Summer Queen

by Amelia Wilde

  “We need more information.”

  “What matters is that I crossed a line with Zeus.” Damn it, he’s rubbing off on me. I find myself in front of the same window Oliver had been looking out of. “Because he crossed the fucking line with me. It’s always been a tacit agreement of ours that we don’t settle scores using law enforcement. There’s no telling what he might do.”

  “Buy his way out,” Oliver guesses. “Why wouldn’t he?”

  “There’s a prosecutor in the city who could complicate that for him.” The name of the prosecutor was the last news to reach me out of the city. Oliver’s correct—it seems like the whole place has been leveled. And since I’m not the one who did that, it must have been Zeus.

  I watch the rain on the glass until Conor gets up from his bed and comes to my side. His tail flaps onto the floor in a quick heartbeat rhythm. The sound, light as it is, drills into my brain. I’m trying to ration the pills for the inevitable disaster. Rationing doesn’t work out nearly as well when I have to light up the diamond mines. The people down there take the dark as an excuse to go wild with the least provocation. How quickly they forget what I’ve given them.

  “It’s rain, Conor. It’s nothing. Go back to bed.”

  Conor inches closer to my leg. It has no urgency to it. The dog wants to be close, not get me out of the room, though if this conversation goes on much longer he’ll start to insist. This need for closeness isn’t altogether unexpected. No one, including me, has been able to convince him to rest and relax. He was shot, and he will not recuperate nicely in his bed except for during the night. It must mean he’s healing.

  “What should we do?” Oliver’s reflection moves back and forth in a smaller area. “How the hell do we prepare? They’re not going to wait forever.”

  “What’s your read on the situation, then?” This is part of his tenure here. He’s not going to be empty muscle—I have enough of that at my disposal. If Oliver is going to pace around in my private quarters when I’d rather be fucking Persephone then he needs to have something to bring to the table.

  “That Zeus and Demeter are planning something.”

  I think of that circle I drew around the marks of our properties. My mountain has always been the anchor, the linchpin. Is it still true if Zeus has sat for a comparatively small amount of time in a federal prison? He has enough friends that he should be able to weasel himself out eventually. On the other hand—the prosecutor.

  “Zeus and Demeter make lots of plans. Almost none of them concern me.”

  Oliver throws a look at me. He must not know I can see him. “You crossed a line. You said it yourself. Even if you were justified, it happened.”

  “And I can’t un-cross it. I can’t un-send federal agents into his illegal whorehouse. It’s not my fault our father trafficked in businesses on the wrong side of the law.” I stroke Conor’s head. “We’re beyond that now. I wouldn’t undo it if I could, not when it meant getting Persephone back. If you don’t have a plausible suggestion, then leave me in peace.”

  “You should shut down the train.”

  That, and only that, makes me turn away from the window to see if he’s kidding. It’s impossible to know for sure with all the rain.

  Oliver’s serious.

  He stands in the center of the room with his chin slightly raised, hands in his pockets. When I first met him, the act of looking at him would send him into a defensive crouch. He was so ready for life to lay him out flat that he started seeking out situations where that would be the only possible result. He’s come a long way, the crazy bastard.

  “Do you know what you’re asking?”

  “You’ll buy yourself some time.”

  “That’s not how it will play out.”

  Shutting down the train is easy in theory and disastrous in practice. The train is what supplies the mountain with all the things necessary to feed and clothe the people who work here permanently. Of all of them, I’m the most insulated—I have stores of everything I need.

  Almost everything. But whether I shut down the train or not, the fact that I’ve taken Persephone is going to be a bigger problem in sixteen days, give or take. It’s a fact I’ve been conveniently ignoring. It’s easier to ignore when there are willing distractions waiting in my bedroom.

  “There are private cars, Oliver. They could fly if they wanted to.” This hypothetical includes Zeus and Demeter and whoever else they choose to bring with them—if that’s really what happens. The two of them coming alone would be a waste of time and energy. I’d sooner barricade the mountain than let them step foot here.

