Of Lockets and Pomegranates: Chapter 3
Of Lockets and Pomegranates
Hades was all bark and very little bite. You’re mine, he’d told her, and he had meant it. She was his, but his declaration didn’t translate into claiming Pandora in that primal way he wished he could. Instead, it meant they settled into an easy routine that normal couples tended did. He didn’t know the last time he’d done ‘normal’.
In the morning, Hades conjured breakfast for the two of them and kissed the crown of her head before leaving for work. Then, they’d spend the evening enjoying each other’s company. Sweet time together but never attempting to go further than that, allowing her time to adjust. He wanted her, but she needed to heal before she could truly be his.
Despite that, he’d never been so relaxed. He’d delegated non-urgent matters to Hypnos and Nyx, sometimes Thanatos, Hypnos’ twin. Special cases operated in a queue that would ping his cell phone.
Currently, Pandora sat cross-legged on the stool next to him, the bite she’d taken from her jelly-coated toast leaving her cheek chipmunk’d. There was nothing demure about her when she was around him, and that melted something in his chest. It was an unfamiliar feeling.
He reached over to brush away crumbs, his thumb grazing her bottom lip. She nipped at him, smiling mischievously when he froze. She winked, and his heart stuttered. He didn’t remember the last time someone had been so relaxed with him. Even Hypnos flinched at his presence sometimes.
“You’re so beautiful.” He gripped her chin gently and tilted her head so he could see her eyes. “I’d like to kiss you.”
She swallowed, and her cheeks flushed. “I’d like that.”
He didn’t hesitate, capturing her mouth in a feather-light kiss. It didn’t stay gentle long. His hand slipped to the base of her neck, pulling her closer. The taste of grape jelly and something uniquely hers filled his senses. He’d never be able to explain it. Even the taste of ambrosia didn’t compare to her. He devoured her like a starved man who hadn’t eaten in months.
She was just as hungry for him and climbed onto his lap. Her fists bunched in his shirt, begging him not to pull away. He didn’t want to, but he did. They came apart, gasping for breath, and her face was as flushed as his felt.
“My darling pixie, we need to stop before I cannot stop,” he said even as his hand caressed the base of her neck tantalizingly. He could easily pull her against him again.
“What if I don’t want you to stop?” She loosened her grip on his shirt.
That simple question was the sweetest he’d ever heard. He really didn’t want to stop, but he had to. Persephone was due back, her six months in the Underworld looming like a noose. If not for her return, he’d have done this sooner. He couldn’t start something with Pandora without cutting ties with Persephone first.
“I’m sorry.” And he was. His hand drifted to the necklace at her throat, stroking the warm metal. “I have a matter to attend to. Then we’ll pick this up tonight.”
“Of course.” From the look on her face, he knew she wasn’t excited, but she nodded. “You’re busy being the God of the Underworld.”
His fingers curled around her neck, squeezing gently, and he smirked when her pulse quickened. He pulled her so that his lips brushed her ear. “Once I’ve settled this matter, I will show you what kind of god I really am. My name shall be the only prayer you’ll be able to utter.”
She shivered under his touch, and a chuckle rumbled out of him. She may not fear him, but she responded to him in the sweetest way. He released her neck, and she scrambled back to her stool. The color on her cheeks had spread, and she fumbled to smooth out her sweater dress with flustered hands. He lifted his coffee mug to his lips and crossed his legs at the knee to hide his reaction.
After a stunned moment of silence, Pandora spoke, her voice pitched from how riled she was. “Has a soul ever asked to stay?”
He perked an eyebrow. “A lot of souls have asked me a lot of things. No one has asked me to stay. Sane souls,” he looked at her pointedly, “try to avoid me. I’m the boogeyman they’ve always feared.”
“They’re weak,” she settled on the stool, her bare thighs exposed as she shifted. He wanted to run his fingers over that smooth skin. “They’re the same people who think Dobermans are bad just because they look intimidating.”
“Did you just call me a Doberman?” he chuckled.
She grinned, and they laughed. Her laugh was so sweet that he stopped to listen. He wanted to pull her back into his lap, to forget that Persephone existed. He wished to stay here, listening to the tinkling of her laughter and the open way she spoke.
“We’ll continue this tonight,” he repeated suddenly. “If I don’t do this now, we will find ourselves in trouble.”
***
The sun’s rays illuminated Persephone’s skin as she spun. She would miss this feeling; she always did when she returned to the Underworld. Spinning again, her feet got tangled, she fell to the grass giggling, rolled onto her back, and watched the clouds float by. She felt safe in the Upperworld… normal.
