That Fatal Kiss (9 page)

“Cease your chatter, Hecate. You’re giving me a headache,” Persephone said, beginning to feel that this was her own punishment for having teased Artemis so often in the past herself.

“Ah, now, Persephone, do not be wroth with me. I so rarely enjoy company in Erebus that I forget how to behave myself. Let me make amends by speaking plainly. The truth is that Hades has never shown any interest in mating with me whatsoever. And indeed, we are ill suited to one another. I revel in the shadows; he retreats to the dark to hide from others, though he deplores the lack of illumination. I prefer the solitude found in my underground dwelling while he craves companionship as much as he fears rejection. And so, though we are both creatures of the gloom, he seeks a flame to light his. Which is why he chose you, out of all the others.”

“I am flattered beyond belief.”

Hecate ignored her. “Now, when I am here, he comes to me as any neighbor might to ask for my assistance or advice. He does not ask often, so I am eager to lend my support, as he himself has come to my aid when necessary.”

“How gracious of you both,” Persephone observed, casting a sidelong glance at the other goddess before giving a genuine smile. “Forgive me for being cross. Though I dislike to admit it, there is truth to what you’ve said of me and, as I know not what to make of my own emotions, I take refuge in derision.”

“How very like your new husband you are,” Hecate said, then laughed at the rude gesture Persephone made.

They traveled along the dusky path without encountering any others until they reached the midpoint between the palace and Tartarus. Now Persephone saw a line of the shades of the newly dead assembled, and asked, “These are the souls awaiting judgment, then?”

The elder goddess nodded, guiding her horse away from the path, prompting Persephone to do the same. “Yes, they gather and await judgment by Rhadamanthys, Minos, and Aeacus, so their place in Erebus may be assigned. It behooves us to keep our distance from them, as they are disoriented, even belligerent, and may not yet be aware that they have died.”

“But surely they cannot harm us?” Persephone asked as they rode past the shades.

“No, but I thought it might cause you discomfort to see them, as I know you are softhearted,” Hecate answered, urging her horse to take the fork in the road to the left. Persephone followed, seeing that they would soon reach Tartarus.

“Tell me,” she began, as a thought returned to her, “how is it that Hades came to know of me, well enough to choose me for his bride, since he rarely leaves this place?”

Hecate gave Persephone an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid the fault is mine.”

“How so?”

“You see, shortly after he’d come down to rule, he inquired of me how he might keep abreast of the events above ground, and so I created for him a magical mirror, made of the most polished bronze. I charmed it so that he might look into it at any given moment and ask it to reveal to him any occurrence throughout the Heavens and Earth. But I made him swear by the Styx that he would not reveal its existence, especially not to Zeus, before I gave it to him.”

“Why would you insist upon a binding oath for such a trifling matter?”

“Hardly a trifling matter, my dear. Only imagine; if Zeus knew of it, he would insist upon having one himself! And then Hera would want one, and Hermes and Apollo, and eventually I would do nothing but craft and charm mirrors for the remainder of my existence!”

The younger goddess smiled at the forcefulness of the other’s words. “Quite tiresome, I would imagine.”

“Well, quite! In any event, Hades was taken with it and I presume that is how he came to love you, from watching you thus.”

Persephone’s brows furrowed. “You think he loves me?”

“I think he must, yes, though not yet as much as he
needs
you. And naturally, his experience with others being so limited, he probably is overwhelmed by emotions for you but knows not how to manage or express them.”

“Humph,” was Persephone’s response. “Perhaps he should send for Eros, then. The God of Love seems exceedingly sympathetic toward Hades. I’m certain he’d happily advise him in the art of courtship.”

“Is that right?” Hecate asked, with some surprise.

“Apparently.”

