Of Lockets and Pomegranates: Chapter 12
Of Lockets and Pomegranates
Persephone
A maelstrom of emotions whirled through her—confusion, anger, longing—as she stalked through the Underworld. Souls scurried away. Lamia, the blind snake-woman, hissed venomously. Thanatos and Erebus snickered, elbowing one another. Even Nyx, Hecate, and Cerberus, who were having tea together in the residential cavern, watched her as she went. Each was surprised to see her; she never left the throne room cavern. She didn’t care what any of them thought. Not when so much turmoil rushed through her.
Hades hadn’t thanked her for declaring she’d keep her mouth shut. As a matter of fact, he had said nothing. Just walked past her, fixing his immaculate suit sleeve as a nervous tic. She followed him to the kitchen, and she realized he would say nothing as he grabbed a bottle of Nectar—the alcoholic kind, not to be confused with the nectar that could heal a demigod—from a display shelf. Knowing Dionysus, he probably thought himself amusing for the name. He drank from the bottle for several seconds. She left then, determined to call upon Zeus to tell him about the Champion.
Except… she couldn’t.
Her uncle would lose his temper, and Hades would take the brunt of it. That fact alone made her gut clench, another thing she needed to analyze later. She had to tell someone though; this news was too much to contain. That need led her to seek the one person who likely already knew about the Champion. Hypnos. This was why he had babysat her. She knew it wasn’t out of the kindness of his heart but hadn’t expected him to be a cover for a gods-forsaken mortal.
A fucking Champion, too!
Now she traveled deeper into the Underworld than she’d ever been, not knowing where she was going. He lived in the residential cavern alongside the other gods and creatures who called the Underworld home. That much she did know. She found herself outside Hypnos’s chambers. The smell of his godliness, lavender mixed with honey, drifted from behind the closed door, a beacon she hadn’t realized she’d been following.
She saved that detail for later, once she had better control of her feelings. Her list of things to contemplate was overwhelming. For a moment, she thought about knocking before her anger demanded otherwise.
With her powers, she slammed open the door. Her gaze snapped to Hypnos. He was sprawled above his couch, floating inches over it as if the fabric offended him. His face was a bored mask, as if he expected her to barge into his space.
“You knew about her, didn’t you?” Persephone seethed as she stomped into his living room.
The door shut behind her, plunging them into muted darkness. The glow of a nightlight was the only source of light, casting shifting shadows around the room as the orb spun.
“I expected them to make it through the full six months before you learned of her,” Hypnos said, sounding exhausted. “It was only a matter of time before you learned of her, but I figured they’d have some time. A month and a half isn’t bad, I suppose, not with a snoopy goddess hovering around.”
“You came to me to be a cover for him? Nothing that has happened has been real, has it?” Tears sprang unbidden; her vision clouded. “Why does that hurt?”
“Because you have a heart, Seph. No matter what your mother says, you care deeply.” He paused, letting her sniffle through the sudden onslaught of tears. “That’s why you haven’t pursued me since that moment in Slumber. You need closure.”
Too tired to argue, she dropped her face into her hands. Strong arms wrapped around her shoulders. He pulled her against his sturdy body. She curled into his arms, foregoing any resistance. For the first time in a long time, it wasn’t her mother’s comfort she craved.
“You cannot lie in Slumber. No one can.” he reminded her and stroked the crown of her head. “Not everything has been fake.”
“Would you tell me no if I asked to continue what we started?” Her question was improper, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to forget. About the Champion, about Hades, about her mother. She could do that with him. “No strings attached.”
“No strings attached,” he confirmed. She ignored the hint of emotion in his voice. “You only needed to consent.”
When he didn’t move, she pulled back to watch his face. “Are you going to kiss me?”
“I would love to, but…” His cheeks blushed pink. A yawn followed, so wide his jaw cracked. “I don’t think I can perform here.”
“Well, aren’t you chivalrous?” She teased and placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “Are you going to make me wait until I go to sleep?”
He shook his head. “No. Follow me.”
He floated away, leading her to the single bedroom at the back of his tiny space. She took in the room. The bed hovered over the ground, fat puffs of clouds dissolving and reappearing at the edges. Nothing else filled the room, but the walls gave her pause. Thick globs of acrylic paint formed a beautiful impressionist painting that melted into different scenes the longer she looked.
