“I was shielded. I didn’t get a sense of power from him like I do from the two of you.”
I gave Hades a puzzled look, and he inclined his head letting me know he’d explain later.
“I’m so glad you came for me.” She beamed at me, and her smile was so beautiful my breath caught.
“I wasn’t going to just leave you in the ocean.” I shuddered, remembering those crashing waves.
I played her words back through my mind to find a loophole in her story, but I was too tired to think. I felt myself drifting off. Through the cotton sheet I could feel Hades’ reassuring hand on my leg. I thought of the new word I’d chosen to close my mind to intruders. Adios.
When I woke up, Hades was slouched against the wooden headboard, reading a book with a blue cover. I could feel the warmth of him through the sheets and had instinctively snuggled closer during my nap.
I yawned, stretching, and glanced over to the couch where Aphrodite lay curled up, red hair cascading down the upholstery onto the floor. A look out the window told me it was dark outside, but I couldn’t tell if it was early dark or late dark.
“How long have I been asleep?” My voice was hoarse.
“A few hours,” Hades said softly, power blanketing the room so we couldn’t be heard. I studied the shimmering shield and realized we couldn’t be seen either.
“What time is it?” I asked, sitting up.
Hades glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “A little after two.”
I blinked. I’d slept the entire day away. “Why—”
“There’s a physical toll sometimes. Fighting that much charm, taking in that much power. You’re not supposed to be doing any of this yet.”
I nodded. There was a reason no one talked about child-gods. Before maturity, a deity’s body just wasn’t meant to handle much power.
I put a hand to my throbbing forehead and frowned. “Did you figure something out about Aphrodite?”
“I talked to her for a while after you drifted off. She’s not privy to Zeus’ plans.”
“But she’s a part of them,” I reminded him, uncomfortable with the realization that I didn’t want him to get too friendly with Aphrodite.
Hades shrugged. “She doesn’t want to be. I think she’s afraid of him. You’re right. She needs our help, Persephone.”
I pushed the blue spaghetti straps of my nightgown back up my arms from where they had fallen. “She needs to learn to fit in then. Right now she sticks out like a sore thumb.”
“I taught her to do a glamour,” Hades replied. “Socialization she’ll have to learn from you.”
“I thought she knew everything.” I blinked at my snarky tone, but Hades didn’t seem to notice. Was I still jealous? I’d thought that feeling fled with the charm, but hearing Hades say she needed help…
Gods, Persephone, he can’t win for losing. If he doesn’t want to help her, you think he’s a jerk, and if he does, you get jealous? What’s wrong with you?
“Not how to blend. It’s natural for you because you were raised human, but for the rest of us…We’re a different species. It can be hard, even for me, to understand humans all the time. She might be great with humans. Zeus is. But her attitude toward them may be different from what you’re accustomed to. She needs to live in this world, Persephone. The Underworld isn’t going to be an option for her.”
“She can stay with me.”
“Bad idea.” Hades shook his head. “Your mother won’t like that one bit, and I don’t feel comfortable with her under your roof.”
I suppressed a smile. Hades could be so overprotective. “I guess she can stay with Melissa then. Learn what normal girls her age do. I can count on Melissa to keep tabs on her.”
Hades hesitated. “Is that wise?”
“I’ll have her swear an oath not to harm Melissa, or her mother.”
“No, have her swear an oath to protect Melissa and her mother from all harm,” Hades corrected. “So she can’t stand by and watch something happen to them.”
“I’m going to have to work on the wording.” I’d seen enough movies about angry supercomputers or robots to know better than to ask for protection from all harm. I winced and rubbed my temples.
“I was afraid of that.” Hades traced my forehead with his fingertips. I didn’t have the energy to ask—just waited for him to clarify. “I gave you too much power. Your headaches are getting worse.”
“I’d rather have a headache than ever feel that again.” I shifted so I faced Hades. “Have you ever been charmed?”
Hades opened his mouth then closed it, gaze going distant. “I’ll never know.”
