A Touch of Ruin (Hades x Persephone #2)(79)

When Persephone and Hecate arrived, the souls swarmed. She wasn’t sure why, but today, their excitement, kindness and clear devotion to her brought tears to her eyes. Maybe it had something to do with her conversation with Hecate. She’d always known the people of the Underworld considered her a goddess, more than that, they’d immediately accepted her as part of their world, and hinted at her potential to become Queen of the Underworld and all she’d ever done was resist.

She was afraid.

Afraid she would somehow disappoint them like she had disappointed her mother, like she had disappointed Hades.

She took a deep breath, forcing down the emotion thick within her throat and pretended like everything was fine. She helped finalize decisions for the solstice celebration, tasted samplings of various meals, approved decor, and played with the children before returning to the Upperworld.

When she arrived home, she broke down.

Sybil didn’t ask any questions, more than likely, she had already guessed what had happened. The oracle just held her as she cried herself to sleep.

Before work the next day, Persephone stopped by the hospital only to find that Lexa was asleep.

“She woke up briefly,” Eliska said. “But she was very confused. The doctor gave her a sedative.”

“Confused?”

Persephone’s anxiety spiked, making her stomach feel sick.

“They think it’s temporary psychosis,” she explained. “It isn’t unusual for patients who have been in the ICU.”

Psychosis. Temporary.

Her relief was immediate. It was probably too much to expect that Lexa would bounce back. Still, Persephone had let her hopes rise. She’d thought that Divine magic would work differently from traditional medicine. That when Apollo talked about miracles, it would mean skipping the recovery, too.

“Persephone, are you alright?” Eliska asked.

The goddess met the mortal’s gaze and nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. Will you...text me when Lexa wakes up?”

“Of course, dear,” she paused, studying her. Whatever Eliska was seeing in Persephone’s expression had her suspicious because she asked again, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

No, Persephone thought. My whole world is falling apart.

She nodded. “Yeah, just...tired.”

She felt silly saying that. Eliska was tired, too. “I understand. I promise to text you as soon as Lexa wakes.”

She reached for Persephone, hugging her close. “I’m so thankful Lexa has a friend like you.”

Persephone swallowed hard, and her eyes watered. Again, Hades words erupted in her mind.

You should know that your actions have condemned Lexa to a fate worse than death.

They’d attached themselves to her, like a leech, hungry for blood. They made her head and heart ache. They made her want to scream.

I am not a good friend. I am not a good lover. I am not a good goddess.

***

Work was awkward.

Persephone didn’t feel comfortable around Demetri since learning about the bargain he’d made with Apollo. To make matters worse, he had resorted to assigning her menial tasks like making copies, verifying another co-worker’s work, and delegated some research he was supposed to do on a privacy law. He’d sent her the to-do list in an email with an end of day deadline, which meant she couldn’t work on any of the stories she had in her queue.

She rapped on Demetri’s open door.

“Have a moment?” she asked when he looked up from his tablet.

“Not really,” he said. “Another time?”

“It’s about the to-do list.”

Demetri took off his glasses and stared at her. “It’s three things, Persephone. How hard can it be?”

His comment flustered her. “It isn’t,” she snapped. “But I have other stories—”

“Not today,” he cut her off. “Today, you have three things to accomplish by five.”

Persephone set her teeth so hard, she thought her jaw might break.

“Close the door as you leave.”

She slammed it. Probably not the best move, but it was better than filling the guy with holes from the thorns she wanted to throw at him. She took a few breaths, deciding it would be best if she just got through the tasks Demetri had assigned.

When she was finished, she could comb through the information she’d received over the last few weeks trying to decide on her next story.

She had several options available to her and a million lines of inquiry, but the information she gravitated toward always included her mother. The Goddess of Harvest should be renamed the Goddess of Divine Punishment because she was definitely fond of torture and her methods were vicious, often forcing mortals into starvation or cursing them with an unquenchable hunger. Now and then, when she was really pissed off, she would create famine, killing off whole populations.

My mother is the worst, Persephone thought.

By the time lunch rolled around, Persephone was entertaining herself with thoughts of writing about Demeter. She could see the headline in black, bold letters:

Nurturing Goddess of Harvest Deprives Whole Populations of Food.

Then she cringed, imagining the fallout.

It was likely Demeter would take revenge and probably in the most devastating way Persephone could imagine—revealing that she was actually Demeter’s daughter.