And it was all magic.
Hades had lifetimes to learn his powers, to craft illusions that deceived the senses. Persephone had never known the feel of power in her blood. Did it burn hot like the need Hades ignited within her? Did it feel like last night when she’d boldly straddled him and whispered challenges in his ear as she tasted his skin?
That had been power.
For a moment, she’d controlled him.
She’d seen lust cloud his gaze, heard his growl of passion, felt his hard arousal.
But she’d not been powerful enough to keep him under her spell.
She was beginning to think she would never be powerful enough.
Which is why a mortal life suited her so well—why she could not let Hades win.
Except she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to win when her garden still looked like a scorched piece of Earth. As she came to the end of the path, the lush gardens gave way to a bald patch of earth where the soil was more like sand, and black as ash. It had been a few weeks since she’d planted the seeds in the ground. They should be sprouting by now, even without magic, mortal gardens at least produced that much life. If it had been her mother’s garden, it would already be fully grown. Persephone had harbored a secret hope that through this process, she would discover some dormant power that didn’t involve stealing life, but standing before this barren patch of Earth made her realize how ridiculous that hope was.
She couldn’t just wait around for power to manifest or for mortal seeds to sprout in the Underworld’s impossible soil. She had to do something more. She straightened and went in search of Hecate.
Persephone found the Goddess in a grove near her home. Hecate wore purple robes today, and her long hair was braided and snaked over her shoulder. She sat, cross-legged, in the soft grass petting a furry weasel. Persephone squealed when she saw it.
“What is that?” She demanded.
Hecate smiled softly and scratched the creature behind its small ear. “This is Gale. She is a polecat.”
“That is not a cat,” Persephone argued.
“Polecat,” Hecate said, laughing quietly. “She was once a human witch, but she was an idiot, so I turned her into a polecat.”
Persephone stared at the goddess, but Hecate didn’t seem to notice her stunned silence.
“I like her better this way.”
She looked up at the Goddess of Spring then and asked, “But enough about Gale. What can I help you with, my dear?”
That question was all it took—Persephone erupted, breaking into a seething tangent about Hades, the contract, and her impossible wager, avoiding details about this morning’s disaster. She even admitted her greatest secret—that she could not grow a single thing. When she was finished, Hecate looked thoughtful but not surprised.
“If you cannot give life, what can you do?” she asked.
“Destroy it.”
Hecate’s pretty brows furrowed over her dark eyes.
“You have never grown anything at all?” Hecate asked.
Persephone shook her head, and then met the Goddess’ gaze.
“Show me.”
“Hecate…I don’t think that’s—”
“I’d like to see
Persephone sighed, and turned her hands over. She stared at her palms for a long moment before bending and pressing them to the grass. Where it was green before, it yellowed and withered beneath her touch. When she looked at Hecate, the goddess is staring at her hands.
“I think that is why Hades’ challenged me to create life, because he knew it was impossible.”
Hecate did not look so certain. “Hades does not challenge people with the impossible. He challenges them to embrace their potential.”
“And what is my potential?” She asked.
“To be the Goddess of Spring,” Hecate answered. The polecat hopped off her lap as she got to her feet, brushing off her skirts. She expected the goddess to continue asking questions about her magic, but instead she said thoughtfully, “Gardening is not the only way to create life.”
Persephone looked at the Goddess. “How else should I create life?”
She could tell by the amused look on her face that she wasn’t going to like what Hecate had to say.
“You could have a baby.”
“What?”
“Of course, to fulfill the contract, Hades would have to be the father,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard Persephone. “He would be furious if it were anyone else.”
She decided she was going to ignore that comment. “I’m not having Hades’ child, Hecate.”