“Antoni,” Hades said not long after they dropped Helen off. “Please see that Lady Persephone returns safely to Nevernight.”
“What?”
The word was barely out of her mouth before Hades gripped her head and kissed her. He made love to her mouth, parting her lips to thrust his tongue inside. The bottom of her stomach grew taut with anticipation, her thoughts turning from her mother’s wrath to the promise Hades had made in Sybil’s bathroom. She still felt the empty ache of their unfinished coupling, and she desperately wanted to lose herself in him tonight, but instead of giving her release, he drew away, her lips felt swollen and raw.
More, Hades. Now. She wanted to scream at him because her body ached so badly.
And he knew it.
“Do not fret, my darling. You shall come for me tonight.”
Antoni coughed, and it sounded like he was trying to cover a laugh.
In the next second, Hades’ magic flared, smelling of spice and ash, and he was gone.
Persephone let out a long breath and then met Antoni’s gaze in the rear-view mirror.
“Where did he go?”
“I do not know, my lady,” he answered, and she heard what he didn’t say—even if I did, I have been ordered to take you home. Persephone suddenly knew what she would ask of Hecate at their next training session—how to follow someone when they teleported.
Antoni let Persephone out at the front of Nevernight. Despite the awful cold and stream of ice falling from the sky, mortals still stood in line, desperate to hold onto their chance to see the inside of Hades’ infamous club. She was met by Mekonnen, an ogre and one of Hades’ bouncers, as she exited the vehicle. He held an umbrella over her head and walked with her to the door.
“Good evening, Persephone,” he said.
She grinned. “Hello, Mekonnen. How are you?”
“Well,” he replied.
She was relieved when he didn’t comment on the weather. Mekonnen held the door open, and she entered the club. She ascended the stairs to the floor, packed with mortals and immortals alike. She did not always walk the floor, sometimes she would teleport as soon as she set foot inside, but more and more, she was trying to grow comfortable with the kind of power that came with being engaged to Hades.
Which meant that this club, it was hers.
Sometimes she wished she could walk unseen among the crowds like Hades, observing and listening, uninterrupted, but she did not think that power would manifest among her skillset.
Persephone cut across the floor of Nevernight, passing packed lounges, the back-lit bar, and the sunken dance floor where flushed bodies pulsed beneath red laser light. As she moved, she knew others watched. Even if they did not look at her, they whispered, and while she did not know what they said, she could guess—there were no shortage of rumors, no shortage of body language experts analyzing her every move, no shortage of ‘close friends’ releasing details about her life in the Underworld, her struggles with grief, the challenges of planning a wedding, and while there was only a thread of truth to any of those articles, it was how the world formed their opinion of her.
Persephone knew words were both ally and enemy, but she always thought she would be behind sensational journalism, not the other way around.
She was just grateful that no one approached her. Not that she minded most of the time, but tonight she was feeling less trusting. Perhaps it had something to do with today’s coffee incident. Still, she knew that one of the reasons people kept their distance was that she was being guarded. Adrian and Ezio, two of several ogres Hades employed as bouncers and bodyguards, flanked her from a distance. If anyone approached, they would converge.
Sometimes, though, even they weren’t intimidating enough to deter desperate mortals.
“Persephone!” A female voice rang out, barely audible over the clamor of the crowd. Persephone was used to people calling her name, and she was getting better at not letting it halt her stride, but this woman pushed through the crowd, and just as she made it to the stairs, cut her off.
“Persephone!” The dark-haired women said her name, out of breath from chasing her across the club. She was dressed in pink, and her chest heaved as she reached for her arm. Persephone jerked away, and suddenly, Adrian and Ezio stood between her and the mortal woman.
“Persephone,” she said her name again. “Please. I beg you! Hear me out!”
“Come, my lady,” Adrian implored, while Ezio maintained a barrier between her and the woman.
“A moment, Adrian,” she said, and placed her hand upon Ezio’s arm as she moved to stand beside him.
“Are you asking for my help?” Persephone said.
“Yes! Oh, Persephone—”
“She is the future wife and queen of Lord Hades,” said Adrian. “You will address her as such.”
The woman’s eyes widened. Not too long ago, Persephone would have cringed hearing Adrian’s correction, but the times where she asked others to call her only by her name were fewer and fewer.
“I’m so sorry, so sorry!”
Persephone felt herself growing impatient.
“Whatever your issue, it must not be as pressing considering it is taking you forever to get to the point.”
Gods, she really was starting to sound like Hades.
“Please, my lady—I implore you. I wish to bargain with Lord Hades. You must ask him to see me immediately.”
Persephone ground her teeth together. So the woman was not asking for her help—she wished for her to beg Hades for his. She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes, attempting to place a cap on her anger.
“Perhaps I can help you,” Persephone suggested.
The woman laughed, as if her suggestion was ludicrous. If she were being honest, the reaction hurt. She realized this mortal did not know Persephone was a goddess, but it was another reminder of the worth that was placed upon Divinity.
Persephone’s lips flattened. “Rejecting my help is effectively rejecting Hades.”
