A Touch of Darkness: Chapter 10

Persephone arrived at the Acropolis early on Monday. She wanted to start her article, and Hades had given her more than enough to work with during her visit to the Underworld. She was still angry with him for how he had treated Orpheus, could still hear his bitter laugh at the poor man’s expression of love for his deceased wife, and it made her shiver.

At least he had shown his true nature—and at the precise instant she had begun to think he possessed a conscience.

When she stepped off the elevator on her floor, she found Adonis standing at the front with Valerie, leaning over her desk and chatting. They immediately stopped talking when she arrived, and Persephone felt like she was intruding on a private moment.

“Persephone, you’re here early.” Adonis cleared his throat and straightened.

“Just hoping to get a head start. I have a lot to do,” she said, and passed them, heading straight for her desk.

Adonis followed. “How’d Nevernight go?”

She froze for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“Hades invited you to Nevernight before we left the interview. How did it go?”

“It was fine.” She stowed her purse and opened her laptop.

“I thought he might convince you not to write about him.”

Persephone took a seat and frowned. She hadn’t considered that Hades’ intention in inviting her on a tour of the Underworld might be a tactic to keep her from writing about him. “At this point, nothing could convince me not to write about him. Even Hades himself.”

Especially Hades. Every time he opened his mouth, she found another reason to dislike him, even if that mouth inflamed her.

Adonis smiled, oblivious to her treacherous thoughts. “You’re going to make a great journalist, Persephone.” He took a step back and pointed at her. “Don’t forget to send me the article. You know, when you’re finished.”

“Right,” she said.

When she was alone, she attempted to sort out her thoughts on the God of the Dead. So far, she felt like she’d seen two sides to him. One was a manipulative, powerful god who’d been exiled from the world so long he didn’t seem to understand people. That same god had bound her to a contract with the very hands he’d used to heal her. He’d been so careful and gentle until it came to kissing, and then his passion was barely restrained.

It was like he starved for her.

But that couldn’t be true—because he was a god and he had lived for centuries, which meant centuries of experience, and she was only obsessing over this because she had none.

She hung her head in her hands, frustrated with herself. She needed to reignite the anger she felt when Hades so arrogantly admitted to abusing his power under the pretense that he was helping mortals.

Her eyes fell to the notes she’d taken after interviewing him. She’d written so fast, the words were hardly legible, but after a few careful readings she was able to piece it together.

If it is help Hades truly wants to offer, he should challenge the addict to rehab. Why not go a step further and pay for it?

She sat up a little straighter and typed that out, feeling the anger spark in her bloodstream again. It was like flame to an accelerant, and soon her fingers flew across the keys, adding word after angry word.

I see the soul. What burdens it, what corrupts it, what destroys it—and challenge it.

Those words pierced all the wrong parts of her. What was it like to be the God of the Underworld? To only see the struggle, the pain, and the vices of others?

It sounded miserable.

Nothing.

She stopped typing and sat back, taking a deep breath.

She had never felt so many emotions about a single person before. She was angry with him, and curious, caught between surprise and disgust at the things he had created and the things he said. At war with both of those was the extreme attraction she felt when she was with him.

How could she want him? He represented the opposite of everything she’d dreamed of in her whole life. He was her jailer when all she’d wanted was freedom.

Except that he had freed something inside her. Something long-repressed and never explored.

Passion and lust and desire—probably all the things Hades looked for in a burdened soul.

She flexed her fingers over the keyboard and imagined what it would be like to kiss him with all this anger in her veins.

He only kissed her to bestow favor so she wouldn’t cause any chaos for him. More than likely, her near-death experience in the Underworld had taken him away from important things.

Like Minthe.

She rolled her eyes and focused on her screen again, reading the last line she’d typed.

If this is the god we are presented with in our life, what god will we meet upon our death? What hopes can we have of a happy afterlife?

Those words stung, and she knew she was probably being a little unfair. After touring part of the Underworld, it was clear Hades cared about his realm and those who occupied it. Why else would he go through the trouble of maintaining such a grand illusion?

Her desk phone rang suddenly, scaring her so badly she jumped and fumbled to pick up the receiver, silencing the sound.

“Persephone speaking.” Her heart was still racing, and she took a deep breath to calm herself.

“Persephone, it’s Valerie. I think your mother is here?”

Her racing heart fell into her stomach. What was Demeter doing here?

