Asphodel (8 page)

“That flower doesn’t grow on earth,” Chloe says quietly.

“What do you mean it doesn’t grow on earth?” I make a hand-gesture toward the flower. “It looks like it’s growing to me.”

“What my sister means is that flower should not be growing on earth,” Charis adds.

I frown and tap my foot. “Well, who planted it there then?”

Charis shrugs. “I don’t know.”

At the moment, I decide that I’m taking this matter into my own hands. Marching ahead, I shove Charis out of the way. There is only one way to find out what is so damn special about this flower. I’ll just pick it and find out.

But Charis doesn’t let me get that far. Seconds after I’ve shoved her out of the way, she’s on her feet, rushing toward me. She barrels into my side and knocks me to the ground. I squirm beneath her, loosening my arm and I punch her in the side. She winces, clutching her ribcage and falls on the ground next to me. On my knees, I crawl toward the flower and once I finally reach it, I place my thumb and forefinger on the stem. I start pulling and then Chloe shrieks, “Stop! Picking that flower is a bad omen!”

I sit back, my fingers still on the stem. “What do you mean a bad omen? Don’t you think I’d know if picking the flower was a bad omen?”

“No,” says Chloe. “Like Charis said earlier, you don’t what kind of flower it is.”

“Just don’t pick it,” Charis grumbles, still clutching her side, struggling to sit up.

I start pulling on the flower again as looks of panic sweep across the twins’ child-like faces. “If one of you doesn’t give me a clear answer in ten seconds I’m going to pick this flower.”

Charis grunts and exhales, finally on her feet. “No. You’re going to take your fingers off the stem first or we’re not telling you anything.”

I sneer between her and Chloe. “How do I know you’re not trying to trick me? How do I know that once I remove my fingers that both of you won’t play the “let’s not tell Persephone” game?”

Charis grits her teeth and blanches painfully. “I swear on my sister’s life.”

“Charis!” Chloe squeals with a hurt look on and her face.

I’m an only child, but I imagine swearing on your sibling’s life is a very serious thing. Especially after seeing Chloe’s reaction. I scoot back the slightest bit and remove my fingers from the stem. “Explain,” I demand as I place my hands on my waist.

“You can’t pick that flower because it doesn’t come from this world. It comes from the world beneath us,” Charis says.

“What?”

Chloe steps forward. “That flower only grows in the Underworld. It’s an asphodel.”

Then Charis adds, “The flower of the dead.”

Hades

H
ades stood at the end of the field watching the Persephone and the twin wood nymphs argue over the flower he planted at the edge of the field.
“Pick the flower,”
he said in a hushed voice.
“Pick the flower.”

Still, Persephone did not pick it. Those damn twins stopped her.

Hades planted the asphodel in the yard, knowing that it was the most beautiful flower in the world. Well, not in this world, his world, the underworld. He also knew that Persephone was the daughter of Demeter, the Goddess of the Harvest and she would have been taught to appreciate the beauty of plant-life and she’d also appreciate the unique beauty of a flower like the asphodel.

For a moment, he thought she was going to pick it. For a moment her dainty fingers rested on the stem and she was seconds away from plucking it from the earth. Until the twins intervened and told her what it was. The identical pair with the crowns of raven curls were ruining everything. They knew when they saw it that something was off about an asphodel growing above ground. Perhaps they even sensed that something would happen afterwards.

Hades knew what would happen to her too. Once she picked that flower, the earth beneath her would crumble. She would lose her balance, and therefore tumble from the land of the living into the land of the dead. She would be the Queen of the Dead and Hades would not give her back. However, this was going to be easier said than done.  Hades knew Zeus, and he knew Demeter. Zeus would be outraged at the fact that after all this time, Hades was able to find a way around the sensitive time shield. Demeter would be distraught at losing her child whom to which she was extremely attached to. Hades didn’t care about them though, he knew what he wanted and he was selfish.

He snapped to attention when Persephone and the twins left the yard, wandering into the house. Seconds later, Demeter rushed out the back doors, hands on hips, a fierce gleam in her eye. She’d remove the flower, Hades was certain of it, but he did have some time left. A few hours to be exact. And that was just enough time to come up with another plan. Something that would ensure that during this seventeen year span he wouldn’t end up empty handed.

