Persephone's Orchard (The Chrysomelia Stories) (30 page)

Setting down her phone, she engaged Melissa in a conversation about the horrible music choices of some of the people in their dorm—generally the ones with the loudest speakers. Then, sleepy after all that hiking up and down San Francisco’s steep hills, she changed into pajamas and got into bed.

From her pillow she sent Adrian a text:
Just felt like saying goodnight again. So, goodnight. :)

He answered in under a minute.
Goodnight, beautiful.

Smiling, she closed her eyes and reached for Persephone’s memories.

P
ERSEPHONE’S DREAMS UNFOLDED,
awakening her mind to lifetimes of other experiences.

“It’s strange, but—well, enlightening, to use your word,” she told Hades. She packed soil around the young apple tree she was transplanting into the Underworld. “Water, please.”

Hades hefted the clay jug, filled from the underground river, and tilted it to water the soil. “Gives you an insight into other people and places that no amount of traveling or study could.”

“I feel I’ve aged fifty years. A
hundred
and fifty. Suddenly I know what it’s like to have done all these things I’ve never done—lie with people, give birth, see my children married. Die.” She spoke the last word softly, brushing wet soil off one of the leaves.

“I know. I can hardly treat you as an innocent anymore.”

He sounded rueful, and she looked up at him. “Is that a bad thing?”

He set down the jug, clearing his throat. “Children and youths are charming when they’re innocent. But I suppose it’s better that I don’t have to worry
too
much about damaging you.”

Demeter, of course, was quite ready to place the blame at his door. The next day she found Persephone beside the hearth, wiping away tears while laying out herbs for drying. “It isn’t onions you’re working with,” said Demeter, “so no tears are warranted. Who’s the scoundrel and what’s he done to you?”

Persephone laughed, rubbing her eyes. “It’s nothing like that. I was…thinking of something I’d heard lately, about a young mother who died.”

In truth it was one of her own memories, three or four lives ago. The death of her mother in a terrifying raid by an invading tribe, in some land she couldn’t even name, had shaken her out of her mid-day nap, and still haunted her.

Demeter studied her. Persephone kept her gaze lowered, smoothing out mint cuttings. “Did Hades feed you one of his pomegranates?” Demeter’s voice was cool and hard.

Persephone laid down the handful of dill she held. “No. I stole one and ate it. He didn’t want me to.”

Demeter exhaled a furious breath and began pacing.

“Mother,” Persephone entreated. “If you would only try it, you’d see it’s marvelous, amazing—”

“So marvelous it leaves you weeping over the herbs by yourself? Yes, it sounds wonderful.”

“Some of the memories are sad of course, but on the whole it’s fantastic. The languages I know now—the new ways to prepare food—” She grabbed two of the herbs and held them up as if this would change her mother’s mind. “Look, I’m going to try something new tonight with the lamb. You’ll see.”

Demeter shot her a look. “You realize this doesn’t make you immortal. You’re still every bit as vulnerable as before.”

“Yes. But worlds smarter.”

“Worlds more
tempted
, I would think.”

Persephone set aside the handful of herbs. “Stop worrying. Just wait till you taste this lamb.”

But Demeter had a valid point. Those “lying with people” memories fired up Persephone’s mind and body rather too thoroughly. Being trained in healing, she already knew how the basic process worked. But she remained a virgin, having only been kissed, and then not seriously—unless Hermes had naughtier motives when kissing her in greeting or farewell, which indeed he might, from what she heard of him. Still, it wasn’t Hermes, but her latest friend and tutor in the Underworld, whom she kissed and touched in her imagination.

Did that remark about not viewing her as innocent anymore mean he thought of her the same way? The idea made her blood spread hot through her. Of course he wouldn’t dare—a mortal girl; it was too dangerous. There could be no serious future in it. But perhaps a dalliance, some playing around…? Gods above, her mother would lock her up if she knew about such thoughts.

Persephone resolved to behave as long as she could stand it. Truly it
would
be healthier to get over her crush on Hades and maybe, someday, marry someone else and have that man’s children…but the idea only made her dreadfully sad.

H
ADES KNEW HE
loved Persephone within a month of her theft of the pomegranate. It was exactly as she said: now that she had eaten the Underworld’s fruit, she possessed the wisdom and experience of several lifetimes. She had been Tanis, and many other people besides. Accordingly, he let himself stop viewing her as an oblivious virgin, even if technically she hadn’t lain with anyone in this life.

Being around her now was nine parts bliss and one part torment. And he wanted it to last as long as possible. In the chariot or when switching realms, she pressed her body so close against him. She felt warm and sweetly curved, and smelled delicious, like an apple ripe for plucking. Every day, more and more, he longed to touch her, arouse her, pin her to the ground beneath him.

But of course he couldn’t say, or do, a thing about it.

At the end of her visit one day, as they flew back to her house, something in the fading twilight and the ocean scent from downriver made him think of his sea journey with Tanis. As the chariot descended to the ground, he finally said, “If Tanis had survived and come back, and had been willing to stay…well, I know it never ends well, a mortal woman and a man of my kind, but I think I would have tried all the same. I was quite fond of her. I thought you…she…should know.”

Perhaps it was only the jolt of the chariot landing that made Persephone lean against him. But she answered, “She would have been pleased. She felt the same about you.”

Hades eased the ghost horses to a stop, and climbed out to tie the reins to a tree.

When he lifted Persephone down from the chariot, she lingered with her hands on his shoulders. They gazed at each other. “You know, she
has
come back to you,” Persephone said.

