Perhaps the greater issue at hand is that the public is very much aware of these transgressions yet continues to elevate a god who should instead be held accountable for his actions.
Apollo is an abuser—he has a need to control and dominate. It’s not about communication or listening; it’s about winning. Is this who we really want representing New Greece?
Hades read the article once more, his fingers curling into the paper. All he could think was that she’d promised not to write about Apollo. Except that he knew she’d never actually promised.
“Trust me on this, Persephone. ”
“I trust you,” she’d said.
But she didn’t, or at least if she did, she’d disregarded his warning. Was this her way of seeking revenge because of Leuce? The irony was, she had no idea why he’d turned the nymph into a tree or that it had been because of Apollo.
“If that makes you angry, you won’t want to see what else is in the news today.”
The satyr was likely right, but Hades wanted to know anyway. He had a feeling it had everything to do with Persephone.
Ilias pulled out his phone to show Hades a video. It was a news report from earlier, and a red banner at the bottom of the screen drew his eye.
HADES’S LOVER ATTACKS BELOVED GOD
He grimaced, his anger growing the longer the reporter talked about Persephone as if they did not fear his retaliation.
“Guess she didn’t gain enough fame by sleeping with Hades. She had to go after Apollo too?” the reporter said.
Those words went right through him, and he pushed the phone back toward Ilias. After a moment of silence, he asked, “Is she safe?”
“She made it to work,” he replied.
He didn’t like that he’d had to ask that question, did not like that Ilias had to qualify his answer, knowing that she’d now have to make it home.
“If she’d known this would be the response, I doubt she’d have done this,” Ilias said.
“She knew,” Hades said curtly. “I warned her.”
Ilias did not respond, though Hades could tell the satyr was holding back.
“What is it?” he snapped.
Ilias shrugged. “I don’t know. I just think she probably thought you were being overprotective.”
Hades bristled at those words.
Overprotective.
It almost made him sound controlling, and he hated that.
“You can’t tell me who to write about, Hades,” she’d said, and while he’d have liked for her to have been able to write about anyone and anything she wished, the reality was, it wasn’t possible without fallout. She was about to learn the hard way.
“When it comes to Apollo, there is no such thing,” Hades replied.
Ilias did not disagree. “He will hunt her.”
Hades did not need to be told. He knew what the god was capable of.
He’d pursue Persephone until she paid for her alleged slander, but Hades wasn’t willing to lose another love to the God of Music.
“That’s not all I have for you,” Ilias said. “This came pinned to the newspaper.”
Ilias handed him a piece of white parchment. The top of the page was embossed with a gold peacock. Beneath the icon was printed From the desk of Hera, Goddess of Marriage and below that was a handwritten message.
I see your lover has caused quite a stir. With your allies growing fewer and fewer among the Olympians, it will be no easy task to convince Zeus to agree to your hopeful matrimony.
It was as much a threat as it was a reminder of the labors Hera had sentenced Hades to. He knew he was running out of time. He would have to kill Briareus soon.
Hades crushed the note in his palm and set it ablaze with black flame. It curled into solid ashes that dissipated into a fine dust, leaving behind a sharp, clean smell and pale-white smoke.
“Anything else?” Hades asked.
“I think that’s enough for today, don’t you?”
Hades rose from his chair, drained his glass, and left the club.
*
Hades waited for Persephone in the darkness of her room. He wondered if she had dreaded this encounter. Had the thought of facing him invaded every part of her day? While he would have preferred to occupy her thoughts for a different reason, she had to know he was coming for her, yet she did not hesitate as she entered her room, did not pause to scan the area for signs of his presence. She walked straight to her bedside table, turned on the light, and stepped into the bathroom. She turned on the faucet and returned to her room, arms tangled behind her back as she managed to unzip her dress.