A Touch of Malice (Hades x Persephone Saga Book 3)

Persephone headed to work early Monday morning. She had received an email from Helen late last night asking for a meeting first thing. She had an update on Triad and their leadership and Persephone was eager to find out what she’d learned. On the way, she opened her tablet to catch up on the news. The first headline that drew her attention was the largest and it was located under a banner that read breaking news.

An individual identifying themselves as a member of The Rebirth Movement, a sect of impious mortals, claim they have successfully dehorned a goddess.

Dread pooled in Persephone’s stomach but also hope. Hades had suspected this news would come out eventually. This was their chance to track the culprits who had hurt and mutilated Harmonia and possibly murdered Adonis.

Upon reading the article, she was a little surprised to find there wasn’t much information, and even the author sounded skeptical of the report. It seemed they had received a call from an individual who told them of the incident—but without any details. They’d stated the group had managed to “subdue a goddess” and “cut off her horns.”

When asked for proof of the incident, the caller stated, “the world will have proof when we wear the horns of the gods to the battlefield.”

Whether this report is factual remains to be seen—but one thing is clear, the Rebirth is a violent entity—the worst kind because they believe they are actually fighting for the great good.

“We are shield for those who no longer wish to be ruled by the gods. We will cut the threads that bind us to fate, free those under the spell of their Divinity. We are freedom.”

It was a promise and a declaration of war.

“My lady?” Antoni’s voice was a soft rumble. She looked up, meeting his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she answered. “I was just reading something…disturbing.”

Antoni’s brow dipped. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, Antoni, but thank you,” Persephone said. As she started to store her tablet, Antoni moved to exit the vehicle. “Don’t Antoni. It’s too cold.”

“Allow me to help you to the door. The sidewalk and steps are slick.’’

“Even more reason for you to stay,” she answered.

“If you insist,” he finally relented. “I will see you this evening.”

“Of course. Have a good day, Antoni.”

“And you, my lady.”

Persephone did not know what sort of errands or tasks Antoni had outside of taking her to work. Once, when the giant had come to get her, he had come from picking up dry cleaning, though, when asked if it was for Hades, he’d said no. Another time, he’d had a case of red wines which, he had explained, was an order for Milan. Whatever it was, though, he always seemed perfectly happy to execute.

She left the warm comfort of the backseat of the Lexus and entered the frigid daytime air. The sidewalk was slick, but a layer of salt and sand made it easier to stabilize. Once inside, she greeted Ivy, accepted her coffee with a grateful nod, and entered the elevator. On the way up, she held the cup to her cheeks and nose until they were warm and kept her jacket on even after she entered her office. Was she imagining things? It definitely felt colder in here. Persephone knew this weather could lead to energy and power failures and she had no doubt Demeter would continue to that point. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if that was her mother’s next method of killing—freezing people to death.

There was a knock at her door and Persephone looked up, meeting Helen’s gaze. She was dressed in a black, knitted top and a black and white plaid skirt. She wore thick stockings and knee-high boots to keep warm, and her blonde hair was twisted into an updo. A pair of pearl earrings completed the look. Despite the fact that Helen always looked chic, Persephone thought she looked a little more dressed up than usual.

“You look very beautiful,” Persephone said.

“Thank you,” Helen said, her cheeks coloring. “I…am meeting someone for lunch.”

“Oh?” Persephone raised a brow. “Anyone I know?”

“I don’t think so. At least, not yet.”

Persephone took that to mean Helen hoped to introduce her to this mystery person. Still, she didn’t press. Helen had arrived for their meeting, and as much as she enjoyed the company of both her and Leuce, she liked to keep things as professional as possible at work.

After a beat of silence, Persephone gestured to the couch in front of her desk.

“Have a seat,” she said. “I believe you had something to share.”

“Yes,” Helen said sitting. “I wanted to discuss my article with you. I’m taking it in a new direction.”

“Go on,” Persephone encouraged, curious. She took up her pen, ready to take notes.

Helen hesitated.

“I did what you suggested,” she began, and something about those words made Persephone’s stomach turn. “I reached out to members of Triad and managed to land an interview with one of their leaders—a high lord.”

“A high lord?”

“They…have a kind of hierarchy,” she explained. “It’s to protect those who cannot protect themselves.”

“You mean those with power are at the top,” Persephone said.

“Real power,” Helen said as if Persephone did not know what real power was.

“You mean like the gods?”

“Yes and no,” she said. “They have the power of the gods, but they use it to protect. They answer prayers, Persephone. They listen.”

“Helen,” Persephone said, dropping her pen. “You are misguided.”

“I’m not. I have seen it.”

