Asphodel

Asphodel

By

Lauren Hammond

Asphodel Copyright© Lauren Hammond 2011.

This book is a work of fiction. All rights reserved. No

part of this book shall be used or reproduced in any manner
without written permission except for quotations embedded
in articles and reviews.

For information contact [e-mail]

Portions of this novel are fictitious and drawn

completely from the author's imagination. Those portions
including, dialogue, incidents, and characters are not to be
construed as real.

Cover design by: Jeremy West

ISBN:9780983868163

This book is dedicated to all the amazing book

bloggers in the world who take the time to promote and
spread the word about their favorite books and support
authors they love. Many, many thanks to all of you.

Prologue

Mount Olympus, Ancient Greece

Hades barreled into Zeus, knocking him to the ground.

The clash of their bodies sent a rippling clap of thunder
through the sky. Zeus rose to his feet and with one flick of
his finger, sent Hades flying through the air. Hades hit the
ground with a thud. “You promised,” he growled, picking
himself up. “You aren’t about to go back on your word, are
you?”

“I know you want a queen, but maybe now isn’t the right

time,” said Zeus.

“We had a deal,” Hades said, taking a few steps

closer.

“I know we did and I am not going back on it.”

Hades knew exactly where this was going. Either Zeus

had grown attached to this child or he had not yet informed

the mother of his arrangement with Hades. “So, what are
you suggesting?”

“I want you to wait for my next born.”

Hades shook his head. “I’ve waited seventeen years

already. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be alone all
the time?”

“I know you have been patient and your patience will

not go unrewarded.”

This was bold of Zeus, but Hades could not be

bargained with. “Perhaps you need more time to think it
over.”

“My decision has been made, Hades. There is nothing

to think about.”

Hades was about to explode when Demeter walked

into the Hall of the Gods.

“Come Persephone,” she said, extending her hand

behind her. Persephone grabbed Demeter’s hand and
walked alongside her mother.

Hades lingered in the back of the room next a marble

column and watched the young maiden. She was delicate
and beautiful, with long willowy limbs, reddish-brown hair,

and stunning jade green eyes.

He observed her for a while, smitten. Then assumed

that she must be the child Zeus promised to him. He’d only
been watching her for minutes and already this woman had
his mind in a blunder. Closing his eyes, he listened
attentively to the sound of her sweet voice and smiled to
himself when her infectious laugh echoed through the hall.

Upon his descent to the underworld Hades came up

with a plan. If Zeus wasn’t going to give him the girl, he was
simply going to take her. And he’d make Zeus aware
because in reality there was nothing he could do to stop
him.

Hades

Present Day

Sirens howled in the distance followed by honking car

horns and tires peeling out. Hades propped himself up
against a building, invisible to the human eye, and watched
with a blank expression as an ambulance hurled around the
street corner, it’s white and red lights turning in a circular
motion.

A man lied in the middle of the street. His limbs were

twisted and broken and blood oozed from every opening on
the man’s face. His chest rose up lightly and even though
he was feet away, Hades heard the man’s raspy, wheezing
breaths. The Commander of the Dead felt the man’s life
slipping away. With every weak breath that escaped the
man’s lungs, he crept closer and closer to Hades’ grasp.

The man was hit by a bus. It was tragic, really. Hades

had seen it happen, yet he did nothing to prevent it. That
was the way the world worked. Mortals were born and died
every day. It was not his place to interfere, even though he

could if he really wanted to.

Police blocked off the scene of the accident with bright

orange cones and yellow caution tape and a crowd of
onlookers had formed to watch as the paramedics placed
the unknown man on a gurney. Women cried out and a few
of them were being comforted by their male partners.
Hades closed his eyes and began to feel bits and pieces of
the man’s life flash before his eyes. This occurred every
time a soul was about to cross into his realm. This gave the
God of the Dead the ability to administer proper judgment
and proper placement once the souls of the departed
reached him.

Using his invisibility cloak, Hades faded into the chaos

of the crowd and hovered over the dying man. He reached
out, prepared to latch onto the man’s wrist and pull him
under when he’d heard a wild shriek in the crowd. “Jake!
Jake!”

Hades straightened up and looked over his shoulder

as a woman sprinted through the crowd of onlookers,
pushing and shoving the ones in her way. Her strands of
chestnut hair slapped against her face, her ivory cheeks
were flushed and her eyes were rimmed in red. She howled
out another painful shriek. “Jake! No! No!”

Hades stepped back as the woman reached the

gurney and hurled her body over the dying man’s. Agony

flashed in the woman’s hazel eyes as she ran her trembling
fingers over the man’s mangled face. She sobbed, her
voice strangled as the paramedics and police officers tried
to pull her off the man. “No! No!” She fought them off, her
arms flailing, her legs jetting out as she tried to kick the
cops and paramedics. “Don’t die on me, Jake! Don’t die
on me! I love…I love you!”

“Ma’am, we have to get him to a hospital!” a

paramedic cried. “He needs medical attention!”

After a few more strenuous attempts the cops were

able to pry the woman off of the man, they escorted her to
the ambulance and helped her into the back. And she sat
there, sobbing into her palms while the paramedics loaded
the body. Once the gurney was secure, the woman laced
her fingers through the man’s, lifted his hand to her mouth
and kissed the man’s fingertips.

Hades waited until the paramedics closed the

ambulance door before appearing inside. He watched the
woman, a fierce loving look in her eyes as she brushed her
thumb against the man’s limp hand. Her emotion struck
Hades in a way he hadn’t been struck in centuries. He felt
for her. Normally when he witnessed death he remained
indifferent and just accepted what had occurred, but for
some reason he couldn’t understand why this situation
seemed different.

Maybe because he knew what it was like to love

someone and watch them slip through grasp eternally. He’d
been after his love for at least five thousand years. Chasing
her from state to state, city to city, and from continent to
continent. He’d suffered in pain every time he lost her. And
he’d lost her a lot.

Standing there in the ambulance, persuaded by his

own feelings Hades did something he rarely ever did. He
leaned over the dying man’s mouth, sucked in a deep
breath, and breathed life back into him. The man’s eyes
flew open and he coughed out, gasping for air. The
woman’s eyes bulged out and she cried tears of joy as she
kissed every bruise on the man’s face.

A soft smile crawled across Hades’ lips as he

vanished from the ambulance and returned to his realm. He
sat down rigidly still on his throne and gazed out into the
black abyss of nothingness known as the underworld. The
realm in which he was the tyrannical ruler of. He peered
over his should to his right, then to his left. The quiet
engulfed him until all he heard were his own thoughts.

At times he cursed Zeus for damning him to a realm of

nothingness, death, and despair, but then again there were
times where he’d also praised Zeus. Hades had never
been like the other God’s and Goddesses that previously
dwelled on Mount Olympus. The wicked and despicable
things he was capable of would haunt them to the core. He

was sure of it.

Through the centuries, the tasks of running his realm

had become tedious and repetitive to Hades. The task of
damning the souls that had crossed the river Styx into his
domain was becoming tiresome for the deceitful king. Of
course he still had Cerberus, his dog, man’s best friend.
Cerberus had proven to be extremely loyal. At times the
three headed beast’s howling and barking would annoy
Hades to the point, where he considered cutting off all three
of Cerberus’s heads. But that was only a mere thought.

The gentle yet fierce guardian hobbled into the throne

room, all three tongues hanging out. The dog whimpered
and let out a soothing yelp as Hades gently stroked the
dog’s middle head. “Good boy.”

The God of the Dead’s attention averted to the

grandfather clock in the corner of the room and Cerberus’s
spine stiffened as Hades rose up from his throne. “Stay,” he
commanded the three headed dog that Hades called his
only loyal companion over the last five thousand years.
Cerberus howled and lied down on the floor, lowering all
three of his heads in a gesture of obedience.

Hades lips turned up into a wry smile as he walked out

of his throne room. Perhaps his kindness today was a sign.
Perhaps he was close to getting her. The one and only
person he’d ever been enamored with. The Goddess he’d

been chasing for the last five thousand years.

****

It was fifteen minutes to midnight and Hades, God of

death and destruction, paced along the banks of the river
Styx with his hands balled into fists at his sides. Charon
was late with today’s shipment of souls and that left Hades
feeling uneasy. Hades didn’t like uncertainty. He ran a tight
schedule in the realm of the dead and when the impervious
schedule was interrupted, well, he knew Charon would be
wise to stay away from him for the rest of the day.

He stopped mid-pace, kicking grey sand and focused

on the fog, rising from the brownish, green murky waters of
the Styx. There was an internal clock in his brain, ticking
and as Hades closed his eyes he envisioned the hands of
the clock moving as the minutes dwindled by. Filled with
worry and impatience, Hades tapped his foot, folding his
arms and drummed his fingers against his elbow.
Anxiousness unfurled beneath his skin like a flesh-eating
parasite. “The one day that I need him to be on time and
he’s late,” Hades growled as he began pacing again.

Sand crunched as the rubber soles of his boots

smashed it down and the noise ricocheted off the walls of
the cavern—the opening—the crossing where the land of
the living met with the land of the dead. The slick brown
stone walls glistened with sludge, a slimy residue from the

Styx’s choppy waters. Hades’ eyes centered on that sludge
as he thought about all the punishment’s he’d have in store
for Charon if he took any longer. But, before he came up
with one, the soft plunking of wooden oars throbbed in his
ears. Then the plunking intensified turning into slapping.
Charon was close.

Hades stood on the edge of the dock as the old,

feeble ferryman parked his ship, full of the dearly departed
and descended down the rope ladder. Charon stood
before his master clutching the brim of his hat, his fingers
trembling. “I’m sorry master. So sorry.” Charon lowered his
head and few wisps of white hair stood up while the lighting
bounced off the bald parts.

“What was the hold-up?” Hades asked, gruffly.

Charon kept his head low, talking at his feet. “We had

an indecisive soul, sire.”

An indecisive soul was the soul of a mortal who was

stuck in the between, not quite in the land of the living, but
still not able to cross fully into the land of the unliving. Hades
scanned the row of occupants on the ferry, infuriated.
“Which one was it?” His tone was flat and cold.

Charon lifted his head and nodded at a teenage boy in

the back of the ship. “Him.”

Hades glared at the boy pre-adult boy, whose hazel

eyes glistened with tears. Seconds later, Hades
disappeared, reappearing in front of the boy. Fear crept up
the mortal’s spine and he stiffened, unable to move. Then
he started shaking. Hades examined him, hoping to scorch
him with his gaze. Rage bubbled inside of the mighty God
and Hades boomed, “Aren’t you a man?” The boy lowered
his head and Hades blanched as he sniffled. But the boy
did not answer.

“Answer me!” Hades screamed, shaking the entire

ferry. The other passengers turned, eyeing Hades, fearfully.

“I’m, I’m only fifffteen,” the boy whimpered, stuttering at

the same time.

Hades exhaled as the rage inside of him died down.

He relaxed his stance slouching over, slightly. Even though,
the young boy had taken too much of his time and Hades
contemplated sending him to the depths of Tartarus, he
knew couldn’t. Not because he wasn’t able to, but because
despite his cold demeanor and mischievous ways, He had
always been a fair and just God. And the boy didn’t deserve
to spend an eternity being tortured endlessly. “Stand up,”
He instructed the teen, calmly.

The boy rose from his seat, trying desperately to lock

his trembling knees in place. Hades placed his hand on the
boy’s shoulder and the young teen blanched, turning away.

“Do not fear me,” Hades said boldly. Slowly, the boy turned
toward Hades, peaking up at him from the corner of his
eye. Then the God of the Dead closed his eyes and recited
the same thing he’d recited for the last five-thousand years.
“The realm of the dead welcomes you. Go forth and find
your home in the Field of Asphodel so that you may live out
your eternity in peace.”

Every soul on the ferry vanished. They’d been

assigned to their forever. And then Hades vanished,
appearing in his throne room. Walls of black and matching
black marble tile floors engulfed him and he sat back on the
red, velvet cushioned throne. He looked up at a cast-iron
clock on the wall. Seven minutes to midnight. In seven
minutes, he’d have another opportunity to take her,
hopefully his last.

He recalled the first time saw her in the Hall of the

Gods, trailing behind Demeter. Her mahogany hair
glistened red in the sunlight. Her skin was a creamy peach
color. And her eyes were the most stunning shade of Jade-
green he’d ever seen.

Hades had been chasing Demeter and her daughter

for five-thousand years. He hadn’t been chasing them for
his own purposes, either. Well, his own purpose was a
small part of why he’d been chasing them. There were two
other main reasons why he’d been after Demeter and her
daughter for the last five thousand years; the first was he

wanted to teach Zeus a lesson for going back on their deal.
The second, because he felt something the first time he
saw her that was too powerful to deny.

In the past, Demeter was always able to out-smart him.

Demeter had always kept her daughter close—too close.
But with every passing century, Hades felt himself getting
closer and closer.

Hades had a feeling that during this seventeen year

span it would be different. He would finally get what he’d
always longed for, a queen. Or who he’d always longed for
Persephone.

Demeter

It was five minutes until midnight and Demeter knew

there was no way that she’d be able to sleep. Red burned
into her eyes from the digital clock on the nightstand. 11:56
another minute slipped away.

One day every seventeen years Demeter suffered

through a sleepless night. She couldn’t sleep before
midnight because she was too worried about what she
knew would happen to her daughter. And she couldn’t sleep
afterwards because she feared that when she woke up in
the morning, he might have visited her daughter in the night
and stole her from her bed.

Demeter had tried for thousands of years to out-run

Hades. She was smart, moving with her daughter like a
nomad from place to place—from century to century, but
Hades was smarter. He always found them. It didn’t matter
how discreet they were or what continent they were living
on. Hades found them every time.

Demeter had even tried using transformation magic to

shield her appearance and her child’s from death himself,
but not even some of her powers were of any use because
he was that much more powerful. One time, on an off year
Hades had visited Demeter while her child was at school.
She had been at the kitchen sink, washing dishes and she
didn’t even need to look up to know he was behind her. The
moment he entered the room a slight chill whipped through
the lavender curtains right above the kitchen sink. Demeter
tensed up, gripping onto the tan ceramic plate in her left
hand and let go of the dish sponge. “What do you want,
Hades?”

He crept closer to her, the sound of his footsteps

pounded into the hardwood floor. “I think you know what I
want, Demeter,” he stated calmly. “I think you’ve always
known what I want.”

Demeter spun around, pressing her back into the

crème counter-top, facing the commander of all things
unliving and sneered. “You won’t ever get what you want,
Hades. I will never let you have her.”

Hades laughed, his rich deep voice bordered along

the lines wickedness and insanity as it filled the confined
rectangular room. “Oh, I will get her, Demeter.” Hades
glided closer, snatching her wrist and squeezed it hard. So
hard, that Demeter’s knees buckled and slammed into the
hardwood floor. Hades wasn’t able to kill her, but he was

able to cause her agonizing pain.

At first, the pain felt like a mild bug bite, irritating, but

tolerable. Then as it spread through her body, the pain
became so excruciating, Demeter couldn’t breathe. She
panted, trying to be strong, but it was no use. As Hades
squeezed her wrist tighter, she felt like her limbs were
being ripped from her by a pack of hungry hyenas. “Stop!”
she cried. “Stop! Releasing her from his grasp, Hades
backed away as Demeter hunched over, curling up into the
fetal position. As the pain subsided a swirl of coldness
flourished through her and her breathing returned to normal.

She glared at Hades giving him a look full of hatred

and brutality. Hades smiled, amused. “I knew you’d see
things my way. Perhaps, Demeter, we can come to some
sort of arrangement.”

Demeter knew better than to bargain with the master

of deceit. She struggled to pick herself up and lost her
balance, slamming both of her palms into the floor. She
pushed herself up again, with more force and knelt down.
Then she gripped the counter and hoisted herself up,
clutching the edge of the counter tightly as she steadied
herself.

“So,” said Hades as her examined his hands. “Do we

have a deal then?”

She rolled her shoulders, cracked her neck, and spun

around full of so much anger that she trembled. “Never,”
Demeter growled, half-rasping half-whispering.

Hades charged toward her. “Oh, apparently I haven’t

persuaded you to see things my way enough.”

He was centimeters away, but Demeter was ready for

him. She snapped her arms back and clasped her hands
together as a gust of wind unfurled from her fingertips. A
gust of wind so forceful that it knocked Hades backwards
and blew him out the front door.

Exhausted, Demeter crouched down against the

cherry-stained wooden cabinets and slouched. She hated
using her powers while living in close proximity with the
mortals, but Hades gave her no choice.

From that moment on, she knew that she hadn’t been

protecting her daughter to the best of her abilities. She had
to step up her game because Hades would not and
probably would never take no for an answer.

The next day she’d packed up their belongings. “Time

to move,” she said, taping up a box full of dishes.

“What no!” Persephone cried. “But we haven’t even

been here a year!” She sat down with a slouch, whimpering

softly.

It broke Demeter’s heart to see her daughter so upset.

She knew how much Persephone wanted normalcy. And
sadly Demeter wished their situation was different, but it
wasn’t. She and her daughter were who they were,
immortal goddesses. Not only that, but they were immortal
goddesses on the run from death himself. They weren’t a
normal family and never would be.

One minute to midnight and Demeter rose from her

bed, creeping toward her bedroom door. In sixty seconds
all hell would break loose like it had so many times before.

Persephone

“Persephone,”

he hisses.

“Come to me.”

A shrill, deafening cry escapes from my lips. My lungs

expand as I suck in more air and my throat is raw—chafed,
flakes of dry skin being peeled away after a sun burn.

I bolt upright in my bed as my mother bursts through

the door. Hysteria washes over me. I gasp and choke on a
ball of air wedged in the middle of my esophagus. Fighting.
I’m fighting for the oxygen to leave my lungs.

My mother sweeps me up into her arms and whispers

comforting words into my ears. “Hush, darling. It’s all right.”

I let out long ragged breaths, finally able to breathe.

Tears matriculate in my eyes. I bite them back as beads of
sweat drizzle down my forehead and my arms and legs
begin to convulse.

Mom squeezes me tighter, controlling my flailing limbs.

“Calm down, sweetheart,” she consoles me. “It was only a
dream.”

But this isn’t a dream. This is a voice, life-like and real.

A voice that has been coming to me on my seventeenth
birthday for as long as I can remember. No matter where I
am or what I’m doing, every seventeen years he comes to
me, taunting me. And it’s always the same thing,

Persephone.

Come to me.

The reality of it haunts me. This

is not a figment of my imagination.

“It feels so real,” I mumble, suddenly exhausted.

“Sometimes dreams feel more real than not,” my

mother says, tucking me underneath the covers. “Go back
to sleep, love.”

“Persephone,”

he hisses again.

“Come to me. Come

to me. Come to me.”

The voice blurs and fades, like a faint cry riding on the

tails of the wind. I yawn and stretch, rolling over. I fold my
pillow under my head and wait for the voice to return. When
I hear nothing but the sound of my own breathing I allow
myself to drift back into a dreamless slumber.

****

“Happy Birthday!” my mother squeals. Her face inches

“Happy Birthday!” my mother squeals. Her face inches

away from mine.

I open one eye squinting, still half asleep. “Thanks,” I

grumble and roll over.

“No way, young lady.” She rips my comforter off me.

“Time to wake up.”

“Ugh. Isn’t it supposed to be my day?” I whine. “Can’t

you let me sleep a little longer?”

She smirks, shaking her head. “Nope. You have

school.”

Hurling my legs over the side of the bed, I rise slowly

and my eyes adjust to the bright lighting in my room. My
mother observes me for a second then tears well up in her
eyes.

“Don’t cry, Mom.” It bothers me seeing her so

emotional.

“I can’t help it,” she sniffles. “My baby is almost an

adult.”

I roll my eyes. “Mom, do you have to do this every

seventeen years? My real seventeenth birthday was like
forever ago.”

She pulls a tissue out of the pocket of her violet

cardigan and blows her nose. “That’s the beauty of being
immortal my dear. You never run out of seventeenth
birthdays.”

Most of the time I thought of our immortality as being

more of a curse than a blessing. I imagine most humans
would cherish the opportunity to never grow old. In the
beginning of my life, I have to say it was fascinating. But
living forever does become tiresome, when a person has
been around as long as I have.

“Get ready for school, honey,” she commands. “After

you get home, I’ve got a fun day planned for us.”

“Ugh,” I groan. “Can’t I just have a quiet, low-key

birthday for once?”

She tucks a loose piece of her auburn hair behind her

ear. “Now what kind of mother would I be if we did that?”

A mother who actually listens to what her daughter

wants. “Fine,” I say, defeated. “I’ll be downstairs in a little
bit.”

She kisses my forehead gently. “Good.” Then she

walks out of my room.

At my dresser, I slide open the top drawer. The cherry

At my dresser, I slide open the top drawer. The cherry

stained wooden container is relatively new and the smell of
fresh cedar hasn’t faded yet. I inhale deeply, filling my lungs
with the musky scent and I adore it. Any scent reminding
me of the outdoors is something that I’ll never get tired of.
Being the Goddess of Springtime probably has something
to do with that.

Reaching into the drawer, I fumble through my

assortment of underwear and inch my fingers toward the
bottom. I graze my fingertips over a smooth flat object. My
journal. I retrieve it and set it on top of my dresser. Another
year. Another birthday. Keeping track of all of my birthdays
is something I’ve done for ages. In fact, I’ve got about
twenty crates in our attic reminding me of how many
birthdays have accrued over the years.

We left Greece five-thousand years ago and have

never looked back.

“Why are we leaving?” I’d once asked.

My mother didn’t elaborate. “Don’t ask questions. Just

gather your things.”

I have it on good authority that my mother had a reason

for making me flee the only home I knew. But I never asked
her any questions about why we were leaving after that. I
simply did as I was told.

Flipping through the pages of my journal, I found the

spot where I’d written in it last. Three more pages to go.
Two more birthdays, then I’ll need a new one.

“Hurry up in there!” Mom’s voice has a nagging tone to

it. “You’re going to be late!”

“I’m coming!”

I pick up a pen off my dresser and write down the

same thing I write every seventeen years.

My Seventeenth Birthday-April 25, 2011

Location-Klamath Falls, Oregon.

The voice came again.

The first time I heard the voice was shortly after we had

left Greece. Back then, when it came to me, it was a soft,
rhythmic, seductive voice that wrapped around me like
crushed velvet, a deep tone that caressed me, making my
spine tingle. I felt drawn to it. Curiosity plagued me. I knew it
was a man. The all-around over-powering, voice didn’t
belong to a woman.

For centuries, the whole complexity of this situation

puzzled me. Who exactly was this person? Why was he

trying to reach out to me? What did he want from me?

After hearing the voice for five seventeenth birthdays in

a row, I went to my mother and told her about it. I don’t really
know what I had expected from her but, it wasn’t laughter.
After she contained herself, she had me convinced that I
was dreaming this voice up. Until seventeen years later, it
came again. And after mentioning it to her once well, her
reaction made me never mention it again.

****

I enter the kitchen. An incessant plunking noise echoes

from the sink as droplets of water from the faucet drip into
the metal basin. Other than that, it’s silent. My eyes dart
around the empty, organized room. “Mom, where are you?”

No answer.

In the middle of the kitchen table is a bowl of fruit. A

loud, rolling rumble escapes my belly. I stare at the fruit,
thinking it looks vaguely familiar. The round reddish fruit
resembles a plum, but slightly larger. I’m starving and it
looks delicious. Pulling out a chair I plop down in front of the
bowl. Buried in the center, tucked between the balls of
round deliciousness is a white card. “Hmm.” I pick the card
up and scan it.

Happy Birthday.

Love,

H

“H? Who is H?”

I shrug and toss the card aside. Maybe he knows my

mother. It has to be someone she knows and I think that
them sending me a bowl of fruit for my birthday is an awfully
kind gesture.

After grabbing the biggest piece, I bring the plump,

fruit to my lips. I open my mouth to take a bite when I hear
my mom scream. I face her, my mouth still hanging open,
the fruit still in my hand.

“What are you doing?” she shrieks, races toward me,

and slaps the fruit out of my hand. It hits the floor with a thud
and rolls under the kitchen table. “What were you thinking?”
She’s panicking, fumbling as she tries to move a chair, and
mumbling incoherent words under her breath. Her face
twitches and she scrambles to pick the fruit up off the floor.

I’ve never seen her like this. I’ve never seen her so

unglued. “What’s wrong with you?” I’m so confused and
concerned. Why is she freaking out over a piece of fruit?

She palms the fruit and waves it my face. “What were

you trying to do with this?”

“Trying to do with it? I was gonna eat it. I’m hungry.”

Her eyes widen and the rosy color fades from her

cheeks. “You do not eat this, you hear me!”

I’m puzzled by her wild and crazy antics. “It’s just a

piece of fruit.”

She exhales and a calm look forms on her face. Then

she places the fruit in her hand on top of the pile and
carries the bowl over to the counter. “If you’re hungry I’ll
make you some oatmeal.”

Something is going on. She’s keeping something from

me. “What’s going on, Mom? Is there something you’re not
telling me?”

“There is nothing going on, Persephone. I just don’t

want you to eat the fruit, okay. We don’t know where it
came from.”

I snatch the index card from the table. “I do. Someone

named H.”

Her head turns slowly, her eyes slant. She’s silent for a

moment, then her turquoise eyes widen, burning into my

moment, then her turquoise eyes widen, burning into my
jade-green ones. “Who?”

She walks toward me as I flip the card over and stare

at my name. “All it says is Happy Birthday, love H.”

A worried look appears on her face aging her youthful

features in a matter of seconds. She rips the card from my
hand and crumbles it in her palm.

“Hey!” I protest. “That was mine!”

“You’re going to be late for school.” Her tone is vacant

and she stares off in a trance.

Standing, I fling my back pack over my shoulder. She’s

right. I do have to get to school, but I’m not going to just
forget about what happened. And I have every intention of
bringing this up again when I get home.

Persephone

As I walk down my porch steps, thoughts involving my

mother’s erratic behavior remain constant. I just don’t
understand. What’s with all the craziness? What kind of fruit
was she keeping me from eating? I know I’ve seen the fruit
somewhere before. But where? Ugh. I rack my brain, trying
to remember, but five thousand years of memories are way
too many to sort through at one time.

What bothers me more than anything is, no matter

what mom tells me, I know she’s lying to me about
something.

For the last five thousand years we’ve been on the run,

moving every decade sometimes less than a decade. The
shortest amount of time we’ve spent in one place is six
months. In all, I’ve lived on every continent, in at least
seventy five thousand cities, sometimes more than once,
and all fifty states. And I’ve never known what or who we’ve
been running from.

Mom blames it on the mortals. She says we have to

blend. But eventually blending isn’t enough. Then we move
and begin the blending process all over again.

Even though mom says the mortals are why we move

so often I’ve always had this gut feeling that it’s more than
that. There’s another reason because mom knows as well
as I do that the mortals aren’t the reason why we left
Greece. We left for another reason, something mom
refuses to explain. Her vagueness makes me questions her
methods every time we pack up and globe trot.

Could we be running from the man behind

the voice?

I’m so involved in my theories, talking to myself, and

keeping my eyes on the ground that I don’t even see him
coming. Before I can stop myself, I run into him and
stumble. He grabs both of my arms and steadies me. “Hey,
you.” His voice is full of warmth. “You feeling okay?”

I lift my head and gaze at him. My head spins. I’m

dizzy. “Hi, Adonis,” I say and greet him with a nervous
smile. “I’m fine. I’m just a little ticked at my Mom.”

Adonis moved next door a few months ago. Him

moving here was strange, almost like he blew in with the
wind. I could have sworn I saw Mrs. Darwin, the kind little
old lady who’d lived there her entire life out in the front yard,
gardening a week before he moved in. Then one day, a few

days before he showed up she was gone. But I just
shrugged it off. She was old and I figured she either died or
her kids put her in a home.

Adonis is a year older than me and he usually walks

with me to school in the morning. He flashes me a brilliant
smile and I quietly take a deep breath. I’ve never in all my
years living seen a teenage boy that looked like him. He’s
too beautiful for words.

His touch makes me sizzle and I feel like I’m starting to

grow limp. He releases me and backs away. The early
morning sun kisses his bronzed skin and he looks like he’s
shimmering. A sinful smirk and two dimples later and I feel
like I can’t breathe.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

We start walking and Adonis reaches into his book

bag and hands me a piece of paper. “Happy Birthday,” he
says.

My heart flutters and my pulse races. Perspiration

forms on my hands. I try to find words, but I’m flustered. As
he looks away I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants.
“Adonis, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

Sometimes he does little things like this that make me

wonder if he’s interested in us being more than just friends
who walk to school together. One time he picked me a
bouquet of wildflowers. Another time he’d sent me a get
well card when I lied about being home with the flu. School
isn’t that important to someone like me. I can’t even count
how many times I’ve actually graduated high school. The
only reason I go at all is because of mom and her blending
routine. So I fake being sick a lot.

Adonis is always smiling at me and I catch him staring

at me every day during lunch even though he has a dozen
girls at his table swooning over him.

On top of that, he’s a gentleman, always holding the

door open for me when we leave school. He offers to carry
my back pack or books or whatever I’m holding at the time
and he always asks me if I want to hang out. And it rips me
open inside when I have to refuse.

Mom doesn’t let me have friends. And she definitely

wouldn’t let me have a boyfriend. A boyfriend would earn
me a round trip ticket to another state. I remember one of
our debates a few years back when we were living in
Massachusetts. A kid from my class who I sort of had a
crush on, kissed me and I’d let him. The kiss took place on
the front steps of the school, in front of the entire student
body, and in front of mom who had been watching it unfold
from her mini-van. I took my time walking to the car that day

because I could see her face, twisted and bunched up from
the school steps. She was furious.

“That’s it!” she’d shouted. Pack up. We’re moving.”

“Mom, no!” I’d protested. “It was just a kiss.”

“Persephone,” she’d said sternly. “You know we’re not

like the mortals. If we stay in one place for too long or get
too close they’ll start to suspect something. Don’t whine.
Pack your things. We leave tomorrow morning.”

I like Oregon. I’m not ready to leave yet.

Adonis gazes into my eyes. “I wanted to. It’s nothing

much. Just something I saw in a department store
downtown that I thought you’d like. And don’t get mad,” he
says. “I know you said you hate celebrating your birthday,
but it reminded me of you.”

I beam and laugh giddily. “I’m not mad. I’m just saying

you didn’t have to.”

He stops in front of me and I come to a halt. “Open it.”

His amber eyes shimmer like topaz gems in the sunlight
and are filled with excitement.

Eagerly, I rip into the paper and my breathing stops.

