Persephone
Chapter twenty-seven
My stomach threatened the resurgence of my breakfast, turning upside down at the steep sense of wrongness—the disorientation of blinking in one setting and opening your eyes to another.
Another much colder setting. One with black stone and wrought iron that was no doubt enchanted to keep unexpected visitors out every bit as much as it I knew it would keep me in.
I didn’t have to touch it to know sparks would erupt from my touch, to know that if I challenged it, I’d be blown backwards by an invisible force.
House Hades was a jagged gash of black against an endlessly overcast sky.
A wound bleeding shadows into an already harsh, decrepit landscape.
Nothing even resembling green grew between the stones leading up to the monstrous castle the god of the dead called home.
Not even a hint of withered grass even suggested that it was possible.
Distant screams carried on a wind, the kind that married terror and pain in their purest forms.
This was the Underworld. I had thought my mother had exaggerated its bleakness. Its silent ruin disguised as peace.
I had never been more wrong.
When I turned around, desperate for the light that had previously enveloped me, to take me back to the Overworld, all I saw was more expansive black and grey. All I heard was the sloshing of the Styx and another shriek of agony.
I cried out, taking another step. Surely it would appear again, the light of the portal.
And when it didn’t, I whirled on Hades in a flurry of wrath that would make even Ares proud. Hades stared at me with wild eyes, like someone stranded on an island would watch an oncoming storm.
“What have you done?” My voice projected above everything; the surrounding stone echoed my anger. “You have no right—”
“I had every right!” he roared, the echo clapping back to surround me. “But I also had no choice. You’re safer here, where you weren’t in the mortal realm or even Olympus! The Morningstar can’t access you here. Only those invited by me or touched by death can access this realm.”
I narrowed my eyes, my fists shaking with fury. “What do you care about my safety?”
“I don’t,” he deadpanned, looking nothing like the charming Hades I’d met in Olympus.
"But the Fates have warned us that should the Morningstar possess you, all we know will cease to exist. Doom and gloom prophecy and all that. You’re too accessible in the mortal realm.
He can’t touch you here, so this is your best option.
” The sarcasm fled his tone, returning to the flat tone he had before, devoid of emotion at all.
“He’s become obsessed with you, Persephone. ”
“Someone sounds jealous,” I spat, glaring up at him. My barb was the first thing that broke his mask of indifference. His lips widened into a feral grin.
“Oh, little shadow, you tell yourself that all you like. This isn’t about romance.
This is about politics, not that you’re at Olympus enough to understand, but he’s dangerous.
He could use you to bring Olympus to its knees.
The only one who gets to do that is me, so if I must babysit you until this blows over or until we can kill the Morningstar, then that’s fine with me.
” He turned to walk towards an onyx portcullis, the eerie green of the River Styx coming into view as I followed him.
I may not like Hades much right now, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be alone in the Underworld and all its creepy, haunting aesthetic.
Besides, how often is it that creepy things are only aesthetic?
Not often enough by far.
“What of my mother?” I insisted with renewed urgency. “And Zeus?”
Hades’s face softened incrementally. “They were able to buy you the time you needed for me to get you out. They’re alive.” His hand reached for my shoulder, a gesture that was almost comforting. “Zeus is the King of the Gods and Demeter is… well, she’s Demeter. I’d never bet against her.”
The words, like his gesture, rang hollow within me.
“They’ll come and get me.” I could feel my conviction fading. “Zeus and Mother. You can’t keep me here like a prisoner!”
Hades, of all things, laughed. “Who do you think arranged for you to be my guest?”
“No!”
“It’s true. Zeus has good ideas every now and again. It’s why we all tolerate him,” he continued with a smarmy grin over his shoulder. “You should be thanking me.”
My mind reeled at trying to keep up with his audacity. I marched up beside him in a huff, drawing his amused gaze. “Thank you?”
“Yes, like that, but next time try to sound like you aren’t emotionally constipated.”
“Motherfucker—” I started to wind up, to verbally destroy the god of the dead.
“No, you’re confusing me with the Titans. We quit the incest millennia ago,” he scoffed. “Now I’ll lead you to your rooms.”
“My rooms?" I nearly pulled up in surprise. "Not a cell?”
