A Touch of Malice (Hades & Persephone #3)(98)

Persephone thought that was strange and remember that Hades had mentioned relics sourced from the black market but what if they’d been taken from museums?

My mother will hide in plain sight.

Persephone dialed Ivy at the front desk.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Ivy, have Antoni bring the car around. I will be stepping out for a few minutes.”

“Of course,” there was a pause and then she added. “And...what should I tell Lord Hades? If he asks where you’ve gone?”

Persephone stiffened at the question. She was frustrated with Hades, but she also didn’t want him to worry.

“You may tell him I’ve gone to The Museum of Ancient Greece,” Persephone replied and hung up the phone.

She put on her jacket and headed downstairs, passing Ivy’s desk.

“Enjoy your outing, my lady,” Ivy said as she left the building.

Persephone made her way down the icy steps. Antoni waited, smiling despite the cold.

“My Lady,” he said opening the door to the Lexus.

“Antoni,” she said with a smile as she slid into the warm cabin. As the cyclops entered the driver’s side, he asked, “Where to, my lady?”

“The Museum of Ancient Greece.”

Antoni’s forehead wrinkled, a mark of his surprise.

“Research?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered. “You could call it that.”

The Museum of Ancient Greece was located at the center of New Athens. Antoni let her out at the curb, and she made her way through the courtyard, toward a set of marble steps and the entrance of the building. Persephone had visited the museum many times, usually on sunny days when the square was packed with people. Today, though, the landscape was barren and slippery, the marble statues that were usually blinding beneath the light, were buried under heaps of snow.

Upon entering the museum and going through security, she paused to take a breath, attempting to scent out her mother’s magic but all she could smell was coffee, cleaners, and dust. She wandered through exhibits, each one dedicated to a different era of Ancient Greece. The displays were beautiful, the items arranged elegantly. Despite the intrigue, it was the people she trained her gaze upon, searching for familiarity in their expressions or their body movement. It was challenging to identify a god if they had manipulated their glamour too much.

She was not sure how long she wandered the museum, but after an hour, she’d made her rounds through every exhibit, save for the children’s wing. As she stared at its entrance—brightly colored with an exaggerated font and cartoonish columns, she caught a familiar smell—a musky, citrus that made her blood run cold.

Demeter.

Her heart beat harder as she stepped further and further into the colorful and interactive wing, passing wax statues and models of ancient buildings, following the scent of Demeter’s magic until she found her at the center of a group of children. She had definitely taken steps to hide her true identity, appearing older with greying hair and a few more wrinkles, however, she still maintained that haughty air that was so reminiscent of her mother.

It appeared she was giving a tour, and right now she was explaining the history of the Panhellenic Games and their importance in their culture.

This is not what she had imagined, even when she’d guessed Demeter was hiding in plain sight.

Watching her with the children was like watching another god. She was no longer severe and there was a light to her eyes Persephone had not seen since she was very young. Then Demeter looked up and met Persephone’s gaze, and all of that kindness melted away. The moment was brief—a flicker of disappointment and anger and disgust—before she turned her gaze back to the children, a smile dancing across her facing so wide, her eyes creased.

“Why don’t you spend some time exploring? I’ll be here if you have any questions. Run along!”

“Thank you, Ms. Doso!” The children said in unison.

Persephone did not move once the children spirited away, but Demeter turned toward her, narrowing her eyes, lifting her chin into the air.

“Have you come to kill me?”

Persephone flinched. “No.”

“Then you have come to reprimand me.”

Persephone did not respond immediately.

“Well?” Demeter’s tone was sharp.

“I know what happened to you…before I was born,” Persephone said, noting the surprise in Demeter gaze, in the way her lips parted. Still, it was only a moment of weakness, a moment where Persephone glimpsed her mother’s true pain and anguished before she buried it again, scowling.

“Are you claiming to understand me now?”

“I would never pretend to know what you have gone through,” Persephone said. “But I wish I had known.”

“And what would that have changed?”

“Nothing, save that I might have spent less time angry with you.”

Demeter offered a savage smile. “Why regret anger? It feeds so many things.”

“Like your revenge?”

“Yes,” she hissed.

“You know you can stop this,” Persephone said. “There is no fighting Fate.”

“Do you believe that?” Demeter asked. “Given the fate of Tyche?”

Persephone’s lips flattened. It was Demeter’s admission.