Chapter XXII

Chapter XXII

A Desperate Plea

Hades tried to channel his aggression into a productive torture session, and while that usually helped lighten his dark mood, this time, it only succeeded in making him feel far more chaotic. He could not unsee Persephone’s pain, could not unhear her words.

You weren’t there.

The accusation tore through him as he considered what he would do differently, but did any of that matter now that they were here? On the other side of her decision to go to Apollo for help? She had explicitly broken the rules of his realm.

He wondered if she had been proud of herself when she’d discovered an alternative to healing Lexa in the God of Music. Had Apollo explained that his bow and arrow only healed bodily wounds? Had he been clear that it could not heal a broken soul? Had he been so mesmerized by Persephone’s offer of companionship that he’d failed to consider the consequences of his own actions?

Likely he had not cared at all.

And that was another thing— the companionship .

Hades gritted his teeth. Now he had to watch Persephone frolic about New Athens with the same god who had fucked his former lover, and while he felt that Persephone resented Apollo too much to fall victim to his wiles, he worried that the god would force her into situations that would harm her.

He’d have to think of a great enough threat to keep the god in line. Otherwise, he’d never feel comfortable with that arrangement.

When Hades finally left Tartarus, he went in search of the Graeae, finding them nestled in a rocky, cave-like area at the edge of Asphodel that mimicked their home in the Upperworld. While he did not approach, he watched them from afar, sitting on a set of large rocks while a fire danced before them. They talked and cackled and passed a bowl from which each of them drank, and the only solace Hades took from their deaths was that at least here, they seemed at peace.

* * *

Eventually, Hades returned to the palace, though he felt a great sense of foreboding knowing Persephone would not be there. It was made worse when he found his way barred by Cerberus, Typhon, and Orthrus. They stood on all fours, lips curled back, showing their teeth as they growled.

“So you are betraying me too?”

“No one has betrayed you,” Hecate said, approaching. It was as if the goddess had formed from the darkness behind her.

Hades flattened his lips and glared. “I recognize Persephone is far better than me, but you cannot ignore her blatant disregard for the rules of my realm.”

“You sound like a child,” Hecate chided.

“Hecate, I am in no mood—”

“Likely not. You are rarely in a mood for anything other than sex, which, from what I have seen, will not happen anytime soon.”

Hades curled his fingers into fists and turned on his heels, but Hecate had teleported and blocked his way once more.

“As much as Persephone must deal with the consequences of her actions, so must you, and one of those is hearing what I have to say to you.”

“And what can you have to say to me that I don’t already know?” Hades snarled. “That I fucked up? That I should have been more present?”

“Maybe you should have been more present, but you weren’t, so what are you going to do now?”

Hades stared and Hecate repeated herself.

“What are you going to do now, Hades?”

“I…don’t know,” he admitted. He hadn’t thought beyond what had happened today, hadn’t even processed it completely, though he had taken a few key things from their interaction, and one of those was that Persephone wasn’t even certain about the future of their relationship.

“I heard that,” Hecate snapped, and Hades’s eyes flashed.

Hades grit his teeth. “We had an agreement, Hecate, that you would not read my mind.”

“And I respect it when you aren’t being a complete and utter idiot,” she replied. “You are just as uncertain about your future as Persephone.”

“I have every reason to be,” he countered. Had he not just spent the past few weeks entangled in a battle with Hera to ensure that the goddess sided with him when it was time to ask Zeus for permission to marry Persephone?

“You are so centered on securing her hand in marriage, you aren’t even focused on laying the foundation for it. Just because the Fates have entangled your future doesn’t mean you have no work to do.”

Hades stood in a tense, angry silence. In part, he was not ready to hear any of this, but he also knew that Hecate was right.

“You have bent to Hera’s will out of fear, yet I ask you, does her blessing mean more than the love you have for Persephone?”

“Of course not,” Hades snapped. She was simplifying Hera’s intentions. It wasn’t just about approval of their future but assurance that she would not harm or curse Persephone as a means to get back at him.

“Perhaps the worst part of all this is that she doesn’t even know what you’ve been fighting for. You haven’t told her. You’ve told her nothing. You did not even tell her the consequences of bringing Lexa back.”

“She should trust me.”

“Fuck you, Hades.”

He stared, a little shocked by her vitriol.

“You want her to be your queen, to stand beside you in judgment of souls, yet you could not even tell her that broken souls never come back right. You could have shown her the consequences. She is not some mortal who came to beg at your feet for a bargain.”

A thickness gathered within Hades’s chest. It was almost suffocating and nearly impossible to swallow it down.

