Goddess of Spring (17 page)

When she reached the dais Hades hesitated, then with a sidelong glance at Iapis he met her as she took the first of the dais steps. He offered her his hand, just as he had when he had helped her into his chariot the previous day. When Lina placed her hand within his, the dark god lifted it slowly to his lips.

“I hope you slept well last night, Goddess.”

“Yes, thank you, I did,” Lina said, trying to ignore the way her skin tingled at his touch.

“It pleases me to hear you say so,” Hades said.

Lina smiled foolishly and nodded. Hades was different today—more powerful and more sure of himself. And there was something else about him, too, a magnetism that today he seemed to have focused on her. Standing so close to him she could feel the strength of his presence, and she found it a little intimidating, as well as very, very sexy.

Admittedly, it had been a long time since she had been around such a tall, virile man. She snuck a look at him as he helped her up the steps and led her to her chair. Okay, so she had quite possibly never been around any man like him before. She watched the cape wrap enticingly around his body as he turned and sat beside her. He definitely looked the part of God of the Underworld.

“Eurydice, you need not remain behind. You may stay with your goddess,” Hades called to the girl, who was still standing in the doorway.

Ashamed that she had forgotten about the spirit, Lina whispered a quick thank-you to Hades as Eurydice scampered across the room and up the dais steps to take her place next to Lina's chair.

“Carry on as usual, Iapis,” Hades said.

Iapis nodded to the god before disappearing from the room.

“Iapis is going to the front of the palace. There he will announce that I will hear petitions. It will not be long before the first begin to arrive,” he explained.

“Do you do this every day?” Lina asked.

“No,” Hades shook his head.

“Oh,” Lina said. “How often do you hear their petitions?”

“As often as I feel it necessary.”

“Oh,” she said again, feeling uncomfortable at the shortness of his answers.

Hades watched Persephone brush nervously at her hair, and the little gesture of discomfort made him realize that he had fallen back into acting like he was made of stone.
Give the goddess a chance.
His friend's words rang in his memory. Hades cleared his throat and leaned close to Persephone.

“I can sense the needs of the dead. It is not that I can hear their feelings and desires; it is more like I become aware of their increasing restlessness. I can sense when they need me, and that is when I open the Great Hall to hear their petitions.”

“That's an incredible gift—to be able to respond to the needs of mortal souls.”

Hades turned his head so that he could look into the goddess's violet eyes. Their faces were very close, and he could smell the sweet, feminine scent that clung to her body.

“It does not repulse you that I am linked so strongly to the dead?”

“Of course not,” she said. He suddenly looked so vulnerable that Lina had an overwhelming urge to brush her fingers down his face, to soothe the lines of worry that creased his handsome brow. Instead she reached out and took Eurydice's hand. She squeezed it and smiled up at the spirit, who grinned back at her. “Some of my best friends are dead.”

Hades looked from the spirit to the goddess and all at once hope blossomed within his chest with such bittersweet intensity that he made a show of calling for wine to cover his heart-wrenching response.

The servants instantly settled a small table beside them and Hades was able to collect himself as they poured golden liquid into two goblets.

Lina nodded her thanks, sipped, and her face broke into a beatific smile.

“Oh, it's ambrosia! This is so delicious. Thank you for thinking of it.”

Fascinated, Hades watched her. Why was she so different? She wasn't repulsed by the dead. She obviously cared a great deal about Eurydice; she even called her “friend.” And things that most immortals took for granted, like ambrosia and the opulence of the gods, Persephone delighted in, as if everything was new and interesting to her. She was a puzzle, an intriguing puzzle he was beginning to yearn to solve.

“If it pleases you so much, I will have to remember to serve it often,” Hades said. He raised his goblet to her.

Stomach fluttering, Lina tapped her goblet against his. The stilted, wooden Hades who had abruptly left their dinner last night appeared to have been banished. He had been replaced by a charming, powerful god. Her cheeks felt flushed and her body was incredibly warm. His dark, magnetic eyes were mesmerizing. Feeling a little lost, she forced her gaze from his and looked around the Great Hall, reminding herself to breathe.