He spoke so low, I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly. “What do you mean?”
He leaned back. “Zeus is like you. He was born, not created. At the time, we hadn’t seen anything like him. He was so much younger than us, so vulnerable. But as he grew into his powers…” Hades spread his hands in front of him in a helpless gesture. “We’d never seen charm before; it was something completely unique to him. We didn’t have any resistance to it. He told us how terrible our parents were, and we believed him.” Hades shrugged. “He wasn’t lying. But, the rebellion…afterward, we were never sure whose idea it was. Or when exactly we’d agreed to it. Then suddenly he was King of the Gods, we had a mountain, and Hera was married to him. It all just happened out of nowhere.”
“No wonder you hate him.”
Hades looked up at me surprised. “For that? No. We’ll never stop owing him for getting us out from under the Titans. It was horrible. No matter what he’s done since, we all still owe him a debt of gratitude. I don’t hate him for that. Just…everything after.”
“But you think he charmed you?”
“We’re not sure. And he was so young, I don’t know that he could ever be sure either. Like I said, charm was new. But we worried, so we found ways to resist, and the others found ways to pass that resistance down so that no other gods could be controlled. It’s too dangerous.”
I blushed. “I think you would know. I was so…possessive. It was like it wasn’t even me. I could feel myself going crazy. I just couldn’t stop it.” I shook my head. Dwelling on it wouldn’t do anyone any good.
“In most cases, the charm will feel more subtle. People shouldn’t realize they’re bending to your will. That’s the difference between controlled and uncontrolled charm. Uncontrolled charm is just a crazy mess. She was using too much to be effective. Had she known what she was doing, that would have been a show of power, or a fatal blow, though to my knowledge you’re the only one who…”
He didn’t have to finish the sentence. I was the only one who had ever used charm to kill someone.
Hades stifled a yawn, and I immediately felt guilty. “We don’t have to do this tonight. You’re tired.”
He shook his head. “I’ll be fine. As for sensing another deity’s powers, that’s just an instinct you’re going to have to learn to trust. You need to master shields so she doesn’t find out you’re not fully vested in your powers.”
“Okay.” I already knew how to identify shields. Shields are pretty much just a wall of power with thought behind them. They could keep a conversation private or make you invisible. Some shields could prevent teleportation, like the one Boreas used against me in the clearing last year. There were stronger shields, meant to block the use of any divine powers, such as the ones keeping the Titans in Tartarus and away from the other souls, but I was nowhere near powerful enough to cast that.
I practiced for a while, never tampering with the shield Hades had left up. My cheeks heated when I realized what conclusion Aphrodite would come to if she woke up and found our bed cloaked from her vision.
When I finished practicing, Hades channeled the excess power from me. When married gods shared any intimate contact, their minds were open to each other. Hades and I hadn’t done anything beyond kissing, but channeling power apparently counted.
Marriage with gods was largely political. Love did
n’t often factor into the equation, but power did. An exchange solidified the marriage; the amount varied depending on the gods. Some gods kept as much of their own power as possible, others drained all the power from their spouse, and some chose equilibrium. The gods who chose to be equals were always connected, could always sense each other or hear one another, no matter how far away they actually were.
For the thousandth time, I tried to turn my thoughts to Thanatos. My mind threw up a wall to block the thoughts. I felt Hades respond to it. He was curious, and a little hurt, but he respected me too much to ask. I gave up and discretely searched Hades’ mind for the slightest indication he’d thought anything about sitting so close to me, on a bed, at night, cloaked from view from anyone else in the room.
Not a single passing thought. Damn. That was almost insulting.
I bet he would think about her.
Hades snorted, breaking contact with me as the last of my headache receded. “Not likely.” He paused. “You shouldn’t feel guilty about charming all those humans,” he said, incorrectly guessing what was bothering me. The humans he referred to included pretty much anyone I’d met between my sixteenth birthday and my time in the Underworld. Before I had control of my charm, I’d caused all kinds of problems. “Or Boreas. You didn’t know what you were doing to the humans. I promise, they weren’t as bad off as you were today. Boreas deserved it.”
