Daughter of Persephone

by Helen Scott

  I couldn't move, though. Not when there was another white hovery thing like the one I had seen in the bar. This one was more defined, though. Her shape, her face, everything was visible.

  “Well, don't just stand there, dear. I made some apple pie, just like you've always loved.” The old woman's voice sounded as though it were coming from far away or like an echo of a voice that used to resonate in the room.

  My heart felt like a lump of ice in my chest. She turned to face me more fully, and a small whimper escaped my mouth. Ghosts weren't real. I knew that. There had never been any evidence of them existing, so what was in front of me had to be some kind of illusion, right? The form moved toward me, gliding gracefully like a princess in one of those old-school animated movies. She was smiling and nodding her head encouragingly, but all I wanted to do was turn and run. My feet, however, would not cooperate with that idea and stubbornly stayed stuck on the same patch of floor they had been on since I’d walked into the room.

  “Her powers are already manifesting. We need to shield her soon.” I heard Hunter say to the others, but I couldn't quite bring myself to focus on his crazy while I was trying to convince myself that I was sane and what I was seeing wasn't real.

  When she extended her hand to me as if she wanted me to take it, I swore I almost fainted. “Come on, dear. Don't leave the boys waiting. They've been looking for you for quite some time.” She sighed and moved back to the counter, as though she was going to start cleaning, or cooking something else. “It'll be nice having another woman around the house, not that I can go far, but still, I'm sure we will run into each other every once in a while.”

  “You guys seeing this?” I asked softly.

  “Oh, they can't see me. At least, not yet. Maybe once they're bonded to you. It's all they've talked about since they came here. There was a nice family who lived here before them, but they never cooked. It broke my heart. All those takeout containers and microwave meals . . .” She made a sound of frustration, or maybe indignation, as she continued to wipe down the already clean counter.

  “Poppy, you with us?” Emmett was suddenly right in front of me, blocking the, uh, ghost, from view.

  The whole world came rushing back in, and I felt as if I had taken my first breath in minutes. The air stung my lungs and whistled through my nose as I took one deep breath after another.

  “What the hell just happened?” I whispered to Emmett, and the man actually smiled at me, as though I was joining their crazy club. When he stepped to the side, moving to a stool and taking a seat, the woman was gone. “There was a woman.” I gestured to where she'd been standing, unable to get the rest of the sentence out. It sounded too weird in my head, so I knew it would sound even worse out loud.

  “A ghost?” Hunter asked calmly as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

  “Ghosts aren't real.” The words popped out of my mouth in an automatic response, as though I was talking to Rox. She loved the supernatural, wanted to believe in everything, and had made it her hobby, or rather, her goal in life to convince me of the existence of things we didn't understand and couldn't explain. Like ghosts.

  “Then what would you call what you saw?” Hunter jumped on my words.

  “I don't know.” I paused as I tried to come up with something convincing. “A trick of the light.”

  “Right, and how much detail does a trick of the light have? A voice? A movement? Did it talk to you? How does light accomplish all that?”

  “Light can do all kinds of stuff that people wouldn't have believed even a few decades ago. What's to say that this isn't just light curving strangely around something?”

  “Okay, then, so it's a strange reflection that looks exactly like a person. How do you explain the voice?” Hunter asked as he went along with my theory, only to poke holes in it.

  I stared at him for a moment before I spun on my heel and walked toward a door that looked as if it might lead outside. None of them tried to stop me, and once I was outside, I understood why. We weren't exactly in the middle of nowhere, but we weren't in the city anymore, either. Without a car, there was no way I was going anywhere, at least not without putting myself in even more danger.

  A warm hand landed on my shoulder. I hadn't even noticed anyone come out behind me. When I turned, I was surprised to find Knox watching me. All six foot whatever of him compared with my five two would normally be intimidating. He wasn't, though. Even though I had literally watched him turn from a creepy wolf thing into a human, part of me knew he wouldn't hurt me.