“People like Persephone, who have been told half-truths and lies their whole life, need more than words, Hades, and you—you have to realize this isn’t even about love or trust anymore. It’s about you. Your fears. Your insecurities. You cannot continue to live a life and not show her the world you have created, no matter how awful or hard or scary. She deserves to know what it means to love you fully. Do you not wish for that?”

“I wish for it,” he admitted. “But I do not believe she will love all parts of me.”

“That is unfair to her,” Hecate said. “You think her darkness cannot love yours? She was made for you.”

Hades lowered his eyes and felt the weight of his defeat.

“Now what are you going to do about this?”

“I…don’t know yet.”

“You do not have to know today,” she said. “But you will have to decide, because Persephone is about to learn what it means to bring Lexa back, and she will need you, more than anything.”

Hades frowned. He suspected that whatever lay before her with Lexa would be far worse than what was behind them now.

“Come, boys,” Hecate said. “We have work to do.”

Hecate left the hallway, and each of his Dobermans glared at him before turning one by one to follow the goddess.

* * *

Hera did not come to collect Hippolyta’s belt, which further confirmed Hades’s suspicion that she had not truly cared about the labor so much as she wished to use it to distract him. He was certain now that he understood the goddess’s motives, though he had yet to confirm her alliance with Theseus.

When he’d refused to participate in her revolt, Hera had sentenced him to labors that would benefit her. The death of Briareus was revenge but also ensured that Zeus would not be able to call on a great ally who had defeated her in the past. Fight night had likely been a test to evaluate the use of the hydra, the Stymphalian birds, and Heracles as weapons against the gods. Obviously, they’d found a use for the hydra’s venom, and while Hades did think that Hera could have used Hippolyta’s belt, he knew now that it was a decoy.

She’d unwittingly managed to manipulate Hades into benefiting her cause, and he resented it—but he would find a way to get back at the goddess. She would regret her entanglement in his life.

In the meantime, Ilias had prepared Zofie for her assignment. They’d agreed that she would keep her distance by using a particular power Hades had been surprised to learn she possessed—the power of shape-shifting. The power itself was not unusual; he’d just not expected the Amazon to morph into an average white cat. Still, it meant Zofie could keep a close and discreet eye on Persephone, which gave Hades peace of mind considering they were currently not speaking. As much as he wanted to, he did not know how to move forward yet. Apologies seemed too trivial here, but perhaps that was the only way to begin again.

“Are you even listening?” There was an edge to the voice that brought Hades out of his thoughts, and he met a pair of brown eyes. They were set in the face of a mortal man with dark, curly hair and thick glasses. He was Hades’s first bargain of the night, and potentially his last.

He could not focus on this right now.

“No,” Hades admitted, and as hard as it was, he offered an apology. “I’m…sorry. Please continue.”

The young man’s lips were pressed thin, a reflection of his anger, but he sighed and continued. Before Hades had zoned out, the man had explained that his grandmother had been his guardian since the age of five and she was now dying.

“The doctor has given her two months to live,” he said. “Please…she’s all I have.”

Hades frowned at the young man. “I will not bargain for the life of a soul,” he said, and though they were the words he always used to deny a request like this, they were harder and more painful to say this time.

His rejection just seemed to spur the mortal on.

“Then I need to bargain for something else,” the man said, searching for ideas. “The money to get her the care and medicine she needs. Maybe there’s a chance—”

“Have you asked your grandmother what she wants?” Hades interrupted him.

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Have you asked your grandmother if she is at peace with dying?”

“She doesn’t want to leave me,” he said defensively.

“I did not ask you if she wanted to leave you,” Hades said. “I asked if she is at peace with dying.”

The mortal did not respond.

Hades rose to his feet. “Ask her. Respect her answer.”

It was what he wished he had told Persephone.

He left the suite and headed into the lounge, where mortals were gathered beneath low light playing poker, blackjack, and roulette among other games.

“Will you take another contract?” Ilias asked, coming to stand beside him.

“No, no more tonight,” Hades replied.

Ilias nodded. “Then I’d like you to meet me at the Grove in an hour.”

Hades raised a questioning brow.

“This is something you have to see,” the satyr promised.

Hades did not question him beyond that and left the lounge. As he passed Euryale, the gorgon inhaled, her head rising, casting light over her scarred and blindfolded eyes.

“Troubled, Lord Hades?” she asked.

“More than you can imagine, Euryale,” he said, continuing to the balcony that overlooked the floor of Nevernight.

As he looked down at the floor, he recalled the first time he had seen Persephone. If she had existed during the Trojan War, it would have been her beauty that had launched a thousand ships.