“Oh my. Adonis, it’s beautiful.” Fanned out along the heel of

my hand is a delicate silver bracelet with an ornate rose
charm dangling from it.

“Let me put it on you,” he says with a smile.

After I shove the excess wrapping paper in my book

bag, I hold my wrist out and he fastens the bracelet. Lifting
my hand, I marvel at the gift and as the sun catches the
charm, it glistens.

I shoot him a patronizing look. “Seriously though, how

much did something like this cost?”

“Don’t you worry about it. It’s your birthday.”

“Still. You could have spent your money on something

you wanted or needed. Instead you spend it on a gift me.”

He shakes his head as a smile spans across his lips.

“I have all I want and need. Just do me a favor and enjoy the
gift.”

A flicker of light reflecting off the bracelet catches my

eye and I look down at it again. Then I glimpse at Adonis,
but he doesn’t meet my gaze. He’s staring straight ahead,
his amber eyes sparkling, and a radiant smile as bright as
the sun on his lips. An uneasy feeling swirls around in my
gut. This is not a friendly gift. This is a gift that says he
wants to be more than friends and that scares the Goddess

out of me.

****

Klamath Falls high isn’t a school that holds very many

secrets. Every morning as I walk to my locker, I know what
to expect. I know that Kate Perry and Grant Pierce will me
making out in front of the mass of black metal and I know
that I’ll have to shove them aside with my shoulder just to
get my books. I know that Mr. Doyle, the gym teacher will be
standing at the end of the hall checking his watch
periodically to make sure there aren’t any stragglers
lingering in the halls after the bell rings. And I also know that
the popular kids will stroll past me flashing me scowls
before they break out into a hymn of whispers.

I’ve been here since I was a freshman and despite my

efforts to be friendly, they’ve never warmed to me. When
we’d first moved here, I knew trying to talk to people would
be difficult. Klamath Falls is a small town and the
townspeople and students have been sorted into their own
social circles since they were children. There’s no room for
someone like me in those existing cliques. There’s no room
for a freak anywhere.

One of the cheerleaders in my biology class labeled

me a freak about three months after I’d started high school.
During biology, I had a weak moment where I noticed a
dying rose on the teacher’s desk. Just the sight of the

rotting petals and wilted stem made my heart ache. So
when the teacher wasn’t looking, I touched the flower and it
magically came back to life. The vibrant red petals
regained their full color and the wrinkles in the stem faded
away.

Sasha Ferrar’s mouth had dropped open and her

emerald eyes followed me back to my seat and then she
looked over her shoulder. “What did you do,

freak

?”

All of the Immortal Olympians are gifted with special

powers. In my opinion, I’ve been cursed with the lousiest
one. The only thing I can do is revive dead plants. My dad,
Zeus can shift into any animal he wants or shoot bolts of
lightning from his fingertips. Why can’t I do something like
that?

Ever since that day, I never slipped up again. My

façade of normalcy is too precious and I prayed every day
that my mom would never find out about the incident. She
didn’t. Sasha eventually forgot about the rose, but the freak
name stuck to me like a sign on the back that says ‘kick
me’.

I enter my first period class—which is English and this

semester we are studying Mythology. Kind of ironic, isn’t it?

Mrs. Kirk, the petite mousy teacher leans against her

desk as I slide into my seat. A strand of my mahogany hair

breaks free from my ponytail. At first I try blowing the strand
out of my face. I give up when the reddish brown strip only
moves a centimeter so I tuck it behind my ear.

Marisol Nicholls plops down next to me. Red flushes

her ivory cheeks as she fumbles through her folders. She
mumbles a string of choice words under her breath and
nervously brushes her curly orange hair over her shoulder. I
smile amused. “You okay, Mar?”

“Argh. I can’t find that print-out Mrs. Kirk gave us

yesterday,” she whines. “I have a hard enough time in this
class as it is.”

Marisol flips through her textbook. She’s the only

person I can call an acquaintance. We talk in school and
sometimes we text and there have been a few times where
we’ve wrote on each other’s Facebook walls, but that’s all
our relationship consists of. I wish she could be my friend. I
wish we could do all the things I’ve seen other girl best
friends do. Have sleepovers, go shopping, and maybe
even crash a few parties. But every time I think about it, a
vivid picture of mom holding out two plane tickets pops into
my head and I remember that I’m lucky we haven’t moved
yet.

Marisol pulls a sheet of paper out of the back of her

text book. She kisses it and I laugh. “Thank the Gods,” she
jokes. After she lays the paper flat on her desk, she turns

toward me. “Hey! I almost forgot. Happy Birthday, P!”

The bell rings and Mrs. Kirk’s head snaps to her left.

Her beady grey eyes zoom in on Marisol. “Miss Nicholls, is
there something you’d like to share with the rest of the
class?”

Marisol drops her head and slinks down in her seat.

“No,” Marisol answers quietly.

Her eyes flash over to mine as Mrs. Kirk faces the

class. “Thank you,” I mouth with a smile.

“Okay, class!” Mrs. Kirk announces as she reaches

over her shoulder to grab a wicker basket. “Take a piece of
paper from the basket and pass it to the person behind
you. And do not open your paper until everyone has one.”
She walks over to me and hands me the basket. I take a
piece of folded up paper and pass it to the person behind
me.

Once everyone has a paper, Mrs. Kirk takes the

basket back and sets it on the edge of her desk. “Alright.”
She clasps her hands together excitedly. “Open your
papers.”

The rustling of paper echoes throughout the

classroom. I stare down at my paper as a smug grin crawls
across my lips. Marisol hangs out of her desk, straining to

see the name on my paper. “Who did you get?”

I hold up the paper so she can get a clear look.

“Demeter, you?” Inside an explosion of glee travels through
me. I will definitely get an A on this assignment. Demeter,
Goddess of the Harvest is my mom. It’s not that I really
need to focus on getting good grades; it’s that it makes me
feel more normal if I do.

Marisol falls back into her seat, slumping. “Hades,” she

grumbles. “How come everyone else always gets the good
ones?”

A soft laugh leaves my throat at the sight of Marisol

sulking like a child. “I’m sure the God of the Dead could be
interesting.”

She rolls her eyes. “More like the God of Dread.

“I’ll help you if you want,” I offer.

Marisol perks up, her eyes glistening with hope.

“Would you trade me?”

“You cannot trade!” Mrs. Kirk pipes up.

Marisol exhales and winces. “Bummer.”

“This will be your final essay assignment,” Mrs. Kirk

announces as she walks around to sit down at her desk.
“It’s going to make up eighty percent of your grade.”

I hiss softly, trying to get Marisol’s attention. I lower my

hand with the paper in it, and her eyes meet mine. She
drops her head slowly, finally catching on to what I’m doing.
A bright smile curls on her lips and she snatches the paper
from my hand and replaces it with hers. Mrs. Kirk won’t
know we switched. She didn’t ask us who we’d selected.
Plus she’s not paying attention at the moment.

The small crumpled up piece of paper with Hades in

black permanent marker fills my vision. Surprisingly, Hades
is a God I don’t know much about. I’ve never asked about
him and on top of that, mom refuses to talk about the
commander of the Underworld.

I recall one story she told me about him centuries ago.

“Hades is the master of deception and trickery,” she’d

told me. “When Zeus had problems with the mortals, Hades
summoned a beast from the depths of Tartarus to teach
humanity a lesson. You see he envied Zeus for giving him
command of the realm of the dead. So in return he
pretended to use his beast to do Zeus’s bidding, but he’d
really only intended to use the Kraken for his own selfish
reasons.”

“The Kraken?” I’d questioned.

“A monstrous beast over one hundred feet tall, with

fangs as long as spears, and slimy skin with scales.” Mom
lowered her voice, a frightening look on her face. “The
Kraken could eat a hundred mortals with a snap of its’ jaw.”

“That’s terrifying,” I’d gasped. “What did Zeus do?” I

remember that she’d told me that story right before bed
time.

“Never you mind.” She’d kissed the top of my head.

“You just go to sleep and try to dream of pleasant things.”
Trying to dream of pleasant things after hearing a story like
that was like asking for snow in the desert. I laid awake for
half of the night, eyes wide, glued to the ceiling.

During lunch exhaustion creeps over me and I struggle

to keep my eyes open. I lay my head on the cool, hard table
and close my eyes. All I want to do is sleep away my fears.
Sleep right through my birthday and forget about the voice.
The voice that I know will pop up randomly at any given
moment throughout the rest of the day.

As my slumber deepens, my mind slips away from me.

I’m dreaming, lost in a world that I haven’t been to in five
thousand years. I am outdoors. I am running and a gust of
wind whips through my hair tossing up the scent of freesia. I
suck in lungfuls of the smell of wildflowers, and pluck a
bouquet from the earth. Shifting, I peek over my shoulder. I

know where I am. I’m in one of the most cherished places of
my past, in the field at Enna on the outskirts of Mount
Olympus.

Marching forward, a garden of yellow daffodils draws

me closer to edge of the field. I bend over, reaching for a
daffodil to add to my heaping bouquet when I hear it—the
voice.

“Persephone,”

he hisses.

“Come to me.”

I’m perplexed

and curious, but at the same time fear swallows me,
digesting me like a mammal in an anaconda’s stomach. My
spine stiffens. A strangled gasp sticks in my throat. My
lungs clench and refuse to expand. Straightening up, my
attention averts to a willow tree at the edge of the field.

A man with dark hair stands underneath the tree

watching me.

Thick saliva coats the lining of my esophagus, sticky

like warm molasses. I try to push it down with more saliva,
but I can’t. On the outside I appear to be calm, but on the
inside I’m a knot of hysteria. Shrieking, trembling, and
sobbing. The man’s face is blurred and I can’t make out his
features. He’s dressed from head to toe in black. I lurch
forward fighting the better half of myself that’s screaming for
me to stay put. “Who aaare you?” I stutter.

He doesn’t answer.

As I close the gap between us I can make out his

broad, muscular build. The man tilts his head to the side
and I swear I can see a set of eyes as blue as the Aegean
Sea. “Are you the voice?” My own voice goes up an octave.

I’m so close to him now that I can make out his

profound jaw-line, high cheek bones, and the slightest bit of
stubble on his chin. But then, when I’m only feet away he
vanishes into thin air. He’s a particle of matter floating in the
atmosphere. Invisible. I’m so confused. “Where did you
go?” I pivot in a circle, taking in the whole field, but the
mysterious man is nowhere in sight. “Where did you go?”

A finger digs into my shoulder and I pivot again. I’m still

alone. “Who’s touching me?” Then a hand clamps down on
my shoulder and I’m shaking. My whole body is shaking.
“Stop it!” I swat at the invisible hand frantically. “Stop
touching me!” The shaking intensifies and I feel my whole
body convulsing.

“P!”

“Stop! Get your hands off me!”

“P! Damn it! Wake up!”

My eyes snap open. Marisol is inches away from my

face wearing a concerned look. I sit up and stifle a glance

around the packed cafeteria. “Mar?”

“Are you okay?” Marisol gasps. “You scared the crap

out of me.”

“Yeah,” I breathe. “I must have dozed off and had some

kind of nightmare.”

“I’ll say.”

She gives me another apprehensive look. “Are you

sure you’re okay?”

I nod and relief floods through me. I’m elated to be in

the safe haven of the cafeteria. The dream felt too real and
my cheeks are hot, like I’d actually been basking in the
warmth of the sun. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” Marisol slides a thick book with a hard cover

casing toward me.

I stare at the cover. “Greek Myths for Beginners.”

“I found it in the library,” she tells me. “Remember how

you offered to help me?”

“Yeah. My offer still stands.”

“Well, I’m taking it,” she says discouragingly. “I’m

terrible in mythology.”

I smile. “Well, luckily for you, I’m not.”

“Of course you’re not. Your name is Persephone for

God’s sake. You have to have Greek in you somewhere.”

“Some.” More than she’s aware of.

Flipping through the book, I laugh; amused at how

mortals recount the existence of the Olympians if they only
knew we could actually vouch for ourselves, I’m sure this
would make their literature seem silly. I turn a few more
pages and freeze, stopping about half-way through the
book. “Oh…” A breath is clogged in the back of my throat.
“No.”

Marisol leans over my shoulder, focusing on the image

on the page. “What’s the matter?”

I stare at a picture of the fruit I’d received as a birthday

gift this morning. The thick reddish skin fills my gaze and I
make a shocking discovery. “H is Hades.”

Marisol draws her eyebrows together. “Huh?” She

points to the picture, reading the paragraph beneath it. “The
book says that’s a pomegranate. Supposedly, it’s the fruit
of the dead.”

A queasy feeling ripples through my stomach. “H is

Hades,” I repeat robotically. Rising from the table I can feel
my knees trembling. I lock them in place as Marisol follows
me with her brown child-like eyes. “What’s going on P?”

I’m numb and a feeling of betrayal surges through me. I

picture mom’s panicked look when I placed the
pomegranate against my lips. “She knows,” I pant as my
breaths come out short and raspy. Backing away from the
table, I’m hyperventilating. Shock is a brick sitting in the pit
of my stomach. I want to spit it out. I want to throw it up. “I
don’t feel so hot. I have to go home,” I mumble.

“P, wait! What’s wrong?”

“Just text me later if you still need help,” I tell her. Then I

bolt from the cafeteria, sprinting to the exit.

Persephone

There’s a sledgehammer in my head pounding

questions through my cranium.

Mom…. She has moved me from place to place, and

she’s never explained why. She was always giving me
vague answers or telling me it was because of the mortals,
but it’s not. We’ve been moving because of him—because
of Hades.

As I storm toward the exit I’m a jumbled mixture of rage

and uncertainty. What does Hades want from me? Why has
he been chasing me for all this time?

I glance down at the floor, so involved in my own

thoughts I trip, bumping into someone. “I’m sorry,” I groan,
eyes still on the floor.

Adonis grips my shoulders. “Easy there.” I lift my head

and he gives me a warm smile. “Where are you going in
such a hurry?”

Sometimes I think it’s odd that he pops up at the most

unopportune moments and I always manage to do
something clumsy in his presence. Last nine weeks he was
in my art class and I accidentally dumped an entire can of
red paint on him. I’m normally not like that, but around him
all of my coordination dwindles away. Maybe it’s because
he’s too pretty and way too nice.

Brent McCall was the resident hottie at Klamath Falls

High, with rippling muscles, a perfect Crest tooth-paste
smile, and a crown of gold a top his head. Well, he was the
resident hottie until Adonis arrived and stole the title. The
difference between Adonis and Brent is that Brent is an
ass; calling students names, shoving the smart kids in
lockers, and walking around like he owns the place. And
with Adonis it’s almost like he’s naïve, almost like he
doesn’t know how attractive he really is.

I inhale deep and exhale slowly. Warmth sears through

me from Adonis’s touch and extinguishes the burning rage.
“I don’t feel good. I need to go home.” He smirks at me
flirtatiously and I look away. My heart hammers nails into my
ribcage and part of me wants to stare at his beautiful smile
for the rest of my immortal life, but I’m absorbed by my
worries and fear to handle my emotions involving him right
now. “Adonis,” I whisper, peeling his hands off my
shoulders. “I have to go.”

I brush past him, sprinting out the back exit door and I

hear him yell, “Are you going to be okay?”

What I want to tell him is no, Adonis, I don’t know if I’ll

ever be okay ever again. Right now, my life is a global
catastrophe, an asteroid disintegrating the planet, a
tsunami wiping out an entire country. For the last five
thousand years, I’ve been moved all over the world. For the
last five thousand years, I’ve been lied to repeatedly. I’ve
been laughed at, tortured by a voice that I was led to
believe was an illusion. I’ve had to pretend to be a million
different people when all I’ve really wanted to be is myself.

But I don’t tell him any of that. I can’t tell him any of that.

I just keep running and running and don’t look back.

I run until I’m standing in front of my house. Shiny black

paint fills up my gaze and I scowl at the

Ferrari

in my

driveway. “Freakin great.” My dad is here and I’m one
hundred percent sure he’s not here to wish me a happy
birthday.

In my eyes, Zeus had earned my respect, but that’s

pretty much it. I don’t call him dad and we don’t have any
type of father-daughter relationship. Actually, I don’t have
any fond memories of him at all. He was just there, hanging
around like an antique tapestry hanging on the wall in a
person’s home.

Mom had told me once that he never came around

because of Hera. Everyone on Olympus knew that her
jealous nature could be a vengeful bitch, but I’d always
thought that was a lousy excuse, a lousy excuse because
Zeus was and always will be the type of God who likes to
have his cake and eat it too. As long as I’ve known him,
he’s always wanted the best of both worlds. Those worlds
being the mortal world and the immortal.

Walking around to the back door, I try to keep all of my

emotions in check. I try to tell myself to stay calm, but it’s
impossible. Disloyalty, Fury, and ambiguity melt together
inside of me and I can hear the crackle from a lit fuse. I can
feel the sparks as they scorch my organs. I’m a bomb. In
minutes I’m going to explode.

I slip into the kitchen through the sliding glass door.

Locking my knees in place, I try to be as quiet as possible
and I strain to listen for the sound of voices. I hear nothing.

The square country kitchen with apple wallpaper is

submerged in silence. Then I raise my head, slitting my
eyes when I hear movement. Floorboards above me spit
out creaks and groans and the sound of footsteps thud
down the steps. Panic is a fresh stream trickling through my
veins, branching off at my heart. I can feel it beating in my
throat.

No…I can’t confront mom yet.

There’s huge part of me that wants to. Confronting her

and demanding answers was all I could think about on the
run home, but I have a feeling that when mom and Zeus get
in here they are going to be talking about what I want and
need to know anyway. And what if I confront mom after
Zeus leaves? Will she laugh at me again and try to
convince me I’m dreaming all of this up? Will she tell me
that I’m crazy and this voice is just a figment of my
imagination?

Muffled voices carry down the hall. Footsteps pound

like the beat of a drum at the executioners block. I can’t let
them see me. I spin around frantic. Where can I go? Where
can I hide? Turning my head my eyes center on the pantry
door. No… Mom checks the pantry every time she walks
into the kitchen. One of the cupboards? No. There’s no way
I’ll be able to pretzel my long lengthy limbs enough to fit.
Laughter rings out like church bells on a Sunday.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse the small round

kitchen table with the floral table cloth hanging off the
edges. It nearly touches the floor. That’s my only option. So
when mom and Zeus are only feet away, I scamper toward
the table and dive underneath it.

Persephone

Zeus flops down in the wooden chair. The legs belch

out creaks and snaps as it wobbles unsteadily, and for a
second I think it might break beneath his heavy body.

Pulling my knees to my chest I suck in a lungful of air

as moms’ footsteps pound behind me. Zeus stretches his
legs and accidentally kicks my knee. Pain shoots up my
thigh and I let out a squeak, and then clamp my hands
tightly over my mouth to keep myself from crying out again.

Zeus stiffens, alert of my presence. “What was that?”

he questions suspiciously. He hunches over, gripping the
edge of the table cloth and lifts up the plastic covering the
slightest bit. Instinctively, I shield my face with my arms as a
knot of fear ties itself to the lining of my stomach.

The pantry door swings open and I can hear mom

shuffling around in there. “Relax. It’s probably nothing,” she
assures him. “This is an old house. It makes noises.” Zeus
lowers the tablecloth, sitting upright and mom walks over to
the table. A loud clash rumbles through the quiet room like

thunder and shakes the table. “He sent her these.”

I tuck myself into a tighter ball as mom sits down

behind me, her feet eerily close to my back. He sent her
these? That has to be the bowl of pomegranates I received
earlier.

“Demeter,” Zeus says. “I think you’re reading into this

too much. They are only pomegranates.”

“I love how you’re acting so casual about this,” mom

scoffs sarcastically. “Only pomegranates!” Her voice hikes.
“Have you been away from Olympus too long, Zeus? Have
you forgotten that pomegranates are the fruit of the dead?
You know what will happen if she eats one.”

“Did she?”

“Did she what?”

“Eat one.”

“No,” mom huffs, shifting in her chair. “But she would

have if I wouldn’t have walked into the kitchen and stopped
her. And I think we both know what would have happened if
I hadn’t stopped her. She’d be half-way across the Styx by
now.”

There’s an awkward moment of silence. I hug my

knees tighter as my legs start trembling. Tears swell in my
eyes and I swallow hard, exhaling, rolling my head back,
doing everything I can to keep my tears from spilling.
Across the Styx? If I cross the Styx I know I can kiss the
sunshine goodbye, I can forget the smell of wildflowers, I
can forget the earth in its beauty and the living things that
inhabit it. Goddess or not, I do know this; if you become
one with the realm of the dead, you might as well consider
yourself dead because there is a high probability that you’ll
never come back.

Zeus lets out a frustrated sigh. “Demeter, he’s going to

keep coming for her. You know you can’t stop him.”

“I can and I will, Zeus. I will not let him take my only

daughter.” There’s a harsh tone of determination in mom’s
voice.

“You’ve been running from him for five thousand years.

Maybe it’s time that you two struck up some sort of
bargain.”

“Have you lost your mind?” mom shrieks. “And

besides, we wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for you!”

Zeus slams his fist into the center of the table and I

examine a crack as it travels from one end to the other. “I
made a mistake!” he booms in a grizzly voice. “A mistake
that I have regretted for the last five thousand! A mistake

that you have never let me forget!”

“You’re the God of Gods. You shouldn’t make

mistakes.” Mom’s tone is cold and brutal.

“Demeter, did I not go back on my deal with him? Have

I not done everything in my power to keep you two safe?
Have I not provided you with homes, hideouts, and financial
stability? Have I not shielded her from him? I put up that
time shield centuries ago, so he only has until midnight on
her birthday to take her! And you know me, I’ve never been
a God who goes back on his word. And I did that without a
second thought, for you and her!”

“Obviously you haven’t kept her safe enough or really

shielded her from him at all. He comes to her, you know?
He’s been coming to her since right after we left Olympus.”

“Physically?”

“Not physically,” mom retorts. “You know Hades. He

has other ways of making his presence known. Every
seventeen years, the anniversary of the day you made the
deal with him—her birthday.”

Zeus clears his throat. “So he speaks to her.”

I drown in my own thoughts for a second. Hades has

never come to me physically before, but he did today. He

came to me in my dreams and that makes me curious and
frightened at the same time. Curious because I don’t have
any answers to the questions, popping into my head every
five minutes. Yes, I know who the voice is and now I know
why we’ve been running, but it doesn’t make sense that
Hades would chase me for five-thousand years because of
a broken agreement. And I’m frightened because instead
of just his voice, he’s physically coming to me and that can
only mean one thing; there’s something different about this
birthday. That something swirls around in my gut like
nausea after eating a bad burrito. Something telling me,
that this year, on this birthday, Hades might actually
succeed.

“More like taunts her,” mom says. “He infiltrates her

mind, filling her subconscious with his dark voice and it
terrifies her. It started again at midnight. I rushed in her
room to comfort her because she woke up screaming.”

“Why haven’t you told me about this?” Zeus inquires in

a serious tone.

“Zeus, what are you going to do? Number one, Hades

has never listened to you. You know he’s selfish and you
know he will pursue what he wants at any cost. Two, you’ve
chosen to be eternally absent from Persephone’s life.”

“You know as well as I do that’s not the case,” he

growls.

Mom exhales, calming down. “Whatever. Zeus, we’re

both on the same page now. We have to try and figure out a
way to stop him.”

I’m torn between my feelings of hurt, terror, and anger.

I’m hurt because of the way mom has kept everything
hidden from me for all this time. Deep down inside, I know
she was only doing it to protect me, but there’s a part of me
that feels like I’ve had a knife in my back for the last five-
thousand years. And now I feel the knife being wedged in
deeper and deeper. The dull metal is inches away from my
spinal cord, any closer and the cool blade of destruction will
paralyze me.

Then anger trumps the hurt when I think of Zeus and

how he struck up this deal with Hades. It didn’t matter that
he went back on the deal. He should have never bargained
with my life to begin with. Finally terror, terror is a school of
hungry piranha’s, munching on my fleshy muscles, ripping
the meat from my bones. It won’t be long before it eats me
alive. Am I destined to live out my eternal existence in a
world full of darkness and death?

I bury my face in my lap. I’m an emotional mess, an

overflowing landfill with pieces of trash scattered
everywhere and a rotting stench permeating the air.
Nobody will clean me up. All they’ll do is bury me. Bury me
with their lies, secrets, and empty promises. I lift my head

and center on Zeus’s shin. The bulky muscle in his calf
bulges as he shakes his leg. Fury twists in the core of my
chest and my lungs expand as I huff violently.

I’m tired of being lied to. I’m tired of being kept in the

dark. And it’s about time I let them know.

Persephone

Rocking onto my tailbone, I fling my leg out as hard as I

can and blast Zeus with the heel of my foot in the shin.
Despite putting all of my effort into kick, it doesn’t even
phase him. He doesn’t even flinch. I hear the puzzled tone in
Zeus’s voice. “What the?” Then he lifts the tablecloth and
looks me dead in the eye. His eyes are pools of blue with
puddles of green around the irises. I scowl at him, angrily.

Mom shifts behind me. “Zeus, what is it?” The

tablecloth rustles and a creak erupts from mom’s chair as
she bends over. “Persephone!” she yells. “What on earth?”

I turn my head toward her, narrow my eyes, and try to

breathe. Then I scramble out from underneath the table as
they both sit up. I shoot daggers between them with my
eyes. I don’t know what to say to whom first. Zeus stands
and bursts out in a jovial, fake laugh. “Happy Birthday,
Princess!”

“Zip it Zeus!” I shout.

Mom flies out of her chair and her abrupt departure

sends the wooden seat crashing to the floor. “Don’t you talk
to your father that way! How long were you under there?”

“For the whole damn conversation!”

“Don’t you take that done with me, Persephone!” Mom

places her fists on her hips. “You’re supposed to be in
school!”

“Well, thank the God’s I came home! If I hadn’t maybe

then I would have never found out that I have liars for
parents!”

“Don’t you dare,” mom gasps. Behind her I hear Zeus

breathing heavily as mom and I continue to bicker with one
another. She wags her finger in my face and I fold my arms
across my chest. Suddenly a hiss and a sizzle interrupts our
heated discussion. I glimpse over my shoulder and Zeus’s
face is crimson, his jaw clenched and sparks fly out of his
fingertips. He lifts his hands slowly as ball of thin white lines
flash and swirl like a cyclone. He palms the lightning bolt.
“ENOUGH!” I throw my arms up over my head, prepared to
duck and cover.

Just as he raises his arm preparing chuck the bolt into

the wall, mom rushes to his side and gets a firm grip on his
arm. “Zeus! No!” She yanks hard on his raised arm and he

slowly lowers it. “Calm down, Zeus,” she soothes him. Zeus
lowers his head and meets my mother’s gaze. The bolt
vanishes and he lets out a long, winded sigh.

“I’m done with this!” I run from the kitchen, ignoring

mom and Zeus.

“Persephone! You come back here now!”

I don’t listen.

This is one time where I’m not going to be her naïve

obedient daughter. This is one time where I’m not going to
do what I’m told.

In my room, I lock the door, and then pace back and

forth in front of my bed. The contents of my room blur in my
vision. Sea green walls, cherry furniture, the white throw rug,
pretty soon I feel like I’m partially blind because all the color
swirl together. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe my mom.
Most of all, I can’t believe that I hadn’t caught on to what
was going on sooner.

The doorknob to my room turns abruptly. I stop mid-

pace and glare at the brass knob as mom turns it with more
force. Then she slams her first into the door. “Persephone!
Open this door now!”

I don’t even want to hear her voice right now. I need to

think. And besides, I know exactly what she’s going to say.
She’s going to tell me she did this to protect me. I don’t
mom knows what the definition of “protect” is.

Over the centuries she’s watched me wake up

screaming—terrified. She’s watched me suffer through
sleepless nights. She’s watched me live in fear of every
seventeenth birthday, and the whole time she knew why the
voice was coming to me. What kind of parent let’s their
child suffer like that? What kind of parent watches their
child in pain and keeps the secret of why their child is in
pain in the first place?

The doorknob jingles again. “I’m serious Persephone!

Open this door!” Mom turns the doorknob so hard I think it
might snap off.

“No! Leave me alone!”

“Pack your things!” she shouts through the door.

“We’re moving!”

I grind my teeth and a lowly breath leaves my slotted

lips. “I am not moving again!”

Part of me thinks this a ruse; mom is just saying this to

get me to open the door.

“Oh yes you are!” She tries twisting the knob again.

“I’ve already purchased the plane tickets.” She lowers her
voice. “This time we’re moving to Vermont. Remember how
much you liked it the last time we lived there?”

“I am not moving!” I march over to the door, unlock it,

and yank it open. “I refuse!”

Mom is propped up against the frame and she smiles.

“Thank you for opening the door.” She brushes past me and
sits down on my bed. Heat rises filling my cheeks with
warmth and I glare at her furiously. I was right; it was all a
ruse to get me to open the door.

Mom pats the spot on the bed next to her. “Sit down.

We need to talk.” I ignore her and fold my arms across my
chest. She shakes her head. “Quit being stubborn,
Persephone.”

“You lied to me!” I snarl.

“Just because I didn’t tell you every single detail

involving our moves does not mean I lied to you. I did this to
protect you.”

“Really? Letting me suffer through centuries of

sleepless nights is protecting me? It’s funny how parenting
works.”

“You want to know the truth, don’t you? I’m about to tell

you,” she says, sternly. “Now sit.”

I huff and sit down next to her. The soft mattress dips

down and coils squeak. I don’t face her. I drop my head and
the planks of the hardwood floors fill my gaze. “Tell me,
then.”

Either way, I’m going to get something out of this

conversation—some answers.

I lift my head, stealing a glimpse at mom out of the

corner of my eyes. Mom adjusts herself scooting farther
back on my bed. “Oh goodness, where do I begin?”

“Gee, I don’t know,” I say sarcastically. “How about the

beginning?”

Mom gives me a hard look. “Lose the attitude.”

A gust of wind leaves my lungs as the heat evaporates

from my cheeks and I start to calm down. “Fine.”

“Before you were born, Hades came to your father and

asked him for a queen. He’d spent centuries in the
underworld alone and his loneliness was finally getting to
him. He longed for companionship. He longed to have
someone to share a life with. So, even though your father
shouldn’t have agreed to this deal, he did, agreeing to give
you to Hades—to be his queen. And just days before your

seventeenth birthday, Hades came for you. But Hades did
not expect your father to go back on the deal. You see, after
watching you grow up, Zeus had become attached to you
and his love for you was greater than his word to Hades.”

Guilt seizes my insides and grips onto my heart. I feel

terrible. “Zeus went back on his word for me?”

