A Touch of Chaos (17 page)

When the day was done, Persephone returned to the Underworld. There was an element of excitement that buzzed beneath her skin. She was happy to be home and excited to see Hades, though he would not return until late in the evening, so she changed and went to Asphodel to have dinner with the souls. When she appeared at the center of their village, she faced Tartarus.

It was the first time she'd felt dread all day, and it was so acute, it stopped her in her tracks. As she faced the far-off horizon, she found that it was…warped. It was the only way to describe it—the color of the sky and the mountains seemed twisted and out of shape, like the edges of a dream.

“Persephone!”

She turned to see Yuri, who waved. She smiled at the soul but looked back toward the horizon, only this time, the mountains had regained their jagged shape, and the horizon cut along its edge like sharp steel.

Strange
, she thought.

“What are you staring at?” Yuri asked, coming to stand beside Persephone.

“I thought…I saw something, but I must have been mistaken,” she said, though her stomach twisted uneasily.

“The souls are waiting for you,” Yuri said and took her hand, pulling her to the field beyond their village where blankets were spread across the lawn. A set of tables had been placed end to end and were laden with food and drink from different times and cultures.

They ate as if they were celebrating, which was the usual way of the souls in Asphodel. Persephone sat with them and talked and laughed, and when they brought out their instruments and began to strum, they danced.

She only stopped when she went to spin and came face-to-face with Hades—well, his chest, really. She tilted her head back to meet his dark gaze.

“Hi,” she whispered breathlessly, overwhelmed as a sense of comfort washed over her.

“Hi,” he said, grinning. He touched her chin with the tip of his finger and kissed her. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yes,” she said when he pulled away. “And you?”

He hummed, a sound she could feel vibrating his chest before he answered. “It's better now.”

It was a Hades answer, meaning it was not an answer at all. Still, she smiled.

“I interrupted your dance,” he said.

“It's all right,” she said. “So long as you dance with me.”

He held her close, and she rested her head on his chest. They stayed like that until she grew sleepy in his arms.

“Are you ready for bed?” he asked. His voice was warm but sent a shiver down her spine.

She pulled away. “I think my mind is too busy for sleep.”

“Is it?” he asked, raising a brow. He leaned closer, and she took a shuddering breath as his lips brushed her ear. “I can take your mind off things.”

She turned her head, and their lips touched.

“Bold of you, God of the Dead, to assume I
want
to take my mind off things.”

His lips quirked.

“Forgive me, Lady of my Fate,” he said, his fingers threading through her hair. “Please advise how I might be of service.”

She smiled and started to lean in when she caught movement from the corner of her eye. She turned her head and saw a cat sitting a few feet away. She was fluffy and black, and her eyes were green and bright, almost unnatural in their luminosity.

“No,” she said as a sudden and deep cold overtook her body.

“What's wrong?” Hades asked.

She turned back to him, meeting his dark gaze. Concern etched his handsome face. Her heart ached when she looked at him.

Don't leave me
, she wanted to beg.

“Kiss me,” she said instead.

His brows lowered, but she pushed forward and slammed her lips against his, wrapping her arms around his neck. She needed him to anchor her here so she would never be lost again, but while he kissed her back, he seemed to sense something was wrong. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled away.

“Persephone,” he said, but she wasn't looking at him. She was looking at the cat who was still sitting quietly in the grass, staring.

She turned to face it fully, angry.

“No!” she said, her eyes welling with tears.

The cat continued to stare.

“I'm not leaving,” she said and pointed to the ground. “This is how everything was supposed to be!”

“Persephone,” Hades said again. He reached for her, but she slipped from his grasp. The shock of his absence made her chest feel like it was split in two, but she couldn't let him touch her again, or she would really stay.

His eyes were wide, and she thought that in this moment, she'd have rather died than watch his heart break with each step she put between them.

“Tell me what's wrong,” he begged.

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

“I can't,” she said, her voice breaking. “I just…
have
to go.”

She held his gaze a moment longer, his eyes so deep and ancient. They were Hades's eyes to be sure, but they were not the eyes of the Hades she loved, and she knew that in her soul.

She turned toward the cat.

Galanthis
, she thought, remembering her name as she took one determined step after another toward her. The feline rose onto her feet and turned to lead her away, and as a cold darkness descended around her, Persephone could still feel the burning eyes of Hades behind her.

She hoped she hadn't made a mistake.

Persephone opened her eyes to find Galanthis sitting on her chest, staring down at her.

When the cat saw she was awake, she leapt to the ground.

Persephone lay there for a moment, feeling as though she'd surfaced from some kind of nightmare, except she could still remember everything. The agony had been waking to discover she was still trapped in the labyrinth and nowhere close to Hades or the life it had shown her.

Her face felt sticky with tears, and there was a bitter taste at the back of her throat. When she sat up, her head spun, and she closed her eyes against the nausea roiling in her stomach, remnants of poison from the thorns.

