Chapter XXI

Chapter XXI

Divine Retribution

Night had come, and Hades was in search of Dionysus. He’d first gone to Bakkheia, only to be stopped at the doors and informed that the God of the Vine was not there. When Hades had asked where the god might be, he received no answer.

There were few places he might be, or at least to Hades’s knowledge, but one of them included the Theater of Dionysus, which had been erected to honor and worship him. It was there Hades ventured, to the horseshoe-shaped theater that was located downtown near the Acropolis where Persephone worked.

On this night, a comedy called Lysistrata was being performed. The play’s title character decides to end the Peloponnesian War by encouraging her fellow Athenian women to abstain from sex with their husbands, a tactic that eventually succeeds. Onstage, the actors and chorus wore grotesque masks with an array of expressions, and despite some that were to appear serene and content, they were all somehow horrifying with wide, gaping mouths and hollow eyes. Some wore wreaths on their heads wrapped with ivy and berries. Peals of laughter broke out during song and dance and spoken word, though Hades did not hear the performance, his gaze focused on the crowd.

He found Dionysus sitting at the very front of the orchestra. The seats to his left and right were empty, likely a request he’d made so that he could sit alone.

Hades approached and took a seat beside him. Dionysus kept his gaze on the performance as he spoke. “Have you come to tell me the Graeae are dead?”

“I assumed you would know by now,” Hades said. “Seems I was right.”

Dionysus did not offer any information on how he had found out, but Hades guessed that one of his maenads had spied Ilias handling the situation and communicated their discoveries.

There was silence between them, though all around, the performance continued and the crowd reacted, laughing and cheering.

“I don’t understand,” Dionysus said at last.

“Don’t you?” Hades countered.

It was the first time the God of the Vine looked at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“The Graeae were just as much a weapon as the secrets they kept,” Hades said. “It’s clear whoever killed them preferred to sacrifice their use rather than allow the power to fall into our hands.”

“You keep saying ‘our,’” Dionysus pointed out. “We are not on the same side.”

“Then what side are you on?”

Hades never thought he’d feel any kind of way about Dionysus’s allies until now, and he had to admit, he hoped that he’d align with him.

Though, he did not know what it meant to take sides yet. All he knew was that someone—potentially Hera and Theseus—was learning to kill the divine. The divide was complicated. Aligning against them seemed to mean siding with Zeus, which was not something Hades particularly wanted.

“I am on my own side,” Dionysus said.

As much as Hades respected that, this was not a situation where being neutral would work.

“You realize the death of the Graeae means more than the loss of Medusa,” Hades said. “It means that someone has found a way to kill us.”

“Then it sounds like I need to be on their side,” Dionysus said.

Hades’s lips flattened. “Is that your plan?” he asked, then tilted his head. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be the first to kneel.”

Dionysus’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t about submission, Hades. It’s about lying low until the opportune moment.”

“And what moment is that, Dionysus? When everyone stronger than you is dead?”

“You’re not very strong if you’re dead.”

They were quiet for a few moments before Hades said, “I’ve never really liked you.”

“Nor I you.”

“But I respected you because I thought you were a protector.” Hades thought about all the women he’d pulled out of harmful situations, how he had trained them to protect themselves. He had helped them take back their power, yet here he would let the Graeae’s deaths go unavenged. He would hide. He was a coward. “Turns out, you are…but only of your own interests.”

He noted how Dionysus swallowed at his comment, and Hades rose to his feet.

“I am not saying choose a side,” Hades said at last. “I’m telling you to choose allies. This is not a war that will see any of us unpunished.”

With that, he left the theater.

* * *

It was late when he returned to the Underworld and found his bed empty.

He had not expected to find Persephone there, but it reminded him of how they parted and made his chest feel like an open chasm. Despite this, he tried to sleep, but all he saw when he closed his eyes was her on the floor before him, sobbing and bleeding.

I don’t know how to lose someone, Hades, she’d said, and as much as he knew what that was like, he realized he didn’t know how to lose her, but that was exactly what was happening. The ironic part was that all he’d been doing this whole time was fighting to keep her—or at least the possibility of their future together.

