A Touch of Malice (Hades x Persephone Saga Book 3)
A Touch of Malice: Part 1 – Chapter 10

Apollo returned Persephone to Alexandria Tower without warning. Her only indication he was about to act was the smell of his magic.

“Apollo!” she growled, but her frustration was lost as the floor seemed to go out from beneath her feet. Her stomach lurched, the world flashed, and when it cleared, she found Hades sitting behind her desk in her new office.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” his voice rumbled—a low growl and her brows furrowed.

He did not sound pleased, but he seemed comfortable, eased back in her chair, a finger pressed against his mouth, legs spread wide, and she had the thought that she would fit snugly in the gap between his thighs.

“Are you well?” she asked.

“Harmonia is awake,” he said.

Persephone’s heart rose into her throat.

“How is she?” her words came in a rush.

“We’re about to replace out,” he said and rose to his feet, coming around the desk. “Did you enjoy your time with Apollo?”

Persephone wasn’t surprised that Hades knew where she’d gone, he could probably smell Apollo’s magic. Still, she frowned, knowing Hades was not happy—and yet, there was nothing he could do. She and Apollo were bound by a bargain she’d insisted on fulfilling when he’d attempted to release her from the contract—something Hades had not at all been excited to learn.

Still, Persephone stood by her decision. The last thing Apollo needed was to feel abandoned.

“On a numeric scale?” She asked. “I’d give it about a six.”

Hades lifted a brow. It was as if he wanted to be amused, but his irritation was winning.

“I’m sorry you are not pleased.”

“I am not displeased with you,” he answered. “I’d just rather Apollo not cart you off to Delphi during your mother’s tantrum and while Adonis and Harmonia’s attackers are still out there.”

“Did you…follow me?”

The thought didn’t upset her—in fact, she wished Hades could trace her location more often. There were times when he was not able to replace her—somehow, and she wasn’t sure exactly how—she blocked his ability to sense and trace her magic. It had happened a few times—once when she had gotten lost in the Underworld, again when Apollo had stolen her away for a ridiculous karaoke competition, and finally when Pirithous had kidnapped her. Each instance was more dangerous than the last.

Hades eyes fell, and he lifted her hand so that her ring was on full display, the gems glinting under the light, the center to several delicately crafted flowers.

“These stones—tourmaline and dioptase—give off a unique energy, your energy. As long as you wear this, I can replace you anywhere.”

Persephone wasn’t surprised by that ability; Hades was the God of Precious Metals.

“It wasn’t…intentional,” Hades added. “I didn’t set out to…put a tracker on you.”

“I believe you,” she said. “It’s…comforting.”

Hades stared at her and then brushed his lips along her fingers. His breath was warm against her cold skin.

“Come, Aphrodite is waiting,” he said, and they vanished.

***

They appeared outside a mansion composed of white stucco and glass. The front door was wood and had a long, elegant handle. A window beside it allowed Persephone to look in and see a staircase. She would have never guessed that the study she had been in last night belonged to this house. That room was traditional and warm, while this was modern and sleek.

Persephone shivered, hugging herself as the wind whipped around them, smelling of salt and stinging cold. Demeter’s winter had not neglected the islands around New Greece either, it seemed.

“Can’t we just teleport inside like last time?” Persephone asked, her teeth chattering.

“We could,” he answered. “If we had been invited.”

“What do you mean? Didn’t Aphrodite let you know Harmonia was awake?”

Hades did not reply immediately.

“Hades,” Persephone warmed.

“She sent Hermes for you,” Hades replied. “He found me instead.”

They stared at one another. Persephone wasn’t sure what to say. Aphrodite was trying to go behind Hades’ back, and while Persephone wondered what the Goddess of Love hoped to accomplish sans Hades, she also wondered if Hades realized she wouldn’t have come without him.

“You won’t do this without me,” he said.

She had her answer. It was a blow—a pain she hadn’t anticipated. He didn’t trust her, not with this anyway, and while she recognized she didn’t have the best track record for obeying, this was a different—she was different. Her eyes stung and she swallowed a lump in her throat as she turned her head almost mechanically to face the entrance.

“Persephone—”

But whatever Hades was about to say was lost as the door opened. A woman answered—except Persephone did not think she was a woman at all. She looked alive enough—rosy cheeks and glassy eyes—but she could not sense any kind of actual life—no fluttering heartbeat or warmth.

