A Touch of Darkness (Hades x Persephone #1)(65)

They found their table, snagged a glass of wine, and spent time mingling. Persephone admired Lexa’s ability to make friends with anyone. She started chatting with a couple at their table and their group grew to include several more people by the time a chime sounded in the room. Everyone exchanged looks, and Lexa gasped.

“Persephone, the gods are coming! Come on!” Lexa took Persephone’s hand, dragging her across the floor and to a set of stairs that led to the second floor.

“Lexa, where are we going?” Persephone asked as they headed to the stairs.

“To watch the gods arrive!” she said, as if that were obvious.

“But...won’t we see them inside?” she asked.

“Not the point,” Lexa said. “I’ve watched this part on television for years. I want to see it in person tonight.”

There were several exhibits on the second floor, but Lexa wanted to secure a spot on the outdoor terrace which overlooked the entrance to the museum. There were already several people crowded around the balcony’s edge to get a look at the Divine as they arrived, but Persephone and Lexa managed to squeeze into a small space. A mass of screaming fans and journalists crowded the sidewalks and the other side of the street. Camera lights flashed like lightening all around.

“Look! There’s Ares!” Lexa squealed, but Persephone’s stomach turned.

She did not like Ares. He was a god who thirsted for blood and violence. He was one of the loudest voices before The Great Descent, persuading Zeus to descend to the Earth and make war upon the mortals.

And Zeus listened—ignoring the advice and wisdom of Ares’ counterpart, Athena.

The God of War made his way up the steps. He wore a gold chiton and part of his chest was uncovered, revealing statuesque muscles and golden skin. A red cape covered one shoulder. Instead of wearing a mask, he bore a golden helm with a long, red plume of feathers that fell down his back. His scimitar-horns were long, lithe and lethal, bowing back with his feathers. He was regal and beautiful and frightening.

After Ares came Poseidon. He was huge—his shoulders, chest, and arms bulged beneath the fabric of his aquamarine suit jacket. He had pretty blond hair that reminded Persephone of restless waves. He wore a minimal mask that shimmered like the inside of a shell. She had the thought that Poseidon wanted no mystery to his presence.

Following Poseidon was Hermes. He was handsome in a flashy gold suit. He had dropped the glamour from his wings, and the feathers created a cloak about his body. Upon his head, he wore a crown of gold leaves. Persephone could tell Hermes liked walking the red carpet. He rejoiced in the attention, smiling broadly and posing. She thought about calling to him, but she didn’t need to—he found her quickly, winking at her before disappearing from view.

Apollo arrived in a gold chariot pulled by white horses. He was known for his dark curls and violet eyes. His skin was a burnished brown and made the white chiton he wore look like a flame. Instead of showing off his horns, he wore a gold crown that resembled the sun’s rays.

He was accompanied by woman Persephone recognized.

“Sybil!” she and Lexa called happily, but the beautiful blonde couldn’t hear them over the cries of the crowd. Journalists screamed questions at Sybil, asking for her name, demanding to know who she was, where she was from, and how long she’d been with Apollo.

Persephone admired the way Sybil handled it all. She seemed to enjoy the attention, smiling and waving, and she actually answered the questions. She wore a beautiful red gown that shimmered as she walked beside Apollo and into the museum.

Persephone recognized Demeter’s vehicle—a long, white limo. Her mother went for a more modern look, choosing a lavender ball gown that dripped with pink petals. It literally looked like a garden was growing up her skirts. Her hair was up and her antlers on display.

Lexa leaned in and whispered to Persephone. “Something must be wrong. Demeter always works the red carpet.”

Lexa was right. Her mother usually put on a fashionable and flamboyant show, smiling and waving at the crowd. Tonight, she frowned, barely glancing at the journalists when they called to her. All Persephone could think was that, whatever her mother was going through, was all her fault.

The crowd grew louder as another limo approached. Aphrodite stepped out wearing a surprisingly tasteful evening gown. White and pink flowers decorated the bodice of her dress. The middle was see-through, and the flowers continued trailing down into folds of tulle. She wore a headpiece of pink peonies and pearls, and her graceful gazelle horns sprouted from her head behind it. She was stunning, but the thing about Aphrodite—all the goddesses, really—was that they were warriors, too. And the Goddess of Love, for whatever reason, was particularly vicious.

She waited outside her limo, and both Persephone and Lexa groaned when they saw none other than Adonis clamber from the backseat.

Lexa leaned in and whispered, “Rumor has it, Hephaestus didn’t want her.”

Persephone snorted. “You can’t believe everything you hear, Lexa.”

Hephaestus was not an Olympian, but he was the God of Fire. Persephone didn’t know much about him, except that he was quiet and a brilliant inventor. She’d heard a lot of rumors about his marriage to Aphrodite and none of them were good.

The last to arrive were Zeus and Hera.

Zeus, like his brothers, was huge. He wore a chiton that exposed part of his well-muscled chest. His hair fell in waves to his shoulders and was the brown in color, threaded through with hints of silver-white. His beard was full and well-manicured. Upon his head, he wore a golden crown that fit between a pair of ram horns that curled down around his face. It made him look fierce and terrifying.