A Touch of Malice (Hades x Persephone #3)(118)

“Demeter?” Persephone repeated, and she released the mortal’s throat. Ben gasped and fell to his side. Tears streamed down his face as he groveled, hands and feet still bound.

“You knew who I was,” Persephone said.

Ben had a reason to attach himself to Sybil. It was because Sybil was close to her.

It is only a matter of time before someone with a vendetta against me tries to harm you.

They were words Hades had spoken—a fear he’d had as their relationship became more public. Persephone had never considered that those words would ring true for her.

“Tell me everything!” Persephone demanded.

Ben attempted to scurry away, but he was held in place by her vines.

“There is nothing to tell! I gave you the prophecy!”

“You did not give me a prophecy, you gave me a threat from my mother,” she raged.

“I was only given words to speak,” he cried. “Your mother threatened Sybil, not me!”

As she stared down at the man, she noted a wetness pooling beneath him. The mortal had pissed himself, but it wasn’t his fear that convinced her he was telling the truth, it was that she knew he believed he was a true oracle—he did not recognize that he, himself, was a tool of her mother’s.

“Trust, mortal, if anything happens to Sybil, I will personally greet you at the Gates of the Underworld and escort you to Tartarus.”

His punishment would be brutal, and it would involve severed limbs.

She rose then, her anger subsiding into something that felt a lot like grief—what if she couldn’t find Sybil? Ben had been her only lead. Then her gaze shifted to the other mortals in the café, and she found that while some glared at her, others were riveted on the television where breaking news streamed.

Deadly Avalanche Strikes, Thousands Presumed Dead

No.

No, no, no.

Heavy snowfall is believed to be the cause of the deadly Avalanche which has buried the cities of Sparta and Thebes under several hundred feet of snow. Rescue workers have been dispatched.

Persephone’s whole body felt warm, primed with anger and magic.

And then something struck her in the head. She looked in time to see an orange hit the ground and roll away.

Her head snapped in the direction it had come and a man yelled, “God-fucker!”

“This is your fault!” A woman yelled, picking up her plate and throwing it at Persephone. It hit her arm, and fell to the floor, shattering.

More food, objects, and words followed.

“Lemming!” Another yelled, throwing their coffee at her.

The ground began to shake, and Persephone knew if she didn’t leave, she would bring the whole building down and, despite their assault, they did not deserve death. With a final look at the television, she teleported.



CHAPTER XXXIV – A BATTLE BETWEEN GODS


She arrived at the site of the avalanche which stretched for miles—every direction was a blanket of bright white. There were signs of a city—toppled buildings, broken trees, wood and twisted metal jutted out from the snow, but the worst part of it all was the silence. It was the sound of death—of an end.

As she stood there amid the devastation, pieces of food that had stuck to her hair and clothing fell to the ground and it spurred something inside her—a desire to end her mother’s reign once and for all. She reached for her magic—for what life remained around her, drawing upon its energy, upon her anger, upon the darkness inside her that wished for revenge, and as she released it, she thought of every beautiful thing she had ever wanted to create—the nymphs she had wanted to protect from her mother, the flowers she had wanted to grow, the lives she had wanted to save.

The magic built behind a dam of emotion, and when it burst, it streamed from her in a wave of bright light that made her eyes water and her skin hot. The snow began to melt beneath her feet, and in the gruesome aftermath of the avalanche, amid the rubble and debris, grass grew, flowers sprouted, trees straightened and bloomed—even the sky above split at her command, the clouds parting to show blue skies.

Then vines rose from the ground, lifting and righting whole buildings and houses, repairing the structures until they were covered in greenery and flowering blooms. The landscape no longer resembled a white desert or a metal city, but a forest of colorful and fragrant flowers, emerald vegetation, and pure, bright sunlight.

Still, the silence reigned and there was a new sensation that played upon the edges of her mind, much like the life that fluttered there—but this one was dark, a curl of smoke, teasing and mocking.

It was death.

She might be able to bring life to part of this world, but not all of it.

She was distracted from her sorrow when she felt a terrible power coming from the sky. It was both wicked and pure and it crowded into her soul, raising the hair on her arms and the back of her neck. Then Olympians fell from the sky, landing in a circle around her—except for Hermes and Apollo who landed on either side of her, sightly in front, as if to defend.

Hermes was dressed in gold armor and a leather linothorax. His helm boasted a set of wings that matched the ones sprouting from his back. Beside him, Apollo wore a similar outfit, only a halo of spikes protruded along the top like a sunburst.

Hermes looked over his shoulder and grinned.

“Hey, Sephy,” he said.

“Hey, Hermes,” she replied quietly, unsure of what to make of the presence of the gods, and yet knowing this was not good.