A Touch of Darkness: Chapter 8

Lexa sat across from Persephone outside The Yellow Daffodil. They’d walked to the bistro from their apartment to have breakfast before they went their separate ways—Persephone to the Library of Artemis and Lexa to Talaria Stadium to meet Adonis and his friends for a day of Trials.

“Your lips are bruised,” Lexa observed.

Persephone covered her mouth with her fingers. She’d tried to cover the discoloration with foundation and lipstick.

“Who did you kiss?”

“Why do you think I kissed someone?” Persephone asked.

“I don’t know that Persephone flushed—someone had kissed her, but not for the reasons Lexa was thinking.

She wouldn’t let herself romanticize the God of the Dead.

“I’m just guessing since you left the apartment at ten last night and didn’t come home until like five this morning.”

“H…how did you know that?”

Lexa smiled, but Persephone could tell her friend was a little hurt by her sneakiness. “I guess we both have secrets. I was up talking to Adonis, I heard you come in.”

What she’d heard was Persephone tiptoeing into the kitchen for water after Hades had teleported to her bedroom, but she didn’t correct her. Instead, she focused on the part of Lexa’s reply that was news to her.

“Oh. You and Adonis are talking?”

It was Lexa’s turn to blush, and Persephone was glad she could redirect this conversation even if she wasn’t sure how to feel about her best friend dating her co-worker. Plus, she had yet to figure out why Hades disliked him. Was it simply that she had brought him to Nevernight, or something more?

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Lexa said.

Persephone knew she was just trying to keep her expectations low. It had been a long time since she had been interested in someone. She’d fallen hard and fast for her first college boyfriend, a wrestler named Alec, a man who was incredibly handsome and charming…until he wasn’t. What Lexa had at first thought was protectiveness soon became controlling. Things escalated until one night he’d yelled at her for going out with Persephone and accused her of cheating on him. At that point, she’d decided things had to end.

It was only after things ended that Lexa learned Alec hadn’t been faithful to her at all. The whole thing had broken her heart, and there was a time when Persephone wasn’t sure Lexa would ever recover.

“We were making plans for today and just…kept talking,” Lexa continued. “He’s so interesting.”

“He’s interesting?” Persephone laughed. “You’re interesting. Fashionista. Witch. Tattoos. What more could a guy want?”

Lexa rolled her eyes and promptly ignored her compliment.

“Did you know he was adopted? It’s why he became a journalist. He wants to find his biological parents.”

Persephone shook her head. She didn’t know anything about Adonis except that he worked at “I can’t imagine what that’s like,” Lexa said absently. “To exist in the world without really knowing who you are.”

She couldn’t know how painful her words were. The bargain Hades had forced upon her had reminded Persephone just how much she didn’t belong.

Once Lexa left for the Trials, Persephone took a coffee to go and headed to the Library of Artemis and the sanctuary of its beautiful reading rooms named after the Nine Greek Muses. Persephone liked all of them, but she had always been drawn to the Melpomene Room, which she entered now. She wasn’t sure why it was named after the Muse of Tragedy, except that a statue of the goddess stood at the center of the oval room. Light streamed through a glass ceiling, pouring over several long tables and study areas.

She’d come here in search of a book, and while she looked, she trailed her fingers over leather binding and gold lettering. Finally, she found what she was looking for:

She carried the volume to one of the tables and sat down to open it, turning the pages until she found his name in bold letters across the top of one.

Hades, God of the Underworld.

Just seeing his name made her heart race. The entry included a sketch of the god’s profile, which Persephone traced with the tips of her fingers. No one would recognize him in person from this picture because it was too dark, but she could see familiar features—the arch of his nose, the set of his jaw, the strands of his long hair falling to his shoulders.

Her eyes dropped to the information written on the rest of the page, which detailed how Hades became the God of the Underworld. After the defeat of the Titans, he and his two younger brothers drew lots—Hades was given the Underworld, Poseidon the Sea, and Zeus the Skies, each with equal access over the Earth.

She often forgot that the three gods had equal power over the Earth, mostly because Hades and Poseidon didn’t often venture outside their own realms. Zeus’s descent to the mortal world had been a reminder, and Hades and Poseidon were not going to stand by while their brother took control of a realm they all had access to. Still, Persephone hadn’t considered what that meant for Hades’ powers. Did he share some of her mother’s abilities to call forth storms and famine?

She continued reading until she came to the list of Hades’ powers; her eyes widened as she read it, and she couldn’t tell if she was more afraid or awed by him.

Hades has many powers, but his primary and most powerful abilities are necromancy, including reincarnation, resurrection, transmigration, death sense, and soul removal. Because of his ownership of the earthly realm, he can also manipulate earth and its elements and has the ability to draw precious metals and jewels from the ground.

Rich One, indeed.

Additional powers include charm—the ability to sway mortals and lesser gods to his will, as well as invisibility.

Invisibility?

That made Persephone very nervous. She was going to have to withdraw a promise from the god that he would never use that power with her.

She turned the page and found information on Hades’ symbols and the Underworld.

The narcissus are sacred to the Lord of the Dead. The flower, often in colors of white, yellow, or orange have a short, cup-shaped corona and grow in abundance in the Underworld. They are a symbol of rebirth. It is said Hades chose the flower to give the souls hope of what is to come when they are reincarnated.

Persephone sat back in her chair. This god did not seem like the one she’d met a few days ago. That god dangled hope before mortals in the form of riches. That god made a game out of pain. The one described in this passage sounded compassionate and kind. She wondered what had happened in the time since Hades had chosen his symbol.