The white petals of the asphodel blurred in his vision and Hades knew exactly what he was going to do. But before executing his plan, Hades glanced at the patio where Persephone now stood, lost in a trance, eyes centered on the flower.
This is my year,
Hades thought.

Then, with a twist of his invisibility cloak, he blew the Goddess a kiss and returned to the underworld to await her arrival.

Persephone

A
fter my party ended and every guest had left, I sit on the back porch staring up at the moon, consumed with anger. I’m mad at myself for being so impressionable. I should have known better. I should have known that Hades was behind planting that flower. Shortly after the twins told me what kind of flower it was I had a moment where I could practically feel death’s icy grasp on the back of my neck. I’d almost picked the flower. I would have picked the flower. I owed the twins big for stopping me.

There were several moments where I felt enchanted. Like I was under a spell. Thinking about it, I wouldn’t have put it past Hades to trick me or use some kind of magic to pull me under. He definitely could have placed some sort of enchantment over the flower that drew me to it.

The sound of crinkling plastic yanks me from my thoughts. I glance to my left and notice Adonis in his back yard, putting a black trash bag into a tin garbage can. Moonlight shimmers down and graces the tips of his chestnut hair and certain strands of it look silver. A fuzzy feeling buzzes in my stomach and I don’t even realize I’m gawking. His tan skin glitters like he’s covered in amber gemstones. And he’s wearing a cut-off shirt that reveals the toned muscles in his arms.

Adonis places the lid on the garbage can and the tin lid clunks against the tin can, echoing in the night air. I swallow hard, nervous, thinking that it’s funny that I’m so captivated by watching Adonis do silly household chores. Watching him take out the trash is like watching a swan as it glides gracefully across a calm body of water. I wonder how I’d react if I saw him washing dishes or running the vacuum.

“Hey! You!” Blinking, I snap out of my trance when I see him staring back at me. He jogs toward me and reminds of Trojan soldier, charging forward into battle. I drop my gaze. Heat flushes my cheeks and pretty soon my whole face tingles. I hope he didn’t catch me staring at him. And if he did, I hope doesn’t mention it. I don’t how I’ll react if he does.

“Hi.” The words exit my throat so softly I can barely hear them. I clear my throat. “Hi,” I repeat, louder.

Adonis plops down next to me. His perfect white smile gleams in the moonlight. “How was the party, birthday girl?”

How did he know about my party? I don’t remember mentioning anything about a party to him. Maybe he had noticed all the cars in our driveway and made the assumption.

“Good.” One word answers are the only words I can muster up at this point. And my eyes keep trailing down from his face to his loose cut-off, just below his arms. There is an opening and I try to fight off the urge from staring at his muscled abs, but it doesn’t work. I feel like I’m burning them with my eyes. And either Adonis doesn’t notice or he’s pretending not to.

He lifts his head, looking up into the sky. Flecks of brightness flicker in his ocher irises. “There are lots of stars out tonight,” he muses. “They’re beautiful aren’t they?”

“Yeah.” The only problem is that I’m not looking at the stars, I’m looking at him. Sometimes with Adonis, I think that the word beautiful might be an understatement. No. More than sometimes.

He lowers his head and I meet his gaze. He stands and I’m saddened by the fact that he’s already planning to leave. “Well—I.” He freezes as the sliding glass door opens and mom waltzes out onto the porch. His eyes flick toward her. “Hi Mrs. Jones,” he says politely.

We’ve had many last names through the centuries and “Jones” is our most recent adoptive surname. Mom always says, “Nobody is more normal that the Joneses.”

“Hello, Adonis.” Mom waits a moment, staring at him intensely and I can tell by the look on her face she wants him to go home.

Adonis smiles at me and I return his smile, my insides fluttering. I have a stomach full of butterflies. “See you tomorrow Persephone.”

“See you tomorrow.” Then he jogs toward his house, disappearing into the shadows.

Mom sits down in the same spot he was sitting in, her emerald eyes immediately reverting to the moon. “Selene has been busy.”

