Goddess Interrupted

by Aimee Carter

  From one of the afterlives we’d walked through? It had to be. But I’d stuck my hands in my pockets in the woods before Cronus had chased us, and it hadn’t been there then.

  Had I simply not noticed it? That was the only explanation.

  Or maybe I was too dazed to think straight.

  Tucking it back into the safety of my pocket beside the quartz-and-pearl f lower from Henry, I combed my hair out with my f ingers and said shakily, “What did you two—

  what did you see?”

  Wordlessly Ava offered me a hair tie, and I took it. It was bright pink. “We saw Cronus eat you.”

  “You were engulfed,” said James, and he hesitated. “We thought you were gone.”

  I stared into the clear pool. My ref lection stared back at me, and I leaned forward to splash some water onto my grimy face. I was a mess. “Me, too,” I mumbled as I rubbed off the dirt.

  “So why didn’t he kill you?” said Ava. She held a coconut in her hand, and a second later, a neon-pink curly straw appeared from inside of it. She sipped it, and I could see the milk rise through the swirls.

  I didn’t answer right away. I had to tell them the truth, but they weren’t stupid. They would see what I planned to do, and if James and Ava thought I was so much as considering sacrif icing myself, they would march me right back to the palace.

  I needed James to f ind Persephone, and he would only show me how to get there if he thought he would be showing me the way home, too. That left only one option.

  Avoiding the whole truth.

  “Because I told him I’d open the gate if he didn’t hurt us,” I said.

  James stilled, and Ava dropped her coconut. “You did what? ” she screeched. “Are you crazy? Do you have any idea what that means? When you don’t release him, he’s going to kill you. You do know that, right?”

  I nodded numbly. “So I guess that means we have a limited amount of time to come up with another plan.” Ava let out a string of curses and stood, pacing around the pool. “We can’t let him out. Even if he kills all of us, it’ll be better than what he’ll do the minute he gets out into the world. You know that, Kate.”

  “Of course I know that,” I snapped. “But what else was I supposed to do? He was going to kill all three of us, and everyone else is too busy being scared to come after us if something went wrong.”

  “You should’ve done something else. Anything else.” Ava’s face turned red, and she balled up her hands into f ists.

  I’d never seen her so angry before. “You don’t understand—

  we can’t let him out. We can’t.”

  “Then we won’t,” said James. He gestured for Ava to sit back down, and she stood there for a moment, as if daring him to make her, but f inally her shoulders slumped and she gave in. “You did good, Kate. You bought us time.” At least James understood. “I’m sorry,” I said to Ava as I tugged up my sleeves. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “It’s all right,” she mumbled, and she picked up her coconut again to take a half hearted sip. “It’s not like we had a better plan.”

  “We do have a better plan,” said James. “Find Persephone and f igure it out from there. If anyone can help, it’s her.” Ava made a face, apparently as happy with the thought of the fate of the universe resting in Persephone’s hands as I was. “At least we don’t have to worry about Cronus until we get there, I guess.”

  “Exactly. And we don’t know how to open the gate either, so it doesn’t matter what Kate promised him to get him off our backs. We’ll f igure a way out of this.” James offered us a smile, and she returned it, but I looked at my hands.

  Cronus was growing stronger by the minute, and no one, not even Henry or Walter, could possibly win against that kind of impossible power. If he stuck to our deal and let the others go, then unless I wanted to see him slaughter everyone I loved, I would have no choice but to open the gate.

  All I had to do in the meantime was convince Persephone to tell me how.

  Hours after we left the oasis, I found a second f lower, bubblegum spotted with blue, waiting for me on a fallen tree as I sat down to rest. At f irst the log was empty, but when I lowered myself down, my f ingertips brushed the silky petals.

  It couldn’t possibly be a coincidence, but who would be leaving me presents? Henry? I clung to that hope, but he was unconscious. The chances of it being him were slim.

  And then my eyes fell on James, and I scowled.

  “What?” he said as he leaned against a tree. I held up the blossom, and he arched his eyebrows. “Colorful. Where’d you get it?”

