Chapter VIII

Chapter VIII

Secrets Unravel

It was two hours before Hades was finished signing off on designs and approving new fundraising opportunities for the Halcyon Project. As he went to leave, he dropped everything by Katerina’s office. She was hard at work, Ariadne’s folder open on her desk.

“That was not a few things,” he said.

“Relative,” she said. “Besides, you’re the one who was explicit about being involved in the project. I am only following your instructions.”

He did not always need to have control, especially if he found people he trusted to see his visions through, and while he did trust Katerina, the Halcyon Project was personal. He wanted it to capture the essence of Persephone, and he felt like the only one qualified to do so.

He nodded to the folder. “Let Ilias know as soon as you find something. He’s on the case too.”

Katerina nodded grimly, and there was a part of him that hated to have given her something so heavy. Katerina was a fierce advocate for women, having her own history with domestic violence.

“Will you be okay?”

“I will,” she promised. “I’d just like to find them.”

Hades agreed and, with that, left to return to the Underworld. Persephone would be off work soon, and he did not wish to break his promise of seeing her tonight. There was an ever-present thought in the back of his mind that at any point, he could be drawn away to deal with some threat. If not ones that already existed—Hera, Leuce, Dionysus—it would be something new.

Because of that, he used this time to unwind, wandering into the fields and summoning Cerberus, Typhon, and Orthrus, only as the dogs approached, he found they had morphed into their singular form—a single body that shared three similar heads. Despite this, the three always maintained distinct personalities, which were very evident even now. Cerberus, the middle, had a stoic expression. Typhon, on the right, was calm, though his ears were up and alert. Orthrus, on the left, had his tongue lolling out of his mouth, and the right foot of their large body bounced.

Hades raised a brow. “Were you part of Hecate’s punishments today?”

The three Dobermans took whatever form they pleased, but Hecate often used this one—their monstrous form—to chase deserving souls across Tartarus. In some cases, she allowed the three to devour their prey.

In answer, the three barked.

“I see,” Hades replied. “Does that mean you are too tired for a bit of fetch?”

All three perked up, and Hades smiled, manifesting their favorite red ball.

“I thought not,” he said, throwing the ball up and down. Their eyes followed. “Question is, will you three work together or not?”

Hades reared back.

“Not yet,” he ordered and tossed the ball clear across the Underworld. Three pairs of eyes watched him, body wiggling in anticipation of chasing their new target.

He smirked. “Go.”

The three let out a growl as they twisted, kicking up dirt as they took off in the direction he’d thrown the ball, and as he watched them bound across the green fields, dipping into rolling hills and parting tall grass, they broke apart, departing into their three bodies once more.

It looked like it was going to be a competition.

While Hades’s strength meant he could throw far, his dogs were monsters, and they had their own power, strength, and speed, which meant that while it would take a normal animal hours to retrieve the ball he’d thrown, it took seconds for them to return. As he stared across the horizon, he saw Orthrus in the lead, red ball clasped in his jowls, yet neither Typhon nor Cerberus were ready to lose. They kept on Orthrus’s heels, nipping at his feet to trip him up.

Still, Orthrus managed to make it to Hades without sabotage. He sat dutifully and dropped the ball at his feet. Typhon and Cerberus took their places beside him, waiting once more for another round.

Hades continued the game until his body glistened with sweat and the light in the Underworld was fading. He returned to the palace through the garden and found himself choosing flowers that made him think of Persephone either in color or beauty—irises and lilies, aster and bellflower—until he had a substantial bouquet.

He had to admit, until Persephone, he had not paid much attention to flowers, especially these—the ones he’d created via illusion. They were for the pleasure of the souls and staff and only managed to remind him of how he’d been born into this world, the war that followed, and the many dark days after. He built feeble walls around the darkness and decay, and while it looked nice enough, what lay beneath was never far from his mind, and he found himself wondering how he could manage to disclose such things to Persephone. How did one communicate lifetimes of turmoil and strife, mistakes and regrets?

“What are you doing?” Hecate asked.

He had been so lost in thought, he had not sensed her approach. He refocused and continued choosing flowers. “What does it look like?”

“Like you are about to add datura to your bouquet,” she said, and Hades’s hand hesitated over the white, trumpet-like flower. “It’s a nasty nightshade. Best leave it be.”