The goddesses exchanged speculative glances before turning their eyes forward again. The bronze fortification which encircled the vast region of Tartarus loomed before them. Persephone heard the wails of those being punished within and cringed from the sound. She cast her eyes upward, following the length of the walls until she could just barely see where they ended. By the wrought iron portal stood the Fury, Tisiphone, bearing a whip in one hand and a blazing torch in the other. The three Furies were rumored to be hideous creatures, resembling monsters, but Persephone saw that it was not true, at least, not of Tisiphone. Though the dark-haired goddess wore a fearsome countenance, her beauty could not be denied. Her pale skin gleamed against her black hair and clothes, and the flames from the torch were reflected in the depths of her equally dark eyes.

“Come, Tisiphone, and greet the new Mistress of Erebus,” Hecate called out.

The Fury set down her whip and walked closer to the mounted goddesses, bowing when she reached them. “Welcome, Persephone. I am pleased to have you join us, though I cannot like the method in which your presence was obtained.”

Persephone inclined her head in thanks for the sentiment before inquiring, “Do you stand guard here always, Tisiphone?”

“Not always. Sometimes I go within to punish the condemned, or I join my sisters above ground to gather up those mortals who have escaped justice.”

“And who avenges crimes against the gods?” Persephone asked.

“Only Zeus may reprimand another Immortal.”

“And who may reprimand Zeus?”

“Discretion, Persephone!” Hecate said.

“Discretion be damned,” Persephone said. “I will speak freely!” She turned back to the Fury, noting that Tisiphone did not censure her, either by word or gesture. “Who may avenge me, Tisiphone?”

“If you truly seek vengeance, then perhaps you shall avenge yourself.”

“Perhaps? Why would I not seek vengeance? Have I not been severely wronged?”

“You have.”

“Then?” Persephone challenged.

Tisiphone’s dark eyes shone. “Only you know what it is you truly seek.”

“If not vengeance, then what?”

“Fulfillment.”

Persephone pointedly ignored the smirk that came to Hecate’s face, wondering caustically if all of her thoughts and emotions were so easily read or if it was only these two goddesses who could so perfectly divine them. “We shouldn’t keep you from your duties any longer. Come, Hecate, let us continue on our way.”

Tisiphone bowed again as Persephone turned Zephyr around, with Hecate following suit. The Witch Goddess led the way down to the river Styx and guided them along its course, through the fields of white asphodel. She watched as Persephone took in the sights of the fluttering shades, which were excited by their presence, but did not draw near them.

Persephone’s expression changed from one of irritation to pity at the sight of these senseless beings as they lamented the loss of life and love, those that could still remember, that is. They trekked slowly through the fields and Persephone commiserated with their confusion. Like her, they’d been taken from all they knew and loved. But to these souls remained neither power nor pleasure. Only those judged worthy of placement in the Elysium fields found joy in the Underworld. Persephone knew these shades were not guilty of great crimes. They had lived ordinary lives, each praising the gods as he or she best could, only to endure this dreary land for a thousand years before choosing new destinies. Then they would drink the waters of the river Lethe, to completely forget all that had come before, and return to the Upperworld, only to repeat the cycle. Some would return to Erebus and be sent to Elysium instead, others would spend another thousand years in the asphodel, doing nothing, feeling nothing but longing for precious life, and others still would be condemned to Tartarus, and so on. Persephone grew troubled for them, these hapless mortals, but it was beyond even her power to alter their fates.

“Do they lose
all
reason and sense here in the fields?” Persephone asked Hecate.

“At first, they remember everything of life, even how they died, but after a time they grow befuddled and sluggish. The memories are harder for them to recall and they have neither the will nor the ability to fight for them.”

Persephone saw Charon’s ship on the dark, roiling waters of the Styx, heading out to the opposite bank to pick up the new shades. Cerberus waited patiently for his return, to ascertain that no one on board the ferry could harm his Master. She reflected that he would have been a handsome animal, if not for his three heads. Persephone shuddered and drove Zephyr forward, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to put the dead behind her and forget them for a while.

