by Molly Ringle
So bloody vain, Zoe thought with affection. She humored her, letting Niko hold her up in airplane-ride mode. “Big deal,” Zoe said. “I could still throw you across the room anytime I want.”
Niko swung her down and leaped on top of her, straddling her. “Ah, you want to play rough? You know I’m up for it.”
Zoe was stripped to her T-shirt and skivvies too, so the contact was especially erotic. They’d already devoted most of the night to erotic activities, but insatiability was one of those problems about being immortal. Zoe grinned, grabbed Niko’s tank top between the breasts, and pulled her down for a long snog. “It’s morning and you’re still here. I’m surprised. Why aren’t you jumping on a spirit horse and traveling the world, now that you’re free to?”
“I will eventually.” Niko’s voice dropped to a purr. “There are things involving stamina I’m determined to do more of today.”
“Mm. So you’ll leave me later, is what you’re saying.”
“But I always come back. You know that.”
They were in the middle of a deeper snog when their phones buzzed in unison.
Niko stretched out to grab hers from the bedside table. Still draped on top of Zoe, Niko read the message aloud. “It’s Adrian. He says: ‘Hey guys, meet for brunch? By the way, you two seem really close together. You’re not getting each other off, are you?’”
Zoe snorted. “Cheeky sod.”
“I know how to answer this.” Niko’s thumbs tapped against the screen. “’Do. Not. Disturb.’”
“Indeed.” Zoe slid her hands under the waistband of Niko’s shorts, down onto the warm curves of her rear. “But be nice. Add a smiley face.”
“Done.” Niko finished the text, tossed aside the phone, and got back to the important business of pouncing Zoe.
***
Liam let a few weeks pass after becoming immortal, so he could adjust his way of walking and talking and everything to that of a guy around eighteen, rather than his actual fourteen. The fruit had made him grow all the way up in the space of a night, the same way it had done to Hekate once, they told him. He was bigger now for sure, and more handsome, and at least all these memories and crazy experiences had helped him become much smarter. He’d been putting those smarts to use by studying Japanese when the rest of his homework was done.
Finally, on a May day, he jumped a spirit horse and hopped the Pacific, and followed his sense of Amphitrite to a beach on Tokyo Bay.
Five or six girls were there in a group, in their navy and white school uniforms, talking and darting around on the sand. But one sat apart, on a rock, her knees pulled up, showing a flash of skin between dark socks and plaid skirt. Her face was turned down, her sleek dark hair flapping in the wind, and she was poking at a tide pool as if fascinated by it.
Liam took off his shoes and socks, and padded up barefoot on the sand. She lifted her face to him. Their eyes met, and his heart wobbled.
“Konnichiwa,” he said.
***
Curled around Sophie, half-asleep, Adrian let his mind drift to one of his absolute favorite memories. It would never get tiresome, not even if he re-lived it a thousand times.
On the spring equinox, Hades lay with Persephone upon their spread cloaks beneath a canopy of oak trees. Euphoria streamed through him endlessly, like the waterfalls from the mountains, because now he knew Persephone loved him. Demeter’s protective lies had kept them apart, but today the truth had shone out and its light could never be smothered again. Persephone beamed and laughed as if she had just received everything she ever wanted in the world, and to think, it was his words, his caresses, that had bestowed that radiant smile upon her.
Her crown of flowers was falling to pieces. Petals lay scattered on the ground around her head. Hades paused between kisses to gaze at the breathtaking picture she made. “You look like a goddess of spring.” He touched one of the torn narcissus blossoms that still clung to her braids. “Strange match for the king of the dead, people will say.”
“I’m more than some girl playing in the flowers, and you’re more than the Underworld’s king.” Her eyes dancing with happiness, she stroked his cheek with her knuckle. “Besides, neither of us cares what others think.”
“Mm. True.” He kissed the soft underside of her wrist. “We’re better together than apart.”
“We can’t stay apart. See? We tried. Look what happened.”
Hades curled his arm beneath her, cradling her warm, slim body against his. “I won’t make that mistake again. Don’t ever let me go another day without telling you I love you.”
“I won’t. And don’t let me, either.”
Adrian’s drowsy eyes opened, meeting the comfortable dark of the Underworld’s bedchamber. As Sophie slept, he ran his hand down her bare arm, stroking the new muscle that had formed there, savoring the texture of her supple skin, now burnished to perfection by the magic of the immortality fruit.
This same soul, in his arms again. With him in Underworld darkness or Mediterranean sunshine, in New Zealand or the Pacific Northwest.
They were better together, by far.
She stirred, pulling in a deep breath as she awoke.
“I love you, Persephone,” Adrian whispered. “Good morning.”
THE END
AFTERWORD
Well, I did it: not only did I wrap up the trilogy, but I went ahead and told you exactly where the geographic location of the Underworld is. Diros Caves is a real place, as maps and websites can tell you—not one I’ve been to, alas, but one I examined online as closely as I could. It does indeed have historic (and prehistoric) sacred significance, and some folk in the past did reputedly view it as an entrance to the realm of Hades. It even comes complete with an underground river, on which you can take boat tours. That said, I changed up the geology to suit my story, giving it bigger interior caverns and a dramatically vertical and deep entrance that, as far as I can tell, it doesn’t have in real life. I’m sure it doesn’t need to be said for a fantasy series, but settings in this novel are used quite fictitiously indeed, and, in the case of the caves, are also highly altered from their real state.