I frowned at Hades to show him I didn’t appreciate him poking around in my mind. His raised eyebrow reminded me that I’d been poking in his mind first. I shrugged in apology. “I don’t feel guilty about Boreas.” Hades gave me a look. “I don’t!” I protested. “I should, but I don’t. I feel guilty that I don’t feel guilty. Does that make sense?”
“No.”
“What kind of a person kills someone and doesn’t feel bad about it?”
“The kind who met his last victim, narrowly avoided her fate, and watched her best friend die at his hands. He doesn’t deserve your pity.”
“I know. He deserved worse than what I did to him, but not feeling even the slightest bit of guilt? That makes me a monster.”
“You can’t keep comparing yourself to humans. Gods have a stronger sense of justice. We see a wrong and we fix it. There are not as many shades of grey for us.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “You’re the furthest thing from a monster I’ve ever met.” He yawned and I turned around, shifting until I was lying down. “I can sleep on the floor,” he said with another yawn.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
He hesitated, putting his book on the nightstand. “I don’t think—”
“I dream about that day all the time,” I said, voice so soft he had to lean closer to hear me. “I see her die, over and over again, and sometimes I don’t get away.” I felt his reassuring arm wrap around me and leaned into him. “It’s better…when I know you’re here.” I met his gaze, “I’m not afraid to sleep. I know when I’m with you, I’m safe.”
His arm tightened around me, and he turned off the light without a word. I felt the shield drop away from us and fell asleep to the soothing sound of his beating heart.
Chapter VII
The next morning I woke to the sound of a shower running. Hades was still sleeping, one arm draped possessively over my middle. I smiled and let myself enjoy the feeling of his arm around me for just a minute before I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him, and began packing. The water shut off, and I grabbed the extra outfit out of the unicorn bag for Aphrodite.
The door opened, and Aphrodite stepped into the room wearing a towel. I glanced over at Hades, glad he was still asleep, and handed her the outfit, motioning for her to keep quiet. The tank top and short skirt looked amazing on her, and I realized I’d need to have a talk with Cassandra later. The clothes fit her too well to be coincidence.
I ducked into the bathroom and slipped into a blue sundress and clipped on my necklace. I smiled and touched one of the pointed green leaves. I’d have to get Hades something. But what could I possibly get for the god who had everything?
By the time I was ready, Hades was awake. We ate breakfast before settling our bill and leaving the island. I made a quick phone call to the ferry company and left a glowing review for the captain I’d charmed into coming back for us then made Hades do the same from the hotel phone. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was all I could think to do. Then I called my mom when we reached the car and explained the situation. We filled Aphrodite in on our plan and had her swear an oath regarding the safety of the priestesses.
“Okay,” she agreed in a cheerful voice.
“You don’t have any questions?” I asked, surprised.
“You’re trying to protect me. Why would I question you?”
“Imagine that.” Hades gave me an amused look.
I narrowed my eyes at him, sure he was remembering the first time he rescued me.
“See how much smoother things go when you tell people you’re trying to help them?” I poked him with my index finger and unlocked the car.
“Touché,” Hades said. “On that note, whatever you do, don’t piss off Demeter.”
Aphrodite nodded, looking so worried I couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t look so scared, my mom is really nice.”
“To you, sometimes.” Hades snickered. “And those who’ve sworn allegiance to her.”
I frowned. “My mom is nice to everyone.”
Hades shook his head, but didn’t push the subject. “Just walk on eggshells,” he warned Aphrodite.
It was dusk when we arrived at Melissa’s house. The porch light shined like a beacon at the end of their long gravel driveway. I noticed Mom’s car and drew a deep breath. I was still angry with her for lying about Zeus but returned her hug when we entered Melissa’s home. No matter what, she was still my mom.
