My Lord Hades (2 page)

“I make no empty boast, but a promise. Free me, give me sovereignty over one of your kingdoms and a daughter to seal our alliance, and I’ll bring defeat upon your enemy by the end of the week.”

Zeus grinned, laying a restraining hand upon his brother’s arm. “It’s a deal.”

“Swear by the River Styx,” Hades said, leaning forward, uncaring of the pottery slicing his feed.

“Zeus,” the dark god warned.

Zeus shushed him. “I swear by the River Styx, if you defeat the Titans within the week, I will grant you a kingdom and one of my daughters to seal our alliance.”

Zeus reached towards the chains, and Hades sighed with relief as power surged from his

liberator’s fingers. The air warmed, burning into Hades flesh. The locks clicked and fell away.

His legs, unused to the weight of his body, buckled.

Hades fell upon the blood soaked stones and broken pottery, slicing his knees and hands. The first fiery ripples of pure, unadulterated power tingled along his skin. Oh, how he’d missed its seductive sweetness.

“I’m not carrying him out of here.”

“Shut up, Poseidon. I lost nothing by freeing him. If he can’t do as he says, he gets nothing but his freedom for as long as he can keep it!”

Released from the floodgates, magic crashed over him like a roaring deluge of water. It

coursed through his battered body. It stole the breath from his lungs. It surged through his veins.

It permeated every cell in his emaciated body. And it seared away the last vestiges of Coronus’

enchantment.

He threw back his head, opening his arms to the power, to the centuries of magic denied him by Coronus, and screamed.

The pain was worse than anything the Titans had ever devised. It was every second of his

imprisonment compressed into one moment. It was the beatings, the knives slicing deep into his flesh, and the swords sheathed in his body. It was falling from the cliffs of Mount Othyrs and shattering every bone in his body. Crushing. Rendering. Splintering who was he was into

millions of pieces.

And then it ended, and the absence of pain was worse. He felt nothing. He sensed nothing.

He cared for nothing.

He staggered, teetering on the edge of the cliff, staring down into the dark abyss of his own mind. It would be so easy to pitch himself into the peace of oblivion, to lose himself within his mind. He was spiraling into madness. It would have been so easy to just let go and allow nature take its course. But he’d been conditioned to fight, to survive at all costs.

He needed a focus, a minor interruption. Because if he couldn’t bring his will to bear upon power coursing unchecked through his body, he would be lost. Control the power or go insane.

He screamed his defiance.

I am stronger!

I am more powerful!

I won’t let Coronus win!

He jerked his hand across a pottery shard. White hot pain seared across his palm and bright red blood splashed upon the floor. He focused his all upon the sensations. But it wasn’t enough.

Through blurred vision, he forced his hand to rise, and dug his fingers into the wounded

flesh. Severe pain brought him back from the edge of insanity. His mind veered away from the metaphysical absence of feeling and grasped upon the physical pain, clutching it tight. He directed his attention to the tingling flesh and raw nerve endings that was his body, and used all his self-discipline and self-control to still the rampant magic.

By sheer strength of will, he relaxed, seized the magic by the throat, and confronted the raging fire of extreme passion. Fury. Love. Hatred. Sorrow. Need. He promised them their

chance at freedom and then thrust the intense emotions of a Phlegethon daemon denied his

pleasures into the deepest place of his heart.

He was the only master of his battered and wounded body!

Enclosing the magic tightly in a cocoon of power, he opened his eyes and rose to his feet. He felt alive, complete, and healed for the first time in over a thousand years.

He glanced at the two stunned gods and grinned. “Who do I serve?”

Uncomfortable fear shone in Zeus’ eyes. He’d seen it in the eyes of others who had good

reason to fear him. A healthy fear could only benefit Zeus for Hades was starting to suspect that neither god knew who they’d released.

Zeus swallowed hard, raised his trembling hand, and attempted to smile. “I’m Zeus, King of the Olympians. This is my brother Poseidon. What exactly are you?”

Hades laughed. Not who, but what. “She didn’t tell you?”

Zeus shook his head. Poseidon glared at his brother.