She must be an animatronic, Persephone thought, one of Hephaestus’s creations.

“Welcome.” Her tone was soft, breathy—it reminded Persephone of Aphrodite’s voice, only slightly strained. “My lord and lady are not expecting guests. State your names please.”

Persephone started to open her mouth, but Hades breezed past the women—robot—whatever she was—and entered the home.

“Excuse me!” She called after Hades. “You are entering the private residence of Lord and Lady Hephaestus!”

“I am Lady Persephone,” she said. “That is Lord Hades.”

The God of the Dead turned to her. “Come, Persephone.”

She folded her arms over her chest and glared. “You could show some courtesy. You weren’t invited, remember?”

Hades’ mouth tightened.

The animatronic was silent, and Persephone wondered for a moment if she had broken it, but her face changed—lighting up as if she were excited or pleased and said, “Lady Persephone, you are most welcome. Please, follow me.”

The woman turned and started toward an open living area. As she passed Hades, she spoke, “Lord Hades, you are most unwelcome.”

He rolled his eyes but fell into step beside Persephone. Heat unfurled in her chest as he grasped her hand. She tried to pull free, but he held tight, and she relented. Despite how angry she was with him, it helped that he wanted to touch her.

Aphrodite’s home was what she expected—luxurious, open, romantic—and then there were elements that weren’t at all what she imagined—modern lines, metal art, and polished wood. It was a fusion of the Goddess of Love and the God of Fire, and yet, from what she had heard and seen of the two, it surprised her that their distinct differences meshed so well—and so obviously—in their home. She’d expected them to live separately and for that to be obvious.

They were led down a hallway—on one side were windows, on the other canvases sprayed with blush pink and gold. Persephone kept her gaze on the art, unwilling to look out upon the garden opposite and see all of Aphrodite’s tropical plants weighed down with snow.

The maid paused to open the door and announced them as she entered. “My Lady Aphrodite, Lady Harmonia—Lady Persephone and Lord Hades are here to see you.”

They stepped into a library and while it had the same floor to ceiling windows on the wall opposite her, it somehow seemed warmer. Perhaps it was all the mahogany bookcases, lined with leather bound and gold embossed books, or the lamps which cast an amber glow upon the walls. Aphrodite and Harmonia sat side-by-side on a settee upholstered in rich velvet the color of the cold ocean outside. In front of them was a tray with a steaming pot of tea, mugs, and small sandwiches.

Persephone couldn’t look away from Harmonia. The blonde goddess was a beauty just like her sister. She appeared more youthful, her face less angled, and her expressions softer. Apollo’s magic had done a lot to heal the cuts and bruises that had marred her skin last night, but it was evident she had been through trauma. It haunted her eyes and the energy around her. She sat as if she feared she might break—or perhaps as if she trusted no one, even though she was safe. Curled up on her lap was Opal, who was freshly bathed, her fur white as snow once more.

Persephone tried not to stare at Harmonia’s horns—or what was left of them, anyway. The white bone looked wrong jutting out of her silk-like hair.

Would they grow back, she wondered? Could they be restored with magic? She did not know because she’d never known anyone to get close enough to a god or goddess to dehorn them. She would have to ask Hades later.

“Thank you, Lucy,” Aphrodite said, and the animatronic bowed before departing. The goddess’s eyes shifted to Persephone and then to Hades.

“I see Hermes failed to follow instructions,” she comment briskly.

“You can thank Apollo for that,” Persephone said.

“Persephone and I are doing this together, Aphrodite,” Hades said.

There was silence.

“Persephone,” Aphrodite said. “Please, have a seat.”

She took a chair opposite the two goddesses. Aphrodite continued as if Hades were not darkening the room, though he came to stand behind Persephone.

“Tea?” she offered.

“Yes,” Persephone’s voice was soft. She wanted something warm to break the chill in her bones.

Aphrodite poured tea and slide the cup and saucer toward her.

“Sugar?”

“No, thank you,” she said, taking a sip of the bitter drink.

“Cucumber sandwich?”

It was strange to watch Aphrodite play hostess, and Persephone got the impression she was being so courteous because of the role she wanted her to fill in replaceing Harmonia’s attackers.

“No, thank you,” Persephone said.

