“Of course...but....why tell me?”
“Because I need you to be honest with me. Who freed you from the poplar tree?”
“I swear I don’t know,” Leuce said, her pale brows were drawn together over her pretty ice-blue eyes. “I just remember waking up alone.”
She shivered, rubbing her arms, as if the memory scared her. Persephone studied the nymph for a moment, and then sighed.
“I believe you,” Still, that didn’t mean Demeter wasn’t responsible. “Will you tell me if my mother contacts you?”
Leuce nodded and then swallowed. When she spoke, her voice trembled. “Persephone...what if she was the one to free me? Will she come for me? What if she turns me back into a tree?”
Persephone hadn’t thought of that, but her answer was immediate. “If she does, I’ll find you.”
“She could burn me to a crisp,” Leuce said, and then offered a humorless laugh. “It’s strange, the things you fear when you’re a tree.”
Persephone frowned. The sad part was, she knew her mother was capable of that kind of malice. The goddess placed a hand on the nymph’s arm. “I’ll do my best to protect you, Leuce. I promise.”
The woman smiled. “You’re really not like the rest of them, Persephone.”
***
Upon returning to work, Persephone was more prepared for the crowd outside the Acropolis than she had ever been. She’d decided rather than entering the building with her head down, she would face them head on, maybe even answer a few of the questions. It wasn’t exactly her idea of freedom, but it was a way to take control over the situation and it was better than feeling trapped.
“Thank you, Antoni,” Persephone said when he opened her door. “See you after work?”
“Yes, my lady.”
She smiled at him and started down the aisle.
“Good morning,” she chimed as she passed the gathering.
“Persephone! Persephone! Can I get an autograph?”
She stopped, meeting the gaze of a mortal man. He held out a marker and a booklet. She took it and signed her name, his eyes lighting up.
“Th-thank you,” he stuttered out.
“Persephone, how long have you and Hades been together?” another person asked.
“Not long,” she replied.
“What made you fall in love with him?” someone yelled.
“Well, he is charming,” she said with a small laugh.
The walk continued like that—answering questions, signing articles and pictures, and taking photos with fans. She was almost to the doors when something shattered on the ground behind her. She turned to see a bottle in pieces at her feet. Security rushed the crowd, while another officer took her by the arm and ushered her inside.
“Are you alright, Miss Rosi?” The officer, an older man with a buzz cut and mustache, asked.
Persephone blinked up at him. She hadn’t had time to process what had just happened. Someone tried to hurt her, she realized. She took a deep breath and let it out slow, then nodded.
“Yes.”
The officer didn’t look so certain, frowning down at her.
Persephone’s eyes fell to his gold nameplate and she smiled. “Thank you, Officer Woods.”
The guard smirked; his face reddened. “It...it was nothing.”
She broke free of the officer and headed for the elevators in a daze. Her thoughts turned to Hades’ words: It is only a matter of time before someone with a vendetta against me tries to harm you. How would the god react once he found out about this incident?
When she made it to her floor, Helen was waiting, a concerned look on her face.
“Oh, my gods, Persephone! Are you okay? I heard what happened.”
“How?” Persephone asked. She’d literally just left the first floor.
“It’s on the news,” she said. “There was a crew filming live as you arrived. They caught everything on camera.”
Persephone groaned. So much for keeping this from Hades.
“Did they show the person who threw the bottle?”
“Yes, his face is plastered all over the news.”
Oh no.
Persephone hurried to her desk. She needed to get ahold of Hades before he acted. She knew the God of the Dead would seek his own revenge against the mortal who tried to hurt her, and as much as she wanted him to face some sort of punishment for his rash actions, torture in Tartarus seemed a bit extreme.
The only person she could think to call was Ilias. The Satyr had taken over managing Hades’ schedule in Minthe’s…absence.
The phone rang once before he answered.
“Ilias, where is Hades?”
“Indisposed, my lady,” he answered, pausing a moment before asking. “Are you well?”
“Ilias, I’m fine. Tell Hades not to hurt the mortal—”
She was interrupted when another call came through on her phone. She looked at the screen and saw Lexa was calling. She’d probably seen the news and wanted to make sure she was okay.
She sighed. “Ilias, let me call you back. Tell Hades not to hurt that mortal!”
Persephone hung up on the Satyr and answered Lexa’s call.
“Yes, Lex. I’m fine—”
Except, it wasn’t Lexa on the other end.
“Persephone, it’s Jason.”
The hysteria in his voice made her heart race.
“Jaison, why—”
“You need to come to the hospital now.”
“Okay. Okay. What happened?”
“It’s Lexa. They aren’t sure she’ll make it.”
Persephone felt like she’d just had the air sucked from her lungs. Her heart had never felt like this before—irregular and sick, poisoned by a terror so acute she thought it might have stopped.
Lexa’s in the hospital. They aren’t sure she’ll make it.
Suddenly she wondered if this was the start of Apollo’s revenge.
PART II
“The descent into Hell is easy.”
― Virgil, The Aeneid
CHAPTER XII - THE DESCENT INTO HELL
Persephone stayed calm and collected despite the anxiety eating away at the bottom of her stomach. Jaison’s voice echoed in her head, the words he’d spoken felt distant and untrue.
Lexa’s been in an accident. They aren’t sure she will make it.
He had to be mistaken. There was no way their Lexa—her Lexa—was fighting for her life.
“Persephone,” Jaison’s voice shook as he said her name, rooting her in the reality of what he’d just told her. She shook her head and said into the receiver,
“That can’t be true. I just saw her this morning.”
His voice sounded strangled, as if someone were pushing on this throat, stealing his air.
“It happened in front of the Alexandria Tower. She was on her way to work. They said she was crossing the street and someone hit her.”
She felt unsteady. Her body shook uncontrollably.
“I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
She was out of her chair before she hung up the phone, racing from the Acropolis.
Asclepius’ Community Hospital was a modern building made of mirrored glass, blending with the azure sky and dense, white clouds. Inside, the hospital looked more like a hotel than a medical facility. It was bright, clean, and beautiful, but nothing could hide the smell. It was what Persephone always thought of as the smell of sickness—it was the tang of chemicals, the metallic scent of stale water, and the bitter odor of latex. It filled her head and made her dizzy.