  “Listen, Poppy, I know this all sounds crazy. Believe me. The first time they spouted all this nonsense to me, I just about knocked them all out, but it's true.”

  “How can any of that be true?”

  “I can't explain why the world is the way it is. That's just a little too philosophical for my blood. What I can do, though, is show you, but we need to go back into the house for that.”

  I ran my gaze over him, taking in everything about him and trying to figure out how sincere he was. His copper-colored skin and his dark hair were both kissed by the sun. I only had to see the blond streaks in his hair to know that. But I also knew that his skin was naturally dark, just like his hair. He looked warm, like the perfect summer day, and I had to resist the urge to go to him and snuggle into that warmth.

  Knox's dark eyes studied mine, and a small grin tugged at the corners of his perfectly kissable mouth, as if he knew what was running through my mind. His full lips were made all the more prominent by the dark hair of his goatee. I let my eyes drift lower and took in his toned, muscular form outlined by the black T-shirt and jeans that he wore. The man was f-i-n-e, pure beef cake. He knew it, too, judging from the look on his face, but he didn't rely on it, which was a pleasant surprise.

  “Come on, I want to hear all about the ghost in this house. They haven't made themselves known to us, so there must not be any ill will there.”

  “She seemed to like you guys, especially since you cook,” I said hesitantly as I put my hand in his outstretched one. Warmth and electricity flowed into me, and suddenly, all I could think about was getting him into my bed and shamelessly riding him. I had never been embarrassed by sex, having always been taught that it was just a natural function, but usually, I at least got to know the guy a little before I started having fantasies about him. Not that I'd ever run across anyone as sexy as these three guys.

  “We do like food a whole lot. Want me to make you something?”

  “Eggs Benedict?”

  “Coming right up,” he said as he looped an arm around my waist, tucking me into him. I was such a shorty compared to him that it made me want to laugh. I could fit under his arm; my head was level with his chest. It was ridiculous.

  “Told you he'd get her,” Emmett's voice said as we came back into the house. “Hunter here was being a little impatient.”

  “I said I'd go talk to her, and I did. She chose to come back, and said she'd tell me about the ghost in the house.” Knox smiled at me, and it was like the sun breaking through the clouds.

  “Oh, really? So you do believe in ghosts?” Hunter asked with a challenge glinting in his eyes.

  “I guess I have to until I figure out if it was something else or not.” I shrugged. It seemed to irritate him how reasonable I was being, but the truth was that it took a lot to ruffle my feathers, at least normally. My feathers were ruffled both when I'd seen a ghost and when I’d woken up here.

  The smell of the ham and egg cooking wafted to my nose as they started to sizzle in the pan, waking the hunger gnawing at my belly. If I didn't get some food in me soon, I'd be chewing someone's arm off, and at that moment, the someone was most likely to be Hunter. The kitchen fell silent while Knox cooked, as though they could tell that if they pissed me off right now, it would be no good for anyone. If I let myself get too hungry, I’d turn into a bomb about to go off. I got mean and bitchy and hit where it hurt both emotionally and sometimes physically, depending on how grumpy I was.

/>   A plate was suddenly under my nose with a toasted muffin, ham, and a poached egg covered in a decadent Hollandaise sauce. My mouth watered at the sight, and if I wasn't careful, I'd be wiping drool off the table. As I cut into the egg, the perfectly cooked yolk oozed out all over the ham and muffin. The combination made sense to me—the crunch of the toasted muffin, the saltiness of the ham, and the richness of the egg and sauce. It all added up to the perfect breakfast. If only everything else in my life made as much sense.

  Chapter Four

  Emmett

  I watched as Poppy ate. Her bites were dainty, and the way she held her silverware was more European, with the knife helping the food onto the fork instead of switching hands the way Americans did. A blob of sauce was still on the outside edge of her lip, and part of me wanted to go over there and lick it off. I knew that Hunter had said our reactions to the future queen would be strong when we finally found her, but I wasn't expecting this wave of lust that kept hitting me over and over again.