“This is gorgeous,” she hummed, fighting the urge to run her fingers through the still-wet globs. The painted flowers smelled like a real bouquet, their scent wafting on an unfelt breeze. “Are you going to use Slumber Sand on me to put me to sleep?”
Guilt shot through her when she remembered the vial she had collected. Her intentions then hadn’t been pure, and she wished she’d gotten rid of it sooner. She would after they were done.
Sensing her guilt, Hypnos turned to look at her, eyes narrowed. “Have you ever been dosed with Slumber Sand?”
“I can’t say that I have,” she said with a frown.
“You’re helpless to wake, no matter how dark your dreams become,” he said. His weariness disappeared. “Don’t take Slumber Sand lightly, Seph. It can kill you.”
She held up her hands in surrender. “Okay! Okay! I was kidding!”
He nodded, fatigue darkening his red and blue eyes again. A door clicked open, hidden beneath the paint. Intense red light filled the room as pomegranate seeds plinked to the ground and disappeared into the void.
They stepped through.
***
Hypnos
“Welcome to Slumber,” Hypnos said with a flourish. He felt lighter, as he always did when he entered his realm.
Persephone gasped in awe, drawing his attention to her. She was beautiful when she dropped her defenses. Golden eyes wide as she scanned the surrounding splendor. Her gaze moved to the fountain and stayed there. It was his favorite feature of the atrium, and it was odd to think they had shared appreciation for it.
“This place is stunning,” she whispered, dipping her fingers into the water. “It reminds me of home.”
“As are you, Seph,” he said, coming up behind her. His arm snaked around her waist and to the base of her throat. He felt her thundering pulse when he tilted her head to the side and kissed the fluttering spot. Her breath hitched. “But you aren’t here to be reminded of home; you’re here to forget everything you’ve run from.”
“Yes,” she said with a contented sigh, not bothering to lie. “Make me forget.”
“Not here,” he whispered, his lips still against her pulse. No one else would step through the portals; he’d sense them before they could. But he wouldn’t allow himself to be that reckless. “Follow me.”
She obeyed, and he would applaud her for being such a good little pet-after he had her undressed. He led them to his dreamscape door, where his hand hovered over the lantern-shaped knob he’d taken from his wife’s door before she faded away.
Pasithea was always his guiding light.
He couldn’t think of her. Not now. The brief thought of her reminded him he wouldn’t be able to remain detached from Persephone. Pasithea would beg him not to do this. Not out of jealousy or malice; she wouldn’t want to see him get hurt because he fell for Persephone.
It was too late to stop.
He pushed open the door and told himself his emotions were a problem for later. Now was about forgetting, for her and for him. He pulled her in and shut the door, content to beg forgiveness afterwards.
Darkness engulfed them for a startling second before his dreamscape snapped into focus. They were in a cottage painted with acrylics. A nest of plush pillows and velvet blankets sprawled before them. Hundreds of candles dotted the space, their flames flickering, and blood-red lilies were placed around the nest. The rest of the details were out of focus.
“Perfect,” she whispered and threw herself into his arms.
Her lips were against his before he could agree. Thoughts of Pasithea and Hades were banished as soon as his tongue stroked her lower lip, begging her to open for him. When she didn’t, his hands wound into her hair. She gasped, and he claimed her. She tasted of sunlight and baked bread.
Her hands found the hem of his shirt, and he hissed at the heat of her fingers against his bare skin. She smiled against his lips, breaking the kiss to pull the fabric over his head, tossing it on the floor.
“Have you always been so attractive?” she asked, her gaze glued to his bare chest. “I’ve never noticed.”
“That’s easy to do when you hate someone,” he said as he pushed her back until she hit the wall. He teased the exposed flesh at the collar of her dress. “You’ve always been gorgeous, but you already knew that.”
A purr of satisfaction rumbled through her. She enjoyed being pushed around, he realized. Gods below, he was going to enjoy showing her how dominant he could be when he wasn’t riddled with exhaustion.
A tingle at the back of his mind was the only lingering feeling that he should stop this. But there was no stopping this time, even if he regretted the decision later.
Editor: Lucy Cafiero
