A Touch of Darkness: Chapter 2

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 The “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.

“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.

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.

Except that he was obviously taken—and if not taken, otherwise engaged with another woman.

She resisted looking over her shoulder to see if he remained on the balcony until her curiosity won out, but when she looked, the balcony was empty. She frowned, disappointed, and craned her neck, searching the crowd.

“Looking for Hades?” Adonis joked, and Persephone’s gaze snapped to his.

“Oh, no—”

“I heard he was here tonight,” Lexa interrupted.

Adonis laughed. “Yeah, he’s usually upstairs.”

“What’s upstairs?” Persephone asked.

“A lounge. It’s quieter. More intimate. I guess he prefers the peace when he’s negotiating his terms.”

“Terms?” Persephone echoed.

“Yeah, you know, for his contracts. Mortals come here to play him for things—money or love or whatever. The fucked-up part is, if the mortal loses, he gets to pick the stakes. And he’ll usually ask them to do something impossible.”

“What do you mean?”

“Apparently he can see vices or whatever. So he’ll ask the alcoholic to remain sober and the sex addict to be chaste. If they meet the terms, they get to live. If they fail, he gets their soul. It’s like he wants them to lose.”

Persephone felt a little sick. She hadn’t known the extent of Hades’ gambling; the most she’d heard was that he asked for the mortal’s soul, but this sounded much, much worse. It was…manipulation.

How did Hades know these mortals’ weaknesses? Did he consult the Fates or possess this power himself?

“Is anyone allowed up there?” Persephone asked.

“If you’re given the password,” Adonis said.

“How do you get the password?” Lexa asked.

Adonis shrugged. “Hell if I know. I don’t come here to bargain with the God of the Dead.”

Though she had no desire to enter into a bargain with Hades, Persephone did wonder how people came by the password. How did Hades accept a wager? Did mortals offer their case to the god who then deemed it worthy?

Lexa stood, grabbing Persephone’s free hand. “Persephone, bathroom.”

She dragged her across the crowded floor to the restroom. While they waited at the end of the long line, Lexa leaned toward Persephone, a huge smile plastered on her face.

“Have you seen a more attractive male?” she gushed.

Persephone’s brows lowered. “Adonis?”

“Of course, Adonis! Who else?”

Persephone would have liked to inform Lexa that while she was ogling Adonis, she’d missed the man who truly deserved the term. Instead, she said, “You’re smitten.”

“I’m in love.”

Persephone rolled her eyes. “You can’t be in love, you just met him!”

“Okay, maybe not love. But if he asked me to carry his babies, I’d agree.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“Just honest,” she grinned. Then she looked at Persephone seriously and said, “It’s okay to be vulnerable, you know?”

“What do you mean?” Persephone’s question was snappier than she intended.

Lexa shrugged. “Never mind.”

Persephone wanted to ask her to elaborate, but before she could, a stall opened, and Lexa took it. Persephone waited, sorting through her thoughts, trying to figure out what Lexa might have been talking about, when another one opened.

After Persephone emerged from the restroom, she looked for Lexa, expecting her to be waiting, but didn’t see her among the crowd. She looked toward the balcony where Hades supposedly made his deals; had her friend wandered up?

Then her gaze met a pair of sea-green eyes; a woman was leaning against the column at the end of the stairs. Persephone thought she looked familiar but couldn’t place her. Her hair was like gold silk and as radiant as Helios’ sun, her skin the color of cream, and she wore a modern version of a peplos that matched her eyes.

“Looking for someone?” she asked.

“My friend,” Persephone said. “She was wearing red.”

“She went up.” The woman tilted her chin toward the steps, and Persephone followed her gaze. “Have you been there?”

“Oh, no, I haven’t,” Persephone said.

“I can give you the password.”

“How did you get the password?”

The woman shrugged. “Here and there,” she paused. “So?”

Persephone couldn’t deny she was curious. This was the thrill she’d been seeking—the adventure she craved. “Tell me.”

The woman chuckled, her eyes glittering in a way that made Persephone wary. “Pathos.”

“Th-thanks,” she said, and headed up the spiral steps to the second floor. As she topped the stairs, she found nothing but a set of dark doors embellished with gold and a gorgon standing guard.

