’ sexual frustration.”
Just as the words were out of his mouth, a blast of raw power threw him back. His body made the ground shake as he landed, tossing up dirt and rock.
Persephone sat up despite the pain and turned to find Hades towering over her in his sharp black suit. His eyes were glimmered darkly and his nostrils flared.
“Why did you do that?” she demanded.
“You try my patience, Goddess, and my favor,” he replied.
“So you are a goddess!” Hermes said triumphantly, rising from the rubble unscathed.
She glared at Hades.
“He will keep your secret, or he will find himself in Tartarus.”
Hermes brushed dirt and rock from his arms and chest. “You know, Hades, not everything has to be a threat. You could try asking once in a while—just like you could have asked me to step away from your goddess here instead of throwing me halfway across the Underworld.”
“I’m not his goddess! And you—” Persephone looked at Hades. Hermes’ brows rose with amusement as she struggled to her feet, because up until now she’d been glaring up at them both from the ground. “You could be nicer to him. He did save me from your river!”
Once she was on her feet, she regretted moving. She felt dizzy and nauseous.
“You wouldn’t have had to be saved from my river if you had waited for me!”
“Right, because you were otherwise engaged,” she rolled her eyes. “Wonder what that means.”
“Shall I get you a dictionary?”
Hermes laughed, and Hades turned on him. “Why are you still here?”
Persephone swayed, and Hades lunged, catching her before she hit the ground. The impact jarred her side, and she moaned.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded.
“I fell on the stairs. I think I…” she took a breath and winced. “I think I bruised my ribs.”
When she met his gaze, she was surprised to see he looked worried. She recalled Ilias’ words from earlier—he takes it personally if anyone is harmed in his realm.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m okay.”
Then Hermes said, “She has a pretty nasty gash on her shoulder, too.”
And the worry she’d seen burned away with his anger. His jaw tightened, and he lifted Persephone into his arms, careful not to jar her.
“Where are we going?”
“To my palace,” he said, and teleported, leaving Hermes alone on the riverbank.