The volcanic eruption on Thera (present-day Santorini) was also a real occurrence, and I stuck somewhat closer to scientific fact for that. Geology places the eruption at somewhere around 1600 B.C.E., which lines up with where I put it in my story. You can run a web search on it to learn more, if you’re into catastrophic natural disasters.
The story of the young lovers Akis (or Acis) and Galateia (or Galatea) is not properly a Greek myth. It’s from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, and is therefore a Roman myth from many centuries later than Homer and company. It ends tragically, as most love stories in mythology do: a jealous giant (Polyphemus) kills Akis. Twisting the myth as I always like to, I had Thanatos be the mean giant trying to wreck things, and let Akis and Galateia get away to live happily ever after. Incidentally, some may note that Galatea is also the name commonly given to the statue-turned-flesh whom Pygmalion falls in love with. But in ancient texts, Pygmalion’s statue is not given a name. In the 1700s Jean-Jacques Rousseau decided to call it Galatea in his adaptation, and the name stuck.
Eleusis being the son of Hekate and Hermes is actually backed up in at least in some shady corners of Greek mythology. In some sources Eleusis is female, a minor goddess of Eleusinian Mysteries, and in other sources is male, a king of the town of Eleusis. He, or she, is generally called the child of Hermes, with the mother’s name most commonly given as Daeira, an Oceanid nymph. However, awesome sites like Theoi.com tell us that Daeira, whom we don’t know much about, may have been another name for Hekate (or even Persephone). In any case, Hekate and Hermes are paired as “divine consorts” in several mythological analyses, so that part’s not nearly as much of a stretch as some of my inventions in this series. As Hermes says, they make a good match, in their strange way.
- M.J.R.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Finishing a trilogy turned out to be backbreaking, or a
t least sanity-breaking, work, and because of that I must thank my family first and foremost. My husband and kids, my parents and siblings and in-laws: you all had to live with me while I struggled with this story, and yet you’re still here and you still love me. I love you too, and thank goodness we can all be happier now that this achievement is done!
My beta readers are also standing deservedly upon the winners’ podium of awesomeness, so here are the medals I drape around their necks:
Abbie Williams, literally a gold-medal-winning author, and such a sweet and hilarious woman: thank you for your enthused support on this series, and for being there throughout the year to buoy me up in grumpy hours with your happy nature (and photos of hot people for our casting dreams).
Ray Warner, super-smart fan and thoughtful soul, for helping see this trilogy through to the end, and pinpointing what worked and what needed tweaking. As ever, I owe many fabulous “Aha!” moments to your insights.
Dean Mayes, for fitting this into your life between your own writing and other jobs, making sure I was square with Joseph Campbell, and being lovely and patient in every interaction. People like you help defy the myth of the arrogant writer.
Jennifer Pennington, for taking on the manuscript in the same month as your own gosh-darn wedding: I’m amazed and humbled you could turn in such logical thoughts in the midst of that madness. Thank you for catching several errors and unanswered questions for me, and felicitations to you newlyweds!
Melanie Carey, for congenially stepping in and accepting this daunting job, and hitting it out of the park: thank you for not only all the thoughts on scenes and characters, which helped me gauge whether I wrote them right, but for all the in-person gab sessions too, which always make me feel grounded and validated. Even we sensitive-hermit-writer types need that from time to time.
Beth Willis, for loving this crazy series for years and years now: thank you for giving honest gut reactions to these various characters and scenarios, and amusing the hell out of me while doing so. Rock on! (Which I mean literally, since you’re a rock musician and all.)
This series wouldn’t be what it is without Michelle Halket, my editor: you go so far above and beyond for your authors that you’re currently somewhere in the stratosphere. I don’t know how you find time in the day to take care of it all, but thank you for making that magic happen, and for being so cheerful and encouraging throughout this arduous process. I know you’ll keep taking us farther yet!
I also must thank my friend Tracy Erickson, who one day piped up to say he’d like to have his name used for a character. Good guy or bad guy?, I asked. He chose the path of evil, and thus was christened Erick Tracy. Our actual real-world Tracy, of course, is not evil or slimy; he is cool and delightful and a great supporter of fantasy authors, and I’m glad to know him.
Thanks as well to Felicia Simion, amazingly talented young photographer, whose photo of the couple in the grass seized my heart and Michelle’s when we saw it. Getting to use the shot for this book’s cover made me downright blissful.
Bibliographically speaking, I continue to owe thanks to the fabulously compiled Theoi.com website, to Walter Burkert’s Greek Religion, and to the beautifully illustrated D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Mythology, where the inspiration for this series all started back when I was a kid.
And even though I’ve pulled back from Facebook this year, I do keep the author page running and have been delighted at the growing number of fans and interactions there, as well as on other sites. So if you’ve ever reviewed my work, emailed me, Tweeted me, left a comment for me, or otherwise gotten in touch, this bouquet of Underworld flowers is for you! Keep the correspondence going. It makes the world a better place.
Other Books by Molly Ringle
The Ghost Downstairs
Summer Term
What Scotland Taught Me
Relatively Honest
***
Persephone’s Orchard
Underworld’s Daughter
Table of Contents
Copyright © 2016 Molly Ringle
Immortal’s Spring
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Epilogue
Afterword
Acknowledgments
Other Books by Molly Ringle
