Chapter XIX: Hades

CHAPTER XIX

HADES

Hades woke because Persephone jerked beside him.

“Persephone?” he asked, twisting toward her as he sat up.

She writhed, her fingers fisted into the sheets, her back arching.

“Persephone,” he said, placing his hand on her belly in an attempt to ease her back onto the bed, but she wrenched away, a low moan on her lips.

He shook her.

“Persephone, wake up.”

He didn’t know what else to do to draw her from this nightmare, but it seemed to have its claws buried deep, because she would not rouse.

Fuck.

He shifted onto his knees and tried to hold her still.

“Persephone!”

This time, her eyes opened, but she still did not seem to be awake. She thrashed, and he could barely hold her still, his knees shifting close to her body as he straddled her.

“Persephone, it’s me! Shh!”

It was when her nails dug into his skin that he knew this was a losing battle, but he did not know how else to wake her, and he would be damned if he left her to face the horror of this nightmare. But as he tried to settle back, her knee came up and hit him square in the face.

Hades fell, catching himself before he landed on his back as Persephone pushed herself away, hitting the headboard as if he’d cornered her.

“Persephone.” He started toward her, but she screamed, and all of a sudden, a horrifying tearing sound followed as vines and thorns burst from her skin. He could smell the blood as it mixed with her magic, which he usually found overwhelmingly sweet but now just tasted sour.

He was going to vomit.

“Persephone.”

This time when he said her name, it was painful.

He summoned a fire to the hearth, and in that horrible light, he could see the mess she’d made of herself.

His stomach twisted, but it was made worse by her wide-eyed and horrified expression.

She was fully awake now, fully aware of what she’d done, and she broke, sobs racking her body.

“Look at me,” Hades ordered. He had not meant to snap at her, and he hated that she had flinched at the sound of his voice, but he was almost hysterical, and it was all he could do to stay calm.

He reached for the thorns protruding from her skin, and as he touched each one, they vanished in a cloud of dark dust. Once they were gone, he focused on healing her gaping wounds, a slow and agonizing process. His body was on fire and his ears rang so loud, he could not hear a thing. He wasn’t even sure if Persephone was still crying. The only thing he could do to keep from breaking down himself was grind his teeth until his jaw ached, until the burn in the back of his throat and eyes ceased.

Except it didn’t, and even when he was finished, he felt like all he could see was the trauma to her skin. Maybe it was because she was covered in her own blood.

“I will take you to the baths,” he said instantly, and then he stood, rubbing his palms on his thighs, thinking at first he would dry them but remembered he was naked and his skin was just as damp. He summoned his robes, hoping it would make him less slippery. “Can I…hold you?”

He felt like he had to ask. He should have been more discerning before and not touched her while she slept. Was he the reason this time was so bad?

Persephone nodded, and as he went to gather her into his arms, he felt like he didn’t know how to hold her anymore. Which way would hurt her less, scar her less? But taking her to the baths was better than letting her sit here in a pool of her own blood.

He carried her down the hall and took her to one of the smaller pools where he set her on her feet. He thought she would hurry into the pool, but she did nothing. She just stood there, staring at him. He wanted the blood off her body.

“Can I undress you?”

She nodded numbly, and it made him hesitate to touch her, but he did, helping her out of her nightgown. He pulled his robes off next.

There was nothing sexual about this. His desire was solely to know that she was well.

Carefully, he brushed a strand of her golden hair over her shoulder, and she closed her eyes as she shivered deep.

He dropped his hand.

“Do you know the difference between my touch and his?”

“When I am awake,” she whispered.

So he had made it worse. He felt like his throat might close up, his breath freezing in his lungs.

“Can I touch you now?”

“You don’t have to ask,” she said.

“I wish to,” he said and took her into his arms again. “In case you aren’t ready.”

This time, it felt a little easier.

He ascended the steps into the pool, and as she moved through the warm water, the blood slowly washed away. She didn’t push away from him, so he didn’t let her go.

“I don’t understand why I dream about him,” she said after some time. “Sometimes I think back to that day and remember how afraid I was, and other times I think I should not be so affected. Others—”

“You cannot compare trauma, Persephone,” he said, interrupting her, knowing what she would say next—others have had it worse. There was no man in the world who would claim such a thing; only women were taught their pain was never enough.

“I just feel like I should have known. I should have never—”

“Persephone.”

He couldn’t hear her say what she should have known or done. She should have never been put in that situation to begin with. She was the prey and Pirithous the predator.

“How could you have known?” he asked. “Pirithous presented himself as a friend. He played on your kindness and compassion. The only person who was wrong here was Pirithous.”

She wouldn’t look at him as he spoke, but he knew she had started to cry. It was slow at first, a few tears she tried to brush away, and when she couldn’t stop them, she buried her face in her hands.

He didn’t know what else to do except hold her. The only time she pulled away was when she managed to collect herself and she scrubbed her face in the pool before they left and returned to their room.

Hades poured them both a glass of whiskey.