The foolish god hadn’t even thought to ask Eris. If it wasn’t so sad, it might have been funny.

“Isn’t it just like her to leave out certain details?”

Drawing upon his inner power, Hades let his magic swirl around him, embracing him like a

gentle lover, before he sent the awesome potency of his magic outward to stroke along the edges of the two men’s auras. Zeus started, eyes wide.

Opening his arms wide, a gesture that was completely unnecessary, but dramatically

satisfying in its effect, Hades threw wide the doors of Tartarus. He released the horrors from their deepest pits, all the monsters, mortal and immortal. “I’m Hades, son of the goddess Eris.”

Zeus’ eyes shifted to the dangling chains. Hades could almost see the thoughts tumbling

around in Zeus’ mind. He was wondering if Eris had tricked him. Hades knew she had.

“You’re on our side, aren’t you?” The uncertainty in Zeus’ voice brought a smile to Hades’

lips.

“You keep your word, son of Coronus, and we won’t have a problem. Break it, and Tartarus

will seem like Paradise in comparison.”

Hades drew in his magic tight to his aura, and then brought it closer. Only if someone

touched his skin would they understand the truth of the man. It was one of many tricks his mother had taught him.

He winked at the two cowering gods. “See you later.”

PERSEPHONE LIFTED her face to the gentle kiss of rose petals fluttering around her in a

myriad of colors. Reds, pinks, yellows, whites. The silky caress of the petals against her skin was heavenly as they floated to the ground.

Persephone opened her arms wide to the night sky and twirled. The stars seemed to dance

with her. The sky above her burst into color. She laughed, shaking her head, and delicate petals tumbled from her hair.

“It’s time,” a woman’s voice said.

Warmth surged across her skin. A tickle of memory as the presence at her back enclosed her in a cocoon of affection and love unlike anything she’d felt before. “I love you, Persephone,” a deep voice whispered close to her ear.

She turned into the embrace…

The sudden chirp of birds bursting into song outside her window snatched Persephone from

her strange dream. She stirred beneath the sheets, enjoying the silky texture against her flesh. Her skin smoldered with a need she could not understand. She only knew she wanted…what?

Rose petals to fall from the sky? Love from a phantom?

She groaned, burying her head in the pillow. It was frustrating to awaken each morning with sensations one didn’t understand, let alone know how to satisfy. And though she would like nothing more than to blame the nymphs for her predicament, she knew her dreams weren’t

entirely the nymphs’ fault. She was a romantic at heart, treasuring the stories they told her of lovers, magic, and heroes. Truthfully, she was irritated more by the feeling that something vital was missing from her life and she’d know just what that was if she could remember.

Throwing back the blanket, she crawled from the bed and allowed the chilly morning breeze to cool her heated flesh. Usually this was her favorite time of the day, the brief period of time when her thoughts lingered in her dreams. Only she didn’t want to linger today. She wanted. . .

she wanted the perfect love spoken of by the nymphs! A love she couldn’t quite grasp, but craved all the same.

She opened her wardrobe and stared at the selection of dresses. There were several white

ones, a pale yellow one, a peach one with small pink flowers embroidered on it, several shades of pinks, a soft sea green, a few creams, and a light blue.

She sighed. She hated pastels. She wanted a dress the color of violets, or ocean blue, or maybe deep red roses.

Roses. She could not help smiling at the thought of rose petals falling from the sky like rain.

The unexpectedness of it would break the monotony of her days.

Grabbing a dress of creamy white, she slipped out of her light shift and wrapped the cloth around her body, fastening the shoulders with golden butterfly broaches, and twining a golden cord under her breasts and wrapping it down her narrow waist to her hips, tying it into an elaborate knot.

Satisfied, she exited her room, forcing the images of her dream from her mind. There was a multitude of tasks ahead of her today. She needed to check on the row of daffodils she’d planted last week. The carnations and daisies would need watering. The wood nymphs wanted to teach her a new song, so she would take a break from her tasks before lunch to learn it. It was easier sneaking away to the grove when her mother remained in the small villa.

