A Touch of Malice (Hades x Persephone #3)(64)

“Will you confront him about Lara?”

“Hecate already has,” Hades said. “It will take a good two years before his balls grow back.”

Persephone’s eyes widened.

“She…castrated him?”

“Yes,” Hades said. “And if I know Hecate, it was bloody and painful.”

“What good is his punishment if he can just regenerate?”

“It is a power that cannot be taken away, I am afraid. But at least, for a little while, he will be...less...of a problem.”

“Unless he denies our marriage,” Persephone said.

“There is that,” he agreed.

She wanted him to reassure her, to say that would not happen, that Zeus would not dare. Hades seemed to sense her unease, he secured his hands behind her neck and brought his forehead against hers.

“Trust, darling, I will let no one—not king or god or mortal—stand in the way of making you my wife.”

***

Persephone returned to her floor and found Sybil, Leuce, and Zofie at Helen’s desk. It was adjacent to Persephone’s and decorated simplistically—with marble and gold accents.

“What’s going on?”

“Zofie filled us in on Helen,” Leuce said. “So, I thought I’d go through her things.”

“Because…?”

“Because she’s been hiding things,” the nymph said.

“How do you know?”

“I have been watching her,” she said. “She would take phone calls out of the office. I thought it was weird, so I followed her one day.”

“And?”

“And she was meeting some guy who kept glorifying Triad…and himself,” she said. “I think they’re sleeping together.”

“What did he look like?”

“A demi-god,” she said, and her lips twisted into a look of disgust. “A son of Poseidon if I had to guess. It’s in the eyes.”

Theseus, she thought.

“When were you going to tell me?”

“Today,” Leuce said. “That’s why Helen went to you this morning—she wanted to get to you first.”

Persephone lowered her gaze to Helen’s desk. It was neat and organized. She had varying researched stored in file folders and labeled in clean handwriting.

Sybil was looking through a small, black book.

“What’s that?” Persephone asked.

“Notes,” the oracle said. “Just trying to see if she left anything useful.”

“I say we burn her things,” Zofie said. “Leave no trace of her treason.”

“I wouldn’t call her a traitor,” Persephone said and searched for the words—confused, foolish, delusional all came to mind.

“She’s a climber,” Sybil said. “She’s searching for an opportunity that will get her to the top fast. It’s why she left New Athens News with you. She thought she could ride to the top with you.”

“Did you see that in her colors?”

“Red, yellow, orange, a touch of green for jealousy.”

“You knew all of that by looking at her and you didn’t warn us?” Leuce countered.

Sybil looked up from the black book. “I saw ambition when I looked at her. It can be a positive or negative trait. I didn’t know how she was going to use it.”

“I don’t think any of us did,” Persephone said.

“Sephy, it’s lunch time!”

Hermes appeared beside her suddenly, singing. She jumped, not expecting him so soon but as her eyes darted to the clock, she saw it was almost noon. Time had gotten away from her.

“It’ll be a few minutes, Hermes—what are you wearing?”

It looked like a romper and was army green in color.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and twisted.

“You don’t like it? I call it my lounge suit.”

“And…you’re going to lunch in it?”

Hermes glared. “Just say you don’t like it, Sephy. You won’t hurt my feelings and yes, I fully intend to go to lunch in my lounge suit.”

“Um, Persephone,” Sybil said. “I think you should take a look at this.”

“Oh no you don’t!” Hermes wrapped a hand around her arm to hold her in place.

“Hermes, let go of me.”

He pursed his lips. “But…I’m hungry!”

She glared and he released her, grumbling. “Fine.”

The oracle handed over the open book. On one of the pages, Helen had drawn a triangle and then scribbled in a date, address, and time. The date was today, the time, eight this evening.

“Leuce—can you look into this?”

“Wait. Let me see,” Hermes said.

“I thought you were hungry,” Persephone shot back.

“Stop reminding me,” Hermes said through his teeth and snatched the black book from her hands.

He spent a minute studying the page and then said, “That is the address for Club Aphrodisia.”

“Does that…belong to Aphrodite?”

“No, a mortal owns it,” he said. “He calls himself Master.”

Sybil and Leuce giggled.

“What kind of club is it?” Persephone asked, though she thought she could guess.