She’d sat with Lexa, Sybil, and Adonis. He remembered worrying over whether she liked Adonis and if she’d leave with him, though he had known then he wouldn’t let her leave because the urge to claim her, to mark her, almost sent him to her side then. He had been both bewildered and disturbed by his fierce need for her and had returned to the Underworld only to find that her thread was woven with his—that she was his fate, and even now, in the face of all this pain and anguish, he did not want it any other way.

He sighed, rubbing a spot just over his heart that felt tense and knotted, when his phone rang. When he saw the caller was Antoni, he answered with dread in his stomach, because this likely had something to do with Persephone.

“Yes?”

“Ha-Hades?” Antoni asked.

“Who else, Antoni?” he asked, frustrated already.

The cyclops laughed nervously. “Of course, my lord. I am sorry, my lord. It’s just…uh…I was on my way to pick up Persephone, you see? At the Pearl where she insisted on going after work, and…uh…she’s gone.”

“ Gone? ” Hades repeated.

“She just…vanished. Zofie said she was there one moment and gone the next.”

“Fuck,” Hades said under his breath. He hadn’t considered that Zofie likely could not follow when Apollo chose to call on his bargain with Persephone.

“Where is Zofie?”

“She’s…with me.”

Hades was quiet for a long moment as he attempted to locate Persephone through her magic, but the connection was dead, which only added to his irritation.

“Wh-what would you like us to do?” Antoni asked.

“It’s likely you can do nothing,” Hades said, though he would try to send Ilias’s team to search for her. There were a number of clubs Apollo was known to frequent.

“We’re sorry, my lord,” Antoni said.

He sighed, frustrated, and then managed, “How is Zofie?”

“Ah, well, she’s…I think she expects to be… murdered .”

“Tell her it isn’t time yet,” Hades replied and hung up.

He seethed for a moment, his frustration renewed, though he was less angry at Persephone than he was at the situation she’d put herself in. She was at the mercy of another god, and as much as he hated that, he knew she hated it more.

Hades did ask Ilias to send a few of his men out to search the various clubs for Apollo while he did his best to stay occupied as he waited for Persephone’s magic to flare to life once more, and when it did, he teleported, appearing in her room. He heard voices coming from the living room—Sybil, Zofie, and Antoni.

“What did Apollo make you do?” he heard Sybil ask, and he held his breath as she answered.

“He wanted me to judge a karaoke contest,” Persephone replied. “And he threw a fit when I did not choose him as the winner.”

Hades felt a sense of pride that she had refused to name Apollo as the winner, though anxiety quickly followed at the thought of what he’d do in retaliation.

“Tell me you didn’t, Persephone,” Sybil said, sounding shocked. “Apollo does not lose.”

“Well, he did tonight,” she replied smugly. “He could not hold a candle to Marsyas. I doubt he will be eager to have me judge him again. He ended the night with a kick to the balls.”

A smile curled Hades’s lips.

She was definitely the opposite of Leuce.

There was a beat of silence.

“Any updates on Lexa?” Persephone asked. It was a question delivered with care and a little trepidation as if she feared the answer, though she knew it would not be death.

“She was still asleep when I visited,” Sybil answered.

Another bout of silence followed, and there was an energy running through him that made him impatient to see her. He had no idea what kind of struggle she had faced when Apollo had snatched her to do his bidding, had no idea what sort of stress and anxiety she was feeling in the aftermath of Lexa’s… healing …but it did not sound good or pleasant.

“I’m going to bed,” Persephone said after a while. “See you guys tomorrow.”

She noticed him immediately upon entering her room and closed the door. She did not pause in surprise or hesitate to be alone with him.

“How long have you been here?” she asked.

“Not long,” he said.

There was a pause as she threw her purse on the bed. “You know what happened?”

“I overheard, yes.”

She swallowed and asked in a quiet voice, “Are you angry?”

“Yes, but not with you.”

He took two steps forward, which brought him close enough to touch her. He placed his hands on her arms, swept them up to her shoulders, and then touched her face. Her skin was warm, and she smelled like vanilla and lavender—pleasant and sweet.

He wanted to pull her close and bury his face in her hair. He wanted to kiss her and make love to her. He wanted to promise her things that were beyond this world.

“I couldn’t sense you,” he said, staring hard at her. He wanted to know how she did it, how she cut him off from her magic. “I couldn’t find you.”

“I’m here, Hades. I’m fine.” Her tone was hushed, and she stared up at him, placing her hands on his forearms.

Fine.

She was fine.

That word rattled through his head wrong, and he released her, reaching to turn on the light. When he looked back at her, she was squinting.

