Persephone's Orchard (The Chrysomelia Stories)

by Ringle, Molly

  “So here’s what you do,” Tabitha said. “Think of all his annoying traits, and how you’re free of them.”

  Sophie pondered. “Always saying he was going to ‘grab’ food.”

  “Pointing at people when he said hi to them.”

  “The turquoise Converse that don’t match anything he owns.”

  “His opinion that classical music is ‘boring,’ and opera is ‘weird,’” Tabitha said.

  “The way he won’t eat any salads except the most boring iceberg lettuce ones. Not even the awesome ones I make.”

  Tabitha waved her hand grandly. “See? Completely incompatible with the daughter of produce. Hey, how are your folks and Liam? Any news?”

  Sophie sighed. “Not really. Liam says Mom still spends a lot of time out of the house, but he hasn’t figured out why. Dad acts like everything’s fine as long as I text him every twelve hours. And Mom’s supposed to come down and visit me soon, where I’m sure she’ll act like everything’s fine, too. I don’t know.”

  Tabitha nodded in commiseration. “You remember how royally it sucked when my parents got divorced. I hope you and Liam never have to deal with that. But still—there is nothing, repeat, nothing, you can do. You’re an adult, and you’ve got your own crap to deal with.”

  “Yeah.” Sophie sighed. “It’s just—her kissing some other guy…and he looked like a sleazy banker or something, with the haircut and the suit…”

  “Honey, I know. But don’t torture yourself with that. Today, just take care of you.”

  Sophie obeyed as best as she could. She finished most of her textbook reading and her worksheets. Then she laced up her running shoes and jogged to Avery Park and back. She’d taken up jogging in the last year, but had neglected it since coming to college. It did her good—it left her tired enough to sleep, and she dropped with exhaustion into Persephone’s world.

  Persephone and Hades were still experimenting with the Underworld’s plants. One tree’s bark yielded an effective substance for tanning animal skins in a fraction of the usual time it took, and with less of the obnoxious odors. Another, when fed to pigs, made them stay up all night and sleep all day in reverse of their natural habits; and, when fed to bats (captured in one of the more remote sections of the cave), switched their habits the other way.

  “Day-flying bats.” Hades shook his head, watching them flutter and swoop around outdoors in the noonday sun. “A lot of good that’ll do anyone.”

  Persephone frowned at them, shielding her eyes from the sun. “The real problem, if you ask me, is that so far none of the edible plants do anything special unless they’re eaten inside the cave. We can’t be dragging people to the Underworld all the time for cures.”

  “Agreed. But I take it as a sign that we’re not meant to export too much magic. The Underworld likes to keep its secrets close.”

  “Then back into the cave we go,” she declared.

  There was a whole half of the cave she never saw, though she knew it existed.

  “The place where the evil go,” she finally dared to say one day, as they walked the fields. “Where is it?”

  Hades shot her a stern look. “Deeper. But I’m not taking you there.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s no place for a pleasant young person. Even I hate going there.”

  Dread chilled her, and she almost felt relieved that he wouldn’t show it to her. But the need to know the truth pushed her to ask more questions. “Why? What is it like?”

  He sighed. “They’re alone, each separated from the rest, and though they’ll talk to me if I wish, they’re always sunk in horrible guilty thoughts. And the vines hold them there, all by themselves, until the Underworld decides to let them go. That’s what disturbs me, really: seeing the cave as…as some kind of thinking, judging thing. I don’t know what to make of it. Perhaps it’s the great Goddess at work, and that’s…frightening, in a way. Even if it’s also good, in the larger scheme.”

  Persephone nodded, gazing down at the pale grass as they walked. “I feel no need to see it yet, then. Your description is enough.” Then she looked at him. “The vines, you said? Vines hold them? Like the ones for harnessing the spirit horses?”

  He glanced at her, guilt shadowing his eyes. “The same. That’s how I learned to do it. I looked at the vines down there, which the Underworld twists together on its own. I didn’t want to tell anyone, though. The others think me insane enough as it is, and if they knew I was using methods from the caves of punishment to capture horses for them…”

  “I won’t tell,” she promised. “And I think it’s admirable, actually. You took something dark and made something useful of it.”