Her mother appeared above her, smiling sadly. Demeter was lovely in a maternal way. She had brown hair several shades darker than her own, kept loose and falling to her lower back. A section at the front was braided into a circlet atop her head with red flowers and strands of wheat woven into it. She had a pupil that broke up the sunset color of her eyes, unlike most of the other gods, and she allowed her face to crease with age. She had never wanted to be perfect.
Persephone pulled her mother to sit with her, wrapping her arms around her. She stroked her hair. “Mama, I’ll be back before you know it.”
Demeter sighed, shaking her head. “I am weakening. You are my other half, the half I was never meant to be without. Even with my Champions, I’ll soon be a figment of what I once was.”
“I’ll fix this one day,” she assured her mother.
Before she could say more, a portal appeared. Hades didn’t trust her enough to grant her access to materialize in the Underworld by her own means. Instead, she could only portal to the River Acheron as if she were a lowly soul. She’d only tried to fight the draw of the portal once and had felt like she was dying. She’d never repeat the mistake again.
“I love you,” she whispered before disappearing.
The portal was freezing but it was over in a blink. It smelled of death and sorrow, and moans of souls as they moved through the waters followed. They wanted to cleanse themselves, but she’d never be cleansed here. Only the Upperworld could cleanse her.
When she opened her eyes, Kharon watched her patiently. He was grandfatherly and the only resident of the Underworld who wasn’t cold to her. He never openly judged her for her anger towards Hades.
“Evening, young Persephone,” he called. He wore nothing but his long, gray beard wrapped around him like a loincloth, and she pointedly looked away. “Was the Upperworld as lovely as usual?”
“You know it was. Seeing my mother is the only thing I ever look forward to,” she responded with a smile that faded as she boarded. The ferry was full tonight, making it impossible to sit anywhere but behind the ferryman. “There’s no life here.”
“There’s more life here than you think,” he mused, tapping a gnarled hand on the wheel. “You need only look for it.”
She rolled her eyes. Like he knew anything about the living. He’d been the ferryman for so long that she doubted he’d ever been alive. “Would Hades be able to provide me with the life I want?”
As the boat pulled away from the dock, his knobby spine straightened minutely, but he kept his mouth closed. He never held her words against her. He simply stopped talking when she crossed a line. The ride dragged on in silence.
Eventually, the throne room appeared and Kharon docked. Two grandiose chairs sat in the middle of the massive cavern, surrounded by glowing moss and black fog that wafted off the river. Behind them were Hades’ office and their respective chambers. His chamber was on the left, accessible only from the office. Hers was to the right, up a winding path. He’d desperately tried to build her a garden, having found several plants that only grew in cavernous conditions. She hated them, or at least pretended to. When he’d done it, it had made her heart flutter.
He was on the larger of the two thrones, with an impatient look on his face that surprised her. With his elbows were propped on the armrests, fingers steepled and tapping his chin. He looked utterly bored, and that made her angrier. How dare he act as though she were a burden that he had no time for!
Besides him was Hypnos, God of Sleep and ever the lost puppy to the Death god. She tried to hide her distaste of him, but it was difficult. Everything about him was infuriating. The way he floated everywhere because he was always too tired to walk. The disconcerting way his eyes reminded her of 3D glasses, red on one side and blue on the other, blurring in the middle. She snapped her head away from him, back to the demon sitting on the throne.
Hades didn’t stand when Persephone approached. He didn’t call her his ‘lovely flower,’ or any of the things he usually did. Instead, he just sat there, rhythmically tapping his chin with wickedly long fingers, electric blue eyes watching her intently.
“Hades,” she said in a clipped tone. The way he was watching her made her skin crawl.
“Persephone,” he responded, still tapping. “I hope Demeter is well. I came to welcome you. We don’t need to waste time on pleasantries. Deaf ears and all that.”
She blinked indignantly, catching Hypnos smirking in her periphery. “You’re the one who insisted on pleasantries.”
“And now I’m ending them. All of this,” he said flatly. “I’ll be here upon your return and exit, but we don’t need to speak. It’ll be a mere formality.”
“Do as you wish. You always do,” she snapped, unable to keep her anger suppressed. Something impaled her—a feeling she could not give voice to. When Hypnos smirked again, the feeling snapped.
She spun to walk away, but he called to her, halting her steps. “Persephone, I have spent centuries trying to right my wrongs. I have given you everything but the freedom I cannot give. I cannot undo what is done but, I can promise you shall no longer need to deal with me.”
He said it so calmly that she was unsure she’d heard him correctly. Before she could answer, he disappeared. Hypnos dropped into the empty seat and lulled his head toward her. He looked smug sitting on her husband’s throne.
No, not her husband. He wasn’t hers anymore.
Editor: Michelle Naragon