  Her delicate tongue swiped out from her mouth and captured the rogue sauce. I had to stop myself from groaning at the sight. When I looked away, I found Hunter's eyes just as captivated by her. They were almost glassy and unfocused, as though he was drugged. His meal remained untouched in front of him as Knox put some eggs in front of me as well, before starting on his own breakfast.

  “Aren't you hungry, Hunter?” Poppy asked.

  “Huh?” He snapped out of his stupor as though he only just realized that there was food in front of him. He cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, I was just letting it cool.”

  He was just as hopeless as I was when it came to her; I could see it in his eyes. Poppy's dark, chestnut-brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun on top of her head, which only made me think of ways to mess her hair up. Having her underneath me in bed was the primary one that came to mind. The tendrils that curved around her face were tempting enough, never mind the perfectly pink lips, the long, elegant line of her neck that having her hair up had exposed, and the captivating brown eyes. The girl was going to be the death of me. I was sure of it.

  The four of us fit quite well around the kitchen table. It almost felt complete. I knew we had a long way to go, but at least it was a start. I was only about halfway through my breakfast when Hunter decided to dive in.

  “So do you want to tell us about the ghost? Or should we tell you about your heritage?” the redhead asked.

  I sighed. The man was as tone deaf as they came sometimes. Poppy's eyes widened, and the relaxed smile that had been on her face disappeared. Knox was an incredible cook, but even his food couldn't stop the impact of Hunter's bluntness.

  “I, uh . . .” Poppy's feminine voice roamed across my skin as she spoke, almost as if it were trying to pull me to her. For a moment, I thought she'd just clam up, and then Hunter would overwhelm her again, but she did the opposite. She took a deep breath and said, “The ghost is an older woman—I'd guess in her sixties or seventies. She likes to cook and offered me some apple pie when I came in, which she somehow knew was one of my favorite desserts. She looks like a stereotypical grandma, for lack of a better way to describe her.” Poppy paused and looked around the room. “Sorry, if you're listening. I'm not trying to offend you.” I wanted to smile at the sincerity in her voice. She truly didn't want to offend the ghost. It was adorable.

  When she looked back at us, she continued. “She knows that you can't see her, and won't until we are bonded, whatever the hell that means. She's been listening to you talk and likes that you cook and don't just get takeout all the time like the previous owners.”

  “I wouldn't have guessed that. I guess it's a good thing we've got Knox, then, huh?” I say with a smile.

  “What about her dress? Could you tell what era she was from?” Hunter's analytical voice came out, and the last thing I wanted was for him to tell Poppy about her heritage with that mindset.

  “Maybe the seventies? She was in a longish skirt with an apron over it. Long hair braided into a bun. Kinda generic, really.”

  We all went quiet for a while, thinking about this woman who had been observing us. I wondered what was keeping her there. Why was she stuck in this house? And was she limited to the kitchen? Or could she show up in our bedrooms, too?

  “So let's talk about you,” Hunter started out.

  “Maybe one of us should take over, Hunt. You know, give her a different perspective?” I asked, hoping he would relent. The guy liked to think of himself as a somewhat alpha personality; the problem was that he just wasn't. Sure, he wanted to be, but that was different from actually being an alpha-type personality, and I for one was glad that none of us were that dominant, especially if everything went down the way it was supposed to. When he nodded, I smiled. The guy wasn't alpha at all.

  “Okay, so I'm going to try not to freak you out. If you get overwhelmed, just knock on the table or something, and I'll stop.” I waited until she nodded but noticed that she was watching me with wary eyes. “What do you remember from last night?” I asked, wanting to start slow and build up to the big reveal.

  “Knox was some kind of beast, and then he wasn't.”

  “He was in his hellhound form. Just like how ghosts exist, so do many other supernatural beings.”

  Her knuckles rapped on the table.

  I stopped, and in a quiet voice, she asked, “Other supernatural beings?”