He straightened and turned to face the witch goddess.

“I’m ridiculous,” he said.

“You are ridiculous often,” Hecate said. “But you are not ridiculous for picking flowers for your lady love, if that is what you are insinuating.”

Hades wasn’t certain. He wasn’t even sure why he’d begun this. Why would the Goddess of Spring want a bunch of soon-to-be-dead flowers?

“I am going to fuck this up,” he said.

He often shared his doubts with Hecate, and while he knew they were safe with the goddess, her responses were not always comforting.

“Probably,” she said. “But Persephone is forgiving. You’ll remember that when you need to forgive her, won’t you?”

Hades’s brows rose. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“I always know something you don’t,” she replied. “And yet you still do not listen to me. You’ll always need to be forgiving, but especially with Persephone, who has yet to learn the cruelty of the world.”

Hades frowned. “I’d protect her from it if she’d let me.”

“You can’t,” Hecate said. “Nor should you. How else do you expect her to become a goddess otherwise?”

Is that what it takes to embrace divinity? Hades thought. Strife? He supposed it was true of every god he knew. Despite the differences among the Olympians, one thing always united them, and that was the shared trauma of war.

Hecate moved to his side and instructed, “Choose more greenery and those lilies that have yet to bloom.”

Hades paused for only a brief moment before doing as she instructed, noting that Hecate picked the datura.

“I thought you said that was poisonous,” Hades said, eyeing it in her hands.

“It is,” she replied and continued to pick the deceptive flower, root intact.

* * *

They spent a few more minutes in the garden before heading inside, where Persephone’s voice echoed in the hallway.

“Good boys!” she said, and they found her kneeling on the ground, rotating between rubbing Orthrus’s belly, Typhon’s neck, and Cerberus’s ear.

“Spoiled beasts,” Hecate chided.

“They are not spoiled. You’re not spoiled, are you?” Persephone asked. They preened beneath her hands, and Hades did not blame them. He liked being fawned over by her too. “You are all very good boys.”

She finally looked up and seemed to realize that he was also present. Her smile faltered, but only for a moment. She rose to her feet and spoke shyly.

“Hi.”

Hades was amused but no less flustered by her. He liked seeing her so at home in his realm. It made him feel like this could last an eternity.

Her eyes darted to the flowers in his hand. For a moment, he forgot he was holding them.

He cleared his throat and held them out. “I…picked these for you.”

Persephone smiled sheepishly and took them. “They are beautiful, Hades.”

There was a brief moment of strained silence, and Hecate cleared her throat. “Let’s go, beasts. The lovers would like time alone. Not in the dining room, please.”

The Goddess of Witchcraft turned and wandered down the palace hallway with the dogs in tow.

Persephone held Hades’s gaze. “What are these for?”

Hades rubbed the back of his neck. “I just thought you might like them.”

“I love them,” she said. “Thank you.”

There was a beat of silence, and Hades wondered why things felt so awkward between them. Had it been the flowers? Or did it have something to do with their earlier conversation? Was Persephone expecting him to dive into an explanation of his past and present?

“How was work?” he asked, disliking the doubt that twisted through him when she hesitated.

“Fine,” she answered quickly.

“Sounds frustrating,” he observed.

“I don’t want to talk about work,” she said, fixating on one of the lilies, drawing her finger along one of the petals.

Hades frowned. This had already gotten off to a bad start. “Then we won’t,” he said, and she looked at him over the bouquet.

“You said you took my picture,” she hedged. “Do you have a camera?”

“I do,” he said, and he couldn’t quite place how he felt about sharing it and its contents. Perhaps the closest feeling to describing it was embarrassment, though he also felt a little shameful. He should want to share this with Persephone. He supposed his only fear was what she would think, as always.

“Do you take pictures often?”

“Occasionally. When I find something worth immortalizing.”

Her lips curled. “But you are immortal.”

“I am, but moments are not. They are fleeting.”

“Can I see?” she asked.

“Of course,” he found himself saying, despite his concerns, and led her to his office.

“When did you begin this hobby?” Persephone asked as he made his way behind the desk.

“Years ago,” he said. “The technology of mortals never ceases to amaze me.”

And terrify him, if he were being honest.

