That Fatal Kiss (20 page)

She recalled the cast of his mien as they’d sought a spot in which to sit, his elegant carriage, his aura of power and control. Hades had been as sure, as easy with himself as she’d been tongue-tied and discomposed. And she’d liked him for it, admired his self-assurance and free manner. He’d delighted her. He’d made her want him all to herself. And then it’d all gone so wrong…

Persephone clicked her tongue, irritated, though she knew not by what or whom, and decided to focus on the matter at hand. She took one last glance around the chamber, then turned the floor a delicate grass-green and fitted the room with vases, these bearing ivory blossoms.

The goddess went on past the main entrance to another sitting chamber.
Hmmm,
she thought,
Hades would not want the space leading to the throne room to be welcoming
. Thinking of the impression Hades would certainly prefer to make, she left the marble walls there unpainted, but willed an onyx band along the floor and ceiling. She created only a few ebony tables and chairs, covered the floor with black and white mosaic tiles, and finally dotted the chamber with only two large jars filled with ghostly asphodel.

Persephone took a deep breath before striding into the throne room, only to expel it forcefully upon finding it vacant. Of course. She was about to transform it as well but stopped short at the thought of arousing Hades’ displeasure. Deciding it would be prudent to await his approval before tampering with his inner lair, she pressed on to the other side of the room and opened the ebony door there. It led into a narrow passageway, with another door opposite. The goddess opened it to find what she assumed to be the dining chamber. Oddly, it was already sumptuously ornamented, featuring a large wooden table with heavy chairs alongside it. The walls, like their bedchamber, were painted red, and iron sconces lined them, bearing unlit torches. Two long wooden chests also lined either side of the room, with beautifully crafted golden platters and goblets strewn about. Just the sight of them caused Persephone’s stomach to emit a keening wail. She grimaced and tried rubbing it, as if she could soothe herself into not feeling hungry, and continued to examine the room. Above the chests were weavings in rusty reds, golds, browns, and sage greens, depicting forest scenes, with deer and rabbits. All in all, it was a lovely chamber and there wasn’t a thing Persephone could do to improve it. Feeling vaguely peeved, she went on through to the next door.

The remainder of her visionary tour proved anticlimactic. She passed a suite of rooms which must belong to the servants, as they were fitted with mortal necessities. Since they were already pleasantly decorated, the goddess followed the narrower hallway to the right, went up three steps, and passed through a well-kept storage room. She walked through the massive kitchen and found herself back at the bathing chamber. Persephone enjoyed the room as it was so she merely equipped it with a beautifully adorned mirror of white gold and some rhododendron filled jars.

Exiting the chamber, the goddess placed her hands upon her hips and paused to determine what she might do next. Hades was obviously not within the palace, so she wasn’t likely to just happen upon him. But she had to do something to keep this agony of uncertainty at bay.

Yet, why should she feel unsure? It was Hades’ place to feel anxious for her, not the other way around. He’d had his grand opportunity to make love to her and had shown her his true colors. He must feel the need to atone, mustn’t he?

As Persephone wandered down the corridor without aim, she felt her face warm. Though it had all transpired so quickly, she could yet recall the feel of him as he’d sunk into her, his heat, his hardness, his need. It had ignited an equally powerful need in her. But what had that need been, precisely? Not simply the urge to mate with Hades, no. It was that and more. She’d wanted him completely, longed to unite with him in a way she’d never before experienced. The goddess had ached for something…unknown. She’d yearned for a perfect alignment, not only of their bodies, but of their hearts, their souls...

Persephone laughed at herself. They’d known one another so little; their hearts could only be strangers to one another. And in any event, the only joining Hades had shown interest in was that of the flesh. Though even as she thought it, the goddess couldn’t fully believe it. Hades must want more of her, he simply
must
.

Angry with herself for all of this futile speculation, Persephone marched out into the courtyard and occupied herself by identifying and labeling the various herbs and plants. She looked up frequently from the monotony of her self-imposed chore to see if she could catch a glimpse of Hades. But she did not. And finally, anger, anxiety, and hunger vying for supremacy in her stomach, she retreated to her bedchamber. Persephone stretched herself out on the bed, hoping for a restorative nap, hoping for anything that could help her escape from the torture of her fevered thoughts. But she was too overwrought to keep her eyes closed.