I center on the night lantern being held up by miles of endless black. “She definitely has.” There were so many Gods and Goddesses that sometimes I forgot about some. I’ve been away from that world for so long that I forget I’m a part of it most of the time.

Mom interrupts the moment of ambiance. “I don’t like the way you look at that boy.”

“Adonis?” My voice hikes.

“Yes,” mom says seriously. “Remember we can’t get close to the mortals. You know what will happen if they catch on.”

I huff and shift in my seat. “Yes,” I say in a snarky tone. “That means you’ll uproot me to another continent. Or who knows maybe finally there will be life on Mars. Then maybe you’ll move me to another planet.”

“I know you hate moving and we’ve gone over this. We don’t age. Mortals do. Adonis will get old. Eventually, he will die. Imagine how painful it will be for you to watch him age and wither away and you’ll still be young and youthful.”

“I wish you’d let me decide that for myself,” I snap.

“Maybe one day I will.” Mom rises from her seat and walks to the edge of the back porch. She picks up something from the ground and stalks through the yard. “What do you have in your hand?” I try to catch a glimpse of what she’s holding, but she keeps the object in her hand low—hidden from my sight. Following her, I try to keep up as she walks ahead to the redwood at the end of our yard. “Mom, what are you doing?”

She lifts her right hand, snapping a pair of hedge clippers. “The twins told me about the asphodel. I’m cutting it down.”

Those little snitches. “Did you have them spy on me?”

Mom stops and puts her left hand on her hip. “No not spying. You make it sound so deceitful. I just made sure they kept you safe. Hades only has until midnight to take you and I wanted to be sure that neither he nor Charon made a special appearance at your party.”

“Charon, the captain of the ferry from the Catalina Island thing?”

“Yes. Charon is Hades’ minion. He’s the ferryman for the dead. Only he can ferry a person across the Styx from the land of the living to the land of the dead. Hades is his master and does whatever Hades tells him to do.”

Mom starts walking again and I keep up with her stride for stride. “Don’t you think that I too will be on watch now. I won’t let him take me, mom.”

“He’s too crafty, Persephone and you are way too naïve. You don’t even know why he sent you the pomegranates.”

“Because you never told me,” I harrumph.

“You can’t eat in the realm of the dead or consume any food from it. If you do, you will be bound to that realm for part if not all of your eternal life.”

Red blurs in my vision like droplets of crimson oozing from a cut. In front of the tree grows a single red rose. The asphodel is nowhere in sight. I gawk at the fully bloomed flower, puzzled and scan the entire surrounding area. “I don’t understand. The asphodel was here a few hours ago. I don’t see it anywhere.”

I reach toward the flower and mom slaps my hand away. “Uh uh. Don’t you pick that.”

“But it’s just a rose.”

“You know Hades is the master of deception. He only has until one minute before midnight to take you.” Mom bends down, palming the hedge clippers.

I glance down at my watch as a loud snap fills my ears. “It is after midnight,” I say. “It’s one minute after midnight to be exact.” Mom stands gripping the rose and brings it to her nose. She inhales deeply and I watch intensely as her face lights up, the enticingly floral scent creeping into her lungs.

I snatch the rose from her. “Give me that.” I bring it my own nose desperate for its smell. A smell that reminds me of the spring and blazing summer sun. A smell that reminds me of the essence of life and beauty.

The lively scent of fresh air and flowers travels down my esophagus, blossoming inside of me. I swear that I’m a budding flower. My petals are unfurling. At any second I will fully bloom. But then, the rose starts glowing. A bright white light beams from the stem and it magically begins to transform. Before I realize what’s happening I stare at the flower in my hand. I’m not holding a rose anymore. I’m holding an asphodel.

Mom panics and immediately tries to snatch the flower from my grasp, but it’s too late. Within seconds of its transformation the asphodel has become speckles of small, glittering dust and it blows away in the wind.

Nothing happens.

Mom exhales and relief washes over her features. “Oh right,” she gasps. “It’s after midnight.” She pulls me to her chest and places a kiss on the top of my forehead. “Thank the God’s.” I step away from the embrace and mom tilts her head motioning to the house. “Come on. It’s late and you have school today.”

“Are you really going to make me go to school?” I shout as she turns her back to me. “After everything that’s happened!”