“And Hades?” another asked.
His voice was hard, bitterness tingeing his every word. “If we rule the Underworld, what need do we have for Hades?”
The murmurs grew stronger, questions filling the night.
“How would you overthrow him?”
“What will become of him?”
“What will become of us?”
“What will Demeter do? Olympus do?”
He held up both hands then, waiting for them to fall silent before he spoke again. “He brings death; we are already dead. In truth, he has no power over us, not anymore. If we send him to Tartarus, would not those souls he’s imprisoned rise up? Would they not delight in his eternal suffering? And when they join us, he will fall. I cannot return you to the land of the living, but we can rule the Underworld. Elysium, Asphodel… all would be within my power. If you choose to serve me.”
Panoptes shook his head. “And Olympus?”
Erysichthon smiled. “Will have no choice but to seek an allegiance. We will control one of the three realms. With Hades imprisoned and Persephone my wife, they will yield.”
“And if we fail?”
He laughed. “If we fail, we fail. We’ve nothing to lose. We are dead already.”
Chapter Seventeen
Persephone held her sides as she laughed, shaking her head. “Truly?”
Aeacus smiled. “Truly.”
Hades smiled as well. It pleased him to see her so. Aeacus’ tale delighted her; perhaps he’d have others to share. “No other news?”
“No, my lord. Our court has seen little in the way of arrivals.”
“A welcome change, I’m sure.” Her voice was soft.
Aeacus nodded. “Indeed, Goddess.”
“Thank you,” Hades murmured, taking the scrolls from Aeacus.
“My pleasure…” Aeacus’ words ended as Hermes entered the hall.
Hades felt a crushing tightness within his chest. It was not unusual to see Hermes, but each visit posed a threat to his newfound happiness. The time would come when Persephone was called home. The look upon Hermes’ face was so grave that his fear threatened to overwhelm him.
Persephone rose from the kline, hugging Hermes with a welcoming smile. “Dear Hermes, come, join us. Aeacus was just…”
Hermes glanced at Persephone, his jaw rigid. “You are well?”
She was still smiling. “I am quite well.”
Hades waited, knowing Hermes had news of import. His hand tightened about the base of his goblet, bracing himself.
Hermes nodded. “Then you will be able to return to your mother, now. I have news you must hear.” Hermes turned, speaking to them all. “News you must all hear.”
Hades did not like the panic that found him. But he held himself stiff, until her green eyes flew to his. Her smile, her laughter was gone. And he saw the worry on her face. If Hermes were not here, he would pull her onto his lap. He would hold her close and…
“Much has changed in the time you’ve been here,” Hermes continued. “Erysichthon… Erysichthon is dead.”
Hades turned to Hermes, surprised by this announcement.
“What happened?” Persephone, too, was startled. She stepped away from Hermes, making her way to Hades’ side.
Hades breathed deep, aching to pull her against him. Something was amiss, something more. He’d never seen Hermes so unsettled. He busied himself with pouring water into a goblet.
“Too much has happened to share now…”
“Then tell us what you can.” Hades’ voice was calm, betraying none of the worry that gripped him.
“He’d been cursed for cutting down Demeter’s grove. He was obsessed, with food… and finding you.” Hermes looked at Persephone, then continued, “He sold everything, including his daughter, to appease his hunger. But he could find no satisfaction.” He shrugged. “His madness was so great that he began to eat his own flesh.”
Disgust roiled within Hades, robbing him of words. Persephone began to tremble, pressing herself against him. His arms caught her and held her close.
“He did not cross over, Hermes.” Hades’ voice was sharp. He glanced at Aeacus. “Erysichthon of Thessaly? He has not…”
Aeacus shook his head. “No, my lord.”
“No, he hasn’t.” Hermes said in resignation. “He demanded no funeral rites be performed. His hunger died with his death, but his obsession with Persephone has not.”
Hades stroked the length of her back, over and over. Her trembling angered him, but Hermes’ words infuriated him.