“You will never know how difficult this is for me,” he said. He wasn’t even sure what he was talking about—if it was Lexa or Apollo or just the distance he felt between them, a dark chasm that lay at their feet, though Persephone obviously thought she knew, because she had a reply.

“I imagine as difficult as it’s been for me to deal with Minthe and Leuce, except that Apollo has never been my lover.”

Hades glared. He did not like Apollo’s name and the word lover spoken so close together, and if he could, he would take them from her mouth and spit them on the ground.

“You have not been to the Underworld.” He tried not to make it sound like an accusation, but he could not help it. When she was angry, she seemed to avoid it altogether. She crossed her arms, as if she wanted to deflect his words.

“I’ve been busy.”

“The souls miss you, Persephone.” I miss you. “Do not punish them because you are angry with me.”

She glared at him. “Don’t lecture me, Hades. You have no idea what I’ve been dealing with.”

“Of course not,” he said, surly. “That would mean you’d have to talk to me.”

“You mean like you talk to me?” she countered. “I’m not the only one with communication problems, Hades.”

He pressed his lips together and took a step away from her.

“I didn’t come here to argue with you or lecture you. I came to see if you were okay.”

“Why come at all? Antoni would have told you.”

She’d have probably preferred that. He looked away from her, scowling. “I had to,” he said and took a breath. “I had to see you myself.”

She stepped toward him. “Hades, I—”

“I should go,” he said. “I’m late for a meeting.”

And while it was true, he knew he was really running from her.

* * *

Hades teleported to the Grove, which, while he owned it, was operated by Ilias. He preferred anonymity and applied the same practice to his other restaurants scattered about—a couple of pubs and cafés, even a few street carts. If there was one thing Hades had learned in the time he had been alive, it was that people tended to talk more when drink and food were close at hand. It was a great way to gather intel on the various happenings across New Greece.

He manifested beside Ilias, who stood in the shadows on the rooftop restaurant, observing operations. Staff buzzed about carrying trays of drinks and food, and there was a low murmur that ebbed and flowed as people conversed and ate and moved dishes about. It was the only indication of how busy it truly was, since parties were hidden in pockets of lush flora.

“Right on time,” Ilias commented, glancing at Hades once and then nodding as a host led two familiar individuals to a table out of sight.

One was Theseus.

The other was Ariadne.

“Shocking,” Hades said, though his voice was monotone, and he was not so much surprised as he was disappointed. Now he wondered what the detective’s objective had been when she had begged for his help.

“They dated very briefly,” the satyr explained. “But it seems Theseus was more interested in Ariadne’s sister, Phaedra.”

This was the first time Hades had heard that Ariadne had a sister, and if that were the case, why were they at the Grove?

“Thank you, Ilias,” Hades said before he called up his glamour to move unseen between gardens, lush alcoves, and canopied groves. He found the pair at a round table nestled in a recess of vines.

“I am in need of a favor,” Theseus was saying.

“I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement.”

He seemed to ignore her comment and continued. “I need you to help remove any suspicion your fellow detectives may have that I am involved with the Impious.”

“Why?” Ariadne asked, her voice on edge.

“Rumor has it they are about to become more…vocal.”

She did not ask what that meant, but Hades thought he had an idea, and he didn’t like it. The Impious were mortals who did not worship the gods. It was more of a belief system than it was an institution, though some chose to organize under the banner of Triad. It was an organization that used to terrorize the public to prove that the gods were passive, but with Theseus at the helm, they pretended to put aside their aggressive tactics in favor of appearing peaceful, though if Hades had to guess by Theseus’s ask, he’d found a new avenue to execute his violence, and he didn’t want the connection known.

“How can I possibly be responsible for what people think, Theseus?”

“You can. I do it all the time.”

“Just like you’ve done with my sister?”

The demigod did not flinch at her retort, though Hades was certain she meant it as an insult.

“Since you brought her up, I’ll remind you what’s at stake.”

“You already owe me one visit with her, Theseus,” she said, leaning across the table as she spoke through her teeth. “I helped you find the Graeae.”

“And they were useless,” he said.

“Like you?” she countered with her usual venom.

Theseus glared. “I am not the one who consistently fails to deliver.”

“I deliver. You just don’t like the results.”

“And you must not like seeing your sister.”

She sneered at him, but Hades noticed how Theseus stared at her, eyes set intently on her mouth. It was a predatory gaze, and after everything he had said to her tonight, it made Hades want to pluck his eyes from his head and shove them down his throat.

“Put that mouth of yours to good use and do as I say,” said Theseus.

A tense, hateful silence followed, then Ariadne spoke. “If I do as you say, when can I see my sister?”

“That depends entirely on you,” he replied.

