“I can’t go in with you,” Orpheus said as he pulled the hood of his black cape over his head to hide his face. “The cloak only works for one, and no way in hell I’m getting trapped on Olympus. Zeus has called one of his blitheringly boring summit meetings, so the gods will all be congregated in his temple, no doubt falling over themselves in an attempt to impress the pompous POS. You know the difference between a brownnoser and a shit-head, right, Isa?”
Isadora frowned.
“Depth perception.” Orpheus chuckled at his own joke.
“What about Persephone?” Isadora asked, trying to refocus him.
His cocky grin faded. “She’ll be where I told you.”
“How can you know for certain? Maybe she—”
“Trust me. She’ll be there. Any time she can get away from her mother, she heads for the trees. There’s more to destroy there.”
Trusting Orpheus went against everything in Isadora’s gut. But she didn’t have another choice. She was out of options, and if this didn’t work…
She ignored the sickness brewing in her belly and lifted her chin. “Where will you be?”
“Hiding out here, like the lower life-form I am.” He glared at her from beneath the hood. “You screw this up, Isa, and we’re both fucked.”
She nodded once. “I won’t.”
On one more deep breath, which didn’t do a thing for her tummy, she pulled the hood over her head and turned for the gates that granted access to Mount Olympus. For the love of all things holy, she was about to walk on hallowed ground.
Okay, correction. For her sake, she sure hoped good ol’ Zeus didn’t catch wind she was here. The god was not known for understanding, and his temper was worse than all seven of the Argonauts put together, on a bad day.
She held her breath as she walked cautiously up to the gates. When neither sentry looked in her direction, she realized they couldn’t see her. Orpheus’s invisibility cloak was working. Confidence growing, she slipped past the guards without even a glance and paused at the base of the winding road toward the temples.
Please let Orpheus be telling the truth…
She turned left instead of heading up the road and followed a low stone fence past wheat fields and olive orchards, until she came to the forest. Large trees she didn’t know how to name towered above, blocking out the sunlight. Low brush and trailing vines littered the ground.
She walked a quarter mile in the dim light before she noticed the shrubs and plants around her looked sickly and wilted. As she delved deeper into the forest, the ground became black, looked almost burned, and what little plant life was left was withered and dry.
Humming from ahead brought her feet to a halt, and she peered through the blackened tree trunks toward a small pond. Around the edge, the grass was brown and brittle. Even the tree branches protruding over the once-green oasis were drooped and void of leaves. A great sadness radiated from the space. And in the center of the pond, hovering inches above the surface, lay Persephone, floating on her back. But the only parts of her body touching the water were her fingers as they splayed over the surface of the pond.
Even reclined and in a state of miserable relaxation, she looked like a regal queen. The Queen of the Underworld. The queen of death and destruction. Which was exactly what she was.
Isadora’s nerves kicked up. She glanced back the way she’d come as worry and self-doubt raced down her spine. She had the goddess alone. Just like she’d wanted. But suddenly her tongue was thick and her throat was bone-dry.
Persephone’s hair was dark, her body lithe and graceful. She looked like a siren, but a thousand times stronger and a million time more dangerous. And she was way more intimidating than Isadora had expected.
“I wondered how long it would take you to get here.”
Isadora froze. Glanced around again. The goddess couldn’t possibly be speaking to her, could she?
“Of course I’m talking to you,” Persephone said, turning her head and pinning Isadora with deep green eyes the color of an Irish field. “Do you think I don’t know what you and your half-daemon friend are up to? You were only permitted to pass the gates of Olympus because I figure anyone as desperate as you deserves to be heard. And because your anxiety amuses me.” She heaved out a long sigh. “I do so get bored here.”
Isadora opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“Not so desperate now, I see.” Persephone looked back up to the sky. “And here I thought this was going to be interesting. Apparently you lack the panache of your father.”
“M-My father?” Oh, good one, Isa. Way to get right to the point.
“It’s been twenty-seven years since King Leonidas stood where you stand now. Asking very nearly the same thing.”
Suddenly, getting to the point didn’t seem so important after all. “Wait. My father came to you?”
Persephone’s irritated eyes darted to Isadora. “Did I not just say that? Keep up, girl.”
As far as Isadora knew, her father hated the interventions of the gods. In fact, he’d do just about anything to keep them from meddling in Argolean affairs. “Why did my father come here?”
Persephone huffed and lifted a hand to let water drip off her long, elegant fingers. “To ask me to use my influence on Hades. Isn’t that why you’re here?”
Wow. News flash.
“Yes,” Isadora said, stunned. “But I still don’t understand why my father would intervene.”
Persephone rolled her eyes and recited in a dull monotone: “There shall be two in every era, born of god and earth and men. One of strength and one of courage, two separate halves to bring the end. And they shall be known by the markings they bear, united in the twenty-seventh year. Only joined will the strong survive, to dissolve the pact and bring the end to life.”
A ghostly smile curled Persephone’s lips. “Morbid, isn’t it? But that’s my husband for you. Although that wasn’t the original text. Originally it said, ‘…united in the coming year.’ King Leonidas came here to ask me to barter for the addition of those twenty-seven years.”
At what Isadora knew was her perplexed expression, Persephone huffed and added, “In the past, Atalanta’s daemons were always able to locate the human half of that equation, thereby keeping the prophecy from coming true.”
Isadora’s stomach rolled. “He bartered to keep her alive just so she could die later?”
“All for the greater good.” Persephone’s brow wrinkled. “Don’t tell me you’re a bleeding heart for humans. They’re so…lower class.”
“She’s not just a human. She’s…my sister.”
“That’s just biology.”
At that moment, Isadora knew this goddess wasn’t going to help her. She forgot about strategy and spoke from her heart. “No, I don’t believe in sacrificing one for the good of many. Unlike you and the other gods up here in never-never land, I don’t view them as chess pieces to be placed at my whim. My father is a coward and a liar, and my coming here was very obviously a mistake.” She turned on her heel.
“Very good, Princess.” The laughter in Persephone’s words stopped Isadora’s feet. “You may just make an adequate queen, after all.”
Isadora glared over her shoulder at the goddess, who was now standing upright but still hovering over the water. “I’m so glad you approve.” Not.
She was just about to leave again when Persephone suddenly appeared in her path, looking—now—very much the queen she was. “I said, ‘may.’ Not ‘will.’ A lot depends on what you do next.” She tipped her head. “I believe I will grant you audience with Hades. I’ll even take you there.”
Persephone’s eyes sparkled at the excuse to see her husband again. Around them, the pond and forest burst to life, the colors and fragrances overwhelming the senses. And Isadora caught her breath at what was being offered to her for reasons she didn’t quite understand. “But of course, nothing is free, and we haven’t discussed the issue of payment yet.”