Chapter 9
Persephone
“Where would you like these?” Ares asked.
Persephone turned to see the God of War holding a sheet of cookies. The hulking god was wearing a pink apron and matching oven mitts, both Aphrodite had insisted on. The color clashed with his mood and fierce appearance, amusing Persephone.
She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling at the sight.
“They can go on the counter by Lexa,” she said.
Ares turned, almost mechanically, letting the tray drop so that the cookies bounced.
“You don’t have to slam them,” Lexa said, glaring.
“I didn’t slam them,” he argued.
“Yes, you did. We all heard it.” She gestured toward Persephone and Aphrodite who had turned to watch the interaction. “And look, that one’s broken.”
Ares swiped the cookie off the tray and shoved it in his mouth even though it had just come out of the oven. She guessed he could heal his blistered mouth instantly, so maybe it didn’t matter. “Now it’s not broken because it doesn’t exist.”
Lexa sighed, exasperated, and Persephone wondered if they were going to get through this without Lexa declaring war on Ares. The thought made her anxious and in response, the babies kicked.
“Be gentle, Ares,” said Aphrodite, her voice like a soothing wave. “We’re here to have fun.”
There was silence and after a moment, Ares cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said curtly. “I’ll do better.”
“Thank you, Ares,” Aphrodite said.
She and Persephone turned back to the cupcakes they were piping, her smile turning into a yawn.
“Babies keep you up again?” Aphrodite asked
“Don’t tell Hades,” Persephone said.
Aphrodite gave her a strange look. “Why would I tell Hades?”
“I know you wouldn’t tell him,” she said. “I just…he will think it is his fault that I am tired.”
Aphrodite looked down at her belly before meeting her gaze again. “Darling, it kind of is his fault.”
“What I mean is, I finally convinced Hades to have sex again last night, and if he thinks it kept me from resting, he maybe won’t…”
“Fuck you again?” Aphrodite finished.
“I don’t know if you can call it fucking when I am literally nine months pregnant.”
Aphrodite scrunched her nose. “Not that good?”
“No, no,” Persephone said. “It was good. It was so good. The point is the babies hate it, and they give me these…awful nightmares every time we…”
“Fuck,” Aphrodite said when Persephone didn’t finish her sentence.
She hadn’t even realized she’d stopped talking, but her mind had wandered to last night’s dream. She was in the nursery, standing between the babies’ bassinets. She hummed quietly, watching them sleep, precious breaths raising their rounded bellies. It was a symphony of sweet sounds she relished.
Then she noticed a red spot on one of the white-lined bassinets. She frowned, brows lowering, and bent to inspect the stain when she felt something wet in her hair. It was thick and sticky, and when she pulled her fingers away, she saw it was blood.
Her skin began to tingle and her heart beat in every part of her body.
Another drop hit her forehead and trickled into her eye, sight tinted red.
She tilted her head upward and saw a large crimson stain on the ceiling and it was spreading.
The room was bleeding.
The babies began to cry, and when Persephone looked, they were covered in drops of bright blood.
She gathered them into her arms, hoping to escape this nightmare, but found she could no longer see the door.
They were trapped.
That was when she’d startled awake.
Persephone blew out a breath. “Why can’t I give birth like other gods?”
“Would you want your children to be born from semen and sea foam?”
Persephone scrunched her nose at the thought, feeling a little guilty knowing that was how Aphrodite had manifested.
“I think it is beautiful that you are carrying these children,” said Aphrodite. “You will have a deeper connection with them. You clearly already do. And they will be half of you and half of Hades, though let us hope they do not inherit your husband’s furrowed brow.”
Persephone laughed, and this time, Aphrodite yawned.
“Let me guess,” said Persephone. “You had better things to do than sleep last night?”
Aphrodite’s lips curled, her cheeks pleasantly flushed.
“I was supposed to help Hephaestus build the traps for the Kallikantzaroi, but when I found him in his shop, he’d destroyed it searching for his hammer.”
Persephone felt the color drain from her face.
“He didn’t build the trap?”
Aphrodite shook her head. “He had to reforge his hammer. Harmonia said she, Sybil, and Leuce received a flood of emails from readers complaining about items going missing overnight. The Kallikantzaroi were busy.”
