Persephone navigated the narrow cobble streets of the Pleasure District, passing white-washed shops and brothels with names like Hetaera, Pornai, and Kapsoura. The passages were filled to bursting with people. There were those who had come to enjoy the pleasures of the district, obvious because of the masks they wore to hide their identity. Then there were those who were here to give the pleasure—women in lace and topless men. They danced through the crowds, teasing potential customers with feather boas and chocolate. Their skin glistened from oils that smelled like jasmine and vanilla. Lights crisscrossed overhead, giving the entire place a strange, red glow.
Turns out, this was where Apollo spent Thursday evenings.
“He’ll be at Erotas,” Sybil had said. “He owns a suite there on the third floor.”
The Goddess of Spring reached up to check the mask Sybil had let her borrow, paranoid that somehow it would come loose and expose her identity. It was heavy and solid black. She only needed to wear it until she made it to Erotas, once inside, every visitor was promised anonymity.
She recognized she had a choice, but it was one she wasn’t willing to make. Her mother had been right. Why not ask Apollo to heal her friend? It was a bargain she was willing to make, and so she headed in the direction of Erotas.
She could see it from a distance—a giant, mirrored phallus at the very edge of the Pleasure District. Being one of the most expensive and higher-end brothels, it had the best view of the ocean. When she was within view of the door, she shed her coat and mask. Beneath, she wore a simple black dress and strappy black heels—it was the attire worn by the women who served within Erotas, and if Persephone were lucky, she’d blend in enough to find Apollo.
She was surprised to find that the interior of the brothel was more traditionally decorated. The entryway was round and lit by a large crystal chandelier. The walls were red, decorated with ornate mirrors and sconces, and there was no one in site as she crossed the marble floor toward an elaborate princess staircase that led to the second floor.
Easy enough, Persephone thought, as her hand touched the wrought-iron rail.
“Where are you going?”
She froze and turned to find an older woman dressed in crimson. She was beautiful, slender, and had white hair. She assumed this woman was the Madam—or manager—of the brothel.
“I have a client,” Persephone said. “Waiting. Upstairs.”
“You’re lying,” the woman said.
Persephone paled.
“None of the girls have gone up yet,” the woman continued. “Come!”
Persephone hesitated, but descended the stairs. The woman studied Persephone as she approached, trying to place her.
“What’s your name?” she asked, eyes narrow.
“K-kora,” Persephone managed.
“You are new,” the woman said, and then she touched Persephone’s face, as if inspecting her for imperfections. “Yes, you will fetch a high price.”
“A high price?” Persephone’s brows pinched together.
“I’m assuming that’s why you were leaving. Nervous for the auction?”
Auction?
Persephone nodded.
“Do not worry, my sweet. Come.”
The Madam placed her arm through Persephone’s and led her into a parlor beneath the staircase.
Inside, there were women and men of all ages and sizes dressed in black. Persephone wondered why it was the chosen color, as they all looked like they were at a funeral.
As the Madam and Persephone entered, a man wearing a red cloth around his waist and a mask of the same color approached with a silver tray. The Madam took a glass of champagne and passed it to Persephone.
“Drink,” she said. “It will calm your nerves.”
Persephone sipped the drink—it was sweet and light.
“Mingle, chat. The bidding will begin soon.”
The Madam left and once Persephone was alone, she was approached by a woman with dark curls and long lashes. Her lips were a bright red, and her skin a rich shade of brown.
“I’ve never seen you before,” she said. “I’m Ismena.”
“Kora,” Persephone said. “Um…can you tell me what’s going on?”
Ismena laughed a little, almost like she thought Persephone was joking. “Did they just pull you off the street because you were pretty?”
Persephone’s eyes widened.
“Does that happen?”
“Never mind,” Ismena said. “It’s an auction. You’re given a number and let into a room sort of like an auditorium where you wait until your number is called. After that, you’re led onto a stage and you just…stand there until they tell you to leave.”
“And after that?”
“You’re led to the room of your bidder.”
Persephone’s stomach soured.
“How’d you get into this line of work anyway?” Ismena asked. “You don’t look prepared at all.”
Persephone sort of laughed, and offered the only thing she could, “Sometimes there aren’t any choices. What about you?”
The woman shrugged. “It’s good money, and most of the time these men aren’t even after sex. They just want conversation.”
Well that was good, because that’s all Persephone had come for—conversation and a bargain.
The woman in crimson returned and clapped her hands, drawing everyone’s attention.
“It’s time, ladies and gentlemen.”