Mom nods. “He did.”

One thing I know about my dad is that he’s always

been a God of his word. If he made a deal with someone
he kept it. “I know he hates doing that.”

“He does.” Mom places her hand on my shoulder. “But

that didn’t matter. It matter what your father said. Hades had
already seen you. He’d been watching you from afar and
was taken with you.” Mom lowers her voice and there’s a
hint of sadness in her tone. “Your father tried to bargain with
him. He tried to offer him another woman in place of you,
but it was no use. Hades could not be bargained with. In his
eyes, you were already his. Your father is a very powerful
God, but, he has never been able to control Hades. Hades
is the type of God who will stop at nothing to get what he
wants. He doesn’t take no for an answer. In the end, their
debate over you ended in an explosive argument. Hades
made it perfectly clear, that if your father didn’t hand you
over, he would simply just take you. That night, your father
came to me, informing me of what happened. Then he told

me to take you and flee. So that’s exactly what I did.”

Even after listening to her explanation I still feel like a

part of the story is missing. Most of all, I feel like Atlas. I’m
holding the weight of the world on my shoulders. I hope I’m
strong enough to keep the world up. I hope I don’t let it fall.
Mom and Zeus have sacrificed so much to keep me safe.
All of my anger dwindles away and now I’m not sure what to
do. “What can we do to prevent him from taking me?”

Mom stares ahead, a blank expression on her face.

“It’s harder for him to track us if we keep moving. He has so
many tasks in the underworld that sometimes it takes him a
while to find us. But eventually he does. He always finds us.”

“Why can’t we stand our ground? Are we going to have

to do this for the rest of our immortal lives?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Mom,” I say softly. “I’ll just tell him I don’t want to go.”

Mom sighs. “It doesn’t matter if you want to go. He’ll

find a way to take you. He’s always got something up his
sleeve.”

“Like what he tried with the pomegranates?” Mom

purses her lips and nods. “Have there been other times?”

Mom glances at me solemnly. “So many times over the

years, that I’ve lost count.” She grips my hand and
squeezes. “Do you remember our trip to Catalina Island?”

I smile, recalling one of my most favorite birthdays of

all time. Even though it was two birthdays ago, I can still
remember the way the sand on the beach squished, tickling
the skin between my toes. I can still remember the smell of
clean air mixed with salt. The way the cool breeze felt as it
whipped through my hair. Sunshine on my skin. “That was a
great day.”

“Maybe for you,” mom says. “Not for me.” Mom shifts in

her spot and I shift in mine facing her. “Do you remember
how badly you wanted to ride on the ferry? And how I
wouldn’t let you because I thought it was odd that there
were no other passengers?”

“I was so mad at you for that.”

“You see my love, I knew Hades sent Charon, his

ferryman, and disguised him as the captain on that ferry. I
also knew that if I let you on it, the minute you placed a foot
on that boat, it would sink into the sea and you’d be well on
your way to crossing the river Styx. Hades is very cunning
and very smart, but he doesn’t have the instincts a mother
has when it comes to her child. Any time he’s tried anything,
I’ve always had this gut feeling that something wasn’t right.
I’ve been there to stop him. I will always prevent him from

taking you.”

After listening to everything, I realize this is a lot to

digest. But there is one thing I know for sure; I can’t fear the
voice anymore. The deep, throaty whisper won’t pull me
from my slumber. Now that I knew who was behind it, I
make a mental note to be a step ahead of Hades as well.
Now I know what he wants—me. I put on a brave face and
look at mom. “I’m sorry for snapping, mom.” I know mom
and Zeus had good intentions in doing what they did. But
they don’t need to protect me anymore because I will not
give Hades the satisfaction of pulling me under. To walk
amongst death and darkness. I will be fierce and brave. I
refuse to let him take me—I will not let him take me.

Yawning, a sudden wave of exhaustion washes over

me. My cat-nap during lunch wasn’t enough. I throw my
arms up and stretch. “I think I need a nap,” I tell her. She
stands as I lie back in my bed and cover myself with my
down comforter.

Mom walks to my door and glances over her shoulder.

“I’ll wake you up in an hour.”

“Why?”

“Today is still your birthday. I’ve invited a few people

over for a party.” I think about protesting, but after my
insane day, I’m emotionally and physically drained.

After mom closes the door, I roll over and stare at my

pastel green walls. My eyelids droop down, heavy. I am
relaxed and calm, nestled comfortably between my warm
blanket and fluffy pillows. An overwhelming sense of
security fills me up and I drift away into dreamland. A place
where anything and everything is possible.

Hades

Hades was convinced that Demeter wasn’t as smart

as she made herself out to be. He stood across the street
from her house, watching in amusement as she backed her
station-wagon out of her driveway.

He paused for a moment, staring at the tailpipe of the

old tin box, keeping his eyes on the smoke unfurling as the
car got father and farther away from the house.

After the car was at least a hundred feet away, and

turned a corner, Hades took that as an opportunity to visit
Persephone. But before he did that…

He had other plans.

He traveled from room to room, admiring the country-

home-like décor, but he had also turned every clock in the
house back five minutes. He had only had until midnight to
take his beloved and minutes were precious to someone
with a limited time frame. And he could thank Zeus for that
limited time frame. Just before Demeter and Persephone

left Greece Zeus had figured out a way to block his efforts.
He figured out a way to put up a shield of some sort that
gave Hades only until the stroke of midnight on
Persephone’s birthday to take her.

At first Hades was enraged by this. He figured without

that time shield he would have had Persephone centuries
ago, but now it was something he was used to. And he kept
telling himself that eventually, time shield or not, he would
finally have her. He’d finally have his queen.

Standing in the kitchen, Hades glared at the wooden

grandfather clock tucked in the far left corner of the room.

Who knows?

Hades thought. Maybe the extra five minutes

would come in handy, no—he knew the extra minutes would
come in handy.

After double-checking every clock in the house, Hades

strolled into Persephone’s bedroom. Gleaming metal
caught his eye from a watch on her nightstand. Hades
swiped the watch; he palmed it and set the time back on it
as well.

Afterwards, he crouched down next to Persephone’s

bed, listening to her soft breathing and watching her, deep
in her rem-cycle. He brushed his fingers against her soft
skin and sighed. He’d never thought another person could
such a powerful hold over him. Him—of all things living and
dead.

What puzzled him the most was that she had never

done anything to make him feel the way he did. He
remembered a spark flickering inside of him the first time
he ever saw her, but that was the extent of it. After that
moment he told himself he had to have her and hadn’t given
up on her since.

Rising to his feet, Hades closed his eyes. He needed

to see her, not like this, not deep in her slumber. He wanted
to see her in her element frolicking in a field filled with wild-
flowers. A field filled with sunlight and warmth and the smell
of the outdoors.

So while Persephone slept, he scooped her up and

whisked her away. Not physically, but mentally to a place
that he knew he could control—her dreams.

Persephone

I don’t know exactly how much time has passed, but I

feel like there’s a pendulum inside of me, swinging, back
and forth, back and forth. At any moment I’m going to
chime. Maybe even cuckoo. Bright sunlight grazes my
cheeks and warms me up like a kettle on a stove. My
eyelids flutter and I shield my face with my arm as light
shines into my eyes. The smell of grass and wildflowers
tickles my nostrils and I feel the urge to inhale deeply. I love
the way the enticing scent swirls around inside of me as I
suck it into my lungs.

Then I sit up as long grass sways next to me and gently

caresses my arms. I’m not in my bed. I’m not in my room. I
am back in my dream from lunch, in the field at Enna. And I
know I’ll see him again. I know I’ll see Hades.

Rising to my feet, I instinctively rush to a patch of

wildflowers with the need to pick a bouquet. As I bend over,
I feel him behind me, hovering. I feel him behind me,
watching. I hop and pivot around, slamming my bare feet
into the soft earth. “Reveal yourself!”

He doesn’t.

With my guard up I creep toward the edge of the field,

eyes centered on the weeping willow, the tree he stood
beneath the first time I saw him. “I know you’re here, Hades!
There’s no point in playing these silly games! Show
yourself!”

A gust of wind sweeps through my hair, blowing it into

my face and tossing the long grass in various directions,
but after the wind dissipates the entire field goes still. An
eerie silence boxes me in and all the hairs on my arms rise
up. Then I hear him hiss,

“Come to me.”

I drop the bouquet in my hands and shout, “Stop this

right now! I don’t like games!” Surveying the field, I center
on the edge of the field as a puff of black smoke unfurls.
The smoke expands and twists and contorts like choppy
waves on a windy day. It’s him, I know it. He’s trying to toy
with me. He’s a magician on stage performing his nightly
show for a packed auditorium.

Another rabbit out of the

hat? Is that what you want?

A smattering of applause

erupts from his audience and he turns his back to them,
reaching into a bottomless bag of tricks.

I start toward the black cloud. “I know what you’re

doing!” I yell. He’s messing with my head, trying to fake me
out and the black cloud of smoke is sucked into the air. It’s

out and the black cloud of smoke is sucked into the air. It’s
gone. Lost in an invisible vortex. I spin around. “Where are
you?”

His hand grazes my shoulder, a cold feeling circulates

through my veins, and then his warm breath gently caresses
my earlobe. “I am everywhere,” he whispers. His voice is
like the missing link, bottomless, empty, and full of mystery.

I spin around to face him, but there is no one behind

me. He’s evaporated like a puddle after spending hours
beneath the blazing sun. Or maybe he was never behind
me in the first place. “If you’re trying to get me to like you I
can promise you that toying with me isn’t going to work.”

Suddenly, his hot breath trails down my neck, bringing

on goose bumps. “Are you sure?” He sounds amused.

I am positive. I have never been good with the element

of surprise. “You will never have me,” I tell him. “It must be
exhausting to spend five thousand years chasing a person
you will never have.”

He laughs, musically. He’s a siren full of death and

destruction, pulling me closer and closer. I’m hypnotized by
his hypnotic hymn. I’m in a trance.

After his laughter dies down I snap out of my trance,

narrow my eyes and stalk to the opposite end of the field.
Then he materializes out of nowhere, only a few feet in front

Then he materializes out of nowhere, only a few feet in front
of me.

At first, my gaze is lowered and all I notice are the

black combat boots he’s wearing. I lift my head slowly. My
eyes are blanketed by black and muscle. He’s a statue.
Solid. Bold. I stare at his face; his pristine blue eyes
penetrate my gaze. There’s vagueness in his eyes, yet at
the same time coldness.

He may appear to be god-like and magnificent, but I

can see right through him. Pain ripples through his features
as he examines my face. Then he closes his eyes, exhales,
and clenches his jaw. When he opens his eyes there’s a
spark of anger in them. “I’ve been waiting for you for five-
thousand years. You will come to me.” There’s finality and
harshness is his deep, velvety voice. “Willing or not.”

“Ha!” I burst out. “That’s what you think.”

He steps closer, hovering above me. I pretend to be

brave and stand firm, my knees lock in place, a fierce look
in my eye, but inside every vital organ in my body is
vibrating and then my heart stops beating. My heart is a
convenient store. It’s closing time. Better lock up for the
night.

He cups the right side of my face and gently brushes

his thumb over my cheek bone. I expect his touch to be
filled with warmth, but it’s not, it’s cold, so cold that I feel the

filled with warmth, but it’s not, it’s cold, so cold that I feel the
capillaries in my face freezing over. He tilts his head to the
side and leans closer, inches away from my face. His blue
eyes sear into mine as he exhales. I taste his cool breath, a
mixture of mint and honey. “No,” he says hushed. Part of me
wants to move. The other part of me is screaming inside to
stay here and let him touch me in places I’ve never been
touched. Then I focus on his full, pink lips and I want him to
kiss me in places I’ve never been kissed. And there is also
a miniscule part of me that wants to kick him in the shin and
make a mad dash for the opposite side of the field. But for
some reason I can’t. He’s a warlock. His intense gaze has
me under a spell. I close my eyes as my heart races. My
organ pounds so loud I feel it throbbing in my ears. Hades
shifts and his lips are inches away from my ear. “It’s not
what I think. It’s what I know.” His voice is so low I can barely
hear him. I close my eyes, convincing myself that I could
listen to his voice for the rest of my life.

The wind picks up and a breeze trickles down my

flimsy shirt and I feel the sun as the heat sizzles on my skin.
I open my eyes, hoping to glimpse into his sea of blue eyes.
But he’s gone.

I close my eyes again and behind my eyelids I can see

a light flickering on and off, on and off. For a while I forgot I
was dreaming again and I know that mom said she was
going to wake me up in an hour. Opening my eyes, the
white ceiling blurs as I blink rapidly. Mom waltzes into my
room. “Get up,” she says gleefully. “Time to get ready.”

I sit up sluggishly. “Oh joy. I’m just so excited about my

party.” I hope she can sense the sarcasm in my voice.

She doesn’t.

“Wonderful!” She clasps her hands together. I toss the

covers off me and stand as mom thumbs through the outfits
in my closet. “You should hurry up and get ready,” she tells
me, strutting to the door. “People are already arriving.”

I groan. “What people?” I shouldn’t have asked. I know

when mom throws a party that usually means all of Mount
Olympus will be here.

Through the years, most of the God’s that dwelled on

Mount Olympus migrated to different parts of the world.
When you have forever to live out your life, there are so
many places to see and people to meet. If you liked
mingling with mortals, that is.

Unlike my father, a lot of the God’s looked down upon

the mortals. I agree that we’re in a completely different
class than them but, I’ve never looked down on them.
Speaking of my father. “Zeus isn’t coming, is he?”

“Of course not,” mom muses. “Hera is here with the

boys.”

I fall back on my bed and smother my face with a

pillow. I scream loudly several times and remove the pillow
to see mom with her hands on her hips, a stern look on her
face. “Persephone, was that necessary?”

“Was it necessary for you to invite Ares and

Hephaestus?”

“What’s wrong with you? You know I can’t invite Hera

and not invite her boys.”

I prop myself up on my elbows. “Are you forgetting

what happened at my last party because of them?”

At my last seventeenth birthday, mom threw me a

Hawaiian themed party and Ares ruined it. He always
wanted to fight or pick fights. Ares is moodier than a
teenage girl during that time of the month and it never takes
much to set him off. I don’t remember what led him and
Hephaestus to fight, but I do remember Ares tackling his
brother, knocking one of the tiki torches over, and setting
the whole table of food on fire.

Mom is standing in the doorway. “Hera promised me

they would behave this year.”

“Fine,” I grumble, getting to my feet.

Mom smiles. “Come down when you’re ready.”

I smile back, walking over to my closet as she makes

her exit.

I select a yellow flowered sundress. Then I make a

mental note, telling myself to push all of my thoughts
involving Hades to the side. Right now, I’m going to put on a
happy face and pretend like I’m enjoying this party.

Descending down the stairs, the lower portion of our

house is a flooded river of bodies. The chatter is so loud is
makes the walls vibrate. Mom invited so many people that
the guests can barely move. I watch Iris as the ivory skin
around her violet eyes crinkles. She’s wedged in between
Apollo and Poseidon, trying to squeeze through them to get
to the food table on the opposite side of the room.

Strips of purple crepe paper hang down from the

wooden beams on the ceiling and tiny twinkling lights flash,
bordering the walls. A massive banner is plastered above
the fireplace that reads; Happy Birthday, Persephone.” On
the last step, I search the faces in the crowd for mom. Then
all of sudden, I stumble back, catching myself by gripping
the solid oak rails as Dionysius’s bulging belly rams into my
hip. “Whoa!” I straighten myself out, catching my balance.

He turns to face me, a wide smile on his lips and a

twinkle in his brown eyes. “Oh, Persephoonnee!” he slurs.
Dionysius wobbles closer and breathes heavily. His breath

smells musty and sweet, like fermented grapes. He’s drunk.
He raises his right hand, clutching a half-empty green bottle
of wine. “Care for a drink, birrrthday girrrl,” he mumbles.

“No thanks,” I say politely. I’ve never been much of a

drinker.

He brings the bottle to his lips. “Great. More for me.”

As I weave through the crowd I glimpse at him over my

shoulder as he’s stumbles, falling face first into the floor.
He’s out cold. A wave of relief flushes through me.
Dionysius is overly obnoxious when he’s drunk and I’m
pretty sure everyone at this party will be thrilled to learn he’s
cashed in early.

Several people wish me a “Happy Birthday” as I

continue pushing through the crowd. I assume mom will be
in the kitchen, so I head in that direction, but I stop when I
feel someone tug on my arm. I try to turn, but I’m smooshed
in between Artemis and Hestia. They are both engaged in
deep discussions and despite me pushing on them they
barely move. I feel like a hamburger patty, smashed
between two buns.

Ketchup, cheese and pickles, anyone?

I’m jolted forward, yanked out of my Persephone

sandwich and a pair of steel grey eyes rest on me.
“Athena!” I squeal and throw myself into her open arms.

“Happy birthday!” she shouts over the noise. Her

golden hair is slicked back into a ponytail and she beams
as she stands up straight.

“Where have you been?” I lean in close to her,

shouting, “It’s been ages!”

“You know, lending my wisdom to those who need it!”

I stifle a glance around the room. “Does mom know

you’re here?”

“Yeah! I saw her when I first arrived. I think she’s with

Hera in the kitchen. I thought it would be best if I kept my
distance!”

Eros shoves his way through the crowd. His pouch of

arrows, resting against his back, nudges me and sends me
forward. Athena catches me by the shoulders and steadies
me as someone turns on the stereo. Music pumps through
the room and the mingling turns into a mosh-pit as some of
the guests begin dancing. I put my lips close to Athena’s
ear. “Is she in one of her moods?”

Athena leans close to my ear. “Who, Hera?”

I back away and nod.

Athena looks at me earnestly. “When isn’t she?”

“True,” I agree. I’ve known Hera my whole life and she

was always mad or complaining about something.

Athena turns her attention to the guests. “I’m gonna go

flirt with Apollo,” she tells me. “I’ll catch ya later.”

“Later.”

As make my way to the kitchen, I hear Athena shout,

“Hey Apollo! Looking good!”

Mom and Hera stand in front of the kitchen door. Mom

says something to Hera and Hera laughs. I approach them
and Hera narrows her eyes and tucks a piece of her fiery
hair behind her ear. “Would you look at Aphrodite?” she
harrumphs. “That Goddess has no shame!”

Glancing over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of

Aphrodite, who is wearing next to nothing. A denim skirt
that cuts off right below her butt cheeks and a top that
shows her midriff. She’s enclosed by a circle of admirers
and I hear her infectious, flirtatious laugh. She playfully
slaps the shoulder of one of the men. I’m assuming he just
said something funny.

Mom laughs at Hera’s comment. “Hera, one day I

swear your jealousy will eat you alive.”

“I am not jealous,” Hera snaps. Of course she’d never

admit it. “I have morals.”

I roll my eyes, looking away, and mutter, “Right.”

“I have a surprise for you,” mom pipes up.

“A surprise? What kind of surprise?”

Mom beams. “I invited Charis and Chloe.”

“Really?” I stare into the crowd of party guests. “Where

are they?”

“Where else would they be? They’re outside.”

Charis and Chloe are twins, a pair of identical wood

nymphs. Back in ancient Greece they were my best friends.
They were immortal like me, and centuries ago they left
Greece too.

“Ugh. Wood nymph’s,” Hera scoffs.

For a second, I think about giving Hera a piece of my

mind. Isn’t there anybody that she likes? Isn’t there anybody
that she doesn’t look down upon? She thinks that because
she’s married to Zeus, she can treat people how she wants
to, with disrespect. Maybe that was okay five thousand
years ago, but this is the 21st century. Times have

changed. Instead, I remain tight-lipped, dashing through the
sliding back door.

Persephone

“Charis! Chloe!” I shout, hopping down the cement

steps of the back porch. “I know you guys are out here!”
Cautiously, I march toward the edge of the forest that
encircles our house, eyes darting across a sea of
evergreen and brown. I stop, squinting, trying to get a
clearer view of the carved out muddy path, fenced in by the
trees the size of skyscrapers.

Two heads covered in a mass of thick black curls

emerge from the trees, excitement sparkling in their
chocolate brown eyes as they sprint toward me.
“Persephone!” They squeal in unison.

I open my arms and the twins’ crash into me, hard, so

hard that I stumble backwards and almost tumble to the
ground. “Whoa! Easy!” Regaining my balance I begin to
back away and Chloe pulls away first, followed by Charis.

Charis steps to her left, her olive skin shimmering like

droplets of molten gold in the sunlight. A stranger would

never be able to tell which twin was which. Through the
years Charis and Chloe had always thought it was comical
to play the switcheroo game with people they didn’t know.
But they’ve never been able to fool me.

Chloe has a nervous tick. Whenever she feels uneasy

or worried, she rolls her thumbs and Charis has a small
speckle of a beauty-mark just below her right eye. Chloe
has one too, but Charis’s is just a little bit bigger.

“The last time we saw you was—,” Charis reminisces.

“Two hundred years ago,” I say finishing her sentence.

“It’s so good to see you,” Chloe pipes up. “We’ve

missed you.”

“I missed you guys too.”

The last time I saw the twins we were living in London.

Well, I was living in London. They lived in some cottage, set
deep in the English Countryside. Wood Nymphs could
never live in the city. They belonged outdoors, amongst
rolling green hills, trees, and wildflowers galore. I’d also
longed for that life. I’d longed to suck in fresh, clean air in
place of smog and smoke. I’d longed to pick wildflowers all
day without a care in the world, instead of being cooped in
a London flat. I’d longed to lie in the long grass on one of
those rolling green hills, feeling a brush as a gentle breeze

swept through the field and the grass tickled my skin.

I hated the fact that mom kept me hidden away from

the beauty of the earth. The same earth that she’d taught
me to love and appreciate. I stare off, trance-like caught up
in my past memories. Chairs and Chloe’s feet rustle
against the grass, but I’m not paying attention. Then I lift my
head slowly, and the most beautiful flower catches my eye.
“What is that?”

Sunlight peaks through the trees and at the edge of my

yard, and the flower glimmers a glowing white with pink
splotches slathered along the inside of it. I know every
flower that grows on every continent. I can name every plant
and I know their purposes. But this flower…

I’ve never seen and flower like it, and I don’t know

what it is.

Lurching forward, mesmerized, Charis and Chloe’s

footsteps pound behind me, but I don’t pay attention.

“What are you looking at?” Chloe inquires.

I lift a finger, placing it against my lips, silencing Chloe

with the gesture and stop at the edge of the left corner of
my yard. The flower grows beneath a massive redwood
tree. The white and pink speckled petals are magnetic, they
draw me closer. They are the metal and I am the magnet.

Charis throws herself in front of me and her

forcefulness startles me. I jump backwards, panting. “What
are you doing?”

Charis glances between me and the flower. “What are

you doing?” she asks, shooting me a glare, eyes filled with
accusation.

“What am I doing? I’m going to pick that flower, that’s

what I’m doing.”

“Why would you want to pick that thing?” Charis

glances over her shoulder and wrinkles her nose, then
looks at me. “It’s just a stupid flower.”

I can’t even fathom the fact that she’s not blown away

by the beauty of it. The single, solitary flower, resting only
feet in front of me is the most breathtakingly beautiful flower
I’ve ever seen. Balling my hands into fists I place them on
my hips. “If it’s just a stupid flower I don’t know why you’re
standing in front of me trying to keep me from picking it,” I
retort.

Either one of two things is going on; either Charis

knows more about this flower than she’s letting on, or she’s
just trying to be difficult. I know the way the twins feel about
nature and its balance. They preferred that mortals and
Gods alike just left things be. Back in Greece, I recalled

how upset they used to get when workers would chop down
trees to build ships. I’d spent hours consoling them after
one of those occasions.

“It’s not just any flower,” Chloe adds.

I glare at Chloe. “What do you mean it’s not just any

flower? What is it called?”

“Shhhh!” Charis snaps.

I lurch forward, closer, narrowing my eyes suspiciously.

“What is going on?” They are definitely keeping something
from me and I intend to find out what that something is.
“Never mind,” I snap. “I don’t need to know what it’s called.”
All I know is that it would look lovely in a vase on my
nightstand.

Charis points over her shoulder. “Don’t you think it’s

odd that they’re no other flowers growing around it?”

Craning my head over her shoulder, I shrug. “No. Not

all flowers grow in patches or together.”

“Okay,” says Charis. “Don’t you find it odd that you

don’t know what kind of flower it is?”

I’m stumped by that one. Yes, I do think it’s a little

strange that I’ve never seen the flower before, but every

time I look catch a glimpse of it, I can’t help but feel the
overwhelming urge to pick it. I throw my hands up into the
air in fake frustration. “Fine,” I grumble, pretending to give
up. “I’ll just go find some other flowers to pick.”

I head to the opposite side of the yard, stopping half-

way when I realize the twins aren’t following me. Twisting
around partly, I slant my eyes at them. “What is with you
two? I said I’m going to pick some more flowers. Don’t you
want to join me?”

The twins exchange awkward glances, but still don’t

move.

Annoyed, I turn all the way around. Chloe stares at me

and starts rolling her thumbs. “We know you,” she says
uneasily. “At times, you’re a bit stubborn.”

Charis chimes in, “I think what Chloe is trying to say is;

we know that you always try to get what you want. You’ve
never, in all the years we’ve known you, have given up so
easily on something you want. And right now, I know you
want to pick this flower. And you can’t pick it. We won’t let
you.”

Her statement makes my mind churn like homemade

butter. I think back to a time during my childhood in Ancient
Greece. Mom had taken to me to a field and was teaching
me about various types of plants and what their purposes

were. We came across a poisonous type of plant growing
in the brush just along the edge of the forest. Its leaves were
green with bright red splotches in the center and thorns
sharpened to a point lined its’ muted green stem.

“Don’t touch that,” mom had warned me. “The toxins in

that plant will hurt you.”

But me, being the forever curious child that I was, well, I

touched it anyway. I should have listened to mom. I pricked
my finger on one of the thorns, drawing blood and an
intense warmth surged through me as a fever overtook me.
Not long after that I was trembling from the chills.

Mom shook her head, disappointed while I stood there

crying my eyes out. “I told you,” she’d said, scolding me
before she carried me up to Mount Olympus and nursed me
back to health.

My mouth drops open and my eyes widen. Mostly, I’m

in shock, surprised by how right on Charis is. I guess being
a Goddess and an only child sometimes allows me to act
like I’m entitled to certain things. “Do you honestly think I’d
fight you for it?”

Charis’s eyes harden. “Yes. I do.”

“Fine.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Would you two

just forget about it and come with me so I can find some

other flowers to pick.” I start walking. “Or I can just go by
myself.”

The twins still don’t move and I’ve had enough.

I jog over to Charis planting my feet firmly into the

ground in front of her. “Alright. Somebody better tell me
what’s going on. What has got you two so worried?”

Chloe looks at Charis then at me. She points to the

flower. “That flower shouldn’t be growing here.”

I’m confused and baffled and I find it comical that these

two are educating me on this flower when I should be the
one educating them. “Why? Flowers grow in places like this
all the time.” Charis and Chloe exchange another glance. I
sigh, frustrated. This whole little game is getting exhausting.
Why all the wary looks and hidden innuendos? “Someone
please tell me!”

“That flower doesn’t grow on earth,” Chloe says quietly.

“What do you mean it doesn’t grow on earth?” I make a

hand-gesture toward the flower. “It looks like it’s growing to
me.”

“What my sister means is that flower should not be

growing on earth,” Charis adds.

I frown and tap my foot. “Well, who planted it there

then?”

Charis shrugs. “I don’t know.”

At the moment, I decide that I’m taking this matter into

my own hands. Marching ahead, I shove Charis out of the
way. There is only one way to find out what is so damn
special about this flower. I’ll just pick it and find out.

But Charis doesn’t let me get that far. Seconds after

I’ve shoved her out of the way, she’s on her feet, rushing
toward me. She barrels into my side and knocks me to the
ground. I squirm beneath her, loosening my arm and I punch
her in the side. She winces, clutching her ribcage and falls
on the ground next to me. On my knees, I crawl toward the
flower and once I finally reach it, I place my thumb and
forefinger on the stem. I start pulling and then Chloe
shrieks, “Stop! Picking that flower is a bad omen!”

I sit back, my fingers still on the stem. “What do you

mean a bad omen? Don’t you think I’d know if picking the
flower was a bad omen?”

“No,” says Chloe. “Like Charis said earlier, you don’t

what kind of flower it is.”

“Just don’t pick it,” Charis grumbles, still clutching her

side, struggling to sit up.

I start pulling on the flower again as looks of panic

sweep across the twins’ child-like faces. “If one of you
doesn’t give me a clear answer in ten seconds I’m going to
pick this flower.”

Charis grunts and exhales, finally on her feet. “No.

You’re going to take your fingers off the stem first or we’re
not telling you anything.”

I sneer between her and Chloe. “How do I know you’re

not trying to trick me? How do I know that once I remove my
fingers that both of you won’t play the “let’s not tell
Persephone” game?”

Charis grits her teeth and blanches painfully. “I swear

on my sister’s life.”

“Charis!” Chloe squeals with a hurt look on and her

face.

I’m an only child, but I imagine swearing on your

sibling’s life is a very serious thing. Especially after seeing
Chloe’s reaction. I scoot back the slightest bit and remove
my fingers from the stem. “Explain,” I demand as I place my
hands on my waist.

“You can’t pick that flower because it doesn’t come

from this world. It comes from the world beneath us,” Charis

says.

“What?”

Chloe steps forward. “That flower only grows in the

Underworld. It’s an asphodel.”

Then Charis adds, “The flower of the dead.”

Hades

Hades stood at the end of the field watching the

Persephone and the twin wood nymphs argue over the
flower he planted at the edge of the field.

“Pick the flower,”

he said in a hushed voice.

“Pick the flower.”

Still, Persephone did not pick it. Those damn twins

stopped her.

Hades planted the asphodel in the yard, knowing that it

was the most beautiful flower in the world. Well, not in this
world, his world, the underworld. He also knew that
Persephone was the daughter of Demeter, the Goddess of
the Harvest and she would have been taught to appreciate
the beauty of plant-life and she’d also appreciate the
unique beauty of a flower like the asphodel.

For a moment, he thought she was going to pick it. For

a moment her dainty fingers rested on the stem and she
was seconds away from plucking it from the earth. Until the
twins intervened and told her what it was. The identical pair

with the crowns of raven curls were ruining everything. They
knew when they saw it that something was off about an
asphodel growing above ground. Perhaps they even
sensed that something would happen afterwards.