It wasn’t unusual for mortals to email The Advocate to express their grievances with the gods. They knew it was a direct line to Persephone, which was a direct line to Hades and the Olympian Council.
Persephone’s stomach turned. She would need to message Sybil later to check in. The oracle had texted her shortly after Hades’s press conference to say it had gone about as well as she’d expected which was not saying much. Hades hated the media.
“Don’t worry, Persephone,” said Aphrodite. “It was inevitable that some would suffer the impact of this, including us. And when I left, Hephaestus had begun the first trap so we will have something better for tonight, just not as many as we hoped.”
“If we are to have fewer traps, do we need all these sweets?” Ares asked with a note of optimism in his voice Persephone had never heard before.
The two turned to look at the God of War, who stood beside the kitchen island, one hand planted firmly on the countertop, the other on his hip.
Lexa snorted. “What kind of question is that? Of course we need all these sweets.”
“What we don’t use for the trap can be donated to Halcyon’s shelters,” said Persephone.
After the war, the Halcyon Project had established several sanctuaries around New Greece. At first, they housed mortals who had lost their homes during the war. Once neighborhoods had been rebuilt, they provided shelter and resources to those who continued to experience homelessness.
“You’re not getting out of baking that easily,” said Aphrodite.
Ares’s crossed his arms over his chest, grumbling just as the timer went off.
Suddenly, the doors burst open as Cerberus raced into the kitchen. He was followed by Typhon and Orthrus. None of them were prepared for the slippery tile. They lost their footing and crashed into each other, though they recovered quickly, trotting over to Persephone.
“Oh, look at you three!” she said, attempting to pet each one, struggling as they wiggled with excitement. “Did Auntie Hecate get ahold of you?”
They were wearing a set of red pajamas covered in little sailboats wrapped in Christmas lights. Very Greek and very festive. She had also traded out their collars for massive, red bows.
“Aren’t they handsome boys?” Hecate asked, appearing in the doorway.
“You know they are,” said Persephone. “I’m surprised you are only now pulling out the pajamas.”
It was Hecate’s annual tradition to dress the animals of the Underworld in matching jammies.
“I would have, but a certain god ruined my plans,” said Hecate, clearly still angry with Hermes, though at the reference, Persephone could not help feeling sad. She missed the God of Mischief and ached for his return. She hoped he was managing well enough. Hecate’s punishments could be quite rough.
“I’m off to dress the horses now,” Hecate announced.
“I think you mean chase the horses, Hecate,” Persephone said, amused, knowing the goddess struggled to get the horses to obey. She wasn’t sure if it was because Orphnaeus, Aethon, Nycteus, and Alastor disliked Hecate’s choice in holiday blankets, or they saw it as a game.
Either way, it was always amusing to watch.
“I have a plan this year,” said Hecate. “They won’t see it coming.”
Persephone wasn’t so sure about that, but she wasn’t going to dash the goddess’s dreams. With that, Hecate vanished, and in the quiet that followed, Lexa said, “What is that supposed to be?”
She was leaning over Ares’s sugar cookies.
“It’s a Fury,” he said, holding a pipe of red frosting.
“That’s supposed to be an angel.”
“Persephone said I could decorate however I wanted.”
“I can assure you that did not mean turning them into blood-covered monsters.”
“I can assure you, it does,” said Ares.
Persephone sighed and Aphrodite laughed. “The Fates are just trying to prepare you for what it will be like when the children are here.”
“I think what I need most right now is rest.”
Persephone manifested atop the golden hills of Elysium. It had been a while since she visited, at least six weeks, unable to gather the energy to teleport, but after her night with Hades, she felt well enough to go.
The fields remained untouched by snow, but Persephone could feel the chill air of the Underworld at her back, a stark contrast to the fresh, salty breeze ahead.
The holidays did not touch Elysium, and for that, Persephone felt a little sad, but she knew it was for the best. The souls here were healing, and while Thanatos allowed them to be slowly introduced to new things, they were too fragile to experience the holidays all at once.
She looked down at the tray of diples she had brought, feeling conflicted.
They were one of many treats she’d shared with Demeter when she was younger, no more important than any other.
Still, she wondered if it was too much. She did not want to impede the goddess’s healing.
She considered sending them away, but when she looked up, she saw her mother approaching and knew it was too late.
Her throat felt tight as she managed to smile, matching the turn of her mother’s lips.