CHAPTER II – NEVERNIGHT
Nevernight was a slender obsidian pyramid with no windows, taller than the bright buildings around it, and from a distance, looked like a disruption in the fabric of the city. The tower could be seen from anywhere in New Athens. Demeter the only reason Hades built the tower so tall was to remind mortals of their finite lives.
Persephone was beginning to grow anxious the longer she stood in the shadow of Hades’ club. Lexa had gone to talk to a couple of girls she recognized from school up the line, leaving her to hold their place alone. She was out of her element, surrounded by strangers, preparing to enter another god’s territory, and wearing a revealing dress. She found herself folding and unfolding her arms, unable to decide if she wanted to hide the low cut of the outfit or embrace it. She’d borrowed the pink sparkly number from Lexa, who was far less shapely. Persephone’s hair fell in loose curls around her face, and Lexa had applied minimal makeup to show off her natural beauty.
If her mother saw her now, she’d send her right back to the greenhouse, or as Persephone had come to refer to it, the glass prison.
That thought sent her stomach into a spiral. She looked around, wondering if Demeter’s spies were about. Had her threat to the waitress at The Coffee House been enough to keep the girl silent about her plans with Lexa? Since she’d told her best friend she’d come tonight, her imagination had run wild with all the ways Demeter might punish her if she was caught. Despite her mother’s nurturing ways, she was a vengeful punisher. In fact, Demeter had a whole plot in the greenhouse dedicated to punishment—every flower that grew there had been a nymph, a king, a creature that incurred her wrath.
It was that wrath that made Persephone paranoid and had her checking every mirror in her house when she’d returned to the apartment earlier.
“Oh, my gods!” Lexa was a vision in red, and eyes tracked her all the way back toto Persephone’s side. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”
Persephone almost laughed. She wasn’t as impressed with the grandeur of the gods; if they could flaunt their wealth, immortality and power, the least they could do was help humanity. Instead, the gods spent their time pitting mortal against mortal, destroying and reforming the world for fun.
Persephone looked up at the tower again and frowned. “Black’s not really my color.”
“You’ll sing a different tune when you lay eyes on Hades,” Lexa said.
Persephone glared at her roommate. “You told me he wasn’t here!”
Lexa placed her hands on Persephone’s shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “Persephone. Don’t get me wrong, you’re hot and all, but…what are the actual odds you’ll catch Hades’ attention? This place is packed.”
Lexa had a point—and yet, what if her glamour failed? Her horns would catch Hades’ attention. There was no way he’d pass up the chance to confront another god on his premises, especially one he’d never met.
Persephone’s stomach knotted, and she fidgeted with her hair and smoothed her dress. She wasn’t aware that Lexa was watching her until she said, “You know, you can just be honest and admit you’d like to meet him.”
Persephone’s laughter was shaky. “I don’t want to meet Hades.”
She wasn’t sure why it was so hard to say she was interested, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit that she might actually want to meet the god.
Lexa gave her a knowing look, but before her best friend could say anything, shouts came from the front of the line. Persephone peeked around to get a look at what was going on.
A man tried to take a swing at a large ogre guarding the entrance to the club—one of the notoriously ruthless and brutal creatures Hades employed to guard his fortress. Of course, it was a terrible idea; the ogre didn’t even blink as his hand closed down on the man’s wrist. Out of the shadows, two more ogres emerged, large and dressed in black.
“No! Wait! Please! I just want—I just need her back!” the man wailed as the creatures grabbed him and dragged him away.
It was a long while before Persephone could no longer hear his voice.
Beside her, Lexa sighed. “There’s always one.”
Persephone shot her an incredulous glance.
Lexa shrugged. “What? There’s always a story in the Delphi Divine about some mortal trying to break into the Underworld to rescue their loved ones.”
The Delphi Divine was Lexa’s favorite gossip magazine. There were few things that rivaled her obsession with the gods—except maybe fashion.
“But that’s impossible,” Persephone argued.
Everyone knew Hades was notorious for enforcing the borders of his realm—no soul in and no soul out without his knowledge.
Persephone had a feeling it was the same for his club.
And that thought sent shivers down her spine.
“Doesn’t keep people from trying,” Lexa said.
