A Touch of Darkness (Hades & Persephone 1)

“What do you mean?” Persephone’s question was snappier than she intended.

Lexa shrugged and then said, “Never mind.”

Persephone wanted to ask Lexa to elaborate. What had she meant about being vulnerable? But before she could, a stall opened, and Lexa left. Persephone waited, sorting through her thoughts, trying to figure out what Lexa might have been talking about when another stall opened.

After Persephone used the restroom, she looked for Lexa, expecting her to be waiting, but couldn’t find her. She looked toward the balcony where Hades supposedly made his deals. Had her friend wandered up?

Then her gaze met a pair of sapphire eyes. A woman was leaning against the column at the end of the stairs. Persephone thought she looked familiar but couldn’t place her. Her hair was like gold silk and as radiant as Helios’ sun. She had skin the color of cream, and she wore a modern version of a peplos in the color sea green.

“Looking for someone?” she asked.

“My friend,” Persephone said. “She was wearing red.”

“She went up,” the woman said, and tilted her chin toward the steps.

Persephone followed the woman’s gaze and the lady asked, “Have you been up?”

“Oh, no, I haven’t,” Persephone said.

“I can give you the password.”

“How did you get the password?”

The woman shrugged. “Here and there,” she paused. “So?”

Persephone couldn’t deny she was curious. This was the thrill she’d been seeking—the adventure she craved.

“Tell me.”

The woman chuckled, her eyes glittering in a way that made Persephone wary.

“Pathos.”

Pathos meant tragedy. Persephone found it horribly ominous.

“Th-thanks,” she said to the woman and headed up the spiral steps to the second floor. As she topped the stairs, she found nothing but a set of dark doors embellished with gold and a gorgon standing guard.

The creature’s face was badly scarred—evident, even with the white blindfold covering her eyes. Like others of her kind, she once had snakes in place of hair. Now, a white hooded cloak covered her head and hid her body.

As Persephone approached, she noticed that the walls were reflective, and she caught herself in the surface, observing the blush of her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes. Her glamour had weakened since she’d been here. She hoped if anyone noticed, she could blame it on the excitement and the alcohol.

The gorgon lifted her head, but did not speak. Persephone wasn’t sure why she felt so nervous. Maybe it was because she didn’t know what to expect beyond those doors. For a moment, there was silence, and then she heard the creature inhale and she froze.

“Divine,” the gorgon purred.

“Excuse me?” Persephone asked.

“Goddess,” the gorgon said.

“You are mistaken.”

The gorgon laughed. “I may have no eyes, but I know a god when I smell one. What hope have you of entering?”

“You are bold for a creature who knows they speak with a goddess,” Persephone said.

The gorgon smiled. “Only a goddess when it serves you?”

“Pathos!” Persephone snapped.