  “It was sitting here waiting for me,” I said, but he shrugged indifferently. It wasn’t from him after all. For all he cared, we could’ve been talking about a dead leaf.

  Henry, then. I warmed at the thought. He must’ve been able to see me in the cavern after all, or maybe he’d f igured out what we were doing. Maybe he was trying to tell me that he was glad we were coming to rescue him. Only because he didn’t know what I planned on doing though.

  We pushed on, constantly checking over our shoulders for any sign of Cronus. Every time we stopped, I found a new blossom waiting for me, and I tucked it reverently in my pocket with the rainbow of others, nestled against the jeweled f lower. Eventually our breaks became less and less frequent, and while I missed the f lowers, my body stopped becoming tired, and it was easier to continue.

  I don’t know how long we walked. It felt like forever, although it couldn’t have been more than a week. My leg hurt every time I took a step, but eventually the pain faded into the background, giving me time to absorb the beauty and horror of the Underworld.

  “Is this really the quickest way there?” I said as another nightmare faded. This time, it had been a child being burned alive as a mother watched, chained to the ground as she screamed, helpless to do anything.

  “’Fraid so,” said James as we trudged up a steep dirt road. “Pity this all didn’t happen after your coronation. You could’ve had us there in seconds.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered, grabbing a fallen branch to use as a walking stick. “Like I needed another reminder.”

  “You’re the one who asked,” said James, and after that, I refused to talk to him for the rest of the day.

  Now that the danger of Cronus attacking had all but dissipated, I spent most of my time trying to work out how best to convince Persephone not only to help us, but to tell me how to open the gate without Ava and James f inding out. I didn’t want it to be an option, but it was, and I couldn’t ignore it. And the way he caressed my cheek in the desert—if Cronus really was willing to help me in exchange for me releasing him, then maybe he could help take down Calliope. And then the other siblings could recapture him.

  It was shaky at best, but so was everything else about this plan, and at least this was better than nothing.

  The closer we got to Persephone, the tighter the knot in my chest grew. I ran through dozens of ways to convince her to come, arguments to make her see how important this was, but there was no guarantee that anything I said would be enough. Through trying to persuade her, I also ran the risk of pushing her away.

  Between the worry and stress of everything that was happening, I grew quieter, listening to James and Ava talk instead of joining in. When they weren’t talking about my deal with Cronus, most of their conversation centered on what the others were doing and whether or not Dylan had convinced them that it was a waste of time. Ava was certain he wouldn’t; James wasn’t so sure, and their squabbling grew more and more heated until I didn’t know if I could take any more of it.

  Finally, when it seemed we would never stop walking and they would never stop f ighting, James held up his hand, and Ava fell silent. I froze, and James peered through the trees that surrounded us.

  “What is it?” said Ava in a hushed voice. James beckoned for us to join him, and I crept forward, tiptoeing around the roots. He stood at the edge of a clearing full of wildf lowers, and when I glanced aroun
d him, I noticed a small cottage with a plume of smoke trickling from the chimney. Made of wood instead of brick, it was covered with vines of f lowers, almost making it look as if it rose up out of the ground.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said wearily. “But we need to keep—” James covered my mouth with his hand, and I auto-matically licked him. It was the same thing I’d done to my mother whenever she’d tried to keep me quiet as a child, though at least her hands were usually clean and not covered with dirt from the Underworld.

  I made a face and spat, but I didn’t have the chance to lay into him for covering my mouth in the f irst place. The door to the cottage opened, and out skipped a curly haired blonde who looked a few years older than me. She was tiny, and despite the sun shining down into the lush meadow, her skin was alabaster.

  Beside me, James pursed his lips, and Ava let out a soft snort of distaste I didn’t understand. The girl knelt down in the garden beside the cottage door, and she started to pull weeds as she hummed happily to herself. There was something disturbingly familiar about the way she moved, and as a drop-dead gorgeous man stepped out of the cottage and into the sunlight to join her, I f inally understood.

