Hades laughed. Not who, but what. “She didn’t tell you?”
Zeus shook his head. Poseidon glared at his brother.
The foolish god hadn’t even thought to ask Eris. If it wasn’t so sad, it might have been funny.
“Isn’t it just like her to leave out certain details?”
Drawing upon his inner power, Hades let his magic swirl around him, embracing him like a
gentle lover, before he sent the awesome potency of his magic outward to stroke along the edges of the two men’s auras. Zeus started, eyes wide.
Opening his arms wide, a gesture that was completely unnecessary, but dramatically
satisfying in its effect, Hades threw wide the doors of Tartarus. He released the horrors from their deepest pits, all the monsters, mortal and immortal. “I’m Hades, son of the goddess Eris.”
Zeus’ eyes shifted to the dangling chains. Hades could almost see the thoughts tumbling
around in Zeus’ mind. He was wondering if Eris had tricked him. Hades knew she had.
“You’re on our side, aren’t you?” The uncertainty in Zeus’ voice brought a smile to Hades’
lips.
“You keep your word, son of Coronus, and we won’t have a problem. Break it, and Tartarus
will seem like Paradise in comparison.”
Hades drew in his magic tight to his aura, and then brought it closer. Only if someone
touched his skin would they understand the truth of the man. It was one of many tricks his mother had taught him.
He winked at the two cowering gods. “See you later.”
Chapter 2
PERSEPHONE LIFTED her face to the gentle kiss of rose petals fluttering around her in a
myriad of colors. Reds, pinks, yellows, whites. The silky caress of the petals against her skin was heavenly as they floated to the ground.
Persephone opened her arms wide to the night sky and twirled. The stars seemed to dance
with her. The sky above her burst into color. She laughed, shaking her head, and delicate petals tumbled from her hair.
“It’s time,” a woman’s voice said.
Warmth surged across her skin. A tickle of memory as the presence at her back enclosed her in a cocoon of affection and love unlike anything she’d felt before. “I love you, Persephone,” a deep voice whispered close to her ear.
She turned into the embrace…
The sudden chirp of birds bursting into song outside her window snatched Persephone from
her strange dream. She stirred beneath the sheets, enjoying the silky texture against her flesh. Her skin smoldered with a need she could not understand. She only knew she wanted…what?
Rose petals to fall from the sky? Love from a phantom?
She groaned, burying her head in the pillow. It was frustrating to awaken each morning with sensations one didn’t understand, let alone know how to satisfy. And though she would like nothing more than to blame the nymphs for her predicament, she knew her dreams weren’t
entirely the nymphs’ fault. She was a romantic at heart, treasuring the stories they told her of lovers, magic, and heroes. Truthfully, she was irritated more by the feeling that something vital was missing from her life and she’d know just what that was if she could remember.
Throwing back the blanket, she crawled from the bed and allowed the chilly morning breeze to cool her heated flesh. Usually this was her favorite time of the day, the brief period of time when her thoughts lingered in her dreams. Only she didn’t want to linger today. She wanted. . .
she wanted the perfect love spoken of by the nymphs! A love she couldn’t quite grasp, but craved all the same.
She opened her wardrobe and stared at the selection of dresses. There were several white
ones, a pale yellow one, a peach one with small pink flowers embroidered on it, several shades of pinks, a soft sea green, a few creams, and a light blue.
She sighed. She hated pastels. She wanted a dress the color of violets, or ocean blue, or maybe deep red roses.
Roses. She could not help smiling at the thought of rose petals falling from the sky like rain.
The unexpectedness of it would break the monotony of her days.
Grabbing a dress of creamy white, she slipped out of her light shift and wrapped the cloth around her body, fastening the shoulders with golden butterfly broaches, and twining a golden cord under her breasts and wrapping it down her narrow waist to her hips, tying it into an elaborate knot.
