by Melody Rose
My leg jiggled in anticipation as Charon pulled up to the edge of the shore and parked the boat. Without waiting for an invitation, I jumped out of the boat, though I did stumble a little in order to regain my sea legs.
Another snicker came from Charon behind my back. I frowned and wheeled around to face the psychopomp. He’s kindly pushed his hood back and smiled at me with that wicked grin.
“I would say it’s been a pleasure, but it hasn’t,” I said with a sarcastic smile of my own.
“I relish the day when I get to collect your soul for good,” Charon sneered, his nostrils flaring as he threatened me. “It will be so rewarding to finally drop you off in Tartarus where you belong.”
With that final insult, the ferryman pushed his pole into the river and ventured away, leaving me on the shoreline.
“Yeah, you run away, you coward!” I shouted after him. “When I die, you’ll be dropping my ass off at the Elysian Fields, and you’ll choke on your words!”
I threw my arm at him as though I were throwing a baseball pitch and jumped a little in the air. It was immature and completely pointless, but it allowed me to release some of my frustration at that idiotic and creepy asshole.
Erich burned against my chest again. Since I was alone, I lifted the locket to my lips and hissed at him.
“Oh, you shut up, okay? If you’d seen him, you’d be acting way worse right now.”
“Charon isn’t the most pleasant fellow, but he gets the job done.”
It was that commanding and authoritative voice from earlier, though it was quieter rather than blasting around the cavern as though it were coming from surround sound speakers. It was right behind me, which meant that the god it belonged to was right behind me.
I squished my eyes closed and winced. I let the necklace fall back to my chest and clenched my fists at my sides. I took a deep breath before whirling around to face the god of death.
Hades was a broad-shouldered man wearing the most expensive-looking, well-tailored suit I’d ever seen in my life. I could see my reflection in the shine of his dress shoes. The black tie on the black dress shirt didn’t clash at all, but instead, they complemented one another in a way that I didn’t think was possible. He had pale skin, like moonlight on a lake, with high cheekbones and a smooth forehead, devoid of wrinkles or blemishes. His hair was a salt and pepper mix, looking like a celebrity silver fox who belonged in Hollywood.
The way he held himself, with his weight shifted to the side and one hand in his pocket, exuded confidence. The god immediately commanded the room. If I had thought that Eros or Harmonia, the only other gods I’d ever met in person, were intimidating, they was nothing compared to the lord of the Underworld that stood before me.
I never understood the prejudice between the demigods with Olympian parents and those without. They were all gods. There couldn’t be that big of a difference. But now, standing here in front of one of those Olympic gods, not only that but one of the big three, I instantly understood the big deal.
This god exuded power. While Eros was a beautifully crafted being with abilities of his own that were obvious to the naked eye, Hades encompassed the very notion of authority and dominance. It was as though he could throw up one eyebrow, and his enemy would crumple to the ground instantly.
My primal instinct to run blared at me like a fire alarm, fog horn, and cowbell all ringing at the same time. My heart stalled, and I thought I was back in that in-between space of life and death with Erich because I felt like I couldn’t get in a full breath.
Hades offered me a smirk, and I thought I might melt into a puddle right there. Not only was this god full of sovereignty, but he was also attractive as hell. Even though he assumed the form of an older man, I felt as though I could completely succumb to his embrace. I wouldn’t mind running my fingers through that salt and pepper air or stroking the firm body concealed beneath that tux.
As if he could read my thoughts, Erich seared from within the necklace. The sharp pang of pain brought me back to reality. I coughed to clear my throat and regained an ounce of my composure, which I used to step forward.
“I’m Cheyenne Paulos, daughter of Hephaestus,” I said, introducing myself to the god.
“So I heard,” Hades said. His dark blue eyes roamed over my body, venturing up and down with sharp and quick flicks. I had the distinct feeling that he was sizing up and found me about as intimidating as a lion did a blade of grass.
“I need to speak with you about a soul you recently collected,” I said, getting right to the point.
“That is what most mortals do when they travel to the Underworld before their time,” Hades answered simply. “Never a child of Hephaestus, however.”
“There aren’t many children of Hephaestus considered Grecian heroes,” I countered. “In fact, I don’t think there are any.”
“Not from the original myths, no,” Hades agreed. He offered me a half-smile and took his hand out of his pocket to gesture to the doorway. “But maybe you will be the first. Would you like to come in?”
At first, I didn’t register his words. Had the god of death just offered me a compliment? Or was it a premonition of sorts? Or was he just trying to knock me off my game with his sly words? Either way, it didn’t feel genuine, so I did my best to temper my fluttering heart.
Before I moved forward, I paused and did my own examination of Hades, eyeing him up and down. The god of death caught on to what I was doing and lowered his hands, spreading them out a little bit as though he were giving me permission to judge him.
“It is a simple invitation, Cheyenne,” Hades said innocently. “You can choose to take it or not. But if not, I will call Charon back and have him take you back to where he picked you up.”
“So, basically, I won’t get to talk to you if I don’t go inside?” I deciphered.
“Essentially,” Hades said, this time with a full dazzling smile. He thought I was clever for pointing out his obvious ultimatum. “So? Will you come inside?”
