A Touch of Darkness: Chapter 3

Morning came fast.

Persephone checked the mirror to ensure her glamour was in place. It was weak magic because it was borrowed, but it was enough to hide her horns and turn her bottle-green eyes mossy.

She reached up to apply a touch more glamour to her eyes. They were the hardest to get right, and it took the most magic to dull their bright, abnormal light. As she did, she halted, noticing something on her wrist.

Something dark.

She took a closer look. A series of black dots marked her skin, some smaller, others larger. It looked like a simple, elegant tattoo had been inked on her arm.

And it was wrong.

Persephone turned the faucet on and scrubbed her skin until it was red and raw, but the ink didn’t move or smear. In fact, it seemed to darken.

Then she remembered yesterday at Nevernight when Hades’ hand had covered hers to keep her from leaving. The warmth of his skin transferred to hers, but when she fled the club later, that warmth turned to a burn, which only intensified when she went to bed last night.

She’d turned on the light several times to inspect her wrist but found nothing.

Until this morning.

Persephone lifted her gaze to the mirror and her glamour rippled from her anger. Why had she obeyed his request to stay? Why had she been blind to the fact that she had invited the God of the Dead to teach her cards?

She knew why. She’d been distracted by his beauty. Why hadn’t anyone warned her that Hades was a charming bastard? That his smile stole breath and his gaze stopped hearts?

What was this thing on her wrist and what did it mean?

She knew one thing for certain: Hades was going to tell her.

Today.

Before she could return to the obsidian tower, however, she had to go to her internship. Her eyes fell to a pretty embellished box her mother had given her. It sat on the corner of her vanity and held jewelry, but at twelve, it had contained five gold seeds. Demeter had crafted them from her magic and said they would bloom into roses the color of liquid gold for her, the Goddess of Spring.

Persephone planted them and did her best to nurture the flowers, but instead of growing into the blossoms she expected, they grew withered and black.

She would never forget the look on her mother’s face when she found her staring at the wilted roses—shocked, disappointed, and in disbelief that her daughter’s flowers grew from the ground like something straight out of the Underworld.

Demeter had reached forward, touched the flowers, and they flared with life.

Persephone never went near them again, and avoided that part of the greenhouse.

Looking at the box, the mark on her skin burned as hot as her shame. She couldn’t let her mother find out.

She searched through the box until she found a bracelet wide enough to cover the mark. It would have to do until Hades removed it.

Persephone returned to her room, but didn’t make it far when her mother materialized in front of her. Persephone jumped, and her heart felt like it wanted to jump out of her chest.

“By the gods, Mother! Can you at least use the door like a normal parent? And On a normal day, she wouldn’t have snapped, but she was feeling on edge. Demeter couldn’t find out about Nevernight.. She did a quick inventory of everything she’d worn last night—the dress was in Lexa’s room, the shoes in her closet, and she’d shoved the jewelry in her purse which hung on her doorknob.

The Goddess of Harvest was beautiful and didn’t bother to glamour up to hide her elegant, seven-point antlers. Her hair was blond like Persephone’s, but straight and long. She had glowing skin and her high cheekbones were naturally rosy like her lips. Demeter lifted her pointed chin, assessing Persephone with critical eyes—eyes that changed from brown to green to gold.

“Nonsense,” she said, taking Persephone’s chin between her thumb and forefinger, applying more magic. Persephone knew what she was doing without looking in the mirror—covering her freckles, brightening the color in her cheeks, and straightening her wavy hair. Demeter liked when Persephone resembled her, and Persephone preferred to look as little like her mother as possible. “You might be playing mortal, but you can still look Divine.”.

Persephone rolled her eyes. Her appearance was just another way she disappointed her mother.

“There!” Demeter finally exclaimed, releasing her chin. “Beautiful.”

Persephone looked in the mirror. She had been right—Demeter had covered up everything Persephone liked about herself. Still, she managed a forced, “Thank you, Mother.”