She worried her lip for a moment—had Demeter found out about her visit to the Underworld over the weekend? She recalled her words in the Garden of the Gods—

“I’ll be right up.” Persephone managed to keep her voice even.

It was easy to spot Demeter. She looked as close to her Divine form as possible, maintaining her sun-kissed glow and bright eyes. She wore a light pink sundress and white heels that stood out against the muted wall.

“My flower!” Demeter approached her with open arms, pulling Persephone into a hug.

“Mother.” Persephone pushed away. “What are you doing here?”

Demeter cocked her head to the side. “It’s Monday.”

It took a moment for Persephone to remember what that meant.

Oh no.

The color drained from her face.

How could she have forgotten? Every Monday she and her mother had lunch, but with everything that had happened in the last few days, it completely slipped her mind.

“There is a lovely café down the street,” Demeter continued, but Persephone sensed the tightness in her voice. She knew Persephone had forgotten, and she didn’t like it. “I thought we might try it today. What do you think?”

Persephone thought that she didn’t want to be alone with her mother. Not to mention she had just gained the momentum needed to write this article about Hades; if she stopped now, she might not finish.

“Mother, I’m…so sorry.” Those words felt like glass coming out of her mouth. They were a lie, of course—she wasn’t sorry for what she was about to say. “I’m really busy today. Can we reschedule.”

Demeter blinked. “Reschedule?”

She said the word like she had never heard it before. Her mother hated when things didn’t go her way, and Persephone had never asked her to rearrange her schedule. She’d always remembered lunch like she always remembered her mother’s rules—two things she’d ignored in the last week.

She knew her mother was making a list of offenses she had committed against her and it was just a matter of time before Demeter made her pay.

“I’m so sorry, Mother,” Persephone said again.

Demeter finally met her gaze. The Goddess of Harvest tightened her jaw, and managed in a perfectly flat tone, “Another time, then.”

Demeter turned on her heels without saying goodbye and stormed out of the office.

Persephone released the breath she’d been holding. She’d spent all this time preparing to fight with her mother, and now that the adrenaline was gone, she felt exhausted.

“Wow, your mother is beautiful.” Valerie’s comment drew Persephone’s gaze. The girl had a dreamy look on her face. “It’s too bad you couldn’t go to lunch with her.”

“Yeah,” Persephone said.

She made her way back to her desk slowly, weighed down by a cloud of guilt—until she noticed Adonis standing behind her chair, looking at her laptop screen.

“Adonis,” she slammed her laptop closed as she reached the desk. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, hey, Persephone,” he smiled. “Just reading your article.”

“It’s not finished.” She tried to remain calm, but it was hard when he’d just invaded her privacy.

“I think it’s good,” he said. “You’ve really got something.”

“Thanks, but I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t look at my computer, Adonis.”

He sort of laughed. “I’m not going to steal your work, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I told you I’d send the article when I was finished!”

He put his hands up and stepped away from her desk. “Hey, calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” she said between her teeth. She hated when people told her to calm down; the disparaging remark only made her angrier.

“I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I don’t really care what you meant,” she snapped.

Adonis was finally silent. She guessed he realized he wasn’t going to be able to charm his way out of this one.

“Everything okay out here?” Demetri appeared at his door, and Persephone glared at Adonis.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Adonis said.

“Persephone?” Demetri looked at her expectantly.

She should have told him no, that in fact everything was not fine—that she was balancing an impossible contract with the God of the Underworld and hiding the fact from her mother, who would ensure she never saw the gleaming skyscrapers of New Athens again if she found out. On top of that, this mortal seemed to think it was perfectly acceptable to read her personal thoughts—because that’s what this was, a draft of an article she was planning.

And maybe that’s why she was so angry; because the words she’d written were raw, furious, and impassioned. They made her vulnerable, and if she opened her mouth to contradict Adonis, she wasn’t sure what would come out.

She took a deep breath before forcing the words out, “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

And when she saw the smug expression on Adonis’s face, she got the sense she’d regret lying.

***

A few days later, Persephone was late getting to Nevernight. Her study group had run over, and though she was tired, she knew she needed to check on her garden. The dirt in the Underworld held moisture like the desert, which meant she had to water her garden every day if she wanted it to have a chance in hell of surviving.