Satisfied, she exited her room, forcing the images of her dream from her mind. There was a multitude of tasks ahead of her today. She needed to check on the row of daffodils she’d planted last week. The carnations and daisies would need watering. The wood nymphs wanted to teach her a new song, so she would take a break from her tasks before lunch to learn it. It was easier sneaking away to the grove when her mother remained in the small villa.
After lunch, she’d try again to coax the old apple tree to bloom, though without magic she didn’t know if it would do any good. Then she’d gather some vegetables and fruits from the garden to compliment the ambrosia they would have for dinner. She didn’t expect her mother to eat it, but she wished for a change. After dinner, she would spend the time with her mother sewing or knitting as they discussed the day’s activities.
She sighed. Her life was boring, predictable. And it wasn’t really her.
Demeter set a pitcher of fresh water upon the table, looking up as Persephone entered the kitchen, a full grin on her beautiful face. “Good morning, Persephone.”
She brushed her hands on the skirt of her dress and pushed back a stray lock of her corn
yellow hair, before hugging her daughter.
Persephone returned the hug, cringing inside, her skin pricking with the force of her mother’s magic. She might not have the ability to wield magic, but she could feel it crawling over her skin, burrowing deep inside, until she could see the inner person.
Her mother was old; far older than the thirty years she appeared to be and she had many
secrets. Sorrowful, shameful secrets hidden in the darkness.
Persephone was the first to break contact. “Morning, Mother.”
Demeter lifted the knife from the table and quickly sliced through the crisp skin of an apple.
“Breakfast will be but a moment.”
Persephone looked over at the counter, seeing the basket of fruit and sighed. Nothing every changed. She was tired of fruit.
Before she could take her seat at the table, someone rapped sharply on the door. She knew instantly who would be there. Only Aunt Hestia visited the villa.
Persephone opened the door and smiled at stout five-foot three-inch Aunt Hestia waiting
patiently on the stoop. Her curly brunette locks falling in waves over her wide shoulders and a broad grin on her lovely face. “Hello, dear one, I brought you a gift for your garden.” She held out her hand and presented two azure butterflies with sparkly diamonds flashing in their wings.
“Oh!” Persephone hugged the shorter goddess. She took the magnificent butterflies from her Aunt’s hand and stepped back into the kitchen. “Thank you, Aunt Hestia! They’re beautiful!”
The butterfly on Persephone’s hand took flight, fluttering around the room, a series of prisms flashed on the creamy plaster of the house’s walls as the sunlight reflected off its wings. It landed on the flowers in the vase.
“Where did you find them?” Persephone breathed, awed by the majestic creatures.
Hestia laughed; a hearty, joyful sound from deep within her gut. “I created them.” Her radiant smile lit her face, a becoming glow of pride. “I thought they would be a perfect addition to your garden. I remembered you like jewels-”
“Hestia,” Demeter interrupted, gliding toward them. “It’s good to see you.”
Persephone frowned. Her mother was doing it again. Every time Aunt Hestia let something
slip Demeter interrupted. Maybe these small tidbits could shake loose a me
mory and crack open the shell around her life. Maybe she could remember more than last three years of her life.
Hestia looked away from Demeter, the frown smoothing away. “This one is male and the
other is female. Soon you’ll have a garden full.”
Persephone forced a smile to her lips although she wanted to cry, or rant and rave, or scream her frustration. She hated when they treated her as if she was a child. She hated it when they flaunted their use of magic knowing that she didn’t have any.
“What are their names?” Persephone asked.
Hestia shrugged. “They belong to you.”
She stared at the butterflies, deciding upon the two names she liked. “She’ll be Jewel. And he’ll be Enchantment.”
Demeter winced but didn’t protest.
“You’re going to be late, Demeter,” Hestia said.
Persephone turned to her mother. “Where are you going?”
Demeter lifted her dark jade cloak from the stool beside the door and settled it around her shoulders. “To Mount Olympus. I’ve business to discuss with the other gods.”
“If an informal gathering can be considered business?”
