A Touch of Chaos (Hades x Persephone Saga Book 7)

Persephone had wandered into the garden and followed the winding stone path until she reached her garden plot—the one Hades had given her when he had challenged her to create life in the Underworld. It was no longer barren but teeming with shoots of green, the leaves real and waxy.

She recalled what Hades had said when she’d first laid eyes on his realm. “If it is a garden you wish to create, then it will truly be the only life here.”

She’d never imagined bearing witness to the truth of those words in this manner, but Hades’s magic was fading around her.

The ache in her chest deepened. It felt wrong to be here, waiting for tomorrow when they knew where Hades was being held today, but they’d needed some time to plan, mostly for the rescue of Phaedra, which only added another complicated layer.

Persephone did not know what to think of Dionysus and Ariadne. She had not expected to arrive and witness the two locked in a passionate embrace while also covered in blood.

Persephone’s knowledge about Dionysus extended to his collection of wines and his club, which was known for its wild sex parties, drugs, and, of course, alcohol. She’d heard rumors about his lust-filled trek across the world, about the bloody horror of it all, and tonight she felt like she’d witnessed a fraction of it when they’d arrived at his house unannounced, though she could not really blame him. Hermes did not often have the best timing, yet they did not have the luxury of time.

Even now, she wondered if tomorrow would be too late.

“You should be resting,” said Hecate. “The labyrinth will require strength.”

Persephone turned to look at the goddess as she approached, cradling a fluffy black cat. Even in the moonlight, its eyes flashed a vibrant green.

“Is that a human, Hecate?” she asked, suspicious, knowing the goddess’s penchant for turning mortals who irritated her into whatever she pleased.

“This is a cat,” Hecate said, looking down at the animal. “Her name is Galanthis. I want you to take her into the labyrinth with you.”

“Why?”

“In case there are mice,” she said.

Persephone raised a brow, but she didn’t ask for clarification, knowing that was the only explanation she would get. She shifted her gaze to the garden again.

“I have been thinking about what I want most,” Persephone said.

She thought if she could anticipate what the labyrinth would offer, she might more easily say no. The reality was that she hadn’t thought beyond what she wanted in the present, which was to rescue Hades, but she had a feeling the labyrinth would demand more than that.

“Have you decided?” Hecate asked.

“What if it isn’t a choice?” Persephone asked, looking at the goddess.

“Explain,” said Hecate.

“What if I’m faced with something I did not know I wanted?”

One’s greatest desire seemed like something else entirely, not so much a choice but something formed around what she’d lacked all her life.

She felt Hecate’s eyes on her.

“What are you afraid it will show you?” the Goddess of Witchcraft asked.

Persephone was quiet for a long moment before she spoke, a whispered fear she released into the night. “Everything Hades said he could never give me.”

The silence was long and the guilt heavy.

“Are you afraid knowing will make you love Hades less?” Hecate asked.

“No, of course not,” Persephone said, meeting Hecate’s gaze. “But I am afraid to hurt him.” She couldn’t bear that. She looked away quickly. “I should not have said anything. I don’t even know what I will see.”

“I think you know exactly what you will see.” The goddess paused and offered a small smile. “Desires change, Persephone. Tonight, you may want something you do not want tomorrow.”

Persephone frowned. She didn’t really wish to entertain her fears, but she needed to say it—to speak the words so her doubt existed somewhere outside her body.

“What if I can’t do this, Hecate?”

“Oh, my dear,” Hecate said, taking a step closer. She brushed her cheek, and Persephone let her eyes flutter close. “You can. You will. You have no choice.”

Persephone did not sleep. She rose early in the morning before the sky brightened with Hades’s muted sun and made her way to Elysium, hoping the peace of the Isle of the Blessed would seep into her bones and ease her anxiety, but even as she sat on a grassy hill looking out over the quiet landscape, dread followed.

No part of the Underworld remained untouched by Theseus’s attack, and Persephone knew that would soon be the same for the entire world.

She did not know how long she sat there, her mind tumbling over everything that had happened in the last few days—not only by Theseus’s hand but also Helen’s.

Persephone hoped her statement regarding Helen’s article quelled some of the mistrust it had inspired. It seemed so trivial to worry over public perception when so much in her world was falling apart, but the fact was that Demeter’s storm had caused so much unrest and anger. Mortals were looking for any excuse to shift their worship, and the demigods—who presented as honorable advocates for the downtrodden—looked more and more appealing as the mistakes of the gods were laid bare.

Right now, that was her greatest fear, and it would only make them stronger, their power greater. Given that they had already managed to wound and kill gods, they were a true threat to the reign of the Olympians.

“The system is broken,” Tyche had said. “Something new must take its place.”

But they didn’t just need something new. They needed something right. Otherwise, they would just trade one evil for another.