She stepped off the bus to the scrutiny of the line waiting to enter Hades’ club, all staring at her like she’d grown talons and wings. She was sharply aware of her appearance, dressed in yoga pants and a tank, long hair still pulled into a messy bun from the start of her study session—she hadn’t bothered to even look in the mirror today, and she hadn’t wanted to waste time running home to change just to water a garden. The thought of squeezing into a dress and heels at this point in the day made her cringe, anyway. Hades and these club-goers would just have to deal with it.

Mekonnen emerged from the dark. He wore a scowl until he recognized her, and then a charming, yellow smile spread across his face as he reached for the door. “My lady—I mean, Persephone.”

“Good evening, Mekonnen.” She grinned at the ogre as she passed into the club.

Persephone paused in the dark foyer. She preferred not to enter the club proper this time, and decided to teleport. She snapped her fingers and expected to feel the familiar shift in the air around her.

But nothing happened.

She tried again.

Still nothing.

She would just have to go to Hades’ office and enter the Underworld there.

She kept her head down as she cut through the packed floor of the club. She knew people were staring, and she could feel her face growing flush with their judgment.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder. She turned, expecting to find an ogre or another one of Hades’ employees stopping her because of the way she was dressed. An argument was poised on the tip of her tongue, but when she turned, she looked into a familiar pair of gold eyes.

“Hermes,” she said, relieved. Even glamoured up, he was ridiculously handsome in his white shirt and grey pants, drink already in hand. His golden hair was perfectly styled—shorn on the sides, long curls on top, catching the light.

“Sephy!” he exclaimed. “What are you wearing?”

She looked down at herself, though she didn’t need to. She knew perfectly well what she was wearing. “I just came from class.”

“College chic,” he raised his golden brows. “Hot.”

She rolled her eyes and twisted away from him, making her way toward the steps. The God of Trickery followed.

“What are you doing here?” Persephone asked.

“Well, I am the Messenger of the Gods,” he said.

“No, what are you doing here? On the floor of Nevernight?”

“Gods gamble, too, Sephy,” he answered.

“Don’t call me that,” she said. “And why would gods gamble with Hades?”

“For the thrill,” Hermes smiled mischievously.

Persephone topped the stairs with Hermes in tow.

“Where are we going, Sephy?”

She thought it was funny that he included himself in that statement. “

“He won’t be in there,” Hermes said, and it occurred to her that perhaps he didn’t know about her and Hades’ bargain.

She looked at the god, and though she wasn’t here to see Hades, she still wondered aloud, “Then where is he?”

Hermes grinned. “He is reviewing propositions for contracts across the way.”

Persephone’s jaw tightened.

“I’m not here for Hades,” she said, and hurried ahead to his office. Once inside, she dropped her backpack on the couch and rolled her shoulders, rubbing at the pain.

She looked up to find Hermes at the bar, picking up various bottles and reading the labels. Whatever he had in his hands must have been appealing, because he unscrewed it and poured it into an empty glass.

“Should you be doing that?” she asked.

The god shrugged. “Hades owes me, right? I saved your life.”

Persephone looked away. “

“Careful, Goddess. One bargain with a god is enough, don’t you think?”

She startled. “You know?”

Hermes smiled. “Sephy, I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“You must think I’m incredibly stupid,” she said.

“No. I think you were lured by Hades’ charms.”

“So, you agree Hades has wronged me?”

“No,” he said. “I’m saying you’re attracted to him.”

Persephone rolled her eyes and turned from the god. She crossed Hades’ office and tried the invisible door behind his desk, but her hands didn’t sink into the surface like last time.

Her way into the Underworld was barred. Had he revoked her favor because she’d brought Adonis to Nevernight? Or was he angry because of how she’d left him in his throne room a few days before? Hadn’t he bestowed favor so she wouldn’t have to bother him?

The doors to Hades’ office rattled suddenly, and Hermes grabbed Persephone and dragged her toward the mirror over the mantle. She resisted, but Hermes pressed his lips close to her ear and murmured, “Trust me, you’ll want to see this.”

He snapped his fingers, and Persephone felt her skin tighten across her bones. It was the strangest feeling, and it didn’t go away even when they were inside the mirror. The sensation was like being behind a waterfall and looking out at the hazy world.

She started to ask if they could be seen, but Hermes pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh.”

Hades came into view on the other side of the mirror and Persephone’s breath caught—no matter how often she saw him, she didn’t think she’d ever get used to his beauty. Today he looked tense and severe. She wondered what had happened.