And time passed as they followed the Styx, until they finally reached the emerald fields that stretched out into Elysium. “Shall we go join the Blessed Ones?” Hecate offered.

“I have been out long. Is it time for the evening meal?”

“Yes. Charon crosses the Styx twice a day; once before we break our fasts in the morning and again before suppertime.”

“Then I must return to the palace and join Hades while he eats.”

“While
he
eats? Do you not eat as well?”

“I do not. It is the only way I may assert myself. If no morsel passes my lips, I am not bound to this realm.”

“Do you think that wise?” Hecate’s face revealed true worry. “How long do you think you may go on that way before you become ill?”

“I will fast for as long as is necessary,” Persephone answered firmly. “And I daresay I may go without food and ambrosia as long as any Immortal forsworn by the Styx might.”

“A year, Persephone? Have you gone mad?”

“I…I hope it won’t come to that.”

“It had better not come to that!” Hecate said. “Immortals can endure such deprivation only because they have become immovable and insensible themselves. If they could be aware of anything at all, they would feel very ill indeed, after just a short time!”

The other goddess’ words shook Persephone’s convictions, but she forced herself to recall the reason for them to begin with. Hoping she sounded more resolute than she suddenly felt, Persephone said, “I do appreciate your concern, Hecate, but I shall not be moved. Until this matter is resolved to my satisfaction, I shall not bind myself to this world by partaking of even the smallest morsel.”

Hecate shook her head. “Very well. Let me guide you back, then.”

They proceeded to the palace, which was not too far off, and Persephone broke the quiet by asking, “Hecate, if no opportunity for return to the Upperworld presents itself, how may I best deal with Hades?”

“If you like, I can teach you an incantation which will bend him to your will,” the Witch Goddess said.

“That would be magic indeed!” Persephone laughed. “Though it might be just retribution, I cannot employ such methods against anyone.”

“All right.”

They neared the main entrance of the palace and passed a large golden tree. The Witch reached up and broke off a small branch. She handed it to Persephone, saying “I will not let you return completely unarmed.”

“What may I do with this?” the younger goddess asked, without accepting the branch.

Hecate grinned wickedly. “I have just charmed this bough so that you may use it to learn what your husband will not volunteer.” At Persephone’s look of incomprehension, Hecate explained, “He will not be forthcoming with his feelings, and there will be difficult times ahead if you cannot get past his reserve. When you wish him to speak plainly, merely touch him with this and he will reveal that which he wishes to conceal.” When the other goddess hesitated, Hecate laid the slender branch on Persephone’s forearm and posed the question, “What do you feel for Hades?”

“I am furious with him for seizing me against my will.”

“And what else?” the Witch prompted.

“And at the same time, I feel an intense connection to him. I want him, desperately.” Persephone gasped as soon as the words were spoken, then snatched the bough away from Hecate and swatted her with it. “You accursed shrew, cease your mockery of me!”

“You see how well it works?” Hecate asked, unabashed. “Keep it and use it wisely!”

Persephone fixed her with a fierce stare before grinning herself. “Very well, I thank you for your gift. And now I must go.”

Hecate bowed her head in parting and began to turn her horse away. “Should you need me, you may also tap the ground with it thrice and I will know and come to you. Farewell, my dear.”

Persephone waved the bough at the Witch and commanded her horse to gallop back to the palace gate. Though her stomach tightened at the thought of being alone with Hades again, she was not certain whether that was due to anxiety or something else altogether.

IX.

HADES PACED THE
cool obsidian floor of the throne room, wondering where Hephaestus was and why he tarried. Persephone would soon return and he wanted the special chains in place before she went to their bedchamber. He pushed down the doubt that threatened his resolve. Since Persephone could not love him, he must surely continue to take what he wanted. Only he could not silence the inner voice that ridiculed him for his cowardice, his lack of skill in courtship. But how could there be any hope of courtship? Having already alienated her by spiriting her away from all that she knew and loved, he then hurt her, physically….