  “Is that…?” I whispered. James swallowed, and my breath hitched in my throat.

  Persephone.

  CH A P T ER EIGH T

  PERSEPHON E

  She looked exactly like the image I’d seen of her months ago, except her hair was the color of wheat instead of strawberry-blond. We weren’t close enough for me to see the freckles, but I was positive they were there, too. Henry’s memory of her was perfect.

  Of course it was. What else had I expected?

  “So what?” I took a deep breath to slow my racing pulse.

  The knot in my chest made it hard to breathe. “Do we sit here and stare, or are we going to go say hi?” James didn’t answer. He watched Persephone with wide, unblinking eyes, and I wasn’t sure he was breathing, either.

  I poked him in the shoulder, but he shrugged off my touch.

  “What’s going on?” I said to Ava. She, too, was staring, but she had the same look on her face that she did when she was looking at Dylan. Or Xander. Or Theo.

  “I almost forgot how gorgeous Adonis is,” she said. “We should have made him one of us.”

  She wouldn’t have gotten any argument out of me, but a strange sound escaped from James, almost like he was growling. “And have to endure another narcissistic blond running around? No, thank you.”

  Ava opened her mouth to retort, but I cut her off. “You’re all narcissists. Are we going or not?”

  Wearing a wounded expression, James broke his stare, but neither he nor Ava made any move toward the cottage.

  With a huff, I stepped past the edge of the trees and walked through the meadow, making a point of stepping around the f lowers. No use in risking Persephone’s wrath before saying a word.

  Persephone must’ve caught sight of me, because she stood and placed herself protectively in front of the man—Adonis, apparently. It was f itting. He looked like he’d stepped out of a movie, with long hair that hung to his shoulders and an abdomen that would’ve put Henry to shame. It was hard to focus on Persephone with him standing there, and my mouth went dry as I tried to think of something to say.

  The desire to not make a fool of myself in front of him overwhelmed me, and I immediately felt guilty for being so attracted to him. If Persephone was half as shallow as Ava, at least now I understood why she’d left Henry.

  I touched the f lowers in my pocket. Now was not the time to start thinking like her.

  “Who are you?” she demanded. There was a sharp edge to her voice that forced my attention back on her, but what could she do? Attack me with a weed? She wasn’t a goddess anymore.

  “I’m Kate,” I said, holding my hands up as I took another step forward. “Kate Winters.”

  Her expression didn’t soften. If our mother had visited her, it either hadn’t been in the past twenty years or she’d never mentioned that Persephone had a sister. It seemed fair.

  She’d never told me I had a sister, either.

  I heard footsteps behind me as Ava and James came closer.

  Even if Persephone had no idea who I was, with the way her mouth dropped open, it was obvious she remembered them.

  “Hermes?” she said, stunned, and then her eyes narrowed as she added, “And Aphrodite. Lucky me. What’s going on?”

  James stepped beside me and set his hand on my shoulder.

  Ava lingered behind us, and I didn’t blame her. Whatever bad blood there was between the two of them, Persephone clearly hadn’t forgotten it, either.

  “Persephone,” said James with a stiff nod. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Not long enough,” she said, and she took Adonis’s hand, her knuckles turning white from her grip. “What do you want?”

  Nothing much. Just for her to leave her perfect boyfriend and afterlife behind to help the three of us f ind the most powerful being in the universe. Possibly free him as well, if she didn’t mind too much. I swallowed and opened my mouth to answer, but James got there f irst.

  “Cronus woke up.”

  Persephone paled. “How?”

  “Hera,” said James, and Persephone furrowed her brow.

  “It’s a long story. We need your help.”

  Persephone eyed us cautiously, and her gaze lingered on me longer than the others. “How could I possibly help you?

  I’m not a goddess anymore.”

  James sighed. “Can we come in?”

  She tensed, and as Adonis hugged her protectively, envy snaked through me. What would it be like to have those arms around me instead?

  No, I had Henry. Maybe things weren’t going so well, but he was my husband. I loved him. And who else had the ability to brighten my mood simply by walking into the room? I didn’t need Adonis.