“It’s business for me, Hestia. I don’t enjoy going.”
“You use to,” Hestia reminded her sister, looking pointedly at Persephone.
“That was a long, long time ago before—I don’t enjoy them anymore, Hestia.”
“Then why do you go?”
“I need to know how the war is going. If the Titans win,” she glanced at Persephone and
shuddered, “we’ll find another place to go.”
Persephone pretended to lose interest in the conversation. She had learned a long time ago that Demeter never spoke of such things in her hearing. As long as she pretended to be
completely captivated by her butterflies, her mother would continue to speak.
Regardless most of her knowledge came from the nymphs or Hestia. She knew the story of
her father Zeus. Rhea bore her husband, Coronus, a son, but instead of presenting the child to his father as she’d done with their other children, Rhea took the child to an island cave where he was raised to adulthood by nymphs. Zeus released Demeter and the other Olympians from Coronus’
imprisonment in Tartarus, gathering allies to his banner to challenge the elder gods for power.
For ten years now they’d squabbled for leadership like hummingbirds over a productive flower.
“You worry too much, Demeter. They may outnumber us, but we’re too evenly matched.”
And being immortal meant there were no permanent damages done. Hestia lowered her voice
and Persephone had to strain to hear her aunt’s next words. “Eris seems to think she knows someone who will turn the tide of this war.”
“Eris is a venomous bitch. I hope Zeus didn’t listen to her.”
Persephone was shocked by her mother’s language and the malice dripping from her words.
She couldn’t recall a goddess named Eris, although it seemed somehow familiar. She wasn’t about to ask them about it either and ruin the moment. Her mother would send her outside or change the topic.
Demeter glanced her way and Persephone decided it was time to remove herself from the
room. Persephone stood and headed for the other room. “I love you, Persephone.”
Persephone smiled. “I love you too. Are you heading out then?”
Demeter nodded and kissed Persephone on the cheek. “Mind your, Aunt Hestia.”
“Of course.” Persephone took the insects to the window overlooking the flower gardens and settled them on the honeysuckle creeping up the wall. Jewel crawled onto a pale pink flower with the tongues of brilliant red on the petals and a golden center and Enchantment wasn’t far behind.
Demeter lead Hestia walked out of the villa, closing the door firmly behind them. Persephone shook her head and crossed to the kitchen. Using the open window to eavesdrop upon the
conversation outside, she listened carefully. This war affected her as much as anyone and yet her mother would tell her nothing. What she learned, she overheard or the nymphs told her, but no one ever provided her with details. And unlike her mother, the nymphs didn’t care who won; they were more interested in pursuing men or running from them.
“She gave him hope for an end to this war, Demeter. Zeus and Poseidon left for the
Underworld days ago to retrieve this warrior.”
“The idiot! Did he even think to ask Eris who the man was?!”
“He was imprisoned in the darkest pit of Tartarus by Coronus for defiance in some argument.
You know Father. He cares not for justice, just his pride. And power.”
“How can a mortal help us, Hestia?”
“He’s immortal. Probably some minor Titan.”
The comment evoked a tickle of memory, a flash of a cave and a shadowy figure with
midnight eyes. The image was gone before she could grasp it.
“Or one of the older gods?” Demeter snapped. “Daemons are unpredictable.”
“Don’t be foolish. How could Coronus trick an elder god into imprisonment?”
Silence.
“Oh, Demeter, I’m sorry. I didn’t think…Do you forgive me?”
“Of course, dear one,” Demeter said. Her voice shook. “It was my own fault that Coronus
was able to…I thought her safe.”
“She was as safe as you could make her. As soon as Zeus frees this warrior, he can turn the tide of battle and bring us victory. No more war. No more Coronus. And no more worries over Persephone.”
“It’s foolhardy, Hestia. We don’t know who he is.”
“I’m sure Zeus does. Now you’d better go if you plan to return before dark.”