He must have fallen asleep eventually, because he woke later with a pounding headache. His mouth felt dry and his tongue swollen. He stumbled out of bed and poured himself a drink, but before he could take a sip, a strange feeling straightened his spine, and an unnerving silence blanketed the room. He set his glass down with a click and headed for the balcony, summoning his clothes as he did.

In the distance, beyond the mountainous peaks of Tartarus, the gray sky had begun to whirl and rumble.

The Fates were angry.

What the fuck had happened?

He started to teleport as dread gathered heavily in his stomach, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned to find a pale-faced Thanatos.

No. It can’t be.

He knew what the God of Death was going to say. He could already feel the betrayal in his bones, grinding away.

“She did it,” Thanatos said. “Persephone did it. She made a deal with Apollo to heal Lexa.”

There was something about this that dissolved his previous feeling of regret and turned it to rage. His body shook with it. How could she have been so reckless, and to involve Apollo ? After he had been so clear about his hatred for the God of Music? After he had bargained to get her out of owing him anything? Had his sacrifice meant nothing to her?

Hades curled his fingers into fists and met Thanatos’s haunted eyes.

“Release the Furies,” he commanded.

Hades did not often like to call on the Furies. They were not discreet creatures, and their presence in the Underworld—as well as on Olympus—was always known.

He did not even flinch when their horrific cries breached the air, pricking his skin as he turned to see three winged creatures explode from the depths of Tartarus to retrieve Persephone and Apollo.

* * *

Hades felt like he was being torn to pieces from the inside out, his anger was so acute.

Was there no end to this turmoil?

He had killed friends and monsters, bargained and sacrificed. He had made deals to protect and promise a future that he was beginning to think only he wanted.

Hades teleported to Nevernight, where he waited for the Furies to bring his captives. He’d have done this in the Underworld, but he did not want to offer Apollo another invitation into his realm. It was not long before he sensed their approach, an energy so volatile, it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

He watched as Persephone and Apollo landed at his feet. Persephone was deposited gracefully, landing in the position she had fallen when the Furies had captured and paralyzed her with their venomous snakes, while Apollo was dropped right on his face. Hades appreciated the satisfying crack that followed his landing and probably would have grinned had he not been so fucking angry…devastated…betrayed.

His eyes shifted to Persephone, who rose to her feet on shaking legs.

The first thing he noticed about her was how tired she looked. She was pale, her eyes were red, and the shadows beneath them looked deep and dark. She likely had not slept last night if she’d been with Apollo, but it still worried him, more so when she met his gaze. Her eyes had no luster, and he could feel her apprehension and fear. It built between them, as sharp and tangled as thorned vines.

“Fucking Furies,” Apollo groaned.

Hades’s attention shifted to the god as he got to his feet. The Furies must have pulled him from sleep, because he wore a floral robe and his usually pristine hair was a mess.

Hades would have liked to pummel him into the ground until he reached the depths of Tartarus but refrained from making a single move. Once he began, he wouldn’t stop. This kind of rage had no rationale. It coiled through him, tightening every part of his body until he wanted to burst.

“You know you could upgrade to something a little more modern to enforce natural order, Hades,” Apollo said, oblivious to Hades’s fury. “I’d rather be carried off by a well-muscled man than a trio of albino goddesses and a serpent.”

“I thought we had a deal, Apollo.” Hades spoke slowly, his face growing hot from his anger. He had not invited Apollo into his realm to bargain for this to happen.

“You mean the deal where I stay away from your goddess in exchange for a favor?” Apollo’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

Hades waited, actively suppressing the overwhelming urge to punch the god’s teeth down his throat.

“I’d have been more than obliging, except your little lover showed up at Erotas demanding my help. While I was in the middle of a bath, I should add.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Persephone said, the words slipping from between clenched teeth.

Hades’s jaw flexed. Erotas was a brothel in the pleasure district where clients bid on men and women they wanted to fuck. Apollo was a regular visitor, bidder, and, he imagined, fucker, and the thought of Persephone walking those streets and entering that house made Hades feel sick.