He pulled the camera from a drawer behind his desk, turned it on, and handed it to her. While it was old, he liked the results he got from the pictures he took.

As she looked through the photos, he walked across the room to pour a drink, hoping it would settle the unfamiliar, nervous energy moving through him.

She was quiet for a moment and then said softly, “These are beautiful.”

A faint smile touched his lips, and he heard a click. When he looked, she was lowering the camera.

“There is a moment I want to keep.” Her voice was quiet.

He stared for a minute and then approached, setting his glass on the desk. He touched her chin with his thumb and forefinger and kissed her, pulling back when he heard the click of the camera.

“This moment too,” she whispered.

Hades wasn’t sure what to think, but he did not dislike this. “Will you let me take pictures of you?”

“You already have,” she said.

He swallowed something thick in his throat as he clarified. “Bare.”

She paused for a moment and then answered, “If you let me do the same.”

Hades held her heated gaze and took the camera from her before instructing, “Take off your skirt.”

He stepped back, camera in hand, and snapped a few pictures as she shimmied out of it. When it puddled on the floor, he approached and lifted her onto the desk, drawing her shirt over her head. He took a moment to kiss her mouth and the part of her breasts that pillowed over the top of her bra before handing the camera to her.

“Take pictures of yourself,” he said.

She stared at him for a moment, as if uncertain, so he prompted, “What would you send me when we are apart?”

Her eyes darkened. “And what will you do?”

“Watch,” he said. He took his glass, moved a few steps back, and sank into one of the chairs in front of the desk.

It took her a few minutes to get comfortable, but soon she was taking teasing pictures and explicit ones, and the longer Hades watched, the harder he grew. When she was finished, she sat on the edge of the desk with her legs crossed and took a final photo of him. He could not imagine how he looked—half crazed with lust, overcome by a primal need to claim her.

He thought he would go to her, but she came to him, straddling his thighs. She set the camera aside and unbuttoned his shirt. Her hands were hot against his skin as they made their way down his stomach to his erection, painfully restricted by his slacks. She freed it, only to reach for the camera.

Before she captured this moment, she looked at him. “What will you do with these?”

“Can you not guess?”

“Show me,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper.

It was so fucking hot in this room.

He reached between them and stroked himself, timing each movement with the click of the camera.

What the fuck was happening? He had never let anyone take pictures of him before, much less this, something so personal and so fucking intimate, yet he let it happen, and there came a point when the camera was set aside and their mouths collided. Persephone rose up onto her knees to guide Hades’s cock inside her and they rocked together. As their bodies grew slick and their breaths became ragged, Hades had never quite felt so desperate before, like everything that had come before this moment had made the chase for release so much sweeter. When they tumbled over the edge and lay in a breathless entanglement, Persephone shifted, reached for the camera, and took a picture of their faces.

“I want to remember this,” she said and kissed his raw lips.

He didn’t think he’d ever forget.

* * *

Hades had never consistently offered his time to mortals seeking bargains, and he had found since Persephone’s arrival, he had made himself available less and less, but the weekend was upon them, and there was a general discontent to the crowd gathered on the floor of Nevernight, a desperation that he thought he may as well attempt to cull.

So he bargained.

He had been right about the hopelessness he’d sensed. Every mortal who came to him was offering far more than they were at liberty to give.

“Please,” a woman had begged after her loss to Hades. “I will do anything… T-take my firstborn!”

Unease slithered through him at her offer.

“Money in exchange for a soul is a bitter bargain.” Hades frowned. “I pity the child who is born to you.”

She seemed to brighten. “Is that a yes?”

Hades scowled. “Out!”

Hades’s tone must have frightened her because she fled for the door. The next mortal was a man, desperate for money, who offered Hades the pick of the hetairai employed within his brothel.

Hades raised a brow. “I have no interest.”

The man’s face fell. “But, my lord, no singular woman can meet a man’s needs.”

Hades considered listing the faults of this man’s soul, hoping each one might hit like a bullet to the chest—insecure, lonely, dishonest, cruel—but there would be no benefit and would only mean that the man would linger longer in his presence, so he offered a threat instead.

“If you want to exit this club no worse than when you arrived, I suggest you leave. Now .”