  “I was trying not to overwhelm you, so I didn't list them. If you want, I can tell you, but it might scare you.”

  She nodded as though she understood, or was she agreeing with me to list them? I wasn't sure, but I figured holding off until she explicitly asked what else was out there was probably the best course of action. What I didn't expect was her follow-up question.

  “Can you show me your hellhound form?”

  I nodded and warily said, “It's not pretty to look at, but that's by design. I won't hurt you, though.”

  When she nodded, I slid off my seat and began to strip. I only glanced up once to see her eyes hungrily taking in my form. Part of me demanded that I slow down, let her enjoy the show, but I also didn't want her to know I had caught on. Besides, now wasn't the time. When I was down to my boxers, I shoved them down and felt the cool air over my warm skin. The difference between my temperature and the temperature of the room grew at an exponential rate as my body morphed into that of the hound.

  The process wasn't painful; there was no tearing skin or breaking bones. It was magic, pure and simple. I stood tall and proud, feeling the shadows around me and sensing them elsewhere in the room. Hellhounds worked best in the dark, skirting from shadow to shadow as they tracked their prey. Finally, I let my eyes wander up to my queen's face. She was just as beautiful through the hound's eyes as she was through my human ones. The most satisfying thing was seeing the reflected red glow. She didn't know it yet, but her powers were responding to my change and making themselves known. I shifted back and redressed under her watchful eyes. The heat I felt in my body slowly dispersed but did nothing to alter the warmth in her gaze.

  “Does that help?” I asked after I sat back down.

  She nodded, and there was a faint blush covering her cheeks. Gods, what I wouldn't give to put that on her face again in private.

  “Okay, so we've established that I'm a hellhound. So are Knox, as you know, and Hunter.” I paused as her wide eyes looked between the three of us. I waited for her to knock again, but she didn't, so I continued. “I'm not sure how much you know about ancient Greece and their gods, but we make up Cerberus. Our job is to guard the gates of the Underworld.”

  “Isn't Cerberus a three-headed dog?” she interjected, and I silently rejoiced that she wasn't so freaked out, she couldn't ask questions when they came to her.

  “In a way, yes. There are three of us and we are hellhounds, but we aren't just one being as so many of the stories assume,” Knox chimed in. I had expected him to be more of a meat head when we’d first met, but he was actually extremely insightful
.

  “Here's the big part,” I said, trying to help her brace herself. “The ancient gods were and still are real beings; they just don't live in this realm. They come from Mount Olympus. Think of it kind of like an alternate reality that is linked to ours by special doorways.” I paused, and as expected, she knocked.

  “You're telling me that Zeus and all them, they're real?”

  I nodded.

  She looked to Knox and Hunter for confirmation, and when they both nodded as well, she took a deep breath, releasing it slowly before asking, “Why should I believe any of this? You could all just be missing some crayons from your box, if you know what I mean.”

  “I haven't heard it put exactly like that before, but sure, if you want to believe we are crazy, you certainly can. The trouble with that is you're a descendant of Persephone and Hades. The simple fact that you can see ghosts now is a testament to that. Plus, you've seen me turn into a hellhound and back again. I'm not sure what we can do to convince you,” I said, hoping she wouldn't need too much more convincing. There was only so much we could show her without taking her to the Underworld itself, and she definitely wasn't ready for that yet.

  “My mom was a social worker, and my dad was a banker. There was nothing magical about them.”

  “True, but if you go back a few generations, you will find the source of the magic that lives in your blood.”

  “Shouldn't there be someone else closer to the throne who is supposed to take over?”

  “There was for many years, but now the closest person to the throne is you. Besides, it's partially up to the pendant and who it chooses. Even if there had been someone with a stronger lineage, it may still have chosen you. There is magic at work within it that is beyond my understanding.” The urge to tell her everything was so strong, I had to bite my cheek to prevent myself from spilling everything all at once. I was sure that if I did that, she would run for the hills and never look back.