Hades knew what would happen to her too. Once she

picked that flower, the earth beneath her would crumble.
She would lose her balance, and therefore tumble from the
land of the living into the land of the dead. She would be the
Queen of the Dead and Hades would not give her back.
However, this was going to be easier said than done.
Hades knew Zeus, and he knew Demeter. Zeus would be
outraged at the fact that after all this time, Hades was able
to find a way around the sensitive time shield. Demeter
would be distraught at losing her child whom to which she
was extremely attached to. Hades didn’t care about them
though, he knew what he wanted and he was selfish.

He snapped to attention when Persephone and the

twins left the yard, wandering into the house. Seconds later,
Demeter rushed out the back doors, hands on hips, a fierce
gleam in her eye. She’d remove the flower, Hades was
certain of it, but he did have some time left. A few hours to
be exact. And that was just enough time to come up with
another plan. Something that would ensure that during this
seventeen year span he wouldn’t end up empty handed.

The white petals of the asphodel blurred in his vision

and Hades knew exactly what he was going to do. But

before executing his plan, Hades glanced at the patio
where Persephone now stood, lost in a trance, eyes
centered on the flower.

This is my year,

Hades thought.

Then, with a twist of his invisibility cloak, he blew the

Goddess a kiss and returned to the underworld to await her
arrival.

Persephone

After my party ended and every guest had left, I sit on

the back porch staring up at the moon, consumed with
anger. I’m mad at myself for being so impressionable. I
should have known better. I should have known that Hades
was behind planting that flower. Shortly after the twins told
me what kind of flower it was I had a moment where I could
practically feel death’s icy grasp on the back of my neck. I’d
almost picked the flower. I would have picked the flower. I
owed the twins big for stopping me.

There were several moments where I felt enchanted.

Like I was under a spell. Thinking about it, I wouldn’t have
put it past Hades to trick me or use some kind of magic to
pull me under. He definitely could have placed some sort of
enchantment over the flower that drew me to it.

The sound of crinkling plastic yanks me from my

thoughts. I glance to my left and notice Adonis in his back
yard, putting a black trash bag into a tin garbage can.
Moonlight shimmers down and graces the tips of his

chestnut hair and certain strands of it look silver. A fuzzy
feeling buzzes in my stomach and I don’t even realize I’m
gawking. His tan skin glitters like he’s covered in amber
gemstones. And he’s wearing a cut-off shirt that reveals the
toned muscles in his arms.

Adonis places the lid on the garbage can and the tin

lid clunks against the tin can, echoing in the night air. I
swallow hard, nervous, thinking that it’s funny that I’m so
captivated by watching Adonis do silly household chores.
Watching him take out the trash is like watching a swan as
it glides gracefully across a calm body of water. I wonder
how I’d react if I saw him washing dishes or running the
vacuum.

“Hey! You!” Blinking, I snap out of my trance when I see

him staring back at me. He jogs toward me and reminds of
Trojan soldier, charging forward into battle. I drop my gaze.
Heat flushes my cheeks and pretty soon my whole face
tingles. I hope he didn’t catch me staring at him. And if he
did, I hope doesn’t mention it. I don’t how I’ll react if he
does.

“Hi.” The words exit my throat so softly I can barely

hear them. I clear my throat. “Hi,” I repeat, louder.

Adonis plops down next to me. His perfect white smile

gleams in the moonlight. “How was the party, birthday girl?”

How did he know about my party? I don’t remember

mentioning anything about a party to him. Maybe he had
noticed all the cars in our driveway and made the
assumption.

“Good.” One word answers are the only words I can

muster up at this point. And my eyes keep trailing down
from his face to his loose cut-off, just below his arms. There
is an opening and I try to fight off the urge from staring at his
muscled abs, but it doesn’t work. I feel like I’m burning them
with my eyes. And either Adonis doesn’t notice or he’s
pretending not to.

He lifts his head, looking up into the sky. Flecks of

brightness flicker in his ocher irises. “There are lots of stars
out tonight,” he muses. “They’re beautiful aren’t they?”

“Yeah.” The only problem is that I’m not looking at the

stars, I’m looking at him. Sometimes with Adonis, I think
that the word beautiful might be an understatement. No.
More than sometimes.

He lowers his head and I meet his gaze. He stands

and I’m saddened by the fact that he’s already planning to
leave. “Well—I.” He freezes as the sliding glass door opens
and mom waltzes out onto the porch. His eyes flick toward
her. “Hi Mrs. Jones,” he says politely.

We’ve had many last names through the centuries and

“Jones” is our most recent adoptive surname. Mom always
says, “Nobody is more normal that the Joneses.”

“Hello, Adonis.” Mom waits a moment, staring at him

intensely and I can tell by the look on her face she wants
him to go home.

Adonis smiles at me and I return his smile, my insides

fluttering. I have a stomach full of butterflies. “See you
tomorrow Persephone.”

“See you tomorrow.” Then he jogs toward his house,

disappearing into the shadows.

Mom sits down in the same spot he was sitting in, her

emerald eyes immediately reverting to the moon. “Selene
has been busy.”

I center on the night lantern being held up by miles of

endless black. “She definitely has.” There were so many
Gods and Goddesses that sometimes I forgot about some.
I’ve been away from that world for so long that I forget I’m a
part of it most of the time.

Mom interrupts the moment of ambiance. “I don’t like

the way you look at that boy.”

“Adonis?” My voice hikes.

“Yes,” mom says seriously. “Remember we can’t get

close to the mortals. You know what will happen if they
catch on.”

I huff and shift in my seat. “Yes,” I say in a snarky tone.

“That means you’ll uproot me to another continent. Or who
knows maybe finally there will be life on Mars. Then maybe
you’ll move me to another planet.”

“I know you hate moving and we’ve gone over this. We

don’t age. Mortals do. Adonis will get old. Eventually, he will
die. Imagine how painful it will be for you to watch him age
and wither away and you’ll still be young and youthful.”

“I wish you’d let me decide that for myself,” I snap.

“Maybe one day I will.” Mom rises from her seat and

walks to the edge of the back porch. She picks up
something from the ground and stalks through the yard.
“What do you have in your hand?” I try to catch a glimpse of
what she’s holding, but she keeps the object in her hand
low—hidden from my sight. Following her, I try to keep up
as she walks ahead to the redwood at the end of our yard.
“Mom, what are you doing?”

She lifts her right hand, snapping a pair of hedge

clippers. “The twins told me about the asphodel. I’m cutting
it down.”

Those little snitches. “Did you have them spy on me?”

Mom stops and puts her left hand on her hip. “No not

spying. You make it sound so deceitful. I just made sure
they kept you safe. Hades only has until midnight to take
you and I wanted to be sure that neither he nor Charon
made a special appearance at your party.”

“Charon, the captain of the ferry from the Catalina

Island thing?”

“Yes. Charon is Hades’ minion. He’s the ferryman for

the dead. Only he can ferry a person across the Styx from
the land of the living to the land of the dead. Hades is his
master and does whatever Hades tells him to do.”

Mom starts walking again and I keep up with her stride

for stride. “Don’t you think that I too will be on watch now. I
won’t let him take me, mom.”

“He’s too crafty, Persephone and you are way too

naïve. You don’t even know why he sent you the
pomegranates.”

“Because you never told me,” I harrumph.

“You can’t eat in the realm of the dead or consume any

food from it. If you do, you will be bound to that realm for
part if not all of your eternal life.”

Red blurs in my vision like droplets of crimson oozing

from a cut. In front of the tree grows a single red rose. The
asphodel is nowhere in sight. I gawk at the fully bloomed
flower, puzzled and scan the entire surrounding area. “I
don’t understand. The asphodel was here a few hours ago.
I don’t see it anywhere.”

I reach toward the flower and mom slaps my hand

away. “Uh uh. Don’t you pick that.”

“But it’s just a rose.”

“You know Hades is the master of deception. He only

has until one minute before midnight to take you.” Mom
bends down, palming the hedge clippers.

I glance down at my watch as a loud snap fills my ears.

“It is after midnight,” I say. “It’s one minute after midnight to
be exact.” Mom stands gripping the rose and brings it to
her nose. She inhales deeply and I watch intensely as her
face lights up, the enticingly floral scent creeping into her
lungs.

I snatch the rose from her. “Give me that.” I bring it my

own nose desperate for its smell. A smell that reminds me
of the spring and blazing summer sun. A smell that reminds
me of the essence of life and beauty.

The lively scent of fresh air and flowers travels down

my esophagus, blossoming inside of me. I swear that I’m a
budding flower. My petals are unfurling. At any second I will
fully bloom. But then, the rose starts glowing. A bright white
light beams from the stem and it magically begins to
transform. Before I realize what’s happening I stare at the
flower in my hand. I’m not holding a rose anymore. I’m
holding an asphodel.

Mom panics and immediately tries to snatch the flower

from my grasp, but it’s too late. Within seconds of its
transformation the asphodel has become speckles of
small, glittering dust and it blows away in the wind.

Nothing happens.

Mom exhales and relief washes over her features. “Oh

right,” she gasps. “It’s after midnight.” She pulls me to her
chest and places a kiss on the top of my forehead. “Thank
the God’s.” I step away from the embrace and mom tilts her
head motioning to the house. “Come on. It’s late and you
have school today.”

“Are you really going to make me go to school?” I

shout as she turns her back to me. “After everything that’s
happened!”

Mom strolls to the back door. “You long for normalcy.

I’m treating you the way a normal parent would treat their

child.”

“Ugh,” I scoff, taking a step forward, but as I try to lift my

other foot something happens. The roots from the redwood
tree shoot up out of the ground, twisting and contorting like
serpent. “Mom!” I shriek. “I don’t know what’s happening!”

Mom’s spins around, her face drenched in fear, and

sprints toward me. “No! No!” she screams.

I hurl my body forward, but drop my eyes when I notice

a small, sliver of a crack in the earth. “Mom! Hurry!” My
lungs clench and I’m holding my breath. The crack widens
and soon clumps of the earth begin to fall into a deep black
pit. Mom finally reaches me, but now the crack is so wide
all she can do is extend her hand. She can’t jump across. I
reach for her. My fingers curl, needy and desperate.

“Just grab my hand!” she cries. She’s terrified and

tears spill onto her cheeks. I extend my arm as far as I can
and feel a surge of warmth as her fingertips brush against
mine. Stretching the tips, I grapple with her hand, trying to
get a firmer grasp, but it’s no use. The roots of the redwood
release my feet and the ground beneath me gives way.

“Persephone!” mom shrieks.

“Mooooom!”

Then I’m falling. Falling into a pit of the unknown.

Shrouded by a blanket of black nothingness. Passing out
as the darkness eats me up and swallows me.

Persephone

I wake up and every bone, muscle, and organ in my

body aches. Sucking in a deep breath, I cry out as intense
pain stabs at my lungs. Maybe I’m going to fall apart.
Maybe my limbs will start dropping, one-by-one, landing in
an odd arrangement on the ground. I hug myself tightly. I’m
convinced I can be a bandage. I can hold myself together,
but as the pain stabs deeper and intensifies I know that’s
not true. I don’t have immunity from pain or injuries. I only
have immunity when it comes to death. And right now, I’m
certain I’d rather die than go through any more pain like
this.

I try to stand, but as I put weight on my right ankle it

buckles and I hit my knees. My hands slide through
moisture and grime while I continue using them for
leverage. Using the wall as my anchor, I get to my feet,
staring up as a sliver of moonlight peaks through a tiny
crack in the earth. I’m frightened and desperate and I tell
myself that maybe if I can climb the wall, no matter how long

it takes me, maybe then I can climb out of this concrete
tomb and go back to earth. But the second I start climbing,
the crack slowly begins to close and soon I’m wrapped up
in a black comforter. And I’m stuck on the slippery cement
wall.

The darkness blinds me. I can’t go up and I can’t go

down. I’m stuck in limbo and my fingers are sliding in muck
and I’m losing my footing. My heel catches in a divot and a
burning pain blossoms in my ankle and travels up my thigh.
Crying out, I lose my footing and plummet from the wall,
hitting the ground with a thud.

All the bones in my spine crack as I sit up. The silence

seeps into my pores and infiltrates my blood stream. Pretty
soon it travels through my veins to my cranium and I’m
certain my mind is playing tricks on me. A loud snap rings
out and I jump. “Is someone there?” I grip the slippery wall
and pull myself up. My fingers slide, but I feel around and
rest my elbow in a protruding cranny of cement. Putting
pressure on my right ankle, I try to walk forward, but I can’t.
I’ve sprained my ankle.

Wobbling ahead, half-limping, half-hopping, I remain

against the wall with only the ability to feel my way around
the room. Part of me wants to give up. I’m weak, in pain,
and frightened. I feel like a toddler whose just been scolded
by her parent. Every part of me wants to curl up into a ball
and cry. But I don’t. And I can’t. I need to find a way out of

here. I have to find a way out of here.

By the time I’ve made it half-way around the room; I

realize that the room is circular. Maybe I’m in an old well or
something. There’s a musty smell similar to mold and
mildew and I find it odd that the walls are coated in sludge.
The wall is my road map. I hate not having any sight? What
if there is something lurking in the darkness? What if they’re
waiting for their moment to jump out and attack me? How
am I supposed to fight back if I can’t see what’s coming?

Sliding to the left, I glide my hand forward feeling

ahead. The wall dips off and I brush my fingertips against
something cold and metal. The coldness shocks me,
electrocutes me, and kicks my heartbeat into overdrive. A
doorknob! I’ve found a doorknob! Hopping forward, I twist
the door knob and walk into a dimly lit corridor.

The floor is made of black marble. I’m afraid to step

onto it. Too many things about this place don’t seem right. I
feel like I’m exploring the interior of an optical illusion. What
will happen when I step on the floor? What if it’s quicksand?
I’ll be suctioned, yanked under by an unknown force. Or
what if it turns into a sea of hot tar? Then as the black sticky
substance splashes against my peachy pallor it will melt
away my flesh.

I heal a lot faster than mortals do. I know I’ll heal

completely from the injuries I’ve sustained in about eight

hours, but it still sucks that I have to suffer through the pain
until then. Crouching down, I press the tip of my finger into
the marble. Then I press harder. The floor is firm, so I warily
take a step forward. Then I hop. No illusion. The black
marble floor is just a black marble floor.

Limping down the long corridor, I marvel at the

elaborate cast iron candelabra’s lining the deep crimson
walls. Tiny crystals dangle from the molten iron and create
an afterglow along the walls. I glance to my left, then to my
right. There are no doors lining the hall and straight ahead it
seems like the hall stretches on miles. I limp faster. I don’t
know if I’ll make it. No. I shake my head as a reassuring
feeling washes over me, cleansing me of any doubts I might
have had. This is a hallway and no matter how long it is it
has to lead me somewhere, right?

After limping for what feels like decades, I come to a

dead end. Every shred of hope I have seeps out of me like
perspiration oozing from my pores after spending hours in
the sun. I’m a human sweat box. Dehydrated and drenched
and sadness sits in the pit of my stomach eating all of my
other emotions. All hope is lost.

I lift my head and a gold cord of a rope with fringe

adoring the edges blurs in my eyes. Inching my fingers
closer, I contemplate pulling it. Should I, or shouldn’t I? I
clench my fist right below it as the fringe brushes against
my knuckles. Determination pumps through me like oil

being injected into the engine of a car. Suddenly, I don’t
what will happen. I tell myself I need to stop being afraid. I
tell myself that yes, something is going to happen when I
yank on this rope, but if it’s going to get me out of this maze
of a hallway then so be it.

Yanking on the rope, I pull with so much force I feel like

I’m going to rip it down from the ceiling. After I release it, I
wait. One second. Ten seconds. Before I realize it a minute
has passed and nothing has happened. Hobbling around, I
place my back against the wall and let out a frustrated sigh.
Hanging my head low, puddles of tears swell up and drop
on to the black abyss of a floor. Then I perk up when I hear
a clicking sound. It starts slow, separated by a ten second
time span and suddenly the clicking picks up. Whirling.
Grinding. Like someone is sharpening a pencil. And just as
I perk up and back away from the wall, the floor beneath me
gives way, crumbling to bits and miraculously repairing
itself. And I’m falling again.

I land on my back and choke on a strangled breath as

the abrupt force from the fall knocks the wind out of me.
There’s a hand inside my body squeezing the air from my
lungs. Tighter and tighter, the hand clenches. Someone is
squeezing the life out of me. Rolling over on to my side, I
wheeze and cough out. Breathe, just breathe. At this point
tiny white and red dots flash before my eyes and I feel like
I’m going to pass out. After blinking several times, my eyes
are filled with black and I place my forehead against the

cool marble floor. The icy tile feels slick and smooth and its
freezing temperature brings goose bumps to my flesh.
Thoughts gnaw at the nerve endings of my brain like I’ve
just ingested anthrax. I want to know where I am, but I can’t
muster up the strength to pick myself up from the floor.

A minute passes. Then five. Next ten. There’s only a

sliver of me that wants to move. I want to lie here forever
against the cold tile. I want it to thrill me and chill to the bone
over and over again. There’s something refreshing about
its coldness. I’m twisted. I’m a contortionist. My limbs are
like wiry tree branches. Frozen forever in a particular way
and sticking out at odd angles, but I don’t care. As
uncomfortable as my position is, I hope I stay this way
forever.

I wait for another twenty minutes then slowly pick

myself up off the floor, mouth gaping open as I take in my
surroundings. High vaulted ceilings loom above me made
out of a smooth molted kind of black rock. Lowering my
gaze, I center on the thick cherry-stained table, complete
with twelve chairs. Five on each side. Two on the ends. A
six tiered crystal chandelier hung down in the center and
each crystal has to be at least six inches long. I’m in a
palace and I haven’t seen a palace this decadent in
thousands of years. Olympus was like this, except we didn’t
have some of the modern luxuries that people have today.
I’m so absorbed in the creepy, yet beautiful setting, that I
jump when I hear a whoosh from behind me. I spin around

to a blazing fire, encased by a black, red, and grey marble
fireplace. Who lit the fire? It wasn’t lit when I fell into this
room.

Limping, I stand in front of the fireplace and hold my

hands out, warming them. The bright orange fire crackles
and hisses and one of the flames nearly licks my hand. I
take a step back, but can still feel the heat caressing my
palms. Then I hear soft footsteps and my entire body
stiffens. A shadow is cast over the fire dancing along with
the flames. Hades is behind me. I am sure of it. Despite all
of my injuries, I’m filled with so much anger that I feel like a
torpedo, jetting through the cold ocean in search of a vessel
to crash into. A vessel to blow to smithereens.

Whipping around I lunge at him, tackling him and we

both hit the hard marble floor—hard. I slide away from him
and use the corner of the fireplace to hoist myself up. “You!”
I shout as hatred and rage jumble together rippling through
me. He’s wearing a stunned look as he picks himself up.
“Do you know what you’ve done?”

“Of course I know what I’ve done,” he states. He’s all

thrills and chills, not an ounce of warmth to his tone.

“Well, you’d better undo it!” I limp toward him, as pain

surges through my ankle, up my shin, and throbs at my knee
cap. I wince and look away, swallowing hard. Then I put on
a fierce brave face and narrow my eyes. “My mom is

probably worried sick!”

Hades tilts his head to the side and centers his gaze

on my ankle. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“What business is that of yours?” I harrumph.

He starts for me and I back away. “Stop moving,” he

commands. He takes another step forward and I take
another step back. Hades exhales, frustrated. “We can do
this the easy way or we can do it the hard way. Now stay
put!”

I won’t listen to him. He just tricked me. He stole me

from my home. He’s a thief. And mom always taught me to
never trust a thief, so when he moves again so do I. Then I
smile triumphantly, but that smile fades when he vanishes
from in front of me and appears behind me. I try to step
away, but he latches onto my elbow and grips it hard. I swat
at him. “Let me go!”

But he doesn’t. He tightens his grip and crouches

down wrapping his long slender fingers around my ankle. I
struggle then stop as an overwhelming warmth floods
through my limbs and makes my skin tingle. “What are you
doing?”

Hades straightens up and backs away. “Try walking on

it.”

I move away. My limp is gone. The ache in my ribs is

gone. I feel rejuvenated. Brand new. Like an unwrapped toy
underneath a Christmas tree. Rolling my ankle I stare at the
appendage, baffled. “How did you do that?”

“I am the God of the Dead. I have the power to do a lot

of things.”

For a second I forget that I’m angry with him. He’s

observing me yet at the same time looking at me in an
entitled way. Like he owns me. I’m not a pet. I’m a person
and I have free will. He does not and never will own me.
Circling him, I narrow my eyes. “You might think I don’t know
anything, but I know all about you, Hades.”

An amused expression crosses over his features and

he places his forefinger and thumb on his chin. “Is that so?
Why don’t you enlighten me then? Tell me what you think
you know, Persephone.”

I decide that being vague is my best option. “All I need

to know.” I stop walking around him and face him. “Now you
take me back to earth, right now.”

“I don’t like that idea,” he replies. “Besides, it’s not that

simple.”

“Sure it is. You took me, now take me back. See, it’s

simple.”

He glares at me like I’m an escapee from an insane

asylum. He lowers his gaze searching the floor for my
discarded straight jacket. “You can stand there making
demands and protest all you want,” he says, looking at me
again. “I’m not taking you back.”

Balling my fists, I slam them at my sides. “Take me

back!”

He appears to be thinking it over. Then he shakes his

head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You are taking me back!”

“No. I am not.”

“You can’t just steal me! I’m someone’s child!” I’ve

never been away from my mother for more than six hours.
She’s probably a mess. I picture her sitting at the kitchen
table sobbing. Knowing she’s in pain tears me up inside.

Hades slinks closer to me. “Why not? I take people all

the time.”

“After they die! This is different!”

“How, so?”

Frustration bubbles in the pit of my stomach. I’m not in

the mood to play his games. “Stop this! You know the
answer to that!”

He smirks. “Do I?”

I scream so loud and so boisterous I swear it shakes

the entire room. “You know I’m an immortal! You know I will
not die!”

The thought of death makes me shudder. I don’t want

to think about dead things. Cold corpses. No heartbeat.
Dead plants. The underworld will be full of all the things
dead. I don’t belong here. I belong on earth with mom,
walking amongst plants, animals, and mortals that are alive.

“None of that matters,” Hades says, changing the

subject. “You’re not going anywhere.”

At the moment, I don’t feel like standing here bantering

with the God of Dread. Yes, as Marisol once put it, the God
of Dread. When I saw him in the field in my dream in the
field he looked alive. With color in his cheeks and a sparkle
in his blue-green eyes. Examining him now, his skin looks
ashy and pale, like the sun hasn’t kissed his it in centuries.
His hair is a dull shade of black licorice. But his eyes, they
were the only thing that set him apart from looking dead all
together. They were exquisite. Like sapphires and

emeralds melted together.

As I peer into them, I feel like I’m looking through them.

Like he’s translucent. An apparition. A spirit. I can see all of
him. And there is a spark in his eyes. I can’t decide what
kind of spark it is exactly, but there is a spark and that small
spark gives me hope. Hope that maybe he isn’t the cold,
despicable, and mysterious God he seems to be. Maybe
he is capable of feeling. Capable of expressing emotion.

I inch closer, standing before him. Even though he

towers over me in height, and his shadow covers my entire
body, I’m determined to show no fear. “If you know what’s
good for you, you’ll take me back right now. You don’t want
to piss off Zeus, do you?”

Hades scoffs, “I’m not afraid of Zeus.” He backs away

from me and leans against the fireplace, staring into the
whirling flames. “And if you thought that I would be, well,
then you’re an idiot.”

My jaw drops. “How dare you?” I sneer at him and huff,

“You might not be afraid of him now, but if you don’t return
me you will regret saying what you just said.”

He shrugs and lets out an icy laugh. “I will never fear

Zeus. And in case your parents didn’t mention this; he’s the
one who promised you to me in the first place.”

“He changed his mind,” I growl.

Hades stares at me. “I have no respect for God’s who

go back on their word.”

None of my reverse psychology is working. I was

hoping that maybe I could borrow a play from his book and
use Zeus’s wrath in attempt to get him to return me, but it
backfired. So I try a different approach. “Do you have
children?”

He shifts his gaze to the floor and it softens. “No.” Then

his gaze hardens as he looks back up at me. “What does
that have to do with any of this?”

“If you don’t have children of your own then I’m sure you

have no idea what it’s like for a parent when their child
goes missing.”

“But you’re not missing. Your parents know exactly

where you are.”

“That’s not the point!”

He circles me, staring, like he’s the madman and I’m

his experiment gone awry. “Then what is the point,
Persephone?” I try to come up with an answer, but as soon
as I open my mouth to speak he cuts me off. “There’s no
point in discussing this any further. You were meant to be

mine. End of story.”

This is enrages me. I am not a prize a person covets. “I

don’t belong to anybody! I belong to myself!”

Hades gives me an icy glare, and then walks out the

door. I stand in my spot for a moment when it occurs to me
that maybe I should be following him. Dashing out of the
room, he’s so far in front of me he looks like a spec of black
dust.

“Where are you going?” I shout after him.

“I’m showing you to your room!”

Sprinting, I close the distance between us. When I

finally catch up to him, the rubber soles on my shoes slide
against the black marble and I smack right into his back.
Hades stumbles forward, catches his balance, then faces
me with ferocity in his eyes and a sneer on his face. “Watch
where you’re going,” he growls.

His hostile attitude hits a nerve and tears brim in my

eyes. My chin quivers and I place my hand over my mouth
to keep the hysterical cry stuck in my throat from spilling
out. Finality hits me. I may never see my mom again. I might
never feel the warm sun against my skin overheating every
part of my body. I’m doomed—cursed to an eternity of the
musty scent of fermented things and rotting mildew. I’ll live

out my eternal life in a world filled with death and despair. I
can’t. I can’t do it. So I hit my knees and exhaust my last
option. “Hades, please,” I beg. “Please take me back.” An
agonizing swirl of pain pumps through my heart and as I
close my eyes tears spill down my cheeks. “Please,” I sob.
“I’ll do anything you ask. Just take me back!”

Honestly, I don’t expect him to be sympathetic to my

pleading, but I do expect him to show some sort of
compassion at the sight of my tears and how much pain I’m
in. He shows none. I wrap my arms around his leg, and
shake uncontrollably, crying harder than I ever have before.

Hades steps forward, walking through an open

doorway with me still clinging to his leg. “This is your room,”
he says flatly. The he lifts his leg giving it a forceful shimmy
and I release it, curling up onto the floor. I’m hysterical. I
scream. Wail. Howl out and pound my fist into the cold,
black marble floor.

Then it occurs to me that I’m acting like a child. Only

toddlers threw temper tantrums like this and as I lift my
head, I notice that Hades is gone and the door to my room
is closed. Where did he go? Why did he leave me in here?

I jump up quickly, sucking back my tears, and run to the

door. I twist the knob several times. “Son of a—!” He locked
me in. I’m a prisoner. His prisoner. Slamming my fists into
the thick wood, I shriek, “Hades! Let me out!” I resort to

kicking the door. “You hear me! Let me out!”

After pounding on the door for ten minutes straight and

wasting half of my energy in the process, I slide down
against the back of the door and wipe away the remaining
wetness that lingers on my cheeks. I’m no longer angry. I
am hurt. I’ve never met someone like Hades. I’ve never met
someone so…cold. This bothers me. If I saw a person
begging and pleading and hysterical, seeing them like that
would snap the strings to my heart. I don’t think Hades has
a heart. I think his organ is surrounded by a layer of ice. An
extremely thick layer of ice.

Lifting my head, I take inventory in the contents of my

prison. Standing up, my eyes drift around the extravagant
room. The flooring is black marble of course as is most of
the flooring in the underground palace, but the walls are a
deep shade of violet. A chandelier, similar to the one from
the dining hall hangs in the center of the ceiling and the
crystals shimmer in the dim lighting. And the bed is more
elaborate and expansive than any bed I’ve ever seen. With
a black marble frame, a king sized mattress and sheer
lavender and violet linens hanging off the canopy as
curtains.

My eyes shift to the left side of the room and I stroll

over to a vanity. Touching the velvet cushioned bench, I
gaze at the assortments of bath oils, lotions, perfumes, and
make-up organized neatly on top of the vanity table.

Mom believes in living modestly, another part of the

blending process. “Think about it, Persephone,” she’d said.
“If we drive into a new town with flashy, expensive cars,
move into the biggest house, and dress up in the latest
fashion trends the first thing the mortals will do is start
asking questions. Who are they? What do they do? Where
did they come from? How did they get all that money?”

Mom had a point. When we moved to Klamath Falls,

we rolled up in a station wagon from the 1970’s, with our
belongings tied to the roof. Wearing clothes from Target
and no one asked any questions. To them we were just
another ordinary family in a new place.

Because of my modest upbringing, the elaborate

decorations in my room leave me awe-struck, spinning in a
circle, taking everything in several times.

Walking over to the bed, I fall backwards onto the

mattress that could sleep at least five people and roll over.
I’m drained and exhausted. More than anything I’m
depressed. “Damn you, Hades,” I mumble, letting out a
yawn. Then I make a mental note. I can’t lie here and curse
myself and Hades and keep on pouting about being here
like a child. I won’t accomplish anything by doing that. I
should be doing something about my entrapment, like trying
to come up with a plan. I should be trying to figure out a way
to get out of here on my own.

Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow, first thing, I am

going to get out of this hell-hole. With that in mind, I drift off
to sleep. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and realize that
everything that happened today was a nightmare. Maybe
tomorrow, I’ll wake up in my own house and in my own bed.
Somehow…I doubt it.

Demeter

Those who are not parents could never fully understand

how much a parent loves their child. They wouldn’t
understand the bond. Demeter knew that bond, she knew it
well. But that bond seemed distant now, that bond seemed
like it was about to disappear.

Demeter was certain that she was going crazy.

Persephone had only been gone for hours, but to her it felt
like days. For the longest time, after Hades had pulled her
under, Demeter walked in a circle through her backyard
calling out her child’s name. The Goddess convinced
herself that she’d just imagined everything that went down.
She’d convinced herself that Persephone had just
wandered off. Maybe her child was just frolicking in the
meadow behind their house. Maybe she was deep in the
forest searching for wildflowers.

Even though Demeter knew neither one of those

scenarios were real, she kept pretending they were
because she knew that was the only she’d push through.

Otherwise, she’d be an emotional zombie for decades.
Maybe even centuries. She could not face the fact that the
God of Death had taken her child and she might never be
coming back.

Unable to sleep, Demeter strolled along the sidewalk

in her neighborhood, calling out her child’s name.
“Persephone! Persephone!” She couldn’t understand why
she was doing this. She knew where Persephone was, but
in the back of her mind she still hoped—no—prayed that
maybe everything that just happened was an illusion.