She started up the stairs again, and the woman attempted to lunge toward her, but Ezio placed his arm between them, preventing the woman from touching her.
“Wait, please,” the woman’s tone became desperate. “I did not mean to offend. It’s just…how can you help me? You are mortal.”
Persephone paused, and glanced at the woman. “If what you are asking for requires the aid of a god, it is likely you shouldn’t be asking for it at all.”
“That is easy for you to say,” the woman retorted angrily. “A woman who may ask anything of her lover, a god.”
Persephone glared. This woman was like anyone else who wrote articles or whispered about her. She had created her own narrative around Persephone’s life. She did not know how she had begged Hades for his aid, how he had refused, how she had fucked up and bargaining with Apollo when she should have stopped interfering.
She looked up at Ezio.
“See her out,” Persephone said, and turned to head up the stairs with Adrian.
“Wait! No! Please!”
The woman’s pleas erupted like the sound of fireworks inside the club, and slowly, the roar of the crowd turned quiet as they watch Ezio drag the woman from the club. Persephone ignored the attention and continued upstairs to Hades’ office. By the time she was behind the gilded doors, frustration flooded her veins. A pain pricked her forearm that she recognized as her magic attempting to manifest physically—usually in the form of a vine or leaves or flowers sprouting from her skin.
The mortal had triggered her.
She took a breath to ease her anger until the prick of pain dissipated.
What is the opinion of the world, anyway? Her bitter thought quickly turned into something far more painful as she realized why she had become so angry—the woman had essentially told her that she had nothing of value to offer, with the exception of her connection to Hades.
Persephone had struggled before with feeling like an object—a possession owned by Hades, often unnamed in articles where their relationship took center stage. She was Hades’ lover or the mortal.
What would it take for the Upperworld to see her as the Underworld did? Hades’ equal.
Persephone sighed and teleported to Hecate’s grove, only to find the goddess engaged in battle with a tiny, fluffy black puppy that had the hem of her crimson gown clasped between its teeth.
“Nefeli! Release me at once!” Hecate shouted.
The pup growled and pulled harder.
Persephone giggled, her earlier frustrations suddenly gone, replaced by amusement at seeing the Goddess of Witchcraft gripping her skirts in an attempt to free herself from such a small, delicate creature.
“Persephone, don’t just stand there! Save me from this…monster!”
“Oh, Hecate,” Persephone bent to scoop up the ball of fur. “She is not monster.”
She held Nefeli aloft. She had small ears, a pointed nose, and expressive—almost human—eyes.
“She is a villain!” The goddess inspected her dress, full of tiny holes. Then placed her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes. “After everything I did.”
“Where did you find her?” Persephone asked.
“I—” Hecate hesitated, and her hands dropped from her sides. “I…well…I made her.”
Persephone’s brows drew together, and she shifted the puppy so that she held her in the crook of her arm. “You…made her?”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Hecate said.
When she offered no explanation, Persephone spoke. “Hecate, please don’t tell me this was a human.”
It wouldn’t be the first time. Hecate had turned a witch named Gale into a polecat she now kept as a pet in the Underworld.
“Okay, then I won’t,” she replied.
“Hecate,” Persephone chided. “You didn’t—why? Because she annoyed you?”
“No, no, no,” she said. “Though…that is debatable. I turned her into a dog because of her grief.”
“Why?”
“Because she was going insane, and I thought she would rather be a dog than a mortal who had lost.”
Persephone opened her mouth, and then closed it. “Hecate, you can’t just turn her into a dog without her permission. No wonder she attacked your skirts.”
The goddess crossed her arms. “She gave me permission. She looked up at me from the ground and begged me to take her pain away.”
“I am sure she did not mean for you to turn her into a dog.”
Hecate shrugged. “A lesson for all mortals—if you are going to beg a god for help, be specific.”
Persephone offered a pointed look.
“Besides, I needed a new grim. Hecuba is tired.”
“A grim?”
“Oh yes,” she offered a devious smirk. “It’s just an old tradition I began centuries ago. Before I take a mortal’s life, I send a grim to torture them for weeks before their timely end.”
“But…how are you able to take lives, Hecate?”
“I am assigned as their Fate,” she explained.
Persephone shivered. She had never bore witness to the goddess’s vengeance but knew that Hecate was known as the Lady of Tartarus for her unique approach to punishment, which usually involved poison. Persephone could only imagine the hell any mortal would go through with Hecate assigned as the cause of their death.
“But enough about me and this mongrel. You came to see me?”
Hecate’s question pulled the smile from Persephone’s face as she was reminded of the reason she had sought the goddess. Despite her earlier frustration, she no longer felt anger so much as disappointment.
“I just…wondered if we could practice.”
Hecate narrowed her eyes. “I might not be Hades, but I know when you aren’t telling the truth. Come—out with it.”
Persephone sighed and told Hecate about the woman in the club. The goddess listened and after a moment, asked, “What did you think you could have offered the woman?”
Persephone opened her mouth to speak but hesitated.
“I…don’t know,” she admitted. She didn’t even know what the woman had wanted—though she could guess. It hadn’t taken Persephone long to realize that mortals rarely asked for anything but time, health, wealth, or love. None of which Persephone could grant, not as the Goddess of Spring, much less as a goddess just learning her powers.
