The Dark Wife (20 page)

But if you loved a goddess—you would never be reunited. Goddesses never died, never descended to the Underworld. Save one.

She scrubbed at her face with her hands and sat up. “We were a terrible match. I know that. But I would do it all over again, if I had the choice.” She nodded. “I would.”

She rose slowly, began to pace the room. I watched her, worried for her—she had become so transparent, she scarcely seemed real. Sometimes I had to touch her to assure myself that she still had
substance, that
she wasn’t going to disappear.

I felt her pain, and I wanted to comfort her—but what comfort could I offer? I couldn’t bring Athena to her. I couldn’t give her back her life.

Still, I stood
up,
my head dizzy from Hades’ kiss, and held out my arms. She waved me away, scowled.

“Anyway,” she began, but I touched her shoulder, made her pause.

“If this had never happened, if you had never…come here, what would you have done?”

The question seemed to surprise her. “What do you mean?”

“You and Athena—what were your plans before…”

“Before it all fell apart,” she whispered, sighing. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I wanted to marry her.”

“Marry her?” I blinked, curious, and she laughed.

“You don’t know what marriage is?”

I shook my head. “I was sheltered, in my forest.”

“Ah, yes. Well, it’s something mortals do… It’s a dedication, a lifelong one. Before the gods and their families, couples dedicate themselves to one another.

“Sometimes people marry for reasons other than love: a man desiring a wife might exchange money with her father, and she would bear strapping sons for the wars. But in the beginning, it was simple, beautiful, a vow of love before the gods.”

She chewed her bottom lip. “I obsessed over it. It was what I wanted, more than anything.” Sighing, she kicked her sandal against the floor and scoffed. “But it was absurd, a stupid idea. The ritual was for mortals, and with Athena being a goddess, what would we have done?”

Her head hung low from her shoulders. “I didn’t care about the details then. I just…I wanted to be her wife.”

“Pallas…” I rested my hand on her arm. “Pallas, it’s not absurd or stupid. It’s a
beautiful
idea.”

“Well,” she said, detaching me from her elbow, “it never came to anything, so it doesn’t matter either way.”

I followed her out of my room, down one long hall, and then another. “Did Athena know?” I called after her. She shook her head as she walked.

No, she hadn’t known. Athena hadn’t known what Pallas intended, or—I could only guess—how deeply Pallas loved her. And now she sat on Olympus, another mortal girl in the circle of her arms, Pallas forgotten.

It could never be fixed.

I felt the pain of it as if it were my own.
If I were separated from Hades, worlds apart, forever, I…
I couldn’t even think of it.

“I’m expecting a visitor today, one I thought you might like to see, as well,” Pallas said, smiling faintly at me over her shoulder as we passed through the main corridor and descended the front steps of the palace. “Care to join me?”

“Always,” I called after her, running to keep pace. I slipped my hand through her arm, and together we began the slow, tedious trek across the Underworld plains.

“I thought no one came to the Underworld besides the dead,” I whispered. “Who is this guest of yours?”

We moved among the outlying cave dwellings of the village. A young girl stood in a doorway, grasping a tiny doll sculpted of earth. Her eyes followed me, and my heart was racked with pity. These souls had little, perhaps nothing, to look forward to, or hope for.

“You forget who guides the dead down to the Underworld,” Pallas reminded me.

“Hermes!” I gasped. “When will he be here? He won’t cross over with
Charon
, will he?” I remembered
Gaea’s
admonishments, written in the water, and worried for my friend.

Pallas shook her head at me.
“No, no, of course not.
He flies like a bird with those sandals of his, and, anyway, he’s the one who taught me the string-and-boat trick. Perhaps he invented it. He
is
the god of tricksters.”

I nodded and exhaled, relieved.

“What’s gotten into you, Persephone?”

“Oh…” I sighed. “Hades took me to see Gaea, and Gaea warned me to be careful. She mentioned
Charon
, specifically.”

“
Charon
?”
Pallas seemed shocked at first, and then thoughtful. She remained silent for several long minutes, as we hurried through the village. Souls stared at us, glared, sometimes hissed, their whispers steeped in animosity.

Finally, when we were free of the village, Pallas dropped her voice, asked, “Did Gaea say why you should be careful of
Charon
?”

“No. But he hates me. I assumed it had something to do with that.”

Pallas sighed. “Did Hades ever tell you the story of how
Charon
came to be?”

I shook my head, and we walked toward the river.

“Hades made him.”

My heart dropped within me. “How… Why? Why would she?”

She folded her arms, as if chilled. “Gods—some of them—can create life, people and creatures, monsters.”

I remembered the naïve conviction of my childhood that my mother had created me, grown me from a seed, like one of her flowers. But then she told me about Zeus, told me she wasn’t powerful enough to make immortal life by herself.