Demeter stopped in front of her driveway and stared

painfully at her house. A vision of Persephone popped into
her head and a faint smile curled on her lips. Persephone
was walking down the driveway on her way to school and
she was standing the doorway waving goodbye to her.
During that moment, as she reminisced of that fond
memory, it took everything inside of Demeter to stay
standing and not collapse on the pavement.

She heard a voice behind her. “Mrs. Jones?” The

voice belonged to the neighbor boy, Adonis. The one
Persephone walked to school with every morning.

At first Demeter said nothing to the boy. She was in a

trance-like state, staring blankly at the smooth concrete on
the sidewalk in front of her. Then she took notice in him,
staring at his perfect features and she could have sworn

that she knew him from somewhere. She could have sworn
that she’d seen him before. She shrugged off the thought.
She was blinded by grief and her mind was playing tricks
on her.

But the boy didn’t just leave when she didn’t answer

him. “Mrs. Jones, are you okay?” Still, Demeter remained
silent. The boy walked around in front of her. “Is
Persephone ready?” he probed. “We’re supposed to walk
to school together.”

She blanched at hearing the sound of her daughter’s

name. And the only words she could manage were, “Uh uh.
No.”

Adonis scrunched his eyebrows together. “Is she

sick?”

“Yes,” Demeter lied. It wasn’t that she planned on

being dishonest. It was that she was overwhelmed with
grief and the boy kept on reminding her of Persephone and
how she might never see her again.

“Oh,” Adonis said. “Well, tell her I hope she feels

better.”

“I will.” The she turned to walk up her driveway.

Back in the kitchen, Demeter sat at the kitchen table

and laid her head flat against the wood. She wasn’t
physically capable of doing anything. She could not eat.
She could not sleep. She didn’t even think she was capable
of using the restroom if she had to.

More than anything she blamed herself for

Persephone’s disappearance. Why hadn’t she been able
to see past Hades trick? In the past she had always been
able to see past his tricks, why not now? All of a sudden a
loud bang echoed from the front door, but Demeter
remained in her chair with her head down. She didn’t feel
like seeing anyone else today.

Seconds later loud heavy footsteps paraded down the

hallway and a presence lingered in the doorway.
“Demeter,” Zeus said. “I came as soon as you called.

She had completely forgotten about calling Zeus.

“He took her,” she whispered.

Zeus inched closer and Demeter lifted her head slowly.

Tears brimmed in her eyes and Zeus took her head in his
hands. “Don’t worry,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ve set a plan in
motion. We are going to get her back. We

will

get her

back.”

Persephone

I’m not dreaming. The sad reality sets in when I wake

up hours later in the same bed I had fallen asleep in. But,
during my slumber a dream did come to me. And in that
dream was a message. A message that showed me how
to escape.

I remembered talking with mom about Charon, the

ferryman. The minion of Hades who ferried the souls of the
dead across the Styx from the land of the living. Aside from
Hades, he is the only other immortal who can cross both
realms. He could take me back. I haven’t eaten anything
since I’ve been here, so there’s nothing to bind me to this
world. A grin sweeps across my lips. Maybe today is going
to be a good day after all.

Much to my surprise, Hades must have decided that

while I slept I was worthy of having my door unlocked. This
is a blessing, well; a blessing to me, but it will be a disaster
for Hades. I wonder what he’ll do when he discovers that I’m
gone. Flinging the door open, I glance down the hall warily.

It’s abandoned and the silence fills my ears. Turning, I close
the door to my room quietly, and then creep out into the hall.
The rubber on my tennis shoes squeaks against the marble
flooring. I wince glancing over my shoulder. I’m making too
much noise. So I remove my shoes, tuck them under my
armpit and continue walking.

Once I reach the end of the hall, I stop in front an open

door. Peaking inside, the room appears to be some kind of
control room with glowing buttons, gleaming chrome, and
televisions everywhere. Spread across, below the wall of
televisions, is a massive keyboard with various buttons and
gadgets.

For someone like me, who is always letting my

curiosity get the best of me, this room is a playground. I
want to know what all these buttons are for. I want to push
them. Stepping inside, I stroll over to the keyboard staring
at a giant red lever labeled earth. Hmm. I wonder what will
happen if I pull the lever. Will the entire underworld fall apart
and break off into pieces, crumbling like the twin towers? I
shrug. “Nah.” So I pull the lever then wait. Nothing happens.
Maybe it’s useless. Or maybe it’s broken or something. My
eyes dart around the room. I’m wasting time standing here
contemplating whether the lever I just pulled is broken, so I
head for the door. But I only make it a few steps and the
whole room goes black. What’s going on? Maybe the lever
is like a light switch. Maybe if I push it up, the lights will
come back on.

Pivoting on my heel, I strut back to the lever. My arm is

outstretched and my fingers inch closer. I’m just about to
push the red bar up when a bright light reflecting off one of
the television screens catches my eye. Turning, I face what
is behind me. My mouth drops open, my eyes widen.

Rotating on its invisible axis is a hologram version of

earth. With bright blue, green glowing colors, and tiny red
dots placed sporadically all over it. I smile, kind of amused.
It looks like the earth has what mortals call the chicken pox.
I slink closer to the hologram in awe. The lights flicker in my
eyes and I reach out to touch it, but when I do the tips of my
fingers skim right through it. I jump back, startled when a
computerized voice screeches, “Name please.”

“Name please,” the female voice repeats.

I don’t have a name to give her. I’m puzzled. Then it

dawns on me. This has to be how Hades keeps track of all
the dying mortals in the world. Or all the mortals in the world
in general. When you have to give them judgment on how
they’ll live out eternity, I imagine that you have to watch them
throughout their lives too. The world continues spinning and
I wonder something; I wonder if Hades can keep track of
the immortals too.

“Name please,” rings out a third time.

Stepping forward, I’ve got an idea. “Demeter Jones,” I

say softly. Maybe if I can actually see mom I might feel a
little better inside. I’m more worried about her than I am
myself.

The earth whirls around so fast it becomes a blur.

“Locating, Demeter Jones.” All of a sudden the hologram
earth vanishes. In place of it is a picture mom. Underneath
her image are written words.

Demeter Jones

Member of the Immortals

Goddess of the Harvest and Fertility.

Most recent place of residency – Klamath Falls, OR.

“Wow,” I gasp. Hades really does know everything.

Focusing on the floor, I exhale and then I hear it…sobbing.

Mom’s photo fades from the screen. In place of the

photo is a streaming video. I’m baffled and elated at the
same. How is Hades able to do this? Does he plant
cameras in every household on earth? The questions in my
head drift away when I get a better look at mom’s face. Her
eyes are bloodshot, with purplish circles underneath. Like
she hasn’t slept in days. Her skin is pale and her

cheekbones are sunken in a tiny bit. If I know her, she hasn’t
eaten either. She hangs her head low and sobs
uncontrollably. Zeus steps into view and places his hand on
mom’s shoulder and caresses it gently. “Demeter, we’ll get
her back. I promise.”

I try to touch the hologram, but just like before, my

fingers slide right through it. “Mom!” I shout. “Can you hear
me?”

She can’t.

Seconds later the feed disappears and is replaced

with the hologram earth again. Seeing mom like that shreds
me to pieces. I’m pounds of raw hamburger being forced
through a meat grinder. Red and pink pieces curling onto a
Styrofoam tray, waiting for the butcher to package me for
sale.

No more distractions. No more exploring. I have to get

out of here. Now.

Stomping back to the keyboard. I push the lever up

with so much force I almost snap it off. I am going to get out
of this realm of doom and gloom. No matter what it takes.

Persephone

After getting lost three times and wasting what seems

close to two hours, I finally find my way to the double doors
that lead outside of Hades palace. I take a deep breath and
yank the doors open, stepping out into a realm of
emptiness, death, and misery. And after standing outside
the palace for only seconds, all I want to do is turn around
and go back inside.

There’s something levitating in thick air of the

underworld that makes me feel like every ounce of
goodness has been drained from my body. Now I can see
why Hades is the way he is. If I had to look at this
devastating depressing realm every day for all of eternity I’d
be bitter and cold too. The exterior of the palace is made of
black hardened rock that reminds me of tar, bubbling for
centuries in a tar pit, then cooling permanently in odd
shapes and sizes. Circular towers stretch upward pointed
like a sewing spindle, disappearing into a line of heavy
gray smog. Dead trees line the walkway, with limbs like
broken bones, bent and misshapen. And encircling the

perimeter are asphodels. Asphodels everywhere.

I run over to the white and pink speckled flowers,

determined to destroy them. I rip the asphodels from the
ground, tear them in pieces, throw them down, stomp on
them and kick them. If I never see another asphodel for the
rest of my immortal life I’ll be perfectly content with that. But
it doesn’t matter. Seconds after I’d destroyed some of
them, the bare spots on the ground are replaced with new
ones. The white blossoms bloom before my eyes like
they’d been sleeping all winter and have just been graced
with the spring sunshine.

Screaming in frustration, I drop the remaining flowers

in my hands and sprint through the canopy of dead trees.
Bats flap their wings above my head and I use my arms as
a shield and cover myself. The walkway made of grayish
clay stretches on for a half a mile and I’m too afraid to drop
my arms. This place is full of uncertainty and I have no idea
what it has in store for me. And I assume that means there
will be worse things than a few bats.

At the end of the walkway, I come to a halt and peak

through my arms. Thick, impossible to see through, smog
looms above me, but I don’t see any more bats so I lower
my limbs. Two feet in front of me is a wide gap in the
ground. Connecting each side is a narrow cemented
bridge. A bride so narrow, it looks almost like a balance
beam. Peering over the edge of my side of the gap, I

shudder at the drop. It has to be at least one hundred feet.
Jagged rocks stick out at various angles and I wince when I
think about having to recover from a fall that severe.

Backing up to give myself some running room, I make

a mental note to just sprint forward and not look down. But
then I center on the other side of the gap. There is a wall of
smog so thick it reminds me of a brick wall. A barrier. A
blockade, keeping one side of the underworld away from
the other. One side is Troy, the other a clever Greek king
named Agamemnon. The Trojan wall was a fortress of
safety, but the entire world knows that no matter how big the
barrier, cement can’t block intelligence.

I know my freedom waits on the opposite side of this

gap. Even though I’m terrified of what awaits me, dead
things mostly, I have to push through it. I just have to.
Adrenaline pumps though me and I hop up and down
amping myself up. I close my eyes and exhale, listening to
the calm sound of rushing water. “This is the key to your
freedom,” I say aloud. I’ve come to the conclusion that the
only way I’m going to find this Charon guy is by crossing
this bridge.

So I charge forward, feet pounding into the clay,

staring straight ahead. Loose rocks breaking off and
smacking into the walls of the deep ravine fill my ears.
Panting, I keep going, pushing myself. A few more paces.
A few more paces and I’ll be on the other side. And before I

realize it, I’m an immortal wrecking ball blasting through a
wall of thick gray smog.

Hades

The God of the Dead leaned against the wooden

frame of his future queen’s door. Her comforter was flipped
over and her violet satin sheets were a crumpled mess.
She had definitely slept in her bed, but that left him
wondering; where was she now?

Puzzled, Hades strolled into the adjoining bath, to see

that every item in it was still in place. None of the towels
had been used. All the expensive luxurious soaps he had
purchased were still in their fancy wrappings and the
bathtub was bone dry.

In the hall, he examined the marble tile, hoping to spot

some footprints or something to give him some explanation
on which direction she might have gone. He knew his
realm. He knew the wicked and despicable things that
lurked around every corner and he feared for his future
queen. He’d been hostile with her yesterday and he
assumed she might be angry with him. That was the last
thing Hades wanted. He wanted to show the Goddess he’d

been obsessed with for thousands of years that there was
more to him than what he’d put off the previous day.

He loved the fact that she was a bit defiant. It meant

that she wasn’t weak. He couldn’t have a weakling sitting in
a throne next to him. The realm of the dead chewed up
weaklings and spit them out.

All of a sudden, the sound of Cerberus’s thunderous

footsteps pounded through the narrow hall. Stopping at
Hades feet, the three-headed dog hung his middle head
low, his snout planted on a particular portion of the black
marble. Hades bent down and stroked each one of the
dog’s three heads. “Good boy,” he cooed.

Straightening up, he pointed his finger at his best

friend. “Cerberus, heel.” The dog sat down and all three
tongues from all three heads rolled out, hanging as the pet
panted.

Cerberus licked his master’s face and Hades planted

his fingers against the marble and closed his eyes. In a last
ditch effort he infiltrated Persephone’s mind to find out
exactly where she was going. Then the mighty God laughed
out loud. Persephone was definitely clever. He’d give her
that.

And now he knew exactly where to find her.

Persephone

Shadows. There are shadows everywhere. Big ones.

Small ones. Shadows of different shapes. Circles.
Triangles. Squares. The shadows are eerie and creepy
and as they pass over my face they make me feel cold and
empty inside. The shadows are swallowing my years of
existence. Eating me alive. The shadows won’t disappear
until I’m a robot. Luckily for me, I’ve lived for a long time.

Speaking of being cold, when I’d first arrived I

assumed that the underworld would be hot, but it’s the
opposite. It’s freezing down here. My teeth chatter as I
massage my arms, rubbing warmth back into them. Every
time I stop massaging my arms a fresh array of goose
bumps sprout up while I trudge through what appears to be
a massive bleak underground desert.

Funnels of gray sand swirl around me and a gust of

cold air blasts me in the face. The desert is never-ending
and seems too calm for my taste. When things are calm
that usually means something is about to happen. I am

right.

Voices hiss around me, spinning in circles filling up my

head and drowning out my thoughts. I feel like I’m in
crowded room, boxed in by the chatter. Except these
voices aren’t speaking coherently and there isn’t a person
in sight. I know the underworld is a land of illusion. I know
it’s a place where nothing is as it seems. But it’s one thing
to know those things. To actually experience the
strangeness of another realm, that’s something completely
terrifying.

A sudden tap on my shoulder causes me to spin

around. “Hello.” My vocal chords quiver and fear spreads
through me like the plague. “Hades? Is that you?”

Squinting ahead a sheer shadow with a white film

covering appears before me. As the shadow lurches closer
I can tell it isn’t a shadow at all. It’s an apparition. A ghostly
ghoul determined to haunt me. A discarded spirit
determined to scare the bejeezus out of me. And it’s
working.

Before I’m able to let out a scream, the spirit bursts

into a million pieces. Like raindrops suspended in an
atmosphere without gravity. The ghost particles hang in the
air for a minute, and then fall to the ground. They linger on
the gray clay then like they are being sucked through the
ground by an invisible vacuum, the particles disappear.

Great. I have enough to deal with and now I have to add one
more thing to that—ghosts.

More apparitions appear. Men. Women. Even

children. And they float toward me like astronauts,
suspended in the air by lack of gravity. Their faces hollow
and sunken in. Mouths forming an “o” shape as they let out
gluteal moans. All they do is moan. None of them utter a
clear word. It’s like someone stabbed each one of them in
the neck with a scalpel and twisted their vocal chords
around the blade so they wouldn’t be able to speak
coherently. Their arms are extended, like they are reaching
out for me. Like they are begging me for help. I am their
savior.

But I’m not their savior. I’m just a Goddess who has

been running from their commander her entire life. I’m just a
Goddess who prays every day to be considered normal. I’m
just a Goddess who wants nothing more than to go home.

I am not their queen. I don’t want to be and I never will

be. Yet they float closer and closer as fear takes a firmer
hold of my insides. Swallowing hard, I tell myself I can’t let
my fear get the best of me. I need to keep going because I
have to be getting close to the Styx. As the spirits loom
closer, I take a few steps back. And when the first ghost is
only inches away from me, that’s when I take off running.

There’s no traction in the soles of my tennis shoes and

as I run, I’m slipping and sliding in the gray sand. Minutes
pass and I’m still running. I think about giving up. But I can’t.
I hear them behind me. I hear their tortured moans filling up
the whole underworld and that’s what keeps me going. Still
stampeding forward, I struggle to breathe. “What do you
want with me?” I rasp in between breaths. I don’t know why I
bother asking. I know they can’t speak.

The spirits are gaining on me. They float faster than I

can run. Glimpsing over my shoulder I see the first one only
feet away from me, so I push myself harder. I make myself
run faster. But my body is wearing down. I need to catch my
breath or I’m going to pass out. My heart thunders in my
chest. My joints ache. I’m starting to topple over. I’m the

Leaning Tower of Pisa,

but I catch myself before I crash

and crumble over some village in Italy.

Up ahead is another thick wall of smog. If I can make it

through the smog then maybe I’ll end up in another part of
this realm. Maybe the smog will catapult me into another
dimension. Any part of this realm is better than where I am
now. Being chased by the dead through a desert of gray
sand and whirling cyclones sucks.

I sprint through the mass of smog like a marathon

runner who has just ripped the red ribbon with their
abdomen and crossed the finish line. The crowd cheers
and jeers letting out a boisterous round of applause at my
accomplishment. Except my crowd is a bevy of ghosts. And

they are still following me. I hear their wails of agony as they
blast through the smog.

Spinning in a circle I realize I have nowhere to go.

Behind me is a river and the murky brownish-green waters
jilt back and forth lapsing into the gray sand. Stepping
backwards, I back up until I can’t anymore. One more step
and I’ll plummet into the murky waters of the river and be
whisked away by the current. I can’t run. I can’t hide. They
are moaning for me. They are coming for me.

In a last resort effort, I duck and throw my hands over

my head as each ghost passes through my body into the
choppy waters of the river behind me. And every time a
ghost passes through me I feel myself getting weaker and
weaker. Finally, after the last one disappears, I hit my
knees going face first into a mountain of gray sand. But at
least I can breathe again. At least my lungs are expanding
and working correctly. And most importantly, I’m so glad I’m
not a vessel for the dearly departed anymore.

Picking myself up, I sit down facing the river. I clutch my

chest feeling it rise up and down and drop my head in
between my knees for a minute. Then I lift my head and
debate on jumping into the river and trying to swim across
it. The water whizzes past me at a high speed and I decide
against it. The last thing I want is to be swept off in the
current of an unknown river and not knowing when or if I’d
ever be found.

Then I’m hit with an epiphany. It hits me so hard I feel

like someone has just smacked me in the face with a
shovel. The bitter taste of metal fills my mouth and I swear
there is a red welt on my cheek. Is it possible that I’m sitting
on the banks of the Styx? Right behind the water is a kind
of brown stone cavern with dim lights and a wooden dock
of some kind. A dock! Why else would there need to be a
dock if wasn’t to let the ferryman on and off the ferry?

I jump up from my spot so overwhelmed with

excitement that I feel like I’ll grow wings and soar through
the air. I look up at the cloudy gray skyline. What kind of bird
would want to fly down here? A dead one. I tuck the morbid
thought in the back of my mind and focus on the dock again
when a wave of depression sweeps through me. It’s high
tide and the wave crashes down on me and pulls me out to
sea. The dock is across the river.

Water rushes past me faster, picking up more speed

by the minute. I decided swimming across was out of the
question minutes ago. But there doesn’t seem to be any
other way. Narrowing my eyes, I skim up and down the
banks of the river, stopping when I see a line of rocks
leading to the other side.

Running toward the boulders sticking out of the water,

hope flourishes through me. But I have to be careful. The
moldy colored water sprays against the rocks, dampening

them and making them slick. This river separates me from
the living and the dead. This river separates me from my
mom. This river is a cataclysmic barrier of destruction and I
don’t care what it takes; I have to make it across it. Even if I
have to crawl all the way.

Carefully, I place a foot on the first rock. The large

stone is round and the surface is flat so it’s an easy first
step. The second rock is slightly smaller and the tip comes
to a bit of a point, so I hop quickly from the second rock to
the third. I repeat the same process until I come to the
seventh and final rock.

First off, the rock is an odd shape with three prong-like

portions. Two that stick out horizontally and one that sticks
up vertically. This rock reminds me of half of a star, the
other half is submerged under water. There is a gap in
between the horizontal prongs, but it’s not like the surface is
smooth. No, the surface is full of bumps and as the river
plows into it, another layer of moisture slaps down on top of
it. Only a foot, maybe two at the most separates me from
the opposite side of the river. So I place one foot on the
rock in the right spot then slowly place the other one in the
left spot. Just when I think I’m going to make it across, a
repetitive plunking noise distracts me and my sends my
right foot jetting forward an inch. My limbs flail and I arch my
back. Oh no! I’m going to fall.

Out of nowhere, as if pair of hands are on my back I’m

shoved forward and my knees pound into the gray river
bank. Uneasy, I glance over my shoulder to see who or
what just pushed me, but there’s nothing. No one. Nothing
but gray skies, rushing water and slippery stepping stones.
The plunking noise I’d heard a second earlier grows louder
and in the distance I see the bow of a wooden ship.

The rickety wooden oars twirl around and move

through the water and the ship almost sails past the
wooden dock. On my feet I rush over to the dock, skidding
to a stop at the edge. A rope ladder unwinds down the side
of the ship. I watch intensely as a grisly man climbs down
and hops off onto the dock.

“Sir,” I say, slinking closer.

He lifts his head, squinting an eye at me. “Eh?”

“Is your name Charon?”

He keeps himself at least a foot away from me, eyeing

me curiously. Then reaching up, he removes a fitted black
hat from his head. Wisps of white hair stand up as he
scratches a bald-spot consuming half of his head. “Who’s
asking?” he inquires in a grizzly voice.

“You’re the ferryman, right?”

He nods and places the hat back on his head. “I am.”

I lurch closer to him. “Can you take me back to the land

of the living? I’ve been brought here by mistake.”

He holds out his hand to me. I stare at the crinkled

palm full of callouses for a second confused, then shrug and
slap it.

“What was that for?” he rasps.

“Weren’t you welcoming me? On earth slapping hands

is like a welcome gesture.”

“Well, down here it means pay me or go away.” He

turns to walk away.

“Pay you? For what?”

“The ferry ride. You got a danake?”

I scrunch my eyebrows together. “A danake?”

Danakes don’t exist anymore. They were the form of
currency in Ancient Greece. I find it odd that Hades is up to
date technology-wise, but his ferryman is still requesting
extinct currency as a form of payment.

“Well, any kind of coin will do,” he tells me.

Frantically, I fumble through my pockets hoping that I

have some spare change on me. I turn my empty jean
pocket inside out. “I don’t have any money.”

“No money, no ferry ride,” he says gruffly as he walks

down the dock.

“Can’t you make an exception?” I plead. “I came all this

way!” And was chased by spirits and almost fell into a river
of death.

“No money! No ride!”

“Unfortunately for you, Charon is a very greedy man.”

The voice of a third man rings out.

I whip around and face Hades. I frown, disgusted and

sneer, “What are you doing here?”

“Well, first I saved your life when you almost fell into the

Styx. It’s not very smart to play on rocks in the river. You
never know when you might slip and fall.”

My jaw drops. “That was you!”

He nods. “And it’s a good thing I went searching for my

queen after I discovered she wasn’t in her room.”

“Let’s get one thing straight, Hades,” I say harshly. “I’m

not now, nor will I ever be your queen.”

He scans me up and down with his vibrant blue-green

eyes, a playful look on his face. “We’ll see about that.” Then
he breaks his focus on me and shifts to the right, stepping
closer to Charon. “How many souls today, ferryman?” he
inquires.

Charon drops his head shamefully. “Only twelve.”

“Twelve?” I don’t think I’ve ever heard Hades voice go

up that high and I bite back a giggle at the sound of it. I
swear he almost squeaked.

“Yes,” Charon replies. “But the day has only just

begun.”

The two of them engage in heated debate. I take that

as my cue to exit, slowly creeping away from them. Then
when Hades starts shouting, I take off running down the
dock and as far away from it as I can get before he realizes
I’m gone. But it doesn’t take him long.

Seconds after I take off he appears in front of me and I

almost smack into him. “Argh,” I growl. “Stop doing that!”

“Stop running away,” he says calmly.

I step to my right then to my left, but he keeps up with

me. When I move he moves. “Where do you think you’re

going?”

“Away from you!”

“How many times do we have to go over this,” he

groans, frustrated. “You’re not going anywhere.” The
frustration in his voice hardens to stone cold absolution.

“Watch me.” I charge ahead, shoving into him as hard

as I can. He falls back, but disappears before he hits the
ground. And I’m still running. I’m free. Or maybe not. I’m
running, but I’m not going anywhere. I’m still in the same
spot.

Looking over my shoulder, I see Hades with a devilish

grin clutching the bottom of the shirt. “You know,” he retorts.
“I always knew you’d be difficult, but I don’t think I was
prepared for this.”

“If I’m so difficult, why don’t you just let me go and save

yourself the hassle?”

He spins me around by the tail of my shirt and grips

onto my shoulders. His eyes sear into mine. “I don’t think
so. I like the defiant part of you.”

I mentally curse the tiny sliver of defiance that is

wrapped up somewhere inside of me. Without it, then I
wouldn’t be here with him—Hades. The devil without a

disguise. A dark, cold, and drab version of what a queen
might want in a king. Some other future queen. Not me.

Hades lets go of my shirt and I brush past him trudging

farther down the banks of the Styx. After I make it a few
feet, he materializes next to me keeping up with me stride
for stride. “All right,” he says coolly. “Enough of this. We are
going back.”

I raise an eyebrow. “To earth?”

“No.” There’s a baffled tone in his deep, gruff voice.

“Why would we go back there?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I thought there was some

decency inside of you somewhere.”

“I promise you, there isn’t.”

“Then I’m not going anywhere with you. I’ll find my own

way back home.” I walk faster, kicking up gray sand as I
break into a jog.

Hades isn’t next to me anymore. He’s behind me. And

as I get farther away, I hear him shout, “You won’t last an
hour out here by yourself! There are regions of the
underworld that would make even the most fearless heroes
wet their pants!”

“I’ll take my chances!”

A second ago he was right behind me. Now he’s

inches in front of me. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Before I can react, he lunges for me, scooping me up

into his arms like a Pelican carrying a mouth full of water
and fish. I feel like he’s going to swallow me. At any second
I’ll be swimming through the enzymes in his stomach
amongst catfish guts. I’m inside his body like food that
doesn’t agree with him. Spit me out already! I want to be
regurgitated. I slam my fists into a wall of hard abs. “Let go
of me!”

“Oh is that what you want? You want me to let go of

you?” He mocks me with a condescending tone. “I’m only
here to serve you my queen.”

He releases me and I stumble forward, prepared to eat

a mouthful of gray sand, but instead, I ram into the frame of
my bed. “What?” I whirl around, confused. I’m back in my
bedroom.

Hades leans, propped up against my doorframe.

“Welcome back.” I start toward him and he spreads his
arms out blocking me in. “Now, when you can learn not to
venture off on your own or plan any more secretive
escapes, I’ll consider leaving your door unlocked, but until
then—”

“Don’t you dare!” I interrupt.

A moment later Hades vanishes and my door slams

shut. The lock clicks like a gun after it has been cocked. I
hurl my body into the thick wood and pound on it. “Open this
door!” I jiggle the brass knob and it barely moves. “Hades!
You let me out! You can’t keep me locked up like some
prisoner!”

“But you’re not a prisoner at all.” His voice is slightly

muffled as it wafts through the solid oak. “You’re the Queen
of the Dead. And the last thing I want is something bad
happening to you because you let your curiosity get the
best of you. No pun intended.”

I don’t care what he says. I still feel like a prisoner. He

might as well have shackled me to my bed. “Hades!” I kick
the door. “Let me out!”

No answer.

I kick the door again. “Damn it! Let me out of here!”

Still no answer.

Fury mounts inside of me like Old Faithful. I’m a geyser

full of hot water and steam and I’m about to blow. I storm
over to my bed and plant my face into the one of the soft

pillows and scream. I scream for seconds. Minutes. If I
scream any longer I’m certain I’ll make it to the hour mark.
Balling up my fists I beat my pillows like I’m heavyweight
boxer. I’m the world champion with my gold encrusted belt
hanging over my shoulder. Even though my pillow is a lowly
underdog, clearly incapable of a victory, I feel better after
releasing some of my pent up anger on it.

Rolling over, I let out all the air I’d been holding in. I’m

calm. I’m calm, a serene river with flecks of sunlight dancing
along my surface. Coldness surges through me and the
heat in my cheeks freezes over. What I’ve realized is that I
need to go about this in a different way. What if instead of
fighting Hades I start cooperating? I bolt upright as the plot
in my head unravels. That’s it! I will pretend to be obedient.
Then when he least expects it…Bam! I’ll make my escape.

All I have to do is make it through tomorrow. If I can do

that, then I’ll be home free. But in a world like this one, you
never know what it will have in store for you. Who knows
what the next day will bring? And Hades never drops his
guard. I guess when you command the dead it’s always
best to sleep with one eye open and I guess that that
means I should too.

Persephone

A moist, sticky residue drips onto my face. I swat at my

cheek, roll over, and wipe the moisture onto my pillow. But
that doesn’t help. Now I’m lying in wetness and it makes me
uncomfortable. More fluid drips down onto my opposite
cheek and every time I wipe it away more magically
appears.

Has Hades sent someone in here to wash my face?

Does he have servants? Besides Charon I hadn’t seen
another actual person. And if he did send someone in here
to aid me, couldn’t they wait until I wake up? I haven’t even
opened my eyes yet.

I lift my hand and fling it at an invisible person. “Stop it!”

Turning my head, I create an even bigger wet spot on my
pillow. Where is all the wetness coming from? My eyelids
flutter and open. Dangling next to me is a giant glob of
slobber. Clear and thick and its seconds away from falling
onto my face. I scoot over and follow the drool with my eyes
to its source.

My eyes bug out and I suck a large gulp of air, holding

my breath. There is a large beast in my bed. With a shiny
coat of short black fur so shiny it seems like it’s been
greased up with a can of Pam. Three massive heads loom
above me. And the beast’s beady black eyes slit at me.
Don’t move I tell myself and my spine stiffens. I’ve seen and
read stories about animal attacks where you’re supposed
to be completely still. A person is also supposed to seem
fearless because the attacking animal can sense the fear
inside of you. And by the way this beast-like animal is
eyeing me; I know it can tell I’m petrified.

The beast lowers its middle head, showing its long

pointy teeth and lets out a low, menacing growl. More large
sticky globs of drool hang down from its jowls, unfurling and
breaking off like plaster in an abandoned building. I can feel
my whole body shaking my bed. Like one of those vibrating
mattresses in a cheap motel room. All I need is two more
quarters and I’ll be able to move the dial from gentle
massage to hyper speed.

Then it starts barking and I yelp, “Help me!”

