Persephone knew a lot about Hecate because of Lexa. She was the Goddess of Witchcraft and Magic. She was also one of the few goddesses Demeter actually admired. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that she wasn’t an Olympian. In any case, Hecate was known as a protector of women and the oppressed—a nurturer in her own way, even though she preferred solidarity. “I’m—”
“Persephone,” she said, smiling. “I have been waiting to meet you.”
“You have?”
“Oh yes,” Hecate’s laugh seemed to make her glow. “Since you fell into the Styx and had Lord Hades in an uproar.”
Persephone blushed.
“I’m sorry I scared you, but, as I am sure you’ve learned, the rivers of the Underworld are dangerous, even to a goddess,” Hecate explained. “The Lethe will steal your memories. Hades should have told you that. I will scold him later.”
Persephone laughed at the thought of Hecate scolding Hades. “Can I watch?”
“Oh, I would only think to reprimand him in front of you, my dear.”
They smiled at each other, and Persephone said, “Um, but do you happen to know where I might find some water? I just planted a garden.”
“Come,” Hecate said, and as she turned, she picked up the red ball and threw it. The three dogs took off through the grass. “I see you have met Hades’ dogs.”
“They’re really his?”
“Oh yes. He loves animals. He has the three dogs, Cerberus, Typhon and Orthrus, and four horses, Orphnaeus, Aethon, Nycteus, and Alastor.”
Hecate led Persephone to a fountain buried deep in Hades’ gardens. As she filled the container, she asked, “Do you live here?”
“I live in many places,” Hecate replied. “But this is my favorite.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Hecate smiled and looked out at the landscape. “I enjoy it here. The souls and the lost, they are my loves, and Hades is kind enough to have given me a cottage.”
“It’s far more beautiful than I expected,” Persephone admitted.
“It is to all who come here.” Hecate smiled. “Let’s water your garden, shall we?”
Hecate and Persephone returned to the garden and watered the seeds. Hecate pointed to several of the markers Persephone had used to remember what and where she had planted.
“Tell me, what are these plants?”
“That one is anemone,” Persephone found herself blushing. “Hades wore one in his suit the night I met him.”
Persephone gathered her tools, and Hecate showed her where to store the items—in a small alcove near the palace.
After, Hecate took Persephone on a tour of the grounds. As they passed Hades’ obsidian home, she noted a few new things she hadn’t before—a stone courtyard attached to the palace, and stables.
They continued, following a slate path among tall shoots of grass.
“Asphodel! I love these!” Persephone exclaimed, recognizing the flowers mixed among the grass with their long stems and spike of white flowers. The farther they walked, the more abundant they became.
“Yes, we’re close to Asphodel.” Hecate held out her hand to stop Persephone from moving too far forward. When she looked down, she stood at the edge of a steep canyon; the asphodel grew right up to the edge of the incline, making the chasm almost impossible to see as they approached.
Persephone wasn’t sure what she expected from Asphodel, but she guessed she’d always thought of death as a sort of aimless existence—a time where souls occupied space but had no purpose. At the bottom of this canyon, however, there was life.
A field of green stretched for miles, flanked by sloping hills in the distance. Several small homes were scattered over the emerald plane, all slightly different—some crafted of wood and others of obsidian brick. Smoke rose from some chimneys, flowers bloomed in a few window boxes, and warm light illuminated windows. A wide path cut right through the center of the field, crowded with souls and colorful tents.
“Are they…celebrating something?” Persephone asked.
Hecate smiled. “It is market day. Would you like to explore?”
“Very much,” Persephone said.
Hecate took the young goddess’s hand and teleported, landing on the ground inside the valley. When Persephone looked up, she could see Hades’ palace rising tall toward his muted sky. She realized it was similar to the way Nevernight towered over the mortals in the world above. It was both beautiful and ominous, and Persephone wondered what feelings the sight of their King’s tower inspired in these people.
The path they followed through Asphodel was lined with lanterns. Souls wandered about, looking as solid as living humans. Now that Persephone was on ground level, she saw that the colorful tents were filled with a variety of goods—apples and oranges, figs and pomegranates. Others held beautifully embroidered scarves and woven blankets.
“You look puzzled,” Hecate commented.
“I just…where does all this stuff come from?” Persephone asked.
“It is made by the souls.”
“Why?” Persephone asked. “Do they dead need this stuff?”
“I think you misunderstand what it means to be dead,” Hecate said. “Souls still have feeling and perception. It pleases them to live a familiar existence.”