The creature’s face was badly scarred—evident even with the white blindfold covering her eyes. Like others of her kind, she once had snakes in place of hair. Now, a white hooded cloak covered her head and hid her body.

As Persephone approached, she noticed the walls were reflective, and she caught herself in the surface, observing the blush of her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes. Her glamour had weakened since she’d been here. She hoped if anyone noticed, she could blame it on the excitement and alcohol. Persephone wasn’t sure why she felt so nervous; maybe it was because she didn’t know what to expect beyond those doors.

The gorgon lifted her head, but did not speak. For a moment, there was silence, and then the creature inhaled, and she froze.

“Divine,” the gorgon purred.

“Excuse me?” Persephone asked.

“Goddess.”

“You are mistaken.”

The gorgon laughed. “I may have no eyes, but I know a god when I smell one. What hope have you of entering?”

“You are bold for a creature who knows they speak with a goddess,” Persephone said.

The gorgon smiled. “Only a goddess when it serves you?”

“Pathos!” Persephone snapped.

The gorgon’s smile remained, but she opened the door and asked no more questions. “Enjoy, my lady.”

Persephone glared at the monster as she entered a smaller, smoky room. Unlike the main floor of the club, this space was intimate and quiet. Overhead, there was a single, large chandelier that provided enough light to ignite tables and faces, but not much else. There were several clusters of people gathered, playing cards, and none of them seemed to notice her.

When the door clicked shut behind her, she started to explore, looking for Lexa, but found herself distracted by the people and the games. She watched as graceful hands dispensed cards and listened as players at the tables bantered back and forth. Then she came to an oval table where the occupants were leaving. She wasn’t sure what drew her to it, but she decided to sit.

The dealer nodded. “Madam.”

“Do you play?” A voice asked from behind her. It was a deep rumble she felt in her chest.

She turned and met a pair of endless eyes. The man from the balcony stood in her shadow. Her blood heated to an unbearable level, making her flush. She squeezed her crossed legs together and clenched her hands into fists to keep from fidgeting under his gaze.

Up close she was able to fill in a few gaps in her assessment of his appearance. He was beautiful in a dark way—in a way that promised heartbreak. His eyes were the color of obsidian and framed by thick lashes, his hair pulled into a bun at the back of his head. She had been right that he was tall; she had to tip her head back just to meet his gaze.

When Persephone’s chest started to ache, she realized she had been holding her breath since the man approached. Slowly, she drew in air and with it, the smell of him—smoke and spice and winter air. It filled every empty place inside her.

As she stared, he took a sip from his glass, licking his lips clean. He was sin incarnate. She could feel it in the way her body responded to his—and she didn’t want him to know. So she smiled and said, “I’m willing to play if you’re willing to teach.”

His lips quirked, and he raised a dark brow. He took another drink, then approached the table, taking a seat beside her. “It’s brave to sit down at a table without knowing the game.”

She met the man’s gaze. “How else would I learn?”

“Hmm.” He considered, and Persephone decided she loved his voice. “Clever.”

The man stared like he was trying to place her, and she shivered.

“I have never seen you before.”

“Well, I’ve never been here before,” she said and paused. “You must come here often.”

His lips quirked. “I do.”

“Why?” she asked. Persephone was surprised she said that aloud—and so was the man. His brows rose. She tried to recover. “I mean—you don’t have to answer that.”

“I will answer it. If you will answer a question for me.”

She stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “Fine.”

“I come because it is…

“My friend Lexa was on the list,” she said.

“No. That is the answer to a different question. Why are you here tonight?”

She considered his question, then said, “It seemed rebellious at the time.”

“And now you aren’t so sure?”

“Oh, I am sure it’s rebellious.” Persephone dragged her finger along the surface of the table. “I’m just not sure how I’ll feel about it tomorrow.”

“Who are you rebelling against?”

She looked at him and smiled. “You said one question.”

His smile matched hers and it made her heart beat harder in her chest. “So I did.”

Staring back at those endless eyes, she felt he could see her—not the glamour or even her skin and bones, but the core of her, and it made her shiver.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“What?”

“You’ve been shivering since you sat down.”

She felt her face redden. “Who was that woman with you earlier?”

Confusion clouded his face and then cleared. “Oh, Minthe. She’s always putting her hands where they don’t belong.”

Persephone paled—she sounded like a mistress, and if that was the case, she wasn’t interested. “I…think I should go.”