The man scrambled from the room, and Hades was left far more frustrated than when he’d begun. He was reminded everyday how the public looked at him…which, sometimes, was no different from how they viewed Poseidon or Zeus. Neither of his brothers were particularly loyal gods, and it was likely they would have jumped at the menagerie of offerings tonight, but Hades was not like his brothers and he never would be.

The proposed deals were no better after that—just a string of beggars hoping for money, truly believing that a bargain with the God of the Dead would make their lives better.

The last client of the night was a young man around twenty or so, and while he presented clean shaven and well dressed, a darkness lingered beneath his skin, a corruption that had made his life spiral out of control. He was addicted to drugs, and if Hades had to guess, he’d say it was Evangeline, possibly one of the most destructive and common street drugs on the market. Its creation had originated with Eris, the Goddess of Destruction.

“What is it you wish to bargain for?” Hades asked.

“I…uh…I need money.”

“For drugs?” Hades asked.

The man’s eyes widened. “No… I need to replace the money I spent on…”

He did not finish his sentence, and Hades guessed it was due to shame.

The man took a breath and explained, “I’m supposed to be in college, but I haven’t gone all semester. I’ve been lying to my parents…but if I can get the money back, I can return. They won’t have to know.”

Hades raised a brow. “You think you can return to college with an addiction so severe?”

Just as the man was about to open his mouth, Hades felt the familiar tendrils of Persephone’s magic call to his own, which meant two things—she was here and she was angry. A particularly fierce dread took hold of his heart.

What had she discovered?

The door swung open, and Persephone was framed in the dim light from the hallway. Her glamour peeked through to reveal the goddess beneath—gleaming eyes and glowing skin. She was also livid. A deep flush kissed the high parts of her cheeks, and her lips and jaw were set hard.

The mortal turned to look at her, so desperate for his own bargain that he did not even notice her faltering glamour.

“If it’s him you want, you’ll have to wait your turn. Took me three years to get this appointment.”

She did not even glance at him. All her anger was directed at Hades. He straightened beneath her gaze.

“Leave, mortal.”

It was unnerving to hear her say such a thing, when so often, she tended to relate more to human than god. The man must have picked up on the threat in her voice, because he clumsily got to his feet and darted out the door, which Persephone slammed shut.

“I’ll have to erase his memory. Your eyes are glowing,” Hades said, and despite himself, he found himself smiling. He liked when she seemed unafraid of her power. “Who angered you?”

“Can you not guess?” she asked. Her voice trembled, but only slightly.

Hades’s brows rose and he waited.

“I just had the pleasure of meeting your lover.”

Hades didn’t have to think long about who she was referring to—Leuce.

Fuck.

“I see.”

Her head tilted slightly. “You have seconds to explain before I turn her into a weed.”

At the rate she was going, he wouldn’t be surprised if he ended the night as a plant, so he began to explain.

“Her name is Leuce. She was my lover a long time ago.”

“What is a long time?”

“More than a millennia, Persephone.”

“Then why did she introduce herself to me as your lover today?”

Because she’s an idiot , he thought. “Because to her, I was her lover up until Sunday.”

Her power surged as she clenched her fists, and leafy vines erupted from the floor of the suite, covering the blue walls completely.

“And why is that?”

“Because she’s been a poplar tree for more than two thousand years.”

“Why was she a poplar tree?”

Hades took a breath. He’d been reminded of this too much over the last week when all he wanted to do was keep it in the past.

“She betrayed me.”

“ You turned her into a tree?” she asked, clearly stunned, and Hades wondered what had shocked her more, the fact that he had exacted revenge or the way in which he’d done it. “Why?”

“I caught her fucking someone else. I was blind with anger. I turned her into a poplar tree.”

Persephone’s features were still stiff with anger. “She must not remember that, or she wouldn’t introduce herself as your lover.”

She remembered, though he had a suspicion she blamed Apollo more than herself for the treachery, but he’d rather not get into specifics about why Leuce was still claiming to be his lover. It was likely only something she had used in hopes that she would get what she wanted, and it had backfired, so all he said was, “It is possible she has repressed the memory.”

Persephone took a breath and looked toward the ceiling before she started to pace, and he thought that it had something to do with the magic building inside her.

“How many lovers have you taken?”

“Persephone.” His tone was quiet. She could not know that this question caused him so much discomfort. It was an impossible question, an unfair question, and to be honest, he didn’t want to answer it.