“It was nothing, my flower.” Demeter patted her cheek. “So, tell me about this…

The word sounded like a curse coming from Demeter’s lips. Persephone ground her teeth together. She was surprised by how fast and furious the anger tore through her. “It’s an internship, Mother. If I do well, I might have a job when I graduate.”

Demeter frowned. “Dear, you know you do not have to work.”

“So you say,” she muttered under her breath.

“What was that?”

Persephone turned to her mother and said louder, “I want to do this. I’m good at it.”

“You are good at so many things, Kore.”

“Don’t call me that!” Persephone snapped, and her mother’s eyes flashed. She’d seen that look right before Demeter thrashed one of her nymphs for letting her wander out of sight.

Persephone shouldn’t have gotten angry, but she couldn’t help it. She hated that name. It was her childhood nickname, and it meant exactly that—

“Sorry, Mother,” she managed, but she didn’t look at the goddess when she spoke. Not because she was embarrassed, but because she really didn’t mean the apology.

“Oh, my flower. I don’t blame you.” Demeter placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “It’s this mortal world. It’s creating a divide between us.”

“Mother, you’re being ridiculous,” Persephone sighed, placing her hands on either side of Demeter’s face, and when she spoke again, she meant every word. “You are all I have.”

Demeter smiled, holding her daughter’s wrists. Hades’ mark burned. She leaned in a little, as if to kiss Persephone’s cheek. Instead, she said, “Remember that.”

Then she was gone.

Persephone released her breath and her body withered. Even when she had nothing to hide, dealing with her mother was exhausting. She was constantly on edge, preparing for what she would find unacceptable next. Over time, Persephone thought she had hardened herself against her mother’s unwanted words, but sometimes they pierced her.

She distracted herself by focusing on choosing her outfit for the day, a pretty, light pink dress with ruffled sleeves, a pair of white wedge shoe, and a white handbag. On the way out, she stopped to check her reflection in the mirror, pulling glamour from her hair and face, returning her curls and freckles. She smiled, recognizing herself once again.

She left the apartment, feeling happier as she stepped into the morning sun. Persephone didn’t have a car and she didn’t have the ability to teleport like other gods, so she either walked or took the bus when she needed to get around New Athens. Today, since it was warm, she decided to walk.

Persephone loved the city because it was so unlike what she’d grown up with. Here, there were mirrored skyscrapers that sparkled under Helios’ warm rays. There were museums filled with histories Persephone had only learned when she moved here, buildings that looked like art, and sculptures and fountains on almost every block. Even with all the stone and glass and metal, there were acres of parks with lush gardens and trees where Persephone had spent many evenings walking. The fresh air reminded her she was free.

She inhaled now, trying to ease her anxiety. Instead, it traveled to her stomach where it knotted, made worse by the inked bracelet around her wrist. She had to get rid of it before Demeter saw it and her few years of freedom turned into a lifetime in a glass box.

It was usually that fear that kept Persephone cautious.

Except for last night—last night, she’d felt rebellious, and despite this strange mark on her skin she’d found Nevernight and its king to be everything she had ever desired.

She wished that weren’t so—she wished she’d found Hades repulsive. She wished she hadn’t spent last night recalling how his dark eyes had trailed her body, how she’d had to tip her head back just to meet his gaze, how his graceful hands had shuffled the cards.

How would those long fingers feel against her skin? How would it feel to be swept into his strong arms and carried away?

After last night, she wanted things she had never wanted before. Soon, her anxiety was replaced with a fire so unfamiliar and intense, she thought she might turn to ash.