“Drink,” he said as he handed it to her, and he watched her sip it before downing his own. “Do you wish to sleep?”

He asked because he didn’t, and he wouldn’t blame her if she never wished to return to their bed again. Right now, he wasn’t certain he could.

She glanced at the bed. He had burned away the blood with his magic so that no trace of it remained, though he knew that would not erase the memory. At least that was true for him.

“Come sit with me.”

Hades sat by the fire, barely touching her as he guided her into his lap, but once she was settled and she rested against him, he held her tighter.

Her body grew heavier against him and her breath evened, and it was not long before she was asleep. For a long while, he did not move, afraid to disturb her, but then he feared that if she began to dream again, he would only make it worse by holding her.

There was another issue at play, and it was that the longer he relived what had happened tonight, the more violent he felt.

He didn’t like to feel this way, especially while he held Persephone so close. He rose to his feet and carried her to bed, laying her down on his side before covering her with the blankets. As he straightened, he summoned Hecate in a whisper.

She appeared, pale in the night.

“What is it?” she asked, worry coloring her tone.

“I need you to stay with Persephone,” he said. “Only for a little while.”

He told her of the nightmare and her magic, the way fear had made her nearly explode. As he spoke, bile rose in the back of his throat.

“I just…need someone to be here in case she has to face him again.”

“Of course,” Hecate said. “But where are you going?”

He studied the goddess’s face. “Do I really need to say?”

“I suppose not.”

Hades left then and arrived at the edge of the Forest of Despair. Opposite him, a weak and dazed Pirithous appeared. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he collapsed.

“Get up,” Hades ordered.

The demigod looked up, meeting Hades’s gaze, and a guttural cry burst from his mouth.

“No, please,” he begged. “Please, my lord.”

“Get up,” Hades said again. The command was low but it vibrated the very air, a warning that brought Pirithous to his shaky feet, though he continued to plead as he sobbed.

“Please,” he said, and it turned into a whisper as he said it over and over again. “Please, please, please.”

“Did Persephone beg for you to stop too?” Hades asked.

“She would forgive me!” Pirithous insisted through clenched teeth, and the words cut through Hades like a blade.

There were a number of things he wanted to say, but he settled on one as he dropped his glamour, the magic curling away from his body in the form of sharp shadows with only one purpose—to hunt.

“Run,” Hades ordered.

“Please, no,” Pirithous said as he stumbled back and fell, quickly scrambling to his feet.

Hades ground his teeth.

That fucking word.

His hands curled into fists, and as he did, clawed hands burst from the ground, tipped with sharp nails. They grasped Pirithous’s ankles, and he fell into more rotting hands. He struggled against their deep hold and managed to free himself, though they had gouged parts of his flesh.

Still, he ran farther into the forest, and Hades trailed behind.

He would be witness to this—to Pirithous’s greatest fears, his living nightmare.

“Did she say that word?” Hades asked aloud, and though Pirithous struggled a distance ahead, Hades knew his voice echoed through the forest.

The demigod hesitated at the edge of a lake that seemed endless in every direction he turned. It was a reservoir, fed by the rivers Phlegethon and Cocytus, but he did not know that, and taking a step in, he found that the water was thick and it burned. He howled, unable to pull himself free.

Then suddenly, Pirithous was jerked from the edge of the shore and hauled into its center where the water churned violently, burning every inch of his skin. He screamed in one continuous wail until he disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

Hades let him suffer there for a while, then parted the tarlike water until there was a clear path from one side to the other. At the center of it lay Pirithous, body scorched and barely breathing.

With a jerk of his hand, Hades drew the black water from his lungs. The demigod gasped and rolled onto his back, breath coming in wheezing rasps.

“Did you let her go when she begged?” Hades asked as he approached.

Pirithous struggled to rise and managed only to get to his hands and knees, yet he crawled, and when he could move no longer, he collapsed.

Despite his burned flesh, the whites of Pirithous’s eyes were still visible, his words a low grind that sounded as if it came from his chest.

At least he could no longer say please.

“Was it worth it?” Hades asked, and when the demigod closed his eyes, Hades’s rage tore through him, and he let it overtake him.

He beat Pirithous until his bones were jelly beneath his fists, until he had no stiffness to his body, until each impact felt like punching nothing but the thickened water in the Forest of Despair, and he only stopped because Hecate halted his hand.

“That’s enough, Hades,” she said.

Their arms shook as they resisted one another, but once Hades met her gaze, he relented and then took a step back, though Hecate did not move, like she didn’t trust him not to begin again. But he was drained and there was no fury left to fuel him.

He could feel her eyes on him as he stared at the remains of Pirithous, a broken soul.

“He’s never coming back, Hades,” she said, and he knew that was true. “And you are needed elsewhere.”

He finally met her gaze. “Persephone?”

She shook her head. “Ilias and Zofie came. They have located the woman who attacked Persephone.”

---

Hades returned to Persephone, who woke as he arrived. When she saw him, she froze.

