A Touch of Malice (Hades & Persephone #3)(129)

Persephone looked to Theseus. He hesitated, uncertain.

“Do not trust this goddess’s magic. She is evil,” Demeter said.

“Shut up!” Theseus commanded.

Demeter’s eyes narrowed.

“Command her,” he said. “But remember, I hold your friend’s life within my hands.”

“Hecate, takes us to Hades’ arsenal.”

As Hecate’s magic surrounded them, Persephone shivered. She remembered fighting the goddess in this very meadow, feeling the strength and age of her power. It left a darkness upon the heart that was hard to shake, but right now, it was comforting—comforting because she knew Hecate would fight, and the results would be deadly.

They appeared outside the arsenal. The door to the vault was round and gold, inlaid with thick, clear glass that showed all the locks and gears.

Theseus whirled upon Persephone and Hecate, his fingers biting into Sybil’s arm.

“I thought you said you would take us to the arsenal.”

“I have,” Hecate said calmly. “But even I am prevented from teleporting inside. The queen or king himself, are the only two who can open the vault.”

Persephone started to protest, but Theseus once again threatened Sybil.

“Open it!” He screamed, his madness returning—he was so close to what he wanted, he could barely contain himself.

Persephone looked at Hecate, desperate.

I don’t know how.

You don’t have to know, she said.

Persephone stepped forward and placed her hand upon a pad beside the door. Once it had scanned her handprint, the door began to grind, winding open like a wheel to reveal Hades’ arsenal.

Persephone stepped into the familiar, round room with its black marble floor and walls covered in weapons, but her eyes—like Theseus’s—went to the center where Hades’ armor loomed and the Helm of Darkness rested at its feet.

Theseus pushed Sybil toward Demeter as he entered.

“Hold her!” He barked.

Hecate hovered near Harmonia.

“It is more magnificent than I could have imagined,” Theseus said as he stepped toward the display. Persephone’s gaze held Hecate’s, unwavering.

Get them out here, she begged.

Of course, the goddess said.

When Theseus touched Hades’ helm, Hecate’s magic was like a thrust, sweeping Harmonia and Sybil out of the arsenal to safety. Theseus’ hands slipped and Hades’ helm fell from its place upon the pedestal, rolling onto the ground with a loud crack.

“No!” Theseus growled.

Persephone’s magic erupted, thorns rose from gashes in the marble, sealing exits. Demeter’s lips peeled away from her gleaming teeth as she smiled wickedly.

“I will teach you a final lesson, daughter. Perhaps it will keep you complacent.”

If magic was a language, then Demeter’s confessed hatred. Immediately her power gushed in a wave of fierce energy, knocking Persephone back into a wall, which crumbled beneath her weight.

She landed upon her feet, only to find Theseus armed with a blade from Hades’ collection.

“God-fucking bitch!” he growled as he swung.

Persephone lashed out; the tips of her fingers spiked with black tips that released like bullets into the demi-god’s chest. He stumbled back, his shirt darkening with blood, his eyes flashed, glowing unnaturally bright. Then he struck the ground with his fist and the earth began to tremble, jarring the weapons on the wall and causing Persephone to lose her footing.

At the same time, Demeter called forth another blast of energy. It struck her hard, sending her flying once again. As she landed, Theseus lifted his weapon over his head to strike. Persephone held up her hands and as his blade met the energy she had gathered there, he crashed into Hades’ armor.

Persephone called forth vines that restrained him where he landed.

Then Persephone turned her full attention to Demeter. Their magic clashed—each burst of energy met and exploded, each vine and thorn, tangled and crumbled. The Goddess of Harvest threw out another blast, this one stirred the air, causing it to gust, tangling Persephone’s hair and clothing.

Demeter reached for the blade Theseus had used during his attack, swinging it at Persephone. She countered with her magic—with whatever she could summon fast.

“The gods will destroy you,” Demeter said. “I would have kept you safe!”

“What good is safe when the rest of the world is under threat?”

“The rest of the world doesn’t matter!” she seethed.

It was the first time Persephone saw Demeter’s true fear for her, and for a brief second, they both ceased to fight. They stared at one another, both on edge, but the words that came out of Demeter’s mouth were broken, and they broke Persephone.

“You matter. You are my daughter. I begged for you.”

There was a raw truth to those words, and while Persephone could understand her mother’s action to a point, there were some things she would never agree with. Hades, too, had begged for her.

Hades, too, wanted to protect her—but he was willing to let her fight, to watch her suffer, if it meant seeing her rise.

“Mom,” she said, shaking her head.

“Leave with me,” she said, desperate. “Leave with me now and we can forget this ever happened.”