That Fatal Kiss (17 page)

“And you expect to take his full measure within the next few days?” Hecate asked.

“I have to discern as much as I am able,” Persephone said. She looked up at the other goddess. “Do you think I am a fool to even consider remaining with my captor?”

“I know my cousin Artemis would say so, but then, she is a rather narrow-minded thing, viewing matters, and even individuals, as being either all good or all bad. But only remember Athena’s example. To many a goddess’ amazement, she forgave Hephaestus for his fumbling attempt to rape her.”

“I didn’t want to forgive him myself, only I believed that Athena’s wisdom far outweighed my own.”

“Not so far, Persephone. The truth is, the poor little thing is wed to an uncommon whore who emasculates him at every opportunity. Because Athena had always shown him kindness, he fancied himself a bit in love with her. Unfortunately, his own wits took leave of him the day he went to violate her. It was terrible of Hephaestus, no one can deny it, and no matter what his lot is with Aphrodite, no one can excuse it either. But his remorse was genuine and Pallas did them both a favor by forgiving him. He has never tried such a thing again, either with Athena or any other goddess. Hephaestus is clumsy and gruff, but within him is a good and gentle heart. No, Persephone, you are no fool.” Hecate offered Persephone a kindly smile. “You have gotten past your upset and allowed yourself to catch a glimpse of the good within Hades. But I agree with you that it is not enough to commit yourself forever. You do need time to make an educated decision.”

Persephone returned the smile in thanks but teased, “Though I do question my good sense, having mistaken you for a friend when you only seek to add my torment to your amusements.”

“Foolish of you, really,” Hecate agreed, preparing to depart. “Then I shall say nothing to Demeter of your whereabouts?”

“No, not yet,” Persephone said. “But I will be happy to avail myself of your services as divine messenger when the time comes, if you would be so good as to maintain the offer.”

“I would,” said the Witch. She walked over to the door, then turned back. “By the Fates, I almost forgot to tell you!”

“Almost forgot to tell me what?”

“Guess who has joined Demeter in her search for you?” Hecate sang, as if delighted with the tidbit she was about to impart.

“Who?” Persephone asked, aware of a gnawing sensation in her stomach.

Hecate’s lips spread into a wicked smile as she answered, “Hermes.”

“Oh?” Persephone’s eyes widened a moment after full realization set in. “Oh! Oh, no!”

“Oh, yes!” Hecate contradicted gleefully. “It appears he is just as distraught over your disappearance as your mother. One can only wonder why.”

Persephone frowned at her. “I can only wonder how you were able to keep from blurting that out the moment you saw me!” She snatched up a small pillow, crushing it as she thought aloud, “But I thought it was just Mother who harbored those ideas, I never dreamed he had any real interest in me.”

“Well, you were wrong,” Hecate said. “Now, do tell, does this alter things for you at all?

“It alters things not one whit except to give me one more headache.”

“Then you are unmoved by Hermes’ devotion?”

“Sublimely! Had I desired anything from that quarter, I would be
his
wife instead of Hades’ right now.”

“How very smug of you.”

“Witch, be gone.
Now
.”

“Very well,” Hecate said. She turned once more to quit the room, but glanced back, saying, “I shall leave you to your fevered scheming in peace.”

“My fevered scheming?” Persephone echoed warily.

“Yes,” Hecate threw over her shoulder, as she stepped out of the chamber. “You’re scheming as to how you might entice your husband back into his bed!” The silken pillow met the sealed door before harmlessly falling to the floor.

XIV.

PERSEPHONE FOUND HADES
in the courtyard the following morning. He peered inside a large basket and, when he heard the soft tread of her feet, looked up. “Good morning. You sought to avoid my hound’s devoted ministrations, I see.”

Persephone smiled broadly as she reached his side. “Why, yes. One bath a day is about all I can safely endure,” she said, looking up at him. A slight, damp breeze blew a tendril of her honey-colored hair loose and her heart quickened its pace as she met Hades’ gaze. His hand reached up to push the tendril back in place and a finger grazed lightly against her cheek.

