A Touch of Chaos (Hades x Persephone Saga, #4)

by Scarlett St. Clair

She had no idea what would happen to the dead when faced with a threat in their realm, but she did not wish to find out.

“Looks like you’re in a pickle, Sephy.” She looked to her left where Hermes had manifested in all his golden glory, still dressed in armor from their encounter with the Olympians. She had lost track of him on the battlefield, but he had been one of the first to stand with her and against Zeus—he and Apollo. The familiar scent of earthy laurel drew Persephone’s attention, and she turned to see the God of Music on her right. He looked stoic and calm and offered a small smile. “Hey, Seph,” he said. She smiled back. “Hey, Apollo.” “Rude,” said Hermes. “I didn’t get a greeting.” “Hi, Hermes,” she said, looking back at him. He scoffed. “It doesn’t mean anything if I have to point it out.” She grinned and burst into tears at the same time, overwhelmed with gratitude by their presence. “Don’t cry, Sephy,” said Hermes. “It was just a joke.” “She isn’t crying over your stupid joke,” Apollo snapped. “Oh? And you know her so well?” “He isn’t wrong, Hermes,” Persephone said, wiping at her eyes quickly. “I’m just…really glad you are both here.”

“We have to get them back into Tartarus,” Persephone said. “We’ll work on that,” said Hermes. “You worry about that massive hole in the sky.” They must have sensed her doubt because Apollo added, “You’ve got this, Seph. You are Queen of the Underworld.” “The one and only,” said Hermes. “That we know of.” Persephone and Apollo glared. “It’s just a joke,” Hermes whined. Apollo sighed and took a few steps forward. His bow materialized in his hand, his quiver on his back. “Let’s go, Hermes.” The God of Mischief took a step and then twisted to face Persephone. “If it helps at all,” he said, “there is no one else.” She knew what he meant. No one else could trap the Titans or contain the monsters in Tartarus. No one else could mend the broken sky. That was power granted to the King and Queen of the Underworld. It was either Hades or it was her, and Hades was not here.

Persephone took a breath and closed her eyes. As she did, she felt the world around her go quiet. Nothing seeped into her space save her anger, her pain, her worry. Her ears rang with it, her heart pumped with it, and she used it to draw on the darker part of her magic. It was the part of her that ached, the part of her that raged, the part of her that no longer believed the world was wholly good. “You are my wife and my queen.” Hades’s voice echoed in her mind. It sent chills down her spine and cradled her heart. The sound brought tears to her eyes and made her chest feel tight, stealing the air from her lungs. “You are everything that makes me good,” he said. “And I am everything that makes you terrible.” She swallowed the thickness that had gathered in her throat. Before, she would have balked at those words, but now she understood the power in being feared. And she wanted to be dreaded. “Where are you?” she asked, desperate for him to manifest at her side where he belonged, but the longer she remained alone, the darker her energy became. “Waiting to carry you through the dark if you will bring me to the light.” Her heart felt so heavy, a weight in her chest. “I need you,” she whispered. “You have me,” he said. “There is no part where you end or I begin. Use me, darling, as you have for your pleasure. There is power in this pain.” And there was pain.

Her gaze shifted to the horizon and the strange tower that now connected the mountains of Tartarus to the sky. She had no idea how she’d created it, but she knew what had fed her magic. She could still feel those emotions echoing inside her. “I like it,” said Hermes. “It’s art. We’ll call it…Iapetus’s reckoning.” Persephone thought it looked more like a scar, a blight on Hades’s kingdom, but perhaps he would fix it when he came home.

“Come on, Hades,” said Theseus. “We both know I do not make rash decisions. I have thought about this for a while.” “And what exactly did you think? That you would release my father from Tartarus and he would be so indebted to you that he would join your cause?” “I am under no such delusion,” said Theseus. “But I will use him as I imagine he will use me.” “Use you?” Hades asked. “And what do you have to offer?” Theseus grinned. It was an unsettling smile because it was so genuine. “To start,” he said, “I have you.” Hades stared for a moment. “So you will what? Give me as a sacrifice?” “Well, yes,” Theseus said. “Cronos will need offerings to feed his power and strength. Who better than his son and a usurper too?” “Your father was a usurper. Will you sacrifice him?” “If the occasion calls for it,” Theseus said. Hades was not surprised by the demigod’s answer. His honesty was also likely an indication of his belief that Hades would never leave this prison. “What happens when you both decide the other must die?” he asked. “I suppose it is good then that I am fated to overthrow the gods,” said Theseus.

Theseus sheathed the bloody knife and then picked up the Helm of Darkness before reaching into his pocket to withdraw something small and silver. Hades’s heart squeezed at the sight of it. “This is a beautiful ring,” Theseus said, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, twisting it so that even beneath the dim light, the gems glittered. Hades watched it, his stomach knotting with each movement. “Who would have guessed it would be your downfall?” Theseus was wrong. That ring was Hades’s hope even if he could not hold it, even if it was in the hand of his enemy. “Persephone will come,” he said, certain. His voice was quiet, his eyes heavy. “I know,” Theseus said, his fingers closing over the ring. He spoke with a dreadful glee that made Hades sick, though perhaps he was only feeling the weight of the net and his wound. “She will be your ruin,” Hades said to the demigod, his chest tightening with the truth of those words. “You would burn this world for me? I will destroy it for you,” she had said right before she had torn his realm apart in the name of a love she thought she had lost. Theseus considered their love a weakness, but he would soon discover how wrong he was.