When it had passed, she rose to her feet, picking up her blade, which she found on the ground beside her. Scanning her surroundings, she discovered Ariadne lying on her side. She was awake, and Galanthis sat nearby.
Somehow, the feline—or whatever it was—had pulled them from the labyrinth's snare.

Persephone crossed to Ariadne.

“We have to go,” she said and took her hands, helping her up.

Ariadne did not argue, and in what muted light they had, Persephone could tell she had also been crying. Her face glistened, wet from her tears. While she wondered what Ariadne had seen, she did not ask. It was going to be hard enough to get through the labyrinth without thinking about what they'd experienced in the time they'd been out—harder still not to go back and find that place again.

If anything would take them down within these dark corridors, it would be that—the claws of a perfect world calling them home.

Persephone looked down one dark passage and then the other, uncertain of which direction they had come or which direction they should go.

She looked at Galanthis, who was licking her paw. It was as if she suddenly remembered she was a cat and not some other creature that could take down a boar and lead them from other realities.

Persephone picked up the spool of thread. “Which way to my husband?” she asked.

Galanthis finished cleaning her paw before she met Persephone's gaze. Soundless, she rose to all fours and started down the corridor. Persephone exchanged a look with Ariadne before they followed along, quiet. Though Persephone had no ability to read minds, she had a feeling they were both dwelling on the same thing—their deepest desires.

She wondered if she could retrace her steps and stumble back into that world.

Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain on her arm. She hissed and looked to her right. Ariadne had pinched her.

“I know what you are thinking,” she said. “But you cannot go back.”

Persephone ground her teeth. She was frustrated, both by the fact that Ariadne had known exactly what she wanted and because she felt weak.

“The danger wasn't the dream,” said Ariadne. “It's the aftermath.”

Persephone knew what she meant. It was the yearning. It would have them both wandering the labyrinth forever in search of their greatest desire, never to find it again.

They continued on, following Galanthis down dark passage after dark passage, each turn making Persephone dizzy and disoriented.

“Tell me a truth,” Ariadne said, her voice cutting through the dark like a whip.

“What do you want to know?” Persephone asked. She couldn't really think; her mind was brimming with memories from her perfect world.

“Anything,” said Ariadne. “What was your first memory?”

The question caught Persephone by surprise, and she had to think for a moment before answering. “My first memory is of me crying,” she said. “I'd reached for a rose because I thought it was beautiful, not aware that the stem was full of thorns.”

She'd always remembered the feel of it puncturing her skin, a sharp sting she'd felt over her whole body.

“My mother was more concerned about the rose and let me cry while she mended the petals I had shaken free.”

When she had expressed her pain, Demeter had offered no comfort.

“
Let that remind you of the consequences of touching my flowers
,” she'd said.

Persephone had never considered it before, but perhaps that experience was why she would later kill flowers with her touch.

Ariadne met Persephone's gaze, and there was a flash of regret in her eyes at having asked, but Persephone got the point. It took her mind off the false memories of the dream and the endlessness of the labyrinth.

“What is your favorite memory?” Persephone asked.

Ariadne took a moment to respond, and Persephone wondered how many she had to choose from. It sounded like a strange thing to compare, but Persephone could only think of a few favorite memories, and most of them had been made with Lexa or Hades.

“Probably the times I spent with my sister,” said Ariadne.

“All of them?” Persephone asked when she gave no other details.

“Yes,” Ariadne said, pausing a moment. “We were alone a lot growing up, and I took responsibility for her. I made sure she was dressed and ready for school. I made her lunch and her dinner. I made sure she had fun so she didn't realize what I realized, which was that our parents were too busy for us.”

Suddenly, Ariadne's desperation to rescue her sister made sense.

“You can't keep taking responsibility for her, Ariadne. She makes her own decisions.”

Her mouth hardened. Persephone imagined it wasn't the first time she'd heard that.

“I would have taken care of her forever,” said Ariadne. “She didn't have to choose him.”

“Maybe that's why,” Persephone said. “Because she wanted you to be free.”

Ariadne paled. Those words seemed to hit her differently than the others. After that, they were both quiet until Persephone stopped.

“Do you smell that?” she asked.

Ariadne paused and took a deep breath. “Oh gods,” she whispered and exchanged a look with Persephone, confirming what she suspected—something nearby was dead and decomposing.

A terrible fear seized her heart, and for a brief moment, she let herself wonder if it was Hades.

It can't be
, she told herself, even though she knew it was a possibility given that this was Theseus's domain and he could kill the gods.

They continued forward, and the smell grew worse. It was sickly sweet and pungent. It made Persephone's eyes water and her nose burn. She wanted to gag as saliva flooded the back of her throat. She wasn't sure she was going to make it without retching.

Then Ariadne began to heave, and Persephone couldn't take it any longer.

She bent over and threw up.

“This is fucking terrible,” she said, placing the back of her hand to her mouth.

Now her throat was on fire, and her nose was
dripping with the same contents she'd spewed. In some ways, she did not mind because it deadened the stench of decay.