  “But they’re not going to fly,” Oliver insists. “They’re gathering an army.”

  “An army.” I look at him long enough that most people would look away, but he doesn’t. “You think my foolish fuck of a brother has managed to hire an army from federal prison?”

  “Is he in federal prison?”

  “I assume so. But even if he’s not, he’ll have limited access while he’s under investigation.” Someone will have to investigate him, probably that prosecutor. It will take some time. Oliver’s fear isn’t justified for the moment.

  “I think you should stop the trains. That’s what I think.” He rubs a hand over the back of his head. Conor pushes at my leg. It’s time to go. “Obviously I’ll defend this place no matter what you decide.”

  “Good. Wake me if there’s another problem in the mines.”

  “I will.” He’s lying—he won’t. We both know that he’ll settle things himself or lock the troublemakers in until I’m available in the morning. Oliver only disturbs me at night when there’s a real need. He goes out through the door and locks it behind him. I had that system installed the last time Demeter’s crops went bad and I pressed my luck with some floodlights down in the mines.

  “Bed, Conor.” He darts ahead of me, anxious to get to the bedroom. My skin feels raw tonight. If Oliver is right, then acting sooner will help us. Causing unrest in the diamond mines, however, will not help anyone—and if that unrest spills over to the rest of the mountain, Persephone could be at risk. I can’t fucking stand the thought.

  A shadow comes out from my office.

  A shadow shaped curiously like Persephone.

  My hand goes to my belt. “What the fuck were you doing in there?”

  Conor stops at the end of the hall and circles back to her.

  “I wasn’t doing anything.” She twists at the hem of her nightgown, a gauzy white thing that I had put in the closet because it will rip apart without hurting her. “I learned my lesson on that one.”

  “I’m not blind, Persephone. I can see you coming out of that room. You are forbidden to go in there.”

  “I think technically you just said not to go through your desk,” she tries, eyes darting from one end of the hall to the other. Where does she think she’s going to go? “But I wasn’t doing that. I swear, I wasn’t. I—I wasn’t doing anything wrong.” Persephone plants her feet, eyes flashing, and it breaks me. She won’t fucking forget this. She will not.

  I make it two full steps before Conor leaps in front of her, baring his teeth. Growling. Conor snaps at me, his ears back.

  After growing up with my father I assured myself there were no surprises left. I’m not used to the intensity of shock. My own fucking dog, growling at me. He’s ready to bite me. For her.

  I step back. “Damn it, Conor.”

  Conor watches me, sharp teeth a warning in the light coming off Persephone’s nightgown.

  I put my hands down by my sides, palms out. “Fine.” My own dog. Is there no one left who won’t betray me? Christ. “I told you to protect her. Good boy.”

  A snap of my fingers brings him back to me, a hitch in his step. This dog. He thinks he can get away with murder. He obviously doesn’t know that I’m the only one capable of that kind of killing. I spend perhaps longer than necessary petting Conor’s head and scratching between his ears. I can’t have a dog that won’t protect her at any cost
. Conor’s already proven that. But I’ll be damned if my own fucking dog thinks I’m a threat.

  I am, of course, a threat. He’s right about that. But not in that way. Not for Persephone.

  When I look up from the dog I find Persephone still standing in the middle of the hallway, watching me intently. Her hair looks windblown. It’s a beautiful mess. The sight of it scrabbles at my ribs and squeezes my heart in its fist. The siren song of telling secrets gestures to me from open water, looking at her. And in the same moment, I know I never can. Persephone spends all her time trying to find the truth. I can’t fuck or punish that desire out of her, sadly for her. The truth is a razor. It can slice open your skin and bleed you out before you have time to be afraid. In my experience, the truth means a slow, hollow death.

  And she is not a creature of death. She belongs in green fields. In sunshine. The hem of her dress lifts as if caught by an unseen breeze. A vision of a clear blue sky appears in my memory, and when I look at her it doesn’t hurt at all.

  I shake myself out of it. Fuck—my grasp on this day is slipping.