After lunch, she’d try again to coax the old apple tree to bloom, though without magic she didn’t know if it would do any good. Then she’d gather some vegetables and fruits from the garden to compliment the ambrosia they would have for dinner. She didn’t expect her mother to eat it, but she wished for a change. After dinner, she would spend the time with her mother sewing or knitting as they discussed the day’s activities.

She sighed. Her life was boring, predictable. And it wasn’t really her.

Demeter set a pitcher of fresh water upon the table, looking up as Persephone entered the kitchen, a full grin on her beautiful face. “Good morning, Persephone.”

She brushed her hands on the skirt of her dress and pushed back a stray lock of her corn

yellow hair, before hugging her daughter.

Persephone returned the hug, cringing inside, her skin pricking with the force of her mother’s magic. She might not have the ability to wield magic, but she could feel it crawling over her skin, burrowing deep inside, until she could see the inner person.

Her mother was old; far older than the thirty years she appeared to be and she had many

secrets. Sorrowful, shameful secrets hidden in the darkness.

Persephone was the first to break contact. “Morning, Mother.”

Demeter lifted the knife from the table and quickly sliced through the crisp skin of an apple.

“Breakfast will be but a moment.”

Persephone looked over at the counter, seeing the basket of fruit and sighed. Nothing every changed. She was tired of fruit.

Before she could take her seat at the table, someone rapped sharply on the door. She knew instantly who would be there. Only Aunt Hestia visited the villa.

Persephone opened the door and smiled at stout five-foot three-inch Aunt Hestia waiting

patiently on the stoop. Her curly brunette locks falling in waves over her wide shoulders and a broad grin on her lovely face. “Hello, dear one, I brought you a gift for your garden.” She held out her hand and presented two azure butterflies with sparkly diamonds flashing in their wings.

“Oh!” Persephone hugged the shorter goddess. She took the magnificent butterflies from her Aunt’s hand and stepped back into the kitchen. “Thank you, Aunt Hestia! They’re beautiful!”

The butterfly on Persephone’s hand took flight, fluttering around the room, a series of prisms flashed on the creamy plaster of the house’s walls as the sunlight reflected off its wings. It landed on the flowers in the vase.

“Where did you find them?” Persephone breathed, awed by the majestic creatures.

Hestia laughed; a hearty, joyful sound from deep within her gut. “I created them.” Her radiant smile lit her face, a becoming glow of pride. “I thought they would be a perfect addition to your garden. I remembered you like jewels-”

“Hestia,” Demeter interrupted, gliding toward them. “It’s good to see you.”

Persephone frowned. Her mother was doing it again. Every time Aunt Hestia let something

slip Demeter interrupted. Maybe these small tidbits could shake loose a memory and crack open the shell around her life. Maybe she could remember more than last three years of her life.

Hestia looked away from Demeter, the frown smoothing away. “This one is male and the

other is female. Soon you’ll have a garden full.”

Persephone forced a smile to her lips although she wanted to cry, or rant and rave, or scream her frustration. She hated when they treated her as if she was a child. She hated it when they flaunted their use of magic knowing that she didn’t have any.

“What are their names?” Persephone asked.

Hestia shrugged. “They belong to you.”

She stared at the butterflies, deciding upon the two names she liked. “She’ll be Jewel. And he’ll be Enchantment.”

Demeter winced but didn’t protest.

“You’re going to be late, Demeter,” Hestia said.

Persephone turned to her mother. “Where are you going?”

Demeter lifted her dark jade cloak from the stool beside the door and settled it around her shoulders. “To Mount Olympus. I’ve business to discuss with the other gods.”

“If an informal gathering can be considered business?”

“It’s business for me, Hestia. I don’t enjoy going.”

“You use to,” Hestia reminded her sister, looking pointedly at Persephone.

“That was a long, long time ago before—I don’t enjoy them anymore, Hestia.”

“Then why do you go?”

“I need to know how the war is going. If the Titans win,” she glanced at Persephone and

shuddered, “we’ll find another place to go.”

Persephone pretended to lose interest in the conversation. She had learned a long time ago that Demeter never spoke of such things in her hearing. As long as she pretended to be

completely captivated by her butterflies, her mother would continue to speak.