When Ariadne was finished vomiting, she hiked her shirt over her nose, and Persephone did the same. It did not help much, but it wasn't like they had a choice. Galanthis was still leading them forward, farther into the labyrinth and closer to death.

Finally, they rounded a corner, and through blurry eyes, Persephone saw the source of the smell. A large mound of flesh lay a few feet ahead.

“What the fuck is that?” Ariadne asked.

Galanthis did not seem as worried, trotting forward without a care in the world.

They followed carefully behind, approaching the corpse.

“What is it?” Ariadne asked.

Whatever it was, it was massive and
skinless
.

“I don't know,” Persephone said, but as she neared its head, she thought she could guess. “I think…it was a lion,” she said.

“Oh gods,” Ariadne said right before she threw up again.

Persephone waited until she was finished to speak.

“What do you think happened to it?”

“This is the work of a person,” said Ariadne.

“
Hades
?
” Persephone asked.

“Maybe,” said Ariadne.

Hope rose in her heart. Maybe they were close to finding him.

“It looks like he…” Ariadne's voice trailed away, and Persephone moved to her side to see she was looking at
the lion's paws, one of which had been stripped of its middle claw.

Persephone looked at Ariadne.

“Do you think…we need to do the same?”

Before she could respond, Galanthis answered with a meow.

“You can't be serious,” Ariadne said.

Persephone knelt, examining the claws.

They did not look like bone so much as steel. She reached out and touched the tip of one, surprised when it cut her so easily.

“Ouch,” she hissed and drew her finger away quickly. “They're sharp…like…
knives
.”

Yet she thought that these were even sharper.

“Here,” said Ariadne. She pulled off her leather gloves. “Use these as a barrier.”

Persephone took them and layered the gloves on one hand, hoping it would be enough to keep the claw from slicing through to her hand. She chose the middle one, and as she wrapped her gloved fingers around the sharp nail, she wondered why Hades had done this but also knew that he wouldn't unless he had a good reason.

Still, there was a wrongness to it that made Persephone's stomach turn. She grit her teeth hard as she felt around the top of the claw where it connected to bone and then used her knife to slice between them with her blade. When the claw was free, she took off the gloves and slipped the claw into the finger, storing it in the pocket of her jacket.

“Well, that was horrible,” she said as she stood, retrieving her spool of thread. “Let's get out of here.”

They left the lion behind and wove through the endless darkness.

“How far are we from the center?” Persephone asked.

“I…don't know,” said Ariadne. “I've lost track of…everything.”

Persephone had too.

“What do we do if he isn't there?” she asked, though she hated to even entertain the idea.

“Don't think that way,” said Ariadne. “He'll be there, if anything because Theseus will take joy in watching you reunite and then tearing you apart.”

As hard as it was to hear, Persephone appreciated Ariadne's honesty.

“What do you think will be waiting for us when we get there?”

“I have no idea,” Ariadne said. “But it will be terrible.”

Persephone took a breath, but she would face whatever waited for them so long as Hades was there. She would fight for him. She would reunite with him, and they would go home tonight…or tomorrow…or whenever the fuck they left this place.

Galanthis meowed, and Persephone looked to see the cat as she was swallowed by darkness.

It was different from the dark around them, deeper and colder, and there was a wrongness to it she couldn't describe.

“Ariadne,” Persephone whispered. “Do you think…”

“We've made it,” Ariadne said.

An involuntary shiver racked Persephone's body as they lingered at the edge of the darkness. She'd imagined this unfolding much differently in her head.

Mostly, she'd expected there to be light.

But if they were at the center of the labyrinth, then that meant Hades was near.

Persephone took a step forward and then another, but the dark remained. How was she supposed to find him here?

“Persephone!” Ariadne whispered her name in a hushed tone just as Galanthis gave a low growl and hissed.

Persephone froze as two red eyes flashed in the darkness.

“Ari,” Persephone said. “What is that?”

Just as she said the words, the lights switched on. Persephone flinched at the sudden brightness, dropping her spool of thread. As her vision adjusted, a strange growl drew her attention. When she looked up, she found the source of the red eyes—an abnormally large, pure white bull with enormous horns. It appeared to be covered in bronzed armor, and it was already pawing at the ground and snorting. Thick black smoke blew from its nostrils as if somehow, it had swallowed fire.

Persephone had seen something similar from the chimera she'd fought in the Underworld. Dread pooled in her stomach.

She was certain that thing could breathe fire.

The bull's eyes were fixed on Galanthis, who stood before it, the hair down her back raised.

“Whatever you do, don't give him your back,” said Ariadne.

“How are we supposed to run away then?” Persephone demanded.

“I don't know,” Ariadne snapped. “Isn't your cat a fucking monster?”

“She isn't my cat!” Persephone said.

She looked behind her, wondering if they should return to the labyrinth, except that Hades was in front of them, not behind them.

The bull tossed its head and then lowered it, glaring at them with its bright red eyes. Then it charged, and Persephone watched as Galanthis transformed. She grew larger and sprouted black wings and horns, and then she launched herself at the bull.