When she and Lexa stepped into the ogre’s line of sight, Persephone felt exposed. One glance at the creature’s beady eyes, and she almost called it quits. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and tried to avoid looking at the monster’s misshapen face for too long. It was covered in boils and its underbite exposed razor-sharp teeth. Even though the creature couldn’t see through her glamour—her mother’s magic surpassed that of the ogres—she knew her mother had many spies across New Athens. She couldn’t be too careful.
Lexa gave her name, and the ogre paused as he spoke into a mic pinned to the lapel of his jacket. After a moment, he reached forward and pulled open the door to Nevernight.
Persephone was surprised to find that the small space they entered was dim and silent, and the two ogres from earlier had returned and now occupied the space.
The creatures raked their gazes over Lexa and Persephone and asked, “Purses?”
They opened their clutches so the two could check for prohibited materials, including phones and cameras. The one rule at Nevernight was that photos were forbidden. In fact, Hades had this rule for any event he attended.
“How would Hades even know if some curious mortal snapped a photo?” Persephone had asked Lexa earlier when she explained the rule.
“I have no idea how he knows,” Lexa admitted. “I just know that he does, and the consequences aren’t worth it.”
“What are the consequences?”
“A broken phone, blackballed from Nevernight, and a write up in a gossip magazine.”
Persephone cringed. Hades was serious, and she guessed that made sense; the god was notoriously private. He hadn’t even been linked to a lover. Persephone doubted Hades had taken a vow of chastity like Artemis and Athena, and yet he managed to stay out of the public eye.
She sort of admired that about him.
Once they were cleared, the ogres opened another set of doors. Lexa grabbed Persephone’s hand and pulled her through. A blast of cool air hit her, carrying the scent of spirits, sweat, and something akin to bitter oranges.
Narcissus. Persephone recognized the scent.
The Goddess of Spring found herself on a balcony overlooking the floor of the club. There were people everywhere—crowded around tables playing cards and drinking at the bar shoulder to shoulder, their silhouettes ignited by a red backlight. Several plush booths were arranged in cozy settings and packed with people, but it was the center of the club that drew Persephone’s attention. A sunken dance floor held bodies like water in a basin. People moved against each other in a mesmerizing rhythm under a stream of red light. Overhead, the ceiling was lined with crystal and wrought-iron chandeliers.
“Come on!” Lexa pulled Persephone down a set of stairs to the ground floor. She held on tight to Lexa’s hand, afraid she would lose her as they wove through the crowd.
It took her a moment to figure out which direction her friend was going, but they soon reached the bar, squeezing into a space only big enough for one person.
“Two manhattans,” Lexa ordered. Just as she reached for her clutch, an arm snaked between them and threw down a few dollars.
A voice followed, “Drinks on me.”
Lexa and Persephone turned to find a man standing behind them. He had a jawline as sharp as a diamond and a head of thick, curly hair as dark as his eyes, and his skin a beautiful, burnished brown. He was one of the most handsome men Persephone had ever seen.
“Thanks,” Lexa breathed.
“No problem,” he said, flashing a set of pretty, white teeth—a welcome sight compared to the ogre’s grisly fangs. “First time at Nevernight?”
Lexa answered quickly, “Yes. You?”
“Oh…I’m a regular here,” he said.
Persephone glanced at Lexa, who blurted exactly what Persephone was thinking. “How?”
The man offered a warm laugh. “Just lucky, I guess.” He extended his hand. “Adonis.”
He shook Lexa’s hand and then Persephone’s as they gave him their names. “Would you like to join my table?”
“Sure,” they said in unison, giggling.
With their drinks in hand, Persephone and Lexa followed Adonis to one of the booths they had seen from the balcony. Each area had two crescent-shaped, velvet couches with a table between them. There were already several people there—six guys and five girls—but they shifted so Lexa and Persephone could have a seat.
“All, this is Lexa and Persephone.” Adonis pointed to his group of friends, saying their names, but Persephone only caught those who were closest to her—Aro and Xerxes were twins, sporting the same ginger hair, spray of freckles, pretty blue eyes and willow-thin bodies. Sybil was blond and beautiful, her long legs peeking out beneath her simple white dress; she sat between the twins and leaned over Aro to speak to Persephone and Lexa.”
“Where are you all from?” she asked.
“Ionia,” Lexa said.
“Olympia,” Persephone said.