“Lady Hecate!” someone called in greeting.
Once one of the souls spotted the goddess, others did, too, and approached, bowing and grasping her hands. Hecate smiled and touched every one, introducing Persephone as the Goddess of Spring.
At that, the souls seemed confused.
“We do not know the Goddess of Spring.”
Of course they didn’t—no one did.
Until now.
“She is the daughter of the Goddess of Harvest,” Hecate explained. “She will be spending time with us here in the Underworld.”
Persephone blushed. She felt compelled to offer an explanation, but what was she supposed to say? I entered into a game with your lord and he held me to a contract I must fulfill? She decided staying silent was best.
She and Hecate walked for a long while, exploring the market. Souls offered them everything—fine silk and jewels, fresh breads and chocolate. Then a young girl ran up to Persephone with a small, white flower and held it out in her pale hand, bright-eyed, looking as alive as ever. It was a strange sight, and it made Persephone’s heart feel heavy.
Her gaze fell to the flower, and she hesitated, knowing if she touched the petal, it would shrivel. Instead, she bent and allowed the girl to thread the flower into her hair. After, several more souls of all ages approached to offer flowers.
By the time she and Hecate left Asphodel, a crown of flowers decorated Persephone’s head and her face hurt from smiling so much.
“The crown suits you,” Hecate said.
“They’re just flowers,” Persephone replied.
“Accepting them from the souls means a lot.”
They continued toward the palace, and as they crested a hill, Persephone stopped short, spotting Hades in the clearing. He was shirtless, sun-kissed and chiseled, sweat glistening over his defined back and biceps. His arm was back as he prepared to throw the red ball his three hounds had brought her earlier.
For a moment, she felt panicked, like she was intruding or seeing something she wasn’t meant to see—this moment of abandon where he was engaged in something so…mortal. It ignited something low in her stomach, a fluttering that spread to her chest.
Hades threw the ball, his strength and power evident in how impossibly far it went. The hounds bolted after it and Hades laughed, deep and loud; the sound was warm like his skin and echoed in Persephone’s chest.
Then the god turned, and his eyes found hers immediately, as if he was drawn to her. Her eyes widened as she took him in, trailing from his broad shoulders to the deep vee of his abs. He was beautiful—a work of art, carefully sculpted. When she managed to look at his face again, she found him smirking, and she quickly averted her eyes.
Hecate marched forward, like she wasn’t even fazed by Hades’ physique. “You know they never behave for me after you spoil them.”
Hades grinned. “They grow lazy under your care, Hecate.” His eyes slid to Persephone. “I see you have met the Goddess of Spring.”
“Yes, and she is quite lucky I did. How dare you not warn her to stay away from the Lethe!”
Hades’ eyes widened, and Persephone tried not to smile at Hecate’s tone. “It seems I owe you an apology, Lady Persephone.”
Persephone wanted to tell him he owed her far more—but she couldn’t make her mouth work. The way Hades looked at her took her breath away. She swallowed hard and was relieved when a horn sounded in the distance.
Hecate and Hades turned in its direction.
“I am being summoned,” she said.
“Summoned?” Persephone echoed.
Hecate smiled. “The judges are in need of my advice.”
Persephone didn’t understand, and Hecate didn’t explain.
“My dear, call the next time you are in the Underworld,” she said in parting. “We’ll return to Asphodel.”
“I would love that,” Persephone said.
Hecate vanished, leaving her alone with Hades.
“Why would the judges need Hecate’s advice?” Persephone demanded.
Hades cocked his head to the side, as if he were trying to decide whether he should tell her the truth. “Hecate is the Lady of Tartarus. And particularly good at deciding punishments for the wicked.”
Persephone shivered. “Where is Tartarus?”
“I would tell you if I thought you would use the knowledge to avoid it.”
“You think I want to visit your torture chamber?”
He leveled his dark gaze upon her. “I think you are curious,” he said. “And eager to prove I am as the world assumes—a deity to be feared.”
“You’re afraid I’ll write about what I see.”
He chuckled. “Fear is not the word, darling.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course, you fear nothing.”
Hades responded by reaching to pluck a flower from her hair. “Did you enjoy Asphodel?”
“I did.” She couldn’t help smiling. Everyone had been so kind. “Your souls…they seem so happy.”
“You are surprised?”
“Well, you aren’t exactly known for your kindness,” Persephone said, and immediately regretted the harshness of her words.
