Persephone, Sybil, and Zofie walked down the street to Ambrosia & Nectar for lunch, grateful for the warmth once they were inside. Despite not being far from Alexandria Tower, the café had felt miles away as they managed to walk through tall snow drifts, all while being pelted by snow and ice. The snowplows could not keep up—though they were still trying.
They took their seats and Persephone helped Zofie navigate the menu, informing her of her favorite dishes.
“I want to try everything,” the Amazon said. If it were any other person, Persephone would assume she was joking, but she knew if she did not stop the Amazon, she’d try to do exactly that.
“You will have time to try everything eventually,” Persephone promised.
They ordered and while they waited for their food, Zofie instructed Sybil on how to disarm an intruder, specifically, in the event that Ben returned to her apartment.
“If he attacks with a blade catch it in a parry and spin,” she demonstrated the movement with a flick of the wrist, and Persephone was glad that Zofie had not manifest her actual blade. “If he thrusts at you, parry his blade down.”
“Zofie,” Sybil said. “Has anyone told you that people do not fight with swords anymore?”
The Amazon looked affronted. “My sisters and I always fight with a blade!”
Persephone tried not to laugh. “Okay, what if no swords are involved. Just hand to hand combat?”
“Go for the nose,” she said, a malicious glint in her eyes.
Their conversation continued like that even after their food arrived. Persephone sat in relative silence, lost in her own thoughts, trying to piece things together.
One issue was that she didn’t have enough information on Adonis’s death, but perhaps they’d sought to draw Aphrodite out with his murder. One issue was that she didn’t have enough information on Adonis’s death, but perhaps they’d sought to draw Aphrodite out with his murder. But why try to enrage an Olympian other than to create unrest? Wasn’t Demeter’s snowstorm doing that enough? Still, if Harmonia’s assumption was correct, who would Demeter go after next? There were a number of gods and goddesses who supported her—Hecate, Apollo, though arguably reluctant, then there was…
“Hermes,” Sybil said. “What are you doing here?”
Persephone blinked and met the god’s gold gaze. He looked like he’d just come from tennis practice, dressed in white pants and a light blue polo. He slid into the booth beside Persephone, scooting her along the vinyl with little effort.
“Eating lunch with my besties,” he answered. “What does it look like?”
“It looks like you’re crashing our lunch,” Persephone said.
“Well, it’s not like you were chatting it up,” he said, reaching for Persephone’s fork and digging into her untouched food, popping a bite into his mouth. As he chewed, he spoke, looking at Persephone.
“I bet I can guess what you were thinking,” he said. “Reliving a night of mind-blowing sex with Hades.”
“Gross,” Zofie said.
Sybil giggled.
But Persephone wished that was the case. She’d take that over thinking of her mother—or her actual night with Hades which had only been full of blood and tears.
She managed to roll her eyes and lie. “Actually, I’m thinking about the wedding.”
Hermes brightened. “Tell me you’ve picked a date!”
“Well, no,” she said, pursing her lips. “I was actually thinking about…eloping.”
It was an idea that had crossed her mind multiple times since Hades had proposed and given the drama that surrounded their engagement, it was looking like the best option. Did anyone really need to know they were married, anyway?
“Elope?” Hermes repeated, as if he did not know what the word meant. “Why would you elope?”
“I mean, there’s a lot of unrest between mortals and gods right now and a public wedding would just enrage my mother more…”
She was now thinking that if her mother was involved in the attack on Harmonia, things may just escalate with a wedding.
“And a private one wouldn’t?” Hermes challenge, brow raised.
“I do not understand this wedding,” Zofie said. “Why do you need to marry? You love Hades, do you not? Is that not enough?”
Loving Hades was enough—but his proposal was the promise of something more. A commitment to a life they would share and cultivate together. She wanted that.
“If I was marrying Hades,” Hermes said, scooping up another bite of Persephone’s food. “I’d want a televised wedding so everyone knew that piece of ass was mine.”
“Sounds like you thought a lot about marrying Hades,” Sybil observed.
“Apparently there’s no need to plan anything until Zeus approves our marriage, anyway,” Persephone said, glaring at Hermes.
“Why are you looking at me like I should have told you?” Hermes asked, defensively. “Everyone knows that.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, I grew up in a glass house with my narcissistic mother,” Persephone retorted.
“How could I forget?” Hermes asked. “When there’s a raging ice storm outside to remind me?”
