A Touch of Malice (Hades x Persephone Saga Book 3)

Persephone appeared in a bathroom. As she landed, she went to her knees and vomited into the toilet. She wasn’t there long when she heard her name.

“Persephone?” Sybil’s confused voice came from nearby, and the goddess looked up to find the oracle in the doorway, a knife in hand. “Oh, my gods, what happened?”

She came farther into the room, and Persephone put up her hand to stop her from approaching.

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” she said, heaving once again.

There were a few long seconds when she couldn’t speak and Sybil approached, drawing her tangled hair away from her face and placing a cool cloth against her forehead. When the nausea passed, Persephone sat back against the tub, her body sagging with exhaustion. Sybil took a seat nearby. She had no idea what she must look like, but if her hands were any sort of indication, it must be bad. They were dirty and bruised, her nails torn and bloodied and there was a soreness in her wrist that reminded her of her earlier fall.

“Will you tell me what happened?” Sybil asked.

“It’s a long story,” she answered, but really, she didn’t want to think about it right now because she wasn’t sure she could keep from getting sick, and she had nothing left to throw up. Just thinking of having to recall details made her stomach churn.

“I have time,” Sybil said.

Movement came from the door and for a heartbeat, Persephone thought Hades might have followed her to Sybil’s, but instead she found a familiar face staring back.

“Harmonia?” Persephone asked, her brows knitting together. “What are you doing here?”

She smiled, holding Opal in her arms. “Hanging out,” she said. “Are you alright?”

“I will be,” she replied and then looked at Sybil. “Can I…take a bath?”

“Of course,” Sybil said. “I’ll…get you some clothes.”

Persephone waited to move until Sybil returned. She placed a set of clothes on the countertop near the sink along with a towel and washcloth.

“Thanks, Syl,” Persephone whispered.

The oracle hesitated in the doorway, frowning.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Persephone?”

“I will be,” she said and then smiled faintly. “Promise.”

“I’ll make you some tea,” she said before closing the door.

Persephone rose and started the faucet, letting it run hot until the steam wafted in the air and fogged the mirror. She peeled off her clothes and lowered herself into the waiting water. Completely immersed, she closed her eyes and focused on healing everything that ached—her scratched throat, bruised body, and sprained wrist. Once she felt a little more whole, she drew her knees to her chest and buried her face into her arms and sobbed until the water was cold. After, she rose, dried off and dressed.

She found Sybil in the living room alone, a cup of tea waiting. The oracle sat cross-legged on the couch with the television on, but Persephone didn’t recognize the program and Sybil didn’t seem to be paying attention, either. She had a deck of oracle cards in hand and was shuffling them.

“Where is Harmonia?” she asked.

“She left,” Sybil said.

“Oh,” Persephone said, taking a seat beside Sybil. “I hope she didn’t leave because of me.”

She couldn’t help feeling like she had interrupted something, though, she supposed she really had. She’d come to Sybil’s because it was the only place she felt she could go—and she knew it would be safe.

“Of course not,” Sybil replied. “She left because Aphrodite would come looking for her.”

“She is very protective of her sister,” Persephone said. “I…did not know you two were friends.”

“We connected shortly after we met outside your office,” Sybil said.

There was a long pause, the sound of Sybil’s shuffling continued a little while longer until she stopped and looked at Persephone.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Persephone sat quietly before taking a sip of tea and sitting it aside.

“Everything is falling apart,” she whispered.

“Oh, Persephone,” Sybil said. “Everything is coming together.”

At her words, she lay her head in Sybil’s lap and cried.

***

Persephone woke later to Sybil’s alarm. She’d fallen asleep on the couch without returning to the Underworld. She rose to get ready, borrowing Sybil’s clothes—a pair of thick tights, a skirt, and a button-up.

“We were supposed to visit the construction site for The Halcyon Project today but had to reschedule because of the weather,” Sybil said as she poured Persephone a cup of coffee.