“I’m glad of it.” But he could never ruin Persephone’s life. So he let go of her and looked away, chuckling as if the whole thing were amusing. “I was much younger then, of course. More foolish.”

“Are you truly fifty-three now,” she challenged, in the playful tone he already knew well, “or are you the sum of all the years you’ve lived in all your lives, since you can remember them all and benefit from their wisdom?”

“If the latter is the case, then I’m quite ancient indeed.”

“And in that case so am I.”

Yes
, he thought.
But still mortal.
With great effort, he smiled calmly at her as if romance had never entered his thoughts, and pulled her back into the living world where she belonged.

When he returned to his chariot alone a short time later, he leaned against it with a gust of a sigh, thinking,
Just what I need. To be in love at last, and for it to be someone I cannot be with.

P
ERSEPHONE KEPT VISITING
Hades, trying to learn about plants and languages rather than dwelling on the charms of her immortal friend. The botanical experimentation continued, Persephone bringing down saplings and seeds to grow in the cave’s magical soil, to see what resulted. Hades tested the flowers and fruits himself before letting her near them. If they caused his tongue or skin any burning sensation, the plant was relegated to non-edible status, and they looked for other uses for it. If they didn’t harm him, Persephone placed a small amount on her skin as a first test, then held some in her mouth if that went well, then swallowed a tiny amount if no ill effects occurred.

The testing worked on the whole: she only got sick from the plants a couple of times, and one time was at least interesting. Along with developing a fever, she saw the world in far brighter than usual colors while lying dizzy on the ground. Hades, however, was deeply alarmed by her illness, and didn’t let her eat any new Underworld plants for nearly a month after that.

One variety of olive made her able to command dogs by using yips and growls she suddenly knew by instinct—which made both Hades and her laugh helplessly. The ability wore off after a day, though.

Some of the fruits seemed to speed healing, but not to the cure-all levels she dreamed of discovering.

And what if she found a plant that would let a mortal woman safely carry a child to term when the father was immortal? Well, that would be hardest and most dangerous to test, but she could dream. She kept raising new plants, never giving up hope.

Plants did grow faster than usual in the Underworld, but months or more still elapsed before most of them were mature enough to bear fruit. So while Persephone and Hades waited for the orchard to produce its next marvel, they spoke to the souls, using the answers and their own memories to expand another of their projects: mapping the world.

Choosing a large, mostly-flat wall of light brown limestone in the cave, Persephone painted the shape of Greece and the surrounding Mediterranean as they knew it, in dark blue paint that dried purple. The sea was as long as her arm, its southern edge at the height of her waist. “Up here, the north countries.” She dabbed in a swath of land for the mountains and the cold plains. “Off east, the Himalayas, and India and Asia somewhere beyond that. To the south, we know, is Africa…but how far does the land go?”

“Quite some way, to judge from what the souls have said. I remember living down there and making the journey as a soul myself, but I’m not sure where I was.” Hades circled his palm toward the southeastern side. “Pretty sure there’s another sea here. Hotter and sunnier.”

“What I want to know is what’s beyond
this
sea.” Persephone sketched in the strait that led from the Mediterranean out to the great western ocean, and let the waters trail away in a few vague waves of blue paint. “Some of the souls speak of flying all night across it when they come here. But then, some say they come
west
across such an ocean, and that’s what I don’t understand.”

“Yes. Souls like these people.” Hades gestured to a small group of souls watching them curiously, men and women with straight black hair, brown skin, and clothing made of animal skins that didn’t quite match any animal they had seen in the Mediterranean region. “It seems obvious,” he added, “that the living world is bigger by far than we’ve all guessed.”

“Agreed.” Persephone studied the map. “Some of the lands I’m remembering from past lives, well, they’re like nothing I’ve seen or imagined before. But they’re out there somewhere.”

“Hermes took one of the horses last month and flew west as far as he dared, but even he lost his nerve after seeing nothing but ocean for so long. He turned around and let the horse take him home.”

Persephone slid the brush back into the jar of paint. “Then let’s try it ourselves.”

“Absolutely
not
.”

“Oh, come on, we have to get out of the cave sometimes. And you’re a much safer horseman than Hermes.”

He fidgeted, glowering at the map. “We can try going some of these places. But not all the way across the great ocean.”

Persephone beamed, for in truth she had got what she wanted: to travel with him, even if only for day trips.

As that first winter turned to spring, and then into summer, they took their secret chariot journeys—south across the sea to the hot sands of Africa, east to the feet of the giant cold mountains, north over dark forests to the seashore where white cliffs rose on the island opposite them. They risked switching into the human realm on most visits, and sometimes even got lucky and found they spoke the local language, or some older version of it, thanks to their past lives. Touching those exotic trees and stones, walking among people who viewed Hades and her as astonishingly outlandish in their lightweight Greek tunics and fine Underworld jewels, and breathing the spices and smokes of other lands—it all enchanted Persephone. Only her first visit to the Underworld rivaled the thrill she felt at setting foot in faraway countries.

Best of all was being with Hades. She held his arm to ease the stress on her weak leg as they walked, and cuddled in his protective embrace as he flew the horses high up to mountaintops, the evening star sparkling and the world spread out like a perfect map below them.

Demeter knew nothing of their visiting other countries, but Persephone’s growing preoccupation didn’t escape her notice.

Persephone felt no surprise, only a dismayed sense of inevitability, when her mother brought up the topic again, shortly after Persephone had returned from an outing with him.

“I sensed you northward today,” Demeter said, in the middle of their quiet dinner. “I thought you were with Hades. Where were you?”