“You slept well?” he asked.

“I did,” Persephone said, then blushed at the huskiness of her voice. “And you?”

“No.” His eyebrow arched slowly.

Persephone took his meaning and withdrew her gaze. Remembering Hecate’s parting words from the day before, she colored again, even as she asked, “Where have you been sleeping, Hades?”

“In one of the bedchambers on the other side of the palace, near the servants’ quarters,” he said. Then, after a thoughtful pause, “Though I was hoping I could soon return to my own.”

“It is good to be hopeful.” She moved onto less piquant ground by asking, “What have you in the basket?”

Hades eyes took on an ironic cast as he answered, “Ione prepared some refreshments for today’s jaunt. I warned her that her labor was in vain but she insisted upon providing us with sustenance, nonetheless.”

Persephone’s stomach inconveniently chose that moment to complain and she frowned at it. She hoped Hades wouldn’t be irritated with her again and glanced up at him to ascertain his temper. He appeared to be as concerned as he was annoyed, but he said nothing. He simply took her hand, drew it through the crook of his arm, and led her back in through the palace and out to the front gate.

His chariot awaited them, black steeds pawing at the ground impatiently. Hades assisted Persephone in boarding it before securing the basket. He took his place before his wife and gathered the reins. “You may either grip the chariot or anchor yourself to me, the choice is yours.” Her arms encircled his waist before he finished speaking. She saw his grin in profile as he spurred the horses into motion, urging them to fly. They obeyed ecstatically, soaring up into the misty sky. He turned the horses around in a wide arc and they soon sailed over the palace and on toward Elysium.

Persephone remembered the terror she felt the first time she rode in Hades’ chariot. Now she felt only exhilarated, both by the speed with which they flew, and by the mastery Hades displayed in his command of the horses. She reveled in the rush of wind blowing through her hair, and the thundering of Hades’ heart, which she felt with her face pressed against his back.

The darkness gave way to a light very like the rays cast down by Helius in the early morning above ground as they neared Elysium. There even appeared to be some sort of sun illuminating the place, and Persephone could see a multitude of shades milling about. Some engaged in music making, playing upon pipes and lyres, while others danced to the merry sounds. Others sang to the music being played, in sweet harmonies that enchanted the goddess. She saw even more shades, happily engaged in wrestling matches, cheered on by their companions.

Hades brought the chariot down on an isolated patch of emerald grass. Persephone released him reluctantly, descended from the vehicle, and looked around. “It is so like the plains of Nysa!” she said, inhaling deeply to take in the sweet air. “This is beautiful!”

“Aye, it is…much like the world above, if memory serves.”

It was exactly like it, as verdant and inviting as the meadows of Mount Etna. “What a wonder,” Persephone thought aloud, “that such beauty can be found in this dark realm.”

“I’m pleased to hear you say so,” Hades noted with a small smile.

They strolled along a sandy path for a pace, Hades bearing the basket in one hand and a blanket over his shoulder. The domesticated picture he presented amused Persephone at first but then she took to enjoying the calm confidence of his gait, the regal way he held his head as he surveyed the blessed isles. Something stirred within her, warm and heady, pleasantly filling her entire being. With a bit of a shock, Persephone realized it was pride—she felt proud of this stately lord, of his bearing, his mien, of the ways in which she knew him to rule in his kingdom. And, strangely, she found herself taking some pride in having been chosen by him, even as she protested his method of securing her.
How peculiar
, she thought,
to hold such contradictory feelings in one’s heart for another
.
And how difficult they are to untangle…

Hades turned to her and she felt a tremor in her midriff as the soft light bathed his dark brown curls, perfectly outlining the rugged planes of his handsome face. “I hope,” he said, “your quiet contemplation is due to enjoyment of our surroundings, rather than displeasure.”