Persephone frowned. She hoped Zeus kept his word and truly search for Demeter—better yet, she hoped the Olympians could convince her to cease her attack.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Sybil said.

“It is,” Persephone said. “I am sure you saw this coming before it even happened.”

The oracle shook her head. “No, I would only be able to see what my god wanted me to see,” she answered. “But you are not in control of your mother’s actions.”

“Then why do I feel so responsible?”

“Because she is hurting people and blaming you,” Sybil said. “And she is wrong to do so.”

Demeter may be wrong, but the burden was still heavy. She thought of the people who had died in that terrible crash on the highway. She would never forget receiving so many souls into the Underworld at once, or how she’d watched as their dreams left them as they passed beneath the elm, or the guilt that could still cling to a soul even after they passed through the Gates. She knew it would not be the last time something like that happened, though she’d prefer her mother not be responsible.

Persephone sighed and took a drink of her coffee, setting it aside as they left Sybil’s apartment. They decided to walk the short distance to Alexandria Tower in the cold. Persephone considered teleporting, but part of her wanted to experience what her mother’s magic was doing firsthand. She sought to feed her anger and frustration—and it worked. The walk was miserable—snow and ice hit their faces, and their feet slid on snow, compacted on the sidewalk. Ice broke apart from towering high-rises and skyscrapers, crashing to the ground with enough impact to injure or damage.

By the time they made it up the icy steps and into the tower, they were frozen.

“Good morning, my lady!” Ivy said, coming around her desk, a coffee in each hand. “Good morning, Miss Kyros.”

She handed the cups to each of them.

“Ivy, are you a magician?” Persephone asked, as she took a sip of coffee, letting the steam warm her nose.

“I’m always prepared, my lady,” she answered.

Sybil started up the stairs and as Persephone began to follow, Ivy spoke.

“My lady, I’m not sure you’ve had a chance to read the papers this morning, but I think you’ll want to start with New Athens News.”

Dread settled in Persephone stomach.

“It’s not good,” she said as her mossy eyes met Persephone’s.

“I didn’t think it would be.”

Persephone headed upstairs to her office. After Persephone was settled, she pulled up the news. The bold headline read:

Meet Theseus the Demi-God Leader of Triad

The article was written by Helen and began by giving an overview of Theseus—she called him a son of Poseidon, charming and well-educated. The description made Persephone feel nauseous considering she’d met the demi-god and he’d made her uneasy.

The article continued:

Theseus joined Triad after witnessing several men get away with murder, despite their crimes being witnessed by mortals and divine alike.

“I still remember their names,” says Theseus. “Epidaurus, Sinis, Sciron. They were thieves and murderers, and they were allowed to continue their crime sprees despite the prayers of locals. I was tired of watching the world worship gods for their beauty and power rather than their actions.”

Theseus added:

“Gods do not think in terms of good and bad—justice or injustice. I’ll give you an example. Hades, God of the Underworld, allows criminals to continue breaking the law so long as they serve him.”

Persephone’s teeth clenched tight, her fingers digging into the screen of her tablet. While not completely untrue, Theseus’s statement was misleading. Persephone had learned upon her first visit to Iniquity that Hades was heavily involved in the criminal underworld of New Greece. He had a network of criminals at his beck and call, and they all paid a debt to continue their business in the form of a charity. Persephone did not know the extent of Hades’ reach, but from what little she knew, he ruled it.

Persephone read on:

Soon, Theseus, the son of an Olympian, found himself leading Triad down a new path—a peaceful path.

“I was horrified at the early history of Triad. The bombs and the shootings. It was barbaric—besides, why not let the gods speak for themselves? I knew it wouldn’t take long for one—or many—to execute their wrath upon the world. I was right.”

In a fit of anger, Persephone threw her tablet. It landed with a crash against the wall and then shattered on the floor. There was silence and then the door opened. Leuce poked her head in.

“Are you okay?”

As the nymph entered, the door hit the tablet she’d thrown. Leuce paused, staring down at it, and then picked it up.