  He gave her a soft smile. “Thank you for putting it that way, at least.”

  Upon awakening from that memory on a Friday morning, Sophie wandered to class in a morbidly thoughtful mood, recalling Adrian telling her about those caves of punishment, and wearing the same troubled look that Hades had.

  Meanwhile, Sophie hadn’t forgotten Jacob. She had kept him with her throughout the dreams; Jacob, angered and hurt, hovered in the wings like one of the Underworld’s ghosts, even while she stepped into Persephone’s skin and explored prehistoric Greece.

  But it had to be admitted: after these considerations of life and death and divine retribution, breaking up with her high-school boyfriend looked a bit less momentous. It was survivable, at any rate.

  She got through the day with a bit more grace than she had yesterday, and fell asleep that night looking forward to her dreams.

  Time and again, Persephone reminded Hades it would be extremely useful for her to be able to speak the language of the dead, and converse with the souls directly about the plants and other topics. He taught her several phrases and words, which she picked up easily. But they both knew the faster way to fluency.

  “I don’t want any more mortals eating the pomegranate,” he told her in mid-summer. They were lunching above ground, on the beach. “There have only been three, and they were all ancient wise folk. Even most of the immortals have turned it down—like your mother.”

  She glared at him. “So now you’re hoarding all the wisdom? You won’t let anyone else have it?”

  “It isn’t that. It’s a burden, bringing all those past lives—and past deaths—into your mind. You’re much too young to do that to yourself.”

  “Why should age enter into it? If I’m old enough to marry and bear children, why shouldn’t I be old enough to know my other lives?”

  “You’re young and delightful.” His voice gentled, and the sea wind ruffled his black hair. “I’d hate to see you darken your mind with all the tragedies that have ever befallen your soul.”

  She pitched an olive pit into the waves, and lay back on her elbows on the warm sand. “Does your mind feel darkened? You speak more of having been ‘enlightened’ by this realm, it seems to me.”

  “Now you’re playing word games. Demeter would hate it if you ate the pomegranate. You know she would. You got your way in coming here so often; just leave it at that.”

  But Persephone didn’t leave it at that. That afternoon, walking with Hades through the orchard, she spotted a freshly fallen pomegranate among the dead leaves. Under pretext of adjusting her sandal, she knelt so her gown’s hem covered the fruit. As she stood again, she wrapped the pomegranate in the corner of her red cloak and picked it up, tucking it into the cloth bag she carried.

  Of course, in order for it to work, she would have to eat it here rather than take it home.

  She looked into the bag and made a sound of dismay. “Oh—my paintbrush. I must have left it by one of the trees.” She began circling each tree trunk, pretending to search the ground.

  Hades turned back on the path. “I’ll check the farther trees.”

  “Thank you.” As soon as his footsteps died to a far rustle, she dropped to her knees and took out the pomegranate. She dug her fingernails into its thick skin. Red juice dripped onto her hand and splattered ont
o her white tunic. Swearing in a whisper, she ripped loose a section of the fruit and sank her teeth into the tightly packed seeds. They tasted sweet and cool. She tugged free one more section and ate its seeds too, just to make sure the magic would take effect. A drop of juice ran down her chin and splashed in a large pink spot on her tunic’s neckline.

  Hades’ footsteps crunched back toward her in the leaves. She wiped her chin, swallowed the mouthful of fruit, and shoved the rest of the pomegranate under the dead leaves.

  “Nothing yet,” he said. “You?”

  “It’s all right, yes, I found it.” Rising, she held up the brush and stepped out from behind the tree.

  “Ah, good.” He halted, his gaze falling to her tunic. His solicitous expression turned to suspicion, and his hand lifted toward the pink spot. “What’s on your…” She tried to cover it with her own hand, and instantly he caught her fingers and examined them—sticky with the fruit’s juices, her nails stained and still wet. Clutching her hand, he looked at the ground, kicked aside a rise in the leaves, and uncovered the half-eaten pomegranate.

