And would his promise of punishment turn out to be true?
***
Persephone went to class after leaving the Acropolis. It seemed like everyone had a copy of New Athens News today. That bold, black headline glared back at her on the bus, on her walk across campus, even in class.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder and she twisted to find two girls. She wasn’t sure of their names, but they’d sat behind her since the beginning of the semester and said nothing until today. The girl on the right held a copy of the paper.
“You’re Persephone, right?” One of them asked. “Is everything you wrote true?”
That question made her cringe. Her instinct was to say no. She hadn’t written the story, not in its entirety, but she couldn’t. She settled on saying, “The story is evolving.”
What she didn’t anticipate was the excitement in the girls’ eyes. “So, there will be more?”
Persephone cleared her throat. “Yeah…yes.”
The girl on the left leaned farther over the table. “So, you’ve met Hades?”
“That’s a stupid question,” The other girl chided. “What she wants to know is what’s Hades like? Do you have pictures?”
A strange feeling erupted in Persephone’s stomach—a metallic twist that made her feel both jealous and protective of Hades—ironic, because she had promised to write about him. Still, now that she was posed with these questions, she wasn’t sure she wanted to share her intimate knowledge of the god. Did she want to talk about how she’d caught him playing fetch with his dogs in a grove in the Underworld? Or how he’d amused her by played rock-paper-scissors?
These were…human aspects of the god, and all of a sudden, she felt possessive of them. They were hers.
She offered a small, unamused smile and said, “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”
Demetri had been right—the world was just as curious about the god as they were afraid of him.
The girls in her class weren’t the only people who stopped her to ask about her article. On her way across campus, several other strangers called out to her. She guessed they were testing her name, and once they discovered she was Persephone, they ran up to her to ask the same questions—Did you really meet Hades? What does he look like? Do you have a picture?
She made excuses to get away quickly. If there was one thing she hadn’t anticipated, it was this—the attention she would receive. She couldn’t decide if she liked it or not.
Persephone passed through the Garden of the Gods, when her phone rang.
She answered, “Hello?”
“Adonis told me the good news! A series on Hades! Congrats! When do you interview him next and can I come?” Lexa laughed.
“T-Thanks, Lex,” Persephone managed. After stealing her article, it didn’t surprise her that Adonis had also taken the opportunity to text her friend about her new work assignment before she even got a chance to tell her.
“We should celebrate! La Rose this weekend?” Lexa asked.
Persephone groaned. La Rose was an upscale nightclub owned by Aphrodite. She had never been inside, but she’d seen pictures. Everything was cream and pink and, like Hades’ Nevernight, there was an impossible waitlist.
“How are we supposed to get into La Rose?” Persephone asked.
“I have my ways.” Lexa replied, mischievously. Persephone wondered if those ways included Adonis, and she was about to say that when she caught a flash in the corner of her eye. Whatever Lexa was saying on the other line was lost as her attention moved to her mother who now stood a few feet in front of her.
“Hey, Lex. I’ll call you back,” she said and hung up. She stared at Demeter and acknowledged her with a curt, “Mother. What are you doing here?”
“I had to ensure you were safe after that ridiculous article you wrote. What were you thinking?”
Persephone was shocked. “I thought—I thought you'd be proud. You hate Hades.”
“Proud? You thought I’d be proud?” she scoffed. “You wrote a critical article on a god—but not just any god, Hades! You deliberately broke my rule—not once but multiple times.” When she looked surprised, her mother said, “Oh, yes. I know you have returned to Nevernight on multiple occasions.”
Persephone glared at her mother for a moment, and then asked, “How?”
Demeter’s eyes fell to the phone in her hand. “I tracked you.”
“You tracked my phone?” She knew her mother wasn’t above violating her privacy to keep tabs on her. She’d proven that by having her nymphs spy on her. Still, Demeter hadn’t bought her phone, nor did she pay the bill. She had no right to use it as a GPS. “Are you serious?”