A Touch of Malice (Hades & Persephone #3)(20)

Come—out with it.”

Persephone sighed and told Hecate about the woman in the club. The goddess listened and after a moment, asked, “What did you think you could have offered the woman?”

Persephone opened her mouth to speak but hesitated.

“I…don’t know,” she admitted. She didn’t even know what the woman had wanted—though she could guess. It hadn’t taken Persephone long to realize that mortals rarely asked for anything but time, health, wealth, or love. None of which Persephone could grant, not as the Goddess of Spring, much less as a goddess just learning her powers.

“I see where your mind is going,” Hecate said. “I did not mean to make you feel lesser, but you have answered my question all the same.”

Persephone’s eyes widened slightly. “How?”

“You are thinking like a mortal,” she said. “What could I have possibility offered?”

“What could I have offered, Hecate? A wilted rose? The sun on a cold day?”

“You mock yourself and yet your mother terrorizes the upperworld with snow and ice. The sun is just what the mortal world needs.”

Persephone frowned. The idea of attempting to counter her mother’s magic was overwhelming.

Again, Hecate stopped her.

“Coming from the woman who used Hades’ magic against him.”

Persephone narrowed her eyes. “Hecate, have you been hiding that you can read my mind?”

“Hiding implies that I willfully mislead you,” Hecate replied.

Persephone raised a brow.

“But yes, of course I can read minds,” she answered and then as if it would explain everything, she added “I am a goddess and a witch.”

“Great,” Persephone rolled her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m used to tuning out, especially when you’re thinking about Hades.”

The goddess scrunched her nose and Persephone groaned.

“My point is, Persephone, there will come a time when you can no longer masquerade as a mortal.”

A frown pulled at Persephone’s lips, but even she was beginning to wonder how long she would be able to keep up this charade, especially with her mother’s magic running rampant in the Upperworld.

“It was noble, to want to be known for your work but you are more than Persephone, a journalist.

You are Persephone, Goddess of Spring, future Queen of the Underworld. You have so much more to offer than words.”

She thought of something Lexa had told her about what it meant to be a goddess. You are kind and compassionate and you fight for your beliefs, but mostly, you fight for people.

Persephone took a deep breath.

“And what am I supposed to do? Announce my Divinity to the world?”

“Oh, my dear, do not worry about how the world will come to know you.”

Persephone shivered, and while part of her wanted to know what Hecate meant, another part of her didn’t.

“Come, you wanted to practice.”

The Goddess sat on the grass and patted the spot beside her. Persephone sighed, knowing Hecate intended for her to meditate. She did not like meditating, but she had been working on drawing upon her magic, and while she was getting better, it was usually via Hades’ instruction she was most successful.

She took her place beside Hecate, releasing Nefeli to wander in the surrounding meadow. Hecate began, coaching her to close her eyes as she narrated how Persephone should think of her magic—as a well or pool that she could draw from anytime.

“Imagine the pool—glistening, cool.”

The problem was Persephone didn’t think of her magic as a pool at all—it was darkness, it was shadow. It wasn’t cool, it was fire. It wasn’t calm, it was furious. It has been locked away so long, freedom had made it feral. When she got close, it gnashed, sprouted, drew blood. It was the opposite of peace—the opposite of meditation.

While she sat with her eyes closed, she felt magic stir around her—it was Hecate’s—a heavy and ancient power that smelled like a fine wine, aged and sharp, and felt like dread. Her eyes flew open only to find that the small, fluffy dog from earlier had transformed into a massive hellhound. She was no longer cute, but fierce, her eyes glowed red, her teeth were long, sharp, and her jowls dripped, salivating with hunger.

Nefeli growled, Persephone’s eyes darted to Hecate who had moved to hover behind her new grim.

“Hecate—” Persephone’s voice took on an edge of warning.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Don’t my lady me,” she snapped. “What are you doing?”

“We’re practicing.”

“This isn’t practice!”

“It is. You must be prepared for the unexpected. Not all are as they appear, Persephone.”

“I think I get it. The dog isn’t cute.”

A deadly growl erupted from Nefeli’s throat. She inched toward Persephone like a predator cornering its prey, pinning her against the ground.

“Did she insult you, my sweet?” Hecate asked, her voice sweet but chiding.

Persephone glared at the goddess as she encouraged the hound she’d decried earlier.

“If you want her to yield, use your magic,” Hecate said.

Persephone’s eyes widened. What magic was she supposed to use to call off a hound? “Hecate—”