Hades’ jaw tightened. “I’m not known for my kindness to mortals. There is a difference.”
“Is that why you play games with their lives?”
His eyes narrowed, and she could feel the tension rise between them like the restless waters of the Styx. “I seem to recall advising that I would answer no more of your questions.”
Persephone’s mouth fell open. “You can’t be serious.”
“As the dead,” he said.
“But…how will I get to know you?”
That stupid smirk on his face returned. “You want to get to know me?”
She averted her gaze, scowling. “I’m being forced to spend time here, right? Shouldn’t I get to know my jailer better?”
“So dramatic,” he said, but he was quiet for a moment, considering.
“Oh, no,” Persephone said.
Hades raised a brow. “What?”
“I know that look.”
He raised a curious brow. “What look?”
“You get this…look. When you know what you want.” She felt ridiculous saying that out loud.
His eyes darkened and his voice lowered. “Do I?” He paused. “Can you guess what I want?”
“I’m not a mind reader!”
“Pity,” he said. “If you would like to ask questions, then I propose a game.”
“No. I’m not falling for that again.”
“No contract,” he said. “No favors owed, just questions answered—like you want.”
She lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes. “Fine. But I get to pick the game.”
He clearly hadn’t expected that, and the surprise showed on his face. Then he grinned. “Very well, Goddess.”
CHAPTER IX – ROCK, PAPER, SCISSORS
“This game sounds horrible,” Hades complained, standing in the middle of his study—a beautiful room with floor to ceiling windows and a large obsidian fireplace. He’d found a shirt since they returned to the palace, and Persephone was only glad because his nakedness would have proved a distraction during their game.
“You’re just mad because you haven’t played.”
“It sounds simple enough—rock beats scissors, scissors beats paper, and paper beats rock—how exactly does paper beat rock?”
“Paper covers rock,” Persephone said. Hades frowned at her reasoning, and the goddess shrugged. “Why is an ace a wildcard?”
“Because it’s the rules.”
“Well, it’s a rule that paper covers rock,” she said. “Ready?”
They lifted their hands, and Persephone couldn’t help giggling. Witnessing the God of the Dead playing rock-paper-scissors should be on every mortal’s bucket list.
“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” they said in unison.
“Yes!” Persephone squealed. “Rock beats scissors!”
She mimicked smashing Hades’ scissors with her fist—the god blinked. “Damn. I thought you’d choose paper.”
“Why?”
“Because you just sang paper’s praises.”
“Only because you asked why paper covers rock. This isn’t poker, Hades—it’s not about deception.”
He met her gaze, eyes burning. “Isn’t it?”
She looked away, drawing in a breath before she asked, “You said you had successes before with your contracts. Tell me about them.”
Hades moved to a bar cabinet across the room, poured his drink of choice—whiskey—and took a seat on his black leather sofa. “What is there to tell? I have offered many mortals the same contract over the years. In exchange for money, fame, love—they must give up their vice. Some mortals are stronger than others and conquer their habit.”
“Conquering a disease is not about strength, Hades.”
“No one said anything about disease.”
“Addiction is a disease. It cannot be cured. It must be managed.”
“It is managed,” he argued.
“How? With more contracts?”
“That is another question.”
She lifted her hands, and they played another round. When she drew rock and he scissors, she didn’t celebrate but demanded, “How, Hades?”
“I do not ask them to give everything up at once. It is a slow process.”
They played again, and this time, Hades won. “What would you do?”
She blinked. “What?”
“What would you change? To help them?”
Her mouth fell open a little at his question. “First, I wouldn’t allow a mortal to gamble their soul away. Second, if you’re going to request a bargain, challenge them to go to rehab if they’re an addict—and do one better—pay for it. If I had all the money you have, I’d spend it helping people.”
He studied her a moment. “And if they relapsed?”
“Then what?” she asked. “Life is hard out there, Hades, and sometimes living it is penance enough. Mortals need hope, not threats of punishment.”
Silence stretched between them, and then Hades lifted his hands—another game. This time, when Hades won, he took her wrist and pulled her to him. He laid her palm flat, his fingers brushing the bandage Hecate had helped her tie. “What happened?”
She offered a breathy laugh. “It’s nothing compared to bruised ribs.”
Hades’ face hardened, and he was quiet. After a moment, he pressed a kiss to her palm, and she felt the healing warmth of his lips seal her skin. It happened so quickly she had no time to pull away.