The light from the chandeliers glinted off the silver helmet that sat on the table on the other side of Hades. It winked with an eerie glow that somehow made it hard to focus on. She felt the god's eyes on her and she looked back at him.

“The helmet is beautiful. I've never seen one like it,” she said.

“Thank you. It was a gift from the Cyclops,” Hades said, smiling in obvious pleasure at the compliment.

Cyclops? Wasn't that the guy with one eye?
Cyclops, a one-eyed monster who gifted Zeus with thunder and lightning, Poseidon with his trident, and Hades with the helmet—

Okay! Lina broke into her internal encyclopedic monologue. Whoever he was, she certainly didn't want to get into a discussion about mythological creatures with Hades. So she did what any calm, collected, mature woman would do—she changed the subject. Quickly.

“Your throne is very unusual, too. I don't recognize the stone from which it is made.”

“It is white chalcedony,” he said.

“Does it have special properties, too?” Lina asked.

“Yes, it banishes fear, hysteria, depression and sadness. I thought it a good choice for this particular room.”

“I agree with your choice.”

Hades turned his head and leaned toward her again, bringing their faces close together again. “Do you recognize the colored stone in this room?”

“It's amethyst.”

“It is the same color as your eyes, Persephone,” Eurydice said in a happy voice of discovery.

“Yes, I have noticed that, too,” Hades said slowly without releasing Lina's gaze.

His voice had deepened so that it was an audible caress, and Lina felt an answering flutter low in her stomach.

“The dead ask to speak to their god!” Iapis' voice carried his words with formal authority across the Great Hall.

Hades' attention shifted reluctantly away from her, and Lina mentally shook herself. How in the hell was she supposed to think about business with Hades beside her oozing Sex God? She almost wished he'd turn back into Mr. Wooden and Withdrawn. Almost.

She could only hope that Persephone was having better luck staying focused back in Tulsa.

“The dead may enter.” Hades' powerful voice commanded.

Lina saw that Iapis was holding the two-pronged silver spear Hades had carried the day before, and with a sound like a crack of thunder, he banged it against the marble floor. One of the shadows from just outside the arched entryway quivered, and then moved into the Great Hall. Lina watched intently as the spirit approached the dais. She was a middle-aged woman. Lina couldn't see any obvious wounds on her semitransparent form. She was, Lina thought, quite attractive. Her hair was piled in intricate braids atop her head, giving the illusion that she was wearing a crown. She was swathed in layer upon layer of draped fabric that fluttered wispily around her as she glided to a halt at the foot of the dais. She dropped into a deep curtsy, which she held until Hades spoke.

“Stheneboia, you may arise.”

The woman straightened, but as soon as her eyes widened in recognition of Persephone, she fell back into another deep curtsy.

“I am honored by the presence of Demeter's daughter.”

The spirit's breathy voice reminded Lina of a bad Marilyn Monroe impersonator. “Please rise,” Lina said quickly, wondering why she felt such an instant dislike for the spirit.

Stheneboia straightened again. Having paid proper respect to the goddess, she ignored Persephone and focused her large, kohl-ringed eyes on Hades.

“I have come, Great God, to ask that I be allowed to drink of the River Lethe and be reborn to the mortal world.”

Hades studied her carefully. When he spoke, Lina noted that his voice was filled with the confidence and authority of a god, so much so that the fine hairs on her arms tingled and rose in response to his tangible power.

“It is an unusual request you make of me, Stheneboia. You know that the spirits of suicides are rarely allowed to drink of Lethe.”

Lina felt a jolt of shock. The woman had killed herself? Why?

Stheneboia lowered her eyes demurely. “And you know, Great God, that I did not truly mean to die.”

She said the title “Great God” like a verbal caress. Lina felt her jaw set. She was actually flirting with Hades!

