For the Love of Hades (Loves of Olympus 2)

“No. Not yet.” He did not look at her as he hurried to the balcony.

She ran after him, frustration and curiosity warring within her. She stepped onto the balcony, eager to express herself. But the sight that greeted stunned her into silence. The murky skies of the Underworld were full black. Strange clouds, churning and twisting, hovered over the fields of Asphodel. The wind roared, bowing the grasses flat before sending the tree limbs sharply upward.

She gasped. Within the clouds, pockets of red and orange leapt and fell. Fire. She glanced at Hades, looking for reassurance. But he stood, staring into the fields before them. His hands gripped the stone of the balcony, his stance at the ready.

But ready for what? She moved to his side, growing ever concerned by the roar of the wind, the flashes of strange fire and lightening. His attention did not waver. She shielded her face from the winds and followed his gaze. The fields were empty, save one.

A man stood, peering up.

Another tremor shook them. But Persephone’s eyes remained fixed upon the man. The sky snapped, thunder boomed, and a large hole appeared at his feet. He slipped, one foot sliding forward, before he jumped back from the edge. It gaped angrily, casting a red glow on the grasses lining the sudden gash.

Persephone moved forward, gripping the railing of the banister at Hades’ side. Fire rose from below, lightening forced from above, both caught in the spiraling winds. The man braced himself as the gust of fire wrapped and twisted about him. Orange flames seared, lightening licked and pricked, yet he did not move. The wind picked up, the flames rising with it. His wheaten curls lifted and fell, but the billowing folds of his exomie burned away. And still his gaze remained constant on the clouds above.

The clouds split, unleashing ice and rain upon him.

“Why does he not seek shelter?” she whispered, vaguely aware that Hades stood beside her.

His voice was low. “He is waiting.”

“For what?”

But Persephone saw her then. A woman fell, tumbling from the angry black clouds. Skeins of long honey hair streamed up, shielding her face from view. The man in the field leaned forward, teetering precariously on the edge of the open hole. His feet and legs were red, slipping closer to the entrance. His every muscle tightened, readying.

The wind fell still.

She gripped Hades’ arm. “He will fall…”

“They will not.” Hades lifted his hand, his fingers rippling slowly, forcefully, pulling towards himself in one undulating wave.

A sudden gust caught the woman, casting her safely into the man’s arms. Hades scooped his hand sharply, pulling his arm towards his chest. The wind echoed his motion, lifting and carrying the pair far from the gaping hole. Hades exhaled. His hand opened, falling back to the railing, and releasing the couple upon the thick grasses of Asphodel.

The sky cleared, the clouds rolling back with a startling speed. The roaring wind softened. And the hole vanished, leaving the field whole, its grasses waving calmly in the ever present breeze.

But Persephone could not tear her eyes from the couple. The man sat up, cradling the woman with an almost reverent tenderness. He swept the hair from the woman’s face, cupping her cheek. His smile was blinding as he pulled her limp form to him.

“This is him? Ariston?” Persephone did not care that tears rolled down her cheek.

“It is.” Hades’ voice was husky.

Ariston was gazing at the woman, speaking to her. The woman moved then, touching his lips and stroking his cheek. She pressed her lips to Ariston’s, wrapping her arms about him fiercely.

Persephone turned from them, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Such a bittersweet reunion.”

“There is no sadness there,” he murmured. “There is only joy.”

She looked back to find the pair. The woman stood, pulling Ariston up. She wrapped her arms about him and leaned into him as he kissed her soundly. Persephone heard the woman laugh, and smiled as the two headed to the shore. A boat waited.

“Elysium?” she asked, turning her still wet eyes to him.

He barely glanced at her as he made his way back inside the hall. “Yes.”

She watched them. They held tightly to each other, climbing into the boat and sailing to the end of their journey. Hades was right; there was no sadness there. Such pleasure, such joy… she envied them. They would never be parted.

“You’d come to me for aid with your love,” Hades said, his words clipped.

She took a deep breath, watching the couple a moment longer. She turned, joining him in the hall. “Hades,” she murmured, unable to stop the quiver in her voice. She had no time to delay. He would send her away soon. And she knew, somehow, he’d take pains to avoid ever seeing her again.

He glanced at her, resting one hard arm across the polished black mantle. He turned, ill at ease. He pushed off the mantle, paced the room and sat in his chair. His every muscle tensed as he turned his gaze upon her. She shook her head, coming to stand before him.