Persephone whispered, pressing herself into his side, “Why does he do this?”
His arms tightened about her, her presence the only thing that eased him. The look on Hermes’ face told him there was more. “What else is there, Hermes?”
Hermes took a deep breath. “Poseidon…”
Hades sucked in a sharp breath.
“He’d given Erysichthon a draft, one of Aphrodite’s potions. He gave the poor mortal a vial when he should have had no more than a drop. He sought to make the match take…”
“So he says,” Hades sneered. “Go on.”
“It was through Poseidon’s hand that Erysichthon fell to madness?” Persephone gasped.
“He confessed all when he learned of Erysichthon’s plan. Indeed, he felt such conscience over his part that he sought to offer aid to Erysichthon’s daughter. It was through the daughter and the last of Erysichthon’s men that Poseidon learned of the plan.”
“What plan?” Hades’ patience was gone. His grip on Persephone had tightened, but she seemed to need his arms about her as much as he needed to hold her.
Hermes’ words spilled out. “He’s rallied those left to wander, those souls that cannot cross. He will take Persephone and try to overthrow you.”
Persephone gasped, turning into his chest.
“Aeacus.” Hades did not hesitate. “Go to Tartarus. Inform Didymos and the Erinyes. Put guards along the Rivers Acheron, Cocytus and Styx. Have Minos rally Asphodel and send Rhadamanthys to Elysium. We will be ready. Send me Cerberus.”
Aeacus nodded, bowing low before he left the chamber.
Persephone was clinging to him, her hands twisting in his tunic. “I cannot go. I will not leave you.”
Hades’ heart throbbed, so sweet were her words.
Hermes watched them, his tawny eyes full of sympathy. “We must take her to Olympus, Hades. Before the sun is set.”
Hades nodded.
“I will not go,” she cried.
“You will.” He gripped her shoulders, pulling her back to look up at him. “You will go.”
Her eyes were true green, sparkling with tears. “Please let me stay.”
Her words tore at him. He felt an unaccountable ache at the back of his throat, a heaviness in his lungs and stinging in his eyes. “I told you, Persephone. You knew you could not stay here, not forever.”
She shook her head, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “But… but…”
His hands tightened on her shoulders. He cursed himself as he pulled her against his chest, holding her tightly against him. He buried his nose in her hair, drawing in a deep breath. Her scent flooded him, making him ache with sadness.
He set her aside. “Hermes…”
He did not look at Hermes, but gently pushed her into his waiting arms. He could not bear it, could not bear the pain that gripped him. It was right. She did not belong here, in his realm or in his heart. She was a Goddess of the earth, of growth. He was the Lord of Death.
He would see her to Olympus, see her to safety… as was his duty. And then he would never see her again. He could only wish that his heart, this foolish hope, would stay with her.
He could not think as he called up his horses, lacing them into their harnesses without a word. But when he was done, he leaned against Orphnaeus’ flank. His lungs rebelled against the air he sought to pull in. And pain, sharp and hot, almost forced him to his knees. He swallowed, the strange tremor of his
mouth and the hitch of his breath angering him.
He pushed off of the horse, climbing into the chariot’s basket and snapping the horses forward.
Cerberus ran beside them, claws tearing up the turf. Hades cast the briefest glances upon the beast, but saw his sorrow echoed in their six golden eyes. They, Theron the most, would feel her absence.
“Protect her,” Hades spoke harshly. “So that we will only miss her while she is safe upon Olympus, instead of her being lost to us forever.”
Three sets of eyes narrowed, three sets of ears stood alert. The snapping jaws bared their teeth, growling and howling. Rows of serpents, green and brown, crowned Cerberus like a lion’s mane. They writhed and hissed, heeding his warning. Cerberus’ mighty tail, a spiked rudder, swung forcefully.
The beast heard him, then.
By the time he’d reached the bridge, he’d managed to steady himself. After years of control, he would not reveal himself now. Now, when he needed to send her away… He must. To keep her safe.
Hermes waited, Persephone at his side.