Persephone raced across the room with her bowl of fruit and sat at the window, taking a bite of breakfast. Maybe if she was careful, she could ask Hestia about the god. Sometimes her aunt spoke before she thought and Persephone could prod information or stories from her.
Hestia entered the house and paused. “There you are.”
Persephone looked up with a smile and a twinge of guilt, swallowing the mouthful of fruit. “I know the perfect spot for Enchantment and Jewel. The daffodil patch in the corner.”
Hestia smiled; never suspecting deviousness from her. She squelched the twinge of unease.
The only way to have a hand in her fate was too learn everything possible to her life. Her mother wanted her to remain a child forever and Persephone couldn’t be that for her.
“Will you tell me about the war?”
Hestia motioned to the fruit and gave her a pointed look. “I’ll tell you while you eat.”
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
HADES STOOD on the white sandy beach at dusk, his toes curling into the cooling warmth
as he watched Helios’ blindingly bright chariot sink into the sea. It felt good to stand on the beach and watch the tide slide inland, to feel the warmth of the sun on his pale skin.
What a welcome sight after centuries in a dank cell, removed from the world and its majesty.
He watched as the azure sky began to darken to a light indigo. He marveled as the oranges, reds, and purples disappeared, and the world became little more than shades of grays, black, and black-blue. The first star of twilight twinkled in the heavens above him.
He’d forgotten the simplest pleasures and annoyances of living, like the water caressing his toes, or the cold air on his flesh, or gritty sand slithering between his toes. He relished the feel of cool water, the darkness upon his skin, and the power surging through his veins, soothing and repairing the damage to his body, to his mind, to his soul.
This was freedom. The freedom he’d desired for so long. He could almost taste it upon his tongue, warm and welcoming. But he knew it was a dream he could only hold a little longer. He could never truly be free as long as the Titans ruled. There was much they had to atone for: the deaths of Leuce and her family; the hundreds of daemons
dead in tantrums thrown by gods; the stolen power of his birthright and the forced existence without magic; and using the dead to torment him.
He could never be free until Leuce and her family were avenged and safely ensconced in the Elysian Fields, because he owed her that much. He could never be free until he let go of the past and moved toward the future, whatever that might be. He could never be free until he lived as a true Phlegethon should, mated to his equal in power and magic.
Selene rose into the night sky, her white chariot glowing brightly upon the water. He hoped the witch fell from her chariot and drowned in the dark waters of the sea. He’d never liked the snooty goddess and the feeling seemed mutual.
He lifted his face, breathing deeply of the cold salty air, before turning away from Selene’s bright face. The first and second phases were complete. By opening the gates of Tartarus, he’d released every monster the Titans had ever imprisoned. He’d released chaos and mayhem upon the world. And while the Titans ran about capturing the monsters, expending that precious power they so coveted, he’d walked into their palace and taken their weapons, hiding them throughout the world. He’d insured the Olympian’s victory.
While in their armory, he’d taken back his black armor and frightening sword, untouched by the centuries. How he would enjoy using them against the smug Titans, for tomorrow he’d face them in battle. His revenge would be swift. He would accomplish in one day what the Olympians had failed to do in ten years. He would bring the Titan Empire to its knees. He would make them pay for their mistakes.
Leaving the beach, he moved inland. He’d planned to return to Mount Olympus and confer
with Zeus on the next plan of action, but he couldn’t confine himself to the gaudy, marble monstrosity the Olympians called a palace. What was it with the Titans and the Olympians that they built such places on top of mountains?
For the most part, no one would dare defy them. They didn’t really need the security of
higher ground. It was a mere show of power and dominance.
Of course, there were the occasional idiots who dared defy the ruling faction of gods.
Coronus’ rise to power had been a greedy power play that benefited all, but then Coronus had been no better than his father. Now the Olympians, Zeus at their head, were in a power play for supremacy, fueled by the need for freedom. Hades didn’t know if Zeus would be any better than Coronus. Not that it mattered.
My Lord Hades Page 2