“You’ve seen it,” Persephone stated flatly. “What have you seen? Give me an example.”

“I have been to their meetings and heard testimony,” she said. Persephone made a mental note to come back to what Helen had just disclosed—meetings? What meetings? The mortal continued. “This man had cancer. He prayed to Apollo, offered sacrifices, even showed up at one of his performances and begged for his help. No answer—not a word. He came to Triad and one of the high lords healed him.”

Persephone stiffened hearing this story. It sounded all-to-familiar.

“Have you ever stopped to consider why the gods may not have answered those prayers?”

“Yes! And the answer is always why? Why should we suffer illness and disease and death when the gods exist in perpetual health and immortality?”

Persephone did not have an answer for that because even she did not know, except that, after losing Lexa, she had to believe that every fiber woven into the tapestry of the world served a greater purpose. Perhaps it was that sometimes a friend must die for a goddess to rise.

She stared at Helen, wondering what had lured her to the side of Triad so quickly.

“Seriously, Persephone. I thought you would understand after what happened to Lexa.”

“Do not say her name,” Persephone said, her voice shaking.

“If given the chance, would you not have had her live forever?”

“What I want does not matter. You speak of things you know nothing of. It is one thing to proclaim the gods should be held accountable for their actions—that, certainly, is true. It is another thing to actively disturb the balance of the world.”

And Persephone had learned the consequences of those actions the hard way.

Helen rolled her eyes. “You have been brainwashed—too much time spent on Hades’ dick.”

“That is not appropriate,” Persephone snapped and stood. “If this is the intended direction of your article, I will not approve it for publication.”

Helen lifted her chin, defiance flashed in her eyes.

“You don’t have to,” she said, a smug tone in her voice. “I’ll take it to Demetri.”

“Do it,” she said. “But you will regret it.”

“Is that a threat?” Helen asked.

“That depends,” Persephone said. “Are you afraid?”

She noted the doubt that flashed in Helene’s eyes. Persephone picked up her phone and chose Ivy’s direct line.

“Lady Persephone?”

“Ivy. Please summon Zofie.”

As she hung up, Helen spoke.

“You’re afraid. Afraid you’ll lose your status when Hades falls.”

Persephone placed her hands flat on the table and leaned forward, ensuring that the glamour that kept the true fire of her eyes hidden melted away as she leveled her gaze with Helen’s.

“Now that felt like a threat,” Persephone said, her voice quiet. “Was it a threat?”

Helen’s eyes went wide and before the mortal could speak, there was a knock at the door. Neither of them moved, both held in place by the tension in the room. Persephone recognized it as her magic—it made the air feel heavy and electric.

Another knock and the door opened. Zofie stood in the threshold, her dark hair in her usual braid. She was dressed in a black tunic, pants, and boots. She looked unassuming, not at all the warrior she was raised to be.

“My lady, you needed my assistance?”

“Yes, Zofie. Please escort Helen from the premises. She is to speak to no one as she leaves the building.”

“I need to pack my office,” Helen argued.

Persephone didn’t look at her, keeping her gaze on her Aegis.

“Zofie, see that Helen only collects her personal belongings from her office.”

“As you wish, my lady,” she said, bowing her head. She turned to Helen. “Go.”

Helen took a step toward the door but turned back to Persephone.

“A new era is coming, Persephone. I thought you were smart enough to be at the forefront. I guess I was wrong.”

Without warning, Zofie pushed Helen out the door, causing her to stumble forward. The mortal caught herself before spinning to face Zofie.

“How dare you!” Helen snarled.

Zofie drew a dagger from a hidden sheath beneath her tunic. It glinted beneath the florescent lights in the waiting area.

“Lady Persephone didn’t say you had to leave the building walking. Go.”

When they were gone, Persephone collapsed into her chair, feeling exhausted. She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the conversation she’d just had with Helen. She definitely had not expected her to change her perspective on Triad after such a short investigation. Then again, she did not know much about Helen outside of her work ethic which had always appeared dedicated and enthusiastic.

And those qualities she hadn’t lost but applied elsewhere.

Perhaps there was something else at work that Persephone could not see, something in Helen’s personal life that made siding with Triad the better option.

Feeling frustrated, Persephone left her floor for Hades’ office. When she arrived, it was empty, and everything looked untouched. The desk was clear except for a vase of white narcissus and a picture frame. The narcissus were refreshed daily by Ivy, who, being a dryad, had a special talent for keeping flowers alive longer than usual.

Even in his absence, being in a space that smelled like him calmed her nerves, so she lingered, walking to the window to stare out at the wintery day. Below, she saw Helen waiting on the icy sidewalk, her arms were crossed tightly over her chest as she shivered noticeably. After a moment, a black limo arrived.