Not even a second later my door flies open and Hades

eyes the beast, his Aegean eyes narrowed. “Cerberus!
Heel!” he commands.

I slide back slowly, fall off my bed, and scramble over

to the corner cowering. “That thing has a name,” I gasp
finally able to breathe.

“That thing is not a thing. He’s a unique type of dog,

guardian, and he’s my pet.” The dog-beast hops off my
bed, strolls over to Hades, and rubs his head against the
top of Hades thigh. “Cerberus has been the most obedient
servant and loyal companion for the last five thousand
years.” He crouches down and roughly scratches all three
heads. “Haven’t you boy?”

“Your pet?” I squawk. “That thing is a monstrosity and

belongs in a freak-show. It shouldn’t be anyone’s pet.”

He stares into each set of the dog’s six black eyes.

“You hear that Cerberus? The queen isn’t fond of you. But
tell her, she’ll have plenty of time to get to know you, won’t
she?” Cerberus howls out and Hades stands up. “Okay,
enough play-time.” He points out the open door. “Cerberus!
Out!” And just like that, the beast drops its three heads, lets
out a muffled whimper, and struts out my door.

I stand and place my hands on hips. “How did he get in

my room?”

Hades vanishes from the doorway and reappears on

my bed. “I came to check on you earlier to see if you were
awake. I left the door open and wasn’t even gone for ten
minutes and Cerberus must have come in then.”

“That dog is terrifying and revolting.”

“You will learn to love him. He can be quite the gentle

giant once he gets used to you.”

“I will never learn to love that…that…thing!” I shudder

and wipe my cheek again, hoping that the drool is gone.

Hades leans back on my bed, both of his arms behind

his head and the short sleeves on his black t-shirt rise up
revealing bulging muscles in his forearms. “So,” he begins,
“I was thinking you and I could come to some sort of
arrangement.”

I walk closer. “What kind of arrangement?”

“You want to go back to earth, right?”

“Yes.” Last night I had divulged my own plan on how to

get back to earth, but if his idea sounds better I am open for
suggestions. “What do you have in mind?”

“How about you give me five days? And if after those

five days you feel nothing for me at all I will release you and
you will be free to go back.”

“And this isn’t some sort of trick?”

“No it isn’t. I promise.”

“Five days, starting when? Today?”

He doesn’t verbalize his answer he only nods.

“But that’s not fair! I’ve already spent two whole days

here!”

He shrugs. “That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

I stare at the floor. Black marble blurs in my eyes and

tiny specs of glitter sparkle and the floor reminds me of the
sky at night. At this point, his offer sounds tempting. Then I
won’t have to navigate through this world alone in search of
a way out. He’s handing me my freedom on a silver platter
because I know there’s no way I could possible feel
anything for him in five days. But could I go that long without
eating? Starvation will not kill me so I’ll have to try. I lift my
head and stare into his eyes. “I accept your offer,” I tell him.
“I will remain here for five more days with you.”

“Good,” he says as he gets up and starts for the door.

“Wait!” I call. “Where are you going?”

He doesn’t give me a straight answer. “Wash up and

change your clothes.”

He turns right outside my door and I follow him.

“What?”

“I have something special planned for us,” he says.

“Just do what I told you to.”

He is not my parent and I don’t like being told what to

do. I’ve been told what to do for five thousand years and
look where that got me, trapped in hell with him. So far,
Hades has been pretty tolerant of my radical spontaneous
behavior and I am at the point where I want to see just how
far I can push him. “Why?”

“Just do it.”

“But why?”

I rush around in front of him, planting my face directly in

front of his. Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?”

He clenches his jaw and grits his teeth. “Persephone!

Stop this nonsense now!”

One more time. “Why?” I pretty much always like to

have the last word anyway.

He takes me by surprise when he whips around,

clutches my arm and backs me up into the wall, his cheeks
flushed and red, full of rage. “Are you a child?” he growls.

For the first time since I’ve arrived here I fear him. A

startled gasp gets stuck in my throat. His eyes pierce mine
and slowly that fear melts away like ice when the seasons
change from winter to spring. His clenched jaw relaxes and
he’s breathing heavy, cheeks still flushed and the color in
them slowly fades from red to pink. Then I notice something
else for the first time since my arrival. He’s beautiful,
terrifyingly beautiful. He reminds me of a lion. A fierce and
brutal predator, yet at the same time there’s a certain
gracefulness and beauty in the way they pounce on their
prey. And his outburst a second earlier made him even
more beautiful to me.

He’s not soft, but isn’t that how a man or God is

supposed to be? Fierce and warrior-like. Fearless. Hades
isn’t used to company or having someone question him.
He’s spent an eternity alone. Answering to nothing and
nobody. I’ve been brought here and I assume it’s going to
be an adjustment for him to get used to having another
person around. Even if it is for a short time.

I’m captivated. Lost. Staring at a spark of emotion in

his radiant eyes. I can’t even speak as he stares down at
me. There’s a magnetism in his eyes like he’d rather spend
all day gazing into my jade-green eyes than perform all of
his tasks for the day. Then I see it. Him taking me wasn’t
just about loneliness or there being a thrill in chasing me for
all this time. He feels something for me and I can tell he

senses me catching on.

He lowers his gaze and backs away from me. His cold

front back up. “I apologize for being forceful,” he says
sincerely. “Just meet me in the dining hall in two hours.” And
a second later he’s gone.

Me, I’m staring at the spot he’d just vanished from. I

can’t bear to tear my gaze away from it. Almost like he’s
still there and all I want to do is watch him. An illusion of him
is better than facing the reality of him not being here. I close
my eyes and see his eyes, glowing turquoise orbs in the
middle of a dark room. So beautiful and so enchanting they
can light up even the darkest of worlds. Opening my eyes, I
look at the floor, blink several times, and snap out of the
trance I was in. What’s wrong with me? Has Hades cast
some spell over me? Shaking my head I swallow my
feelings and walk into my room.

A long flowing dress the shade of crimson is already

laid out on my bed. Who put that there? Lifting it up, I
caress the tulle material between my fingertips and hold
them the dress up to my body. My eyes dart around the
room and zoom in on the floor length mirror in the left corner
of the room. I waltz toward it and examine the red dress
against my skin. The bodice is fitted at the top with a
sweetheart neckline and the bottom flows out at the waist.

I spin around and laugh. I haven’t had the opportunity to

dress up like this in ages. Mom never let me go to any
balls, parties, or school dances. I’d always liked to dress up
and I always hated watching all the other girls my age that
got to attend homecoming and prom. Their dresses all
vibrant shades of pink, purple, and blue standing out in their
yards having their pictures taken with their dates while we
drove past them.

Lying the dress back down on my bed, I walk into my

bathroom, desperate to Cerberuses slobber stains off of
my cheeks. Turning on the water, I dip my hands
underneath the cool stream and splash the icy water onto
my face as my roaming thoughts take over. Slowly I can feel
my dislike and disgust for the dictator of the dead
subsiding. Drying my face off with a soft violet hand towel I
can feel a kinship growing inside of me. It begins as a small
tingle in my heart and spreads like a drug addict who has
just shot the substance into their veins. Soon, I’m tingling all
over.

Mom was wrong about him. Wrong about Hades. I get

the sense that there is more to him than he lets on. And
there is more to him than mom gave him credit for. He’s not
all debauchery and manipulation. He’s just a God who has
been misunderstood for thousands of years. But I’m still not
sure if I’ll be able to like him in an emotional, longing kind of
way. I mean I know I feel something, but whether that
something is like or pity is what I’m not sure of. Yet.

Demeter

Demeter paced back and forth in front of Zeus’s throne

in the Hall of the Gods. White flurried marble flurried in her
eyes like fresh fallen snow on a winter morning. She
lowered her head, dropping her gaze. Thinking of the snow
reminded her of her daughter. Persephone loved the winter.
Mainly because of Christmas. During their time on the run,
Demeter had allowed her child experience some of the
indulgencies the mortals did.

Even though the spring was Persephone’s most

favorite and cherished season. Demeter would never forget
the way her eyes lit up at Christmastime. The decorations,
the snow, Persephone had loved it all.

“Demeter!” Zeus called from the door.

She turned snapping out of her trance. “Did you find

him?” the Goddess inquired.

Zeus nodded. “He’s on his way.”

“That was quick,” she commented.

“This whole plan has to unfold quickly. We don’t know

how long Persephone will be able to hold out without
eating.”

Demeter walked to the window and gazed out at what

Greece had become in the last five thousand years. There
was still a quaintness to Athens. The way the white square
homes were clustered together into the sides of the hills.
The vibrant blue color of the sea. Boats lined the docks as
fisherman unloaded nets full of sea creatures. “I know my
girl,” she said with confidence. “She’s smart.”

Zeus approached her and looked out the window over

her shoulder. “But what if he has bewitched her? We all
know what Hades is capable of and what lengths he’ll go to,
to get what he wants.”

“That’s why you summoned the messenger isn’t it?

He’ll be able to retrieve her regardless.” Zeus nodded and
she sighed. “I think we should prepare ourselves though. I
have this feeling that Hades isn’t going to let this go. There
will be a fight.”

“Let him bring it,” said Zeus. “If he wants a fight, he will

get one and I promise you it is a fight he’ll lose.”

“I hope you’re right.” Demeter shifted in her spot and

turned to face Zeus. “The last thing this world needs is
another epic battle. We don’t want another war like the one
involving the Titans. Hades is a fighter.”

Zeus placed his hands on her shoulders and met her

gaze with an understanding look in his eyes. “That won’t
happen. For one, the Kraken has been dead for thousands
of years. Two, I honestly doubt that Hades will make that big
of a fuss over Persephone. He can have anyone he wants.
Why put up that much of a fuss for one Goddess?”

“To prove a point,” Demeter whispered. “Because I’d

kept her from him.”

“You need to swallow your doubts, Demi. I won’t let

anything bad happen. And you know Hades has never been
more powerful than me.”

She knew Zeus was right. After all it had been Zeus

who freed them from Cronos. Part of Hades built up anger
came from that. Demeter knew that Hades thought Zeus
had damned him to an eternity of misery, commanding the
dead while Zeus basked in the glory of running everything.
Even Poseidon was better off being the God of the Sea.

Demeter broke away from Zeus and sat down on the

marble steps in front of throne. Her eyes darted around the

massive room, stopping for a moment as she took in each
marble column. She’d missed her home. And it saddened
her that no one lived here anymore. The only time the Gods
used Mount Olympus was for meeting purposes.

Her attention averted to the far end of the room as

Hera, Hestia, and Poseidon strutted toward them. Zeus had
called a meeting into session with five of the six originals
without Hades knowledge. One; it was best that he be left
out of it because he might react brashly. Two all five of their
votes would override Hades sixth so there was nothing the
God of the Dead could do anyway.

There were twelve Gods and Goddesses in total that

attended most meetings, but for secretive meetings like
this one the others weren’t needed. The original immortals
made all of the final decisions no matter what the other’s
votes were. After all, they were created or offspring of the
originals themselves.

Hera extended her arms to Demeter and helped her

up. She stared at her lovingly and smoothed back a piece
of Demeter’s hair. “How are you holding up?” she asked,
her eyes full of concern.

Demeter exhaled. “As well as I can, I guess.”

Hera leaned and kissed her on the cheek before

taking a seat on her throne. “We’ll get her back.”

A half smile curled on Demeter’s lips. “I know.”

Minutes later all of the originals were seated on their

thrones while Zeus stood in front of his pacing. He stopped
mid-pace, staring at a demi-god on the opposite side of
the room. “Send in the messenger!” he boomed.

The Demi-God disappeared through the opening and

seconds later a tall, lean muscled man with ash-blonde hair
strolled toward Zeus. “You summoned me?” he questioned.

“Yes,” said Zeus. “Thank you for coming Hermes. We

have a mission for you.”

Persephone

After I’ve put on my new dress and thrown my hair up

into a high bun, I walk into my bedroom to see a plain black
box in the same spot where my dress was. Opening it in a
flash, I marvel at the crimson heels with ruby studs on the
sides. I hold them up against the fitted dress that hugs
every curve and cranny of my body. The heels are a perfect
match.

I slip them on and glide toward the floor-length mirror.

The red color against my skin brings out a pink hue in my
cheeks and my green eyes look even greener.

“You look breathtakingly beautiful,” Hades calls from

the door.

I glimpse over my shoulder at a dashing version of

death. Dressed from head to in black of course, but he’s
added a sliver or red to his ensemble with a crimson tie.
His shaggy hair is styled messy, slicked and spiked out in
various ways and he smells rustic a mixture of wood,

aftershave, and mint. He grins, circling me, and stops
inches in front of me, extending an arm. “Shall we?”

I beam exuberantly filled with excitement. “Are we

going somewhere?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.” Then I take his arm as he

guides me out into the hall.

For the first half the walk neither one of us speaks. The

only audible sound is my crimson heels clacking against
the marble floor. But right before Hades guides me into the
dining hall, he takes both of my hands in his and we face
each other.

“Even on off years when I wasn’t able to come to you,

I’ve been watching you,” he says. “I remember one time in
particular where you’d been sitting on your porch staring
longingly at a group of teens across the street from you as
they prepared for a dance mortal teenagers attend.”

“Mom never let me go to any mortal functions,” I say

softly.

“I’ve never been to one either,” he tells me. “So I

thought you’d enjoy it if we could go to one together.” He
steps away from me and yanks open the doors to the
dining hall and I gasp out in awe as my mouth gapes open.

Slowly, I slide forward, eyes stifling a look around the

gigantic room. The massive dining hall has been
transformed into a high school gymnasium with a glittering
disco ball spinning from the ceiling. A cleared spot that
serves as a dance floor. A full band on a platform
performing a slow ballad. Tiny lights dangle from spots in
the ceiling, twinkling. There are several circular tables
placed in various sections of the room and each table has
a red tablecloth. In the center of the table are matching
centerpieces complete with red roses, black roses, and
silver tinsel.

Emotion surges through me like a spark of electricity.

I’m a loose wire snapping into the air, shooting white volts.
Turning, I lock eyes with my captor. “You did all of this for
me?”

A small sincere smile crosses his lips. “Of course I did.

All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy here. All I’ve ever
wanted is for you to be happy with me. I don’t think you
understand that I never had any intentions of keeping you
here against your will. What I want more than anything is for
you stay because you want to.”

I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off. “Let me

finish.” He walks closer and takes my hands, gently
massaging my skin with his thumbs. Warmth drifts up my
arms and sears through my insides before it takes up
residence in my cheeks. “I will never hurt you and as long as

you’re with me you can have anything your heart desires.
You don’t even have to say what is. Just think it and it will be
yours.”

“You shouldn’t have done this.” I stutter, “It’s…It’s…”

He scrunches his bold, black eyebrows. “You don’t like

it?” He pulls out of my grasp. “It’s fine if you don’t like it, I’ll
have everything taken down. We can do something else.”

Hades raises his hand and I rush over to him lacing my

fingers through his. “No. That’s not what I meant.” I swallow
hard and stare at our interlocked hands. “I meant that you
shouldn’t have gone out of your way. I do like this. I love this.
The decorations, the band, everything. I’ve always wanted
to go to the mortals’ prom.”

“Oh.” Hades flashes me a brilliant smile and I think it’s

the first time I’ve ever seen him fully smile since I’ve been
here. And his perfect, white smile takes my breath away.
“Would you like to sit then?” I nod and he raises the
opposite hand and two chairs magically slide back from the
table. He helps me into my seat and then sits down next to
me. “Are you hungry?” He claps his hands and a
magnificent feast materializes before my eyes. Turkey.
Mashed potatoes. And all the trimmings. A lot like what the
humans eat on Thanksgiving.

A painful howl ripples through my abdomen. I’m

starving and I can’t even recall the last full meal I ate. But
mom’s voice bounces off the walls of my brain like a pinball
in a machine. “You cannot eat in the realm of the dead.”

My eyes center on sweet rolls in the middle of the table

dripping with hot butter. I fight off the urge to stuff one into
my mouth. “No,” I say weakly. “I’m not hungry.”

Hades fills his plate and stares at the empty one in

front of me. “If you eat this, you won’t be bound here. You
have my word.”

Even though he says I won’t be bound to this realm, I

still feel uneasy about eating. I still feel uneasy about him in
general. Sometimes he makes me feel the way Adonis
used to. Like a school girl with a crush. I smile when I think
of Adonis. This is the first time I’d thought about him since I
was pulled under. I wonder what he’s doing now. I wonder if
he showed up the next morning after my party to walk me to
school.

But there are other times where I feel like Hades is

putting on the best play of his long life. I can’t decide
whether he’s being sincere all of the time or only some of
the time and that keeps me questioning on whether I’ll stay
or not. So for now, I think its best that I don’t jump into a
situation with him that I don’t trust. “I’m really not hungry,” I
tell him. “Go ahead and enjoy your food.”

Another reason I don’t eat is because despite what he

says, I can’t help but feel like a tiny morsel of this meal will
separate me from my mom forever. And I miss her so much
as it is.

I watch Hades intensely as he eats and he doesn’t eat

how I expect a person of his age to eat. I guess I had this
vision of him inhaling the food, cramming as much food into
his mouth as possible with his hands, eager to ease the
hunger inside of him. But doesn’t eat like a savage. He
eats mannerly and he chews all of the muscles in his jaw
tighten and flex.

For a second I forget that I’m gawking at him until he

catches me. And suddenly, I’m embarrassed and upset
because I feel like I could stare at him for hours and never
want to look away. Lowering his fork, he picks up a black
napkin and wipes the corners of his mouth. “Is something
wrong?” he asks a worried look on his face.

“No.”

“Do I frighten you?” He seems like he wants me to be

afraid of him. Maybe that’s because he’s used to it. Most
people fear the reaper. Unfortunately for him, I’m not most
people.

“No,” I answer quickly. “But you could smile more often.

You’re beautiful when you smile.” I catch myself after the last

comment and clamp my jaw shut. I shouldn’t have said that.
I don’t want to give false hope in case I do decide to leave,
but I can’t help but feel more attached to him with every
second we spend together.

Inside I’m a Picasso painting. Scattered, deformed,

and messy. Bright colors splashed here and there. More
than anything I’m flustered and I know that I’m blushing. An
unsettling silence swirls around us. He smirks, studying my
face. I stare back at him, trying to think of words to break
the quiet, but I can’t think of anything. His radiant,
wandering eyes rip my tongue out. I’m mute. I wish I knew
sign language.

Hades starts to crack. He’s a tremor, rippling across

the ground, a miniscule fracture spreading vastly, tearing up
the soil. Then his mouth opens and the fracture widens. His
mouth is a crater and he smiles wide and laughs. A deep
booming laugh. A harmonious laugh that rings out and
makes me laugh in return. He extends his hand. “Come on.”

I take his hand and we rise from our chairs. “What are

we doing now?” I ask. Every time he makes a gesture I feel
like he has another surprise in store for me.

“I thought you might like to dance,” he muses.

I laugh. “You’re right. I would.”

In a flash, he vanishes and appears behind me, his

warm hands resting against my bare shoulders. His lips are
inch away from my earlobe. “Will you dance with me then,”
he whispers. And his whisper blows up inside of my head
like a monsoon sound system. He voice trickles from my
head into my throat before resting in my heart cavity.

“I will,” I say as his hands slide down my back and rest

on my waist. He spins me around to face him and I close
my eyes for a moment and when I open them we’re in the
middle of the dance floor swaying back and forth as the
band plays another ballad.

Lights flicker and dance across his face, highlighting

his high cheekbones as he pulls me closer, enveloping me
in his arms. “I didn’t think you’d be a good dancer,” I joke.

“Are you kidding? I’m an excellent dancer, but I will say

I’ve done a lot of improving in the last five thousand years,”
he says, dipping me backwards.

“Well, then you’ll have to forgive me if I step on your

toes,” I reply as he pulls me back up. “I’m afraid I don’t have
that much experience.”

He laughs. “You can step on my toes anytime you

want.” I smile and rest my head against his shoulder as he
wraps his arms around me tighter. I even feel him plant a
soft kiss on the top of my head. But I don’t care. This

moment is too perfect to interrupt.

I never thought that I’d be in an elaborately decorated

ballroom, at my own prom dancing with death himself. And I
never thought that I’d actually be falling for him.

Hades

At the end of the night Hades escorted Persephone

back to her room, said goodnight, and retired to his own
room. But he didn’t intend on actually staying in his room.
He waited until he was certain Persephone was sleeping
and walked back to her room.

Hades stood outside of her doorway watching her

sleep. Her soft breathing filled the room melodically and it
reminded him of a musician plucking the strings on a harp
and the soft look on her face reminded him of peace.

Today had gone exactly as he planned. Actually it had

gone better than he planned. He was pleased that he was
able to pull it off. He knew he had never been the romantic
type, but slowly when it came to Persephone he realized
that anything was possible.

She was the light to his darkness. The compassion to

his rage. The key to his heart. Point blank, Persephone was
everything to him.

The moment he first saw her ages ago he knew he

was attracted to her, but that attraction had blossomed into
something true and beautiful. Something he’d wanted his
whole life. Love.

Uncertainty throbbed inside of him as he walked down

the hall away from her room. Did she feel the same way
about him? He couldn’t be certain and that plagued the
mighty God.

There were moments earlier in the evening where he’d

thought she was looking at him with love or adoration. He
thought. There was no certainty because Hades didn’t
know anything about love. He couldn’t only base his
opinions on the way he felt in his gut. And the way he felt in
his gut was that maybe just maybe Persephone felt more
for him than she was prepared to admit. Maybe just maybe
she loved him in return.

Persephone

I set out on a mission the next morning. Back to the

control room I’d found when I’d first arrived. A vision of mom
came to me in my dreams and I had this urge to see her
consuming me since I’d woken up. Part of me hopes that
she’s feeling better, even though I know that’s probably not
the case. I think seeing her upset will put me back in my
place because ever since last night I can’t get over Hades
and how I might not want to leave him.

Repeating all the steps I had followed a few days

earlier, I smile at the sight of mom who is standing in front
of a window. She looks better, healthier. The color is back
in her cheeks and her face looks fuller, like she’s been
eating. She’s even wearing a tiny smile. The sight of her
smile makes me smile.

As I focus more intensely on her face I notice

something, she’s not at home. Wherever she is the walls
are bright, too bright, almost blinding in a way. I can’t make
out any more of the room she’s in. Where is she?

Suddenly, lights in the room come on and mom’s

picture cuts out. I twist around and Hades stands behind
me, his arms crossed, his back against the control panel.
“What are you doing?” he questions.

I exhale and my chest sinks. “Please don’t be mad. I

had to see her. I had to see my mom.”

“I’m not mad,” he says calmly. “How did you know

you’d be able to see her in this room?”

I explain to him how I’d stumbled across this room

when I’d first arrived and was curious about it so I explored
and was able to see mom after I’d first been taken.

He nods in an understanding way and sighs, “I could

have done better if you would have asked.”

I inch closer to him. “What do you mean you could have

done better?”

“I could have taken you to see her. In the flesh.”

“What? How?”

“You know I’m able to make myself and anyone else

with me invisible.”

“Oh. I forgot about that.” Then I snort, trying to keep the

laugh that’s stuck in my esophagus from coming up.

Hades tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes.

“What’s so funny?”

“I just thought you’d be angrier.”

He smirks. “At this?” He shakes his head. “You

sneaking in to the control room is nothing that would make
me mad. Besides, you haven’t even seen my real temper.
And that’s something I hope you’ll never have to see.”

Vivid flashbacks of our moment in the hall resurface. If

that wasn’t real temper, then he’s right, I don’t want see it.

We walk down the hall and arrive at the front doors to

the palace. Hades yanks open one of the large cast iron
doors. “Well how is she?”

“Who?” I ask, puzzled. “My mom?”

He nods.

“She looks much better.”

“Good. Then we can get going without you being

distracted.”

I smile, excited that he has another surprise in store for

me. “Where are we going?”

“Now I’m sure you know I’m not going to tell you.”

The vast wasteland of the underworld lies in front of me

and sucks all the joy out of me. It makes me feel like the
Grinch minus Christmas. All I need is a village full of tiny
people with sloped button noses and oblong hairstyles to
terrorize. Stay or go. Stay or go. If I stay down here with
Hades I’ll consumed by an eternity of dull, drab grey skies,
thick smog, and sadness. There is nothing happy or joyous
about death. It may put an end to a person’s suffering
especially if they have a fatal disease, but what if they didn’t
lead a good life? They’d suffer during their life and they’d
suffer forever after they died. And what if I have to aid
Hades in giving them their final judgment? I’m not sure if I
can handle that.

There is still a part of me that wants to stay. I glimpse

at Hades next to me and a small smile curls on his plush
lips. My insides crack and fizzle like I’ve just swallowed a
mouthful of pop rocks. The affection I feel for him grows as
each day passes and he’s the only reason I’d consider
staying. And I don’t know if that’s a good enough reason.

“Come here,” he says softly.

I creep closer like a starfish on a sandy beach being

lured back into the ocean by the tide. Hades is the water
and as soon as he touches me my tentacles will come
alive. I want to be suctioned to him, to latch on to him as
long as I have to. He pulls me close and I inhale his musky
scent. A smell that I hope I’ll never forget; whether I stay or
go. He covers me with his arms. I feel warm. He’s my down
comforter. He’ll never let me freeze. “Close your eyes,” he
tells me.

Time whirls around us. We’re in the middle of a

cyclone. Spinning in circles and despite the dangerous
situation I know I’ll be safe. He will always keep me safe.
He clutches me tighter to his chest, the muscles in his arms
clench and for a brief moment I feel like I belong here.
Wrapped up in a tangle of his limbs for all of eternity.

Then he releases me and part of me aches. I ache in

spots where his fingers just were. The spots throb like fresh
bruises and won’t quit until he puts pressure on them.
Rushing water whooshes and fills my ears and I spin
around thinking he might have brought me to a beach or
something. Depression sails through me like a Jet Ski
bouncing around on waves when I realize we’re back at the
dock on the Styx.

The brownish green water splashes against the dock

and I center on fog that hovers above the water. Hades
senses that I might be upset and brushes his fingers
against my face. “You look upset,” he says in a voice full of

gentleness. “Is something bothering you?”

I can’t understand why his touch feels cold yet warm at

the same time. “Is it always so bleak and depressing down
here?”

“You get used to it.”

I feel like I’m glancing at plains of misery, an up close

and personal version of what death is supposed to look
like. “I don’t think I could ever get used to this,” I say. “I’d
miss the sunshine too much. I’d miss watching things live.”

Hades drops his hand from my face. “Just wait,” he

comments. “There is so much more of the underworld that
you have yet to see.”

The ferry appears next to the dock and Charon hangs

over the side. “Master,” he hisses. Hades takes one hand
and Charon takes the other as they help me onto the boat.
My eyes dart across the rows of wooden benches until I
center on the wooden bench in the back right corner of the
boat. I sit down as Hades appears on the bench across
from me. Then Charon begins working the oars as I stare
off into the choppy waters of the river of death.

Fifteen minutes into the ride and I can feel Hades eyes

on me. He’s staring, a thoughtful look in his eye. “So why
did we have to take the ferry?” I face him. “Couldn’t you

have just whisked us there yourself?”

“Yes,” he says, still penetrating me with his gaze. “But

then I don’t think the shock value will be as good.”

“Shock value?” He smiles and my heart picks up

beating rapidly. “You know you should do that more often.”

“Do what?”

“Smile.” His smile is beautiful, clouds parting during a

thunderstorm to reveal a sliver of sunshine.

He smiles wider. “I’ll try to.”

I look away bashfully as heat rises in my cheeks. I’m at

a loss for words. Truthfully I just want to stare at him. I want
to feel the tiny smolder I get in the pit of my stomach every
time I look into his eyes. Instead I play it off casually and
nod toward Charon. “How come he knows where we’re
going?”

“He’s the captain of the boat. We wouldn’t be able to

go anywhere if he didn’t know where we were going.”

“Oh.” I look down, feeling silly. Embarrassed I play with

my fingers and apparently Hades thinks my attempt at
being coy is funny because he starts laughing.

I don’t think it’s funny. In fact his laughter makes me

angry. I stand, wagging my finger, prepared to give him a
piece of my mind when the boat rocks and I topple over,
tumbling to the opposite side. Just when I think I’m about to
go overboard and land in the murky waters, Hades catches
me, clutching onto my waist tightly. I turn my head,
awkwardly and my lips are centimeters away from his. Any
slight movement and they’ll be touching. His eyes dart
across my face, searching, studying my features. He’s
trying to figure me out.

Bewildered, I steady myself sitting up, and try to make

a joke, “Nice catch.”

As I turn to walk back to my bench he whispers

something. The soft words are barely audible, but I’m pretty
sure I made out what he said. I could have sworn he said,
“Come back.”

I pirouette and gawk at him. “What did you say?”

“Nothing.” I know he’s lying.

“No, I heard you. You said something.” He said, “Come

back.” I am sure of it.

“I think you are hearing things. I didn’t say anything.”

I narrow my eyes trying to keep a straight face. I’m

actually flattered that he wanted me to stay in his arms.
Right now that’s the only place I want to be. “You said
something. I have excellent hearing, you know.”

He glances out into the waters of the Styx. “Perhaps

you heard a soul whispering into your ear.”

I know all too well about the souls down here and their

activities. “Maybe.”

A smile curls on my lips as I sit back down. Maybe he’s

trying to seem aloof on purpose. That way if I do decide to
go back to earth, he’ll be able to mask the amount of pain
he’ll feel when I leave. If he feels anything for me at all. He
said he did, but he could be lying about that too. Hades is
the ultimate illusionist; I know he’s a pro at masking his
emotions.

He moves over, sitting down next to me. I jump, startled

by his sudden arrival. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to
scare you.”

“It’s fine. I just didn’t expect you to come over here.”

“Do you want me to move?”

“No,” I answer, lacing my arm through his. “Stay.” His

skin is freezing, but I don’t move my arm. We’re a linked
chain welded and melted together. Not even a pair of

needle nose pliers can tear us apart.

From the way he’s looking at me, I can tell he’s holding

something back. He studies my face again, reaching out to
graze his fingertips over my cheek, but at the same time the
boat stops and that’s when I feel it. It travels down my neck
and shoots through my skin like a piercing wail blasting
through a person’s eardrums. I turn slowly, using my arm to
shield my face as the brightness burns in my eyes. “Is that
what I think it is?”

Hades nods. “Yes.”

It’s sunlight. I close my eyes and bask in the warmth. I

think of the beach and spring and the smell of wildflowers
and suddenly this place isn’t so dark and gloomy after all.
“Why did you bring me here?”

“Because I knew how much you’d enjoy it.”