She rose to her feet and then turned to face the god who had become one of her closest friends. “Find my husband, Hermes. Do whatever you must.” He studied her for a moment, his beautiful face somehow soft and severe at the same time. “Do you know what you are asking, Sephy?” She took a step closer, holding his golden gaze. “I want blood, Hermes. I will fill rivers with it until he is found.” Theseus would soon discover that he had flown too close to the sun. Hermes grinned. “I like vengeful Sephy,” he said. “She’s scary.”

“Is it wrong to feel angry that they will not know what horror we lived through last night?” “No,” said Hermes. “But I do not think that is what makes you angry right now.” She turned her head to the side, but he was still a step or two behind her. “What do you know about my anger?” “You do not like when beliefs are fueled by falsehoods. You see it as an injustice,” he said. He was not wrong.

“They think I lied,” she said. Right before everything had taken a turn for the worst—before Sybil had gone missing and the avalanche and ensuing battle, before Theseus had traded in his favor for her compliance—Helen had decided to reveal the secret of Persephone’s divinity and accused her of deceiving New Greece. Her timing, in many ways, had been impeccable. She had known that the world had come to admire and admonish Persephone, both for writing controversial articles about the gods but also for capturing the attention of the notoriously reclusive God of the Dead. In some ways, she’d endeared herself to a mortal public that could see themselves in her. Now they likely felt betrayed. “Then tell the truth,” Hermes said. She lifted her head, watching the God of Mischief in the reflection of the window. “Will that be enough?” “It will have to be,” he said. “It is all you can give.” It felt so silly, to worry over what people thought after everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, but to mortals, the world was still recognizable. They would demand answers to the accusations Helen had leveled, ignorant of Persephone’s agony, of Hades’s absence, of Theseus’s terrorism.

“She isn’t healing,” Sybil said after a beat of silence. Persephone’s head whipped to the side. “What do you mean?” “Hecate said whatever she was stabbed with is preventing her from healing. When I asked her why, she said she didn’t know.”

“I’m so sorry, Sybil.” “You have nothing to apologize for, Persephone,” Sybil said. “It’s hard to know what evil exists in the world until it finds you.”

Dread pooled in Persephone’s chest as she made her way to Hades’s office. There was a part of her that hoped she would find him waiting, sitting behind his desk or standing near the fire, but when she opened the door, she found her friends—Hermes and Ilias, Charon and Thanatos, and Apollo and Hecate. As much as she loved them, they were not Hades. “Tell me of those who escaped,” she said, the dread in her chest thickening. There was a moment of heavy silence. “There were few, my lady,” said Thanatos. “But among them, Cronos.” Cronos was the God of Time, but specifically he had influence over its destructive nature. She did not know what that meant for the world above, but she would worry about that later. Right now, they had to make plans for present threats. “And the others?” she asked. She noted how Thanatos seemed to hesitate as he answered. “The others are my brother and Prometheus.”

“Theseus has my ring,” Persephone said. “Can you track it?” “I will try,” Hecate said. Do more than try, Persephone wanted to say, but she knew Hecate was just being cautious. The goddess did not want to overpromise given that she already could not sense Hades’s magic. Persephone looked at the others. “In the meantime, I want Theseus’s men,” she said. “I’ll torture my way through them until one of them tells us where Hades is.” “We’re on it, Seph,” said Apollo. “We will bring him home, my lady,” said Ilias. She swallowed hard, her eyes watering. “Promise me,” she said, her voice trembling. “Hades is my king and you are my queen,” said Ilias. “I will go to the ends of the earth to bring him home for you…for all of us.” “Just one question,” Hermes said as he drew his blade, a menacing expression on his face. “Do you want them dead or alive?” “Let them choose their fate,” she said. “Either way, they come to me.” Those words trickled down her spine. They were similar to ones Hades had spoken to her the night they’d met. Darling, I win either way. This time, she shivered. Hermes grinned. “You got it, Queen.”

“Hecate,” she whispered, her throat full of an emotion she had not anticipated. “Why are we in Elysium?” She asked and yet she knew. “There are some traumas a soul cannot live with,” Hecate said. “Even in death, even as a god.”

“Zofie?” The woman looked up from her work and turned to face Persephone, who could not contain her tears. She had watched the Amazon die, taking a blade to the chest. She’d screamed so loud, even now she could hear the ring of it in her ears. It had all happened so quickly. “My lady,” Zofie said, a smile spreading across her face. She bowed so low, she nearly touched the ground. “Zofie,” Persephone said again and crossed the short distance toward her, hugging her close as she straightened. “Zofie, I am so sorry.” The Amazon held her shoulders as she pulled away. “Do not apologize, my queen. You have given me honor in death.” Honor. It was the thing she’d sought as Persephone’s aegis, though she still did not know what had caused the Amazon such shame among her people. In the end, though, it did not matter because Zofie had found peace in the way she needed.