Persephone’s brows lowered, wondering who’d sent it for her. Helen usually took public transportation to and from work. Perhaps she was more tangled in Triad that she thought. The driver was no help. He left the comfort of his cabin dressed in a suit and no identifying markings. He opened her door and she slide inside before the vehicle crept down the road.

Suddenly, Hades manifested behind her, standing close. She expected him to place his hands around her waist, instead, he caged her with them, palms pressed flat to the window.

“Careful,” Persephone said. “Ivy will scold you for smudging the glass.”

“Do you think she will have an opinion if I fuck you against it?”

Persephone turned to face him and the teasing light in Hades eyes dimmed.

“What’s wrong?”

She told him everything. Including what she considered to be Helen’s threat—when Hades’ falls. Slowly, he peeled his hands from the window, and they settled at his sides. His brows lowering, his lips twisting into a grimace.

“Are you afraid for me?”

“Yes. Yes, you idiot. Look at what those people did to Harmonia!”

“Persephone—”

“Hades,” Persephone cut him off. “Do not diminish my fear of losing you. It’s just as valid.”

His features softened. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are powerful,” she said. “But…I cannot help thinking that Triad is trying to bring about another Titanomachy.”

She hated to say it—hated to unearth what had caused such unrest within Hades—but she needed to speak the words, say them aloud. She thought that once they were in the air between them, they would sound ridiculous, completely improbable.

But they didn’t.

Because she was certain the Primordials and the Titans had felt untouchable and they had still fallen.

Hades placed his hands on either side of Persephone’s face.

“I cannot promise we will not have war a thousand times over during our lifetime,” he said. “But I will promise that I will never leave you willingly.”

“Can you promise to never leave at all?”

He offered a small, sad smile and then kissed her. His hands twined into her hair and then glided to her back and hips, exploring. She wanted this more than she wanted to think about how he hadn’t answered her question, so she rubbed his cock through his pants, eliciting a growl from somewhere deep in his throat. In response, he gripped her hips, grinding into her, but Persephone pushed against his chest and met his gaze.

“Let me have this,” she said.

“What do you want?” he asked.

She took his hands and lead him behind his desk where she pushed him into his chair and knelt before him. Poised between his thighs, she released the button of his slacks and unzipped them, his jutting sex rising, thick and hard, from the fabric.

She held his gaze as she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, stroking him, increasing the pressure as she moved toward his head. If his gaze were fire, she would have burned happily beneath it. She smiled as he ground his teeth, and his fingers turned white as he held onto the arms of his chair. Then she bent, drawing her tongue along his crown. He tasted bitter and warm and smelled like spice.

A soft groan escaped his mouth, and then words.

“Yes,” he said. “This. I dream of this.”

She had questions—what had he dreamed, exactly? Her mouth? This act, performed like this? In his open office? But she asked none of them and continued, spurred by his breathing which pitched unevenly, ragged and labored.

“Lord Hades,” Ivy’s voice entered the fray and she felt Hades tense, his posture changing as he stiffened and sat up straighter. Her presence didn’t keep Persephone from continuing, she worked harder, lavishing every sensitive dip and arch of his cock with her tongue.

“Why are you sitting?”

She sounded perplexed and Persephone laughed despite Hades’ cock filling her mouth. His reaction was immediate. He twined one of his hands into her hair.

“I’m working,” he said.

“There’s nothing on your desk,” she said.

“It’s…coming,” he said, his fingers dug into her scalp.

“Right, well, when you have a moment—”

“Leave, Ivy. Now.”

Persephone heard nothing else from her. She assumed she was gone when Hades placed another hand on her face. For a moment, her eyes met his as he spoke.

“Take all of me,” he said and thrust into her mouth.

He went deep and her eyes watered, her throat full of him—but she wanted to be this for him.

“Yes,” he hissed. “Like that.”

He pumped into her and she choked but he stayed there, rigid in her mouth until he came, her throat thick with his come. She swallowed hard, feeling the burn of it in her nose. When he pulled out, she took in ragged breaths, her forehead resting against his knee. Hades’ hand smoothed her hair.

“Are you well?” he asked.

She looked up at him. “Yes. Tired.”

He brushed her lips with the tips of his fingers. “Tonight, I will make you come just as hard.”

“In your mouth or around your cock?”

He smiled at her question and replied, “Both.”

Hades restored his appearance and helped Persephone to her feet.

“I know you are having a hard day,” he said. “I hate to leave but I came to tell you I will be meeting with Zeus.”

