Corrupted: A Hades and Persephone Romance

by Bella Klaus

  “Dami?” I whispered.

  Two sets of ears twitched. Macavity raised his front paw over his eyes in a feline Do Not Disturb.

  “Sorry to wake you both,” I murmured. “But I’m going to Hell.”

  Dami cracked open an eye and stared out at me through a slitted green pupil. “Meow?”

  Heat rushed to my cheeks. She probably remembered our long conversation from yesterday, where I poured out my heart about how I wouldn’t forgive Hades for being so untrustworthy. Now, less than half a day later, I was running toward him.

  “I know,” I said with an embarrassed wince. “I was supposed to wait until he was sorry, but he came to me last night in a dream.”

  Dami raised herself up onto her front paws and yawned. I stepped back, my chest tightening at having disturbed her well-earned rest. She’d been up early yesterday, organizing our housewarming, and had stayed up late to supervise the clean up. And she was still recovering from being held prisoner by the coven.

  As she padded across the mattress, I lowered myself onto my knees so we could look into each other’s eyes.

  “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. It could be ten minutes, or it could be days, but will you take care of the apartment?”

  She nodded with an enthusiastic meow.

  I gave her a pat on the back and a kiss on the tip of her pink nose before rising to my feet and heading for the door.

  “Meow?” she said from behind me.

  With one last glance over my shoulder, I gave her a sharp nod. “Yes, I’ll be careful.”

  After a long shower, where I practiced everything I would say to Hades and swore to myself that I would return to London if he didn’t grovel at my feet, I stepped into the dressing room. Everything I bought was either too sexy or too casual for a confrontation with a Demon King, so I selected a pair of jeans, a tank top, and a shirt from Grace Van Oberon.

  When I stepped out of the bathroom and got dressed, the elevator was waiting for me in my bedroom, ringing like the bell of an old-fashioned bicycle.

  “Bloody hell, do you have to be so impatient?” I snapped. “It’s not like I made you any promises. Besides, you told me I was having a dream.”

  The doors pinged open, and I stepped into its interior. Today, the three-headed dogs etched into the brass stared at me through half-lidded eyes. I glared at them, daring them to move, but the elevator hurtled downward before it even got a chance to open its doors.

  My stomach lurched, and I resisted the urge to scream. Bracing my back on the corner of the square space, I pressed my palms into the walls to lessen the impact. The elevator shook as it descended, picking up speed, making me think it would land with a crash.

  “Slow down,” I screamed.

  It drifted downward like a dandelion seed in the wind.

  I clenched my teeth, not daring to release the walls. The wretched thing would probably start plummeting again if I lowered my guard.

  An eternity later, the elevator stopped, and the doors opened with a gentle hiss. I clenched my fists, ready to launch myself at Hades, when Captain Caria stepped into view.

  “Your Majesty.” She bowed her head.

  I glanced over my shoulder for signs of the Demon King, when I found none, I turned back to her. “Are you talking to me?”

  “You’re the Queen of the Fifth.” Captain Caria inclined her head. Today, she wore the same form-fitting red armor I’d seen on Hades the day we fought the soulkin. A slimline helmet in the same color adorned her head, making her look like a warrior goddess.

  “Please accept my apology for withholding information from you about Persephone,” she said.

  I stepped out of the elevator and into a marble hallway devoid of windows or paintings or statues. Flaming torches provided dim light, giving the impression that this was the more ancient part of the palace… Or the walkway to the dungeons.

  “Why didn’t you tell me what was really going on?” I asked.

  She pursed her lips and turned on her heel, and took long strides away from the elevator. “My loyalty is to His Majesty.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But you still could have dropped a few hints.”

  “He was so convinced that you were Persephone’s other half that I also started to hope.”

  This was probably the time I should admit to being Persephone… But I wasn’t. Not really. At least not according to Madam Lorraine. She had said I was a brand new goddess who came into being a few centuries ago.