“And now what do you see?” Persephone asked. “I do not have a divine channel.” “Does that mean you do not have visions?” “I cannot ensure accuracy without a divine channel,” said Sybil. “Would you like one?” There was silence. Persephone looked back at Sybil, who was stunned. “I don’t know if I will ever have temples built in my name or worshippers who seek my wisdom, but I must go to war with Helen and Theseus in the media, and I need someone I trust on my side.” Persephone had yet to seek any news, yet to see what the world was saying about her—the goddess who had masqueraded as a mortal—but she knew Hermes was right. All she could do was tell the truth, and that would start with Sybil. “Persephone,” Sybil whispered. The goddess could not place the sound of the oracle’s voice or the expression on her face. Would she say no? She had seemed to lose interest in the position entirely after her experience with Apollo. Sybil took Persephone’s hands in hers, squeezing. “It would be an honor to be your oracle.”

“It is curious that death would choose life as a bride,” Hippolyta said. “It is like the sun falling in love with the moon.” “One cannot exist without the other,” Persephone said. “Just as honor cannot exist without shame.” The queen gave a wry smile, and there was a tension at Persephone’s back that she knew came from Hecate at her slight. “True, Queen Persephone,” Hippolyta said. “Though I suppose it is not about one or the other but what comes in between.”

They continued down the path in silence when Hermes gave out a sudden, high-pitched scream. Swiftly, they were surrounded by Amazons, their weapons drawn. Persephone and Hippolyta whirled toward the god only to find his hands balled up beneath his chin and one leg off the ground. Hecate and Ilias stared too. It seemed to take Hermes a moment to realize what he had done, and he offered a sheepish, shy grin. “There was a bug,” he explained. “A big one.” A few of the Amazons snickered. Hermes glowered and looked at Hecate and Ilias. “Tell me you saw it.” Both of them shook their heads in quiet amusement. Hippolyta rolled her eyes. “Men,” she scoffed as she turned her back on the God of Trickery. Persephone raised a brow at Hermes, who mouthed it was huge before swatting at another invisible bug.

“You mourn so deeply, Lady Persephone,” Queen Hippolyta said. “Have you not welcomed Zofie into the Underworld?” “I have,” Persephone said with a small smile, recalling her first sighting of the aegis. “But does the promise of seeing anyone again ever ease grief?”

“Lord Hades promised to return Zofie once she brought honor to us,” said Hippolyta. “In exchange, I agreed to lend him my belt.” Persephone’s brows rose in surprise. Hades had never told her how he’d met Zofie, and now she wondered why he’d asked for the belt, though it was not unusual for him to collect weapons or relics. The Amazon queen extended her hands, the belt held flat between her palms. “This is the Girdle of Hippolyta, a gift from my father, Ares, a symbol of my rule over the Amazons. Any mortal who wears it will be granted immortal strength.” Persephone gazed at the belt and then at Hippolyta and shook her head. “I cannot take it,” she said. She did not understand the deal Hades had made with the queen, but it seemed wrong to accept such an item without him. “You must,” Hippolyta said. “It is not a gift. It is a symbol of the promise I made, and I do not break promises.”

“Do not stop your tears, my dear,” she said. “Let them give life.” At first, Persephone did not understand, but then she felt something brush the hem of her gown, and when she looked, there were flowers at her feet, the petals so white they glowed like moonstones. She smiled despite her sadness as the blooming bed continued to spread, and when Hippolyta noticed, she turned toward Persephone. “I suppose what you said is true. Death gives birth to life.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “What will you birth, Persephone?” “Rage,” she answered without a second thought.

“Someone is out there killing gods,” said Hermes. “And you wish to ignore that in favor of pursuing a goddess who has done no harm.” The God of Thieves stood before his own throne, his exuberant joy suffocated beneath his anger. “If gods are dying, they have only their weaknesses to blame,” said Zeus. “I will not count myself among them, which is why my brother’s lover must be eliminated.” “Her name is Persephone,” said Apollo, who also stood, his arms crossed over his chest. “Or do you fear saying it like you fear her power?” Zeus’s eyes flashed bright like a strike of lightning on a dark horizon. “I do not fear her,” he hissed. “But I will not be dethroned.” “She did not try to overthrow you,” Apollo snapped. “She restored Thebes, and you brought war against her.” “And when the time came to choose a side, you opposed me. That is the same thing.”

“Why do you defend her?” asked Artemis. The goddess was one of a few who sat on her throne, her hands curled around the arms of her chair as if at any moment, she might launch herself from it and attack. “What has she done for you?” Apollo glared at his sister as he answered, “She is my friend.” Artemis scoffed. “You are a god. Mortals are dying to be in your presence. They will be your friends.” “It is not the same,” he said. “But you would not know that because you have no friends.” Artemis glared at Apollo and then looked at Zeus. “I will hunt her, Father.” “You will do no such thing.” It was Aphrodite who spoke this time. “You would defend her too, my child?” Zeus asked. Unlike the anger he showed Hermes and Apollo, toward her, he was hurt. “She took a spear for her,” said Poseidon. “Or have you forgotten the way Hephaestus screamed for her?” The God of the Sea chuckled. Aphrodite glared at her uncle before her gaze slid back to Zeus. “It is not Persephone or Hades who are dangerous, Father,” she said. “It is their love. Tear them apart, and they will tear you apart.” Artemis scoffed and rolled her eyes. “The prophecy has made the danger of their love very clear, Aphrodite,” said Hera. It was the first time the Goddess of Marriage had spoken. “Together or apart, they are a continuous threat.”