Now, circuiting the room for the umpteenth time, the goddess snapped her fingers. “The Mirror!” She sped from the chamber, down the long corridor and steps, and through the sitting rooms until she reached the doors of the throne room. She belatedly thought to rap at the door as she opened it, only it proved not to matter as Hades was not within. Persephone tramped over to the spot where the weaving covered the Viewing Mirror and willed it to reveal itself. Nothing happened. Disconcerted, she spoke the command aloud, only to be greeted with the same insubordination. The goddess glared at it, thinking, rightly, that while she could command it to reveal another, only Hades might successfully persuade it to reveal itself. With an oath, she quit the room and strode back to the bedchamber, slamming the door shut. Where in Tartarus was he? And why had he not come to her yet today?

Finally, the true worry she’d been suppressing all that day broke free from captivity to torment her. What if she’d so offended Hades when she’d left him that he didn’t want her anymore?

Persephone cringed at the thought of her last words to him. They hadn’t merely been angry, they’d been unkind.
No
, the goddess admitted to herself,
they’d been cruel, punishing.
She’d lashed out at him, with deliberate intent to strike him in the most tender of places.

She cupped her head in her hands. How could she have done it? Yes, she’d been upset, horrified that Hades’ better qualities extended only so far and that, as regarded a wife, he sought to fulfill only his own pleasures. Persephone had nursed the hope that he could, indeed, already love her, and would take every care to show it when they consummated their marriage.

But she hadn’t let him.

When Hades’ passion for her proved unstoppable, Persephone offered insults, rather than encouragement. She should have been patient with him, she should have explained. After all, it was likely that Hades had never—

The goddess raised her head from her hands, gasping at this dawning realization. Hades could not have been intimate with a female before…she must have been his first lover! The idea seemed almost impossible and yet quickly grew fixed in Persephone’s mind. Hades rarely, if ever, went above ground, and no living mortal female, or immortal goddess, would ever think to descend to Erebus in search of a mate. What she’d taken for disinterest in her needs must have been his ignorance of them, of course!

Waves of remorse washed over Persephone. Blast her wretched tongue for condemning Hades with such bitter recriminations. More than once she’d given herself cause to regret the mischief of rashly uttered words. Well, she must learn to guard against such behavior in future, but for now, she must discover some way of restoring Hades’ confidence, for she must have destroyed it with her cutting remarks. Only how was she to mend things between them if he could not even bear to return to his home for fear of encountering her?

It occurred to the goddess that, though Hecate would surely disparage her, she might be able to give Persephone some insight into Hades that would be of assistance. Persephone reached for the golden bough, about to strike the floor to summon the Witch, then thought better of it. Should Hades miraculously choose to seek her out, she did not want to be discovered discussing his suspected lack of experience with Hecate. Instead, she clapped for Ione and asked where she might find the white-haired goddess. Learning the location of Hecate’s most favored cave, Persephone debated calling for her horse to be readied. Then, deciding that the walk might serve to exorcise her agitation, she took her scarlet cloak, secured it about her shoulders, and set off to find the Witch Goddess.

It seemed to Persephone that she’d trudged through Erebus for hours and was still no nearer to any area where she might reasonably come upon Hecate’s cave. Exhausted by her exertion and feelings of guilt, Persephone made for a rock formation and sat on a smallish boulder for a short rest.

A warm wind rustled past, blowing her cloak off one shoulder. The goddess pulled it back up, wondering at the warmth. Whence came it, when she’d yet only felt a damp coolness through the region? Persephone looked about her, to see if she could discern her direction in relation to what she knew of the terrain above ground. It seemed nearly impossible to do so at first, until the goddess noted the vivid ochre color of the soil nearby.

“It’s reminiscent of Etna,” she mused aloud. “And if I’m near the mountain, the warmth could be coming from the workshop of Hephaestus.” And yet, the god’s workshop sat at the top of the mountain. Was it possible for the winds to descend underground to blow through Erebus?