The spirit's tone turned pouty. “It was a tragic accident. Must I pay for it for all eternity?”

“What have you learned as you have roamed the banks of Acheron?” Hades asked abruptly.

Stheneboia paused, as if carefully arranging her thoughts. When she spoke her words were a slow purr.

“I have learned that I chose unwisely. I will not do so again, Lord of the Underworld.”

Hades' eyes narrowed and his deep voice was laced with disgust. “Then you have learned little. You lusted after Bellerophon, a youth half your age. When he rejected your desires, you told your husband the lie that he had tried to rape you. Thankfully, Athena thwarted his attempt to have the youth killed. The goddess was wise to give Bellerophon to your youngest sister. She was more deserving.”

“That timid mouse did not deserve Bellerophon!” Stheneboia's sudden rage twisted her attractive features so that her face became hard and cruel.

Hades continued on as if she hadn't spoken. “You did not intend to kill yourself, this I know. You only intended to scare your family and cause them such pain and sorrow that they would reject Athena's matchmaking and send Bellerophon away in disgrace. It was your misfortune that your maid overslept and did not discover you until you had bled beyond saving.”

Stheneboia's eyes slid away from the god's penetrating gaze and she pressed one cool, white hand against her brow as if his words had upset her.

“I will choose more wisely in my next life,” she said breathily.

“Where is your remorse, Stheneboia?” Hades asked in a stone voice. “You tried to command love with lies and seduction. Love can not survive such poison.”

“But you do not understand,” the spirit was beginning to sound desperate. “I wanted him so much. He should have wanted me. I was still beautiful and desirable.”

“Love can not survive such poison,” Hades repeated. “Lust and desire are only a small part of love, but that is another ideal you have yet to learn.” Then he shook his head sadly. “I deny your request, Stheneboia. Instead I command that you return to the banks of Acheron, the River of Woe. Perhaps spending more time there will enable you to open your heart to more than your own selfish desires. Do not ask to come before me until another century has passed.”

Stheneboia's mouth opened in a wordless scream as a great wind rushed into the chamber and swirled around her like a miniature tornado before picking her up and sweeping her from their sight.

Iapis lifted the spear to signal another spirit forward, but Hades' raised hand halted him mid-gesture. The god turned his attention to Lina.

“What do you think of my judgment?” he asked.

“I thought you were wise,” she answered without hesitation. “I don't know the whole story, but from what I heard she did an awful thing, and she certainly wasn't sorry about it. She did make me wonder something, though.”

Hades nodded for her to continue.

“If she drank of Lethe she would forget all of her past life?”

“Yes,” Hades said.

“But would she still be the same type of person? I mean, is it like wiping everything clean, or is there still a residue of the old self left behind?”

“An excellent question,” Hades said with obvious appreciation. “When a spirit drinks of Lethe, memories are wiped completely away and the soul is reborn within an infant's body. But the soul can not help but to retain some elements of personality. Ultimately, the body is just a shell; it is the soul which defines the man or woman, god or goddess.”

“Then that just reinforces the fact that you made a wise decision. Stheneboia would have been reborn to make someone else miserable.”

“She based her life on lies—most of which she told herself about her true nature. It was not riches or luxury for which her soul yearned; it was love. And love cannot exist with lies and deceit,” Hades said.

“You're very insightful about love,” Lina said thoughtfully.

Hades paused before he spoke his next words, and as he paused he felt hope stir once again within him. “I have spent eons studying the souls of the dead, and I have come to understand that love is one emotion that mortals know infinitely better than the gods.”

Lina blinked in surprise. Mortals knew love better than the gods? For a woman who had been divorced and hadn't had a decent date in years, his words came as quite a shock.

“Do you really think so?” she asked incredulously.

Hades felt the flicker of hope falter. “Yes, I know it as truth,” he said with grim finality before he nodded to Iapis, who cracked the spear against the floor again.