  Calling myself Persephone at this stage would be like a cake calling itself flour. Persephone was only one of the ingredients that made up my soul. I blew out a long breath. Maybe I was fooling myself, and I wasn’t prepared to accept the fact that I was an ancient goddess with no memory of her husband and child.

  “And how does he feel now?” I asked.

  She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “You will have to ask His Majesty about his innermost thoughts. He rarely shares them with me.”

  “So what can you tell me?” I asked.

  “We found Persephone’s head washed up in Alexandria a month after the Great Divide,” she said. “It took us about a century to locate her other body parts.”

  “Wouldn’t she have been dead?”

  She shook her head. “Gods can survive most injuries, even decapitation.”

  I was about to ask her how to kill a god, but she continued. “For the first few centuries, we kept her parts in a stone sarcophagus while she healed from her injuries. As magical advancements progressed, we reversed all the damage to her body and moved her to a glass coffin.”

  “But didn’t she wake?” I asked.

  She nodded. “She could breathe, swallow, and perform most bodily functions, but she never once showed signs of higher life.”

  “Why are you telling me this now?”

  Captain Caria paused to exhale a long-suffering sigh. The kind of controlled exasperation Pirithous used to display when I was younger and thought I could sway him with tantrums and tears. “His Majesty should be divulging this information, but he’s not the most rational of beings when it comes to Persephone.”

  I nodded. “Where is he?”

  “The inner sanctum.” She stopped outside a door and pushed it open to reveal a circular room of tall pillars with a pool recessed into the marble floor. This was where he had put me the time I had watched Hades confront Samael’s avatar in his throne room.

  Hades stepped out from behind a pillar, clad in red armor with the raised serpent design. “Thank you, Captain, I will take it from here.”

  Inclining her head, she stepped away, leaving me staring at my sort-of husband.

  “Aren’t you going to come inside?” He swept his arm toward the room’s stony interior.

  I placed my hands on my hips. “Explain what last night was all about?”

  His brows rose. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Don’t try to play innocent.” I strode into the room, casting him my hardest glare. “If last night on the greenhouse floor had been a dream or a figment of my imagination, you wouldn’t have sent the elevator to my apartment.”

  He rubbed his chin and frowned. “You now have more than enough power to summon it with a thought.”

  “And Captain Caria?” I waved in the direction of the closed door. “How did she know to wait for me in the hallway?”

  “Our magic has melded,” he said, sounding perfectly reasonable. “You also have the power to send messages directly to our subordinates.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Can’t you just admit that you infiltrated my dream and promised me an apology?”

  “Try it,” he said.

  “Captain Caria?” I whispered into my mind.

  “Yes, Your Majesty?” she replied, sounding thoroughly irritated.

  “Umm…” My mind went blank for several heartbeats. “Did I summon you this morning?”

  “If His Majesty is attempting to make you believe that whatever brought you to his domain was your idea, let m
e assure you that it was not. Keep pressing, and he’ll drop the facade of obliviousness.”

  “So?” Hades asked. “Did you speak to her?”

  “You haven’t changed one bit.” I turned on my heel and headed toward the door.

  He grabbed my arm. “Kora, please wait.”

  “Why?” I yanked my arm out of his grip, giving him my filthiest glower. “So you can gaslight me again?”

  Hades dropped to his knees, clasping his hands together. “Alright.”

  “Alright what?” I glowered down at him through narrowed eyes.

  “I lied. Lied about Persephone being alive. Lied about not having anything to apologize about and lied about not hijacking your dream.”

  “What else?” I asked.

  He swallowed. “That covers most of it.”

  My eyes flashed. “Anything else?”

  His brows drew together. “You want me to say I’m sorry.”

  I rolled my eyes. “One,” I said into the mind link he was clearly ignoring. “Two—”

  “Kora,” he replied. “What are you doing?”

  “Giving myself a countdown until I walk out of here and never see you again. Threefourfive.”

  He spluttered. “What?”