Hades did not like whatever hold Theseus had over Ariadne’s sister—or Ariadne, for that matter. It was as if Theseus was holding her prisoner and only granting access to Phaedra when Ariadne performed like he wanted. Knowing the detective like he did, it was unlikely she’d see her sister again. Ariadne wasn’t someone to be controlled.

Now he wondered why she’d come to him about the missing women in New Greece. Had she thought her sister was among Dionysus’s maenads before she’d discovered otherwise?

Hades frowned and returned to Ilias, who he found directing staff in the kitchen. He tried to ignore how the clamor of dishes and chatter ceased at his presence.

“Theseus has Ariadne’s sister,” said Hades. “Find out why and who she is.”

Ilias nodded, though he did not take his eyes off his task, which was rolling silverware into black napkins.

“And keep an eye on them, especially Ariadne,” Hades said, biting the inside of his lip as he thought about the detective. He worried for her and feared the longer Theseus strung her along, the less he would need her. Knowing the demigod, he was already planning how to dispose of her. She knew too much and wasn’t someone he could charm, which meant he couldn’t keep her around long term.

“Of course,” said Ilias.

“Hey! You can’t go back there!” someone shouted, disrupting his debrief with the satyr. For a moment, he thought that perhaps Ariadne had somehow spotted him, but when he turned, he found Leuce bursting through the kitchen doors.

“Hades!” She said his name, but he couldn’t tell if she was surprised or relieved at his presence. His lips flattened as he watched the pale nymph approach, wide eyed and out of breath.

“What do you want, Leuce?” He was still angry with her about Iniquity, not to mention he still believed she was working against him and Persephone.

“I just…” she began, then hesitated. “Will you take me home?”

Hades and Ilias exchanged a look before the god asked, “Why?”

“I…I just feel afraid .”

“You feel afraid?” he repeated. Leuce was a lot of things, but never afraid.

“When I was walking home from Iniquity, I got the sense someone was following me,” she said, and Hades frowned. Likely, she wasn’t wrong. Now and then, a few unsavory characters would linger outside Iniquity and attempt to track various attendees to darkened allies. Usually, they were interested in obtaining an obol to get into the club. “I stopped here because I thought Ilias might be able to help.” Her eyes shifted to the satyr.

“I can take her home, Hades. It’s nothing.”

“No,” he said. He’d rather have the satyr here watching Theseus and Ariadne. It was far easier for him to take Leuce. Though he did not relish time spent with her, he would hate to discover that something had happened to her.

“Keep watch,” Hades reminded Ilias before ushering Leuce out of the kitchen and into a waiting elevator. They did not speak as they took it to the first floor of the parking garage and exited onto the street. Hades looked about as he set off east down the road, and though he saw no one moving in the shadows, he did not trust that whoever had been following her had not walked on to head her off while she was in the restaurant.

“Hades, wait!” Leuce called, and in the next moment, he felt her hand reach for his. Her touch slithered through him, and he jerked his hand away.

“Don’t touch me,” he said.

“Sorry. I was just trying to keep up.”

Hades said nothing but slowed his pace, which allowed her to walk beside him, the steady tap of her heels grinding on his nerves.

“I hope you have forgiven Persephone for attending Iniquity.”

“There was nothing to forgive,” he replied.

“Then have you forgiven me?”

Hades did not respond, because the answer was no.

Leuce scoffed. “Where is this understanding for me? Where was it when we were together?”

Hades cringed. “I have no interest in reflecting on my past with you, Leuce.”

“You’ve changed for her.”

“You only think that because you were gone so long,” Hades replied. “You know nothing about me. Not anymore.”

“I…I’m not saying that because I am angry,” she said. “I’m saying that because I like Persephone. Despite what you think, I do not wish her harm.”

“Perhaps if you’d admit that Demeter gave you life, I’d be more willing to believe that.”

“If you want answers, you’d have to do more to protect me, Hades,” she replied.

Those words gave him pause, and he wondered what she meant—or rather, what she feared. They said nothing else until they had made it to Leuce’s apartment. She unlocked the door and stepped inside.

“If protecting Persephone meant protecting you, I’d do whatever it took,” Hades said.

“You can start by giving me a new job,” she said and then offered a small, sad smile. “I’ve already said too much.”

Then the nymph slammed her door in his face.

Before Hades returned to the Underworld, he stopped by Persephone’s room, where he intended to tell her about his night—namely that he had seen Leuce home. However, when he manifested, he found her asleep, and given that she had been so tired earlier, he did not wish to wake her, so he smoothed his hand through her hair, inhaling her sweet scent before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered and vanished.