“How many times must we pick apart a prophecy when we all know there is no avoiding Fate?” asked Athena. “Are those supposed to be wise words?” Hera asked. Athena narrowed her eyes and lifted her proud chin. “You should not even be allowed a voice here,” said Ares. “You and Hestia abandoned us on the battlefield. Cowards!” “Do not pretend you participated in battle out of loyalty,” Athena shot back. “You only wished to satisfy your bloodlust.” Ares pushed off his throne and took up his spear, but Aphrodite stepped in front of him, and the anger that had overtaken him seemed to vanish. “Is she wrong, Ares?” Aphrodite asked. Ares’s jaw tightened, and his knuckles turned white around his spear, but he did not move to strike or whatever he had intended to do when he rose against Athena. Instead, he took a step back and returned to his throne. Zeus looked at Athena and then at the gods who had opposed him. “I have escaped Fate more times than I can count,” he said. “I can assure you the last thing that will bring me to my knees is a pair of star-crossed lovers.” “You have prolonged Fate,” said Athena. “There is a difference. Why do you think the same prophecy haunts you?” “Worse things have haunted me, Daughter,” said Zeus. “But in this moment, nothing more than your words.” A heavy silence followed as Zeus assessed the gods. “Those who stood against me on the battlefield will suffer my wrath. Apollo, Hermes, Aphrodite—you are hereby stripped of your powers.” “Father—” Aphrodit...

“If Hephaestus goes without punishment, then you must take his year.” Aphrodite swallowed but did not hesitate. “Fine.” Hermes grimaced, shaking his head. “So be it,” said Zeus, a grave edge to his tone. “You shall live two years as a mortal. Enjoy watching your fellow Olympians pursue your beloved friend while you are helpless to defend her.” “And are you prepared to face Hades’s wrath?” Hermes asked. The corner of Theseus’s mouth lifted. Hermes’s question was akin to a scare tactic. He knew Hades was missing and that no one could protect Persephone from what was coming for her. “The question you should be asking,” said Zeus, “is whether Hades is prepared for mine.”

“Partake of this apple,” she said, “and it will take your immortality.” “That is a heavy price,” Theseus said. “An equal price,” said Hera. He knew which had more value in the present given how close they were to battle. He would worry about deification later, when the war was won and he sat on the highest throne, exalted as the one true god of the world. “What will it be, Theseus?” she asked, extending her hand farther. He took the apple, and as he brought it to his lips, she spoke. “You may only eat from this tree once.” It was a warning that he could not return and make the exchange again. Theseus took a bite.

“Are you ready to make your sacrifice?” She raised an angry brow. “And what sacrifice is that?” “The one where you fuck your husband for the greater good.” Her eyes darkened. “Do not pretend our sacrifices are the same,” said Hera. “Yours only saved yourself.” Theseus smirked. “Are you suggesting sex will save the world then, Hera?” She glared and spoke between clenched teeth. “Do your part, Theseus, so my sacrifice is not made in vain.” Her eyes dropped to the apple. “You had better finish that,” she said. “You wouldn’t want to find out what happens if you waste a drop. Now, leave.” “At once, Your Majesty,” he mocked and then vanished.

“You look beautiful,” she said. Persephone smoothed a hand down her stomach and glanced at her dress. “I do not feel like myself.” “Perhaps it is because Hades is not here with you,” Aphrodite said. Persephone swallowed hard, and fear moved up her spine. What would the other gods do when they discovered Hades had been captured by Theseus? “How did you know?” “Hermes told me,” Aphrodite said and then hesitated. “Zeus held Council today and stripped us of our powers for helping you in battle.” “What?” Persephone asked. A sudden cold numbed her entire body. “I managed to ensure Hephaestus retained his power,” Aphrodite continued, glancing back at her husband, whose fiery gaze was locked on her. Persephone could not tell if he felt gratitude or frustration, but now she understood why he had come. He’d had to use his magic to bring Aphrodite to the Underworld. “We will have weapons for the coming war at least.” When they had stood opposite Zeus outside Thebes, Persephone had not thought twice about what would happen in the aftermath of battle. She had just been grateful to have allies. Now all she felt was guilt. “Do not mourn for us,” Aphrodite said. “It was our decision to fight for you.” Persephone shook her head. “How could he?” “There are few instances where Zeus will illustrate his full power,” said Aphrodite. “One is when he feels his throne is threatened.”

“If she keeps me from Hades, I will show no mercy.” “I will not fault you,” said Aphrodite. “Though you should know that Apollo does love his sister.” “Then I will give him fair warning,” Persephone said. She paused, swallowing hard, and when she looked at Aphrodite again, her eyes were misty with tears. “I have to find him, Aphrodite.” The goddess offered a small smile and then placed her hand on Persephone’s shoulder. “There are few things that survive war, Persephone,” she said. “Let your love be one of them.”

