Chapter 24 Hades
Hades
I wind our boxy SUV around the sinuous coastal road. The pale sunlight filters through the dark-tinted windows, casting a wide box of light that falls upon still-sleeping Persephone. She’s been sleeping for hours now, ever since the doctor gave her some pain medication.
My eyes are fixed on the still silhouette of her face.
Even in sleep, her face is pale with two heavy smudges of shadow under each eye. I can’t look away.
Ever since I found her, all but passed out from blood loss in that bathroom in Monaco City, I’ve been watching her like a hawk.
As if I could keep her here and alive simply through the force of my willing it to be.
As if I could bind her to my side, make sure that nothing happens to her. My brain knows that is not the way to keep Persephone from leaving.
But my gut is what drove me in the hours after I scooped her up in my arms and carried her away from any danger lurking in Monaco. It helped me to focus my thoughts, calling Linc and demanding the name of a discreet doctor.
I stood by while the woman cut Persephone’s dress off of her body, trying to distract myself from the red slashes carved into Persephone’s delicate ribs. Usually, no mere flesh wound would make my stomach churn like this.
But there are exceptions that prove every rule.
I held her hand and forced myself to think through what our next steps would need to be. Where would we go? How would we hide?
And for how long?
That same feeling still drives me now, as I bring Persephone back to the safest place I can think of.
I’m operating by listening to my gut, which is totally unlike me.
Usually, I’m so deliberate. If a plan doesn’t work out, there are the second, third, and fourth back up plans.
All meticulously planned out, leaving nothing to chance.
But now? Now that I have a wounded Persephone in my care and I’m on the run? I’m a man wandering in the darkness, god damn it, and it’s scaring the fuck out of me.
What else am I meant to do? I can’t call anyone. I can’t ask for advice.
It’s just me and a badly-injured Persephone now. No time for misgivings.
No time for the anger that claws at me, demanding that she be held accountable for fucking up our entire plan in Monaco. No time for my mind to wander over what she said to me again.
I don’t feel safe around you, knowing that you are going to fight every single guy who so much as looks at you wrong.
It echoes around my head, popping into my thoughts at the most inopportune moments.
She doesn’t feel safe around me.
What am I supposed to do with that?
So, I came to the only place that I truly know we will be safe. Now that my father is dead, his house on Blank Island off the northwest coast of Scotland is an unassailable fortress.
It might be an obvious choice for a hiding spot. But with its age-old defenses and its distance from any civilization, I do not have to think twice about its safety.
I turn and look out the window, tensing as the SUV begins climbing the final hill.
Rough blocks of white and khaki jut out against the pale blue summer sky.
Ancient architecture, older than the dawn of time, indicating exactly where the manor lands begin.
The tall, thick stone wall is bordered by long grasses and heather that grow wild at the bottom.
My heart begins to beat faster as I drive the SUV under the curved stone archway.
The manor springs into view, massive and sprawling, the edges of its khaki roof and white stone walls worn with age. My fists clench as we pull up at the end the circular drive.
It’s been a decade since I was here last. My pulse pounds as I stare the scene down.
The massive oak front door, flaking off tiny pieces of shellac.
The same old haphazardly-placed chimneys.
The exotic animal topiaries, my father’s pride and joy.
They’ve grown wild but remain standing before the house, still fanned out like spread fingers.
It’s a bit rougher than when I last saw it. Less tamed, less cared for. But to my way of thinking, not a single detail seems to have changed. My stomach flip-flops and my gaze hardens.
I swallow thickly.
“Hades?”
I jerk my head toward Persephone. She is just stirring, dazzling me with those hazel eyes as she sweeps her dark hair away from her face. She sits up with a grimace.
“We’re here,” I announce. I clear my throat. “In the Hebrides.”
“Oh,” she groans quietly, her hand fluttering to her ribs. Her gaze sweeps out, taking in the manor, narrowing a little. “Scotland?”
“Aye.” I climb out of the SUV, walking purposefully around to help her get out. “Dinnae ye remember the plane rides?”
She shakes her head, still clearly groggy.
“What happened to my project? The forgeries, I mean.”
“I preserved them and had them packed up.” I look forward, clenching the wheel tightly. “I did not think it wise to bring them here.” Swiping my tongue over my lip, I check the rearview mirror compulsively. But of course, there is no one behind me.