  “Explain yourself.” She bites her lip. “Before I change my mind.”

  “I was bringing you flowers,” she says.

  21

  Persephone

  It rains for almost a week before the sun comes back out. I can sense it behind the windows, and when I wake up without Hades I know it’s time to go see Eleanor. Rainy day visits are possible, but...wet. And cold. The one time I tried it he made me go without clothes for the rest of the day to appreciate the warmth. And other things. There are always other things. Oliver, tastefully, stayed away on that day.

  I roll over and stretch in the bed, my hand knocking against something else on his pillow. A jewelry box with an intricate diamond pattern.

  I pull the small chest onto my lap. The diamonds form the shape of the sun.

  The sun—that’s for me. The rest of the box—a matte surface, deep black—is for him. It matches his bedroom. It’s something for me to keep in his bedroom.

  I don’t need a jewelry box for one bracelet and the few other pieces he’s given me. This is a plan. For a future.

  My breath catches at the thought of it. I choose a spot in the closet for the box and keep the bracelet on. But before I leave, I make a detour into the guest bedroom. The necklaces he gave me are where I left them a century ago, on a small shelf next to the bed. The new box is the perfect home for them. I’m pretty sure this is what swooning feels like, but I can’t stand in his closet for the rest of the day. I need to go out.

  A run across the field makes my heart beat fast and strong. I can only hope that Hades isn’t watching. He’d be pissed if I broke an ankle. God knows what he’d do if that happened. I’m curious. I can’t say I’m not. But a broken bone seems like too high a price, even for me. Still, I jog up to the door of Eleanor’s house and knock.

  No answer.

  She must be in the back, tending her plants. I open the door and kick my shoes off at the mat. It feels strangely very good to kick my shoes off on a cheery doormat. That’s not my life now, but this part of it still is. The mat is, and the new sandals are. They’re ugly leather things and Hades had them sent here so I don’t track dirt through Eleanor’s house. I slip into them and go back to her growing room.

  Eleanor’s looking closely into one of the planter’s at the back. “It finally stopped raining,” she says. “I’m glad. I missed you.”

  I put my hand over my heart and bask in the simple kindness of her missing me. There are no strings attached when Eleanor misses me. Can you imagine? “I missed you, too. How are the flowers?”

  “You’re a miracle girl,” she says, only a little ruefully. “I can’t believe you got those other ones to bloom. What did Luther think?”

  Hades thought they were worth a dangerously hard fuck that make me sleep through half the morning. I managed not to tell him that I looked in one single drawer in his desk. The papers were gone. None of this is appropriate conversation for Eleanor. “He liked them.”

  “Good. Good. I’m hopeful about these ones, here. They might last longer inside the house.” She claps her hands together. “I need to gather some plants today. Are you interested in a walk?”

  We go back out in the sun, baskets in our hand, and I’m living in a complete fantasy. Eleanor, the white clouds, the green grass...and the flowers. Remember this, I think as I pick them next to her. She asks me idle questions on our way down to the ravine and across to the other side of the valley. I get so caught up in the feel of the grass—cold stalks, warm earth—that I miss the first part of her question. It has to do with plans.

  “My only plan has been to visit the New York Public Library. But now I’m not sure how that would work out.”

  “It’s a public library, dear one. You simply travel there and walk in during regular business hours, like all libraries.”

  Eleanor pauses, going through her basket and rearranging the flowers.

  “Right, but...” But my vision of the New York Public Library isn’t the same as it used to be. Now it includes standing there with Hades, which means standing there with Conor. I can’t think of a single scenario where Hades would let me walk into an enormous building in New York City by myself. “If we went...” It’s a good thing there’s plenty to look at out here. We makes my face hotter than a sunburn. “If we went, then Hades would want to take Conor. He always has his dog with him. Almost always, unless Conor stays with me.”

  Eleanor raises her eyebrows. “He leaves his dog with you? Alone?”