“Good afternoon,” she said, speaking too close to the mic, amplifying the pop and crackle of her voice, but the resulting feedback silenced the crowd with a deafening hiss. She was quiet for a moment, adjusting her stance before she continued. “By now, most of you have probably seen the article printed about me in New Athens News by a former colleague.” She did not wish to speak Helen’s name, though Persephone knew her statement would only draw more attention to her ex-friend. She could only hope what she had to say would cast doubt on her credibility. “First, I would like to say that it is true that I hid who I was from you.” Persephone’s voice quivered as she spoke, and she paused to take a breath, saying her next line with far more composure and confidence. “I am the Goddess of Spring.” There were cheers and some applause but there were also boos and angry chants—Deceiver! Liar! She ignored them and continued. “I am sure many of you were surprised to discover that Demeter had a daughter, but my mother was reluctant to share me with the world. She kept me locked in a glass house, depriving me of friends and worshippers. At eighteen, I convinced her to let me go to college. I’m still not sure why she agreed, except that I think she was comforted by the fact that I was powerless—and powerless I was. I could not even coax a flower to bloom. How could I be a goddess when I had none of the attributes that were supposed to make me divine? So when I entered the mortal world for...

He recited poetry and then composed his own, attempting to convey Persephone’s beauty, if only to cling to his own sanity. “Her golden hair swept down upon him like rays of burning sun,” he started and then paused. “That’s fucking stupid. Besides, I hate Helios.” He tried again. “She emerged from the dark, a sweet-voiced thing with hair that flowed like a river in spring.” That was worse. He moved on to singing. “Is that… ‘Laurel’ by Apollo?” he heard Hermes ask. Hades glared at the god who appeared beside him as a small, chubby baby with white wings that fluttered like those of a hummingbird. “I will murder you if you tell anyone what you have heard here.” “That is very aggressive, Daddy Death,” said Hermes. “Everyone listens to Apollo. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. He’s a vibe.” Hades decided not to ask what a vibe was. “Why do you look like that?” he asked. “Like what?” Hermes looked down at himself. “Like a cherub, Hermes.” The god shrugged. “Perhaps you should ask yourself that question. You’re the one hallucinating.” “Trust me, I would never manifest Hermes as a child. He’s annoying enough as an adult.” “Rude,” Hermes said, and then he grew taller, and his feet touched the ground. He spun and faced Hades as he walked backward down the corridor. “You know, Hades, what you need is—” “I need out of this fucking maze,” Hades said. “I was going to say fun,” said the god. They were coming to another break in the wall, and with Hermes walking backward, Hades thought he ...

“I have considered castration, but I think you’d find that too pleasant,” said Hades. The god pursed his lips and then shrugged. “Fair.” “I had to nix anything that requires restraint too.” “Unfair,” said the god. “I could send you into the Forest of Despair, but it’s likely your greatest fear is a life with only one sexual partner.” “A tragedy,” Hermes said. “Which means I’d take a different approach.” “You really have thought about this,” said Hermes. “First, I’d curse you to always appear homely to any potential lover.” Hermes gasped. “Then, I would ensure you never find your rhythm again. That applies to dancing and sex.” “You wouldn’t,” Hermes said. “The sight of your penis would make everyone gag.” “You beast!” “Those aren’t even my favorites,” said Hades with a smirk. “My favorite is that every television series you start never finishes.” “No!” Hermes bellowed. “It is true what they say. You are a cruel god.” Hades shrugged. “You asked.” “I did,” said Hermes. “I hope it helped.” Hades could hear the grin in his voice, but he didn’t understand. “What?” he asked, looking in the direction of the god, but he found he was no longer there.

Persephone’s eyes burned with tears, and after a moment of quiet, Yuri whispered, her voice quivering, “I just wish everything was normal again.” Persephone hardened against those words. It was such a natural thing to say when things felt uncertain, but the longer she lived with loss, the more the idea of normal angered her. There was no normal. There was only the past, and it was hopeless to wish for it even at her loneliest, because nothing could return to the way it was—not in the aftermath of this. “There is no ‘normal again,’ Yuri,” Persephone said. “There is only new and different, and neither are always good.” The soul frowned. “Persephone, I—” She rose to her feet before Yuri could finish, knowing what her next words would be. I’m so sorry. And she could not stand to hear them either. She could not even explain why, but they were just words, empty ones people said when they had nothing else to give. “Thank you, Yuri, for the tea.” She fled before her emotions got the best of her and teleported to the Asphodel Fields. By the time she arrived, she was already in tears. She looked out on the Underworld from where she stood, her arms crossed over her chest. The wind picked up, whipping her hair, and the asphodel around her swayed, grazing her gown.

“What’s going on?” Persephone asked. “Who is this?” “I’m Robert,” said the man. “He’s Robert,” Apollo and Hermes said. They all spoke in unison. It made Persephone flinch. “And who is Robert?” Persephone asked with more patience than she felt. Hecate had just found Hades, and these two were…well, she wasn’t sure what they were doing. “I’m an architect,” said Robert. “He’s an architect,” Apollo and Hermes said. They sounded bored. Persephone exchanged a look with Hecate, who rolled her eyes before sending a surge of magic in both gods’ directions. Hermes shot up from Hades’s desk and landed on the hard marble floor, a sharp obsidian thorn in the spot where he had once lain. The vodka in Apollo’s glass turned to sand just as he shot it into his mouth. He spat it out quickly, choking on the dirt. “What the fuck?” they said. Hermes climbed to his feet from the floor, and Apollo searched frantically for something wet, settling on an open bottle of wine to gargle. “My husband is missing, and Hecate tells me that he is at Knossos, and instead of taking me to him, she brought me to you,” Persephone said, her voice shaking with anger. “One of you tell me what the fuck is going on.” Hermes and Apollo exchanged a look. “I’m afraid that is why I am here,” said Robert. Persephone’s eyes fell to the mortal. “And what do you have to do with my husband and Knossos?” “I am an architect,” he said. Persephone could not keep a handle on her magic, and she didn’t want to. It flared to life, he...