He stopped her with a hand on hers. His touch was electric and warmed her from the inside out. She pulled away quickly.

“No,” he said, almost commanding, and Persephone glared at him.

“Excuse me?”

“What I mean to say is, I haven’t taught you how to play yet.” His voice lowered to a mesmerizing rumble. “Allow me.”

It was a mistake to hold his gaze, because it was impossible to say no when she did. She swallowed and managed to relax. “Then teach me.”

His eyes burned into her before falling to the cards. He shuffled them, explaining, “This is poker.”

She noted that he had graceful hands and long fingers. Did he play piano?

“We will play five-card draw and we’ll start with a bet.”

Persephone looked down at herself—she hadn’t brought her clutch, but the man was quick to say, “A question answered, then. If I win, you will answer any question I pose, and if you win, I will answer yours.”

Persephone grimaced. She knew what he was going to ask, but answering questions was far better than losing all her money and her soul, so she said, “Deal.”

Those sensual lips curled into a smile, which deepened lines on his face that only made him look more attractive. Who was this man? She guessed she could ask his name, but she wasn’t interested in making friends at Nevernight.

While dealing each of them five cards, the man explained that, in poker, there were ten different rankings, the lowest being the high card and the highest being the royal flush. The goal was to draw a higher rank than the other player. He explained other things, like checking, folding, and bluffing.

“Bluffing?” Persephone echoed.

“Sometimes, poker is just a game of deception…especially when you’re losing.”

Persephone looked at her hand and tried to remember what he’d said about the different ranks. She laid her cards down, face up, and the man did the same.

“You have a pair of queens,” he said. “And I have a full house.”

“So…you win,” she said.

“Yes,” he replied, and claimed his prize immediately. “Who are you rebelling against?”

She smiled wryly. “My mother.”

He raised a brow. “Why?”

“You’ll have to win another hand if I’m going to answer.”

He dealt another and won again. This time, he didn’t ask the question, just looked at her expectantly.

She sighed. “Because…she made me mad.”

He stared at her, waiting, and she smiled. “You never said the answer had to be detailed.”

His grin matched hers. “Noted for the future, I assure you.”

“The future?”

“Well, I hope this isn’t the last time we’ll play poker.”

Butterflies erupted in her stomach. She should tell him this was the first and final time she would come to Nevernight.

Except she couldn’t make herself say the words.

He dealt again and won. Persephone was getting tired of losing and answering this man’s questions. Why was he so interested in her, anyway? Where was that woman he’d been with earlier?

“Why are you angry with your mother?”

She considered this question for a moment. “She wants me to be something I can’t.” Persephone dropped her gaze to the cards. “I don’t understand why people do this.”

He tilted his head. “You are not enjoying our game?”

“I am. But…I don’t understand why people play “They don’t agree to a game because they want to sell their soul,” he said. “They do it because they think they can win.”

“Do they? Win?”

“Sometimes.”

“Does that anger him, you think?” The question was meant to remain a thought in her head, and yet the words slipped out between her lips.

He smirked, and she could feel it deep in her gut. “Darling, I win either way.”

Her eyes went wide, and her heart stuttered. She stood quickly, and his name fell from her mouth like a curse.

“Hades.”

His name on her tongue seemed to have an effect on him, but she couldn’t tell if it was good or bad—his eyes darkened, and his smile lines melted into a hard, unreadable mask.

“I have to go.”

She spun and left the small room.

This time, she didn’t let him stop her; she hurried down the winding steps and plunged into the mass of bodies on the main floor. All the while, she was highly aware of the spot on her wrist where Hades’ fingers had touched her skin. Was it an exaggeration to say it burned?

It took her a while to find the exit, and when she did, she pushed through the doors. Outside, she took a few deep breaths before hailing a taxi. Climbing inside, she sent a quick text to Lexa, letting her know she was leaving, and while she felt bad, it didn’t seem fair to make Lexa leave early just because she couldn’t stay in that tower another minute.

The force of what she’d done hit her.

She’d allowed Hades, the God of the Underworld, to instruct her, to touch her, to play her, and question her.

And he had won.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

No, the worst part was that there was a side of her—a side she’d never known existed until tonight—that wanted to run back inside, find him, and demand a lesson in the anatomy of his body.