This time he looked genuinely confused. “Yes? You’re a guest, not a prisoner.”
“Then let me go back to the mortal realm.” He gave me a look of quiet, trained patience.
“You know I can’t. Not until I receive the all-clear.”
I scowled from behind my crossed arms. “Then I am a prisoner.”
“Dress it up or down however you like. You’re free to wander House Hades, but I would steer clear of the River Styx. All of the rivers, actually. Falling in is a bitch, and it happens more than you think. But I think I know something that will make your stay more enjoyable.”
He whistled, loudly enough I covered my ears. A pause, followed by the fast beat of paws in the ground. He looked at me with a genuine smile this time, one that caught me off guard. “I hope you like dogs.”
The three-beat rhythm of galloping padded feet sounded off from the direction of the massive black castle.
Hades’s grin softened as three heads stopped before us, each sniffing him excitedly.
His hands reached up to scratch each chin, behind each ear and the little divot on the top of each head with a soft word for each one.
I couldn’t believe it. Mother had told me about the guardian of the Underworld, Hades’s three-headed dog, but to see him was another thing.
And so tiny. He was barely bigger than a horse. As the guardian of the Underworld, I expected much larger, given the size of some threats.
“Cerberus is real.” Snapping out of my awe stuck reverie, I stammered, “Of course you’re real, I just never thought I’d see you.” All three heads whipped over to me with varying levels of distrust. The middle one outright growled, only to receive a gentle swat on the top of his black, furry head.
“That’s rude,” Hades admonished before rubbing the baby-eyed dog under the chin again. “She’s our guest, so be sure to protect her while she’s here.”
Did the middle head just roll its eyes?
“May I?” I asked the head closest to me, holding my hand out for investigation. The tail behind began to wag, his tongue lolling out immediately. The middle head looked exasperated, and the far one just looked bored. I glanced at Hades, “All three have distinct personalities?”
“That they do.” Hades’s exasperation was purely for show because it melted away entirely when his hands found the left head’s ears.
“Lefty here will never not be your best friend. Right doesn’t care as long as belly rubs are involved.
” As if on cue, Cerberus was belly up, all three heads doing a great job of looking pathetic and bereft of attention.
As Hades began to scratch, the three-headed dog’s hind leg pedaled in the air.
“It’s Middle that you might have to earn. He’s a bit standoffish.”
As if fully tracking the conversation, Middle looked over at me, eyes narrowed in a warning. It might have been more menacing had the other two heads not had their tongues lolling out and belly up. Still, I knew better than to approach.
Hades let out a slow breath and, with a quick glance back at me, turned on his heel, and strode the obsidian causeway to where the massive castle sat proudly displayed on high overlooking the rivers.
Feeling a chill grip my spine at the thought of being alone here, I hurried to catch up with him, my feet finding and matching his cadence quickly enough.
“Everything is dead here.” I noted the withered plant life. No trees grew along the banks of the river, no flowers in the bare garden bed that I was pretty sure was a failed experiment from millennia back. Now the scorched ground looked as capable of sprouting greenery as he was.
“Welcome to the land of the dead.” Hades didn’t miss a beat with his snide tone. “Where everything is, in fact, dead. Imagine that.”
I stopped short.
“You don’t have to be such a prick!” I scolded him. He turned around, the corners of his mouth picked up slightly.
“You’re right, I don’t.” Hades laughed as we crossed the threshold into the massive dome-shaped hall carved from obsidian, with stained-glass windows and fragmented black glass columns that were as rough as they were oddly beautiful.
The walls had panels with outcroppings and carvings adorning them, meaning everywhere you looked there was something new to admire.
The towering ceiling went up an eternity.
Curved, ornate balconies lining each floor meant there was a view no matter where you were.
There were whispers as I was walked into the keep.
Servants gave me a wide berth and curious, unblinking glances.
Courtiers—did Hades keep court like in the mortal realm?
— did too, eyes narrowed scrupulously at me, tacking each step with precision that would have made Daedalus proud.
Mere steps ahead, Hades paid no mind to any of them, striding forward as if nobody else existed. I shivered, partly from the scrutiny, and partly from the persistent dampness that chilled the air.
The chill of death.