“Why are you so compliant?” she asked, a little suspicious. “Theseus never asked us what gods we served,” said the man. “I have always been pious, and pious I will always be.” His sincerity rang true. “Thank you, Robert.” He smiled. “Of course, my lady,” he said with a nod. “Er…would anyone be willing to…untie my hands? They’re a little numb.” Persephone turned her gaze to Apollo and Hermes. “Take him home, and one of you…grant him a favor.” Apollo and Hermes exchanged a look and then spoke in unison. “We can’t.” Then Persephone remembered what Aphrodite said—that Zeus had stripped them of their powers. “Well, how did you get him here?” “The old-fashioned way,” said Hermes. “I think you mean the mortal way,” said Apollo. “We abducted him from outside his work,” Hermes explained. “Antoni helped us.” “Did anyone see you?” Persephone asked. “Does it matter?” asked Hermes. “It does if Theseus’s men are watching,” said Persephone. Hermes pursed his lips, and Apollo frowned. “I doubt Theseus would waste his resources on me,” said Robert. “I am one cog in his machine.” “And if one breaks, the whole thing comes down,” Persephone said. “Theseus does not like loose ends.” She looked at Hecate. “What can be done?” She did not wish for the man to suffer for his loyalty to the gods. “I can cast a protection spell,” Hecate said. “Though they are not infallible.” “I am grateful for anything,” said Robert. “I only wish I could’ve helped more.” Persephone met the mortal’s gaze. “You have h...

She had yet to notice him, but as he took a step in her direction, a man handed her a glass of champagne. What the actual fuck? “Ari,” Dionysus said as he approached. He felt almost breathless, but he knew that was his frustration. She was in the middle of taking a drink when she spit it back into the glass, her eyes wide with surprise. Clearly she had not expected him to be here either. “Dionysus,” she said. “Hi.” “What are you doing here?” he asked. “You know Lord Dionysus?” the man beside her asked. Know was an understatement. “Yes,” she said. “Casually.” “Casually,” Dionysus repeated. “Sure.” Her gaze seared his skin. He knew what she was saying without speaking.

“Leander,” she said and offered an apologetic smile. “Would you give us a minute?” He hesitated, glancing at Dionysus. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll, uh, see you in the room?” “Sooner,” she said. He grinned before walking away, and Dionysus glared, unable to suppress the jealousy and anger that shot up his spine. “Really? Sooner?” he asked. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asked between her teeth. “We had an agreement.” “You wanted to go back to work,” he said. “This is work,” she snapped. “Really? Because I happen to know your boss put you on traffic duty.” “Are you stalking me now?” “Never stopped,” he said, though it wasn’t stalking, and she knew it.

“Did you arrive with him?” Her eyes were like fire, and they singed every inch of his skin. “Is this about my job or the men I fuck?” “I thought this was work,” he shot back. “You are such an asshole,” she seethed. She spun and stormed away. He followed, catching up to her. “Ari—” She rounded a corner and turned toward him abruptly. “Don’t call me that!” she snapped. “What? Your name?” “That is a nickname. It denotes familiarity, a privilege I have not given you.” “I fucked you. I’d say we are pretty familiar.” “I gave you access to my body,” she said. “That doesn’t mean we’re close.” Her words stung, and Dionysus tightened his jaw against the terrible things he wanted to say. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected but he’d hoped that when they returned from the island, she’d still want him. It turned out to be the opposite. “Do you regret it?” he asked after a moment, unable to keep the pain from his voice. “We’re not talking about this here,” she said, averting her eyes, glassy with anger. “Now seems as good of a time as any,” he said, because he knew outside this moment, she would continue to avoid him. When she met his gaze, the full force of her fury hit. “Every time you do this, I regret it more and more.” He searched her face desperately for any sign of a lie but found nothing. She was telling the truth. He took a step back, swallowing hard. “Watch your back,” he said. “You aren’t among friends.” “Thanks for the advice,” she said, returning to Leander, who welcomed her w...

“Well, if it isn’t Lord Dionysus,” he said. Dionysus had gone to the mortal at the start of his search for Medusa, but things had escalated quickly when Michail had recognized Ariadne as a cop. She’d ended up killing two of his men. It was just another reason she should not be here. “Michail,” Dionysus said. “You’re looking…recovered.” It was a lie, but it was also the nicest thing he could think to say to a man he loathed. “I’m on the mend,” Michail replied as if talking to an old friend. “If you’ll excuse me,” Dionysus said, attempting to step around Michail, but he was stopped when the mortal stuck out his hand. “You’ll forgive me,” Michail said. “But I don’t think I will.” Dionysus took a step back and then glanced to his left and right. In the time he’d been with Ariadne, the gallery had been cleared of civilians, and the only people who remained were Michail’s men. They surrounded him on all sides. Dionysus held Michail’s gaze. “To what do I owe this honor?” he asked thickly. Michail gave a wicked smile. “I just wanted to have a friendly chat.” “You don’t look particularly pleasant.” “It might have something to do with the nose job you gave me when you slammed my face into the floor.” Dionysus shrugged. “An improvement if you ask me.” “No one did,” Michail said tightly.