  She pulled in her breath.

  He pushed her backward and released her hand. “Persephone!”

  It was the first time she had ever seen him angry, and being the cause of it sent a thrill through her—part fear, part triumph. Even in that muddled moment she understood she wanted to cause strong reactions in him. Ideally of a more pleasant kind, but anger was a start.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I take full responsibility.”

  “Yes, I should hope so.”

  “I mean I won’t let you take the blame. I promise.”

  Growling, he turned and paced away, one hand buried in his hair. “How can I trust you down here? The magic is dangerous, and if you won’t listen to me, I can’t let you be here.”

  That was a threat that scared her and brought her close to tears. “Please let me come back. I won’t sneak about anymore. I will be careful. I just wanted the knowledge, the languages…”

  Still glowering, he swung toward the river and marched that direction. “Come. It’s time to take you home.”

  She chased after him, but could barely keep up because of her limp, and for once he wasn’t slowing his pace to accommodate her. Only at the river’s edge did she catch up to him, as he unwound the rope that tied the raft. “Please,” she said. “I’m sorry. Don’t send me home forever.” She closed her hands around his upper arm and laid her forehead against it, feeling the warmth and muscle through the cloth of his cloak. “Please.”

  He held still a moment, then took her arm and led her onto the raft with him. He said nothing as he pulled the raft across the river, and lifted her up the other bank.

  Tears pulsed in her throat as she followed him to the entrance chamber. Daylight glimmered from the mouth above. The warm breeze descending from outside swirled his cloak around him. He untied the chariot waiting there and stood aside to let her climb in.

  Miserably, she did so.

  Hades stepped in after her, but only gazed at the horses, his expression like a thundercloud.

  “Can I come back?” she asked, voice quivering.

  He sighed, and rubbed his face. The pause before he answered stretched far too long for her taste. “I suppose you’ll have to. Where else will you be able to use the language of the dead?”

  She breathed free at last. Leaning sideways, she kissed his shoulder. “Thank you. Really, I’m sorry. I’m too impulsive and I know it.”

  “You’ll pay for it.” He tied an extra knot in the willow-and-ivy reins. “Goddess only knows what kind of dreams you’ll have now.”

  “I look forward to them. I’m sure they’re worth gaining the languages.”

  “Foolish confidence of youth.” He hooked his elbow into hers and snapped the reins. The horses leaped upward, and the chariot tipped Persephone and Hades nearly onto their backs as they flew into the sky.

  They straightened out over the land and began the flight up the river. “To be honest,” he said, “when I was your age I would have done the same. I suppose I did the nearest thing, volunteering as a sacrifice. Hoping to journey to the Underworld that way.”

  “That’s much braver and more foolish than me. I wouldn’t dare be a sacrifice.”

  “Let’s hope you never are.” His grave statement kept them quiet a while, then a snort of a laugh escaped him.

  She looked at him. “What?”

  Watching the horses, he shook his head. “It’s like having a dog. ‘What has she eaten now?’”

  “Not very flattering.” She tried to look stern, and failed when laughter overtook her.

  KNIVES, BLOOD, CEREMONIES. Beautiful chants under the stars, colorful murals on palace walls. A boy named Hades falling as voluntary sacrifice, his blood pooling down the steps to where she stood, only a few paces away, trying not to faint with horror. Then Rhea bringing her in secret to the court of the dead to witness his miraculous recovery…and after parting from him in Greece, the midnight squall at sea that sent the ship pitching onto its side, flinging her and everyone else overboard, the wet sails and beams trapping her under the heaving surface, saltwater invading her lungs…

  Persephone awoke from her first memory-dream with a choked cry of terror, and Sophie did the same a moment later.

  It was Saturday morning, and Melissa still slept, but the sky was light at the edges of their closed curtains. To calm and reorient herself, Sophie focused on real-world details: Melissa’s family photos taped to her wardrobe door; Sophie’s untidy stacks of books on the shelves.

  Memory-dreams within memory-dreams. That was new. And confusing.