“She can be very persuasive when she’s angry. The magic helped. You never said she was a goddess. No wonder you snatched her up quickly.”

Hades’s mood darkened further at that comment, and he glanced at Persephone. This was the last thing she should want for herself. Apollo had gained more than just a bargain with his lover. She had given him power over her in the form of a secret. He imagined she knew by now that the God of Music wouldn’t let that go to waste.

“I could hardly deny her request when she had razor-sharp thorns pointed at my nether regions.”

Hades’s mood lightened at that comment, and he almost smiled at the image of Apollo being castrated by Persephone’s magic. Then he remembered that he had probably been naked during this entire encounter and frowned.

“So we struck a deal. A bargain , as you like to call it. She asked me to heal her little friend, and in exchange, she provides me with…companionship.”

“Don’t make it sound gross, Apollo,” Persephone hissed, glaring at the god, and while Hades watched her, she did not look at him.

“Gross?”

“Everything that comes out of your mouth sounds like a sexual innuendo.”

“Does not!”

“Does too.”

“Enough!” Hades snarled.

Persephone startled, her eyes finally meeting his, and once more, he saw her fear. There was a part of him that wanted her to be afraid, because he wanted her to understand the severity of what she had done. This had consequences beyond anything he could control.

He held her gaze as he continued to address Apollo. “If you are no longer in need of my goddess, I would like a word with her. Alone.”

Apollo did not hesitate. As arrogant and irritating as he was, he knew when to push buttons.

“She’s all yours,” he replied and vanished without another word.

Silence stretched as Hades stood opposite Persephone, trying to understand what she had done, why she had done it.

I don’t know how to lose someone, Hades , she’d said. So had she just decided not to learn at all?

“What have you done?”

Persephone’s eyes flashed. Normally, he would have fed her defiance because he loved her passion, but this—this was misguided.

“I saved Lexa.”

“Is that what you think?”

He took a step toward her, and his magic snaked around him. He couldn’t tell if it was trying to protect him or Persephone because he was losing his temper, and by the time he stood inches from her, he no longer bore his mortal glamour.

“She was going to die—”

“She was choosing to die!” Hades shouted. She stared back, her eyes glistening. “And instead of honoring her wish, you intervened. All because you are afraid of pain .”

“I am afraid of pain,” she yelled back, her voice imbued with a hatred he had never heard before. “Will you mock me for that as you mock all mortals?”

“There is no comparison,” he spat. “At least mortals are brave enough to face it.”

Her whole body seemed to flinch in that moment, igniting her magic and pushing thorns from her skin. Hades watched once more in horror as her body became covered in bleeding spikes. They ran down her arms, over her back and stomach, and down her legs. If she did not learn control, she would tear herself to pieces. He reached for her because he didn’t know what else to do, and despite everything, he could not stand watching this. He wanted to heal her—not just these physical wounds but the ones on her heart and soul.

“Persephone—”

But she took a step back, shutting down his advances. She inhaled sharply as she made a miserable attempt to cover the thorns by crossing her arms over her chest.

“If you cared, you would have been there.”

“I was there!” He had been there every time she had come to him, and each time, she had begged him to save Lexa’s life.

“You never once came with me to the hospital when I had to watch my best friend lie unresponsive. You never once stood by me while I held her hand. You could have told me when Thanatos would start showing up. You could have let me know she was…choosing to die. But you didn’t. You hid all that, like it was some fucking secret. You weren’t there .”

His eyes widened, and the heaviness in his chest expanded into his stomach. It was true he had not considered many of those things, but that was because he had never given courtesies in death. He’d also been pulled away nearly every other day by something. If it wasn’t the Graeae, it had been Hera’s trials.

“I didn’t know you wanted me there,” he said, his voice quiet. He had thought the time she spent with Lexa at the hospital was time she wanted to herself.

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, brows lowering.

“I’m not the most welcomed sight at a hospital, Persephone.”

“That’s your excuse?”

The edge to her voice made him feel defensive. “And what’s yours?” he asked, voice raising once more, despite how badly he wanted to remain calm. “You never told me—”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you to be there for me when my friend is dying. Instead, you act like it’s as…normal as breathing.”