“You should have just let me have the detective,” Michail said. “She’s not mine to give.” “It sure didn’t look like that to me,” he said. Dionysus imagined not, given that Michail had walked in while Ariadne was grinding against his cock, but intimacy did not equal possession or ownership. “So you’ve decided to take her?” “I’ve decided to kill her in front of you,” he said. “You think I would let you?” Michail chuckled. “You may be a god, Dionysus, but what power do you possess beyond filling glasses with wine and a sharp pine cone?” Dionysus was used to people questioning his divinity. He was the God of Wine and Revelry. His influence on the world was minimal compared to the Olympians, but these mortals had not been alive during the time of his madness. They did not know what he was capable of when pushed. And this was testing his limits. The edges of his vision were already turning red. “You forgot one,” Dionysus said. “I’m pretty skilled at breaking faces.” “But not skilled enough to realize when you’ve been lured into a trap.” Dionysus had to admit, that stung a little. The truth was he had not thought twice about coming tonight. He’d been to similar auctions many times; he’d taken this one for granted. Still, trapping a god was never a good idea. Trapping Dionysus was worse. “I am impressed,” said Dionysus. There was a tremor to his voice that some might have mistaken for nerves, but it was really anger. Michail’s eyes gleamed with pride. “Thank you.” “Not with you,” ...

“I need this now,” he said. He pulled away enough to meet her gaze even though his vision was hazy. “Yes,” she whispered, breathless. He groaned. “I will not be gentle, Ariadne,” he said. “It’s okay,” she said, and this time, she kissed him. His hands moved to her ass, and as he dragged her up his body, someone cleared their throat. They froze, and when Dionysus turned his head, he realized they were not alone—far from it. His living room was full of people. “Way to go, Hecate,” Hermes said. “They were just getting to the best part.” “What the actual fuck?” Dionysus snarled. His desire turned to fury instantly, his focus solely on Hermes. “Easy now, Dionysus,” said Hermes. “We had no choice.” “No choice?” Dionysus asked, releasing Ariadne and turning to face them completely, his hands fisted. “I will tear you to shreds.” Hecate stepped into his line of sight, blocking him from Hermes. Her eyes were swallowed by darkness. Her energy was like shadows, reaching inside him. He heard her voice in his head. “Be at ease, son of Zeus,” she said. “Hera has no power here.” A cry erupted from his throat as he was freed from the claws of Hera’s madness. He arched his back against the pain. It felt like his chest was being torn in two, and when it was done, he shook with the release. He glared back at Hecate, breathing hard. “If you think that makes me any less violent, you are wrong.” He spoke between clenched teeth. He still wanted to rip Hermes into pieces. This wouldn’t be the firs...

“I will free your sister,” said Dionysus, and Ariadne met her gaze. “If you promise not to stay in that maze.” Ariadne hesitated. He wasn’t sure if it was because she was surprised by his request or if she was frustrated by what his words implied. Finally, she spoke. “I promise.” Her voice was too quiet, too hesitant. It made him think that she did not even trust herself to face the maze, but he supposed they would all find out.

“Did you know she would make a statement?” He spoke against her ear, his body pressed against hers, his cock settling against her ass. “How would I have known?” she snapped. “She’s used to exposing everyone else’s truths, not her own.” He straightened but kept his hand flat on her back. “You should have known,” he said, hiking her skirt up over her perfect, round ass. “You should have already been prepared to deliver your counterattack. That is how this works.” “So you will punish me for not being a fucking oracle?” He pushed her legs apart. “I’m punishing you because I can,” he said as he unbuckled his belt and pants. “Because I want to. Because you make it easy.”

“You should be resting,” said Hecate. “The labyrinth will require strength.” Persephone turned to look at the goddess as she approached, cradling a fluffy black cat. Even in the moonlight, its eyes flashed a vibrant green. “Is that a human, Hecate?” she asked, suspicious, knowing the goddess’s penchant for turning mortals who irritated her into whatever she pleased. “This is a cat,” Hecate said, looking down at the animal. “Her name is Galanthis. I want you to take her into the labyrinth with you.” “Why?” “In case there are mice,” she said.

“I have been thinking about what I want most,” Persephone said. She thought if she could anticipate what the labyrinth would offer, she might more easily say no. The reality was that she hadn’t thought beyond what she wanted in the present, which was to rescue Hades, but she had a feeling the labyrinth would demand more than that. “Have you decided?” Hecate asked. “What if it isn’t a choice?” Persephone asked, looking at the goddess. “Explain,” said Hecate. “What if I’m faced with something I did not know I wanted?” One’s greatest desire seemed like something else entirely, not so much a choice but something formed around what she’d lacked all her life. She felt Hecate’s eyes on her. “What are you afraid it will show you?” the Goddess of Witchcraft asked. Persephone was quiet for a long moment before she spoke, a whispered fear she released into the night. “Everything Hades said he could never give me.” The silence was long and the guilt heavy. “Are you afraid knowing will make you love Hades less?” Hecate asked. “No, of course not,” Persephone said, meeting Hecate’s gaze. “But I am afraid to hurt him.” She couldn’t bear that. She looked away quickly. “I should not have said anything. I don’t even know what I will see.” “I think you know exactly what you will see.” The goddess paused and offered a small smile. “Desires change, Persephone. Tonight, you may want something you do not want tomorrow.” Persephone frowned. She didn’t really wish to entertain her fears, but she ne...

