A Touch of Malice (Hades x Persephone Saga Book 3)
A Touch of Malice: Part 2 – Chapter 27

It was late when Persephone woke and found the space beside her empty. Hades had not come to bed. She rose and went in search of him, replaceing him outside on the balcony, cloaked in night. She stepped behind him and slid her arms around his waist. He tensed and his hands clamped down upon hers, breaking her hold as he twisted toward her.

“Persephone.”

She was a little taken aback by how quickly he’d turned.

“Will you not come to bed?” she asked, her voice a hushed whisper.

“I will be along shortly,” he said, letting go. Persephone held her hand to her chest.

“I don’t believe you.”

He stared for a moment, his expression blank.

“I cannot sleep,” he said. “I do not wish to disturb you.”

“You won’t disturb me,” she said. “Your absence is why I cannot sleep.”

She felt a little silly saying it aloud, but it was true that his presence made it easier for her to relax.

“We both know that isn’t true,” he said, and she flinched at his words because she knew he was referring to Pirithous. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her mouth from trembling. In the time since she’d met Hades, he’d never rejected her, and yet here he was, resisting. It hurt and it felt like blame.

“You’re right,” she said. “It isn’t true.”

She left him there but instead of returning to their bed, she made her way down the hallway, to the Queen’s Suite where she crawled beneath the cold covers and wept.

***

Persephone sat behind her desk, a cup of coffee between her hands. She stared blankly at the steam curling into the air, unable to focus. She hadn’t slept and she felt groggy. Her body wanted nothing more than to replace a quiet place and nap, but her thoughts were chaotic, running on repeat through her head.

She agonized, wavering between feeling at fault or angry for Hades’ distance. Perhaps she should have forced conversation around her reaction, but after he’d refused to come to bed, she’d lost her confidence, and instead, felt anxious about approaching the topic. She’d been triggered out of nowhere, and she’d lashed out at Hades, and while she knew that he, too, suffered, it was nothing compared to how embarrassed, how devastated, how violated she felt.

Another thought had occurred to her—what if he was no longer willing to explore his fantasies with her? What of her own?

A knock drew her attention, and Leuce entered carrying an armful of newspapers. She looked just as exhausted as Persephone felt.

“Are you alright?” Persephone asked.

The nymph placed the stack on her desk and shrugged. “I haven’t slept well since…”

Her words drifted off, but she did not need to finish her sentence because Persephone knew that she was struggling after the attack on Talaria Stadium.

“Some things have not changed since antiquity,” Leuce said. “You still kill each other, just with different weapons.”

She wasn’t wrong—society was just as violent as it was peaceful.

Persephone’s eyes fell to the stack of papers Leuce had brought her. The first was from New Athens News and the headline was about the attack on Talaria Stadium:

DEATH & VIOLENCE: THE CONSEQUENCE OF FOLLOWING THE GODS

It was an article from Helen that claimed that the attack was designed by Triad to force change—and that without conflict, mortals would continue to live under the thumb of the gods.

The stadium was chosen because the games represented the hold the gods still had on society and for that to change, it needed to be dismantled. The problem was, of the one hundred and sixty people who had died in that stadium, how many of them wanted to be martyrs for Triad?

Helen’s response was cruel: where were your gods?

“I can’t believe Demetri approved that article,” Leuce said but Persephone had a feeling Demetri hadn’t had much say in this. “Helen has gone mad.”

“I don’t think she really believes what she’s writing,” Persephone said. “I don’t think she thinks for herself at all.”

In fact, Persephone was sure of it.

“If you ever see her again, please turn her into a tree,” said Leuce.

Persephone offered a small laugh as Leuce left, closing the door behind her. For a moment, she sagged in her chair, feeling even more exhausted than before. Helen’s betrayal had been shocking, but this, it was something else. Something far worse. Almost like a declaration of war.

She straightened enough and read through a few more articles, her heart feeling more and more heavy with each headline:

At least 56 Deaths Attributed to Winter Weather—That’s Just Last Week

Millions Without Power and Water Due to Dangerous Winter Weather

Many Fear Food Crisis in the Midst of Winter Storm

But it was one heading in particular that drew her attention near the bottom of the page:

Several Artifacts Stolen From Museum

Persephone thought that was strange and remember that Hades had mentioned relics sourced from the black market but what if they’d been taken from museums?

My mother will hide in plain sight.

Persephone dialed Ivy at the front desk.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Ivy, have Antoni bring the car around. I will be stepping out for a few minutes.”

“Of course,” there was a pause and then she added. “And…what should I tell Lord Hades? If he asks where you’ve gone?”

Persephone stiffened at the question. She was frustrated with Hades, but she also didn’t want him to worry.

“You may tell him I’ve gone to The Museum of Ancient Greece,” Persephone replied and hung up the phone.

She put on her jacket and headed downstairs, passing Ivy’s desk.

“Enjoy your outing, my lady,” Ivy said as she left the building.

Persephone made her way down the icy steps. Antoni waited, smiling despite the cold.

“My Lady,” he said opening the door to the Lexus.