“Because death has forever been my existence!”

“That’s your problem!” she said, letting her hands fall to her sides, flinching as she did. Her arms ran red with blood and it dripped to the floor. Hades’s stomach twisted and his throat felt tight. He wanted to fix this. “You’ve been the God of the Underworld so long, you’ve forgotten what it is really like to be on the brink of losing someone. Instead, you spend all your time judging mortals for their fear of your realm, for their fear of death, for their fear of losing who they love!”

“So you were angry with me,” he said, and the more he continued, the more incensed he felt. “And once again, instead of coming to me, you decided to punish me by seeking Apollo’s help.”

Why was it always Apollo?

“I wasn’t trying to punish you. When I decided to go to Apollo, I no longer felt like you were an option.”

There was a pain to those words that lanced through his chest. Did she know how badly that hurt him?

“After everything I did to protect you from him—”

“I didn’t ask that of you,” she snapped.

“No, I suppose you didn’t,” he replied bitterly. “You have never welcomed my aid, especially when it wasn’t what you wanted to hear.”

“That’s not fair.” Her voice shook.

“Isn’t it? I have offered an aegis, and you insisted you do not need a guard, yet you are regularly accosted on your way to work. You barely accept rides from Antoni, and you only do now because you don’t want to hurt his feelings. Then, when I offer comfort, when I try to understand your hurt over Lexa’s pain, it isn’t enough.”

“Your comfort?” she shouted. “What comfort? When I came to you, begging you to save Lexa, you offered to let me grieve. What was I supposed to do? Stand back and watch her die when I knew I could prevent it?”

“Yes!” he shouted, throwing up his hands. “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do. You are not above the law of my realm, Persephone!” Not even he was above the law of the dead, and he wore that reminder on his skin. “I don’t see why her death matters. You come to the Underworld every day. You would have seen Lexa again!”

“Because it’s not the same!”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he demanded.

She crossed her arms over her chest once more. Each time, she flinched, and he thought that maybe her anger made her momentarily forget her pain. But as she stood there facing him, she seemed to fold in on herself, as if she were afraid to say whatever she was truly thinking.

“What happens if you and I…if the Fates decide to unravel our future? I don’t want to be so lost in you, so anchored in the Underworld, that I don’t know how to exist after.”

A thickness gathered in his throat. Losing Lexa to the Underworld was too great of a risk in the event that they did not make it, and the worst part was that everything he had been doing up to this point—the absurd labors, seeking out the Graeae, the truce with Dionysus—was for her. To ensure they had a future.

Was she so uncertain?

“I’m beginning to think that maybe you don’t want to be in this relationship,” Hades said.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

She looked confused and afraid as she answered. “I don’t know. Just that…right when I was really starting to figure out who I was, you came along and fucked it all up. I don’t know who I’m supposed to be. I don’t know—”

“What you want,” he finished.

“That’s not true. I want you. I love—”

“Don’t say you love me,” he said, looking away. “I can’t…hear that right now.”

The words would hurt. They did hurt. If she loved him, why was she planning for a future without him?

After a stretch of silence, Persephone spoke in a sad whisper. “I thought you loved me.”

“I do,” he said, frowning, and he considered that perhaps he put too much faith in the threads that wove them together. “But I think I may have misunderstood.”

“Misunderstood what?”

“The Fates,” he answered, eyes lifting to hers. How was it possible that she looked more stricken now than before? “I have waited for you for so long, I ignored the fact that they rarely weave happy endings.”

“You cannot mean that,” she said, her voice breaking.

“I mean it,” he said, and his tone was just as sad. “You’ll find out why soon enough.”

Because it was likely she would blame him for anything that happened to Lexa moving forward. He called up his glamour and straightened the sleeves and lapels of his jacket.

He looked at her one last time. She was a haunting image. Pale and sad and bleeding, and he knew he would regret leaving her like this, but he would regret it more if he stayed.

“You should know that your actions have condemned Lexa to a fate worse than death,” he said, then left Persephone behind in Nevernight.