A Touch of Malice (Hades & Persephone #3)(25)

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Apollo looked up at her, his violet eyes were tired. Still, he smiled.

“Aw, Seph,” he said. “You really do care.”

She frowned.

“Why isn’t she waking up?” Aphrodite asked, drawing their attention back to Harmonia who had not stirred.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I healed her as much as I could. The rest…is up to her.”

Persephone felt the color drain from her face. She thought about Lexa in limbo, choosing between returning or staying in the Underworld.

“Hades?” Persephone asked.

“I do not see her lifeline ending,” he answered, and she got the feeling he was only answering her unspoken question for her sake, not Aphrodite’s. “The more pressing question is what you saw as you healed her, Apollo.”

He winced like he had a headache. “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing that will help us, anyway.”

“So you couldn’t view her memories?” Hermes asked.

“Not much. They were dark and hazy, a trauma response, I think. She’s probably trying to suppress them, which means we may not have any more clarity when she wakes. Her attackers wore masks— white ones with gaping mouths.”

“But how did they manage to harm her at all?” Aphrodite asked. “Harmonia is the Goddess of Harmony. She should have been able to influence these… vagrants and calm them.”

That was true. Even if her aggressor had managed to land a surprise blow, Harmonia should have been able to stop any further attack.

“They must have found a way to subdue her power,” Hermes said.

All the gods exchanged a look, even Hephaestus seemed concerned, uncrossing his arms to step out of the shadow just an inch.

“But how?” Persephone asked.

“Anything is possible,” Apollo said. “Relics cause problems all the time.”

Persephone had learned about relics while she was in college. They were any item imbued with the power of the gods—swords, shields, spears, fabrics, jewels—basically anything a god had owned or gifted to one of their favored. The items were usually scavenged from battlefields or graves. Some ended up in museums, others in the hands of people who intended to use them for their own disastrous gain.

“Hades?” she called his name because she could tell his mind was working, turning over possibilities as they spoke. After a moment, he replied. “It could be a relic or perhaps a god eager for power.”

She noted that his gaze was on Hephaestus. The blacksmith had created many things over the centuries—shields and chariots, swords and thrones, animatronics and humans. “Any ideas, Hephaestus?”

He shook his head, his expression grim as his grey eyes fell upon his wife and sister-in-law.

“I would need to know more.”

Persephone got the sense that wasn’t exactly true. Still, she understood wanting more information than what Apollo had been able to give.

“Let her rest and when she wakes give her ambrosia and honey,” Apollo said, rising to his feet.

Persephone rose with him and steadied him as he stumbled, placing his hand to his head.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, then he laughed. “Stay alert, Seph. I’ll summon you soon.”

Then he vanished. Persephone met Hades’ dark gaze and while he seemed focused upon her for a moment, he quickly shifted to Aphrodite.

“Why summon us?”

Persephone winced at Hades’ tone—it was void of emotion, but she thought she knew why. This made him uneasy like it made her uneasy, and if she had to guess, he was probably imagining her on that chaise beaten and bruised, not Harmonia.

Aphrodite’s back straightened and she looked at Hades.

“I summoned Persephone not you,” she replied briskly, glaring at Hermes.

“What?” he countered. “You know Hades wouldn’t let her come alone!”

“Me?” Persephone asked, eyes widened in surprise. “Why?”

“I would like you to investigate Adonis and Harmonia’s attacks,” she said.

“No,” Hades said evenly.

The goddesses glared at him.

“You are asking my fiancée to put herself in the path of these mortals who hurt your sister. Why would I say yes?”

“She asked me, not you,” Persephone pointed out. Although, Hades had a point. If Adonis and Harmonia were attacked for their connection to the Divine, they would not hesitate to hurt her based on the mere fact that she was to marry the God of the Dead. “Still, why me? Why not ask Helios for assistance?”

“Helios is an asshole,” Aphrodite spat. “He feels he owes us nothing because he fought for us during Titanomachy. I’d rather fuck his cows than ask for his assistance. No, he would not give me what I want.”

“And what do you want?” Persephone asked.

“Names, Persephone,” Aphrodite answered. “I want the name of every person who laid a hand on my sister.”

She noted that she didn’t mention Adonis. Still, a cold dread swept through Persephone as she realized what the goddess was after—revenge.

“I cannot promise you names, Aphrodite. You know I can’t.”

“You can,” she said. “But you won’t because of him.”