A Touch of Ruin (Hades x Persephone #2)(26)

“I hope you have more in that bag,” the god replied. “Because this one’s for the present.”

Lexa snorted, and the door in front of them finally clicked. Sybil’s voice echoed through the intercom.

“It’s open, come on up.”

Hermes started forward, but Persephone put her hand out to stop him. “You can get the dolly.”

“Why do I have to get the dolly? I’m carrying the wine.”

Persephone took the bottle. “Now I’m carrying the wine. Dolly. Now.”

Hermes shoulders slumped as he relented and trudged toward the moving truck. He returned wheeling the dolly.

Lexa giggled. “You look awfully mortal, Hermes.”

The god’s eyes darkened. “Careful, mortal. I’m not above turning you into a goat for my own enjoyment.”

“Your enjoyment?” Lexa cackled. “That would be the best thing that ever happened to me.”

The three went up the elevator and were let out in the middle of Apollo’s living room.

Persephone wasn’t sure how to feel at seeing the luxury Sybil had been living in the last few months since graduation. There was no denying being employed as an oracle was a lucrative job, and the goddess felt that seeing all this made Sybil’s situation even worse. It made it tangible. She would be going from living in a high-rise penthouse with floor to ceiling windows, wood floors, stainless steel appliances, and the fanciest coffee machine Persephone had ever seen, to occupying her and Lexa’s small apartment from now until the foreseeable future.

Despite the extreme change in lifestyle, Sybil seemed in good spirits, almost as if moving out of this space was lifting a burden from her shoulders. She popped her head out of an adjoining room. Her blond hair spilled over her shoulder in loose waves. Her pretty, make-up free face aglow.

“In here, guys.”

They filed into her room. Persephone expected to find that it had more personality than the rest of the house, but she’d been wrong. Sybil’s room was just as colorless.

“Why is everything grey?”

“Oh, well, Apollo doesn’t like color,” she said.

“Who doesn’t like color?” Lexa asked, plopping down on Sybil’s bed.

“Apollo, apparently,” said Hermes, falling on the bed beside Lexa. “We should trash the place before we leave. That would really piss him off.”

Sybil paled, eyed widening.

Persephone placed her hands on her hips. “You’re the only one who would think that was funny and the only one who would survive his wrath.”

“You would too, Sephy. Hades would cut off Apollo’s balls before he got within an inch of you. I’m tempted to do it just so I can watch.”

“Hermes,” Persephone said pointedly. “You are really not being helpful.”

The god pouted. “I brought the dolly, didn’t I?”

“And now you need to use it. Up! Take these boxes down.”

Hermes grumbled, but rolled off the bed and Lexa followed.

They stacked boxes on the dolly, and while Hermes took them down, Persephone and Lexa helped Sybil pack the rest of her life. Persephone enjoyed the task, each box was a new challenge, and she liked to see just how much she could place in one box. When she was finished, she wrote a quick inventory on the side of the box to make unpacking easier.

When Hermes realized what she was doing, he snorted, shaking his head.

“What?” Persephone demanded.

“You’re just as regimented as Apollo.”

Persephone didn’t like being compared to the god. “What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you been paying attention to this place?” he looked around. “Everything in this place is arranged by type and color.”

“I’m organized, Hermes, not neurotic.”

“Apollo is disciplined. Ever since I’ve known him, he’s been that way.”

“If he’s so disciplined, why is he so...emotional?”

“Because Apollo takes pride in his routine—in the things he can create and execute, which means when he loses control, it’s personal.” Apollo glanced at Sybil. “Same goes for how he handles humans.”

Once they were finished, Sybil left her key on the shiny granite countertop in Apollo’s state-of-the-art kitchen, and the four piled into the moving van and left for the apartment.

“You’re not staying in the lines,” Persephone said, holding onto the grab handle as Lexa drove down the street.

“I can’t see,” Lexa complained, sitting up higher in the driver’s seat.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be driving,” Hermes commented.

“Does someone else want to drive?” she asked.

Everyone in the cabin was silent because none of them could drive.

“Just keep a lookout for pedestrians,” Persephone said.

“I’ll give you ten points if you hit someone,” Hermes offered.

“Is that supposed to entice me?” Lexa asked.

“Uh yeah, they’re Divine points.”

“What do Divine points get me?” Lexa asked, as if she were seriously considering his offer.

“A chance to be a goat,” he answered.

Persephone and Sybil exchanged a look. “If you are wondering if I regret introducing them to each other, the answer is yes.”