Silence followed, and it was Harmonia who broke it with a soft clearing of her throat.

“I suppose you are here to speak with me,” she said, her voice was low and soothing, she spoke carefully but lyrically.

Persephone hesitated, her eyes shifting to Aphrodite for a second. “If you are feeling well enough. We need to know what happened last night.”

She couldn’t tell how Harmonia felt about taking them through the trauma of her encounter with her attackers. She didn’t flinch or blink. It was as if she were locking up all her emotions in an effort to communicate with them.

“Where shall I start?” She asked and looked to Hades.

“Where were you when you were attacked?” he asked.

“I was in Concorida Park,” she said.

Concorida Park was in New Athens. It was large and had many wooded paths.

“In the snow?” Persephone asked.

She offered a small smile. “I go for a walk there every afternoon with Opal,” she said. The fluffy white dog in her lap grunted. “We took our usual route. I didn’t sense anything untoward—no violence or animosity before they attacked.”

The fact that Harmonia walked through the park often and took the same route probably meant that someone knew her routine and planned the attack. The snow also ensured few witnesses.

“How did it happen?” Hades asked. “What do you remember first?”

“Something heavy consumed me,” she answered. “Whatever it was, took me to the ground. I could not move, and I could not summon my power.”

There was a long stretch of silence and then Harmonia began again.

“It was easy for them after that—they came out of the woods, masked. What I remember most was the pain in my back—a knee settled on my spine as someone took my horns and sawed them off.”

“No one came to your aid?” Persephone asked.

“There was no one,” Harmonia said and shook her head. “Only these people who hate me for being something I cannot help.”

“After they took your horns, what did they do?” Hades asked. The question was careful, but almost made Persephone cringe.

“They kicked and punched and spit upon me,” she answered.

“Did they say anything while they…attacked you?”

“They said all sorts of things,” she said. “Broken things.”

She paused for a moment, her lashes gathering with tears. “They used words like whore and bitch and abomination, and they sometimes strung them together into a question like where is your power now? It was as if they thought I was a goddess of battle, as if I had done some sort of wrong against them. All I could think is that I could have brought them peace and instead they brought me agony.”

Persephone did not know what to say, perhaps that was because there was nothing to say. She had no ability to understand the people who had hurt Harmonia or their motive. It was hate, pure and simple. Hate for what she was and nothing more.

“Is there anything else you remember? Anything that you can recall now that would help us replace these people?” Hades continued. Then he added gently, “Take your time.”

Harmonia thought, and after a moment, she started to shake her head. “They used the word lemming,” she said. “They said you and your lemmings are all headed toward destruction when the rebirth begins.”

“Lemming,” Persephone repeated, and looked up at Hades. “That is what the woman at The Coffee House called me.”

She’d also heard the word rebirth before, in the article Helen had written about Triad. Were these masked attackers members? Or just rogue supporters?

Harmonia was quiet and lifted her slender, shaking hand to touch the broken horns at the front of her head.

“Why do you think they did it?” She whispered.

“To prove a point,” Hades replied.

“What is the point, Hades?” Aphrodite asked, the anger evident in her voice.

“That gods are expendable.”

Expendable.

Disposable.

Useless.

“And they wanted proof,” he added. “It won’t be long before news of your attack spreads whether we want it to or not.”

“Are you not the god of threats and violence?” Aphrodite asked. “Use your seedy underbelly to get ahead of this.”

“You forget, Aphrodite, that we must discover who they are first. By that time, word will have already spread, if not among the masses, among those who wish to see us fall.”

Persephone found herself thinking of Sybil—what would the oracle do in a time like this? It was a PR nightmare, but worse, it communicated that the gods were fallible—that they could, potentially, be defeated—and the last time mortals had fought against the gods, the world had drowned in their blood.

“But we must let it go for now,” he said.

“Why? Do you wish for this to happen again?” Aphrodite demanded. “It has already happened twice!”

The words were an insult to Hades—and Persephone—who only wished to help.

“Aphrodite,” Persephone spoke her name, her tone warning

“I understand what Lord Hades is saying,” Harmonia interrupted. “Someone is bound to let their knowledge of my ordeal slip and when they do, you will be ready…won’t you, Hades?”

Persephone looked from Harmonia to the God of the Dead who nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “We will be ready.”