He did not look at her, but drew the horses up.
“We’ll not be alone,” Hermes assured him, helping Persephone into the chariot. “Every wood nymph of Thessaly has come to your aid. If we go now, they can keep the shades in the trees.”
“Why?” Persephone’s words were hollow… broken.
He’d not meant to look at her. “Souls are strongest in the shadows… in the night.” His eyes found hers and his voice softened under her gaze. “They offer little threat now, when the sun is high.”
She nodded, her face drawn. She looked too fragile, too frightened. He scowled, but she’d turned from him. She stared at Cerberus, a small smile on her lips. “Hello,” she murmured.
Cerberus whimpered then growled.
“Hermes will lead us out,” Hades said.
She nodded again.
“I’ll go on ahead,” Hermes said, his brow creasing as he glanced between them.
“Thank you, Hermes,” she said.
Hades’ hands tightened on the reins as he nodded at Hermes. Hermes sighed and turned, disappearing on the wind.
With a crack of the reins, they started off. He was aware of how stiffly she stood, how her hands gripped the chariot’s rail. With every bounce and jolt, she grew more rigid.
He could not hold himself silent. “Persephone.” She looked at him with tear-filled eyes.
Words failed him then. What reassurance could he offer her? None. “Hold tight. The road worsens ahead.”
Her chin quivered, but she nodded.
The chariot bounced, the chargers flying across the ground without pause. His cave, his sanctuary, seemed alive with menace, every shadow and crevice full of threat. It was with relief that true sunlight poured from the cave’s opening. He blinked, the white light strong after so long in his realm. He glanced at Persephone, his heart in his throat.
Her eyes were closed, but her face was tilted to the sun’s rays. She glowed, golden, ever brighter as they left the cave.
Cerberus howled in farewell. They could not cross over.
Persephone looked back, her green eyes searching the cave. “Good-bye,” she murmured, her breath hitching.
He tore his gaze from her, swallowing the words that welled up within him.
Her hand reached out, covering one of his, pulling at him unsteadily. He took a deep breath, her touch burning into him, connecting them once more. His hand twisted, gripping hers tightly.
She moved to his side, but did not lean into him. Her face changed, her brow furrowing as they left the cover of the rocky cliffs that bordered his realm. It was the sight of the long grassed plains, their golden stalks grey and brittle, that held her attention now. They did not wave in the wind, but splintered beneath the chargers’ hooves.
He watched her dangle her other hand over the edge of the chariot basket.
“What happened here?” she asked.
He followed her gaze. No war had ravaged this place. But something had happened. He’d never seen this realm so untended, so bleak. “I know not.”
Her fingers brushed across the grass tips. With a single touch the shoots began to plump, turning a rich green. She leaned forward, stretching her arm, hand, and fingers as far as she could. The path widened, a vibrant stripe of emerald spreading across the meadow. He held his arm out, anchoring her to the chariot basket and further extending her reach.
The wind lifted her copper curls, while the sun gilded her. He feasted on the sight of her.
She laughed softly, glancing at him with sparkling eyes. “They’re happy to see me.”
He nodded, though it pained him to do so. Of course they were happy, she was returned to them. Her very touch saw them healed and whole once more. He knew all too well the magic of her touch.
Silence fell. She turned her attention to the plants, growing more lovely with every flower she blessed. He knew her magic, her gift, was where it should be. Here, in the land of the living. She did not, had never, belonged with him. And she never would.
###
Her grip tightened upon his hand. The chariot tilted, leaving the meadow and climbing the base of the mountain.
She could scarce speak the word. “Olympus?”
He glanced at her, nodding. He looked away, but did not release her hand.
“Hades,” she started, then took a deep breath, knowing he heard the tremor in her voice.
“Perhaps it’s better left unsaid.”
She pressed herself against his side, resting her head on his arm. “Perhaps… I love you…”
“Be wary, Persephone.” His words were harsh. “Do not reveal yourself to them. They are your brethren, yes, but they will favor you only as long as it serves them to do so. Guard your heart… And your tongue.”