“Why?”

She could think of two reasons.

“I think you know,” he said. “I hope to secure Zeus’s approval for our marriage.”

“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.

“A sex club,” he said. “Uh, not that I have been.”

Persephone raised a brow.

“You mean to say Helen has a meeting at a sex club?” Leuce asked.

“Maybe she’s kinky,” Hermes said with a shrug. “Who are we to judge others sexual preferences?”

Persephone frowned. “I think we should check it out.”

Hermes laughed. “You think Hades is going to let you go to a sex club?”

“I’ll make him come.”

“I’m sure you will, Sephy, but not there.”

Persephone gave him a scathing look. “If you aren’t going to be helpful, you can eat lunch alone.”

“I’m just saying Hades would totally kill the vibe. If we’re going to go, he can’t come.”

“Then you tell him,” she said. “I won’t go without his knowledge.”

“Uh, no. He’ll make me swear an oath that I’ll protect you with my life.”

“Won’t you?” she asked.

Hermes opened his mouth to speak and then paused, his gaze softening. “Of course, I’d protect you.”

Persephone offered a small smile.

“We can go,” Leuce suggested. “Sybil and I.”

“No,” she said. “Not alone and not without me.”

This felt personal, not only because it involved Helen—a woman she’d thought as a friend and employee, but because she feared her friends could become targets, too. If this meeting was about the future of Triad and their plans, she needed to be there.

She looked at Hermes. “Prepare to take that oath, Hermes, and protect me with your life.”

***

Hades reluctantly agreed to let Persephone go to Club Aphrodisia but had done as Hermes predicted and made the god swear an oath to protect her.

“What does that even mean?” Persephone had asked when he’d returned later to inform her that he’d gained Hades’ permission.

“Don’t worry about it, Sephy. I got this,” he’d said. “Wear something sexy!”

Persephone shook her head and tried not to laugh as the god departed in a hurry.

After work, she returned to the Underworld. Before getting ready for the night’s investigation, she teleported to Elysium. It had been a while since she’d visited Lexa, and she found that what she wanted most after what happened with Helen, was her best friend.

She took her time wandering through the golden fields, speckled with gloriously lush trees with wild and deep roots. Now and then poppies shot from the ground, mingling with the grass. Once, before Thanatos had allowed Persephone to approach Lexa, she had asked the God of Death about the sporadic poppies.

“They are eternal resting places,” he had replied.

“You mean…”

“When a soul no longer wishes to exist in the Upperworld or the Underworld, they are released into the earth.”

He went on to explain that the energy from their souls often acted like magic. “From it, poppies and pomegranates spring.”

She’d had more questions—when does a soul decide it no longer wants to exist? Of course, she was thinking of Lexa when she had asked, but Thanatos’s reply was not what she expected.

“Sometimes they do not get to choose. Sometimes they come to us so broken, to continue would be torture.”

It was then Persephone had understood she had been lucky with Lexa. At least she had only had to drink from the Lethe. Apparently, there were worse fates.

As Persephone crested one of many hills, she paused looking for the familiar dark curls of Adonis but did not find him. It was possible she wouldn’t even recognize him here. Even Lexa, while familiar, looked different, and it had been months since she’d last laid eyes upon the favorited mortal. Even if she saw him, it wasn’t like she could approach. Elysium was for healing. Souls here did not receive visitors; they didn’t even socialize amongst themselves.

Lexa was the exception, and Persephone had a suspicion Hades had something to do with that, though she’d never asked.

She stood a while longer, gaze lingering upon the fields, before continuing on to find Lexa.

She took her time, enjoying the peace that came with being in this part of the Underworld. Here it was easy to forget about the threat of her mother, Triad, and Helen’s sudden change in behavior. It was like environment forced those thoughts away, making them harder to reach for and she always had the sense that if she stayed here long enough, she’d forget to leave.

There was another hill, and as she descended into a low valley with more trees where Lexa tended to stay most often, her gaze snagged on a pair of souls sitting beneath one of the trees. They were shoulder to shoulder, heads inclined, and she almost looked away, feeling as though she was intruding upon an intimate moment. Except that she soon realized that she was staring at Thanatos and Lexa. Beside one another, they were opposites, Thanatos with his white hair, a flame against Lexa’s midnight locks. The only thing they shared were brilliant blue eyes and apparently breath and space, Persephone thought mildly.

She wondered what she should do—turn around and come back later? Duck and watch from afar? Approach and force them apart? She didn’t get the chance to decide, however, because Thanatos’s eyes locked upon her, and he was quick to jump to his feet, putting distance between him and Lexa who frowned when she saw Persephone.

