A Touch of Malice (Hades x Persephone #3)(43)

It was wrong and the behavior was at the core of their society. Even among the goddesses, who were equal, or in some cases, more powerful, assault was used as a means of control and oppression. Hera was a prime example—deceived and raped by Zeus, she was so ashamed, she agreed to marry him. As his queen, even her role as Goddess of Marriage had become Zeus’s.

Beside her, Hades stiffened. She glanced at the God of the Dead whose jaw ticked. She knew Hades punished those who committed crimes against women and children severely—was he motivated by his brother’s actions? Had he ever punished Zeus?

"I’m sorry this happened to you,” Persephone said.

She stepped toward Lara, and the snakes that had kept her firmly in her seat, vanished into tendrils of smoke.

“Don’t,” Lara snapped. “I do not want your pity.”

Persephone halted. “I am not offering pity,” she replied. “But I would like to help you.”

“How can you help me?” she seethed.

The question hurt—it felt the same as when the woman had approached her in Nevernight and rebuked her. Still, she had to do something. She had never experienced the extent of Lara’s nightmare, but even then, Pirithous still haunted her in a way she never imagined.

“I know you did not do anything to deserve what happened to you,” Persephone said.

“Your words mean nothing while gods are still able to hurt,” she offered in a painful whisper.

Persephone could not speak because there was nothing to say. She could argue that not all gods were the same, but those words were not right for this time—and Lara was right, what did it matter that not all gods were the same when the ones who hurt went unpunished?

It was then she remembered something her mother had said.

Consequences for gods? No, Daughter, there are none.

The words made her sick and she clenched her firsts against them, swearing that one day, things would be different.

“How would you have Zeus punished?” Hades asked.

Both Persephone and Lara looked at him, surprised. Was he asking because he planned to do something about this? Persephone’s gaze shifted to Lara as she spoke.

“I would have him torn apart limb by limb and his body burned. I would have his soul fracture into millions of pieces until nothing was left but the whisper of his screams echoing in the wind.”

“And you think you can bring that justice?” Hades’ voice was low—a deadly challenge, and she realized that while she’d been here to sympathize, he was here to get to something else—her loyalty.

Lara glared. “Not me. Gods,” she said. “New ones.”

Her eyes took on a glassy, almost hopeful look, as if she were imagining what it would be like—a world with new gods.

“It will be a rebirth,” she whispered.

Rebirth. Lemming. They were words she’d heard before and they made Persephone think that Lara was connected to the same people who had attacked Harmonia and perhaps Adonis, and it sounded like they were desperate to usher in a new era of gods by any means possible.

“No,” Hades said—his voice seemed to thread through her, throwing her out of the strange possession she had been under. “It will be a massacre—and it will not be us who dies. It will be you.”

Persephone looked at Hades and took his hand.

“What happened to you was horrible,” Persephone said. “And you are right that Zeus should be punished. Will you not let us help you?”

“There is no hope for me.”

“There is always hope,” Persephone said. “It is all we have.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Hades spoke, “Ilias, take Miss Sotir to Hemlock Grove. She will be safe there.”

The woman stiffened. “So you will imprison you?”

“No,” Hades said. “Hemlock Grove is a safe house. The Goddess Hecate runs the facility for abused women and children. She will want to hear your story if you wish to tell her. Beyond that, you may do as you please.”

***

Persephone was exhausted and an ache was forming behind her eyes, spreading to her temples. She could count the days she’d slept through the night in the last three weeks on one hand. She cupped her coffee between her hands and sipped, her thoughts turning to Hades. Her heart clenched tight every time she thought of how he’d found her, broken and bleeding in their bed, his eyes full of panic and pain. She’d wanted to comfort him, but the only words she could find were ones to question her own sanity and perception of reality.

That had only seemed to irritate him.

She shivered, suddenly recalling the way her skin split as her magic roared to life, the way Hades had looked when he’d asked if she knew the difference between his touch and Pirithous’, how she’d cried in his arms until she fell asleep, waking later to find him returning to their room, face splattered with blood. The Persephone who had unknowingly invited the God of the Dead to play cards would have been fearful, disgusted, but she was no longer that goddess. She had been deceived and betrayed and broken and she saw Pirithous’ end as judgement and justice—even more so now that she’d heard Lara’s story.

She could hardly blame her for the attack. She’d channeled her pain in the only way that made sense to her. Surely Zeus saw that his actions were making organizations like Triad stronger?