She soon received her answer; Minthe followed close behind and Persephone felt a rush of hot jealousy at the sight of her.

They were arguing.

“You are wasting your time!” Minthe said.

“It’s not like I’m running out,” Hades snapped, clearly not wanting to listen to the nymph lecture him.

Minthe’s face hardened. “This is a “This club is what I say it is.”

Minthe glared at him. “You think this will sway the goddess to think better of you?”

The goddess? Was Minthe referring to her?

Hades’ eyes darkened at the comment. “I do not care what others think of me, and that includes you, Minthe.” Her face fell, and Hades continued, “I will hear her offer.”

The nymph said nothing, and turned on her heels, walking out of sight. After a moment, a woman entered Hades’ office. She wore a beige trench coat, a large sweater, and jeans, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. Despite being fairly young, she looked exhausted, and Persephone didn’t need Hades’ powers to know that whatever burden she carried at this point in her life was heavy.

When the woman saw the god, she froze.

“You have nothing to fear,” Hades said in his warm, soothing baritone, and the mortal was able to move again.

She offered a small, nervous laugh, and when she spoke, her voice was rough. “I told myself I wouldn’t hesitate. I wouldn’t let fear get the best of me.”

Hades tilted his head to the side. Persephone knew that look—he was curious. “But you have been afraid. For a very long time.”

The woman nodded, and tears spilled down her face. She brushed at them fiercely, hands shaking, and offered that nervous laugh again. “I told myself I wouldn’t cry, either.”

“Why?”

Persephone was glad Hades asked, because she was just as curious. When the woman met the god’s gaze, she was serious, her face still glistening with tears. “The Divine are not moved by my pain.”

Persephone flinched—Hades did not.

“I suppose I cannot blame you,” the woman continued. “I am one in a million pleading for myself.”

Again, Hades tilted his head. “But you are not pleading for yourself, are you?”

The woman’s mouth quivered, and she answered in a whisper, “No.”

“Tell me,” he coaxed—it was like a spell, and the woman obeyed.

“My daughter.” The words were a sob. “She’s sick. Pineoblastoma. It’s an aggressive cancer. I wager my life for hers.”

“No!” Persephone said out loud, and Hermes quickly hushed her, but all she could think was, Hades studied the woman for a long moment. “My wagers are not for souls like you.”

Persephone started forward. She would come out of this mirror and fight for that woman, but Hermes held onto her shoulder tight. “

Persephone held her breath.

“Please,” the woman whispered. “I will give you anything—whatever you want.”

Hades dared to laugh. “You could not give me what I want.”

The woman stared, and Persephone’s heart wrenched at the look in her eyes. She was defeated. The woman hung her head, and her shoulders shook as she sobbed into her hands. “You were my last hope. My last hope.”

Hades approached her, placed his fingers under her chin, and lifted her head. After he brushed her tears away, he said, “I will not enter into a contract with you because I do not wish to take from you. That does not mean I will not help you.”

The woman gaped—Persephone eyes widened, and Hermes chuckled under his breath.

“Your daughter has my favor. She will be well and just as brave as her mother, I think.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” The woman threw her arms around Hades, and the god stiffened, clearly unsure of what to do. Finally, he conceded, and embraced her. After a moment, he pulled her away and said, “Go. See to your daughter.”

The woman took a few steps back. “You are the most generous god.”

Hades offered a dark chuckle. “I will amend my previous statement. In exchange for my favor, you will tell no one I have aided you.”

The woman looked surprised. “But—”

Hades put up his hand—he would hear no argument.

Finally, the woman nodded. “Thank you.” She turned to leave, practically racing out of the office. “Thank you!”

Hades watched the door for a moment before locking it with a snap of his fingers. Before Persephone knew what was happening, she and Hermes fell out of the mirror.

Persephone wasn’t prepared and hit the floor with a loud thud. Hermes landed on his feet.

“Rude,” the God of Trickery said.

“I could say the same,” The God of the Dead replied, his eyes falling unfavorably to Persephone as she got to her feet. “Hear everything you wanted?”

“I It was like she hadn’t even spoken. Hades’ gaze turned to Hermes. “I have a job for you, messenger.”

Hades snapped his fingers, and without warning, Persephone was dumped in her desolate garden on her backside. A growl of frustration erupted from her mouth, and as she got to her feet, brushing dirt off her clothes, she yelled to the sky.

“Ass!”