That Fatal Kiss (30 page)

Clicking her tongue in annoyance, the goddess removed her cloak and rose to her feet. She frowned at the politely expectant look on his face. “You don’t think I can manage it,” she accused.

“I don’t
know
what you can manage,” he admitted, “which is why I’m worried. Understand that this display I request is solely for the purpose of relieving my mind.”

“Oh, very well,” Persephone huffed. She looked about for a suitable target, finally choosing a sturdy olive tree across the courtyard.

Hades crossed his arms and watched with interest as Persephone focused on the tree. She brought up her hands, took in a deep breath, and shut her eyes. She opened them a moment later and swore.

“What are you attempting?” he asked.

“When I was younger, I envied Artemis her skill with her arrows, only I could never master their use, much to her amusement. One day, when she laughed outright at my failure to shoot an apple from a nearby tree, I lost my temper. I threw down the bow, snapped the arrow in half, and thoughtlessly extended my hands, as you saw me do just now. Two streams of lightning shot from them, merging into a massive bolt which hit the tree and reduced it to ash in an instant.”

“Seems appropriate for a daughter of Zeus. And impressive.”

“It would be more impressive if I could do it right
now
,” she mumbled under her breath. As she spoke, she felt a tingle in the palms of her hand and remembered that she’d been very angry the first time she’d thrown lightning. And Zeus, from whom she must have drawn the divine fire, was almost always in a rage when he did it. Persephone called upon every fiery feeling she’d ever known, which resulted in a bit more tingling and a few sparks only.

Her head snapped toward Hades when she heard him cough. She again searched for a sign of amusement but what she found was admiration. Hades believed in her might and awaited merely its show. Persephone’s heart swelled with feeling for him, only to ache at the sudden thought of Hades coming to harm from the serpent they would seek out on the morrow. Then a true fury arose within her as an image filled her mind of Typhon laying Hades low.

The goddess faced the olive tree. Her hands moved, reaching for and plucking out of the air a bolt of lightning which struck the tree with a ferocity that resounded throughout the courtyard.

“That’s good,” Persephone heard Hades say, “but it took too long. Try again.”

Imagining Typhon falling upon him, she threw another bolt out into the garden, setting several more trees ablaze.

“More, faster!”

Reaching into the air about her head, the goddess tore out one, two, three licks of lightning and brought down the entire western wall of the palace.

“You’ve just demolished our bedchamber, Kore.”

Persephone’s hands swirled gracefully and in seconds all was restored. Breathing heavily, she turned to face Hades again. “Well?”

“Not bad.”

She stared for a moment, then caught up her cloak and wrapped it around her, resuming her seat on the blanket. “And not at all necessary, either.”

Hades ignored that statement. “But listen well, my girl, and know that I mean what I say: should things grow beyond our control with the creature, I want you to get yourself back to the palace, collect the servants, and seek shelter.”

“While you do what?”

“While I lure the serpent above ground and up to Olympus, so that the others may provide their assistance in ridding the world of this menace, once and for all.”

Persephone wanted to argue the point but acknowledged that it bore merit. “All right, then. But beware, Hades—if you try to trick me into staying behind while you go forth alone into battle tomorrow morning, I shall be very put out, indeed.”

Hades sighed as he brought the flask up to his lips. “Duly noted.”

XIX.

Zeus’ Palace, Mount Olympus

“I WANT MY
daughter.”

Athena smiled as she observed the tense exchange unfolding between her aunt and her father. Zeus sat in his golden throne, hiding his mouth behind an open hand. And bronze-haired Demeter stood before him, weary from searching for Persephone for nine long days, but seemingly prepared to take her King to task.

“Madam,” Zeus said genially, removing the hand from his face to rest it on an arm of his throne. “I have not taken her.”

“No, but you allowed Hades to claim our daughter as his concubine,” Demeter said.

Zeus scowled at Hecate, who hung behind the Grain Goddess. He waved a hand to dismiss the bright-haired goddess and she bobbed her head, perhaps grateful that it was still attached to her neck. After a quick squeeze to Demeter’s shoulder, the Witch took her leave.

“Not so lowly a position as concubine,” Zeus denied, “but as wife.”

Oh, that was a mistake,
thought the Warrior Goddess.

“Then you knew! You admit your complicity!” Demeter exclaimed.

As if he realized he’d erred, the Cloud Gatherer frowned. “Yes, Demeter, I admit it. And what does it matter whether I was Hades’ accomplice or nay? The fact is, Persephone is his wife now and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

From the way Demeter arched her brow, Athena believed her aunt capable of doing quite a bit about it.

Hermes entered the throne room, shouting, “Father, something must be done! Things cannot continue this way!” The Hearth Goddess, Hestia, followed, as did Artemis and Ares, the God of War.

“What is it now?” Zeus huffed.

“Sir, have you not heard them?” Hermes asked, his blue eyes wide with amazement.

“Of whom do you speak?”

“The mortals, Father,” Artemis explained. She noticed the leer Ares gave her when she spoke and inched closer to venerable Hestia before continuing, “They wail so piteously!”

“Aye!” The God of War agreed, giving the Huntress’ legs one final, yearning look before turning ice blue eyes to his father. “It is most irritating and interferes with my sword practice. See that it’s taken care of.”

Zeus shot Ares a quelling glare, then turned to Hestia. “What has happened?”