Feeling awkward and uncertain, she ambled down the hill toward them. She hesitated when she saw Thanatos approaching while Lexa remained beneath the tree, head tilted back, her eyes closed.

‘You’re not here at your usual time,’ Thanatos observed.

“No,” she agreed, but did not apologize. Elysium might be watched over by him, but Hades was king. “I have somewhere to go tonight. I thought I’d come to see Lexa early.”

“She is tired,” he said.

“She was just talking to you,” Persephone pointed out, and narrowed her gaze.

‘I understand you miss her,’ Thanatos said. ‘But your visits will not produce the results you want.’

She reared back, as if he had slapped her. Thanatos’s features changed, his eyes widened slightly, and he took a step toward her, as if realizing the pain his words had caused.

“Persephone—”

‘Don’t,’ she said taking a step back.

She didn’t need to be reminded that Lexa would never be the same. She mourned that fact every day, wrestled with the guilt that this was her fault.

‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

“But you did,” she said and vanished.

Since she could not visit Lexa in the Underworld, Persephone teleported to Ionia Cemetery, to her grave. It was still new—a barren mound with a headstone that read beloved daughter, taken too soon. Those words gripped her heart for two reasons—because it did feel as though Lexa had been taken too soon, but also because Persephone knew they were wrong. In the end, dying was Lexa’s choice.

I accomplished what I needed to, she’d said, right before she walked off with Thanatos to drink from the Lethe and things would never be the same again.

It was the first time Persephone had come here since Lexa’s funeral. She took a quivering breath as she knelt beside the grave. It was dusted with snow, and as her palm touched the cold earth, a carpet of white anemone sprouted from the dirt. This magic was easy to release because the emotion behind it was so raw, so painful, it practically poured out of her skin.

She spent some time brushing snow from the flowers and from the headstone.

“You don’t know how much I miss you.”

She spoke to the grave, to the headstone, to the body buried six feet below. They were words she could not say to the soul in the Underworld because they were words she would not understand. It was why she was here—to talk to her best friend.

She sat on the ground, the cold seeping through her clothes and into her skin. She sighed, resting her head against the stone at her back and looking up at the sky—flurries of snow melted on her skin.

“I’m getting married, Lex,” she said. “I said yes.”

She laughed a little. She could practically hear Lexa screaming as she jumped in the air and threw her arms around her neck, and as happy as that thought made her, it also crushed her.

“I have never been so happy,” she said. “Or so sad.”

She was quiet for a long time, letting silent tears stream down her face.

“Sephy?”

She looked up to find Hermes standing a few feet away looking like gold fire amid the snow.

“Hermes, what are you doing here?”

“I think you can guess,” he said, running his fingers through his blonde hair as he took a seat beside her. He was dressed casually, in a long-sleeved shirt and dark jeans.

“No jumper this time?”

“That is only for very special occasions.”

They smiled at one another and Persephone wiped at her eyes, lashes still damp from crying.

“Did you know that I lost a son?” he said after a long moment.

Persephone gazed at him, only viewing the profile of his beautiful face—but she could tell by the deep gold of his eyes and the set of his jaw, this topic of conversation was difficult for him.

“No,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“You know of him,” Hermes said. “His name was Pan, the God of the Wild—of Shepherds and Flocks. He died many years ago and I still grieve him…some days it’s like it happened yesterday.”

She knew what questions others would ask—how did he die? But that was not a question she wanted to ask because it was one she did not like to answer, so instead, she said, “Tell me about him.”

A smile curved his lips.

“You would have liked him,” he said, nudging her with his shoulder. “He is like me—handsome and hilarious. He loved music. Did you know he invented the pipe? He challenged Apollo to a competition once,” Hermes paused to laugh. “He lost, of course. He was just…fun.”

He continued, telling stories of Pan—his great and not so great loves, his adventures, and finally his death.

“His death was sudden—one moment he existence and then he didn’t, and I heard of his passing upon the wind—through shouts from mortals and mourners. I did not believe it, so I went to Hades who told me the truth. The Fates had cut his thread.”

“I am so sorry, Hermes.”

He smiled, though sad. “Death is,” he said. “Even for gods.”

At those words, the cold shivered through her, too deep to ignore.

“We should go,” he said, rising to his feet, he held out his hand. “We are due at Club Aphrodisia and I know you aren’t wearing that.”

She managed to laugh as he helped her to her feet and before they vanished to go their separate ways, Hermes met her gaze.

“No one ever said you had to pretend everything was okay,” Hermes said. “Grief means we loved fiercely…and if that is all anyone ever has to say about either one of us in the end, I think we lived our best life.”