“Is that sunlight?” I squeal in delight.

“Yes, that’s sunlight. This is the only place in the realm

of the dead where it shines,” he answers.

I don’t even bother to open my eyes. “What’s this place

called?” My voice is full of curiosity and excitement.

Hades rests his chin on my shoulder. “This is the place

where the truly good mortals and hero’s go after they leave
earth. This place is called The Elysian Fields.”

I open my eyes, staring out into potentially one of the

most beautiful places I’ve ever seen in all of my five
thousand years living. I shoot up out of my seat, running
toward the exit. I’ve spent enough time down here,
drowning in darkness. It’s about time that I step out of the
shadows and into the light.

Persephone

An overwhelming sense of joy floods through me as I

run my fingers over the long swaying grass in the Elysian
Fields. Hades assured me that there was actually a city
several miles away, but visiting the city would be a different
trip for a different day.

The sunlight bleeds through my pores, spreading

through my entire body. It’s like an infection I want to keep
eternally. I turn, letting a gust of wind tousle my hair as a
light floral smell creeps up my nostrils. I inhale deeply as
freesia and daffodils invade my nose and remind me of a
meadow behind my house back in Oregon. The enticing
scent—for some odd reason—reminds me of the day
Hades took me.

Thinking of Hades has me wondering something;

where is he? I haven’t seen him since he brought me here
and I’m both hurt and angry that he isn’t here sharing this
beautiful scene with me. Pivoting, I scan the field. He’s not
even lingering off to the side somewhere watching me like

he usually is. It’s like he’s vanished into thin air—another
one of his annoying parlor tricks. I sprint through the field
and call out for him, “Hades!” I push aside plants, look
under rocks, search behind a slew of the various trees, but
can’t find him anywhere.

I run harder and faster, desperate to find him. When

Hades first took me, I swore to the God’s that I would loathe
him for the rest of my immortal life. But things have
changed. My feelings for him have changed. Now I miss
him when he’s not around. I want to be near him at all times.
I’m finally able to look past his cold demeanor and find
warmth in him. His smile makes me want to smile. His icy
touch makes me shiver in a good way and I want him to
hold me, touch me, and kiss me. I want to be wrapped in
his arms for the rest of eternity and that could only mean
one thing: I think I might be in love with him.

I know what he is; the pied piper of death and

depravity, playing his flute as an army of the dead trails
behind him. I’m in that army marching in line and I will follow
him anywhere.

I’ve never been in love before, so I’m not one hundred

percent sure how to classify the way I feel about Hades, but
it has to be love. It just has to be. The incessant longing,
and fire smoldering inside of me like the crackling embers
in a fireplace has to be love.

On the boat earlier, was the first time I recognized a

growing adoration for him. Right after he caught me and
saved me from falling over the edge. Gazing into his eyes, I
knew that I couldn’t leave this underworld without him. I
won’t leave this world without him.

Panic hits me like a marble column. I still can’t find him

and he’s not answering me when I call out for him. I’ve been
running for what feels like years and there is no sign of him.
Tears swell in my eyes and a gaping hole burrows into my
heart. The hole stretches and expands like a black abyss
and suddenly I feel like I can’t breathe. Why would he leave
me out here all alone when he knew I’d enjoy it so much?
Wouldn’t he want to share this blissful experience with me?
Looking over my shoulder, I pick up speed, charging
forward and smack into what feels like a wall. I hit the wall
hard and fall backward onto the ground.

A gentle breeze whips around me and the sunlight

burns into my eyes, blinding me. For the first time ever, in
my immortal life I loathe the sun. I loathe it because I can’t
see what I ran into. I squint as my eyes adjust to the light
and a hand appears inches away from my face. Taking the
hand, I hoist myself to my feet and Hades stands in front of
me, eyeing me oddly. He’s curious, but his look softens
when he gazes into my eyes and a nervous tingle flutters
around in the pit of my stomach. My cheeks burn from the
sun and from anxiety and I’m not sure how to speak to him.
Somehow everything about him felt better when I was

thinking and not acting on my feelings. It was also easier
when I disliked him. Now all I can do is gawk. All I can do is
stand here gazing at him adoringly like a lovesick fool.

All of a sudden a volt of anger snaps through my like a

loose wire. Why do I always have to be the one who’s
speaking her mind? I’m sick of doing all the talking. Why
can’t he just open up to me? Why can’t he just tell me how
he feels?

“You should watch where you’re going?” he says in a

somber tone.

“I’m sorry for running into you,” I manage, trying to keep

calm.

“It’s fine,” he booms. His voice is seductive, deep and

beautiful. “What exactly were you doing?”

The comment makes me snap back to reality. “Excuse

me?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Were you looking for

something?”

Yes, you. That’s what I really want to say. Instead, I put

on a bright smile and lie. “I was just enjoying the sunshine.”

I’m not sure if he can tell whether I was being truthful or

not. Then a tiny smile spreads across his lips. “I’m glad you
like it here.” He turns abruptly and walks in the opposite
direction.

Where is he going? An instant pain shoots through my

heart. “Don’t leave,” I utter, softly. I don’t know if he heard
me, but at this point I don’t care.

He stops, his back still facing me, and peers casually

over his shoulder. “Did you say something?”

“Yes. I said don’t leave.” I can’t lie anymore. I can’t

pretend that I want to go back to earth when I care for him
so much more than the sun in the sky, the flowers growing
in fields and the smell of clean air. I step toward him and
brush my fingers over his shoulder. “Why are you leaving?”

His reaction to my touch startles me. His entire body

stiffens. Then he turns and faces me. “I just thought this
would be something you’d like to enjoy alone. I know how
much you miss the earth and the sun,” he tells me.

But he’s wrong. I’d much rather enjoy all of this with

him. “Why don’t you stay out here and enjoy this with me?”

He remains in his spot and doesn’t move. Secretly, I

wish he would have jumped at the opportunity to spend the
day with me, but he’s doing the exact opposite and it hurts.
His actions cut deep like a butcher knife through the

shoulder blade. I touch him again and he jumps. He’s acting
like my touch repulses him and I don’t understand. He’s so
hot and cold. One minute I think he feels the same way
about me and the next he’s doing what he’s doing now.
“Why would you bring me out here if you didn’t want to
share it with me?”

Now I am determined to get to the bottom of this. Why

in the name of the God’s did he take me if he’s spurned by
my touch? And what about yesterday? Yesterday was
beautiful. Yesterday was perfect. How could he go from that
to this? He doesn’t answer my question. I stare at him,
crossing my arms. “Well?”

He still doesn’t answer.

He’s obviously distracted. He’s somewhere else and

from the look in his eye I can tell he wants to be anywhere,
but here—with me. I can feel the tears welling in my eyes,
but I suck them back and lower my voice. “Give me an
answer.”

He gives me a vague answer. “I thought you would

enjoy it.” He’s not even looking at me. He’s staring past me
at the swaying grass in the open field.

A mixture of emotions swirl around inside of me and I

know it’s only a matter of time before anger becomes the
front-runner. I don’t want to be here anymore. The home-like

feeling has vanished. The want of feeling the sun against
my skin has vanished. I need to get out of here before this
turns into a screaming match and I say thing I know I’ll
regret. “Take me back.”

“I thought you were enjoying yourself?” he asks as a

confused expression stretches over his face.

“I was enjoying myself. Now I want to go back,” I

answer him with force. Then I storm past him, marching to
the boat. There’s a part of me that wants to run back to him.
A part of me that wants to crash into his arms and tell him
everything I’m feeling. But I don’t because I’m nervous and
frightened and I can’t help but feel like I’m swimming in
uncharted waters.

Ever since we fled Greece I’d always felt like I’d lead a

loveless life. I couldn’t date the mortals and no Olympians
appealed to me. Adonis is only the tenth boy I’ve ever had a
crush on in all my years of living. I have no idea what to do,
say, or how to act when it comes to a relationship. To me,
love is as terrifying and mysterious as the murky waters of
the Styx.

Also, I’ve never been around a couple who is actually

in love. My parents had never been together, so I’ve never
seen them show affection toward each other. I have
absolutely nothing to go off of. I am running blind.

I once heard someone say that love comes naturally.

Well if it comes so naturally, why is Hades making it so
damn difficult? Perhaps he hasn’t been in love either. I
laugh out loud at my ridiculous assumption. Of course he
has been in love what am I thinking? He has to have been.
He’s a God; he can have any woman he wants. I imagine
that through the centuries he’s had many lovers or
relationships. After thinking about that I go back to the
same question I’ve asked myself at least a dozen times.
Why does he want me, then? I know he wants me to be his
companion, ruling the realm of the dead alongside him. But
for some odd reason I don’t think he’d chase me for all this
time if that was his only purpose. Hades doesn’t strike me
as the type of God who has an unintended purpose for
doing something.

After going over my theories I know the only way I’m

going to get any real answers is if I ask him directly. So I
stop and turn around only to discover that he’s not behind
me. He’s vanished again. It shouldn’t shock me that he’s
evaporated into thin air for what feels like the millionth time.
But it does. It seems to me that he always chooses the
worst times to disappear.

During that second, I find myself feeling empty. My

eyes sweep over the abandoned field as tears spill onto my
cheeks. Why is he doing this to me? That’s the only thing
going through my mind. I think about throwing myself onto
the ground and letting every tear that I ever cried pour out of

me. But as I suck back my tears and turn on my heel, I see
him, standing directly in front of me, blocking my path. I
quickly wipe my tears away before he can notice, but I’m
too late.

He gazes at me, a flicker of concern in his eyes. “Is

something wrong?”

He’s always asking me that; is something wrong?

Yes!

You! You’re what’s wrong!

Rage replaces the hurt and pain and I feel like a wild

stallion. I am unglued—unhinged—and nothing or no one
can keep me from breaking free. And I feel crazy too. The
rage inside of me is making me crazy. “What’s wrong with
you?” I snap. “Why do you keep doing that?” I walk toward
him and ram my finger into his chest. “Why are you playing
games with me? I told you, I hate games!”

A look of complete shock spreads across Hades

calm, collected face. But he doesn’t move. “Doing what?
What is wrong with you? I am not playing games.”

“You’re always appearing and reappearing! Always

hot and cold! And you’re moody, too!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Moody?” He looks around me,

staring at the ferry. “You make it sound like I’m a woman.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing if you are one.”

I slant my eyes, folding my arms across my chest. I’m

fed up with his antics and the only thing I can think about is
getting away from him. I brush past him and bump into his
shoulder, making my way back to the ferry. Part of me is
tempted to say one last thing, but when I turn and open my
mouth my chest sinks. He’s gone.

Charon helps me onto the ferry and I take the same

seat in the back that I took on the way to the Elysian Fields.
Exhaling, I glance out into the murky waters as the plunking
from the wooden oars slapping against the water infiltrates
me ears. The sound soothes me and smothers the anger
inside of me. I stare at Charon’s back. “Where did he go?”

“Master had duties to attend to,” he replies with a

raspy drawl.

Figures. His duties come first. That’s how it will always

be and I don’t know if I can handle that. I don’t know if I’ll be
able to play second fiddle to his realm. I know it sounds
selfish, but I want someone who has the time to spend with
me. Someone who will lie with me underneath the stars and
talk with me about anything and everything. I want us to be
able to spend eternity devoted to each other.

And that’s something Hades and I will never be able to

do.

A tear trickles down my cheek and I feel part of my love

for Hades slide down my cheek with the tear. Then I begin
sobbing, sobbing so hard an ache ripples through my
ribcage and I have to stop and catch my breath. If loving
someone else makes you feel like this all the time I’m not
sure if it’s something I want. I’ve never felt more confused or
hopeless in my entire life. Is this what my future has in store
for me? Am I destined to spend eternity with a cold God
who covets me, but doesn’t love me back? My sobbing
escalates and I’m crying so hard I have to lean over the
side of the ferry. There’s nothing in my stomach, but I throw
up anyway, yellow bile and a clear liquid that tastes like
sulfur.

“Are you okay, miss?” Charon shouts.

My voice trembles and I swallow the acidy after-taste.

“Fine.”

Right now, the only person I want or need is my mom.

She’d know exactly what to say to make feel better. But
she’s not here and who knows where she is.

Demeter

Demeter strolled along a sandy beach, kicking up

sand and reminiscing about the summers she’d take
Persephone to this very spot as a child. The memory of
Persephone as a cherub-cheeked toddler, waddling
through crystal blue waves panged her heart and she had to
clutch her chest to keep the pain at bay.

“Come back!”

Demeter perked up at the sound of a female voice and

glanced down as a child hobbled toward her, legs chubby,
steps wobbly.

The mother ran after the child who was heading toward

the ocean and Demeter intervened, sweeping the child up
in her arms before he could make it to the water. “And
where did you think you were going?” Demeter cooed as
the child let out an infantile giggle.

The mother reached them, winded and held her hands

out, reaching for her son. “Thank you so much,” she said in
between breaths. “I only turned my back for a second.

Demeter handed the child over with a smile, but as

soon as she did, she felt her sadness return. Not only was
she the Goddess of the Harvest, but she was the Goddess
of Fertility as well, so she had a soft spot for mothers and
their children. “No problem.” The mother patted her child’s
back and kissed his cheeks. “All it takes is a second,
though.” That comment reminded her of the day her
daughter was taken. She’d only dropped her guard for a
second and she was gone.

“I know,” said the woman. “What’s your name? I’d like

to thank you properly.”

“Demi.” That’s the name Demeter gave to the mortals

on most occasions.

The mother extended her hand. “Metaneira. Mettie for

short.” Demeter took her hand and shook it. “Thank you
Demeter,” said Mettie. “From the bottom of my heart.”

“Anytime,” Demeter replied and watched Mettie and

the child as they walked farther down the beach.

Later on, Demeter sat on a jagged rock, watching as

the crystalline aqua waves of the Aegean crashed into the
dusky sand. She closed her eyes and exhaled, swearing

she could hear Persephone’s laugh echoing on the wind. It
was an illusion of course, but Demeter swore that even
though she and her child were apart that there would always
be a little piece of Persephone with her at all times.

A whooshing sound pulled Demeter from her thoughts

and she opened her eyes abruptly. Just in time to notice an
eagle, magnificent and majestic soaring through the pale
blue sky. The eagle nose-dived and curled up before slowly
fluttering its wings and landing at her feet.

A smile tugged at her lips. “Hello, Zeus,” she said to

the eagle.

A nano-second later the eagle transformed and Zeus

stood before Demeter with his hands on his hips. “How did
you know it was me?” he boomed with a smirk.

Demeter laughed. “Did you actually think I’d forget that

an eagle is your transformation animal of choice?”

“No,” Zeus said with a chuckle and sat down next to

Demeter. He placed his hand on her back and gently
rubbed her shoulder blades. “How are you doing?”

Demeter turned a cheek in each direction. She was

being cautious. Hera had been known to follow Zeus to
catch him in scandalous situations. When she realized they
were in the clear Demeter sighed and said, “As good as I

can be I guess. I’m just really nervous and worried.”

“What for?”

She looked Zeus in the eye and swore she could see

the waves of the Aegean crashing in his navy blue eyes.
“What if Hermes fails? What if Hades puts up a fight? I just
have this bad feeling that something is going to go wrong.”

“What could possibly go wrong?”

“I don’t know. I think we both know that when it comes

to Hades realm anything and everything is possible.

Zeus wrapped a massive arm around Demeter’s

shoulder and hugged her close. “You need to trust me. I told
you we’d get her back and we will.” Demeter placed her
head on Zeus’s shoulder. “Hermes has been in and out of
the underworld millions of times through the centuries. He
will retrieve her.”

“I know that,” Demeter said with a sigh.

“Then what are you so worried about?”

“Look,” she started, “We both know Hades and what

he’s willing to go to get what he wants. I just think he’ll try
something drastic and our plan might backfire.”

“And you think I didn’t know that?”

Demeter lifted her head slightly meeting Zeus’s gaze.

“You have a back-up plan?”

“It’s more than a back-up plan,” Zeus said. “It’s a war.”

Persephone

After Charon dropped me off, I found my way back to

the castle.

Inside, I ram my back into the front door, sliding down

until my butt touches the cold marble floor. The hard and icy
marble sends a chill through me. I’m frozen inside, trapped
in a block of ice. I’m pounding and pounding and pounding
praying to shatter the slick walls with my fists. But I can’t get
out and no matter how loud I scream there’s no one around
to help me. I’m alone.

For the second half of the ferry ride, my tears had dried

up. I got distracted watching the choppy waters of the Styx
swish back and forth. The waters reminded me of the ferry I
was on. It rocked against the current, making me think of
my relationship with Hades as a ferry ride. During that
moment it was filling me with motion sickness.

Now, I bury my head in my hands and wail, hugging

myself. Alone. Alone. Alone. Even when I’m with him, I won’t

really be with him. I’ll be here while he’s out doing what he
does and the thought of that expands into a black abyss
covering every organ inside of me. Pretty soon I’ll be
nothing. Just a hollow shell of a Goddess that used to be.

My chest vibrates as the sobs turn into howls and I

squeeze myself tighter. I need to keep myself together. This
is not me. And I can’t remember when I became this weak.
Sniffling and using the heels of my hands, I wipe the tears
from my eyes. Then using the door as a crutch, I stand. I
don’t know where to go or what to do, but I know there’s an
incessant pain inching its way toward my heart and the pain
is seconds away from plunging deep into the core of my
thumping organ.

I need to sleep. It’s weird, but I feel like sleep with

make me feel better. Sleep will clear my head and
eliminate the fog that’s been filling up in my brain all day.
And just as I push myself away from the door, I hear them.
Voices. Two voices. And I know I’ll want to hear what they
have to say. Placing my ear against the door, I realize I’m
eavesdropping on a conversation between Hades and
Charon.

“So you returned her safely?” Hades asks.

“Yes master,” Charon answers.

“Many thanks, Charon. You are a trusting and loyal

servant.”

Footsteps scuffle against the cement walkway and I

back away from the door in case Hades or Charon opens
it. It’s probably Hades though. Even though I haven’t been
here that long, I know that Charon rarely comes into the
palace. He spends all of his time on that stupid ferry.

“What did you do to her, master?” Charon blurts out.

The footsteps cut out and I hear a shuffle. “What do you

mean what did I do to her?” Charon isn’t challenging Hades
authority. He simply wants to know what Hades had done to
offend me. “Well, go on,” Hades urges him.

“I didn’t ask her what was wrong but, she mumbled

your name a few times on the way back. And she was
crying master, heavily crying.”

“I don’t recall doing anything.” That’s because he didn’t

do anything. He stood there like a moron and did absolutely
nothing.

“She was certainly upset about something.”

“But she’s safe.”

“Yes.”

Well at least he cares about my safety.

The doorknob jiggles and I back away from the door

and Hades freezes at the same time touching me with his
eyes. I can feel them all over me. I can feel them peeling
away the layers of my clothes, the layers of my skin. He can
see my muscles. He can see all of me. He closes the door
without breaking his gaze. “Were you eavesdropping?”

“No.” Of course I was.

He purses his lips and narrows his eyes. “Tell me the

truth.”

“Okay maybe I was.”

“Is what Charon said true then?”

“About?”

“Were you crying?”

“No.” And I will never admit to him that I was. Even

though there’s probably evidence on my face; tearstained
cheeks. Red, puffy eyes. Still, I keep a hard look on my
face. I do not want him to know that I was crying. Much less
crying over him. There’s a vacant expression on his face,
but his eyebrows are drawn together. A flicker of emotion

sparks in his eyes and I can he wants to say something. But
he says nothing and once again I feel like I’m being
swallowed by a black cloud of nothingness. It’s expanding.
The emptiness is spreading. I have to get away from him
before emptiness swallows me and rips at me, eating me
alive.

I turn, but before I can spin all the way around Hades

clutches my arm and whirls me around to face him. He pulls
me close and I taste his sweet breath. “You don’t know how
long I’ve wanted this,” he murmurs.

“What?”

“This.” Suddenly he cups the back of my neck and

smothers my mouth with his and for a second I don’t know
what to do. The kiss is awkward and I feel like I’m doing
everything wrong. Then almost instinctively my lips part and
the kissing intensifies and everything becomes a blur.
Colors whirl around me and whiz past me. Bright colors.
Bold colors. Red’s, Orange’s. Even Hot pink’s. The room is
spinning in circles and I think I might be floating. He gently
caresses his tongue with mine and I go from floating to
soaring. I’m a bird. I’m flying, flapping my wings as I sweep
through miles of endless blue. I hope I never come down.

And I feel myself falling, crashing down to reality when

he pulls out of the kiss. “Don’t stop,” I whisper. Never stop.
Never ever stop. I’m sick. I think I have the flu and his kiss,

his touch—he is my antibiotic. He will cure me. He will
make me well again.

“Believe me, I didn’t want to.” He places his forehead

against mine and sighs, “But there is someone at the door.

It’s still crazy to me how he can sense things. Or the

way he knows things. It’s like his mind is a radio, picking up
every wave-length on the planet. Less than a second later,
Charon peaks his head through the front door with an
urgent look in his eye. “Master, I need to speak with you.”

Hades keeps his forehead against mine. “It can wait.”

“No,” Charon insists. “It can’t.”

As Hades backs away from me I feel like he’s

removing a part of my immortal soul. My arms are
outstretched. My fingers are needy. I can’t think of anything,
but his lips and how I want them on mine again. His touch
and how with even the smallest brush from his fingertips I
feel like he’s scorching my bare skin. And the way he looks
at me, like he’s undressing me with his eyes. “I’ll be right
back,” he tells me. And as walks out the door I wonder how
many times I’ll have to hear “I’ll be right back” through the
lengths of eternity.

Hades

“What is it?” Hades growled as the ferry man. “What is

so important that you had to drag me away from her?”

An annoyed knot tied itself in the pit of the mighty

God’s stomach and if Charon didn’t start talking ASAP, that
knot would change from annoyance to rage.

Charon was nervous; Hades could tell by the way he

played with his fingers and the way he kept glancing warily
over his shoulder. “Someone is trying to cross,” he finally
said.

“Well, who is it?” Hades demanded. It was very rare

that a mortal tried to cross into the realm of the dead while
they were still, well, mortal. In fact, Hades knew the last time
that happened was when Orpheus tried to retrieve
Eurydice. And a wicked smirk curled on his lips when he
thought about that moment. Orpheus failed…miserably.

“Hermes,” Charon hissed as panic etched across his

crinkled up facial features.

“Hermes,” Hades repeated, robotically.

“Yes. Hermes.”

The pit of annoyance in Hades stomach turned to

desperation. He knew that Hermes was sent by Zeus to
retrieve his beloved. And he knew that even if he put up a
fight the Messenger of the Gods was too quick and too
nimble for Hades to catch. He was smarter than Hermes,
but learning of his presence put his head in a fog. He
couldn’t think straight which was very unlike him. And the
fact that his cunning and quick witted nature had him
stumped, frightened him. But it didn’t frighten him as much
as the thought of losing her, Persephone.

Hades focused on the ground, a white asphodel

blurred in his vision and in that moment Hades knew what
he had to do. “Charon?” he said lifting his eyes to the ferry
man’s.

“Yes, sire,” Charon said obediently.

“Can you stall Hermes a while longer?”

“I can try, sire.”

“I only need about twenty minutes.” Then in a cloud of

black smoke Hades vanished, appearing in his dining hall.
In the center of the table was one pomegranate and he
knew that if he could get her to eat it, poor Hermes would
have some explaining to do and also would have wasted a
trip.

Hades shoved the plump fruit into a pocket of his cloak

and appeared in front of Persephone’s door. He rested his
ear against the heavy wood and heard her shuffling about
inside. His time was limited. Extremely limited because he
knew Charon and his greedy nature. And he also knew that
Hermes always came prepared, toting a sandwich bag full
of coins.

Persephone

I still feel like I’m floating as I flop backwards onto my

bed. My lips are raw and pink and I close my eyes, outlining
them with my finger. I swear I can still feel his lips on mine.
The illusion of it feels so real my mouth throbs with heat.

There’s knock at the door and Hades opens it slowly

and my heart leaps almost plummeting through my skin. A
burst of joy sweeps through me and I beam at him. He’s not
all coldness and death. He’s not the devil or the
commander of the dead. He’s someone beautiful and
warm. Someone most girls wait their whole lives for, and in
my case practically an eternity. He fills me up with light and
happiness and love. And that’s something I’ll never be
willing to give up.

He plops down on my bed and I scoot closer, noticing

the pained look he’s wearing on his face. I lace my fingers
through his and his touch sends a jolt throughout my entire
body. He kisses my fingers then gazes deeply into my
eyes. “Is something wrong?” I’m concerned and I wonder if I

did something to make him so upset. Maybe it was the
kiss. I thought it was amazing, but that’s because I’d never
really kissed a guy before much less a God.

“You have to leave,” he says sullenly and looks away

from me.

“What?” I gasp, gripping onto his fingers. “What are

you talking about?”

“Hermes.” His voice is full of sadness and defeat.

“He’s been sent here to retrieve you.”

“Oh no.” I look down at hands and feel the severity of

the situation as it sets in. My mom and Zeus must have sent
the mighty messenger, knowing that he’d be the only one
who’d be able to get me back. Grief squeezes my heart
when I think about going back now. I don’t want to go back. I
made my mental decision after our kiss. There is no way I
can leave. I belong here. I want to rot in hell eternally on a
throne of shadows and death with Hades by my side. I want
to be his queen. “There has to be something we can do,” I
say. “Don’t you have a plan or something?”

Hades pushes me back on the bed, resting half on top

of me. His eyes sweep over my face and he traces my
jawline with a finger before brushing back a loose piece of
my hair. “I have a plan,” he muses softly. “But that’s only if
you want to participate in it.”

My face is burning and my lips tingle. My arms and

legs are shaking so profusely with want for his lips on mine
that I feel like every part of me is charred. My organs are
shriveling up and turning to ash. They’ll blow away with one
gentle gust of wind if he doesn’t give me what I want. But he
does. He glides his lips over mine. Kissing me softly.
Sensually.

The kiss doesn’t last very long and I’m greedy. I’m a

masked bandit on a train, shoveling piles of cash into a
pillow case. I want more. I need more. Just a little bit will
never be enough. A tiny brush from his lips will never be
enough. “Do it again,” I whisper, breathless.

“What?” he smirks. “This?” He crushes his lips into

mine and this time the kiss is deeper, passionate, and
exhilarating. Before I realize what I’m doing my hands are in
his hair and he’s sliding his fingers up my shirt. I can feel his
heart pounding against my chest. Two hearts beating in
sync. We’re breathless and tangled in lustful embrace,
neither one of us wants to be pried away from each other.

He hovers above me breathless and a pang of want

circles my heart. “Why did you stop?”

“We’re out of time,” he says.

“No.” We can’t be. Even if Hermes is here it will still

take him time to pay Charon and cross the Styx.

I try to draw him closer, but he pulls away from me,

sitting on the edge of the bed. “Hermes got here before I
came to your room. He’ll be blasting through that door any
minute.”

“He knows where my room is?”

“He knows where every room in the palace is. He’s

been here millions of times. He has the layout memorized.”

“What about your plan?” I ask perking up. “You said

you had one. What is it?”

Hades shakes his head and stares off. “Forget it,” he

mutters as he runs one of his hands through his midnight
locks.

“Tell me,” I demand.

He reaches into the pocket of his cloak and pulls out a

red, round pomegranate. He spins the fruit around and
stares at it intensely. “You haven’t eaten since you’ve been
here.” He palms the fruit and shoves it back into his pocket.
“Before I came in here I thought about tricking you into
eating somehow,” he admits. “But I can’t.” He places his
hand against my cheek then lets out a soft tortured laugh.

“You mean too much to me and now I know that I can’t
make you eat it. Especially if you don’t want to.”

“I mean too much to you,” I repeat softly as an

explosion of delight thunders in my chest. “I—I.” I can’t find
words to describe the way hearing him say that makes me
feel.

“You mean everything to me,” he announces. “I love

you. I have loved you for centruries and centuries. Why do
you think I’ve chased you for all this time?”

In one swift motion, I reach across his chest and snatch

the pomegranate from his pocket. “I love you too.” I bite into
the fruit and chew slowly savoring the sweet juice and bitter
skin. “And I can’t imagine an eternity without you.”

He lunges for my mouth and trails his tongue along my

lips licking up some of the dripping pomegranate juice. “Do
you know how long I’ve waited to hear that?” he asks with a
smile.

I laugh and take another bit of the fruit. “Practically

forever,” I say with a mouthful.

More juice drips down my chin and Hades wipes it

away with one finger before putting his finger in his mouth.
“It’s sweet. Like you.”

I laugh again and swallow the chewed up fruit in my

mouth then take another huge bite. After swallowing what
I’ve got in my mouth the door flies open and Hermes stands
in the open doorway. He’s all limbs, long arms and legs and
his syrup colored eyes are filled with panic. He stares at the
half-eaten pomegranate in my hand and at my juice stained
lips. “No,” he gasps, inching closer. “No.”

Hades and I both stand and Hades shoves me behind

him. His spine tenses and he lets out a protective growl.
“Back off Hermes. You can’t take her!”

“I can and I will,” the messenger boasts. “Hand her

over, now.”

Fury builds inside of Hades and I watch his fists as

they turn red and start shaking. “No!” he booms the lowers
his voice. “She’s eaten the fruit of the dead, Hermes. She’s
not going anywhere.”

Hermes peers around Hades and narrows his eyes as

I take another huge bite. He starts toward me, pushes
Hades out of the way, grabs my face, squeezing firmly as
the pomegranate drops from my hands and rolls on the
floor. “How much have you eaten?” Hermes shrieks. I try to
swallow the mouthful of fruit, but Hermes grip on my jaw
tightens. “Spit it out!”

Hades plows into Hermes, knocking him to the side

and the might messenger stumbles, but smiles devilishly
when he notices the pomegranate on the floor. “She’s
coming with me,” he says confidently.

“No she’s not,” Hades snarls. “I already told you

Hermes—.”

Hermes cuts him off, “You sure did, but you left out one

tiny part.”

“What?” Hades barks.

“She’s only eaten half.” Hades eyes shift to the floor;

the half-eaten piece of fruit fills his gaze and with that tiny
distraction, Hermes charges forward encircling my waist
with an arm, reaches into his back pocket, and pulls out a
vile of some kind of elixir. I clamp my mouth shut, but
Hermes is stronger than me and manages to pry it open,
spilling the elixir onto my tongue. I try to spit it out, but it’s
too late and some sneaks down the back of my throat.

Hades starts for me, arms outstretched, a pained look

in his eye. “Noo!”

