Page 96

“You’ve seen the cauldron?” Ares asks hoarsely.

“I have. And I saw your soul.” I touch my belly. “Bound to another.”

His eyes drop, and I know he knows what I’m saying. Horror and disbelief paint his expression as he takes a step away from me. “The child?”

An uncomfortable heat builds inside me. Ares’ eyes flood with red as he looks into mine. My vision turns white at the edges with a heat I can’t explain, and when I open my mouth, the voices of three sound. “Fate will come to pass as it is meant to pass, Ares, God of War and Courage. Kings and Gods will fall for new Kings and Gods to rise. The divide between humanity and Gods will narrow, and collective consciousness will grow. Evil will wither and new life will flourish. It has been seen and it will come to pass.”

The white-hot heat fades like mist and I gasp in a breath. Ares looks rather pale as he runs a big hand through his dark curls, never taking those blood-blasted eyes from mine.

I gasp. “I need to return home to the Underworld. And I need you to help me.”

“Anything.” Ares’ voice is impossibly rough. “Anything, Persephone.”

Chapter

Thirty-Nine

Persephone

On my kneesat the side of my bed, my hands come together in front of my chest, and I dip my head. Old habits die hard, clearly.

Inhaling through my nose, I breath out through my mouth. “Zeus, God, hear my prayer.” I swallow the taste of bitter acid that swells when I add, “Father, I wish to come home.”

Outside, wind whips against the stone that crafts the dome of this room. There is a window, large enough for Hephaestus to climb through, with mud-colored curtains pushed open, welcoming. Through the glass, stars wink in a dark sky. In the fireplace, the dancing flames have died to leave only the waving burn of hot coals to illuminate the space.

Shadows linger in every corner of the room. The narrow bed sits on a freshly laid carpet over the dusty stone floor. It is the only furniture in the room, moved in just for me. Just for tonight.

“Zeus,” I pray again. “King of Gods, find me in the mountains.”

A flash of golden-white light floods the room, and the window shatters into a thousand shards that shower the stone in a spray of tiny chimes.

Lightning. I smile to myself where I kneel at the side of the bed, my back to the window.

“You called, daughter.” At the sound of Zeus’ overconfident voice, my smile withers.

I stand and turn to face the evil God masked in the ethereal glow of an angel. Revulsion twists inside my belly, the acid of it threatening to spill from between my lips.

Zeus is—I hate to admit that he is a sight to behold. Now, under the dark spill of night in the low light of the burning coals that ignite the small fireplace in my room, Zeus paints a biblical picture.

White wings full with soft feathers span a massive length, sweeping the dusty floor and stretching over his head. His white hair and the gold crown he wears on his head glow with the same iridescent glow that leaches from his tan skin. His eyes are the blue of a sky promising a storm, cut with bolts of white-gold.

There is an undeniable attraction to Zeus that has surely seen many women throughout the span of history falling to their knees in prayer and submission.

But it’s not prayer or submission that excites Zeus. It’s taking that which isn’t willingly given. Life. Innocence. Servitude.

He gets off on the tears. The fear.The taking.

I swallow the burn of my hatred and force a smile. “Are you always in your Gods’ Form?”

“UnlikeothersI am not ashamed of what I am.”

I don’t let myself bristle at the dig on Ares and Hades. I simply say, “Why do some Gods change into something so frightening while others, like you, appear so,” I shrug. “Soft?”

Those hot bolts of light in his eyes flash. His cocky smile turns brittle. “I am not soft, I assure you, Persephone.”

“My apologies.” I cover my smile with a cough. “I meant delicate.”

Zeus takes a step toward me. I will my pulse to remain steady.