Persephone decided she had more questions for Hades.

When she was finished reading the passage on the Underworld, Persephone made a list of the flowers mentioned in the text—asphodels, aconite, polyanthus, narcissus—and then found a book on plant varieties which she used to take careful notes, making sure to include how to care for each flower and tree.

She grimaced when the instructions called for direct sunlight. Would Hades’ muted sky be enough? If she were her mother, the light wouldn’t matter. She could make a rose grow in a snowstorm.

Then again, if she were her mother, a garden would already be growing in the Underworld.

When Persephone finished, she took her list to a flower shop and asked for seeds. When the clerk—an older man with wild, wispy hair and a long, white beard—came to the narcissus, he looked up at her and said, “We do not carry “Why not?” she asked, more curious than anything.

“My dear, few invoke the name of the King of the Dead, and when they do, they turn their heads.”

“It sounds like you have no wish to exist happily in the Underworld,” she said.

The shopkeeper paled, and Persephone left with a few extra flowers, a pair of gloves, a watering can and a small shovel. She hoped the gloves would keep her touch from killing the seeds before she got them in the ground.

After she left the shop, she traveled straight to Nevernight for the third day in a row. It was early enough that no one was waiting outside to get into the club. As she approached, the doors opened, and once she was inside she took a deep breath and snapped her fingers like Hades had showed her. The world shifted around her, and she found herself in the Underworld, in the same spot where Hades had kissed her.

Her head spun for a few moments. She had never teleported on her own, always using borrowed magic. This time it was Hades’ magic that clung to her skin, unfamiliar but not unpleasant, lingering on her tongue, smooth and rich like his kiss. She flushed at the memory and quickly turned her attention to the barren land at her feet.

She decided she would start near the wall and plant the aconite first, the tallest flower which would bloom purple. Then she moved onto the asphodel, which would bloom white. The polyanthi were next, and would grow in clusters of red.

Once she had a plan, she lowered to her knees and started to dig. She settled the first seed into the ground and covered it with thin soil.

One down.

Several more to go.

Persephone worked until her arms and knees hurt. Perspiration beaded across her forehead, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. When she finished, she sat back on her heels and surveyed her work. She couldn’t quite describe how she felt, staring at the grayish plot, except that something dark and uneasy edged its way into her thoughts.

What if she couldn’t do this? What if she failed to meet the terms of this contract? Would she really be stuck here in the Underworld forever? Would her mother, a powerful goddess in her own right, fight for her freedom when she discovered what Persephone had done?

She pushed those thoughts aside.

She picked up the watering can and looked around for a place to fill it.

Her gaze fell on the garden wall. It might give her enough height to locate a fountain or a river.

She stepped carefully so as not to disturb her freshly-planted seeds, and managed to scale the wall. Like everything else Hades owned, it was obsidian and almost resembled a vicious volcanic eruption. She navigated the rough edges carefully, only falling once, but caught herself, cutting her palm. She hissed at the stab of pain, closing her fingers on sticky blood, and finally made it to the top of the wall.

“Oh.”

Persephone had glimpsed the Underworld yesterday, and yet it still managed to surprise her. Beyond the wall was a field of tall green grass stretching on for what seemed like miles before ending in a forest of cypress trees. Cutting through the lengthy grass was a wide and rushing river. From this distance, she couldn’t quite make out the color of the water, but she knew it wasn’t black like the river Styx. There were several rivers in the Underworld, but she was too unfamiliar with its geography to even guess which one might be in the field beyond.

Still, it didn’t really matter—water was water.

Persephone climbed down from the wall and started across the field, watering can in hand. The tall grass scraped across her bare arms and legs. Mingled with the grass were strange orange flowers she had never seen before. Now and then a breeze stirred the air. It smelled like fire, and while it wasn’t unpleasant, it was a reminder that, though she was surrounded by beauty, she was still in the Underworld.

As she waded through the grass, she came upon a bright red ball.

She screamed and stumbled backward, ball in hand. One—no, three powerful-looking black Dobermans stood before her, sleek coats shining, cropped ears twitching. Then she noticed their gazes were focused on the red ball she held in her hand. Their growls turned into whines the longer she held it.

“Oh,” she glanced down at the ball. “You want to play fetch?”

The three dogs sat tall, tongues lolling out of their mouths. Persephone threw the ball and all three bolted; she laughed as she watched them fall over each other, racing to claim it. It wasn’t long before they returned, the ball in the jowls of the one in the center. The dog dropped it at her feet and then the three sat back obediently, waiting for her to throw it again. She wondered who had trained them.

She tossed the ball again and continued until she reached the river. Unlike the Styx, the water here was clear and ran over rocks that looked like moonstones. It was beautiful, but just as she moved to draw water, a hand clamped down on her shoulder and drew her back. “No!”

Persephone fell and looked up into the face of a goddess.

“Do not draw water from the Lethe,” she added. Despite the command, her voice was warm. The goddess had long black hair, half of it was pulled back, and the rest fell over her shoulders, past her waist. She dressed in ancient clothing—a crimson peplos and a black cloak. A set of short, black horns protruded from her temples, and she wore a gold crown. She had beautiful but stern features—arched brows accentuating almond-shaped eyes set in a square face.

Behind her, the three Dobermans sat, tails wagging.

“You’re a goddess,” Persephone said, getting to her feet and the woman smiled.

“Hecate,” she bowed her head.

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?

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…

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…

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.”