Read That Fatal Kiss Online

Authors: Mina Lobo

That Fatal Kiss (7 page)

He laughed at himself. He could not make her love him, could not make her fear him. If all he could manage was the claiming of his marital rights then, by the Fates, claim them he would.

But could he ever forget that there had been others?

Hades drained his cup and poured himself another draught. “You may have given yourself to others, Persephone, but I will make you irrevocably
mine
.”

VII.

Hephaestus and Aphrodite’s Residence, Mount Olympus

 

“WHAT AM I
to do?” worried the little Lame God aloud. He’d just returned from the impromptu meeting with his uncle, Hades.

“Not that it was an actual meeting of the minds,” he said to himself bitterly. “He just summons me and expects me to answer, as though I were one of his minions, at his beck and call, and not an immortal god.”

Though he knew that the other gods ridiculed him behind his back, to his face, at least, they made some show of respecting him and his work. Not so Hades. He merely crooked his finger, barked out orders, and expected to be obeyed. And, if it had been any other Immortal, Hephaestus might have risked displeasure by refusing to do the work. But with Hades, he did not dare. For one thing, Hades and Zeus had a strange relationship which, for the most part, involved mutual antipathy. They would, however, unite immediately at the presence of a threat against either of them. Oh yes, the bonds they shared, fraught with tension though they were, were stronger than anything Hephaestus could forge. And, of course, Hades was a mighty force to be reckoned with in his own right. It would not do to try his limited patience.

Hades’ imperious demands aside, Hephaestus faced a larger dilemma: how could he just let Persephone remain in Erebus without sounding an alarm? She was such a kind girl and, unlike the others, she showed him no scorn or derision, but treated him as her equal. Yes, she was fragile, vulnerable; how could he just let Hades keep her there? And how could he help Hades bed her? The very thought made his stomach turn. But there was no refusing the King of the Dead.

He desperately wished he could ask Athena for her advice but Hades had demanded secrecy. In any event, the Wise Goddess probably despised him after he… Hephaestus blanched at the memory. He could not blame her if she bore him ill will. Where could he turn?

“Where have you been?” asked a shrill voice.

Hephaestus started. It was Aphrodite, putting in an appearance at the worst possible moment. As usual. He turned to the Goddess of Love, unable to keep a furtive look from his lined face.

The goddess raised one honey-colored brow sharply. “Why do you have that ridiculous look on your face?”

The Lame God wrung his hands as he tried to think of a plausible lie.

“And don’t even think of lying to me,” she added, with that uncanny knack for knowing just what he was thinking at any given moment. She sat down in a chair covered with glorious swan feathers and eyed him menacingly, holding her temple in her hands. “I’m not having a very good day and I’m in no mood for nonsense.”

He saw a way out of answering his wife, but dreaded the no doubt lengthy explanation that would be forthcoming. Hephaestus squared his shoulders and asked, in what he hoped seemed a sympathetic tone, “What is troubling you, my beloved?”

“It’s that ninny, Psyche. I swear, what my son sees in that insipid little milk-sop, I’ll never comprehend.”

“What has happened?” Hephaestus prodded, edging his way to the door ever so slowly.

“Oh, that silly bitch is getting the best of me and it’s driving me mad.”

“What has the girl done?”

“Bleeding Uranus, what hasn’t she done? I give her task after impossible task and, no matter what, the idiot executes it flawlessly.” Aphrodite tossed her red-gold hair away from her face and gave a click of irritation with her tongue. “Eros must be helping her, the besotted fool. Honestly, that a son of mine should sink so low as to fall in love with a mortal fills me with revulsion!”

This arrested Hephaestus’ surreptitious movement toward the door. Hateful memories and an aching heart caused him to forget his usual good sense and, before he could stop himself, Hephaestus asked, “Have you forgotten your affair with the mortal Anchises?” The moment the words left his mouth he realized his error. Seeing her hot flush of remembered humiliation and the vicious narrowing of her hard, sea-blue eyes, he gave the door one last, wistful look. Aphrodite’s retaliation would not be long in coming.

“You miserable excretion, how dare you throw that in my face? You know full well that what happened between me and the mortal was accomplished by the machinations of your father, Zeus.” Seeking to shift the focus from her disgrace, she asked again, “And just where
have
you been?”

Hephaestus well knew the look in her eyes. She could be uncommonly cruel when she wanted, and he was so tired of arguing with her. Hoping to distract her from her anger, he told her everything. A wicked smile crossed her delicate features and Hephaestus once again knew fear.

“Yes,” she hissed, rubbing her fingers together as her mental gears of destruction cranked busily. “Yes, that is it!”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, Husband, you have greatly pleased me! Come to me, my darling, let me kiss you!”

Hephaestus’ skin crawled, but he obeyed her. She took his sweating face in her hands and ran her tongue sensuously along his lips before kissing him deeply. And, though her kiss was laced with malice, he felt himself harden in response.

“You must do as Hades asks,” she said, stroking his face in a parody of affection, her mind on everything but love. “You must make the chains to bind Persephone so that he may have her.”

“Why?”

“So that she may be truly trapped in the Underworld. In that way, I may resolve the situation with Psyche once and for all.”

Hephaestus grunted as his wife brushed a long leg against his growing erection. “How?”