It was one thing to find the God of the Dead attractive, and another thing to…

She neared the Acropolis, its dazzling, mirror surface almost blinding her, and made her way up the short flight of steps to the gold and glass doors. The lower level of the floor had a row of turnstiles and security guards—necessary for the businesses located in the high rise, with Zeus’s advertising company, Oak & Eagle Creative, among them. Zeus’s admirers were known to wait in crowds outside the Acropolis just for a glimpse of the God of Thunder. Once, a mob had tried to storm the building to reach him, which was sort of ironic considering Zeus was rarely at the Acropolis and spent most of his time in Olympia.

Zeus’s business wasn’t the only one in need of security, though.

After security, she found a bank of elevators that took her up to her floor. The doors opened into to a large reception area with the words “Persephone,” she said, coming around the desk. “It’s good to see you again. Let me take you back. Demetri is expecting you.”

Valerie directed Persephone to the newsroom beyond the glass partition. There, several metal and glass desks were arranged in perfect lines across the floor. There was a flurry of activity—phones ringing, paper shuffling, keys tapping as writers and editors pounded out their next article. The smell of coffee was strong, like the whole place ran on caffeine and ink. Persephone’s heart thudded in her chest with the thrill of it all.

“I saw you were from New Athens University,” Valerie said. “When do you graduate?”

“In six months.”

Persephone dreamed of the moment she’d walk across that grand stage to receive her degree. It would be the pinnacle of her time among mortals.

“You must be so excited.”

“I am.” Persephone glanced at Valerie. “What about you? When do you graduate?”

“In a couple years,” Valerie said.

“And how long have you been here?”

“About a year,” she said with a smile.

“Do you plan to stay when you graduate?”

“In the building, yes, just a few floors up at Oak & Eagle Creative,” she grinned.

Ah, Zeus’s marketing company had sourced her.

Valerie knocked on the open door of an office at the very back of the room. “Demetri, Persephone’s here.”

“Thanks, Valerie,” Demetri said.

The girl turned to Persephone, smiled, and left, allowing room for her to enter the office and catch her first glimpse of her new boss, Demetri Aetos. He was older, but it was clear he had been a heartbreaker in his prime. His hair was short on the sides, longer on top, and flecked with grey. He wore black-framed glasses, which gave him a scholarly air. He had what Persephone would consider delicate features—thin lips and a smaller nose. He was tall, but thin beneath his blue button-up, khaki slacks, and polka dot bowtie.

“Persephone,” he said, coming around his desk and stretching out his hand. “It’s good to see you again. We are happy to have you.”

“I’m happy to be here, Mr. Aetos,” she took his hand.

“Call me Demetri.”

“Okay…Demetri.” She couldn’t help smiling.

“Please, sit!” He indicated to a chair, and she took a seat. Demetri leaned against his desk, hands in his pockets. “Tell me about yourself.”

When Persephone had first moved to New Athens, she hated this question, because there was a point when all she could talk about was her fears—closed spaces, feeling trapped, escalators. Over time, though, she’d had enough experiences, and it had become easier to define herself by what she liked. “Well, I’m a student at New Athens University. I’m majoring in journalism and I’ll graduate in May…” she started, and Demetri waved his hand.

“Not what’s on your resume.”

He met her gaze, and she noticed that he had blue eyes.

He smiled. “What about you—your hobbies, interests…?”

“Oh.” She blushed and thought for a moment. “I like baking. It helps me relax.”

“Oh? Tell me more. What do you like to bake?”

“Anything, really. I’ve been challenging myself at sugar cookie art.”

His brows rose and his smile stayed. “Sugar cookie art, huh? That’s a thing?”

“Yes, I’ll show you.”

She pulled out her phone and found a few photos. Of course, she had only taken pictures of her best cookies.

Demetri took the phone and swiped through the photos. “Oh, nice. These are great, Persephone.”

He met her gaze as he returned her phone.

“Thank you.” Persephone hated the cheesy smile those words brought to her face, but no one but Lexa had ever told her that.

“So, you like to bake. What else?”

“I like to write,” she said. “Stories.”

“Stories? Like fiction?”

“Yes.”

“Romance?” he guessed.