  Closing her eyes again, she rubbed her eyelids, unable to hold back a shiver at the thought of young Hades being sliced open with a pair of blades. Hearing about it as history in Persephone’s time was nowhere near as disturbing as seeing it firsthand as Tanis. Even when, as Tanis, she fully believed it was done for the good of some all-powerful Goddess, it had been utterly horrible to witness.

  And she couldn’t deny one of her reasons for being disturbed. Seventeen-year-old Hades, with his beard shaved and his curls cut to above his neck, looked more than ever like Adrian. The thought of watching him get sacrificed grieved her more than she expected.

  Well, he was a friend. Quite a lot more than a friend. What did you call someone you’d been usually in love with for the past seventy-five lives?

  Sophie pulled her phone off her desk, and found it was 9:04 a.m. She sent him a text.

  Did you know I was Tanis who helped you escape the palace after the sacrifice? Of course you knew. Well, I didn’t till now. Freaked me the hell out.

  She got out of bed and took her towel and basket of toiletries to the bathroom, closing the door quietly to avoid waking Melissa.

  As she hung her worn red terrycloth bathrobe on the hook beside the showers, the phone buzzed from its pocket. She tucked the towel around her naked body and looked at the message.

  Sorry you had to see that sacrifice. Always reckoned it looked even worse from the outside than it did from my point of view. So Persephone’s eaten the pomegranate now?

  Yes, she thumbed in. Very sneaky of her. Me. Whoever.

  True, and I still feel bad for that dog comment, Adrian wrote.

  Ha, she answered. I plan to call you a potbellied pig someday in revenge.

  That’ll teach me. So what are you up to today?

  Studying mostly. You? she typed.

  Same, kinda. If you can bring it elsewhere, want to study together?

  Nervous pleasure warmed her belly. Her lip ran back and forth under her teeth, a smile emerging despite her stress. Sure. What time?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  DEW SOAKED THE GRASS, WETTING her high-top sneakers as she crossed the quad. The maple trees were turning brilliant yellow against the blue sky. The air was calm but cold, and smelled of smoke and damp forests. Southern Greece was decidedly warmer than Oregon, Sophie noted, wrapping her purple and blue s
carf (knitted by her mom) one extra time around her neck.

  She arrived at the newly chosen rendezvous spot and waited—between a hedge and a statue, near a lecture hall. Her backpack, stuffed with the laptop computer and a few books, dragged heavily on her shoulders. She wore the loose knitted cap that went with the scarf, but still shivered with cold.

  A rustle in the hedge made her turn. Adrian emerged, pushing branches away from his face, and smiled. He wore a wool hat too, in gray rib knit, and had his flannel-lined coat buttoned up. On his back was a dark green pack with extra straps and pockets, probably intended for hiking. Dew sprinkled his boots and darkened his indigo jeans up to the knees, likely because the grass was higher in the other realm.

  “Hi,” he said. “Ready?”

  She nodded. Stepping up, she slipped her arms around his neck. Her cheek touched the rough wool of his coat.

  Adrian held her around the waist, and the world transformed. Hedge, building, and statue vanished. Wet tips of meadow grass poked at her thighs, leaving cold wet spots on her jeans. Adrian’s hold went slack, but Sophie kept hugging him, on an impulse. It was cold, and he smelled good, and it had been a tough week and she could use a hug, was how she rationalized it to herself.

  Adrian held still, as if processing the gesture, then responded, rewrapping his arms around her. He stroked her hat-covered head and let his hand settle between her shoulders.

  After a few seconds, she let go, and he smiled, ducking his head. “Good morning,” he said.

  “Good morning. It’s, uh, nice to see you…alive.”

  He smiled kindly at her and bent to pet Kiri, who had bounded over. “Yeah, the memories can be traumatizing sometimes. Sorry about that.”

  “Poor Tanis.” Sophie patted Kiri’s back. The wagging tail thumped her leg. “So this might count as spoilers, but does this connection thing between us keep going into the past? Before Hades and Tanis and all that?”

  “Some, but not as much.” He started strolling across the meadow. She followed. “We were drawing closer to each other over the years, but it really kicked off with the Persephone lifetime.”