A Touch of Darkness (Hades & Persephone, #1)

by Scarlett St. Clair

The walkway was lined with shade trees and box gardens teeming with purple aster and pink and white sweet alyssum.

A light breeze carried the scent of spring and the honeyed air was mild.

narcissus flowers

The narcissus was the flower and symbol of Hades, the God of the Dead.

Their presence at the Coffee House probably meant the owner was in mourning, which was really the only time mortals worshipped the God of the Underworld.

Persephone always wondered how Hades felt about that or if he cared. He was more than just the King ...

“He has taken on the role of puppet master,” Demeter had chided. “Deciding fates as if he were one of the Moirai himself. He should be ashamed.”

She’d ordered her usual vanilla latte

Lexa’s edginess—she had tattoos, hair as black as night, and a love of the Goddess of Witchcraft, Hecate.

Not with coffee. Alcohol. Shots. You + Me. Tonight.

“Do you think Lord Hades has a sense of humor?”

“I think he must have a sense of humor,” she explained. “The narcissus is a symbol of spring and rebirth.”

“Why else would he claim it as his?”

They were discussing the Great Descent, the name given to the day the gods came to Earth, and the Great War, the terrible and bloody battles that followed.

“I got us into Nevernight!”

Dionysus’s line of wines sold out in seconds and were rumored to contain ambrosia.

Aphrodite’s couture gowns were so coveted, a girl killed for one just a few months ago. There was a trial and everything.

Persephone had won the battle, but Demeter declared war.

Still, majoring in botany was not as important as staying away from the gods, because the gods didn’t know Persephone existed.

She had never kissed a boy.

“You are two things to gods,” she’d told Persephone when she was very young. “A power play or a plaything.” “Surely you are wrong, Mother. Gods love. There are several who are married.” Demeter had laughed. “Gods marry for power, my flower.”

that identified all gods as Divine, and that was their horns. Persephone’s were white and spiraled straight into the air like those of a greater kudu,

“I don’t really want to meet Hades,” she said at last. Those words tasted bitter on her tongue,

because they were really a lie.

Nevernight was a slender obsidian pyramid with no windows, taller than the bright buildings around it, and from a distance, it looked like a disruption in the fabric of the city. The tower could be seen from anywhere in New Athens. Demeter had said the only reason Hades built the tower so tall was to remind mortals of their finite lives.

She’d borrowed the pink sparkly number from Lexa, who was far less shapely. Persephone’s hair fell in loose curls around her face, and Lexa had applied minimal makeup to show off her natural beauty.

“Black’s not really my color.”

“Persephone. Don’t get me wrong, you’re hot and all, but…what are the actual odds you’ll catch Hades’s attention? This place is packed.”

“What? There’s always a story in the Delphi Divine about some mortal trying to break into the Underworld to rescue their loved ones.”

“How would Hades even know if some curious mortal snapped a photo?”

“I have no idea how he knows,” Lexa admitted. “I just know that he does, and the consequences aren’t worth it.” “What are the consequences?” “A broken phone, blackballed from Nevernight, and a write-up in a gossip magazine.”

A blast of cool air hit her, carrying the scent of spirits, sweat, and something akin to bitter oranges. Narcissus.

The Goddess of Spring found herself on a balcony overlooking the floor of the club. There were people everywhere—crowded around tables playing cards and drinking at the bar shoulder to shoulder, their silhouettes ignited by a red backlight. Several plush booths were arranged in cozy settings and packed with people, but it was the center of the club that drew Persephone’s attention. A sunken dance floor held bodies like water in a basin. People moved against each other in a mesmerizing rhythm under a stream of red light. Overhead, the ceiling was lined with crystal and wrought-iron chandeliers.

He had a jawline as sharp as a diamond and a head of thick, curly hair as dark as his eyes, and his skin was a beautiful, burnished brown. He was one of the most handsome men Persephone had ever seen.

“Adonis.”

“You lived in Olympia? I bet it was beautiful!” Persephone had lived far, far away from the city proper in her mother’s glass greenhouse and hadn’t seen much of Olympia.

Sybil

“I’m in the College of the Divine.” Sybil said.

The Impious were a group of mortals who rejected the gods when they came to Earth. Having already felt abandoned by them, they were not eager to obey. There had been a revolt, and two sides were born. Even the gods who supported the Impious used mortals like puppets, dragging them across battlefields, and for a year, destruction, chaos, and fighting had reigned.

She noticed small details like strands of tiny lights overhead that looked like stars in the dark above, single-stemmed narcissus on the tables at each booth, and the wrought-iron rails of the second story balcony where a lone figure loomed.

That was where her gaze stayed, meeting a pair of shadowy eyes.

Had she thought earlier that Adonis was the most handsome man she’d ever seen? She’d been wrong. Tha...

She couldn’t tell the color of his eyes, but they ignited a fire under her skin, and it was like he knew; his full lips curved into a harsh smile, drawing attention to his strong jaw covered in dark stubble. He was big, well over six and a half feet tall, and dressed in darkness from his inky hair to his black suit.

The fire pooled low in her stomach, reminding her of how empty she felt, how desperately she needed to be filled up.

“A lounge. It’s quieter. More intimate. I guess he prefers the peace when he’s negotiating his terms.”

“Yeah, you know, for his contracts. Mortals come here to play him for things—money or love or whatever. The fucked-up part is, if the mortal loses, he gets to pick the stakes. And he’ll usually ask them to do something impossible.” “What do you mean?” “Apparently he can see vices or whatever. So he’ll ask the alcoholic to remain sober and the sex addict to be chaste. If they meet the terms, they get to live. If they fail, he gets their soul. It’s like he wants them to lose.”

“It’s okay to be vulnerable, you know?” “What do you mean?” Persephone’s question was snappier than she intended. Lexa shrugged. “Never mind.”

sea-green eyes: a woman was leaning against the column at the end of the stairs. Persephone thought she looked familiar but couldn’t place her. Her hair was like gold silk and as radiant as Helios’s sun, her skin the color of cream, and she wore a modern version of a peplos that matched her eyes.

Aphrodite!

“Pathos.”

headed up the spiral steps to the second floor. As she topped the stairs, she found nothing but a set of dark doors embellished with gold and a gorgon standing guard. The creature’s face was badly scarred—evident even with the white blindfold covering her eyes. Like others of her kind, she once had snakes in place of hair. Now, a white hooded cloak covered her head and hid her body.