Persephone knew Zeus would not go down without a fight. The question was, would he be looking in the right direction when the attack came? Right now, he seemed to consider her a greater threat to his throne than Theseus.

Either way, she knew one thing for certain—the gods would go to war, they would face another Titanomachy, and no matter the outcome, the world would suffer.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, but the tension in her chest did not ease. She had come here to escape dread, but all she’d managed was to create more.

As the sky brightened, Persephone caught movement in the distance. It was Lexa.

She straightened at the soul’s approach. All the times she had come to Elysium, she had been the one to seek Lexa out. It had never been the opposite. Persephone’s heart hammered in her chest the closer her friend came, wondering if something was wrong or if this was merely a sign of her improvement.

Lexa filled the empty space beside Persephone, and she turned to watch as Lexa pulled her knees to her chest, matching her pose.

“Is everything okay?” Persephone asked after they had sat in silence for a few moments.

Lexa’s dark brows lowered, and then she rested her head against her knees, angling her face toward Persephone.

She still did not meet her gaze.

“I think I have made Thanatos mad,” Lexa said.

Persephone jerked her head back in surprise, which was probably an overreaction, but that was honestly the last thing she’d expected her to say.

“Why would he be mad?”

Persephone had only seen Thanatos angry a few times. She was not even sure she would call it angry so much as frustrated, but both times, it had been over Lexa.

“Because I kissed him.”

“You kissed Thanatos?”

Persephone could not help her giddiness. It shot through her, warm and steady, a welcome distraction from the darkness of her thoughts.

Despite Persephone’s excitement, Lexa was subdued. Clearly whatever had happened in the aftermath had made her feel uncertain.

“I doubt that made him mad,” Persephone said gently.

“He told me it shouldn’t have happened,” Lexa said. “Does that sound mad enough?”

Persephone hesitated a moment, caught off guard by how much that last sentence sounded like something the old Lexa would say but also frustrated with Thanatos for being one of those idiots.

Everyone who was anyone knew he cared for Lexa in a way that was different from other souls. From the day she arrived in the Underworld, he had been protective of her, to the point that he had even tried to keep her from Persephone.

“Hold on,” Persephone said, shifting on the grass to face Lexa. “Tell me everything.”

“I…don’t know where to start,” Lexa said, cheeks flushed.

It was strange watching Lexa blush, because it was something the old Lexa would never have done. Just when Persephone thought she recognized her best friend, she didn’t.

“Start from the beginning.”

“I…don’t know how it began,” Lexa said.

“Where were you when you kissed?” Persephone asked instead.

“We were lying under a tree,” Lexa said.

Well, that sounded intimate.

“Sometimes we sit together at night, and Thanatos tells me about his day. Usually, conversation is easy, but last night, it wasn’t. I don’t even know why. Nothing happened. I was just frustrated.”

“So you kissed him?” Persephone asked.

“Yes,” Lexa said.

Persephone tried not to smile, because Lexa was taking this so seriously. She wanted to tell her that it was likely she and Thanatos were suffering from sexual frustration, and being in each other’s presence just exasperated it.

“And what did he do?”

“He kissed me too.”

Persephone paused and then leaned forward a little. “How?”

“How?”

“How did he kiss you? Did he use his tongue?”

“Persephone!”

“It’s a valid question!” She couldn’t help it; she was grinning. Before her death, Lexa would have demanded the same details from Persephone. That Lexa no longer existed. This one was new to these feelings. “You can tell me.”

“He did,” Lexa finally said, bowing her head so her hair curtained her face.

“Did you like it?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, straightening her legs and then lying back in the grass. “But he must not have.”

Persephone twisted her body so she could hold Lexa’s gaze. “I highly doubt that,” she said. “He is just afraid.”

“That’s ridiculous. Why would he be afraid?”

“I don’t know. Knowing Thanatos, he probably made up some rule that says he can’t fall in love with a soul.” Persephone rolled her eyes at the thought.

“If he believes that, then he won’t fall in love with me,” said Lexa.

“That is not true,” Persephone said. “I know he cares for you.”

He was probably already in love.

Lexa frowned and then looked up at the sky. “What do I do?”

“Do you like him?”

“Yes,” she said. “Very much.”

“Then tell him,” Persephone said. “And he will likely tell you that you cannot be together, and when he does, ask why.”

“And what do I do when he tells me why?”

“I think you have two options depending on what he says,” she said. “You can kiss him, or you can leave him.”

“Leave him?”

“Yes, leave him. Especially if he tells you that you cannot be together.”

Lexa frowned. “Then what do I do?”

“You live,” she said. “You live as if he’d told you yes.”

Before Persephone left Elysium, she cast a quick glance across the landscape in search of her mother. When Lexa died, she had visited almost every day, even when she had not been allowed to approach her. She felt no such urge with Demeter. She wasn’t even sure why she was looking for her now, save that she was curious.