The elder, fiery-haired goddess went to stand by Demeter. “A great blight has fallen across the land, Brother. Nothing grows; the Earth does not put forth either fruit or grain. The mortals are hard pressed to feed themselves and their livestock. If something is not done soon…” she left the sentence hanging ominously in the ether.

“Father, the animals are dying and the mortals will soon follow,” Artemis summarized unnecessarily.

Hermes strode forward, removing his winged helmet to reveal blond curls. “Who will make us sacrifices?” he demanded. “And what will there be to offer if you do not intervene?”

“Aye, and whom shall I slay in battle if the poor bastards die off like that?” Ares asked practically, leaning against a marble column to better appreciate Artemis’ fit form.

Zeus ignored him and turned narrowed eyes to Demeter, who smiled with dark satisfaction. “You are the cause of this famine?”

“Not I. You and Hades,” Demeter said. There were assorted cries of surprise at the mention of Hades’ name. “And I shall not do a thing to aid either mortals or gods if Persephone is not returned to me immediately.”

“Hades!” Hermes said. “But…what has Hades to do with anything?”

“What goes on here? Why do the mortals raise such a clamor?”

Zeus closed his eyes against the strident tones of his wife’s voice. He waited for Hera to take her rightful place at his side before he explained the situation. Though he omitted the fact that he’d sanctioned Hades’ daring exploit, Olympian Zeus’ part in the drama was understood by all. Their faces registered varying degrees of shock, but the one god who appeared truly flabbergasted by the news was Hermes.

Regal Hera eyed Demeter with thinly veiled dislike. Athena knew Hera was still angry with Demeter for attracting Zeus’ amorous attentions, but wondered whose side Hera would take in the matter. After all, her maternal instincts were the stuff of legend. Athena’s curiosity was soon satisfied as Hera inquired sharply of Zeus, “Is there not some way Persephone might be recovered?”

“There is!” the Messenger God asserted. When Zeus’ eyes turned with seething displeasure upon Hermes, the younger god gulped audibly. He fixed his gaze on Demeter’s more welcoming features instead. “If Persephone has not taken any morsel into her mouth, nor had any drink while in Erebus, she is free to leave.”

“Then someone must fetch her at once!” Artemis cried.

Athena decided it was time to get involved. “I could go, if you wish it, Father,” she said, walking over to stand by Artemis and Hermes.

“Nay, let me be the one!” Ares said, his hard lips curling evilly. “And if Hades argues, I shall run him through with my enchanted sword. Though if he can’t even keep a mortal from escaping his realm, I can’t see him putting up much of a fight against
me
. Still, it should make for some good sport, god against god. Could be diverting indeed, and I’m rather suffering from lack of exercise. Oh, yes, let me go for Persephone!”

The Cloud Gatherer strained in his seat testily. All eyes were upon him, awaiting his judgment. “What if,” Zeus began experimentally, “Persephone herself does not wish to leave?”

Hera clicked her tongue in disgust. “There is no possible way Persephone could wish to remain in the cold, dark world of the Dead.”

“Hades is no fit husband for Persephone!” Hermes exploded.

Artemis crossed her arms over her breasts, possibly to shield them from Ares’ view. “Persephone is too young to be wed at all!”

“Persephone belongs with me!” Demeter declared.

Ares scoffed, “What, Persephone
want
to be that craven’s wife? He has neither the might nor the right to attract such a beauty.”

“Hades should not have snatched her up the way he did,” Hestia said quietly. “He should have courted my niece properly, with all the respect due one of his own.”

Zeus rubbed his temples, then looked over at Athena. “Well, what say you?”

“It is possible that Persephone could now wish to make her home with Hades,” Athena said. She waited for the assorted hoots of outrage to die down before adding, “I say that Persephone should be returned to Olympus and then she may be questioned as to whether she wishes to remain with us or return to Hades.”

The King of the Gods raised his hand to squelch the others’ cries. “As always, Athena has gifted us with her remarkable wisdom. Hermes, go fetch Persephone, let her be reunited with Demeter. If she asks to stay in the Heavens, and if Hades offers any opposition, then we shall hold a council of the gods to determine what is to be done.” As he lowered his hand he shot a level look around the room, as if daring any one of them to find fault with his proclamation. But no one uttered a word against him.

“I will go at once, Father!” Hermes said, racing from the chamber.

Athena saw that Demeter looked shaken and went to lay a comforting hand upon her arm. “Fear not, dear Aunt. Persephone’s will shall be accomplished in this matter.”

Demeter gave her niece a shaky smile and nodded. “I’m sure you’re right, dear. You always are, only…”

“What is it, Aunt?”

The elder goddess forced a laugh. “Well…I only wonder if my daughter’s will still coincides with mine.”

XX.

Hades’ Palace, The Underworld

HADES AWOKE WITH
a strangled gasp the following morning. Tumultuous dreams had plagued his sleep—he’d found himself in the role of Orpheus, leading Persephone out of the Underworld. He heard some disturbance behind him and, certain she’d fallen, turned to help her. Only, the moment he laid eyes on her, she began to fade away. The god reached out to grasp her and his hands passed through her dissolving figure. He saw her lips form his name, but her voice was gone. Horrified, he leapt into the dark chasm they’d just left in order to retrieve her—

—Then he and Persephone fought monstrous Typhon and nearly had the creature under their power. Hades’ sword missed its mark and Typhon knocked him down and away. The thing then turned to Persephone, the maw of its human head widening over her and swooping down to consume her—