Sybil elbowed the god.
“Ouch!” He glared at her. “Watch it, oracle.”
Persephone’s gaze broke from Hermes, falling to her hands in her lap.
“This isn’t your fault, Persephone,” Sybil said.
“It feels like it.”
“You want to marry the love of your life,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Except that…everyone seems to disapprove. If it isn’t my mother, it’s the world, or Zeus,” she paused. “Maybe we should have waited on the engagement. It’s not like we aren’t going to be together forever.”
“Then you allow others to determine how you live,” Sybil said. “And there is nothing fair about that.”
It wasn’t fair, but Persephone had learned a good deal about fairness in the time since meeting Hades. In fact, the lesson had come from Sybil herself.
Right, wrong, fair, unfair—it’s not really the world we live in, Persephone. The gods punish.
She was starting to understand why the Impious grew in ranks, why some had become organized and formed Triad, why they wished for the gods to have less influence over their lives.
“That isn’t good,” Sybil said, nodding at a television in the corner where the news streamed.
Impious Gather to Protest Winter Weather
Persephone wanted to sink into herself.
She caught part of what the anchor was saying,
“This uncharacteristic weather has many believing a god or goddess may be on a quest for vengeance. Both the Impious and the Faithful are calling for an end in two very different ways.”
Persephone looked away, and yet she could not escape the broadcast, the words still reaching and ringing in her ears.
“Why is it mortals suffer every time a god has a mood swing? Why should we worship such gods?”
“I understand the Impious less and less,” said Hermes.
Persephone looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“When they began, they were angry with us for being distant and careless, as if they wanted our presence. Now they seem to think they can do without us.”
“Can they?” Persephone asked because she truly did not know.
“I suppose that depends. Would Helios still provide the sun? Or Selene the moon? Despite how mortals perceive the world, we are the reason for its existence—we can make and unmake it.”
“Yes, but…if they did provide the sun and moon and all the power to maintain the world. If the gods…took a step back from mortal society…what would happen?”
Hermes blinked. “I…do not know.”
It was clear he’d never considered that before.
The truth was, the gods would never be able to completely release their hold on the world because it would end, but could they strike a balance? And what did that look like exactly?
“Excuse me—” A man approached their table, cellphone in hand. He was middle-aged and wore grey slacks and a white shirt.
Hermes whipped his head around.
“No,” he said, and the mortal’s mouth snapped close. “Leave.”
He twisted away and wandered off in a daze.
“That was rude,” Persephone said.
“Well you are anything but a blushing bride today,” he argued. “I doubt you wanted to pose for a picture with some weirdo.”
Then his expression softened.
“Besides, you look sad.”
Persephone frowned, which didn’t help her case. “I’m just…distracted,” she mumbled.
Hermes surprised her by reaching out and placing his hand atop her own. “It’s okay to be sad, Sephy.”
She hadn’t really thought much about what she was feeling, instead, she’d focused on staying busy, creating new habits to replace the old ones that reminded her that Lexa was not here anymore.
“We better get back,” she said, once again choosing action over feeling.
***
Hermes left them outside Ambrosia & Nectar, giving each of them a peck on the cheek, even Zofie, who was too shocked to react at first, then she tried to shank him. Persephone took hold of her wrist, but instead of scolding Zofie, she glared at Hermes.
“Ask next time you decide to kiss someone,” she said.
For a moment, his eyes widened, and then he looked genuinely remorseful. “I’m sorry, Zofie.”
The Amazon sulked, arms crossed over her chest.
“Well, I’m off,” he said. “I have a date with a goat man. Let’s go out soon.”
Once he vanished, Persephone, Sybil, and Zofie exchanged a look.
“Goat man?” they all asked in unison.
Persephone and Sybil returned to work, leaving Zofie to patrol. Each time Persephone arrived or returned from an outing, the Amazon made rounds outside and inside Alexandria Tower. What she did after, she was not aware. Though, she had to admit, she was glad that Hades had assigned her to work with Ilias. It gave Zofie the chance to do more task-based work and socialize.
Gods knew the Amazon needed that.
Ivy greeted them as they entered the building, heading to the elevator.
“Hermes is right,” Sybil said. “We should go out soon.”
Persephone knew what Sybil was thinking—we haven’t been anywhere since Lexa died. She frowned at the thought.
“Yeah,” she said, distracted. “We should.”
