Chapter 6 - Ophelia #2
"You are." He takes a drink, watching me over the rim.
I grab mine, shooting it back. The burn doesn't help the flipping of my stomach.
"Goddess of Spring. Rebirth. Growth. You were reborn into this life with no memory of your divine nature, but your power remains.
" He stares at me, and I see him watching me, gauging my reaction.
"At least, some of them. That's why plants respond to you.
Why you can make things grow that shouldn't. Why those vines—"
"I hallucinated those."
"You didn't." His voice is firm. "You felt them die when I destroyed them. I saw it in your face."
I did. God help me, I did. It's the same feeling I got when that woman destroyed the petals on the Narcissus. Or when someone crushed a delicate bloom in their hands, unknowingly destroying something I'd slaved over.
"This is insane," I whisper. My mind races going back and forth through my memories, seeing times when I'd had weird experiences, and I hated how many of them I found. "It's fucking nuts."
"Yes," he agrees, and my head snaps up. "But it's also true."
I hold out my glass. "I need another drink." Hades takes the glass and refills it. This time he hands it to me, careful to make sure our hands don't touch.
"Let's say," I swallow bile in my throat.
"Let's just say for the sake of argument that I believe any of this.
Gods. Powers. Cults." I set the glass down harder than necessary, not wanting another drink right now.
"That doesn't explain why you knew where I was.
How you found me. How you—" I gesture vaguely at the penthouse.
"How you have all this." I bite the inside of my lip. "Shouldn't you be in Hell?"
He snorts. "The Underworld isn't hell, but no, I don't reside there."
"Convenient."
This time he rolls his eyes. "I own Erebus," he says simply.
The name sounds familiar. "Erebus like—"
"The casino. And the three others on the Strip. And several businesses throughout the city." He's watching me carefully. "I live here because I enjoy it, and I'm able to afford it. It's also not hard to get to the Underworld when I need to."
No shit.
I don't know much about owning casinos, but dude is loaded, which the view from this bedroom alone could have told me.
"You're a casino owner."
"Among other things."
"What other things?"
His smile is sharp. "You don't want to know."
"Let me guess, they are illegal."
"I prefer entrepreneur—"
"You're mafia, aren't you?" I'm backing away from him again without meaning to. "You— what, you run drugs? Guns? Girls?" The idea nearly makes me vomit.
He rolls his eyes. "I deal in debts," he says calmly. "Contracts. Protection. I enforce agreements that people make when they're desperate. I ensure that what's owed gets paid."
"That's extortion—"
"That's business."
"That's illegal—"
"The legality of my operations is not your concern right now.
" His eyes flash in irritation, and I realize how patient he's been trying to be.
"What should concern you is that the people who took you tonight.
They're zealots. Religious extremists who believe you're the key to resurrecting dead gods.
And they won't stop coming for you. Not until they have you.
Not until they use you for whatever ritual they've planned. "
The room tilts slightly. I grip the dresser. "Use me how?"
"I don't know the details." His jaw tightens, and I can't tell if he's angry at me, them, or at not knowing something.
He doesn't strike me as a man accustomed to losing control.
"But I know it's nothing good. And I know that out there—" He gestures to the windows, to the glittering city beyond.
"—you're exposed. Vulnerable. Here, you're protected. Warded. Safe."
"I'm a prisoner."
"You're alive." The words are sharp, almost angry. "Those men would have taken you to their compound. Would have done god knows what to you. And I—" He stops, takes a breath. "I couldn't let that happen."
"Why?" I demand. "Why do you care?"
Something crosses his face. Pain, maybe. Or longing. "Because you always have."
The silence stretches between us.
Always. Like he's known me for lifetimes. Like I'm supposed to remember.
I don't.
I know the myth of Hades and Persephone. The abduction. The pomegranate seeds. The forced marriage. And this guy seems determined to cast me in the role.
Despite the fact that we don't know one another.
"I want to go home," I say finally, quietly. "I need to go back to my shop."
"I know."
"I don't believe you. Any of this. Gods and cults and—" I shake my head. "It's insane."
"I know."
I put my hands on my hips, glaring at him. "Are you going to say anything else?"
He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated but controlled. He's not letting it out. "What would you like me to say, Pers—"
I interrupt him. "Ophelia," I snap. "My name is Ophelia."
His jaw works, clenching, and I can tell he wants to say something to me.
"And if we are both Gods, why is it that you remember who you are, and I allegedly have amnesia.
" I look at him closely. His skin is smooth, but there's a small scar across his cheek.
"And what are you — thirty? Did you have a cult trying to kill you as well? "
"No," he says. I hate how controlled he is. He's clearly irate with me, and yet, he's keeping himself in check.
Apparently, I'm the only person who is going to freak out here.
"Then, why do you remember?"
"It's a long story."
I perch on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, chin lifted. "I clearly have time."
He sighs and looks up at the ceiling as though he is being pained by me. "A long time ago—"
"How long?"
"Thousands of years ago…"
I stay quiet, waiting for him to continue despite the millions of questions in my head.
"The Gods ruled the world. People worshipped us. We didn't know that we got our power from that worship. But as the world changed, and the mortals learned new skills, technology, they needed us less."
He pauses, and I wait, engrossed in where the hell this is going.
"For many Gods, their powers started to die off, and they didn't understand why. When we realized what was happening, we knew if we wanted to survive, we needed to change, to find a new power source."
I raise my brow. "Gambling?"
He snorts. "Vice, though I will admit that I didn't have as much trouble as some of the others…Death is…"
"Eternal?"
He nods, and I snort. "I suppose the only thing one can bank on is death and taxes."
He laughs, and I hate how much I like the sound.
"So the gods who died are reborn with no memory? Like some sort of Romantasy book?"
He looks confused. "What is that?"
"Answer the question."
"No," he says. "Most of the gods who faded just…disappeared. We aren't sure what happened."
"But not Persephone?" I can't bring myself to create some sort of parallel there. Because I still don't believe what Hades is saying. The Ancient Greek Gods don't exist. They didn't.
"It's complex, but no, Persephone was released back into the Earth, and I knew that she…you…" he swallows heavily, and I ignore the way his comment makes me squirm, "would eventually be reborn."
I release a heavy breath. "So, you expect me to believe that?"
His eyes narrow. "Believe it or not, that's your choice. What you can believe is that there are a group of people who want to kidnap you."
I swallow the sarcasm that was on my tongue. Because he is correct. Someone is after me. A group of someones.
"You aren't wrong," I admit. "Which is why I'm going to stay here."
"Really?"
"Really," I say. "For now."
He nods and looks out of the large windows. "You should get some rest. We can talk more tomorrow."
I nod.
Hades makes his way towards the door, and I stop him. "Don't lock it," I say, touching the scar through the silk, that old familiar ache. "If you want me to trust you, you'll need to trust me. I told you I would stay, and I will. But if you lock me inside, I will do my best to escape."
His eyes narrow, and I suspect he's fighting his urge to control this situation.
After a beat though