She caught sight of her in the distance, recognizing the golden hue of her hair and her tall and graceful silhouette as she stared off into the gray horizon.

She was alone, which was typical of the souls who resided within the Isle of the Blessed. They came here with no memories of their former lives to heal. Eventually, most would move into Asphodel. Some would reincarnate.

Persephone did not know what would happen to her mother. Perhaps she would never leave this place.

There was a part of her that felt sad that this was Demeter’s existence in the Underworld—she was just as alone here as she had been in the Upperworld. It was something Persephone had never thought long on before, but she saw it now.

“Leave with me now, and we can forget this ever happened,” Demeter had begged when they faced off in the arsenal, but there was no forgetting, because by the end of it, she had hurt Persephone too many times, and there was no coming back from that, no pretending it never happened.

Suddenly, her chest felt tight, and her heart ached. She hadn’t had time to dwell on how everything had come to an end, and truly, she could not afford to now.

She had to focus on Hades.

That feeling in her chest grew sharper.

Hades.

She tried to imagine what it would be like to see him again after the horror Theseus had likely put him through, the extent of which she could only imagine given how the Impious and Triad had treated Adonis, Harmonia, and Tyche. The thought made her sick.

There was no way he was coming back the same, but she would love him through it, no matter how many pieces she had to hold together.

Persephone stopped by her suite to check on Harmonia. Aphrodite was still there, curled up beside her on the bed, asleep. Sybil sat near the fireplace working. She met Persephone’s gaze over her computer as the goddess approached.

“No change?”

“No change,” Sybil said.

Persephone frowned and studied her oracle for a moment. Her eyes looked dark, almost bruised.

“Have you slept?” she asked.

Sybil shook her head. “I have been working on an article for The Advocate about your life based on what you’ve told me,” said Sybil. “I know this isn’t your top priority, but while you work on rescuing Hades, I can work on how the public perceives you.”

Persephone sank into the chair opposite her, suddenly feeling the burden of everything that had taken place over the last few days and what lay ahead.

“It seems so ridiculous, doesn’t it? To care what they think…but I do.”

“You care because you know the truth,” Sybil said.

“My truth is not everyone’s truth,” said Persephone.

There were mortals and immortals alike who had experienced a different Demeter—one who had granted them favor, offered them prosperity and abundance in whatever form they’d wished.

“That does not make what you went through any less valid,” said Sybil.

Persephone said nothing. Though the oracle’s words eased her anxiety, their conversation had opened another angry wound. She had deserved the same kindness Demeter had shown others. No one had shown her that more than Hades and his realm. Strangers had treated her better than her mother, the woman who had claimed to want her desperately.

She could not make sense of it now, and she cast her gaze toward the bed where Harmonia and Aphrodite lay.

“What does Hecate say about her wound?” Persephone asked.

Sybil’s eyes followed. “She says we may have to resort to using the Golden Fleece.”

Persephone had not heard about the Golden Fleece since studying Jason and the Argonauts in college. Jason, the rightful king of Iolcos, was sent away by his uncle, Pelias, to retrieve the fleece, a task he believed impossible. Successful, Jason was able to reclaim his throne, and the fleece came to represent kingship, but its real power was that it could heal.

“You are reluctant?” Persephone asked.

Sybil hesitated. “It’s not using it that worries me. It’s obtaining it,” she said and paused. “Hecate says the fleece hangs in a tree guarded by a dragon within Ares’s sacred grove.”

“Ares,” Persephone said. “But that should be easy. Aphrodite—”

Sybil shook her head. “Zeus has forbidden anyone from helping those who betrayed him.”

Persephone wondered how Zeus would know. Was his decree bound with magic?

“We must find another way,” Sybil said.

Perhaps Hades will know. Persephone thought the words but did not say them aloud. She wasn’t sure why, but there was a part of her that feared her hope, because she knew what she would become if Hades was taken from her. It would be like letting the evils of Pandora’s box into the world again, only she would be behind the chaos.

Before long, it was time to leave. Persephone met Hecate in the foyer of the palace. The goddess handed her Galanthis, the black cat she’d instructed her to take into the labyrinth.

“Do not worry about her. She will take care of herself and you,” said Hecate. Then she placed her hands on either side of Persephone’s face. They were cold, and she shivered beneath her touch. “Many of us have relied on magic too long to try solving problems without it, but you—you have had to live most of your life as a mortal. There is no one better suited for the labyrinth than you.”

Persephone took a deep breath, trying to ease the anxiety bubbling in her chest. It didn’t work, but her words were comforting.

“Thank you, Hecate,” she said, her voice quiet.

The Goddess of Witchcraft smiled and dropped her hands. She might have looked like a proud mother if it wasn’t for the hint of fear in her eyes.

“You can do this, Persephone.”

Persephone said nothing, just held the cat tighter as she called on her magic and left the Underworld.