I pursed my lips and scrunched up my nose, not bothering to hide my distaste. Despite my doubts, I forced my legs forward and walked through the open doorway into the mouth of the beast.
I entered a grand foyer. My mouth dropped open immediately. The decor was completely different from the rocky, bare environment outside. It was as though I walked into the Palace of Versailles or somewhere just as grand. The ceilings stretched up at least twenty feet high and were adorned with windows depicting a spring garden full of luscious trees and bursting, bright flowers of every color. The finishings were marble and gold, including the railing of the grand staircase that fanned out like a gown to the tile floor beneath my feet.
More rooms branched off to the side through solid oak doors, wide enough for an elephant to fit through. One door stood ajar, and as I peeked through, I could see another wide room with what looked to be a table and many chairs.
Hades stood at my side with his hands behind his back, chin raised proudly. “It was a gift for my wife,” he explained. “It was created to make her feel more at home.”
“She must be accustomed to a certain way of life,” I muttered as my eyes danced from decoration to decoration, in complete awe and shock.
“It’s not exactly my taste,” Hades continued with a conceding shrug.
“I’d say not,” I commented offhandedly.
The god of death chuckled. “But for the six months she is here, we live here, and the six months I am alone, I venture back to my humble abode,” Hades said, giving me way more information than I ever thought I would get out of the god. He seemed to catch himself and coughed. “This way, Cheyenne.”
Hades ushered me towards the door that was slightly ajar. He touched the middle of my back as he led me forward, and I jumped at the coldness of his touch. It felt as though someone had pressed a jar of ice cubes against my skin.
I already had a natural aversion to the cold, but this was extreme. I exclaimed and jerked out of his reach, wiggling like someon
e had put a spider down my pants.
“What the hell?” I said through chattering teeth.
Hades curled his hand into a fist and stuffed it back into his pocket. “I’m sorry,” he said as he blinked once at me. “I forget the effect my touch has on living mortals. It has been quite a while since I’ve interacted with one.”
“It’s fine,” I said slowly, not sure what else I was supposed to say. I couldn’t exactly get mad at him. He was the lord of the dead, for Pete’s sake! And I still needed something from him, so I couldn’t get on his bad side.
“Just through here.” Hades put one hand behind his back and then held out the other one towards the door.
I led the way and pushed it open myself, and Hades kept a safe distance behind me. However, the god nearly bumped into me when I froze only two steps in the room.
Once again, the whole aesthetic surprised me. There was a massive fireplace along one wall, ablaze with an impressive flame. It ran parallel to a lengthy dining room table, made of solid wood with the original knots and grooves on display. However, the most impressive thing in the room was the feast atop the table.
A thanksgiving dinner laid out with enticing aromas. Bowls of mashed potatoes, green beans, stuffing, sweet potatoes, and cranberries littered the table. The centerpiece was a turkey, golden to perfection and still steaming with a sweet scent. One corner was completely dominated by pies. Cherry, pumpkin, and French silk caught my eye immediately.
All eighteen places were set with full silverware, plates, and wine glasses. However, only one person was present, excluding Hades and me. The woman got to her feet the minute we entered, though she was all the way at the far end of the room.
She was a tall beauty with a head of curly brown hair. It sat atop her head in a messy arrangement, but with enough style to be acceptable. Her skin was tan but smooth, as though she lived and breathed in the sunlight. Her wide smile brightened her oval face and small nose as she shuffled her way over to us. Her lime green dress cut off at her shins, popping out like an umbrella. She sashayed up to me and took my hands in hers.
Unlike Hades, Persephone’s hands were warm and felt as though I wrapped my palms around a mug of tea. I immediately liked her, and she spoke to me as though we’d know each other for years.
“Hello, Cheyenne,” she said, her voice like wind flying through the fields. “We’re so excited to have you over for dinner. Please come and take a seat.”
The goddess continued to grip my hand as she led me down the table back to where she had been originally sitting. She plopped me down in the chair across from hers, the head of the table still open for Hades, who followed behind at his own calculated pace. Persephone stole my plate from me and began to load it up with all of my favorites, even though she never asked.
“Now, rumors say that you’re allergic to apples, is that true?” Persephone asked as she slapped a spoonful of mashed potatoes on my plate and then followed it up by putting the yellow corn right on top. Just how my mom used to do it for me. Before I had a chance to answer, the goddess continued on. “I made sure not a single thing had any trace of apple. One of my best stuffing recipes normally contains apples, but I traded it out for pears. I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s--” I began.
“I’m so glad,” Persephone said, sensing my response before I finished it. “You’ll have to try it first and let me know what you think. Hades says it's his favorite thing I make, but I know how much he enjoys my lavender orange cookies.” The goddess threw up her hands after she set my plate back down in front of me, now loaded up as if to say, “What can you do?”
She took her place across from me and grabbed a bottle of wine, pouring me a glass. Then she poured Hades one too, but passed over herself, talking the entire time.
“It’s been so long since we’ve had guests, I was elated when Hades told me you were coming,” she said rapidly. “I knew I had to whip up something special for you.”