I hugged Melissa then introduced everyone to Aphrodite. She gave Melissa a cool appraisal, clearly not impressed with what she saw, and I winced. We’d have to talk about manners later.
“So you’re Persephone’s human?”
Or now. I grabbed Aphrodite’s arm. “Excuse us,” I told Melissa and dragged Aphrodite down the hall. “Don’t ever talk to her like that again!”
“Like what?” Aphrodite asked, all innocence.
“Like she’s beneath us. Like anyone is beneath us. She’s not my human; she’s a person—”
“Yes,” Aphrodite agreed. “Of course she’s a person. She’s human. She is beneath us.”
I gaped at her cavalier attitude and looked to Hades for help. He hadn’t said a word since we’d walked into the house. I followed his gaze to Melissa’s mother, crossing back and forth behind the half wall that separated the living room from the kitchen.
“Would anyone like cookies?” she called, putting a plate down on the bar. “They’re just ready…” Her voice trailed off when she felt the power of Hades’ stare.
“Minthe?” he breathed.
She met his eyes, and her face paled.
Melissa and I glanced at each other in confusion. What was this? “Treat her like you’d treat me,” I told Aphrodite quickly. “And listen to what she says. She’s your best bet at fitting in here. You can’t just walk around like you’re better than everyone—”
“But I am.”
I rolled my eyes. I didn’t have time for this. “Don’t act like it,” I snapped, moving away from Aphrodite and closer to Melissa.
“Hades, I wanted to tell you—” Mrs. Minthe began.
“But I thought it best she not further invoke Hera’s anger,” my mother interrupted in clipped tones.
“I thought you were dead.” Hades’ voice was careful, as if he was trying very hard to bury whatever emotions were at war within him.
“What’s going on?” Melissa asked.
“She’s the Minthe.” I managed to work the words out of my dry throat. “Isn’t she?”
Melissa knew the myth. We’d both heard it in Latin class, and then later, after my winter in the Underworld, we’d a
nalyzed every facet of that myth to figure out what kind of girls Hades liked. Melissa met my eyes, looking pale and shocked.
“Hades and I used to see each other before I was a priestess of Demeter,” Mrs. Minthe explained.
“Hera got jealous and turned her into the mint plant,” Hades added.
“Why would Hera be jealous?” Melissa interjected. She blinked, seeming surprised at the sound of her own voice, and I knew that question had been the least important one on her mind. She’d just blurted it out without thinking.
Hades hesitated, but my mother had no problem filling in the gap. “Hades and Hera were a couple long before she married Zeus. Didn’t he tell you, Persephone?”
I didn’t bother to answer her smug question. No, he hadn’t told me, but I’d already guessed. He’d always been unusually defensive on Hera’s behalf. He’d been open with me about every other relationship he’d ever had. Obviously, that one was a sore subject, and I saw no reason to get upset about a relationship that had ended when dirt was new.
Aphrodite gave my mother a strange look and stepped closer to Hades in a show of solidarity.
“So you’re nymphs,” Aphrodite exclaimed, indicating Melissa and her mother with a wave of her hand. At Melissa’s questioning look, she clarified, “It’s easier to turn a nymph into a plant. Humans are easier to turn into animals. It’s not impossible, mind you…”
“I’m a nymph?” Melissa asked her mom.
“Half,” Mrs. Minthe replied. “Honey, the difference between a human and a nymph is so inconsequential it’s hardly worth mentioning. We work well with nature. Unlike the human myths, turning into trees or rivers isn’t typical of our race, unless cursed.”
Melissa’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. “Oh, so you got turned into a plant? Why?”
“It made sure even her soul was out of my reach.” Hades’ voice was bitter.
“Demeter rescued me. In return, I swore to be her priestess for all time.”
I wondered how many of my mom’s priestesses were refugees from other gods. I was about to ask when Hades interrupted. “Well, it’s good to see you, Minthe. I’m happy that you’re still alive.” He turned to my mother. “I am grateful to you for that.”
Daughter of the Earth and Sky Page 6