There will be no one that follows us here, to the gates of my personal Hell.
Persephone puts her hand to her head, her eyes trained on the manor. There is no expression on her face aside from pain as I slide my arm around her and help her toward the house.
“How long was I asleep for?” she asks, her voice quavering.
“Ye’ve slept most of the day, lass.”
I sweep open the front door and we step into the small, round foyer. It’s my least favorite room in a manor full of memories. Memories of brutal beatings and cruel punishments. But Persephone doesn’t know that.
She just winces and leans against me, frowning up at the low ceiling. “I feel like I could sleep for days.”
“Ye probably will,” I predict, hurrying her through to the main hall.
The main hall opens up rather spectacularly.
Persephone pulls to a stop, her eyes wide as she casts a glance around the massive room we’re in.
Huge antique chandeliers hang every few feet the length of the room, which is as long as two Olympic swimming pools.
Just now there are dust cloths wrapping them, so they look like huge gray ghosts, dominating the whole room.
Windows are a relatively new invention, and this place definitely doesn’t have many of them.
Especially not here, in the oldest part of the building.
There are very old Persian rugs laid over the stone floors; in some places, beneath the rugs the stone has grooves from the feet of generations of my ancestors, stretching far into the past.
“Where did you find this place?” Persephone asks. She motions to a high backed plum colored chair, ratty from age and with a thick coating of accumulated dust.
My face contorts and I make her keep moving toward the back of the room. “It was my home as a child.”
Persephone looks startled, her mouth opening with a silent gasp. “Really?”
I nod, already weary of her questions. “Aye.”
“Why didn’t we just hide out here?” she asks, her eyes roving around the hall.
My jaw tenses. I look away, blanking my facial features.
“The years I spent here were not a happy time. This is not a joyous place for me. All it reminds me of is pain and loss. But I know it is safe, which is what we need right now.”
Her eyes widen. I see her lips part to ask questions.
“Not yet,” I say, cutting her questions off. “I promise, I’ll try to answer your questions later. Let’s just get ye settled.”
To our left are the kitchens and the dilapidated servant’s quarters. I pull Persephone along, not ready to let her explore on her own quite yet. And for her part, she seems pretty complacent.
I am sure that part of her docility is due to the pain medication, though.
Eschewing the bedrooms, which are undoubtedly so dusty and dingy as to be near worthless, I opt for hustling Persephone into my late father’s office.
A library full of books covers the entirety of one wall.
Several dusty wingback chairs sit clustered near the small window.
My father’s desk is exactly as he left it the last day he was alive, complete with his favorite fancy pen.
Yellowing papers in a neat wire basket on one corner.
A bit of his dusty blue stationary sits in the middle of his desk.
He was in the middle of writing a letter to one of his political chums when he died of a sudden stroke.
I can see the flourished swirl of his handwriting. It wasn’t necessary to read the damn thing to know that he was angry. He was always furious about something or the other, bitter until his dying fucking breath.
I swallow hard and half-carry Persephone over to one of the chairs. Leaving her standing on her own for a moment, I lift one of the smooth, butter yellow leather chairs over my head. It takes a minute of blowing on it and brushing my hands over it to remove most of the dust.
Persephone is suddenly wracked with a coughing fit, fanning a hand in front of her face. She looks as if she could keel over at any moment.
Gritting my teeth, I catch her by the elbow and lever her into the chair.
“Stay put,” I tell her. “I have to use the landline to call in someone to clean.”
“What?” She coughs again, her shoulders shaking. “I thought we were on the run. Why are you broadcasting our location to the world all of a sudden?”
“Just relax.” I shoot her a glare out of the corner of my eye and stride over to the phone on the desk.
“My family owns the closest town and almost everything on this damn two-bit island. The school, the paper, the local mill? They all belong to me. And those that aren’t owned by me are owned by friends of the family.
” I pause, my brows rising a little. “Besides. Who would they even tell?”
Persephone straightens and leans back in her chair. Her hand travels up to the bandages on her ribcage. “Constantine, for one.”
I don’t feel safe around you. The thought echoes around in the background of my thoughts. I grimace.