  “Six.” I stepped backward.

  Hades grabbed my calf, saying out loud, “You want an apology?”

  “Seven.” I reached down and freed myself from his grip. “Eight.”

  “I’m sorry,” he blurted.

  “What for?” I folded my arms across my chest and scowled.

  “Where do I start?” He lowered his gaze to my feet. “I seduced you under false pretenses, embarrassed you in front of my colleagues in the Supernatural Council. I didn’t tell you I was in possession of Persephone’s body.”

  Hades inhaled a deep breath. “And I’m sorry for the desperate attempts I made at avoiding an apology.”

  “Why don’t you ever tell the truth?” I asked.

  “Because I can get away with falsehoods?” he said.

  Frustration welled through my insides, and I clenched my teeth. “Last night, I opened up to you and said how much I hated liars. When I did it, it was for survival, but you’re so powerful, and you’re free to do whatever you want.” I shook my head. “What’s the point of making things up, when you can tell the truth with zero consequences?”

  “Alright.” He raised his palm. “I’ll tell you.”

  I folded my arms across my chest. If he spewed any more of his bullshit, I would kick him in the crotch and call the elevator.

  “Life in Hell is a hundred times more complicated than managing the Underworld,” he said, his voice solemn. “Before the Great Divide, I was a powerful god, served by lesser deities who all respected my authority. Here, most of my employees are beings of evil who would slip a dagger in my back if that would give them an advantage.”

  I sucked in a deep breath. This had to be because of the Great Divide, which had broken up all the realms, incorporated parts of it to Heaven and parts to Hell. It had forced gods of death and other powerful beings to become custodians of the Factions.

  My mind whirred as I tried to imagine what it would be like to live among so many demons and sinners, but a shudder ran down my spine. “That still doesn’t explain why you lied to me.”

  “You’re right.” He shook his head, seeming to try to clear his thoughts. “I’m so accustomed to thinking ten steps ahead of people that it’s hard to live in the moment and just say what’s on my mind.”

  “Go on,” I said.

  “In Hell, missteps or misspoken words are deadly.”

  I placed my palm on my chest. “And you lied to me even though I’m not a demon?”

  “It’s been so long since I’ve had a soulmate that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be authentic.” He took my free hand and massaged it between his large fingers. “A verbal apology doesn’t begin to express my regret. But I will show you with actions and not words that I can do better.”

  I pulled out from his hold. “That’s not good enough—”

  Someone’s scream cut off my words, and I turned my gaze to the pool. Its surface depicted a rooftop greenhouse, similar to the one Hades had gifted me the night before, except this one was filled with lush plants that rivaled those in Persephone’s garden.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “This is from the night of the Devil’s Ball.” He turned toward the liquid. “I was just watching it for clues about Persephone’s resurrection.”

  Hideous-looking plants filled the entire space, blocking everything else from view. “Can you rewind the footage?”

  Hades rose to his feet and placed an arm around my back. “What do you want to see?”

  “Where did you put Persephone’s glass coffin?” I asked.

  He wiggled his fingers, making the liquid’s surface ripple. When it calmed, it depicted the same greenhouse again from a distance, but with a Snow-White-style coffin laid atop a plinth among the evenly spaced flowerbeds.

  The coffin was tunnel-shaped and tall enough for her to sit up without bumping her head. Persephone lay on a dark green pillow with a garland of flowers around her head, and beneath that was a soft-looking mattress. Its base was transparent, etched with characters I didn’t recognize but in a configuration that I guessed was magical.

  Persephone wore a white gown, fastened up to the base of her neck. It blended with pale skin and contrasted with her vibrant red hair.

  “Here she is,” Hades murmured.

  I leaned closer toward the pool and squinted. “Is there a way to get a close up?”

  “There is,” he replied, his words hesitant. “But you should watch it from a distance first.”

  I raised a shoulder. As long as he was happy to keep rewinding and zooming in, I really didn’t mind which order I watched the events of Persephone’s resurrection.