Persephone followed Ismena’s lead. They filed into an adjacent room were a series of chairs were arranged. As they entered, they were given numbers and took their seats. One by one, the Madame summoned men and women, and as they disappeared into the darkness around her, Persephone’s heart raced. She wondered what Hades would do if he found out she was about to auction herself off to the highest bidder in a brothel.
Then another thought occurred to her—what if she couldn’t find Apollo?
She waited forever—until everyone in the room was gone except for her.
The Madam entered.
“Your turn, Kora.”
Persephone rose and followed the woman into the shadow. She was directed onto a round stage. She could see nothing beyond it, but she knew people were scattered in the dark beyond because she could sense them. A torrent of emotions hit her—intense loneliness and longing, beneath that, there was a tinge of amusement. She looked up into the darkness and offered a soft half smile.
“I’m here for you, Apollo.”
The madam appeared from the shadow, as quick as lightning, and snatched her by the wrist.
“How dare you! This auction is supposed to be anonymous.”
A voice crackled through an intercom.
“Don’t leave a bruise, Madam Selene, or you will face the wrath of Hades.”
So much for anonymity.
The woman inhaled sharply and released her; eyes wide.
“You are Persephone?”
Apollo’s voice crackled over the intercom again.
“Escort her to my suite.”
Persephone turned to the Madam expectantly. It took her a moment to move, she seemed frozen, staring at her as if she were one of the dead herself. After a moment, she cleared her throat and bowed her head.
“This way, my lady.”
The Madam led Persephone out of the room and into a mirrored elevator. When the doors closed, Madame Selene stared at Persephone through the reflection.
“Why did you let me treat you like one of my girls?”
Persephone shrugged. “I was curious. Don’t worry, if everyone in attendance tonight keeps my secret, I’ll ensure Hades never finds out that you laid a hand on me. Understood?”
“Of course.”
Madame Selene pulled out a key and inserted it into the panel, pressing the button for the third floor. They were silent until the Madame asked, “Are you here to bargain with him?”
Persephone’s heart raced. “Why would I bargain with Apollo?”
“Because you’re desperate.”
Persephone stared at the woman.
“I see desperation every day, my love. If you’re seeking an end to it, trust me, Apollo’s not the answer.”
Persephone clenched her jaw. “Remember my promise earlier, Madame? You’d do well to stay quiet.”
The woman offered a half smile and Persephone thought it hinted at her wickedness. “Apologies, my lady.”
The elevator came to a halt, and Persephone stepped into a well-furnished and luxurious living room. The place was covered in rich fabrics, textured rugs, and fine artwork.
Persephone felt on edge as she moved into the space, thinking that the God of Music might appear out of thin air just to scare her, but as she rounded the sitting area, she found Apollo in an adjacent room. He was naked, relaxing in a giant bath. When he saw her, the god stretched out, resting his feet and draping his arms over the edge of the bath.
“Ah, Lady Persephone,” he said. “A true pleasure.”
“Apollo,” she acknowledged.
“Come, join me!”
“Did you not just warn Madame Selene of Hades’ wrath? He will cut your balls off and feed them to you if you touch me.”
Apollo chuckled, as if he thoroughly enjoyed the visual Persephone had just given him.
“Would you deny me what I am due? I bought and paid for you, after all.”
“Then that is your loss,” she replied.
Apollo chuckled, narrowing those inky violet eyes.
Suddenly, the elevator doors opened again, and three nymphs entered the room. They were dressed in shimmery slips. One carried a bowl, the other a tray of various bottles, and the last a stack of towels.
“Put the oils in the bath. I have waited long enough,” Apollo snapped as they approached.
The nymph with the tray didn’t seem at all anxious by the god’s rudeness. Her movements were unhurried and precise. She sat the tray down, chose a bottle, and measured the oil with the cap. When that nymph was finished, the other scattered rose petals into Apollo’s bath, and the last rolled up a towel and placed it beneath his head. Once the nymphs were finished, they left the room soundlessly.
“Did Sybil tell you where to find me?”
Persephone glared. “So, you do remember her name.”
He had refused to say it before.
The god rolled her eyes. “I remember the names of all my oracles, all my lovers, all my enemies.”
“Are they not all the same?” Persephone challenged.
The god frowned, his face growing stony. “You should be more careful with your words, especially when you are here to ask for help.”
“How do you know I am here to ask for help?”
“Am I wrong?”
She was silent, and the god laughed.
“So tell me, Lady Persephone, what do you want that your lover will not offer freely?”
Life.
All of a sudden, Persephone felt a rush of heat through her body. She hated that she was here, hated that she had come to Apollo for help. Hated that he knew she was here because Hades could not give her what she wanted.
