“Stop!” Persephone begged. Sybil’s screams clawed at her heart. “Stop, please! Please!”
When he let it go, Sybil sobbed.
After that, none of them spoke.
Persephone sat on the edge of the hotel bed. She stared down at her naked finger, missing the comfort of the weight of her ring and fearful for Hades. She wondered if he had escaped her bindings. She closed her eyes against the memory of his expression—the shock, the desperation. He had not wanted her to walk away, and yet she’d continued, taking step after step until the door was closed. She’d told herself it wouldn’t be long—we won’t be parted for long. He would free himself from the bindings and he would come.
But the minutes turned into hours, and still they sat with no sign of Hades. Persephone fought sleep, unwilling to rest while her friends suffered beneath the gaze of her enemies. Each time she nodded off, she felt like she was falling and woke with a start. When she couldn’t stand sitting anymore, she stood. When she couldn’t stand anymore, she paced.
She wasn’t sure how many times she crossed the floor, or how many hours they’d been locked in this hotel room, but the door finally opened, revealing Theseus and another large man who could have been Theo’s twin. He passed Persephone and went straight for Sybil.
“What are you doing?”
“You are about to find out why I needed you,” Theseus said.
Persephone grit her teeth, glaring at the demi-god. She hated him so much.
Then something shifted in the air; a change she couldn’t quite place, but she knew it came from Theseus, who stiffened suddenly and then twisted as the door burst open. Everything happened so fast, all Persephone could do was stare in horror as the demi-god threw out his hand. His magic crackled through the air, a current like lightning meeting water, and froze Zofie, who had kicked in the door with her feet, brandishing her blade.
Persephone could tell by the expression on her face—eyes wide, mouth open—that she had not expected to face such power when she’d come to her rescue. Then, Theseus manifested a blade, held it like a spear, and threw it at Zofie, striking her in the chest.
She fell to the ground in the doorway of the hotel room.
Persephone’s screams were cut off by a hand that went around her mouth. She fought against Theo, tears streaming down her face.
“Shut up!” Theseus seethed, reaching for her arm. “If you don’t want your other friends to join her, you’ll shut up!”
Persephone shook.
“Clean this up,” Theseus ordered, staring down at Zofie with disgust.
Persephone wanted to hold her, to brush her hair from her face, tell her what an accomplished warrior she was—but Theseus kept his grip on her arm.
“Let’s go.”
He pulled her along and they filed out of the room, past Zofie, down the stairwell, into a parking garage where a limo waited. Theseus shoved Persephone inside where she came face to face with her mother. Seeing her was like a blast of cold air, and she recoiled.
She knew her mother would think it a weakness, that she drew back out of fear, but it wasn’t that—it was disgust. This goddess, the harvester, the nurture, had the blood of thousands on her hands.
“Sit,” Theseus commanded, pushing her into the space opposite her mother.
The demi-god took a seat beside Demeter while Sybil and Harmonia were dragged into the limo and practically tossed into the cab opposite one another. Persephone knew why they kept them apart—they were afraid Harmonia would teleport with Sybil. Though, she didn’t think the Goddess of Harmony had enough energy to use her magic.
When the doors were shut, they sped off and Theseus spoke.
“I am taking you to Lerna Lake,” he said.
“That is an entrance to the Underworld,” Persephone said. She had never seen it in person, but knew it was an ancient way into Hades’ realm. Knowing the god as she did, she could not imagine what kind of traps he’d set to prevent entry, but she could imagine they were deadly.
“Yes,” he said.
“Why not go through Nevernight?” she asked.
“Because there are too many people there who will try protect you,” he said. “After all, you are their queen.”
Demeter scowled. “Do not speak such things. It makes me sick.”
Persephone glared. “Why do you wish to enter the Underworld? Are you hoping to retrieve a soul?”
“I am not so predictable,” he said. “You will lead me to Hades’ arsenal, and you will ensure my safe passage.”
“You want weapons?”
“I want a weapon,” Theseus said. “The Helm of Darkness.”
She swallowed thickly.
“You wish to wear Hades’ helm,” she said. “And what? Steal the other weapons?”
“I will not have to steal them. They will be given to me,” he said.
She should have guessed. Poseidon was his father, keeper of the trident, and Hera would ensure he had Zeus’s lightning bolt. They were weapons of war that aided the Olympians in defeating the Titans—it made sense that Theseus would think he could use them to overthrow the Olympians.
“Those weapons will not help you win a war against the Olympians. The gods are far stronger now.”
“I never rely on one method to defeat my enemy,” Theseus said.
She was not surprised that he did not elaborate. Theseus was not one to wax poetic about his plans.
Once he’d given her the mission, no one spoke again. Persephone feared saying something that might cause Theseus to pull over and cut up Sybil or Harmonia.
She looked at them, staring hard to make sure they were both breathing. Harmonia rested her head again the window while Sybil sagged against the leather.
The car came to a stop and the doors on both sides of the vehicle opened. Persephone was dragged out of the car by Theo. They’d stopped close to the shore of Lerna Lake, and she was guided with a heavy hand on her shoulder, down a rickety pier where a rowboat waited. A lantern hung at its prow and ignited a small part of the black lake.
“In,” Theo commanded, again giving Persephone a little push.
She glared at the man but stepped into the boat. She was followed by Theseus who helped Demeter. Then came Sybil and Harmonia. Sybil shook as she stepped down, but she managed to do so without trouble. Then she turned to reach for Harmonia, who was pale and still bleeding from whatever wound had been inflicted at her side.
“Do not touch her,” Theseus commanded. “Demeter.”
The Goddess of Harvest reached for Harmonia’s arm and yanked her down into the boat. Persephone leaned forward and managed to catch the goddess before she smacked the side of the boat.
“I said don’t touch her,” Theseus said and swung. Persephone ducked as the ore flew over her head. When he tried to hit her again, she reached out and grabbed it, stopping his attack, her eyes gleamed.
“If you want that helm, I suggest you start rowing,” she said. “You don’t have long before Hades breaks my binds.”
At her words, Theseus seemed to become amused and jerked the ore from her grasp.
“As you wish, Queen of the Underworld.”
Theseus pushed off the pier. The water was dark and thick, as if it weren’t water at all but oil. Persephone watched the surface, feeling a presence below, something monstrous lived within its depths. It wasn’t until they were almost across the lake—the cave entrance looming—that whatever lived in the water made itself known by rocking the boat hard, causing water to splash them.