  A white-haired figure limped into the frame, her neck and chest covered in bandages. She carried a stack of white towels in her outstretched hand, which wobbled as she approached the coffin.

  “What was Minthe doing there?” I asked with a scowl. “Why wasn’t she regenerating in the bath where we’d left her? And weren’t those water nymphs supposed to be helping her heal?”

  “She’s somewhat of a workaholic,” Hades muttered.

  Another person who had known for sure that Persephone was alive, yet she hadn’t so much as dropped a hint.

  I rubbed at my temples, wondering if Minthe was the most unlucky creature in the realms. The water nymph walked across the greenhouse, pausing to pick up a small towel that had fallen from her stack.

  “What’s she doing?” I asked.

  “It’s likely that she came to give Persephone a bath,” Hades replied. “Minthe is responsible for tending to her needs and making sure she gets a few hours out of her coffin each day.”

  “Couldn’t you have put her in a bed?” I asked.

  Hades shook his head. “We tried so many combinations over the centuries, including putting her directly in the earth. The plants seemed to make the color return to her cheeks, and at times, it almost seemed like she could awaken with a kiss.”

  “Have you spoken to Minthe since Persephone awoke?”

  Hades shook his head. “She is missing.”

  Turning back to the pool, I held my breath and waited to see what would happen next. Minthe approached the coffin, and with a flick of her wrist, she lifted off its glass top and placed it atop the flowerbeds. Then she turned her back to Persephone and laid the towels on the lid.

  “I believe this is when you drank that shot of power,” Hades said. “My theory is that some of its effects bypassed you and went straight to Persephone, who needed it the most.”

  “Which explains my delayed reaction?” I asked.

  Hades nodded.

  Persephone’s eyes snapped open, glowing a vibrant green, but Minthe was too busy messing with the towels to notice.

  My stomach clenched with a tight fist
of dread, and I wanted to shout a warning to the screen, just like I used to do at home with Netflix. The plants beneath the coffin lengthened, thickened, and wrapped around Minthe’s legs like constrictors.

  She screamed, her gaze falling to Persephone, but the other woman stared up at the sky with a blank expression before sitting upright in her coffin. I gulped. It was like watching a zombie or Frankenstein’s monster trying to make its first movements.

  Minthe thrashed and clawed at the plants as they coiled around her hips and up to her chest. In her panic, chunks of water fell off her cascade of white hair. I placed a hand over my mouth to suppress a scream.

  “Somebody, help—” Minthe’s words were cut off by a plant entering her mouth.

  I turned to Hades, my heart pounding. “She’s a water nymph. Can’t she turn to liquid and escape?”

  “What do plants require to thrive?” he asked.

  The hand over my mouth slid down to my chest which shook so hard I thought something would shatter. Watching Persephone’s plants engulf someone was worse than experiencing them in real life. The only defense Minthe had was her ability to curl into a tight ball, but the plants had stolen that from her by snaking around her body until there was nothing left of her but an outline.

  Green buds sprouted across the vines that had engulfed Minthe, and more of the monstrous plants seeped into the coffin. They split into thin tendrils that slithered beneath Persephone’s nightgown, wrapped around her arms, her legs, and even her neck.

  My throat spasmed. “What are they doing?”

  “It’s hard to tell if the plants are feeding her, or she’s feeding them, or if having fed on Minthe, they’re helping her escape,” Hades said. “Either way, both Persephone and her creations now have access to the immense bank of power you consumed at the Devil’s Ball.”

  For the next few heartbeats, we watched the rest of the scene play out in silence. The plants tore away Persephone’s nightgown and increased their bulk enough to break through the coffin’s bottom half and shred her flesh.

  Her wounds closed, but not before the plants soaked up her blood. I shuddered at the sight, wondering if that was how she had developed them to be so carnivorous.

  Next, the plants lengthened, thickened, forming a massive tent around her surroundings until all we could see were vines the size of tree trunks.