Persephone Corbin will feel safe here. I’m as sure of it as I am that the sky is blue, that the grass underneath my feet will one day again turn green. If it is the very last thing I do, she will know she is safe here.
“Yer untouchable while yer here. The island is distant from every other place on earth, lass. The house is remote. We are locked inside a manor surrounded by a very, very big wall.” I pick up the phone, shrugging as if it’s moot.
“I’d love to see him attack this place. It’s been in my family for a millennia, unassailable ever since the Lyons laid claim to it.
” I pause for a second, my tongue darting out to wet my bottom lip.
“I brought ye to the only place I’ve ever thought of as being truly safe. ”
She arches a brow at me. But my explanation, my word, will have to be good enough for her for now. I turn, giving her my shoulder as I start to dial a number I still know by heart.
It rings three times before anyone picks up.
“Hello?” answers a young woman.
“This is Hades Lyon,” I say, frowning. “Please tell Mary Nightingale that I’m here in the house. I’ll need people to come right away to clean and make sure all the lights still work.”
There is a pause. “Did you say you were Hades Lyon?”
My frown deepens. “Yes,” I fire back.
“Hold on.” There is a muffled noise, as if the young woman has placed her hand over the receiver. She gives an inelegant squawk and seems to argue with an older, distant woman on her end.
She comes back suddenly. “We’ll be right there, Mr. Lyon.”
I hang up without another word. When I turn back around, Persephone is shivering in her seat. She’s still wearing the bright pink scrubs that she got after the doctor cut her dress off her body. It’s not even remotely cold but I guess she’s been through a lot in the past ten hours.
“Ach, lass,” I say, going over to rub her arms briskly. “I’ve nothing to give to ye to warm ye up. It’s been so long since I’ve been here that I’m not even sure where the wood is to light a fire in the fireplace.”
Persephone leans against me, accepting my touch without so much as a flinch. “S’okay.” She yawns. “I’ve been cold all day.”
“Persephone…” I look down at her, my hands still rubbing her arms and moving around to her back. “I dinnae ken what I’m supposed to do with ye.”
She scrunches up her nose, pressing her face into my stomach and weaving her hands around me. She buries her hands in the back of my shirt, pulling it free from my waist.
“What does ken mean?”
“It means… know. To have knowledge.”
“Ah,” she says absently. She slides her gaze to me. “And it’s Penny, by the way.”
I arch a brow, not sure what she’s talking about. Or how her little hands can be like two blocks of ice.
“What’s that now?”
She sighs, her hazel eyes slipping closed. “I think, after you saved my life, you can call me Penny. Persephone is like… some ancient woman that I don’t even know. You should call me Penny.”
My hands stop rubbing small circles into her back. I tilt my head, taking her measure for a moment.
She opens her eyes and peers up at me, her face both sleepy and completely, utterly open. Her brown-green gaze spears me; in this moment, touching her innocently, being so damned close to her heady scent and lovely warm curves…
It’s bewitching. Almost without thought, I say her name back to her, staring into her eyes.
“Penny.”
The word is soft, light on my tongue. I let it drift away. The corners of her mouth turn upward in the hint of a smile.
Her eyes close again. “Thanks,” she whispers.
I start rubbing her back again. She lets out a sigh, so soft as to be all but silent.
This girl?
She’s dangerous. I have no idea if she even realizes it. But she is definitely angling to entrap me.
For what purpose, I have no idea. But I can feel my heart thumping in my chest. Feel her soft, supple skin as I stroke it reassuringly.
I know what is happening. I am starting… beginning to…
Feel… things.
But for the life of me, I can’t pull away. I stare down at Penny, gently rubbing her back. And I wish that I could be different.
I wish… I wish I could be the type of man that keeps girls around him. The kind of man that could…
Could make her want to stay.
I know I can’t.
I know that trying would be a painful and embarrassing failure.
I can’t be like any other man. I know no other way.
But just for now… just while we are here, in this manor, in this place that’s full of ghosts… I can pretend.
I gently push her back. She protests but I scoop her up in my arms, taking the chair for myself.
Penny yawns and immediately makes herself at home in the crook of my arm. I stay like that, stroking her lovely raven hair and enjoying the feeling of her light weight against my lap until the house falls dark.