“I need you to heal my friend,” Persephone said. The words felt like thorns on her tongue. She knew she should not say them or ask Apollo to defy Fate…but here she was.
Apollo stared at her for a long moment, and then he threw his head back, laughing. Persephone despised the sound of it. The tone was off, full of false amusement. Except that when the god looked at her again, his eyes sparkled.
“And why would I help the journalist who slandered my name?”
Persephone’s hands shook, and she clenched her fists to keep him from noticing. After a beat of silence, she spoke.
“Because. I am willing to bargain.”
That got Apollo’s attention. He sat up in the bath and stood, completely naked.
“You’re willing to bargain with me?” he asked.
Persephone turned her head away, swallowing hard. If she were being honest, seeing Apollo naked was no different than seeing the statues in the Garden of the Gods at New Athens University, but there was something different about seeing flesh rather than stone.
“Yes, Apollo. That’s what I said.”
Water sloshed and she knew without looking that he had gotten out of the bath.
“This…friend. She must be very important to you.”
“She is everything.”
“Apparently,” Apollo said, amusement in his tone. “Especially if you are so willing to defy Hades and bargain with me.”
Persephone’s eyes snapped to Apollo. He had done nothing to cover himself.
“Will you help me or not? I did not come here for polite conversation.”
“You call this polite?” the god scoffed.
Persephone’s fists clenched tight and Apollo narrowed his eyes. She wondered if he could sense her losing control of her glamour.
“Beg,” he said. “On your knees.”
Persephone was disgusted. “Never.”
“Then I won’t help you.” He started to turn when she called out, “Wait!”
Apollo paused, lifted a brow, and waited.
Persephone worked to keep her anger under control as she made her way to the floor, and when she spoke, her voice shook.
“Please.”
“No.”
Apollo started to walk away just as vines erupted from the floor with no warning, trapping him.
“Well, well, well, you are full of surprises,” the god said.
“I said please.” Her voice was venom. She would torture him and she would take immense pleasure from the act.
“You are a goddess. A goddess masquerading as a mortal!” Apollo ignored her plea, his eyes glittered with excitement. “No one knows, do they?”
That wasn’t exactly true but instead of answering, the vines that held Apollo grew thorns. A sharp splinter exploded near his face and cock, silencing him.
“I believe we were having a conversation,” she said. “That involved you saving my friend.”
Apollo narrowed his gaze, then attempted to snap the vines holding him. After a few tries, he gave up, panting. “What are these made of?”
Persephone blinked—she didn’t know. But she was surprised that Apollo hadn’t been able to break her magic. Maybe her anger and hatred for the god had something to do with their strength.
He met her gaze, eyes inquisitive. “You are a powerful little creature.”
“I am not a creature.”
“Yes, you are. You are a leech, sucking the fun out of my evening.”
“You’re the one who made this difficult.”
“I hardly thought you were capable of…” he looked down at himself, narrowly missing having his face impaled by the massive thorn.
“Defeating you?” Persephone supplied.
“Restraining me,” he corrected, and that mischievous glint entered his eyes again. “Am I correct in guessing this is one of Hades’ favorite parts?”
“I’m not here to talk about Hades.”
“Of course. Because if you were, we’d have to address the elephant in the room. He doesn’t know you are here, does he?”
“Why does everyone keep asking that?” She complained. “I don’t have to ask for permission to be here.”
Apollo’s lips curled. “Perhaps not, but I am certain he will feel utterly betrayed when he discovers you came to me for aid. After all, he offered up a favor of his own to save you from me last time.”
Persephone ignored the guilt. “That was Hades’ choice. I have also made a choice. I propose a bargain, Apollo. You heal my friend and I’ll—I’ll—”
Well, she wasn’t exactly sure what she would do.
“You’ll do whatever I want.”
She hated how interested Apollo appeared at the prospect of an open request.
“Not whatever you want,” Persephone said. “I won’t do anything that will hurt Hades.”
“Oh, but you already are, little goddess,” he paused. “Fine. I’ll bargain with you, but only because this will entertain me.”
She waited. She wanted the terms of their agreement.
“I can’t think with this thorn in my face.”
She considered telling him to deal with it but decided she should be a little accommodating. She was at his mercy when it came to this bargain.
She dismissed her magic and Apollo stretched, still naked.
“Is it too much to ask for you to get dressed?” she asked.
“Yes. Now, what do I want from you?” he considered the question as he walked to the corner of the room and retrieved a floral robe. His back was to her as he slipped it on. He did nothing to secure it, however, and it hung open, exposing his nakedness. She rolled her eyes.
