A Touch of Malice (Hades & Persephone #3)(49)

“You are probably right to not shake my hand. Have a good day, my lady.”

He brushed past her and she watched until he had left the office, not really trusting to give him her back. Once he was gone, Hades spoke.

“Are you well?”

She turned to find that Hades had moved silently across the room toward her.

“Do you know that man?” Persephone asked.

“As well as I know any enemy,” Hades replied.

“Enemy?”

He nodded toward the closed door where the demi-god had disappeared.

“That man is the leader of Triad,” he replied.

She had questions—so many of them, but when Hades’ hand touched her chin, tears came to her eyes.

“Tell me,” he said.

“The news,” she whispered. “There’s been a horrible accident.”

He didn’t seem surprised, and Persephone wondered if he’d already sensed the death.

“Come,” he said. “We will greet them at the gates.”





CHAPTER XIV – THE TEMPLE OF SANGRI

Persephone had often come to the pier to greet new souls who crossed the River Styx on Charon’s ferry, but this time, Hades teleported to the opposite side of the shore—to the Gates of the Underworld. It was cold here, as if the air from the Upperworld were seeping through the ground, but she hardly noticed because seeing the gates in person left her breathless.

They were as tall as the mountains they were built into and made of black iron. The bottom of the gates had been crafted into a line of narcissus, and from them sprouted spiraling vines decorated with flora and pomegranates, their raised edges glinted gold beneath the muted sky, which extended over their heads, but disappeared into a strange and terrifying darkness around them. Beyond the gates was a great elm. Persephone could feel its age, even from this distance. It was as old as Hades and its roots when deep, its limbs heavy with orbs of bright, bluish light.

“What clings to that tree?” she asked Hades.

“Dreams,” he replied, looking at her. “Those who enter the Underworld must leave them behind.”

There was a certain sadness that overtook her at the thought, but she also understood—there was no room for dreams in the Underworld because life here meant existing without burden, without challenge. Life here meant rest.

“Must all souls walk through these gates?” Her voice was quiet because, for some reason, this space felt sacred.

“Yes,” Hades answered. “It is the journey they must take to accept their death. Believe it or not, it was once more frightening than this.”

Persephone’s gaze met his. “I did not mean that it was frightening.”

He offered a small smile and touched her lips with his finger. “And yet you tremble.”

“I tremble because it is cold,” she said. “Not out of fear. It is very beautiful here, but it is also…

overwhelming. I can feel your power here, stronger than anywhere else in the Underworld.”

“Perhaps that is because this is the oldest part of the Underworld,” he said.

A cloak appeared in Hades’ hands, and he shrugged it around Persephone’s shoulders.

“Better?” He asked.

“Yes,” she whispered.

In the next second, both Hermes and Thanatos appeared. Their wings were wrapped around them like a cloak, then they unfolded, expanding and stretching, nearly filling the space in which they stood to reveal a handful of souls. There were about twenty in total, all various ages, ranging from what Persephone guessed was a five-year-old to sixty-year-old. The five-year-old arrived with her father, the sixty-year-old with his wife.

Thanatos swept into a bow.

“Lord Hades, Lady Persephone,” he said. “We…will return.”

“There are more?” Persephone asked, her eyes wide, staring at the God of Death.

He nodded grimly.

“It’s alright, Sephy,” Hermes said. “Just focus on making them feel welcome.”

The two gods vanished, and as they did, the father of the five-year-old fell to his knees.

“Please,” he begged. “Take me but do not take my daughter! She is too young!”

“You have arrived at the Gates of the Underworld,” Hades replied. “I am afraid I cannot change your Fate.”

Before, Persephone might have found Hades’ words to be callous, but they were the truth.

She did not think it was possible for the man to look any paler, but he managed it and screamed, “You are a liar! You are the God of the Dead! You can change her Fate!”

Persephone took a step forward. She felt as if she were shielding Hades from this man’s rage.

“Lord Hades may be God of the Dead, but he is not the weaver of your thread,” she said. “Do not fear, mortal father, and be brave for your daughter. Your existence here will be peaceful.”

She turned her attention to the daughter then and knelt before her. She was adorable, small with blonde, curly pigtails and dimples.

“Hi,” she said, quietly. “My name is Persephone. What’s your name?”

“Lola,” the girl replied.

“Lola,” she said with a smile. “I am glad you are here and with your father, too. That is lucky.”