“You can say no,” Sybil said, and Persephone met her gaze. “If you’re not up for it yet. We all would understand, you know?”
Persephone swallowed thickly.
“Thank you, Sybil,” she whispered.
They embraced, and Persephone rested her head on Sybil’s shoulder until they came to her floor, but as they stepped off the elevator, they found Leuce and Helen standing beside each other staring out the windowed walls at a jumble of flashing red and blue lights in the distance. Despite the heavy fog and wintery mix, Persephone knew that the highway was in the distance and that something horrible had happened.
“Oh, my gods,” Persephone whispered, coming to stand beside Leuce and Sybil.
The television blared suddenly and the three turned to find that Sybil had turned on the news. A banner ran across the bottom of the screen, announcing the horror they could see in the distance:
Multiple Wrecks Reported on the A2 Motorway
“…the accidents are believed to be caused by slick roadways and heavy snow. No word on the number of fatalities, however it has been reported that several are injured.”
Images and video of the crash moved in the background. Persephone watched in shock as car after car came upon the wreck, unaware due to the heavy mist, and with no ability to brake in time, or gain traction on the slick road, plowed into vehicle after vehicle.
“How horrible,” Helen said just as they witnessed a large tractor trailer slide into the back a car, sending it flying into the air. “How could that person survive?”
They couldn’t—and there was no safe way to escape the wreck. Leaving the car meant the possibility of slipping on ice or being hit by another vehicle in the lineup, staying meant hoping that the next person didn’t hit too hard.
Persephone stared, a lump forming in her throat. This is what she dreaded—that Demeter would take her anger out on humanity not only because she couldn’t get her way, but because she knew it was the best way to get to Persephone.
Why parade as a mortal? You are a goddess.
I am more like them than you.
You are not and once they discover who you really are, they will shun you for pretending you were one of them.
“Your mother is insane,” Leuce said under her breath.
Persephone did not need to be told—she knew well enough.
She turned from the television and walked blindly toward her office. Once inside, she picked up the phone and dialed Ilias.
“Lady Persephone,” he answered.
“Where is Hades?” she asked.
He must have sensed the distress in his voice because he did not hesitate to tell her.
“He is at Iniquity, my lady.”
“Thank you.”
Her hands were shaking so badly, she barely managed to hang up the phone before vanishing, appearing in Hades’ office. From here, he spied on those who used his club while they sat in the bar below, drinking and smoking, and playing cards. Today, however, she found he was not alone. A man she did not know stood opposite Hades’ desk in a navy-blue suit despite the fact that there were two empty chairs waiting. If Persephone had to guess, the man had not been invited to sit.
As soon as she arrived, their voices halted, and Hades hot gaze turned to her.
“Darling,” Hades said with a nod of his head. There was no hint of surprise in his voice, and yet she knew by his expression he worried at her sudden appearance.
Then the man turned to look at her. He was handsome and most definitely a demi-god—those bright aqua eyes gave his parentage away immediately, a son of Poseidon. He had brown skin and short dark hair and stubble covering his jaw. She had never seen him before.
“So you are the lovely Lady Persephone,” he said, his eyes dipped, appraising, and she felt disgust immediately.
“Theseus, I think you should leave,” Hades said, and the demi-god’s gaze left hers, almost reluctant. Persephone shuddered noticeably, disturbed by his presence.
“Of course,” he said. “I am late for a meeting anyway.”
He nodded toward Hades and turned to exit, pausing in front of Persephone.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady,” he said and held out his hand. She glanced at it and then met his gaze—in truth, she did not wish to take his hand, so she said nothing at all, but instead of being offended, the man grinned, and let his hand fall.
“You are probably right to not shake my hand. Have a good day, my lady.”
He brushed past her and she watched until he had left the office, not really trusting to give him her back. Once he was gone, Hades spoke.
“Are you well?”
She turned to find that Hades had moved silently across the room toward her.
“Do you know that man?” Persephone asked.
“As well as I know any enemy,” Hades replied.
“Enemy?”
He nodded toward the closed door where the demi-god had disappeared.
“That man is the leader of Triad,” he replied.
She had questions—so many of them, but when Hades’ hand touched her chin, tears came to her eyes.
“Tell me,” he said.
“The news,” she whispered. “There’s been a horrible accident.”
He didn’t seem surprised, and Persephone wondered if he’d already sensed the death.
“Come,” he said. “We will greet them at the gates.”