But Hades was. Hades was more powerful than I’d ever guessed.

“
Charon
was the first, and only, creature Hades ever made. She was overwhelmed with all of her duties here; she needed help, and of course no god would volunteer to live and work in the Underworld with her.

“So she made
Charon
. He was supposed to be a man, a simple ferryman. But…something went wrong.” Pallas frowned. “He was malformed, of body and mind. Hades felt terrible. But
Charon
was determined.” Pallas turned to me with a sardonic smile. “He still wanted the job. He wanted to ferry souls across the Styx. It was what he was created for; before
Charon
, Hades brought the souls to the Underworld herself, and it consumed all of her time.”

My head felt too full of shock and wonderment; there was no room left for forming thoughts. We walked in silence for a moment.

“I think he hates Hades for creating him,” Pallas whispered. We were near the river now, and she cast her eyes about, as if worried that
Charon
might be hiding somewhere, listening.

Pallas groaned. “Honestly, I just wish something would happen to tip the balance. It’s becoming too much to bear—the constant whispering, the accusations, the misguided hostility.”

“Perhaps it’s time to tell Hades,” I sighed. “She knows the people are unhappy, but she’s so busy, and she thinks the best of…everyone.” My shoulders rose, fell. “She can’t see it, and won’t, until it’s too late.”

 Pallas pushed her hands through her hair. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t understand why nothing I say to them sinks in. The dead used to be reasonable, and content with what they had, as little as it is… The mutterings only began a few months ago.

“Persephone,” she whispered, stopping before me, speaking in such a low tone that I had to read her lips, “I think
Charon
is to blame for this. What you’ve told me today confirms it for me.”

I twisted my hands, said nothing. The structure of the Underworld seemed to falling apart, and I felt helpless to do anything to stop it.

A flickering figure, a gathering of silver and blue light, appeared at the edge of the Styx, waiting for us. Pallas and I ran toward him, and he zipped through the air, closed the distance between us by half.

“Hello, most lovely of ladies.” He bowed to me, then swept Pallas from her feet, embraced her in a theatrical hug. She played along, making flourishes with her hands and pretending to wipe away tears.

“He’s too snobbish to come any further into the Underworld,” she laughed, pointing to his perch on the rocky bank of the river.

“Not snobbish, just cautious.” He surveyed the vastness of black behind us. “Remember, I led all of those souls down here. I’d rather not be recognized…especially now.”

“Can you feel it?” asked Pallas, worry wrinkling her brow.

Hermes shrugged, shifted,
hazed
out of sight. And then he appeared behind me and leaned his tousled head upon my shoulder.

“Something is brewing,” he said, lifting his chin, “but that’s not why I’m here. Zeus has been telling stories again, and they’re not pretty.”

“What about?”
Pallas regarded him with her hands on her hips, mouth set in a firm line.
“Hades?”

“His favorite subject.”
Hermes’ eyes darted between Pallas and me. Suddenly, he was kneeling at my feet and holding my hand. “Persephone, have you given any more thought to your personal rebellion?”

I tilted my head at him. “I have rebelled. That’s why I’m here—”

“There’s more to it than that.” He shook his head slowly. “You spoke with Gaea?”

“How did you—”

He tapped his head, and I remembered his trick at reading thoughts. But then he flickered and was gone, and I turned to find him standing beside Pallas, though his eyes bored through me. “Did you speak with her?” he persisted.

“Yes.” I balled my hands into fists.
It’s beginning
, I thought.

“And what did she tell you?”

“You are destined for heartache, but also triumph. You will endure such sorrow, but you will transform the world.”

I wrapped my arms around myself—aching for Hades’ embrace. I stared across the Styx and held my tongue. I didn’t know what
Gaea’s
words meant, what anything meant, and part of me didn’t want to know, didn’t want anything to change.
Because I was happy now, so happy.

“She blessed me,” I whispered. “She told me that she loved me.”

“And was that all, Persephone?” Hermes’ gaze was intense; I looked away. I did not answer and did not lie.

Finally he sighed, frustrated. “You were meant for greatness, Persephone. Choose your path wisely.”

I turned my back to him.

“Any news of Athena?”
Pallas whispered, and Hermes regaled her with anecdotes of the goddess of wisdom, the clever words she’d spoken, and tender words, too. When Hermes told Pallas that Athena missed her, I abandoned my sulking and faced him again, narrowed my eyes.

Did Hermes lie, make things up? He enjoyed tricks, I knew. But his affection for Pallas wasn’t an act, and I was certain, if he lied, he did it only to preserve her peace of mind, and her beautiful smile. Perhaps I would have lied, too, if confronted with Pallas’ hopeful eyes.

She thanked him, hugged him and then strolled by herself down the length of the riverbank.