“Helen make you angry?” she asked.

“It’s intentional,” Persephone said. “She is antagonizing me just as Triad attempts to antagonize the gods.”

“You aren’t wrong,” Leuce said, sitting the broken tablet on Persephone’s desk. “Helen does not even know what she believes—she is merely a follower. Somehow, she thought that path lay with Theseus. I have no doubt she will come to regret that decision.”

She would—Persephone would see to that.

“Shall I order you a new tablet?”

“Please,” Persephone said.

“Of course.”

Leuce left, and as she closed the door behind her, Hades appeared in front of it, manifesting in coils of dark smoke. He was exhausted, his face was drawn with shadows that told her he had not slept last night. A pang of guilt hit her square in the chest. He’d probably stayed up agonizing over his actions and her words.

“Do you need something?” she asked.

Hades reached behind him and turned the lock into place.

“We need to talk,” he said.

Persephone pushed away from her desk but remained seated.

“Talk,” she said.

He approached, massive frame practically filling the room, body rigid and she thought he must be angry with her which made her frustrated. It was he who had taken their training too far—and yet, even she realized the value of what Hades had been teaching—no other god would have been merciful.

Hades knelt before her and his hands spread out over her knees.

“I am sorry,” he said, holding her gaze. “I went too far.”

Persephone swallowed and looked away. It was hard to hold his gaze given that all she could recall right now was how he’d looked in death.

“You never told me you had the power to summon fears,” she said, her voice quiet.

“Was there ever a time to speak of it?”

There wasn’t—she knew that. Still, it was part of her desire to know everything about him—the powers he possessed, the charities he maintained, the deals he made.

When she didn’t respond, Hades spoke. “If you will let me, I’d like to train you differently,” he said. “I’ll leave the magic to Hecate and instead I will help you study the powers of the gods.”

Persephone’s brows rose. “You would do that?”

“I would do anything if it meant protecting you,” he said. “And since you will not agree to being locked away in the Underworld, this is the alternative.”

She smiled at him.

“I’m sorry I left,” she said.

“I do not blame you,” he said. “It is not very different from what I did when I took you to Lampri. Sometimes, it’s very hard to exist in the place where you experience terror.”

Persephone swallowed hard. That’s exactly what it had been, and it had all felt so real.

“Are you angry with me?” Hades whispered.

Persephone looked at him again. “No. I know what you were trying to do.”

“I would like to tell you that I will protect you from everyone and everything,” he said. “And I would. I would keep you safe forever within the walls of my realm, but I know what you wish is to protect yourself.”

She nodded, and within his gaze she saw the conflict of his soul. He would have to let her hurt so that she could be powerful.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He smiled faintly, and then her eyes shifted to the copy of New Athens News on her desk, darkening.

“I assume you have already read this,” she said.

“Ilias sent it this morning,” Hades said. “Theseus is playing with fire and he knows it.”

“Do you think Zeus will act?”

Last time Zeus had spoken out against Triad, many Faithful mortals had organized to hunt down its members. The problem was, not every person who identified as Impious was a member of Triad. Still, they were slain.

“I do not know,” he admitted. “I do not think my brother sees Triad as a threat, he does, however, see your mother’s association as dangerous which is why he shifted his focus to her.”

“What will become of her if Zeus can find her?”

“If she ceases her attack upon the Upperworld? Probably nothing.”

Again, she heard Demeter’s voice.

Consequences for gods? No, Daughter, there are none.

“You mean she will get away with the murder of Tyche?”

Hades did not speak.

“She must be punished, Hades.”

“She will be,” he replied. “Eventually.”

“Not only in Tartarus, Hades.”

“In time, Persephone,” Hades said gently, and his touch shifted from her knees to her hands which she had curled into tight fists. “No one—not the gods, certainly not me—will keep you from retribution.”

There was silence, and then Hades rose.

“Come,” he said, slipping his fingers between hers and drawing her to her feet.