“I see where your mind is going,” Hecate said. “I did not mean to make you feel lesser, but you have answered my question all the same.”
Persephone’s eyes widened slightly. “How?”
“You are thinking like a mortal,” she said. “What could I have possibility offered?”
“What could I have offered, Hecate? A wilted rose? The sun on a cold day?”
“You mock yourself and yet your mother terrorizes the upperworld with snow and ice. The sun is just what the mortal world needs.”
Persephone frowned. The idea of attempting to counter her mother’s magic was overwhelming. Again, Hecate stopped her.
“Coming from the woman who used Hades’ magic against him.”
Persephone narrowed her eyes. “Hecate, have you been hiding that you can read my mind?”
“Hiding implies that I willfully mislead you,” Hecate replied.
Persephone raised a brow.
“But yes, of course I can read minds,” she answered and then as if it would explain everything, she added “I am a goddess and a witch.”
“Great,” Persephone rolled her eyes.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m used to tuning out, especially when you’re thinking about Hades.”
The goddess scrunched her nose and Persephone groaned.
“My point is, Persephone, there will come a time when you can no longer masquerade as a mortal.”
A frown pulled at Persephone’s lips, but even she was beginning to wonder how long she would be able to keep up this charade, especially with her mother’s magic running rampant in the Upperworld.
“It was noble, to want to be known for your work but you are more than Persephone, a journalist. You are Persephone, Goddess of Spring, future Queen of the Underworld. You have so much more to offer than words.”
She thought of something Lexa had told her about what it meant to be a goddess. You are kind and compassionate and you fight for your beliefs, but mostly, you fight for people.
Persephone took a deep breath.
“And what am I supposed to do? Announce my Divinity to the world?”
“Oh, my dear, do not worry about how the world will come to know you.”
Persephone shivered, and while part of her wanted to know what Hecate meant, another part of her didn’t.
“Come, you wanted to practice.”
The Goddess sat on the grass and patted the spot beside her. Persephone sighed, knowing Hecate intended for her to meditate. She did not like meditating, but she had been working on drawing upon her magic, and while she was getting better, it was usually via Hades’ instruction she was most successful.
She took her place beside Hecate, releasing Nefeli to wander in the surrounding meadow. Hecate began, coaching her to close her eyes as she narrated how Persephone should think of her magic—as a well or pool that she could draw from anytime.
“Imagine the pool—glistening, cool.”
The problem was Persephone didn’t think of her magic as a pool at all—it was darkness, it was shadow. It wasn’t cool, it was fire. It wasn’t calm, it was furious. It has been locked away so long, freedom had made it feral. When she got close, it gnashed, sprouted, drew blood. It was the opposite of peace—the opposite of meditation.
While she sat with her eyes closed, she felt magic stir around her—it was Hecate’s—a heavy and ancient power that smelled like a fine wine, aged and sharp, and felt like dread. Her eyes flew open only to find that the small, fluffy dog from earlier had transformed into a massive hellhound. She was no longer cute, but fierce, her eyes glowed red, her teeth were long, sharp, and her jowls dripped, salivating with hunger.
Nefeli growled, Persephone’s eyes darted to Hecate who had moved to hover behind her new grim.
“Hecate—” Persephone’s voice took on an edge of warning.
“Yes, my lady?”
“Don’t my lady me,” she snapped. “What are you doing?”
“We’re practicing.”
“This isn’t practice!”
“It is. You must be prepared for the unexpected. Not all are as they appear, Persephone.”
“I think I get it. The dog isn’t cute.”
A deadly growl erupted from Nefeli’s throat. She inched toward Persephone like a predator cornering its prey, pinning her against the ground.
“Did she insult you, my sweet?” Hecate asked, her voice sweet but chiding.
Persephone glared at the goddess as she encouraged the hound she’d decried earlier.
“If you want her to yield, use your magic,” Hecate said.
Persephone’s eyes widened. What magic was she supposed to use to call off a hound? “Hecate—”
The goddess sighed. “Nefeli!”
As Hecate said the hound’s name, her ears went back, and for a brief moment, Persephone thought that she was going to call off the dog.
Instead, she said, “Attack.”
Persephone’s eyes widened, and in the next second, she teleported, landing in the grass beside the Aleyonia Ocean. She’d only been here once, on a night when she’d wandered from Hades’ palace and gotten lost. She rose onto her hands and knees, realizing that she’d missed falling from the cliffside by an inch. Her limbs shook as she settled into the grass, drawing her knees to her chest. She sat for a long while, letting the salty wind dry the tears that streaked her face, replaying what had happened in the meadow.
Teleporting had felt like her only option as soon as Hecate had given her orders, and while she was now safe, she also felt like she’d failed. She did not blame Hecate. She knew what the goddess was trying to teach her. She had to think faster. As soon as she had felt Hecate’s magic surround her, she should have been on alert. Instead, she’d grown too comfortable—so comfortable she had not taken her instruction seriously.
She would not make the same mistake a second time—because eventually, there would be no room for second chances.