It was what most people assumed, and the blush on Persephone’s cheeks wasn’t helping her case. “No, actually. I like mysteries.”

Demetri’s brows rose again, almost meeting his hairline. “Unexpected,” he said. “I like it. What do you hope to gain from this internship?”

“Adventure.” She couldn’t help it. The word slipped out, but Demetri seemed pleased.

“Adventure.” He pushed away from his desk. “If adventure is what you desire, Persephone only had an interest in getting coffee for herself, but she didn’t bother telling them that. She didn’t think she could be any more excited, but as Demetri spoke, she had the overwhelming feeling that this internship would change her life.

“I’m sure you know that we find ourselves in the media a lot,” he smiled wryly. “Ironic, considering we are a news source.”

“I couldn’t believe when Apollo accused you of being members of Triad,” Persephone said.

Triad was a group of Impious mortals who actively organized against the gods, supporting fairness, freewill, and freedom. Zeus had declared them as terrorist organization and threatened death to any caught with their propaganda.

“Oh yeah,” Adonis raised his brows and rubbing the back of his neck. “Completely ludicrous, of course, but that didn’t keep people from believing it.”

Probably the worst thing to come from it was that, as a result of Zeus’ condemnation, the Faithful organized into cults and started a manhunt of their own, killing several who were openly Impious, uncaring if they were associated with Triad or not. It was a horrific time, and it had taken Zeus longer than necessary to come out against the cults.

“We seek truth, Persephone,” Demetri said. “There’s power in truth. Do you want power?”

He didn’t even know what he was asking.

“Yes,” she said. “I want power.”

This time when Demetri smiled, he showed his teeth. “Then you will do well here.”

Demetri showed Persephone to her desk, which sat just outside his office. She settled in, checking drawers, noting what supplies she would need to ask for or buy, and stored her purse. A new laptop sat on top of the glass desk. It was cool to the touch, and when she opened it, the dark screen reflected the face of a man behind her. She turned in her chair and met a set of wide, surprised eyes.

“Adonis,” she said.

“Persephone.” He looked just as handsome as he had last night, only more professional with his lavender button-up and coffee cup clutched in one hand. “I had no idea you were our new intern.”

“I had no idea you worked here,” she said.

“I’m a senior reporter, mostly focused on entertainment,” he said, rather smugly. “We missed you when you left last night.”

“Oh, yes, sorry. I wanted to prepare for my first day.”

“Not going to fault you for that. Well, welcome.”

“Adonis,” Demetri called as he stepped back into the doorframe of his office. “Mind giving Persephone here a tour of our floor?”

“Not at all.” He smiled at her. “Ready?”

Persephone followed Adonis, eager to witness the fast-paced environment of her new office. She was happy to see a familiar face, even if she had just met him last night. It made her feel more comfortable here.

“We call this the workroom. It’s where everyone follows leads and investigates,” he said.

People looked up from their desks and waved or smiled at her as they passed. Adonis indicated a wall of glassed-in rooms.

“Interview and conference rooms. Break room. Lounge.” He pointed to a huge room with various casual sitting areas and warm, low light. It was cozy, and there were already several people nesting. “You’ll probably prefer to write in here when you get the chance.”

Adonis showed her to the supplies closet, and she raided it for pens, sticky notes, and notebooks. While he helped her carry her supplies back to her desk he asked, “So, what kind of journalism are you interested in?”

“I’m leaning toward investigative reporting,” she said.

“Oh, a detective, huh?”

“I like research.”

“Any subject in particular?” he asked.

Hades.

The god’s name popped into her head without warning, and she knew it was because of the mark on her wrist. She was anxious to get to Nevernight and figure out what it was.

“No, I just…like to solve mysteries,” she answered.

“Well then, maybe you can help us figure out who’s been stealing lunches from the fridge in the break room.”

Persephone laughed.

She got the feeling she was going to like it here.