But before he can reach me, Hermes jumps up, the

wings on his shoes fluttering and blasts through the ceiling,
but not before I can stretch my arms and reach for him,

screaming out, “HADES”, one last time.

Persephone

Warmth surges through me. There’s no more

coldness. There’s no more darkness. As I open my eyes
the sunlight shines brightly and I realize I’m not beneath the
earth’s core anymore. I’m on top of it. I’m back on earth,
laying ten feet away from the tree where the asphodel was
planted. That elixir Hermes made me drink must have
made me throw up because next to my face lies six seeds,
the pomegranate seeds I’d consumed and I scramble to
pick them up and swallow them all over again. I have to.
Swallowing them is the only way. It’s the only way I’ll get
back to him. And never being able to see him again is not
an option.

I scoop the seeds up quickly and bring them to my lips,

but just as I open my mouth to eat them, a gust of wind
sweeps through the trees and carries them away. “No!” I cry
in a panic and try to chase after them. But as soon as the
wind knocks them from my palm they burst into a million tiny
particles. They’re dust.

On my feet, I spin in a circle and a new flower, a daisy

grows beneath the tree where the asphodel was planted.
I’m panicked and desperate and I convinced myself that
even though it’s a daisy, the second I pick it the earth will
open up and pull me under. He’ll pull me under. He will. I
know it.

I snatch the flower hastily, pulling up some of the root.

Then I wait, for seconds, minutes. After ten long,
excruciating minutes of waiting passes by my entire world
falls apart. He’s not coming. He’s not coming. He’s not
coming. The words bounce around inside of my head as I
sink to my knees.

Pain ripples through my lungs and I hunch over. I can’t

breathe. I can’t breathe. Those seeds were my only hope.
And now all hope is lost. I fall forward and go face first into
the dirt. Hysteria swells up inside of me and spills out of my
eyes in the form of tears. “No!” I slam my fists into the mud.
“Come back for me. Please. I know you can.” I put my
mouth directly on the ground and talk to the dirt, thinking
that he’ll be able to hear me. “Come back. Pull me under.
Please.”

Shooting up from the ground, I run in circles around my

yard. Maybe he’s here, watching, lurking somewhere
wearing his invisibility cloak. “Hades!”

Nothing.

“Hades! Hades! Hades!”

Still nothing.

I close my eyes and suck back my tears and that’s

when I hear it… His voice. “Persephone,” he hisses.

My eyes fly open and hope flourishes through me. He

heard me. I knew he would. “Hades,” I call out and chase
after the gentle hiss of his voice.

I hear it again, “Persephone,” and follow the sound of

the voice up the back patio steps and through the sliding
glass doors.

“I’m here,” I shout as tears of joy rain down my face. “I

can hear you!” But the moment I close the sliding glass
door, the voice cuts out altogether. And I whip the sliding
glass door open, hoping that if I step outside I’ll be able to
hear him again. I fumble with handle when an odd feeling
sets in. The house is quiet, too quiet. I glimpse over my
shoulder at the empty, organized kitchen. Something isn’t
right. Where is my mom?

I know her. She’d never just leave me like this. She’d

be waiting at the door to sweep me up in her arms, elated
by my safe return. I turn away from the door and creep
through the kitchen. “Mom! I’m home! Are you here?”

No answer.

I bolt into the living room and take inventory. Everything

is still in its place. Nothing has been moved. So I know
there was no break in or kidnapping of some sort. What’s
going on? I scale the steps and look in every room upstairs.
Mom isn’t anywhere. She’s vanished like Hades when he
does his infamous disappearing act. But at least I know
one thing; wherever mom went, she went on her own
accord.

After looking through even room in the house a second

time I end up in the kitchen again so consumed by
heartbreak and confusion I can’t decide which part of me I
should focus on first. The silence is startling and I wish for
some kind of noise because there are a million questions
rambling in my head. I know mom and Zeus were behind
Hermes taking me, but what else have they been up to? Do
they plan to punish Hades? If so, how? Hades would never
go quietly. Hades wouldn’t let them get close enough to try
and administer a punishment. Besides, those kinds of
punishments went out centuries ago, didn’t they?

A ticking clock pulls me from my thoughts and my eyes

shift, but not before noticing a note held up by a magnet on
the crème refrigerator. White fills up my gaze and I snatch
the paper quickly, not even bothering to pick the magnet up
after it falls onto the floor. There are numbers scrawled

across the paper in messy handwriting with the initials M.O
underneath it.

“M.O?” I question myself out loud. We don’t know

anyone with those initials. Unless… Unless they aren’t a
person’s initials and in that case I know exactly what they
stand for, Mount Olympus.

Grabbing the phone, I dialed the number on the paper.

The phone rings a few times then cuts out. “Mount Olympus
this is Hestia,” Hestia says. I can hear a tug of annoyance in
her vocal chords. Like the last thing she wants to be doing
is playing secretary and answering phones.

"Hestia,” I gush. “It’s Persephone.”

“Oh dear,” Hestia exhales and her voice relaxes. “I

heard what happened to you. I’m so glad Hermes got you
back safely.”

“Thanks, Hestia,” I say, twisting the phone cord

between my fingers. “Can I talk to my mom? It’s important.”

“Sure, dear. One second.”

Hestia puts me on hold and some strange elevator

music plays in the back round. Since when did Mount
Olympus become like this. It’s commercial, almost like a

corporation of some kind.

Hestia comes back on. “Persephone, you still there?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve got your mom on the other line.”

“Thanks.”

“Sweetheart!” mom squeals. “You have no idea how

wonderful it is to hear your voice!”

Her voice sounds too candy coated and it makes me

suspicious. “Why aren’t you here?” I ask, warily. “I thought
you’d want to be here when I was returned.” If mom is
involved in something that Zeus has his hands in I know this
will not be good for me or Hades.

“I had some business to take care of.” She changes

the subject. “When did you get back?”

Mom’s odd behavior enhances my suspicions even

further. “Where’s Hades?”

Hades. Just mentioning his name makes my heart split

open and throb. Tears water in my eyes and I pull the phone
away from my face, exhaling. I’m building blocks scattered
about on the floor. I need a six year old and a table to make

something out of me. I need to feel built up and whole
again. I’d only been away from him an hour and already his
absence is haunting me. I’d only been away from him for an
hour and it felt like days, years even. There was even a
moment earlier where I swore I could feel him touching my
shoulder.

“Don’t you worry about Hades,” mom snaps. “He’s

being taken care of. And he’s not your concern anymore.”

At that moment, I decide trusting my mom may not be

a good thing. She’s gone dirty, sided with Zeus and I know
any information I give her won’t go to my advantage. “I
know,” I say with a hint of snarkiness. “I hope he gets the
punishment he deserves.” I blanch after saying those words
because Hades doesn’t deserve to be punished. He didn’t
do anything wrong. Unless they considered loving someone
for centuries a crime.

“So you haven’t spoken to him?” mom questions me.

There is a suspicious undertone to her voice and I know
she’s trying to tell if I’m lying. I have to step up my game.

“Of course not!” I scoff, pretending to be offended.

“Why would I talk to him? He abducted me, remember?”

“Did he….Did he…” Mom fumbles her words. “Did he

hurt you?”

“No,” I say with force. I can’t lie about that.

“Good.” A sigh of relief from her whooshes through the

phone. “Don’t worry sweetheart. Hades will be judged and
tried accordingly.”

Wait a second. “What?”

Muffled voices fill the backround and mom’s hand

covers the receiver. A second later she’s back. “I have to
go sweetheart. I’ll be home in a few days. And I promise no
more running. We can stay in Oregon for a while. And I
might even let you date that boy next door,” she pauses,
“Oh. What’s his name?” I can hear her snapping her fingers.

“Adonis,” I say with a growl.

“Yes, Adonis,” she gushes. “I love you sweetheart.”

But I don’t want Adonis. I love Hades. He is my

forever.

“Mom, wait!” But it’s too late. All I hear is a dial tone.

After hanging up the phone, I walk into the living room

and fall backwards onto the couch. I need to come up with a
plan and I need to figure out what’s going on. But there is a
barrier blocking out my thoughts. I can’t think straight.

Wanting a distraction, I reach for the remote and turn on the
television. I look away, hoping that the noise makes me
come up with a solution of sort—a way to find out what’s
going on with my mom and what they are going to do to
Hades, but I come up with nothing.

“More breaking news on the Pomegranate crisis.” The

deep overpowering voice of a male newscaster throbs in
my ears and pulls me from my reverie. My eyes flash to the
television screen. I pick up the remote and turn up the
volume, keeping my eyes glued to the screen.

Multiple images flash across the screen of blazing

trees. Bright orange and yellow flames dance around in my
eyes and my mouth gapes open as I watch the broadcast
and the events being broadcasted unfold. I get up from the
couch and sit down on the floor, inches away from the
screen. The picture fade from the screen and the
newscaster comes back on. The regal, well put together
man adjusts a stack of papers in front of him and clears his
throat. “Thank you for tuning in.”

“Pomegranate crisis,” I mumble in disbelief.

The newscaster goes on with his report. “The

pomegranate crisis has reached an all-time high as it
appears that now every tree has been set ablaze. We’ve
got Stan on the scene with more information. Stan?”

More images flash on the screen and each image has

a place listed underneath, but I look away momentarily and
the only one I notice is India. I focus on the screen again
when the reporter on the scene comes into view, standing
feet away from a burning tree. “Thanks Bob.” The reporter
steps to the side and hold his hand out, pointing to the tree
behind him. “This is Stan Williams reporting for WKFTV
and I’m here in California reporting on the unfolding
Pomegranate Crisis and we’ve got an eye witness account.
A short rotund man steps forward. There’s a wobble in his
step and ashes and dirt smeared all over his round face.
Stan extends the microphone to the man. “Sir, can you tell
us what you saw?”

The man looks dazed and exhausted, not to mention

terrified. “It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen,” his voice
quivers and I’m pretty sure he’s shaking because his belly
jiggles. “One second everything was fine, the next, “The
man turns and points to the sky, “The entire sky was white
with lightning.”

I shut the television off. The second the man said,

“lightning,” I knew there was only one person I could blame
for this…Zeus.

Hades

Hades heard her painful shrieks. He heard he call out

his name, sobbing in agony, and blanched at the sound of
it. He wanted to go to her. He wanted to sweep her up in his
arms and tell her not to be upset. That she shouldn’t cry
because everything would be okay. Even though he knew
saying that would be a lie, he didn’t care.

Shortly after she left his realm Hades had noticed little

things happening that threw him off guard. For one, Hermes
had returned to the underworld and confiscated his entire
supply of pomegranates before Zeus had taken it upon
himself to wipe out every other tree in the world. Then his
invisibility cloak disappeared and Hades ability to vanish
and reappear wouldn’t work. He’d tried initially to appear in
front Persephone while she was crying, but couldn’t. It’s like
a barrier had been put up, preventing him from using his
powers and he knew exactly who was behind it.

Pacing in front of a roaring fire place, Hades stopped

allowing the whirling flames to fill his gaze. He was lost in a

trance, developing theories, and trying to figure out how to
get back to Persephone or how to bring her back to him.
He was at a disadvantage. The five God’s and Goddesses
a part from himself had forged an alliance against him,
using whatever means possible to keep him away from his
one, true love.

But why?

Was it because he took her? Or were there issues that

ran deeper than that? Hades knew he and Zeus had always
had a rocky relationship, but why start a war now?

And what plagued him more than anything was that

Demeter and Zeus knew that Hades would be able to
snatch Persephone eventually. He thought of the multiple
times where he’d visited Demeter and assured her it would
only be a matter of time until he would succeed. And
Demeter put up a hell of a fight. She was always prepared,
always ready to pack up her things and move, throwing
Hades off her trail.

A repetitive flapping noise distracted Hades and as

the noise cut out, he turned toward the dining hall table, and
took notice in an eagle with brown feathers and a white
breast as it perched itself on the edge. Hades shook his
head, looking away as a scowl curled on his lips. “Show
your true form, Zeus,” he demanded with a snarl. “There’s
no point in hiding it.”

When Hades glanced back at the bird from over his

shoulder the bird was gone and in its place was the mighty
God of God’s, the father of all the immortals, dressed in a
dapper navy blue business suit. Zeus was all business
most of the time. Yes, sometimes he was fun, but more
business than anything. “How did you get down here?” The
coldness in Hades tone was frosty like too many layers of
ice on a frozen lake. “Why didn’t you just send the
messenger?”

“Because I thought you might kill him.” Zeus howled out

with laughter at his own pun and Hades leered at him. The
joke wasn’t funny for two reasons; one, because Zeus knew
Hades couldn’t kill Hermes and two because Hades
despised the fact that Zeus always had someone else
doing his dirty work. At least when Hades did something
despicable, he mapped out a plan to carry out the idea on
his own.

“What do you want Zeus?” Hades gazed back into the

fire, lost in thought. For a moment, he swore he saw her. He
swore he saw Persephone dancing around in the whirling
flames with a radiant smile on her face and the illusion
made his heart ache.

“I want this,” said Zeus. “All of this.” He twirled his

finger in the air, motioning to their surroundings.

Hades stepped away from the fireplace and lurched

closer. “This? My realm?” The father of all nodded with a
sadistic smile. Zeus had always been a power hungry God,
but now he was going too far. “You can’t have it!” Hades
snapped and he felt the fire of rage unfurling inside of him.
“I will not give it up without a fight!”

“Oh. You’ll give it up.” Zeus lowered his voice.

Hades remembered the hatred that ran deep for Zeus

when he’d first condemned him to this realm, but after
thousands of years Hades had grown fond of his kingdom
and he was not giving it up just because Zeus was on a
power trip. “Never.” The finality in Hades voice made
Zeus’s eyes widen a tiny bit. “What about Poseidon? Will
you take the sea too?”

Zeus tapped his chin with his forefinger, thinking.

“Perhaps, but that’s a different war for a different day.”

“You’re worse than I am,” Hades hissed. Everyone

always thought that Hades was the cruelest of the God’s
just because of his job, but Zeus had him beat. But unlike
Hades, Zeus was able to hide his despicable side and he
had one thing Hades normally didn’t compassion.

The God of the Sky smiled, a fake sickening smile that

made Hades stomach churn. “I take that as a compliment.”

Hades had always believed that everything happened

for a reason so there was no need for compassion and as
he observed Zeus it appeared that his compassion had
been waning as well. “Hades, you need to come with me,”
said Zeus, motioning in a come-hither gesture.

Hades’ eyes wandered around the dining room. This

was his palace. This was his world. He did not want to give
it up. He did not want to leave. “And if I don’t come with you,
what then? Is this really because I took her? You knew I
would eventually. You knew—I.”

“It’s not just because you took her. This goes deeper

than that,” Zeus interrupted.

Hades didn’t like the way he’d answered his

questions. His vagueness was annoying. “Answer me,
Zeus. And what if I don’t come with you willingly? What if I
put up a fight?”

Zeus narrowed his eyes and held out his palms. Hades

watched as his fingertips spit out white lines of electricity,
snapping and cracking before whirling around in circle.
Then her image appeared. She was sleeping and the hard
look Hades was wearing faded away. She looked so
peaceful, and beautiful, and Hades swore that he saw her
mumble his name in her sleep. Suddenly Zeus lowered his
hands and the ball of electricity evaporated along with the

image. “You will come with me,” Zeus said with adamant
tone. “Or I’ll kill her.”

“You can’t kill her,” Hades whispered harshly.

Zeus let out a long sinister laugh. “Have you forgotten

who I am Hades?” he asked with a scowl. “I created her. I
can most definitely kill her.”

Hades balled up his fists and gritted his teeth, hatred

pounded through him, numbing everything inside of him.
“You wouldn’t.”

“You underestimate me, Hades.” Zeus clutched his

arm and squeezed. Then in a low, eerily frightening voice
he said, “I would.”

In that moment Hades knew he had to do something

drastic to save her. He had to something to ensure Zeus
wouldn’t hurt her. And that something was breaking
Persephone’s heart.

Persephone

Persephone. I hear him again half-way through my

slumber. The sound of his deep, beautiful voice lures me
from my bed. I’m walking, down the stairs, through the hall
and my eyes open abruptly when I arrive in the kitchen.

“You,” I gasp. “You’re here.”

“Not really,” he says.

He’s sitting at the kitchen table; smiling and I beam at

the sight of his smile. I start toward him. Then he frowns and
right before I reach him, he holds out his hand, palm up.
“Don’t come any closer.” Pain twists in his voice and he
looks down trying to hide the emotion on his face.

“Why?” I choke out. My insides are a towering inferno

of agony. Put out my fire. Touch me. Smother the blaze with
your fingertips. “You called to me. Didn’t you… Didn’t you,” I
stutter, stunned by the way he’s acting. “Why did you call my
name if you didn’t want to see me?”

He skims his fingers across my cheeks and eases the

burning. I close my eyes and moan softly, kissing his palm.
He yanks his hand away and startles me. My eyelids snap
open and I observe him. There’s no softness to him
anymore. He’s rigid, hard like cement, frozen in a way I’ve
never seen him before. Even his Aegean blue eyes are
fierce, deadly. “This is goodbye,” he says boldly. “I don’t
want to see you anymore.”

I feel like someone has stuck the hose of a shop-vac

down my throat and sucked out my organs. Soon I’ll
collapse in a heap on the floor. “What?” A dull pain throbs in
my side and I hug myself, hoping to take it away. It doesn’t
work. “I don’t understand.”

“Forget me,” he says in a harsh tone. “Forget I ever

took you. Forget you ever met me. I am nothing, but a
figment of your imagination. I am a dream.”

“Never,” my voice trembles. I can never do what he’s

asking me to. I will never forget him or the way he makes
me feel. “I can’t.”

His eyes pierce mine and the set of shimmering blue

orbs are emotionless, but I get the sense that he’s hiding
something. There’s something hidden behind the front he’s
putting up. “What’s going on?” I ask and reach out for him.

“Why are you acting like this? I thought I meant something
to you. I thought you loved me.” His eyes shift to my hand,
like the gesture repulses him and then he looks away.

“That isn’t true.” His words pound into my head like a

gavel into a circle of wood. “You were a challenge, that’s
all.”

This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.

“I’m dreaming. This is just a nightmare. I’m going to

wake up.” I pinch myself, hoping that my eyes will fly open
and I’ll find myself in my bed.

“You’re dreaming,” he insists, “I can only see or talk to

you in your dreams. But this is not a nightmare. What I’m
saying to you is the truth. You’re a challenge that I
conquered. I don’t love you. I’m sorry I had to tell you like
this.”

At that moment I snap. I go crazy and lunge for him,

shoving him as hard as I can. “You’re lying! You’re lying!”
What he feels for me is real. I’m not a challenge he
conquered. I can’t be. I remember the way I’d catch him
looking at me with a deep longing in his eyes. I remember
seeing the love in his eyes. That wasn’t fake. It was real. I
know it was real.

My face is hot and tears spill from my eyes. I slam my

fists into his chest and he does nothing to console me. He
stands there like an immortal punching bag and allows me
to pummel him with punch after punch.

“Are you finished?” he asks a vacant tone in his voice.

I burrow my fists into my eyes then stare at him. He’s

still wearing a cold, emotionless expression. He eyes me
oddly before walking to the door. “Sometimes the truth
hurts.” I hang my head low, trying to control my sobs. It feels
like every time I get a firm grasp on keeping them inside
more slip out. My throat feels itchy and raw. My entire body
is shaking. My knees buckle and I fall onto the floor.

Get a

hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself.

I’m a blubbering mess and when I finally feel like I’ve

put myself back together, I lift my head up to reply to him,
but he’s not in the kitchen. An unsettling silence engulfs the
room and I know he’s not in my house either. He’s gone.

Persephone

Part of me hoped that last night would be a bad

dream. I hoped that when I woke up in my own bed, I’d be
able to smile and know that during my slumber I had the
worst nightmare of my entire life.

But I don’t wake up in my bed. I wake up on the floor in

the kitchen. It was a nightmare, a nightmare that actually
happened. I hear him, “I don’t love you,” and the words
surge through me. They shock me, hurt me, and expand
into an abyss of anguish. If I could die right now, I would
want to.

Pain. All there is is pain. I feel like someone has just

plunged their fist into my chest and wrapped their fingers
around my heart. They are squeezing and squeezing. There
is blood everywhere. A crimson river trails down the length
of their arm and when they yank their hand out of my chest
cavity my organ is in their palm. But it doesn’t beat. They’ve
killed it. And now I’m dead inside.

How could he say those things to me when he’d said

the exact opposite hours earlier? How could he look me in
the eye and utter, “I don’t love you. You were a challenge
that’s all.”

Just about thinking about it breaks me a part all over

again. Just thinking about those vile, evil words make me
want to be sick.

Unless I was right and he was lying. An image of his

face flashes behind my eyes. So cold, so emotionless, so
lifeless. Not even a flicker of humanity inside of him. It hits
me all at once. He wasn’t lying. He was telling the truth.

For the rest of the morning, I lie in my bed. What I want

is to be like him. I want to be an android incapable of
feeling. I want to be able to be programmed to turn the
emotion on and off with the flick of a switch. But I can’t. No.
In that moment, I make a promise to myself. It’s too easy to
shut everything out. It’s too easy to walk through life hollow
and empty. And even though a dull pain has been pumping
through me since he left me on the kitchen floor, I know I’ll
never want to be like him. I will always want to feel.

Questions continue, filling up my brain. What did he

want me for then? Did he want me to stay there as a statue
at his side? Don’t speak. Stand still. Look pretty. You’re
wall décor. A portrait hanging on the wall in his dreary

home. He’d admire me thoughtfully and marvel at my
beauty and think how much he enjoys having me on his wall,
but that would be the extent of it.

I smother my face with my pillow and scream. I let the

torture out. I let the pain out. I scream away my heartbreak.

****

Later on that night, I sit on the back patio and stare at

the moon. It’s full and bright and glowing, casting light spots
and dancing shadows on portions of the back yard. I watch
the shadows take form and whirl around sliding from tree
trunks to the grass. Sounds of night; crickets chirping, and
the pitter-patter of forest creatures feet hammers in my
ears. I used to like the sounds that emerged after the sun
went down. It reminds me that even after the sun sets that
the earth is still alive. But not today. Today I want every
sound to fade away and die. I want the silence to drown me.

Plodding footsteps cut into my thoughts and I turn to my

right as the shadow of a person comes into view.
Instinctively, I stand and that’s when Adonis, the beautiful
boy from next door steps out of the shadows and into a
glowing beam of moonlight.

“Persephone,” he gasps, jogging toward me. “You’re

okay!” I sit back down and he sits down next to me. “I was
worried,” he tells me as sincerity flashes in his melted

chocolate brown eyes. “Your mom told me you were sick.
Are you feeling better?”

I try to smile, but my lips only curl up half-way. Normally

just looking at Adonis knocks the wind out of my lungs. But I
felt the sliver of emotion I’d felt for him seep out of me the
first time Hades kissed me. “Yes,” I reply weakly. “I’m
better.” I’m not better. I’m worse. Much much worse.

Adonis flashes me a radiant smile and playfully nudges

me with his shoulder. “I’m glad. So does that mean you’ll be
in school tomorrow?”

“Probably not. I’m just getting my strength back. It might

take a few more days.”

He scrunches his eyebrows together and looks at his

hands. “Was it the flu or something?”

I turn my head. “Something like that.” I wonder if he can

sense that I’m distant. I examine his face. No. He looks
happy, smiling brightly, eyes sparkling, dimples indented in
his cheeks.

“I heard you yesterday. I wanted to come over then, but

I thought you might have wanted a day to yourself.”

“You heard me?”

“You were shouting. A name. Hades.”

“Oh,” I say, trying to keep calm on the outside. On the

inside I’m panicking, racking my brain for another lie. In my
moment of grief I forgot about the neighbors. I didn’t think
anyone would hear me. “I was delusional. I had a fever,”
was all I could come up with.

Adonis rests his palm against my forehead. The warm

sizzle I used to feel when he touched me isn’t there. It’s just
another sweaty palm. “Not anymore,” he muses. “You’re as
cool as a cucumber.”

Adonis mentioning Hades punctures a hole in my heart

all over again. I don’t want to talk anymore. I don’t want to
think anymore. I want to lock myself away in a closet and
never come out again. “I’m tired,” I announce as I stand. “I’m
going to turn in for the night.”

He remains seated and a spark of concern resonates

in his creamy brown eyes. “Persephone, wait.”

But I don’t wait. I turn on my heel, slamming the sliding

glass door, and leaving Adonis alone on my back patio to
admire the moon.

That night I dream of Hades again. But this time he

doesn’t come to me. This time it’s like an out of body

experience and I’m watching events unfold. We’re in the
Hall of the Gods and Hades is on his knees in front of
Hestia, Mom, Hera, Poseidon, and Zeus. He hangs his
head low and Zeus is shouting, his face red with fury, and
he’s shaking a fist, but I can’t hear the words coming out of
his mouth.

My heart palpitates. My breaths quicken. And before I

know it I’m running then sliding on my knees next to Hades.
I glimpse over my shoulder at the other God’s and
Goddesses and shriek, “Stop! Stop it! He didn’t do
anything wrong!” Then I try to cup his face with my hands,
but they slip right through him. Frustrated and terrified for
him, I throw the weight of my body into him, but once again I
slip right through him. There is pain on his face and I swear
I can see a miniscule tear dribble down his cheek.

Then it hits me and I bolt upright in my bed, gasping.

Oh God. Hades projected the dream. He’s able to put
images in my head. Yesterday… Yesterday he was lying.
He wants them; the other God’s to think he doesn’t love me.
He wants them to think he’s cut off communication. He’s
trying to protect me from something. I know it. I can feel it.
But what is it that he’s protecting me from? My mom?
Could it be Zeus?

Confusion drenches me and I fall back against my

pillow. Instead of trying to come up answers to all the
questions sounding off in my mind, I come up with a

solution to everything. The only way I can get back to him is
by finding a pomegranate and eating it. But thanks to Zeus
every tree on the planet is now ash. I’m sure Hades supply
has been cleaned out.

I hop out of bed and race down the stairs, mapping out

a plan in my head. I pace in the kitchen. Without
pomegranates there would be no seeds so growing my
own tree isn’t an option. Think Persephone, think. I sit down
at the table and massage my temples. Zeus may be one of
the worst father’s on the planet, but he is smart. He’d never
destroy every tree in the world. He’s always been obsessed
with control and you can’t control something that doesn’t
exist.

Racking my brain, my mind goes back to a time during

my childhood. I’ve always been curious and at time
mischievous and I recall one time where I’d wandered into
one of Zeus’s private rooms in the Hall of the Gods. I’d only
been in there for a second before my mom scurried in after
me, scolding me. “Persephone,” she’d said gripping my
hand and pulling me out of the room. “This is Zeus’s private
room. You’re not allowed in here.” Right before we exited
the room. I caught a glimpse of it a tree growing in through
the window, plump balls of fruit with reddish skin dangling
off the branches.

I jump up from my seat. I don’t why I didn’t realize this

before. I knew when I saw the fruit initially there was

something vaguely familiar about it. One tree left in the
world. One way back into the arms of my beloved. One item
to use as a bargaining chip for his freedom. I have to get to
that tree. And that means I have to go back to place that I
haven’t been to in five thousand years. My one and only true
home. Mount Olympus.

Epilogue

Pomegranate

I pack my things in hurry, tossing random items into a

duffle bag. Then double checking to make sure I have
everything; identification, clothing, my passport, and extra
cash.

Sprinting to the front door, I mentally tell Hades not to

worry. I’m coming. I know and I will save you. I promise. I
know he can’t actually hear me, but somehow it makes me
feel better saying the words. Even if they’re in my head.

At the front door, I reach for the knob, but someone is

on the other side of the door, twisting it and the metal
jingles before I yank the door open. Adonis stands at my
front door, lowering his hand a suspicious loo in his eyes.
“Good morning, Adonis,” I say stepping outside and closing
the door behind.

He holds his chin with his thumb and forefinger, looking

at me puzzled. “Um, where are you going?”

I walk to my left and he follows. Then I walk to my right,

trying to get around him, but he still follows me. “Adonis,
look,” I sigh frustrated. “Can you please get out of my way?”
He eyes me oddly and I try to dash past him again, but he
stops me. “I have to be somewhere! Stop this! It’s
important!”

Adonis doesn’t move.

I shove past him and he clutches my shoulders and

pushes me back. “You’re going to him, aren’t you?”

“Him?” What is going on here? What is up with him?

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re trying to save him, aren’t you? I don’t think you’ll

make it in time.”

I’ve had it. “What in the hell do you mean, him?” I shout

and ball up my fists. “And no, I’m not going to make it
anywhere in time if you don’t move.”

Adonis closes his eyes for a second and opens his

mouth to reply, but I take that as an open opportunity to
sprint past him. I don’t make it very far. He grips on to my
waist and tackles me, pinning me down on the grass. I
thrash violently and almost blast him in the jaw. I only miss it

by a centimeter. “I’m sorry, Persephone. But you’re not
going anywhere.” He eases up off me and sits back on his
knees. “I’ve been given strict instructions to watch you and
make sure you don’t go anywhere.”

I don’t even know what to say. I’m baffled. I’ve been

living next door to someone I thought I knew. “What is going
on?” I shout. “You’d better start talking!”

Adonis shakes his head and stands. “There are things

you don’t know.” Adonis extends his hand to me. I slap it
away, enraged. The rage is mixed with worry. I have to
swallow it. I can’t let my temper get the best of me. With
every second that passes I feel like Hades is slipping
farther and farther away. I close my eyes and hear him.
Come to me. And I’m trying, believe me, I’m trying.

I stand slowly and glare at Adonis and I hope he can

see how much I loathe him right now.

His eyes pierce mine and he cocks his head to the

side, wearing a cocky grin. “You can’t run, Persephone
because even if you do I’ll find you.”

I stagger backwards, mouth gaping and gasp. “What

are you?”

“It’s not about what I am,” he replies, “It’s about who I

am.” He takes me by the arm and guides me back to the

front door. My time is dwindling down. I can feel Hades
getting farther and farther away, slipping through my grasp.
His voice fades, almost and echo.

“Adonis,” I plead. “You need to let me go. I have to help

him.”

Adonis pushes me through the front door without

responding to me and forces me onto the couch. He sits
down across from me on a plush, reclining chair and cocks
his head to the side. “I need to tell you a secret,” he says.
“I’m not who you think I am.”

Biography

Lauren Hammond is the bestselling author of the YA

romance novella, He Loves Me He Loves You Not. She has
a severe addiction to coffee and amazing books. She is a
literary agent with ADA Management Group and she can
be found in any book store perusing the YA section or at
home, writing.