A low sound penetrated Persephone’s absorption and she attentively listened for more. She soon heard it again, a deep moan, accompanied by a rush of stronger, heated air. But what could be causing it?

As the goddess’ cloak was blown off her shoulder once more, she recalled her maid’s mention of the eastern region of the Underworld. What had the woman said? Something about never willingly traversing through the lands beneath the mountain. But why not?

Another rumble came, accompanied by a stronger blast of hot air which tore her cloak from her hands and flung it to the ground. Persephone reached for the cloak, wrapped it tightly around herself, and took off, back the way she’d come. An alarm sounded in her head, though there was no apparent reason for worry. She did, however, believe Ione’s concern for the area should be heeded, and her own divine instincts urged her to be gone from that place. The goddess made a slight adjustment to her trajectory and resumed her search for the Witch’s underground home.

Perhaps another hour passed before Persephone came upon the opening to Hecate’s grotto. She leaned against a large rock and caught her breath. “Hecate!” she called, too weary to take another step.

Moments later, the other goddess emerged, her shining azure eyes widening at the sight of Persephone’s bedraggled appearance. “Persephone, what is your predicament that you come to me in this fashion?” she cried with some alarm, putting a supportive arm about the other goddess’ waist and helping her up the long stairway to her stony apartment. She offered Persephone libation, which was refused, then urged her to relate the cause of her distress. Mourning the loss of sympathy that was sure to follow, Persephone began her tale. Sure enough, the look of compassion in the Witch’s eyes gave way to one of censure. “Oh, Persephone!” she sighed, shaking her head.

“Yes, I know! You needn’t scold me, I am quite wroth with myself,” Persephone said, rubbing her temples. “What I need from you is sound guidance on how I may repair the damage done by my wicked tongue.”

Hecate’s “Harrumph!” was less than encouraging. She leaned back in her chair, carved out of soapstone. “I wonder if your husband has fully grasped the nature of the shrew he has taken to his bosom.”

Persephone took to her feet irritably. “Yes, yes, I’ve been a virago, a veritable harpy! There, are you happy now? If you don’t mean to help me, I shall remove my odious presence from your dwelling.”

Hecate reached over to grab Persephone’s arm and pulled her back down to her seat. “As long as you own your callousness, I feel I am able to tolerate your company.”

“How magnanimous of you,” Persephone said, her voice shaky with tears of shame.

Hecate patted her hand briskly. “Now then, let’s try to be dispassionate about things and examine the facts. Let me say, I very much doubt that you were his first.”

That startled Persephone right out of her self-pity. “Really?”

“Really. You forget the waters that run through Erebus. I’m sure he must have encountered the occasional river nymph and…er…formalized his education.”

Thinking she should be grateful for that, at least, Persephone instead felt a sharp pang in her stomach, and this time it wasn’t due to hunger. Her temples began to pound and her heart thumped uncomfortably in her chest. She could not, at first, fathom why she should become so physically disturbed. But as a flush of angry heat arose within her, she realized she was jealous. She stood without realizing she did so, then swiftly resumed her seat at Hecate’s quizzical look. The younger goddess took to biting her thumbnail, wondering which of the nymphs might have tutored Hades in the art of loving, then scoffed silently at herself. She knew she was being ridiculous; it should not matter to her one jot with whom he had lain.

But it did. A scowl formed on her face, marring its smooth lines. Persephone, who’d never cared enough for a male to feel such ugly emotion before, was passionately, overpoweringly jealous. She could not bear the thought of him touching another female’s skin, bestowing lovingly intimate caresses. Her stomach revolted at the vision she’d conjured, of Hades taking another into his arms, parting her legs and—

“You say you have not seen him at all since your disastrous encounter?” At Persephone’s preoccupied shake, the Witch continued, “And he has made no effort to contact you, through a servant, perhaps?”

“Nay. I asked them all if their master left any message for me and they all claimed ignorance of his whereabouts,” Persephone answered, worrying her nail more fretfully.