“I can’t go anywhere! How are you a god, Hermes?”
The god shrugged, a smirk on his face. “It isn’t so bad. We are revered and worshipped.”
“And hated,” Persephone finished.
“Speak for yourself,” Hermes replied.
Persephone glared at him, and then sighed, running her fingers through her hair. She had to admit, she was a little shaken by what had happened on the street.
“Sephy, if you don’t mind me saying...at some point, you’re going to have to accept that your life has changed.”
She looked at the god, confused. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you probably can’t just walk down the street like you want. I’m saying you’re going to have to start acting like a goddess...or at least a god’s lover.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, Hermes!” She didn’t mean to sound so frustrated, but this was not the time to have this discussion.
“Okay, okay,” he said, holding up his hands. “Just trying to be helpful.”
“Well, you’re not.”
He offered her a dull look, not seeming at all frustrated by how much of a brat she was being. “Was that really necessary?”
She sighed. “No...I’m sorry, Hermes. Things are just really...awful right now.”
“It’s okay, Sephy. Let me know if you need a lift.”
He winked and left her alone on the roof.
Before she went into the hospital, Persephone called into work. With each ring, anxiety pooled in her stomach. She’d gone from enjoying Demetri’s company to dreading the sight of him.
“Persephone,” Demetri answered. “How is your friend.”
“She’s…not good,” Persephone said. “I won’t be in today.”
“Of course,” he said. “Take all the time you need.”
The sympathy in his voice made her grind her teeth. This man gave her whiplash. He could be considerate when he wanted to, and vengeful when he had to.
“I’m going to need an extension on the exclusive,” she said. She held her breath as she waited for him to speak. Finally, he said, “I’ll see what I can do, but Persephone...I can’t make any promises.”
That wasn’t the response she was looking for, and there was an unsettling twist in her stomach.
“If you want me as your employee, Demetri, then you won’t push me on this.”
He sighed, and she imagined him rubbing his fingers between his brows as if he had a headache. She’d seen him do it on multiple occasions, especially when he’d been looking at his computer screen too long.
“I’ll deal with it,” he said. “Just...take care of your friend...and yourself.”
She hung up without saying thank you.
When she arrived on the second floor of the hospital, she learned from Lexa’s mother that the doctor had visited this morning. He said Lexa’s vital signs were improving. Persephone felt her chest swell with hope.
“That’s good news, right?”
“It’s positive,” she responded, “Their real worry is her brain.”
Eliska went on to explain that Lexa had brain contusions and that the extent of her injuries was unknown, but it could range from minor to severe.
Persephone didn’t like those odds.
The hope she’d felt a moment ago, shattered.
There wasn’t much to do at the hospital, so Persephone perched in a window and pulled out her laptop. She intended to catch up on the news, but her mind got tangled up in Hermes words.
You’re going to have to start acting like a goddess.
What does that even mean? She mumbled to herself. Was he trying to tell her she needed to be like Aphrodite or Hera? Persephone wasn’t interested in giving up the things that tied her to the mortal world. They were what she’d formed her identity around when she’d come to New Athens and now it seemed like all of that was being taken away.
Everyone wanted her to be someone she wasn’t.
Persephone distracted herself by reading up on Apollo.
As it turned out, others were now coming forward with stories like the ones Persephone had published in New Athens News—instances where Apollo had threatened to dismantle the careers of his lovers if they left him.
She wondered if that was why she had yet to hear from Apollo.
“These new allegations emerged just days after Hades’ lover, Persephone Rosi, published a scathing article about the god.”
Still, the article refused to lay blame on the God of Music, stating, “The allegations have yet to be confirmed. Divine Entertainment has reached out to Apollo’s representatives, though they have declined to issue a statement at this time.”
Probably because Apollo needs a new oracle, she thought.
Persephone noticed something green in her peripheral and turned to find vines sprouting from the windowsill and climbing up the glass. Fueled by her anger, they were growing fast. She slammed her hand against them, as if she were smashing an insect and tore them down.
Gods she was a disaster.
“You okay?” Persephone jumped and turned to find Jaison.
He looked awful.
“Have you slept?” she asked.
He offered a weary smile. “Here and there.”
“You should rest,” she encouraged. “You can go to our apartment. It’s closer than yours.”
“I don’t...what if something happens while I’m gone? Or asleep? What if I miss…”
Persephone knew what he was going to say—what if he missed saying goodbye? She had no response to that because she wondered the same thing.
“The doctors said her vitals were better today.”
Jaison just nodded. Something else was on his mind. He toed the ground, hands in his pockets and then sat down on the already-cramped windowsill. Persephone shifted, watching him intently.
“Did Hades say he could help?” he spoke fast, like he wanted to get the words out so this conversation could be over.
Persephone didn’t think that question would hurt so much, but it stole her breath. She pressed her lips tight, her eyes watered.
“He said...we haven’t lost her yet.”
Jaison nodded. “I figured.”
Persephone’s brows drew together. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged, choosing not to look at her. “He’s the God of the Dead, not the God of the Living. Why would he save a life when he can gain another resident?”
“Hades isn’t like that,” Persephone said. “There’s more to it than you think. The Fates—”
“So he says,” Jaison replied. “But...how do you really know that’s true?”
“Jaison.” Her voice shook as she spoke. She believed Hades because she’d seen the threads on his skin, one for each life he’d bargained.
“You defend him, but what does it say about him? That he will not even help you when you need him most?”
Because I don’t need him the most right now. Lexa does, she thought.
“That’s not fair, Jaison.”
“Maybe you’re right,” the mortal replied. “Sorry, Seph.”
She didn’t tell him it was okay because it wasn’t. Jaison’s words were unkind, and worse, they burrowed under her skin.