His deep voice triggered a tingle of delight which coursed down Persephone’s neck and arms. “Oh, I do enjoy Elysium, immensely.” And then, hardly aware of what she was saying, she added, “I find myself happy to be here. With you.”

Hades’ stride slowed to a stop and Persephone thought he meant to embrace her. Eager for his touch and yet feeling suddenly shy, she preempted him with, “Look, Aidoneus—that marvelous white poplar invites us to take its shelter. Shall we?”

Hades looked where she pointed and Persephone was surprised to see his features grow solemn. “No. Not under that one. Come.” He set off on the footpath briskly, leaving Persephone bemused and hard-pressed to catch up with him.

Puzzlement turned to concern as Hades led the way along the path without attempting further discourse. They walked for quite some time and, just as Persephone began to fear she’d somehow displeased him, Hades gestured to an aged, leafy tree and led her to it. She followed, feeling anxious for his thoughts, and gladly took the basket from him while he shook out the blanket and laid it out at the base of the tree. Unsure of what she should do, Persephone watched as he sat and took his ease, lying back against the trunk of the tree. He held his hand out to her and she gave him the basket. A smile warmed his somber features and he said, as he set the basket down beside him, “I thank you, Lady of the Lovely Ankles, but what my hand reached out for was, in fact, your own.”

Persephone flushed with equal parts pleasure and embarrassment, then cast her eyes down at her sandaled feet. “Are they so very lovely?”

She raised her eyes and found him regarding her feet as well. Then his gaze traveled upward, tracing a searing path along Persephone’s skin as it ran up her calves, her thighs, her hips. The heat in his look crackled as it rested a moment upon her breasts, then finally met her eyes, stunning her with the hunger it revealed. Then his expression abruptly changed and grew softer. “Yes,” he finally said. “Very.” Once again master of himself, Hades added, “Sit, take your rest.”

A contrary blend of emotions again took hold of Persephone. His completely masculine appraisal flustered her, but his commanding tone riled her as well. Seeing that she stiffened, the god amended, “If you please.”

Persephone remained on her feet a moment longer, bewildered by a return of her embarrassment, for it seemed churlish to bristle at such a naturally turned phrase, one not meant to control, but invite. Whatever was the matter with her, why did she war with herself so? What had become of the carefree Persephone, who would have simply enjoyed the flattering attentions of a desirable male without any of this hateful gracelessness which now overwhelmed her?

Seeing that Hades looked at her expectantly, the goddess gave herself a mental shake and sat down on the blanket. He shifted so she could also lean against the tree, which, as it happened, would bring her even closer to him. Persephone hesitated, then inched over to comply with his implicit request.

They sat quietly, watching the happy shades of the blessed as they played, off in the distance. But Persephone, very aware of Hades and discomfited by the continued turbulence of her thoughts, sought to fill the silence.

“I called it a dark realm,” she said, her voice seeming unnaturally loud to her own ears, “but Elysium, at least, has someone riding a sunny chariot for its inhabitants.”

“That would be Helius.”

“Surely not. Helius rides his chariot above ground, not below.”

“He did ride above ground, yes, but grew weary of the brightness. Apparently,” Hades favored Persephone with a smile, “it bothered his eyes.”

The dryness of his tone made her chuckle. “Then if Helius is casting light here below, who continues his work above?”

“Your brother, Apollo.”

“Artemis’ twin?”

“The very same. The way Hermes tells it, Zeus tired of hearing Apollo lament his lost loves and thought that giving him an occupation would ease his son’s torment,” Hades explained. “Little did Zeus suspect that the daily voyage across Grandmother Gaia would serve to titillate Apollo’s libido with visions of countless other beauties.”

“Hmm…” The innocuous gossip took the edge off Persephone’s uncharacteristic attack of nerves and she relaxed, leaning back comfortably against the tree. “And Artemis is such a jealous sort. I’m surprised she did not beg for some similar office.”