“Antoni,” she said with a smile as she slid into the warm cabin. As the cyclops entered the driver’s side, he asked, “Where to, my lady?”

“The Museum of Ancient Greece.”

Antoni’s forehead wrinkled, a mark of his surprise.

“Research?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered. “You could call it that.”

The Museum of Ancient Greece was located at the center of New Athens. Antoni let her out at the curb, and she made her way through the courtyard, toward a set of marble steps and the entrance of the building. Persephone had visited the museum many times, usually on sunny days when the square was packed with people. Today, though, the landscape was barren and slippery, the marble statues that were usually blinding beneath the light, were buried under heaps of snow.

Upon entering the museum and going through security, she paused to take a breath, attempting to scent out her mother’s magic but all she could smell was coffee, cleaners, and dust. She wandered through exhibits, each one dedicated to a different era of Ancient Greece. The displays were beautiful, the items arranged elegantly. Despite the intrigue, it was the people she trained her gaze upon, searching for familiarity in their expressions or their body movement. It was challenging to identify a god if they had manipulated their glamour too much.

She was not sure how long she wandered the museum, but after an hour, she’d made her rounds through every exhibit, save for the children’s wing. As she stared at its entrance—brightly colored with an exaggerated font and cartoonish columns, she caught a familiar smell—a musky, citrus that made her blood run cold.

Demeter.

Her heart beat harder as she stepped further and further into the colorful and interactive wing, passing wax statues and models of ancient buildings, following the scent of Demeter’s magic until she found her at the center of a group of children. She had definitely taken steps to hide her true identity, appearing older with greying hair and a few more wrinkles, however, she still maintained that haughty air that was so reminiscent of her mother.

It appeared she was giving a tour, and right now she was explaining the history of the Panhellenic Games and their importance in their culture.

This is not what she had imagined, even when she’d guessed Demeter was hiding in plain sight.

Watching her with the children was like watching another god. She was no longer severe and there was a light to her eyes Persephone had not seen since she was very young. Then Demeter looked up and met Persephone’s gaze, and all of that kindness melted away. The moment was brief—a flicker of disappointment and anger and disgust—before she turned her gaze back to the children, a smile dancing across her facing so wide, her eyes creased.

“Why don’t you spend some time exploring? I’ll be here if you have any questions. Run along!”

“Thank you, Ms. Doso!” The children said in unison.

Persephone did not move once the children spirited away, but Demeter turned toward her, narrowing her eyes, lifting her chin into the air.

“Have you come to kill me?”

Persephone flinched. “No.”

“Then you have come to reprimand me.”

Persephone did not respond immediately.

“Well?” Demeter’s tone was sharp.

“I know what happened to you…before I was born,” Persephone said, noting the surprise in Demeter gaze, in the way her lips parted. Still, it was only a moment of weakness, a moment where Persephone glimpsed her mother’s true pain and anguished before she buried it again, scowling.

“Are you claiming to understand me now?”

“I would never pretend to know what you have gone through,” Persephone said. “But I wish I had known.”

“And what would that have changed?”

“Nothing, save that I might have spent less time angry with you.”

Demeter offered a savage smile. “Why regret anger? It feeds so many things.”

“Like your revenge?”

“Yes,” she hissed.

“You know you can stop this,” Persephone said. “There is no fighting Fate.”

“Do you believe that?” Demeter asked. “Given the fate of Tyche?”

Persephone’s lips flattened. It was Demeter’s admission.

“She loved you,” Persephone said.

“Perhaps—and yet, she too, told me I could not fight Fate and here I am—her thread cut by my hands.”

“Everyone can murder, mother,” Persephone said.

“And yet not everyone can murderer a god,” she replied.

“So this is your path,” Persephone said. “All because I fell in love with Hades?”

Demeter’s lips curled. “Oh, righteous daughter, this is beyond you. I will take down every Olympian who sided with Fate, every worshipper who holds them in high regard, and eventually, I will kill them, too, and when I am finished, I will tear this world apart around you.”

Persephone’s anger shook her body.

“You think I will stand aside and watch?”

“Oh, flower. You will have no choice.”

It was then Persephone understood there was no reclaiming the Demeter beneath the surface. That goddess was long gone, and while she appeared ever so often—when she smiled at children and when she recalled her trauma, she would never be that person again. This is who she thought she had to be for survival.

She’d lost her mother a long time ago and this…this was goodbye.

“The Olympians are looking for you.”

Then Demeter offered a horrible smile. She looked as if she were about to speak when she was interrupted.

“Ms. Doso!” A child called and Demeter turned, her twisted mouth and narrow eyes vanished, replaced by a smile and sparkling eyes.

“Yes, my darling?” Her voice was quiet and cool—a tone reserved for sweet lullabies.

“Tell us the story of Heracles!”

“Of course,” she offered a laugh that sounded silvery. Her gaze shifted to Persephone and once again her false facade melted away, and she spoke. “You should fear their search for me, daughter.”

Then the Goddess of Harvest turned, dismissing Persephone without another glance.

Demeter’s words were a warning, and it cast a horrible shadow over her heart. Persephone took a deep breath, hating how her throat filled with the taste of her mother’s magic, and left the museum.