At first, she was anxious about his potential arrival, but as time passed, she became more and more frustrated with the God of the Dead.
What would it take to get his attention?
She got up and walked to the break room to make coffee. While there, she looked out the window. A crowd was still gathered outside the Acropolis.
“Your article is causing quite a stir.” Demetri joined her. He turned on the television in the corner. The news was streaming, and the headline read:
Hades’ Lover Attacks Beloved God.
She squeezed her coffee cup so hard, the lid came off sloshing hot liquid all over her hands. Demetri took it from her and handed her some napkins.
“You think they could at least use my name?”
“You might not want them to,” he said. “It’s probably best they remember who you belong to.”
Persephone glared at her boss. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
“Fair,” he said. “Poor word choice. I just meant that…you’ll want people to remember that you’re with Hades because they aren’t happy that you went after Apollo.”
That was obvious—and no wonder. The news was particularly critical of her article.
“She mentions eight mortal women who apparently experienced abuse from Lord Apollo, but where are they?”
“She’s only doing this because of her association with Hades. No other mortal would dare write this...trash about a god.”
“Guess she didn’t gain enough fame by sleeping with Hades. She had to go after Apollo, too. Is this the kind of fame you wanted, Persephone Rosi?”
She felt sick and frustrated and a little hopeless.
“This isn’t fair. They aren’t even trying to fact check,” she said.
He shrugged. “They’re probably too afraid.”
“That’s no reason to avoid it.”
Demetri sighed. “No, but it’s the way of our world. The vengeance of the gods is a real and feared thing.”
The news continued bashing Persephone for her critique of Apollo. For the fact that she used two stories from antiquity to illustrate his horrid behavior, claiming that all gods in antiquity were different from who they were now—that change was possible, and that Apollo should be forgiven.
Persephone snatched the remote from Demetri and turned off the television.
“They weren’t eager to come to Hades defense when I wrote about him,” she said.
“That’s because Hades is supposed to be feared. He’s supposed to be bad. Apollo he’s…the God of Music. The God of Light. He’s…revelry and beauty. He’s not supposed to be an asshole.”
“Well, he is!”
“You don’t have to convince me, Persephone. You have to convince the world.”
She shouldn’t have to convince anyone, but instead of a world recognizing a psychopathic god, they saw one that had just fallen deeply in love. They equated his relentless pursuit of men and women as romantic, and those who rejected him as unworthy.
It was fucked up.
“Look, if you want my advice—”
“I don’t,” she snapped.
“Persephone,” Demetri seemed desperate. “Look, I know…things haven’t been good between us this week, but I don’t want to watch you get bashed on national television for the next year.”
“Is that because of all the money you’ll lose when people stop buying the paper to read my work?”
He glared at her.
“It’s not about money,” he said. “You want respect in this industry and the reality is that you just lost a huge chunk of it. You want to climb that ladder? You can do one of two things—apologize….” She glared at him so hard, she thought she might melt him with her eyes. “Or write another article about Apollo. Find someone he’s hurt recently. Tell their story.”
Persephone frowned. “I…can’t.”
Demetri didn’t respond immediately. “Maybe you can’t,” he said. “And if not, you know what you have to do.”
“Your advice is shit,” she told him.
Her boss seemed genuinely hurt by her response, nearly flinching when the words left her mouth, but she didn’t really care. He had gone from advocating and defending her to opposing and discouraging her.
She thought he was a fighter, but when the going got tough, he rolled over.
There was no way she was going to apologize to Apollo when he’d hurt one of her closest friends. There was also no way she would ask Sybil for an interview. That would mean exposing her to the scrutiny Persephone was now experiencing.
She couldn’t do that to the oracle. She was rebuilding her life.
Gods this was such a mess.
At lunch, Persephone broke one of her rules and chanced teleportation to the rooftop of the Acropolis for some much-needed air.
She manifested herself on the edge of the roof, her heartbeat pounded in her chest as she stumbled away. Once she recovered from almost falling off the side of the high-rise, she stared down at the vast city of New Athens. It was beautiful and terrifying up here. She could see the darkness of Hades’ tower, a shadow that split the city in half. The glimmering glass of Aphrodite’s La Rose, the beautiful and unique facade of Hera’s many hotels, the Olympian, the Pegasus, the Emerald Peacock. There were other monuments, too—marble statues of gods all over the city, and beautiful temples arranged on hilltops and mountainside cliffs.
She’d been so enchanted with the city when she’d first moved here. She’d fallen in love with everything it promised—endless possibilities, adventure, and freedom. It’s what kept her going when things got difficult, when she felt confused and lost and unwelcomed—all the things she felt now.
She searched for those promises amid the sprawling landscape, beyond the Acropolis and the angry crowd far below.
“Persephone?” a voice asked.
She whirled to find Pirithous standing behind her. “How did you get up here?”
She opened her mouth to answer but realized she didn’t even know how this roof was accessed from the inside.
“Carefully,” she managed to answer with a small smile, which Pirithous matched.
“What are you doing up here?” she asked.
“Sometimes I like to eat lunch up here.”
It was then she noticed he was holding a lunch box. “Wanna share?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’m not all that hungry, but I’ll sit with you.”
His smile widened. “I’d like that. Come on. I know of a better place to sit away from the wind.”
Pirithous led her to another part of the roof blocked by a patrician where there was a set of chairs. The space overlooked the coast of New Athens, a line of pure white sand that met a foamy ocean of the deepest emerald.
It was a breathtaking view.
“Go ahead and sit,” he said.
Pirithous opened his lunch and took out a sandwich and a bag of chips.
“You sure you don’t want any?”
“Yes, thank you.”
He took a bite, and they looked out over the city. After a moment of silence, Pirithous prompted, “So, what are you doing up here?”
She sighed and chose not to look at him when she said, “I’m guessing you haven’t seen the news.”