Lexa filled the empty space beside Persephone, and she turned to watch as Lexa pulled her knees to her chest, matching her pose. “Is everything okay?” Persephone asked after they had sat in silence for a few moments. Lexa’s dark brows lowered, and then she rested her head against her knees, angling her face toward Persephone. She still did not meet her gaze. “I think I have made Thanatos mad,” Lexa said. Persephone jerked her head back in surprise, which was probably an overreaction, but that was honestly the last thing she’d expected her to say. “Why would he be mad?” Persephone had only seen Thanatos angry a few times. She was not even sure she would call it angry so much as frustrated, but both times, it had been over Lexa. “Because I kissed him.” “You kissed Thanatos?” Persephone could not help her giddiness. It shot through her, warm and steady, a welcome distraction from the darkness of her thoughts. Despite Persephone’s excitement, Lexa was subdued. Clearly whatever had happened in the aftermath had made her feel uncertain. “I doubt that made him mad,” Persephone said gently. “He told me it shouldn’t have happened,” Lexa said. “Does that sound mad enough?” Persephone hesitated a moment, caught off guard by how much that last sentence sounded like something the old Lexa would say but also frustrated with Thanatos for being one of those idiots. Everyone who was anyone knew he cared for Lexa in a way that was different from other souls. From the day she arrived in the ...

“Start from the beginning.” “I…don’t know how it began,” Lexa said. “Where were you when you kissed?” Persephone asked instead. “We were lying under a tree,” Lexa said. Well, that sounded intimate. “Sometimes we sit together at night, and Thanatos tells me about his day. Usually, conversation is easy, but last night, it wasn’t. I don’t even know why. Nothing happened. I was just frustrated.” “So you kissed him?” Persephone asked. “Yes,” Lexa said. Persephone tried not to smile, because Lexa was taking this so seriously. She wanted to tell her that it was likely she and Thanatos were suffering from sexual frustration, and being in each other’s presence just exasperated it. “And what did he do?” “He kissed me too.” Persephone paused and then leaned forward a little. “How?” “How?” “How did he kiss you? Did he use his tongue?” “Persephone!” “It’s a valid question!” She couldn’t help it; she was grinning. Before her death, Lexa would have demanded the same details from Persephone. That Lexa no longer existed. This one was new to these feelings. “You can tell me.” “He did,” Lexa finally said, bowing her head so her hair curtained her face. “Did you like it?” “Yes, of course,” she said, straightening her legs and then lying back in the grass. “But he must not have.” Persephone twisted her body so she could hold Lexa’s gaze. “I highly doubt that,” she said. “He is just afraid.” “That’s ridiculous. Why would he be afraid?” “I don’t know. Knowing Thanatos, he probably made up some r...

Before long, it was time to leave. Persephone met Hecate in the foyer of the palace. The goddess handed her Galanthis, the black cat she’d instructed her to take into the labyrinth. “Do not worry about her. She will take care of herself and you,” said Hecate. Then she placed her hands on either side of Persephone’s face. They were cold, and she shivered beneath her touch. “Many of us have relied on magic too long to try solving problems without it, but you—you have had to live most of your life as a mortal. There is no one better suited for the labyrinth than you.” Persephone took a deep breath, trying to ease the anxiety bubbling in her chest. It didn’t work, but her words were comforting. “Thank you, Hecate,” she said, her voice quiet. The Goddess of Witchcraft smiled and dropped her hands. She might have looked like a proud mother if it wasn’t for the hint of fear in her eyes. “You can do this, Persephone.” Persephone said nothing, just held the cat tighter as she called on her magic and left the Underworld.

“What do you mean she’s in the hospital?” Dionysus demanded. Naia and Lilaia, two of his maenads, had just returned with news, and it wasn’t at all what Dionysus had expected. Phaedra had been admitted to Asclepius Community Hospital. Given her shitty husband, he feared Theseus was responsible. “She’s in labor,” said Naia. “Labor,” Dionysus repeated. “She’s having a baby,” said Lilaia. “In case you don’t know what that means.” “I know what it means,” Dionysus glared. “But how did this happen?” “Given how often you eye fuck Ariadne, I am surprised you don’t know where babies come from, Dionysus.” “I really don’t know why I put up with you,” Dionysus said. Lilaia grinned. “Ariadne never said her sister was pregnant,” Dionysus said. Naia shrugged. “She hasn’t seen Phaedra in months. It is possible she doesn’t know.” “What am I supposed to do with the fucking baby?” “What do you mean what are you supposed to do with the fucking baby?” asked Lilaia. “You bring it with you.” “That’s kidnapping.” “It’s not kidnapping if there is consent.” “The baby can’t consent!” There was a beat of silence, and then Naia said, “I really don’t understand how you lived this long.” “That makes two of us,” Dionysus snapped. “Three,” Lilaia added. Dionysus glared at them both.