His body still hummed with the violence he’d executed on Pirithous, and he hated that she could feel it.

“You went to Tartarus,” she said.

He didn’t respond, and she rose to her feet, taking his face into her hands.

“Are you well?” she asked, and he leaned into her touch, holding her bright gaze like it was a beacon for his soul.

“No,” he admitted, and they held each other tight, unwilling to let go. “Ilias and Zofie found the woman who assaulted you,” he finally said when he felt more like himself.

“Zofie?” Persephone sounded confused.

“She has been helping Ilias.”

“Where is the woman?” she asked.

“She is being held at Iniquity.”

“Will you take me to her?”

“I’d rather you sleep,” he said.

“I do not want to sleep.”

“Even if I stay?”

“There are people out there attacking goddesses,” Persephone said. “I’d rather hear what she has to say.”

He frowned, his fingers twined in her hair, uncertain if this was too much, too soon. They could wait, confront the woman tomorrow.

“I’m okay, Hades,” she assured. “You will be with me.”

He only hoped he could be what she needed. It was clear to him that he hadn’t been prior to this.

Finally, he relented. “Then we will do as you wish.”

---

Ilias and Zofie had taken the woman to Iniquity, where she sat beneath a stream of yellow light, held in place by venomous snakes. Despite the hatred she exuded, she remained still as stone, too fearful of a venomous bite and imminent death.

Hades wondered then why she’d felt emboldened to attack his lover.

As much as he wanted to take over this encounter, he understood it was not his to control, so he let Persephone lead, and she did so without fear, stepping close until she edged the light.

“I do not need to tell you why you are here,” Persephone said.

“Will you kill me?” the woman asked.

“I am not the Goddess of Retribution,” Persephone said.

“You did not answer my question.”

“I am not the one being questioned.”

The woman’s mouth tightened.

“What’s your name?” Persephone asked.

The woman lifted her chin and replied, “Lara.”

“Lara, why did you attack me in the Coffee House?”

“Because you were there and I wanted you to hurt.”

Hades’s fists clenched. He wanted to hurt her.

“Why?”

The why did not matter; it was the fact that she had.

The snakes reacted to Hades’s own anger, hissing violently as they lifted their heads and bared their fangs. Lara closed her eyes and prepared for the bite.

“Not yet,” Persephone said, and the snakes stilled. When the woman opened her eyes and met her gaze, Persephone spoke. “I asked you a question.”

There was a moment of silence, and then the woman broke. “Because you represent everything that is wrong with this world,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “You think you stand for justice because you wrote some angry words in a newspaper, but they mean nothing! Your actions are by far more telling—you, like so many, have merely fallen into the same trap. You are a sheep, corralled by Olympian glamour.”

This woman had been hurt by a god. Hades knew it and Persephone knew it.

“What happened to you?” Persephone asked.

“I was raped,” she seethed quietly. “By Zeus.”

Hades wished he could say he was shocked by her answer, but the fact that he wasn’t made him feel disgusted with himself. His brothers had existed in this role for some time, using their power to coerce and force women to do their bidding. And while they had faced some consequences, they were nothing compared to what they deserved, which was imprisonment and torture in Tartarus.

Hades had sworn he would see that through, but victory was a long and tedious road with victims of its own.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” Persephone said and took a step forward.

Hades sent the snakes away.

“Don’t,” Lara hissed. “I do not want your pity.”

“I am not offering pity,” Persephone said. “But I would like to help you.”

“How can you help me?”

Hades wasn’t sure they could even if they wanted to. Her hate was rooted deep, and no one could blame her.

“I know you did not do anything to deserve what happened to you,” Persephone started, but Lara was already shaking her head.

“Your words mean nothing while gods are still able to hurt.”

“How would you have Zeus punished?” Hades asked.

Persephone and Lara looked at him, surprised, but Hades waited for her answer.

“I would have him torn apart limb by limb and his body burned,” Lara said, her voice shaking with menace. “I would have his soul fracture into millions of pieces until nothing was left but the whisper of his screams echoing in the wind.”

“And you think you can bring that justice?” he asked.

She had to know she was not capable of such retribution, so she had to have someone else in mind.

“Not me. Gods,” she said. “New ones. It will be a rebirth.”

New gods. Rebirth.

Those were words used by Harmonia’s attackers too.

“No,” Hades said. “It will be a massacre—and it will not be us who dies. It will be you.”

“What happened to you was horrible,” Persephone said, her hand threading through his. “And you are right that Zeus should be punished. Will you not let us help you?”

“There is no hope for me.”

“There is always hope,” Persephone said. “It is all we have.”

Hades looked down at Persephone. “Ilias, take Miss Sotir to Hemlock Grove. She will be safe there.”

The woman stiffened. “So you will imprison me?”

“No,” he said. “Hemlock Grove is a safe house. The goddess Hecate runs the facility for abused women and children. She will want to hear your story if you wish to tell her. Beyond that, you may do as you please.”

Hades squeezed Persephone’s hand as he took her back to the Underworld.