A Touch of Malice (Hades & Persephone #3)(36)

“I see Hermes failed to follow instructions,” she comment briskly.

“You can thank Apollo for that,” Persephone said.

“Persephone and I are doing this together, Aphrodite,” Hades said.

There was silence.

“Persephone,” Aphrodite said. “Please, have a seat.”

She took a chair opposite the two goddesses. Aphrodite continued as if Hades were not darkening the room, though he came to stand behind Persephone.

“Tea?” she offered.

“Yes,” Persephone’s voice was soft. She wanted something warm to break the chill in her bones.

Aphrodite poured tea and slide the cup and saucer toward her.

“Sugar?”

“No, thank you,” she said, taking a sip of the bitter drink.

“Cucumber sandwich?”

It was strange to watch Aphrodite play hostess, and Persephone got the impression she was being so courteous because of the role she wanted her to fill in finding Harmonia’s attackers.

“No, thank you,” Persephone said.

Silence followed, and it was Harmonia who broke it with a soft clearing of her throat.

“I suppose you are here to speak with me,” she said, her voice was low and soothing, she spoke carefully but lyrically.

Persephone hesitated, her eyes shifting to Aphrodite for a second. “If you are feeling well enough.

We need to know what happened last night.”

She couldn’t tell how Harmonia felt about taking them through the trauma of her encounter with her attackers. She didn’t flinch or blink. It was as if she were locking up all her emotions in an effort to communicate with them.

“Where shall I start?” She asked and looked to Hades.

“Where were you when you were attacked?” he asked.

“I was in Concorida Park,” she said.

Concorida Park was in New Athens. It was large and had many wooded paths.

“In the snow?” Persephone asked.

She offered a small smile. “I go for a walk there every afternoon with Opal,” she said. The fluffy white dog in her lap grunted. “We took our usual route. I didn’t sense anything untoward—no violence or animosity before they attacked.”

The fact that Harmonia walked through the park often and took the same route probably meant that someone knew her routine and planned the attack. The snow also ensured few witnesses.

“How did it happen?” Hades asked. “What do you remember first?”

“Something heavy consumed me,” she answered. “Whatever it was, took me to the ground. I could not move, and I could not summon my power.”

There was a long stretch of silence and then Harmonia began again.

“It was easy for them after that—they came out of the woods, masked. What I remember most was the pain in my back—a knee settled on my spine as someone took my horns and sawed them off.”

“No one came to your aid?” Persephone asked.

“There was no one,” Harmonia said and shook her head. “Only these people who hate me for being something I cannot help.”

“After they took your horns, what did they do?” Hades asked. The question was careful, but almost made Persephone cringe.

“They kicked and punched and spit upon me,” she answered.

“Did they say anything while they…attacked you?”

“They said all sorts of things,” she said. “Broken things.”

She paused for a moment, her lashes gathering with tears. “They used words like whore and bitch and abomination, and they sometimes strung them together into a question like where is your power now? It was as if they thought I was a goddess of battle, as if I had done some sort of wrong against them. All I could think is that I could have brought them peace and instead they brought me agony.”

Persephone did not know what to say, perhaps that was because there was nothing to say. She had no ability to understand the people who had hurt Harmonia or their motive. It was hate, pure and simple. Hate for what she was and nothing more.

“Is there anything else you remember? Anything that you can recall now that would help us find these people?” Hades continued. Then he added gently, “Take your time.”

Harmonia thought, and after a moment, she started to shake her head. “They used the word lemming,” she said. “They said you and your lemmings are all headed toward destruction when the rebirth begins.”

“Lemming,” Persephone repeated, and looked up at Hades. “That is what the woman at The Coffee House called me.”

She’d also heard the word rebirth before, in the article Helen had written about Triad. Were these masked attackers members? Or just rogue supporters?

Harmonia was quiet and lifted her slender, shaking hand to touch the broken horns at the front of her head.

“Why do you think they did it?” She whispered.

“To prove a point,” Hades replied.

“What is the point, Hades?” Aphrodite asked, the anger evident in her voice.

“That gods are expendable.”

Expendable.

Disposable.

Useless.

“And they wanted proof,” he added. “It won’t be long before news of your attack spreads whether we want it to or not.”

“Are you not the god of threats and violence?” Aphrodite asked. “Use your seedy underbelly to get ahead of this.”