Her brows drew together. “Where are we going?”

“I just wanted to kiss you,” he said, bringing his mouth to hers. His magic surfaced, and she felt the familiar pull of teleportation. When they drew apart, they stood in the middle of a clearing in the Upperworld. It was covered in snow and surrounded by thick trees, bent with ice. Still, it was beautiful. When she turned, she found a building—Halcyon. It was still under construction, just a skeleton of the structure it would become, but it was clear it would be magnificent.

“Oh,” Persephone breathed.

“I cannot wait for you to see it in the Spring,” he said. “You will love the gardens.”

“I love it all,” she said. “I love it now.”

She looked at Hades then, at the snow in his hair and on his lashes.

“I love you.”

Hades kissed her before guiding her through the labyrinth that would be Halcyon. The walls were up, the drywall in place. He named each room as if he knew the layout by heart—reception and dining, community and residents’ rooms, and spaces for various types of therapy. Finally, they came to a space on the top floor, after climbing several sets of stairs. It was a large room that overlooked the garden that would be dedicated to Lexa. In the distance, all the way around the room, Persephone could see the misty skyline of New Athens.

It was breathtaking.

“What room is this?” she asked.

“Your office,” Hades said.

“Mine? But I—”

“I have an office at every business I own, why shouldn’t you?” he said. “And even if you do not work here often, we’ll put it to use.”

Persephone laughed, and Hades smiled in return. They stared at one another for a moment. There was a tension between them she wanted to mend—it did not come from their anger or their distance, but from something far more primal. She felt it within her—a pull tied so deep, it made her bones ache.

She shivered.

“We should return,” Hades said.

Still neither of them moved.

“Hades,” Persephone whispered his name, an invitation. In the next second, their mouths collided. Hades pressed into her, his erection hard between her hips as she hit the wall. His hands curled around her wrists as he pinned them beside her head.

“I need you,” he breathed, kissing down her jaw and neck. His hands moved, fingers pressing firmly into her ass, bunching her skirt. Persephone’s breath came fast, fingers fumbling for the buttons of his shirt. She wanted to feel the heat of his skin against hers.

“Stop that!”

Apollo appeared only a few feet away. He looked annoyed, as if he were the one who was interrupted. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a white tunic-style shirt that had a laced V-neck. His curls were unruly and fell playfully against his forehead.

“Go away, Apollo,” Hades growled, still working his way down Persephone’s neck to her collarbone.

“Hades,” her fingers tightened around the lapels of his jacket.

“No-can-do, Lord of the Underworld,” Apollo said. “We have an event.”

Hades sighed—which sounded more like a growl—and pried himself from Persephone. She worked to catch her breath and straightened her skirt and blouse.

“What do you mean we have an event?” she asked.

“Today’s the first of the Panhellenic Games,” he said.

She’d completely forgotten about the games. The chariot races were tonight.

“That isn’t until tonight,” she argued.

“So? I need you now.”

“For what?”

“Does it matter?” He asked. “We have a—”

“Don’t.” Hades snapped, and Apollo shut his mouth. “She asked you a question, Apollo. Answer it.”

Persephone looked at Hades, surprised by his comment.

The god narrowed his violet eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “I fucked up. I need your help,” he admitted, glaring away from them.

“You needed help and yet you wish to command it from her?”

“Hades—”

“He demands your attention, Persephone, has your friendship only because of a bargain and when you needed him before all those Olympians, he was silent.”

“That’s enough, Hades,” Persephone said.

She did not fault Apollo for not speaking up at Council—what was there to say?

“Apollo is my friend, bargain or not. I will speak to him about what bothers me.”

Hades stared at her for a moment and then kissed her again—deeply and far longer than appropriate with an audience. When he pulled away, he said, “I will join you at the games later.”

When he vanished, she turned to Apollo.

“He really doesn’t like you.”

He rolled his eyes.

“That’s nothing new. Come on, I need a drink.”