Chapter 29

29

Persephone sat in the beautiful box, looking down on the polished wood floor of the stage, waiting for Orpheus’s New Olympus debut.

She glanced over at the empty box seat beside her. For a second, she wished Hades were here with her to see the entire show. But then she shook her head at herself.

It’s better this way. Hades might eventually show, but this was not a date. They weren’t that kind of couple and Persephone needed every reminder she could get if she was going to get over her ridiculous infatuation with her own husband.

She was distracted from her thoughts as Orpheus came on stage. The crowd immediately started going insane.

Security strained to hold them back from the stage. Orpheus had only just walked out, but already the front of the stage had a mound of roses and lacy underthings.

Orpheus sat on the stool provided, much like his posture backstage. He leaned forward towards the mic. The stage went dark except for a single spotlight shining down over his head.

“This is for Eurydice,” he said in his raspy voice, and the fans started crying out in ecstasy. Persephone watched one faint, falling against a security guard who struggled to keep a barrier between the pressing fans and the stage.

Then Orpheus started playing.

And Persephone forgot about everything. The concert hall, her complicated relationship with Hades, even the intermittent cries of fans.

The music.

His voice.

It was haunting, full of such longing and…love.

He held nothing back. He ripped himself open, right there on the stage for all to see and share. But no, it wasn’t for everyone. He didn’t look out over the crowd like normal singers did.

It was for her. Eurydice. Every time he looked up, his eyes focused only on one place, and Persephone knew it must be where Eurydice was sitting.

When he sang about stars in her hair and how she was melody made flesh and how Cupid’s arrow had pierced his blood and bones?—

Persephone held herself still even as tears poured down her cheeks. Her body was alive with goosebumps but it was so much more than that. His music transported. It was ecstatic. Transcendent. Soul-shattering.

And it didn’t stop until the last guitar chord was struck.

Persephone inhaled on a sob, her fingers clenched on the railing, the echo of his voice still ringing through the club.

And then reality crashed down.

The fans, mostly women, were screaming their pleasure. The noise was painful, piercing, and yet Persephone still couldn’t hear anything but Orpheus’s last song ringing in her ears.

And if you die before I wake,

I’ll give my soul; it’s theirs to take,

I’ll come up to the river gates,

I’ll come and sing the gods to sleep,

And steal you home for keeps.

Forever mine.

Forever love.

Forever.

Persephone sat back with a sigh, feeling as tense and coiled as a guitar string. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand if she tried.

Orpheus didn’t move from his spot in the center of the stage. He looked perfectly ordinary again.

Until he began playing the encore. Then he transformed again somehow. It was as if his voice transported around the place, making him seem larger than the simply dressed man standing before them.

His voice promised things and caressed the words of the songs. With every passing minute the energy in the room grew higher and higher, until the aching need was a tension no one could ignore.

He finished up another song and the women went mad again. Persephone watched one of them start to climb and claw at a security guard, desperate to get on stage.

“I love you,” she was screaming. “Please, I need you.”

Disturbed, Persephone stood up. Her heartbeat was racing. She excused herself past the few of Hades’s associates who shared the box. If they thought anything of her tear-stained face and ruined make-up, they were wise enough not to stare. Her bodyguards were parked in the back, also mesmerized by the song. She slipped past them into the hall.

In the bathroom, Persephone breathed deeply, finally letting herself sob outright. The music ran like a current through her and she thought again of how Orpheus and Eurydice had looked at one another backstage.

His music was love personified. Every chord he played, every word he sang…

Why couldn’t Hades love her back?

Love her even a tenth of that?

Again she lost her breath because she couldn’t believe she’d just admitted it, even in the quiet of her mind. Oh gods, but it was all she wanted.

Still. Still, all she wanted was for Hades to love her back.

He could drape her in all the diamonds from all the world and give her power and freedom and position and a million spa trips—none of it mattered. None of it was what she truly wanted.

All she wanted was the simplest gift. But it was the one that Hades would never give.

His love.

“Stupid girl,” Persephone said to her reflection, shuddering with emotion. She hadn’t learned a damned thing in all this time.

Hades used her. Maybe he was nicer to her now than he’d first intended or envisioned. And after saving his life, maybe he felt a little bit indebted to her. But she was still just another cog in the machine of his business. A pretty face for the press.

Only in the privacy of their penthouse did she even get a glimpse of the man behind the mask but she was probably just deluding herself about that, too. What she pretended to herself was intimacy was likely him just using her to meet another of his needs.

He used to fuck that horrible Lucinda woman on the regular, but now Persephone was more convenient. She was already always around, so he fucked her instead. But gods, she didn’t even know if he was faithful. They’d never made any promises of the sort to one another. And the way he always kept her apart from himself…

He never let her in and he never intended to.

She dropped her head in defeat and for once, allowed the grief in. It was like a death, finally abandoning her hope of ever being loved back.

Long minutes later, she shook her head and looked up at her face in the mirror. Ugh, she was a mess. She couldn’t let anybody see her like this. It felt more important than ever to learn the game of pretending to be fine even though nothing was.

She began the arduous process of using endless scraps of tissue to clean up her mascara and was just finishing up when?—

One of the stall doors banged open.

What the—? Persephone jumped. She hadn’t realized there was anyone else in the bathroom. Had they been in the stall the whole time she’d been having her meltdown?

“Hello?” Persephone called out, stepping around the corner.

A figure was slumped on the floor just inside the furthest stall.

Persephone gasped and ran forward. “Are you okay?”

When there wasn’t any response, she moved the door slightly so she could see.

Inside the stall, half sprawled in front of the toilet seat, was a woman. Her dress was black and red, and her long, wicked looking nails were painted to match. It was Ashley, Ajax’s girl from earlier.

“Oh my—” Persephone whispered.

Feeling sick, Persephone kneeled down to look at the woman’s face. Under the mess of hair, the muscles were slack. Her eyes were open, staring, glazed. She wasn’t moving.

Someone in the hall knocked sharply on the door and Persephone jumped. Suddenly every detail seemed sharper, clearer. She saw the needle lying on the floor beside the woman’s arm.

“Everything ok in there?”

“Charon,” Persephone cried out, recognizing the voice. “Help…please.”

Seconds later the underboss barged through the door. Persephone still crouched, frozen, next to the stall door.

“She’s not moving,” Persephone whimpered. She backed away as the big man approached.

Charon peered inside the stall and uttered one sharp curse. “Did you touch her?”

“No.” Persephone couldn’t stop staring at Ashley’s face. The vacant eyes seemed to follow her, accusing.

Then Charon stepped in front of Persephone, blocking her view. “We need to go.” He rumbled and took her arm. His large body pressed forward, herding her bodily toward the door.

“Wait— What about her—? Is she?—?”

“She’s dead,” Charon growled and guided Persephone firmly out of the bathroom and down the hall. Persephone stumbled a little on shaky heels and Charon almost picked her up, righting her while still moving. “And you can’t be seen in there.”

A crackle came over Charon’s earpiece and Persephone knew he was no longer listening to her. “I’ve got Mrs. Ubeli. South bathrooms. Yes, sir. Right away.”

“What?” she asked. What else could possibly go wrong tonight?

“The fans rushed the stage and the green room. Orpheus barely made it out. I’ve got to get you out of here, now.”