“I’m going to bed,” Persephone said after a while. “See you guys tomorrow.”
She noticed him immediately upon entering her room and closed the door. She did not pause in surprise or hesitate to be alone with him.
“How long have you been here?” she asked.
“Not long,” he said.
There was a pause as she threw her purse on the bed. “You know what happened?”
“I overheard, yes.”
She swallowed and asked in a quiet voice, “Are you angry?”
“Yes, but not with you.”
He took two steps forward, which brought him close enough to touch her. He placed his hands on her arms, swept them up to her shoulders, and then touched her face. Her skin was warm, and she smelled like vanilla and lavender—pleasant and sweet.
He wanted to pull her close and bury his face in her hair. He wanted to kiss her and make love to her. He wanted to promise her things that were beyond this world.
“I couldn’t sense you,” he said, staring hard at her. He wanted to know how she did it, how she cut him off from her magic. “I couldn’t find you.”
“I’m here, Hades. I’m fine.” Her tone was hushed, and she stared up at him, placing her hands on his forearms.
Fine.
She was fine.
That word rattled through his head wrong, and he released her, reaching to turn on the light. When he looked back at her, she was squinting.
“You will never know how difficult this is for me,” he said. He wasn’t even sure what he was talking about—if it was Lexa or Apollo or just the distance he felt between them, a dark chasm that lay at their feet, though Persephone obviously thought she knew, because she had a reply.
“I imagine as difficult as it’s been for me to deal with Minthe and Leuce, except that Apollo has never been my lover.”
Hades glared. He did not like Apollo’s name and the word lover spoken so close together, and if he could, he would take them from her mouth and spit them on the ground.
“You have not been to the Underworld.” He tried not to make it sound like an accusation, but he could not help it. When she was angry, she seemed to avoid it altogether. She crossed her arms, as if she wanted to deflect his words.
“I’ve been busy.”
“The souls miss you, Persephone.” I miss you. “Do not punish them because you are angry with me.”
She glared at him. “Don’t lecture me, Hades. You have no idea what I’ve been dealing with.”
“Of course not,” he said, surly. “That would mean you’d have to talk to me.”
“You mean like you talk to me?” she countered. “I’m not the only one with communication problems, Hades.”
He pressed his lips together and took a step away from her.
“I didn’t come here to argue with you or lecture you. I came to see if you were okay.”
“Why come at all? Antoni would have told you.”
She’d have probably preferred that. He looked away from her, scowling. “I had to,” he said and took a breath. “I had to see you myself.”
She stepped toward him. “Hades, I—”
“I should go,” he said. “I’m late for a meeting.”
And while it was true, he knew he was really running from her.
* * *
Hades teleported to the Grove, which, while he owned it, was operated by Ilias. He preferred anonymity and applied the same practice to his other restaurants scattered about—a couple of pubs and cafés, even a few street carts. If there was one thing Hades had learned in the time he had been alive, it was that people tended to talk more when drink and food were close at hand. It was a great way to gather intel on the various happenings across New Greece.
He manifested beside Ilias, who stood in the shadows on the rooftop restaurant, observing operations. Staff buzzed about carrying trays of drinks and food, and there was a low murmur that ebbed and flowed as people conversed and ate and moved dishes about. It was the only indication of how busy it truly was, since parties were hidden in pockets of lush flora.
“Right on time,” Ilias commented, glancing at Hades once and then nodding as a host led two familiar individuals to a table out of sight.
One was Theseus.
The other was Ariadne.
“Shocking,” Hades said, though his voice was monotone, and he was not so much surprised as he was disappointed. Now he wondered what the detective’s objective had been when she had begged for his help.
“They dated very briefly,” the satyr explained. “But it seems Theseus was more interested in Ariadne’s sister, Phaedra.”
This was the first time Hades had heard that Ariadne had a sister, and if that were the case, why were they at the Grove?
“Thank you, Ilias,” Hades said before he called up his glamour to move unseen between gardens, lush alcoves, and canopied groves. He found the pair at a round table nestled in a recess of vines.
“I am in need of a favor,” Theseus was saying.
“I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement.”
He seemed to ignore her comment and continued. “I need you to help remove any suspicion your fellow detectives may have that I am involved with the Impious.”
“Why?” Ariadne asked, her voice on edge.
“Rumor has it they are about to become more…vocal.”
She did not ask what that meant, but Hades thought he had an idea, and he didn’t like it. The Impious were mortals who did not worship the gods. It was more of a belief system than it was an institution, though some chose to organize under the banner of Triad. It was an organization that used to terrorize the public to prove that the gods were passive, but with Theseus at the helm, they pretended to put aside their aggressive tactics in favor of appearing peaceful, though if Hades had to guess by Theseus’s ask, he’d found a new avenue to execute his violence, and he didn’t want the connection known.
“How can I possibly be responsible for what people think, Theseus?”
“You can. I do it all the time.”
“Just like you’ve done with my sister?”
The demigod did not flinch at her retort, though Hades was certain she meant it as an insult.
“Since you brought her up, I’ll remind you what’s at stake.”
“You already owe me one visit with her, Theseus,” she said, leaning across the table as she spoke through her teeth. “I helped you find the Graeae.”