Chapter 29

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

H ades

The red river Phlegethon boils as it rolls over the black rock of its bone bed, the magma infused with Uranus' blood as it spits bullets of fire into the souls that dare try to escape the pits of Tartarus before I've decided to release them of their damnation.

In the years following Persephone's murder, the river had thinned, the bullets it spits far less frequent than they once were.

But never had the bullets stopped. Never had the river failed to spit the rock that would cool into the ash I use for my painted prisons .

I turn to Hecate. "Looks like it's spitting rock just fine."

Hecate lifts one pale shoulder, the translucent black lace that hangs from bony limbs catching in the hot breeze that is unending when one stands so close to the border of Tartarus. She drawls, "My mistake."

"Your mistake?" I repeat. I'm sure I did not hear her right. Hecate doesn't make mistakes. Her finger is on the pulse of everything within this realm, apart from the roots of Mount Olympus that stretch into the Underworld, the stony roots spreading like disease with every passing millennium.

"Oops."

Now I know I didn't hear her right. Hecate doesn't make mistakes, but she doesn't say words like oops .

I straighten my shoulders, inhaling hot air through my nose. "What's going on?"

Black lace whirls around her, caught in a wind of her own making. She enjoys standing in the heart of chaos, watchful, but never really involved.

It's interesting, considering she has her enchanted finger in all the pots.

Finally, the wind dies down and black lace falls against her pale body. "There is much going on, Hades."

Here we go. "Why don't you tell me, Hecate, why I'm here then."

"You have had her for nearly a month."

My jaw tightens. "You told me the river Phlegethon was no longer spitting ash so that you could look me in the eye when you told me how long I've had my mate for?"

"Why is she still up there, Hades?"

I feel my teeth grind behind my jaw in response to her cool impatience. "It is not your place to question me, Hecate."

"Have you forgotten who helped you to carry this realm when she was stolen from us?"

"Me!" I roar. Sucking in hot breath that smells like scorched souls, I say quieter, "She was stolen from me ."

"You know that's not true."

"Hecate," I warn.

She ignores it, as she is prone to do. "I have wasted away, Hades. Look at me ." My eyes slide over her body, once lush with curves and full of color. Now, her flesh clings to her black bones, so pale and leeched of color, I am just able to see the black of her skeleton through the thin skin that covers it. With the lace that covers her from head to foot, including the veil over her face and the mane of long black hair down her back, she is like a mirage. A wraith.

Hecate continues, "I have given pieces of my very soul to keep this realm from total collapse. Evil claws at the binds of Tartarus, threatening to devour the unaware in the Elysian Fields. They will torment the souls of Asphodel City and Meadows, Hades, and what are you doing up there with her? Our Queen? She is the life force of this entire realm, Hades. We can't survive much longer— I can't survive much longer like this, bearing this weight. I am little more than bones and still I find the strength to enchant your canvasses."

"You know it is necessary."

Hecate's lip curls under the lace. "Bring her home ."

I never imagined doing the right thing, giving Persephone the freedom to choose me and the Underworld, would come with such dire implications.

"I will not force her."

Hecate's black eyes shine behind the lace with enchanted smoke and danger. "I will not enchant another canvas until she is here."

"You would let the Titans free?"

Hecate shrugs her pale, thin shoulder. "Tartarus is on the brink of ruin. You have a much bigger problem than the Titans simply running amuck if Persephone is not. Brought. Home." She steps into me, her skeletal chest heaving against mine as her voice lowers, the lilt deadly. "We all know you are King of the Underworld, Hades. But she is the Queen. Before her, there was darkness. Before her, you were the King of Death. The God of Death. After her, you became the God of After life . She created this realm, Hades. She birthed life here. It was from the love she had for you, the love she nurtured deep within her core that she brought life into the Underworld. It was from her womb that life sprung from the depths of this darkness, and stars burst in the everlasting obsidian of our unending night."

Her finger points to the glittering sky that has been bright with new stars since Persephone's return to Greece—as though the stars of the realm high above the land of the Underworld can sense her nearness, and feast off the power within her nurturing womb. The thing within her that gives life to the realm of Death.

"This realm is her child, and we know what happens when infants are left without their mothers, Hades."

"They die."

Through the lace, Hecate's breath is a cool wash of darkness against my face. I clench my teeth against a shiver as she whispers, "The Underworld is dying."

And if the Underworld dies—all of the world dies.