“But that wasn’t that long ago,” I said, curious about how long the Tunnel of Fear had actually been for her to cook all of this in that amount of time if what she was saying was true.
“Oh, I’m really a fast cook,” Persephone said as she waved me off. “And I don’t nearly get to do it as much when I’m down here as I would like to. This guy has such specific tastes.” She reached out and took her husband’s hand in her own, unperturbed by his chilling grip.
Hades offered his wife one of those closed-lipped smiles before taking a sip of his wine.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Persephone said. She flapped out her napkin and put it on her lap. “I’m talking so much that I haven’t even given you a chance to eat. Go on, dig in.” She adhered to her own advice by scooping a forkful of sweet potatoes into her mouth, licking off a stray bit of marshmallow.
I looked down at my plate and felt the saliva gather in my mouth at the prospect of it. I reached for the wine glass to start there and give myself some liquid courage when an interesting and familiar smell zapped up my nostrils. I held the wine to my nose to get a better smell. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hades pause, his own wine glass on the way to his lips.
The wine was a rich red, but as I held it up to the firelight, I noticed that it wasn’t red at all, but more of a purple color. I recognized it, but for some reason, the word wasn’t coming to my mind at the moment.
“What kind of wine is this?” I asked, putting the glass to my lips.
Just as I tipped the glass back, the lord of the dead said in a soft voice, nearly a whisper, “Pomegranate.”
10
My mind exploded in warning. My arm jerked down, dropping the glass on the table. It shattered on impact, and the plum liquid spilled out between our plates, staining the wooden table. Normally, people would back up from the glass or rush in to help with the spill. Hades and Persephone did neither of those things. The two gods sat still and looked at me with blank expressions.
I let the wine ooze out onto the table, weaving between the dishes. It ventured closer to my edge of the table, and I quickly grabbed my napkin to block the dangerous liquid from touching me.
“Pomegranate wine?” I balked at the two hosts. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Really?”
Persephone suddenly dropped the excited and exuberant hostess act and slouched back into her chair. She shrugged as she wrapped her arm over the top of her chair casually. “It was worth a try,” the goddess said. “It worked on me.”
I pushed my filled plate away from me, letting it clatter into the other pieces of china noisily. “Cut the crap. I’m not going to eat any of this and be stuck here. I know my myths, okay? So why don’t you just get rid of this arrangement so we can talk frankly.”
Persephone sighed and rolled her eyes. She wiped her hand as though she were swatting a fly. In line with her action, the food disappeared. The spilled wine, the place settings, and all of the delicious smelling dishes went away. The table was now clear, and I felt my senses return to normal, no longer enticed by the meal in front of me.
Hades leaned forward and put his forearms on the table, interlacing his fingers. His eyebrows lowered, casting serious and stark shadows across his face.
“You are rather impressive, Cheyenne,” the god of death said, the tone of his voice changing from a nervous calm one to that of an astute businessman.
I realized that, for the first time, I was seeing the real Hades and Persephone. He wasn’t the gentle giant from before, reserved and cautious. She wasn’t some bubbly suburban chef, either, with big eyes and a bright smile. The way the two of them looked at me immediately told me that this was a joint operation. No matter what the myths said about Persephone being Hades’s unwilling wife, it was clear that the two were a dynamic duo, in an equal and conniving partnership.
Instinctually, I pushed my chair back slightly, if for nothing else than to put some distance between them and me. It was subtle and didn’t make that much of a difference, but it certainly made me feel better.
<
br /> “I’m not that impressive,” I countered, trying to undermine my abilities in the hope that they underestimated me. “It was a simple trick that any demigod who knew their basic myths could see through.”
“Not just with discovering the pomegranate,” Hades said, “but also with Charon’s boat.”
“Oh,” I said, my voice lowering. “That.”
“Yes, that.” Hades smirked, though unlike before, this one didn’t reach his eyes. “I assume that is a gift from your father?”
“It has to be,” Persephone stepped in. She looked at her own fingernails, making ticking sounds as she picked at them. “Though most of Hephaestus’s children have fire abilities.”
“That is most common, yes,” Hades said as he crudely looked me up and down again. “And I wouldn’t be surprised if you had that as well. You’ve been gifted with quite a lot of supernatural abilities, so we’ve been told.”
“So you’ve been told?” I repeated, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice. “You’ve heard that about me, and you mentioned the apples earlier. Are the gods… are they talking about me?”
“Of course they are!” Persephone laughed, her words coming out loud and erratic. Her eyes took on a mad glint to them as she slammed her hands on the table and leaned in towards me. “Hephaestus’s first child in one hundred years and she is the one everyone says is going to make the Ultimate Weapon.”
I felt my face grow pale. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, don’t play dumb,” Persephone snarled. “It doesn’t become you.”
“We’ve heard the prophecy,” Hades informed me. “And it deeply concerns me.”
“It concerns you?” I asked, confused. “How? It’s about defeating the immortal monsters, not the gods.”
“Where do you think all of those immortal monsters are going to end up?” Hades asked sharply. He pointed a finger into the table for emphasis. “Right here. So yes, this prophecy about the Ultimate Weapon does indeed concern me. So consequently, you concern me.”