“I just want to be prepared in case they start coming out of the woodwork,” Persephone snapped.

Hades stared up at her from his place at the table. “I won’t apologize for living before you existed.”

“I’m not asking you to, but I’d like to know when I’m about to meet a woman who fucked you.”

He could understand her anger to a point. He would not have liked for these roles to be reversed.

“I was hoping you’d never meet Leuce,” Hades said, though he was realizing now how much of a mistake that was. “She wasn’t supposed to be around this long. I agreed to help her get on her feet in the modern world. Normally, I’d pass the responsibility on to Minthe, but seeing as how she’s indisposed—” He glanced at the ivy on the walls. “It’s taken me longer to find someone suitable to mentor her.”

Persephone halted and stared at him. She seemed even more shocked now than before. “You weren’t planning to tell me about her?”

“I saw no need until now.”

“ No need? ”

Persephone’s magic surged, and Hades could hear the rustle of vines and leaves growing thicker and thicker, blooming with fragrant white flowers, the smell of which choked him.

“You gave this woman a place to stay, you gave her a job, and you used to fuck her—”

“Stop saying that!” Hades bit out. He obviously did not think about that as much as she did.

“I deserved to know about her, Hades!”

“Do you doubt my loyalty?”

“You’re supposed to say you’re sorry .”

“ You’re supposed to trust me.”

“And you’re supposed to communicate with me.”

Hades did not know what to say, though now he wondered if he could have prevented this if he’d just been honest about the nymph’s return. Instead, he’d gotten exactly what he feared—Persephone’s disdain.

Guilt and dread twisted uneasily in his stomach.

She took a breath, then she asked in a quiet, sad voice, “Do you still love her?”

“No, Persephone.”

He hated that the question had even been asked. Even if she were questioning whether she knew him, how could she think he still loved Leuce? After he’d told her—shown her—how much he loved her?

He rose from his chair and came around the table, taking her face between his hands and threading one of his hands into her hair. At least she let him touch her. “I hoped to keep all this from you,” he murmured. “Not to protect Leuce but to protect you from my past.”

“I don’t want to be protected from you,” she said. “I want to know you—all of you, from the inside out.”

He smirked, brushing her lips with his thumb. “Let’s start with the inside,” he said and kissed her.

He hoped kissing her would ease her worry and anger, and maybe she would let go of her magic before she suffocated him with the smell of sickly-sweet flora. For a moment, it worked. Her hands twisted into his shirt, and she pulled him closer as he gripped her harder, but then her palms flattened against his chest and she pushed away, ending the kiss.

“Hades, I’m serious. I want to know your greatest weakness, your deepest fear, your most treasured possession.”

How could she not know the answer?

“You.” His voice was low and rough.

“Me?” she said and shook her head. “I cannot be all those things.”

“You are my weakness, losing you is my greatest fear, and your love is my most treasured possession.”

“Hades,” she said, averting her eyes, as if searching for words. “I am a second in your vast life. How can I be all those things?”

“You doubt me?”

She touched his face; the warmth of her fingers was a comfort despite all the anxiety this conversation had caused. “No, but I believe you have other weaknesses, fears, and treasures. Your people, for one. Your realm, for another.”

“See,” he said, a smile threatening his lips. “You know me already—inside and out.”

He leaned in to kiss her once more, but she stopped him. Hades held her so tightly, he could feel her back arch as she drew back.

“I just have one more question,” she said, and his heart fell. “When you left Sunday night, where did you go?”

“Persephone—”

This time, when she stepped back, he released her.

“That’s when she returned, wasn’t it?”

As angry as she appeared, she could not hide the hurt that flashed in her bright eyes. It made Hades sick, made him want to heal her somehow, but how did one heal this kind of pain? Especially when it was of his own making.

“You chose her over me.”

He stepped toward her. “It isn’t like that at all, Persephone—”

“ Don’t touch me!”

He hated those words—hated that he was the reason they were being said at all, hated that they hurt too.

“You had your chance,” she said. “You fucked it up. Actions speak louder than words, Hades.”

She vanished before she could see him flinch.

Those were his words. He’d used them with her not so long ago.

Action, Lady Persephone. Action holds weight for me .

She was right.

He had fucked up.