She nodded. “Honesty is not so revered here.”
His eyes traveled her face, and he shook his head, his smile sad and his brow furrowed. “No.”
“Then I will be careful.” She paused, stroking his face. “And I will love you…”
His hand covered hers. He turned into her touch, kissing her palm once. “No more. I beg you. Put such thoughts from your mind.”
His hand gripped hers, lifting it from his cheek and pressing it to her side. She watched as he took the reins in both hands. She stared at those hands…
“Will you be safe?” she asked. She would know that much.
He nodded. “Erysichthon thinks there is nothing to fear after death.”
She shivered, remembering his description of Tartarus, of the abyss beyond.
“And you will be safe, with your mother,” he finished.
“Yes.” She had missed her mother.
And the sun, she’d missed it as well. She tilted her face to its rays once more. It was hot, but it did not seem to warm her. She opened her eyes, astonished by the beauty of the mountain. Whereas Greece was brown, Olympus was green and fertile. The higher they rode, the greener it became. She stared behind her, taking in the land that stretched as far as she could see. On the horizon was blue, the sea, perhaps?
The clouds were vapor thin about them. And still the horses ran on.
The world below was lost, swallowed by the white clouds of the heavens.
And then she saw it.
Olympus. Such halls, white columns of gleaming marble shot through with gold and silver. Several halls resting at various levels on the mountains peak. On the tip stood the largest.
“There?” she asked.
He nodded. “The Council Chamber.”
She stared at him, feeling close to tears once more. It would be easier if she could hold his hand. She swallowed, looking at his white knuckled grip upon the reins. She knew, no matter how much she might want his strength, that she must stand alone now. He cared for her, she knew that. But not as she wanted. His love, if any existed, had no roots. While hers were deep, connecting him to her always.
“Tell me,” she whispered as they drew to t
he towering golden doors of the Council Chamber. “If I were not Persephone…”
He scowled. “No more. Hear these words, Persephone, and know that I mean them. You do not belong with me, in my realm, at my side, in my bed or my heart. My life is without you. And yours is without me. When I leave here, know that I wish you well. But I will not think on you anymore.” His eyes bore into hers, revealing nothing more to her.
If he’d struck her she wondered if the pain would be less. When her flesh had been torn, had it hurt as much? She closed her eyes, ending the torture his gaze inflicted upon her.
She managed to turn, managed to step down from the chariot… but her knees threatened to buckle then. She felt his arms come about her, but held her hands out, warding him away. She would not look at him.
“No,” she gasped, fearing the power of his touch. “I am fine.”
She steadied herself, resting one hand on Aethon’s flank. Each breath was excruciating, but she forced the air into her lungs, forced herself to climb the steps. He was there, pushing the doors wide. She had time to see the detailed carvings, a picture story wrought into the golden surface.
And then she saw her mother.
Demeter ran, lifting her tunic to fly across the chamber and pulling her into her arms. Persephone turned in to her mother’s neck, burying her face against the familiar scent, the warm softness… And fought the urge to sob.
Demeter shook, her sobs overtaking her.
“Shh, Mother,” Persephone soothed. “I am well. And returned to you.”
She peered over her mother’s shoulder. Hades stood, his strong profile illuminated by the torch flames. So beautiful… so cold.
Demeter’s hands cupped her face, pulling back as she spoke. “You are. You are here, in my arms. Something I feared might never again happen.” She pulled Persephone close once more, squeezing her.
“We welcome you,” a voice boomed, demanding her attention.
Demeter’s hold loosened, though she gripped her hand. “Persephone,” her mother gasped, wiping the tears from her face. “Welcome to Olympus.”
Persephone blinked, blinded by the auras of so many. She knew them, recognized them from the stories her mother and Hermes… and Hades had told her. She’d seen Aphrodite… She steadied herself, remembering Hades’ warning.
For the Love of Hades (The Loves of Olympus) Page 20