“Don’t you see? If you assist Hades, he is bound to assist
me
!”

“B-b-b-b-but I d-do n-n-n-not see how—”

“No, of course you don’t. I shall send Psyche to Erebus to fetch some of Persephone’s beauty in a box for me.”

Through the haze of wild desire brought on by his wife’s skillful hands, Hephaestus somehow had the presence of mind to ask, “How can one place beauty in a box?”

Aphrodite gave a malevolent smile. “One cannot. In the box will be the sleep of Death, placed there by Hades. I will instruct Psyche not to look in the box and, naturally, her curiosity will once again get the better of her and will prove to be her undoing!” She gave a long, purring laugh. “Oh, it is all too delicious!”

Hephaestus tried to resist her. “B-but I c-cannot d-d-do such a th-thing to Persephone.”

“Ah, but you must!” Aphrodite said, leaning forward to kiss him once again. “You certainly do not wish to risk my displeasure. And only think of the pleasure you’ll
miss
if you don’t do this thing for me.”

And as his wife worked her evil magic along his twisted body, Hephaestus surrendered to the inevitable. Of course he would help her. His scruples had never really had a chance.

VIII.

Hades’ Palace, Underworld

 

PERSEPHONE AWOKE WITH
an uneasy feeling the following day. Her heart fluttered in her chest and her stomach clenched as she sat up and surveyed the bedchamber, seeking Hades. Discovering herself alone, she sank back against the smooth pillows and contemplated how she might resolve her dilemma.

Persephone recalled the look on Hades’ face when she told him she was no longer a virgin and shuddered. That intelligence wounded him, and she marveled at that. Why should it matter to him? Unless…could it be that Hades loved her? She sat up. Impossible. He could not already love her; he barely knew her.

She crossed her legs under the crumpled bedclothes and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands. Only the day before, she confessed to her sisters that she longed for a husband. How swiftly her innocent wish came to pass, once spoken. But she wanted to choose for herself, not be taken against her will. She had that right, at least.

Demeter might yet liberate her, and her refusal to partake of food or beverage while in Erebus would keep her incarceration from being irreversible. But what to do in the interim, while she waited for her mother to discover the truth and demand a reckoning?

Persephone considered Hades. Neither she nor any Immortal knew much about him, as he kept to his underground realm and never joined the Olympian Gods for their nightly feasts. Of course, she knew how he came to be ruler of the dead and pitied what she felt must be a lonely existence. Most of the other gods and goddesses disliked him, though she never understood why. Only Athena and Eros never spoke ill of Hades. And at that moment, Persephone recalled the memory that plucked so vexingly at her mind the day before.

Helius made his way across the western skies, eager to join the festivities on Mount Olympus. Persephone, already there, laughed weakly at another of Hermes’ jests when she spied the Warrior Goddess and Eros sitting apart from the others. Their heads were close together, Eros’ red-gold, closely-cropped curls in marked contrast with Athena’s long, dark locks. Curious, Persephone excused herself from her group and made her way over to the pair. They welcomed her with smiles, inviting her to sit with them. Athena passed her a goblet filled with nectar, which she accepted with a grin, asking, “And what is it you two discuss so earnestly between yourselves, far away from our brothers?”

The two exchanged inscrutable glances before Eros answered with a shrug, “Nothing of great import, Kore.”

Persephone made a face at him for the epithet. “You can’t distract me by calling me a young girl, being no more than a whelp yourself. Go on, do tell! The topic may not have been of import but it was surely of great interest, from the looks you wore as you spoke.”

“We would only bore you with our talk, dearest,” Athena said. “Instead, why do you not share with us Hermes’ latest tale?”

“Ah, well…” Persephone sighed, deflating as she remembered Hermes’ words. “He was relating a recent encounter with the Host of Many, on his return from escorting the newly deceased to Erebus. His description of Hades’ behavior was uncomplimentary, to say the very least, and though I laughed in spite of myself, I cannot help feeling ashamed.” She noticed how Eros shifted his position, almost as if in reaction to having heard Hades’ name. “I do not know him at all, but I cannot understand what it is about Hades the others so dislike.”

Athena’s eyes flickered to Eros before she lowered her lashes to examine the goblet she held in her hand. “I may not speak for the others, my dear, but perhaps it is merely that they fear the unknown.”

Persephone mulled over her sister’s words. “To be fair though, they cannot be held fully responsible for their ignorance if he himself never comes above ground to abide with us.”

At that, Eros raised his own green eyes to Persephone’s and said brusquely, “He does not come because he is not called.” He seemed to regret the harsh tone for he quickly looked away and took a deep draught of his nectar.

“Is he never?” Persephone asked, noting the flush that had appeared upon her nephew’s pale cheeks.

The Goddess of Wisdom said, “But Eros, it is not as if he has ever given any indication that he cares to be called.”

Eros gave another shrug. “And why would he? Having endured all the same struggles as his brothers when they battled Cronus and the Titans, with the Hecatonchires as practically their only allies, he won for himself a kingdom no one could ever want to rule. Don’t think Zeus and Poseidon are too concerned on his behalf.” Eros gave a bark of laughter. “Nor any of his sisters. The gods, while all powerful, are not always as compassionate as they might be,” Eros said, looking at Athena meaningfully before turning his eyes to the banquet table.

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