  “Yes,” I say brightly, but I feel like the ground is unsteady now, the angle of the ravine too steep. I don’t normally talk about Hades—not with anyone except Oliver, and then only to find out where he’s gone while I’m asleep. It’s too tempting not to talk about this. “He seems very...attached...to Conor.” Eleanor nods slowly through this, which gives me the courage to go on. “It’s almost like he helps him. With his eyes.”

  She laughs. “Your face is so red. It’s not a secret, Persephone.”

  “He never talks about it.”

  “Of course not.” Eleanor is so casual about this that I fall silent for a while and concentrate on picking flowers. Of course not? That doesn’t sound good. “That doesn’t change the fact that the dog has a sixth sense. He can warn Luther when he’s going to have an attack.”

  I try to pretend I’ve been distracted, half-listening, but my heartbeat is so loud in my ears that I doubt I’m pulling it off. “An attack?”

  Because...no. A man like Hades is not susceptible to weakness. He hates weakness. He’d rather die than admit there was any soft part of him. This cannot be true.

  Eleanor looks at me meaningfully. “I’m sure you’ve seen it.”

  “No, I—I guess not.”

  She clicks her tongue. “Sooner or later.”

  That leaves a gnawing pit in my stomach. What does she mean, an attack? What would that look like? What would happen? He took an unbelievable risk coming into the city to get me, I realize between heartbeats. And if my mother’s the one who makes the pills he needs, then...then he’s really screwed. There’s no other way to put it. She likes her revenge. My mother has dishtowels with poppies on them but she should have a hand-lettered sign that says an eye for an eye.

  I choose flowers at random, no longer really seeing them. My lungs feel half-functioning. My lips go next. We need to change the topic to anything else, and fast.

  Nothing comes to mind. Hades is my new center of gravity, and even when he’s not here, he pulls me toward him.

  “He seems worried about Conor, in a way.” Dogs. We can talk about dogs. Pets are a safe topic, as long as we avoid the fact that Conor was very recently shot. “Hades is always watching him. It’s safe in the mountain, though. Nothing else is going to happen to Conor.”

  “Yes, well, that’s an old fear of his. Justified, too. What do you think of this bloom?” Eleanor holds up a blue flower.

  “T
he petals look a little off to me.” She agrees and throws it back into the ravine. “He’s afraid of his pets dying? All pets die, though, surely...surely he’d be prepared for that.” I search my memory for a time when I believed that pets would be invincible. If I did, I can’t remember it. “We had dogs at my mother’s house. Cats, too. They all die eventually.”

  I flinch, hiding it by bending to pick a perfect purple flower near my toes. They all die eventually. It’s not so strange for people to love their pets. It’s only strange for Hades. And here I am, digging into his past with fingernails out. The more I get of him, the more I want.

  “I’m sure they did.” Eleanor stops and looks up at the clouds. “But your mother didn’t kill them herself, did she?”

  I couldn’t be more mortified and more heartbroken than if she’d stripped off all my clothes right here and left me to run home in the stiff breeze. Eleanor would never do that—she never would. But I’ve finally done it. I went too far. I’m the idiot who goes stomping around in a battlefield and acts surprised when her foot gets blown off.

  “No, she didn’t. Who—” I can’t get to the end of the question without dissolving into tears.

  “His father did. Whenever they’d fight.” Eleanor reaches up and toys with the collar of her thick cotton shirt. Her eyes have gone far away, the blue of the sky reflected there. “He was always so hopeful that one would work out. That he could hide them long enough, or—” She swallows and waves it down. “It never did work out, of course. Not until that man finally died.”

  Died—or was killed? I don’t want to know. Whatever Hades did to him, whatever happened to him, he deserved it.

  On the way back to Eleanor’s house I try, mostly unsuccessfully, to get rid of the deep ache in my chest, in my belly. It hurts to understand him. God, it hurts. He must feel so wretched and broken. He must think he has to hide everything good about himself. Or maybe it’s too late for him to tell the difference. This is no sunny field on a summer day. This is a lifetime of anguish.