“Zofie,” Sybil said. “Has anyone told you that people do not fight with swords anymore?”
The Amazon looked affronted. “My sisters and I always fight with a blade!”
Persephone tried not to laugh. “Okay, what if no swords are involved. Just hand to hand combat?”
“Go for the nose,” she said, a malicious glint in her eyes.
Their conversation continued like that even after their food arrived. Persephone sat in relative silence, lost in her own thoughts, trying to piece things together.
One issue was that she didn’t have enough information on Adonis’s death, but perhaps they’d sought to draw Aphrodite out with his murder. One issue was that she didn’t have enough information on Adonis’s death, but perhaps they’d sought to draw Aphrodite out with his murder. But why try to enrage an Olympian other than to create unrest? Wasn’t Demeter’s snowstorm doing that enough? Still, if Harmonia’s assumption was correct, who would Demeter go after next? There were a number of gods and goddesses who supported her—Hecate, Apollo, though arguably reluctant, then there was…
“Hermes,” Sybil said. “What are you doing here?”
Persephone blinked and met the god’s gold gaze. He looked like he’d just come from tennis practice, dressed in white pants and a light blue polo. He slid into the booth beside Persephone, scooting her along the vinyl with little effort.
“Eating lunch with my besties,” he answered. “What does it look like?”
“It looks like you’re crashing our lunch,” Persephone said.
“Well, it’s not like you were chatting it up,” he said, reaching for Persephone’s fork and digging into her untouched food, popping a bite into his mouth. As he chewed, he spoke, looking at Persephone.
“I bet I can guess what you were thinking,” he said. “Reliving a night of mind-blowing sex with Hades.”
“Gross,” Zofie said.
Sybil giggled.
But Persephone wished that was the case. She’d take that over thinking of her mother—or her actual night with Hades which had only been full of blood and tears.
She managed to roll her eyes and lie. “Actually, I’m thinking about the wedding.”
Hermes brightened. “Tell me you’ve picked a date!”
“Well, no,” she said, pursing her lips. “I was actually thinking about…eloping.”
It was an idea that had crossed her mind multiple times since Hades had proposed and given the drama that surrounded their engagement, it was looking like the best option. Did anyone really need to know they were married, anyway?
“Elope?” Hermes repeated, as if he did not know what the word meant. “Why would you elope?”
“I mean, there’s a lot of unrest between mortals and gods right now and a public wedding would just enrage my mother more...”
She was now thinking that if her mother was involved in the attack on Harmonia, things may just escalate with a wedding.
“And a private one wouldn’t?” Hermes challenge, brow raised.
“I do not understand this wedding,” Zofie said. “Why do you need to marry? You love Hades, do you not? Is that not enough?”
Loving Hades was enough—but his proposal was the promise of something more. A commitment to a life they would share and cultivate together. She wanted that.
“If I was marrying Hades,” Hermes said, scooping up another bite of Persephone’s food. “I’d want a televised wedding so everyone knew that piece of ass was mine.”
“Sounds like you thought a lot about marrying Hades,” Sybil observed.
“Apparently there’s no need to plan anything until Zeus approves our marriage, anyway,” Persephone said, glaring at Hermes.
“Why are you looking at me like I should have told you?” Hermes asked, defensively. “Everyone knows that.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, I grew up in a glass house with my narcissistic mother,” Persephone retorted.
“How could I forget?” Hermes asked. “When there’s a raging ice storm outside to remind me?”
Sybil elbowed the god.
“Ouch!” He glared at her. “Watch it, oracle.”
Persephone’s gaze broke from Hermes, falling to her hands in her lap.
“This isn’t your fault, Persephone,” Sybil said.
“It feels like it.”
“You want to marry the love of your life,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Except that…everyone seems to disapprove. If it isn’t my mother, it’s the world, or Zeus,” she paused. “Maybe we should have waited on the engagement. It’s not like we aren’t going to be together forever.”
“Then you allow others to determine how you live,” Sybil said. “And there is nothing fair about that.”
It wasn’t fair, but Persephone had learned a good deal about fairness in the time since meeting Hades. In fact, the lesson had come from Sybil herself.
Right, wrong, fair, unfair—it’s not really the world we live in, Persephone. The gods punish.
She was starting to understand why the Impious grew in ranks, why some had become organized and formed Triad, why they wished for the gods to have less influence over their lives.
“That isn’t good,” Sybil said, nodding at a television in the corner where the news streamed.
Impious Gather to Protest Winter Weather
Persephone wanted to sink into herself.
She caught part of what the anchor was saying,
“This uncharacteristic weather has many believing a god or goddess may be on a quest for vengeance. Both the Impious and the Faithful are calling for an end in two very different ways.”
Persephone looked away, and yet she could not escape the broadcast, the words still reaching and ringing in her ears.
“Why is it mortals suffer every time a god has a mood swing? Why should we worship such gods?”
“I understand the Impious less and less,” said Hermes.
Persephone looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“When they began, they were angry with us for being distant and careless, as if they wanted our presence. Now they seem to think they can do without us.”
“Can they?” Persephone asked because she truly did not know.
“I suppose that depends. Would Helios still provide the sun? Or Selene the moon? Despite how mortals perceive the world, we are the reason for its existence—we can make and unmake it.”
“Yes, but…if they did provide the sun and moon and all the power to maintain the world. If the gods…took a step back from mortal society…what would happen?”
Hermes blinked. “I…do not know.”
It was clear he’d never considered that before.
The truth was, the gods would never be able to completely release their hold on the world because it would end, but could they strike a balance? And what did that look like exactly?
“Excuse me—” A man approached their table, cellphone in hand. He was middle-aged and wore grey slacks and a white shirt.
Hermes whipped his head around.
“No,” he said, and the mortal’s mouth snapped close. “Leave.”