“I want you to hang out with me.”
“What?” Persephone thought he was joking but the look on Apollo’s face said otherwise.
“You’ll be my…friend. We’ll party together, we’ll attend events together, you’ll come to my penthouse.”
“You want me to hang out with you?” Something didn’t seem right about this. “For how long?”
“How much is your friend’s life worth?”
Persephone wasn’t going to answer that.
“What if we hate each other?” Because she was sure she would only hate him more by the end of this.
Apollo shrugged. “You’d be surprised by what I can handle.”
She had never wanted to roll her eyes so much at one person.
“What does hanging out with you entail?” She asked.
“Someone’s taught you well,” he said.
“I won’t sleep with you. I won’t hurt people for you. I won’t use my powers for you, either.”
“Anything else?”
“If your healing fails to work, the deal is off.”
Apollo seemed to think that was particularly funny. “If my healing works? Little goddess, do you know how many healers I have fathered?”
“I don’t want to know anything about that part of your life, Apollo.”
“Is that the end of your requests?”
“Six months,” Persephone said. “I’ll only do this for six months.”
The god was silent as he considered her proposal. Finally, he said, “Deal.”
“Deal?”
She couldn’t help it, she had to ask. She hadn’t expected him to be so accepting of the timeline.
Apollo chuckled. “Is it so unbelievable that I would help?”
“You aren’t helping out of the goodness of your heart,” Persephone countered. “You’re helping because it benefits you. In some weird way.”
Apollo sulked. “Don’t insult me—I can rescind my offer.”
“No!” she said quickly, and her face grew hot. Not from embarrassment, but anger. “I’m sorry.”
The god stared at her. “You really care for your friend. But I must ask—what’s so bad about her death? You are Hades’ lover. It isn’t like you can’t see her in the Underworld.”
Persephone hesitated to speak, and Apollo started to laugh.
“Uncertain about your relationships with the Rich One, huh?”
“I just,” she stammered, uncertain of how to acknowledge what Apollo was saying. She thought of her mother’s words—you should consider, given the circumstances, can a daughter of spring truly be death’s bride? It was a question she couldn’t answer. Could she exist beside Hades, the god who would let her best friend die? Could she rule a world that was responsible for the unbearable pain she felt? “There is no way I can be the goddess he wants.”
Apollo snorted.
Persephone glared. “What?”
The god raised his brows. “It just sounds like you think he wants something other than you, which is not what I witnessed when I came to punish you in the Underworld.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What would you know about it, Apollo?”
She didn’t like how serious he suddenly looked. “More than you could ever imagine, little goddess.”
She felt the truth of those words. She wanted to ask more questions—what exactly did you witness when you came to the Underworld, but she didn’t want Apollo to know she was curious.
“Just…heal my friend, Apollo.”
“As you wish, goddess.” He held out his hand. “Where are we going?”
“Asclepius,” she said. “Second floor, ICU.”
“Oh, yes—my son’s namesake. Did you know Hades complained of his skill so much my father killed him?”
“His skill?”
“He could bring the dead back to life,” Apollo said. “I imagine Hades put him in Tartarus for that.”
Apollo took her hand, and the pull of his magic made her stomach turn. He smelled like wood and eucalyptus.
They found themselves in Lexa’s dark room. Her parents were asleep in the corner. The room smelled stale and the air was sticky and hot. Persephone glanced at Apollo, surprised to see his face was drawn and grim.
“I can see why you were desperate to bargain,” he said. “She’s nearly gone.”
The comment was an affirmation that Persephone had made the right decision, and as if Apollo heard that thought, he met her gaze.
“Are you sure you want this?”
“Yes.” Her voice was a whisper in the dark, and in the next second, the God of Music was holding a bow and arrow. The weapon was ethereal—glowing and shimmering in the shadow of the room. It was bizarre to witness a god dressed in a floral robe, holding such a majestic weapon.
Apollo strung the arrow, the veins in his arm popping as he pulled it back on the string, releasing soundlessly. The arrow hit the center of Lexa’s chest and vanished into a shower of shimmering magic.
Silence followed.
And nothing happened.
“It’s not working,” Persephone said, already feeling a sense of terror at the thought.
“It will,” Apollo said. “Tomorrow they’ll take her off the ventilator and she’ll wake up and breath on her own. She’ll be a living, breathing miracle. Exactly what you wanted.”
For some reason, those words left a horrible taste in Persephone’s mouth. She looked back at Lexa who was as still as a corpse.
“I’ll be in contact,” he said. “Your duties begin soon.”
Then he vanished.
And in the noisy ICU, Persephone wondered what she had done?
