A Touch of Malice (Hades & Persephone #3)(119)

Hermes looked over his shoulder and grinned.

“Hey, Sephy,” he said.

“Hey, Hermes,” she replied quietly, unsure of what to make of the presence of the gods, and yet knowing this was not good.

Directly across from her was Zeus who was bare-chested, saving for a fur pelt he wore as a cape and a pteruges—a leather, strip-like skirt—about his waist. Beside him was Hera, who wore a complicated mix of silver, gold, and leather armor. Despite Persephone’s fear of Zeus, she felt as though the Goddess of Marriage looked the most battle hungry. Then there was Poseidon with his predatory gaze. He, too, was bare-chested and wore a white tunic, secured in place by a belt of gold and teal. In his hand he gripped his trident, a weapon that gleamed with malice. Ares was here, too, his bright red cape and feathered helm fluttering in the wind. Then there was Aphrodite, draped in gold and blush and Artemis whose bow was slung on her back. Persephone could tell she was tense, ready to reach for the weapon if given the single. Athena looked regal, if not completely passive as she stood with Hestia, who was the only goddess not dressed for battle.

Her mother was the only Olympian missing—and Hades.

Then she felt his unmistakable presence—a darkness so delicious, it felt like home as it curled around her waist and suddenly, she was pulled back against his solid chest. Persephone tilted her head back and felt Hades’ jaw scrape her cheek as his lips settled near her ear.

“Angry, darling?”

“A little,” she replied breathlessly.

Despite his teasing comment, she felt the tension in his body.

“That was quite a display of power, little goddess,” Zeus said.

“Call me little one more time,” Persephone glared at the God of Thunder, who chuckled at her anger.

“I am not sure why you are laughing,” she continued. “I have asked for your respect before. I will not ask again.”

“Are you threatening your king?” Hera asked.

“He is not my king,” she said.

Zeus’s eyes darkened. “I should have never allowed you to leave that temple. That prophecy was not about your children. It was about you.”

“Leave it, Zeus,” Hades said. “This will not end well for you.”

“Your goddess is a threat to all Olympians,” he responded.

“She is a threat to you,” Hades said.

“Step away, Hades,” Zeus said. “I will not hesitate to end you, too.”

“If you make war against them, you make war against me.” The words came from Apollo, whose golden bow materialized within his hands.

“And me,” Hermes said, drawing his blade.

There was a stark silence.

Then Zeus spoke, “You would commit treason?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Apollo mused.

“You would protect a goddess whose power might destroy you?” Hera asked.

“With my life,” Hermes said. “Sephy is my friend.”

“And mine,” said Apollo.

“And mine,” said Aphrodite, who broke from the line and crossed to Persephone’s side. As she came to stand beside Apollo, she called Hephaestus’s name, and the God of Fire also appeared, filling the space beside her.

“I will not battle,” Hestia said.

“Nor I,” Athena said.

“Cowards,” Ares shot back.

“Battle should serve a purpose beyond bloodshed,” said Athena.

“The oracle has spoken and pinned this goddess as a threat. War eliminates threats.”

“So does peace,” said Hestia.

The two goddesses vanished and then it was Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Artemis, and Ares who faced them.

“You are sure this is what you want, Apollo?” Artemis asked.

“Seph gave me a chance when she shouldn’t have. I owe her.”

“Is her chance worth your life?”

“In my case?” he asked. “Yes.”

“You will regret this, little goddess,” Zeus promised.

Persephone’s eyes narrowed.

“I said don’t call me little.”

Her power moved and broke the earth beneath Zeus and the other Olympians’ feet. They jumped to avoid falling into an open abyss, rose into the air with ease, and attacked. Zeus seemed intent upon striking Persephone, and his first attack came in the form of a powerful bolt of violet lightning that struck the ground near her feet, causing the earth to shake.

“You are as dogged as your mother,” Zeus snarled.

“I believe the word you are looking for is strong willed,” Persephone said.

Zeus reared back, but instead of striking her, his arm met a wall of sharp thorns—and they shattered, but it was enough of a barrier for Persephone to avoid the god’s blow. As she did, Hades stepped between them, his glamour fading into black amour, but the shadows that fell away from him barreled toward Zeus. One managed to pass through his body, causing him to stumble back, but he recovered in time to deflect the other two with the cuffs that braced his arms.

“The rule of women, Hades, is you never give them your heart.”

Persephone didn’t have time to wonder how Hades’ responded because as she stumbled back from the two, she came face to face with Poseidon who swung his trident at her. The edges cut into her upper arm as she tried to move and she gasped in pain, but she used that sting to begin to heal, and summoned vines from the ground that tangled around the trident, pulling it from Poseidon’s grasp. The god was quick to anger and punched his hand into the vines, ripping his weapon from their hold and slamming it into the ground. The earth began to shake and crack open, and the land that Persephone had healed was now broken. A giant fissure appeared between her and the God of the Sea, and as he took a step close to her, fire sprang from its depths and a flaming whip cut through the air and wrapped around Poseidon’s neck, sending him flying backward. He crashed into one of the vine-covered buildings Persephone had resurrected.