The girl’s eyes widened. “You lived in Olympia? I bet it was beautiful!”
Persephone had lived far, far away from the city proper in her mother’s glass greenhouse and hadn’t seen much of Olympia. It was one of the most popular tourist destinations in New Greece, where the gods held Council and kept sprawling estates. When the Divine were away, many of the mansions and surrounding gardens were open to tour.
“It was beautiful,” Persephone agreed. “But New Athens is beautiful, too. I…didn’t really have much freedom in Olympia.”
Sybil offered a sympathetic smile. “Parents?”
Persephone nodded.
“We’re all from New Delphi, came here for college four years ago,” Aro said, gesturing to Sybil and his brother.
“We like the freedom here, too,” Xeres joked.
“What are you studying?” Persephone asked.
“Architecture,” the boys said in unison. “College of Hestia.”
“I’m in the College of the Divine.” Sybil said.
“Sybil is an Oracle.” Aro pointed to her with his thumb.
The girl blushed and averted her eyes.
“That means you’ll serve a god!” Lexa’s jaw dropped.
Oracles were coveted positions among mortals, and to become one they had to be born with certain prophetic gifts. Oracles acted as messengers for the gods. In ancient times, that meant serving in temples; now it meant serving as their press manager. Oracles gave statements and organized press circuits, especially when a god had something prophetic to communicate.
“Apollo’s already got his eye on her,” said Xeres.
Sybil rolled her eyes. “It’s not as wonderful as it sounds. My family was not happy.”
Sybil didn’t need to say it for Persephone to understand. Her parents were what the Faithful and the god-fearing called Impious.
The Impious were a group of mortals who rejected the gods when they came to Earth. Having already felt abandoned by them, they were not eager to obey. There had been a revolt, and two sides were born. Even the gods who supported the Impious used mortals like puppets, dragging them across battlefields, and for a year, destruction, chaos, and fighting had reigned. After the battle ended, the gods had promised a new life, something better than Elysium (apparently, Hades didn’t like that too well), but the gods delivered—they threaded together continents and dubbed the landmass New Greece, splicing it into territories with great, gleaming cities.
“Well, my parents would have been ecstatic,” Lexa said.
Persephone met Sybil’s gaze. “I’m sorry they weren’t excited for you.”
She shrugged. “It’s better now that I’m here.”
Persephone got the feeling she and Sybil had a lot in common when it came to their parents.
Several shots later, the conversation lapsed into hilarious stories of the trio’s friendship, and Persephone became distracted by her surroundings. She noticed small details like strands of tiny lights overhead that looked like stars in the dark above, single-stemmed narcissuses on the tables at each booth, and the wrought-iron rails of the second story balcony where a lone figure loomed.
That’s where her gaze stayed, meeting a pair of shadowy eyes.
Had she thought earlier that Adonis was the most handsome man she’d ever seen?
She’d been wrong.
That man was now staring at her.
She couldn’t tell the color of his eyes, but they ignited a fire under her skin, and it was like he knew; his full lips curved into a harsh smile, drawing attention to his strong jaw covered in dark stubble. He was big, well over six and a half feet tall, and dressed in darkness from his inky hair to his black suit.
Her throat went dry and she was suddenly uncomfortable. She fidgeted and crossed her legs, instantly regretting the move, because the man’s gaze fell there and held for a moment before sliding back up her frame, snagging on her curves. The fire pooled low in her stomach, reminding her of how empty she felt, how desperately she needed to be filled up.
Who was this man, and how could she possibly feel this way about a stranger? She needed to break this connection that had created such a suffocating energy between them.
All it took was seeing a pair of delicate hands slip around the man’s waist from behind. She didn’t wait to see the woman’s face; she turned toward Lexa and cleared her throat.
The group had moved on to talking about the Pentathlon—an annual athleticism competition with five different sporting events, including a long jump, javelin throw, discus throw, a wrestling match, and a series of short races. It was hugely popular in the highly competitive cities of New Greece, and while Persephone wasn’t really a sports fan, she did love the spirit of the Pentathlon and enjoyed cheering for New Athens in the tournament. She tried to follow the conversation, but her body was charged, and her mind was on other things—like how it would feel to be taken by the man on the balcony. He could fill this emptiness, feed this fire, end her suffering.