  But part of me wanted him very, very badly.

  “It’s all right,” he said, nuzzling the crook of her neck.

  “No one can hurt me anymore.”

  I had no idea if that was true, if Cronus could attack the dead like he attacked us, but it didn’t matter. As long as Cronus held to his end of our bargain, we wouldn’t see him again until we were ready. It wasn’t a very reliable set of circumstances, but it was better than nothing.

  “Who is she?” said Persephone, nodding at me.

  James gave me a warning look, but I stepped forward before he could answer. “Henry was going to let himself fade because of you,” I said with more bite than I intended.

  “He couldn’t rule the Underworld alone, so I married him.” Persephone stared at me as if she could see right through me. It was unnerving, but I held my head high and stared back, refusing to let her get to me. She was under my skin enough already as it was.

  After a long moment, she turned toward the cottage door and nodded stiff ly for us to follow. The three of us trailed after her, Ava reluctantly so, and James gave me another look. I ignored that one, too.

  The inside of her one-room cottage was cozier than I’d expected. A hundred different kinds of f lowers hung from the ceiling, sorted by family and color, and I immediately felt at home. As I breathed in the heavenly scent, the tension in the air seemed to melt away. My mother had made exquisite bouquets for every occasion in New York, and by the time I was ten, businessmen paid exorbitant amounts for one of her arrangements. Before I was old enough to take much of an interest though, she got sick, and after her second round of chemotherapy, she had to sell the business.

  Apparently cancer hadn’t gotten in the way of her teaching Persephone.

  Persephone gestured for us to take a seat in one of the two chairs at the table, but James was the only one who accepted her invitation. I stood beside him, making a point of turning so I couldn’t see Adonis, and Ava lingered near the door.

  “How long have you been ruling the Underworld?” said Persephone. She stood in the center of the room, her mouth set in a f irm line a
s she watched me. It was unsettling, but at least she’d let us in.

  “I don’t,” I said. “Henry and I got married six months ago. I went away for the summer, and Cronus started attacking the day I came down here. There wasn’t time to f inish the ceremony.”

  Persephone made a soft noise in the back of her throat, and her eyes narrowed. “Why do you call him Henry?” I blinked. That was the last question I’d expected. “Same reason you call him Hades, I guess. It’s what he told me to call him.”

  “Greek names weren’t in style anymore,” said James.

  “And Zeus decided it was best to keep a low prof ile after Rome fell, so we had to adapt. I’m called James now.

  Aphrodite’s Ava. Hera was adamant about keeping a Greek name though—she went with Calliope, after her favorite Muse. It doesn’t stand out as much as ours did.” Persephone was silent. Adonis slipped beside her and looped his arm around her waist, but she didn’t budge. I couldn’t very well look away from her without being rude, so I gritted my teeth and tried to keep myself from blurting out something completely inappropriate.

  “Seems the world’s moved on without me,” she said with a haughty little sniff.

  “You shouldn’t act so surprised,” said James. He stretched his legs and toed off his boots. Persephone wrinkled her nose, but she didn’t say anything. “It’s been a thousand years. You wouldn’t recognize it if you went up there.” For a moment I thought I saw a f lash of regret pass across her face, and my stomach twisted unpleasantly. Had she decided she didn’t love Adonis as much as she thought she had? Was Ava right about Persephone’s loyalty, and had she grown tired of him and wanted to move on? I couldn’t see how, unless Adonis was nothing more than a pretty face.

  A very pretty face, but still.

  I didn’t have time to think about that for long. Persephone turned back to me, her blue eyes icy. “So what, he picked you out of the millions of people in the world—”

  “Billions,” said James. “It’s been a while.” Persephone scowled. “The point stands. Why you?” Part of me wanted to avoid this as long as possible, but she was bound to ask questions, and if I was honest with her, there was a chance she would be willing to help. If she really was bored with Adonis, maybe we’d get lucky and she’d jump at a chance to go someplace new. Either way, lying to her or withholding information wasn’t going to help my cause.