“Why does it bother you so much?” She wasn’t sure why she was whispering. She guessed it was because this all felt so intimate—the way they sat, facing each other on the couch, leaning so close she could kiss him.
Instead of answering, he placed a hand on the side of her face, and Persephone swallowed thickly. If he kissed her now, she wouldn’t be responsible for what happened next.
Then the door to Hades’ study opened, and Minthe entered the room. She wore an electric blue dress that hugged her curves in ways that left little to the imagination, and Persephone was surprised by the shock of jealousy that ricocheted through her. She had a thought that if she were mistress of the Underworld, Minthe would always wear turtlenecks and knock before she entered any room.
The flaming-haired nymph stopped short when she saw Persephone sitting beside Hades, her anger obvious. A smile curled Persephone’s lips at the thought that Minthe might be jealous, too.
The god withdrew his hand from her face, and asked in an irritated voice, “Yes, Minthe?”
“My lord, Charon has requested your presence in the throne room.”
“Has he said why?”
“He has caught an intruder.”
Persephone looked at Hades. “An intruder? How? Would they not drown in the Styx?”
“If Charon caught an intruder it’s likely he attempted to sneak onto his ferry.” Hades stood and held out his hand. “Come, you will join me.”
Persephone took his hand—a move that Minthe watched with fire in her eyes before she twisted on her heels and left the study ahead of them. They followed her down the hall and to Hades’ cavernous, high-ceilinged throne room. Rounded glass windows let in muted light. Black flags bearing images of gold narcissus flanked either side of the room all the way to the precipice of Hades’ throne. Like him, it was sculpted and looked as if it were composed of thousands of pieces of shattered, sharp obsidian.
A man with umber skin stood there near the precipice, draped in white and crowned with gold. Two long braids hung over his shoulders, clamped with gold. His dark eyes first fell upon Hades, then on her.
Persephone tested Hades’ grip on her hand, but the god only held her tighter, guiding her past the Ferryman and up the steps to his throne. Hades waved his hand, and a smaller throne materialized beside his; Persephone hesitated.
“You are a goddess. You will sit in a throne.” He guided her to be seated and only then released her hand. When he took his place upon his throne, Persephone thought for a moment that he might drop his glamour, but he didn’t. “Charon, to what do I owe the interruption?”
“You’re Charon?” Persephone asked the man in white. He looked nothing like the drawings in her Ancient Greek textbook that always depicted him as either an old man, a skeleton, or a figure cloaked in black. This version almost resembled a god—beautiful and charming.
Charon grinned, and Hades’ jaw tightened. “I am indeed, my lady.”
“Please call me Persephone,” she said.
“My lady will do,” Hades said sharply. “I am growing impatient, Charon.”
The ferryman bowed his head. Persephone got the sense Charon was amused by Hades’ mood. “My lord, a man named Orpheus was caught sneaking onto my ferry. He wishes for an audience with you.”
“Show him in. I am eager to return to my conversation with Lady Persephone.”
Charon snapped his fingers, and a man appeared before them on his knees, hands tied behind his back. Persephone inhaled, surprised by the manner in which he’d been restrained. The man’s curly hair was plastered to his forehead, still dripping with river water from the Styx. He looked defeated.
“Is he dangerous?” Persephone asked.
Charon looked at Hades, so Persephone did, too.
“You can see to his soul. Is he dangerous?” she asked again.
She could tell by the way the veins in Hades’ neck rose that he was gritting his teeth. Finally, he said, “No.”
“Then release him from those bindings.”
Hades’ eyes bored into hers. Finally, he turned to the man and waved his hand. When the bonds disappeared, he fell forward, hitting the floor. As he climbed to his feet, he looked at Persephone. “Thank you, my lady.”
“Why have you come to the Underworld?” Hades asked.
Persephone was impressed; the mortal kept Hades’ gaze and showed no sign of fear. “I have come for my wife.” Hades did not respond, and the man continued. “I wish to propose a contract—my soul in exchange for hers.”
“I do not trade in souls, mortal,” the god answered.
“My lord, please—”
Hades held up his hand, and the man turned his gaze to Persephone, pleading.
“Do not look upon her for aid, mortal. She cannot help you.”
Persephone took that as a challenge. “Tell me of your wife.” She ignored Hades’ gaze burned and focused on Orpheus. “What was her name?”
“Eurydice. She died a day after we were married.”
“I am sorry. How did she die?”
“She just went to sleep and never woke up.” His voice broke.