Page 28 of Flowers Near Me

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

FLOWERS NEAR ME

PERSEPHONE

I f Persephone could’ve melted Hades with her glare, she’d have done it without a second thought.

But her anger soon drained, leaving only guilt and embarrassment behind. What had she expected—Hades to laugh it off? Hermes wasn’t there on business and hadn’t been invited. The more she reasoned and rationalized Hades’ reaction, the sicker she felt at her petulance.

I pouted like a Fates-damned child.

Now she sat in an acrid wasteland of shame. Hades kept his eyes averted since she’d pierced them with hers, and now he scrolled on his phone. The marketing team resumed their presentation and moved on to preparations for the social events that would begin after they’d recorded their interviews. A few appearances around the city at choice vendors and public spaces, then ending with a massive gala to celebrate the launch.

As the marketing team outlined the gala’s events, Persephone scribbled jagged lines in her notebook, her stomach churning with regret.

Why did I think I could get away with it? And Hermes? Did Hades find him? What did he say?

Knowing Hermes, he probably spilled out the truth the way she should have as soon as she’d sat in Hades’ office.

She’d almost done it—told him everything with the hope he’d be merciful. Instead, she held fast to the story she’d conjured. She dug her heel into her foot, using the sting to steady her nerves.

There was a small part of her that felt her actions were justified. Hermes was a loyal and dear ally. He was far from perfect, but so was she. And years of working together had bonded them as work siblings and true friends. It wasn’t fair to him if she blabbed about his romantic troubles—no matter how small. She’d known Hermes for fifteen years and had lived with Hades for a little over two months.

She flicked her gaze back to Hades, who was watching the presentation, but turned his head towards her as if he sensed her attention. She gave him a weak smile, which he returned with his own, along with a playful wink.

After the marketing presentation concluded a little while later, Persephone asked Hades to step into her office.

As soon as her door closed, she turned to Hades who was standing nearby. “I’m sorry I lied about Hermes. It was immature and reckless.”

Hades paused, then nodded. “I appreciate that. No hard feelings, though I’m more annoyed that Hermes exploited your kindness.”

“He’s loyal, if nothing else,” she said, managing a small laugh.

Hades’ mouth quirked. “A meddlesome imp, more like.”

Persephone’s smile faltered, but she pressed on. “I mean it—I jeopardized everything. Underworld Unlimited deserves better.”

His eyes softened, but the tick of his jaw betrayed lingering tension. “All is forgiven, Sephy,” he said, though she couldn’t help but wonder if he truly meant it.

Was he angry that she hadn’t opened up to him? He told her afterwards that Hermes immediately spilled out the whole truth. If Hermes had no problem telling him, shouldn’t she have confessed when he first asked? But if she’d asked Hermes to keep a secret for her, she knew he would’ve, damn the consequences.

Strangely enough, she cared about how Hades felt about her sneaking Hermes into the office. And when faced with the reality of what could have happened to the rest of the team if security was breached by someone nefarious, her palms sweated. Wasn’t she better at thinking these things through?

“Thank you. I’m glad we talked about this,” she said. Regret coiled around her chest, and she swore she felt the inkling of her magic stirring within her.

The next week, before Hades and Persephone’s first interview, flew by in a rush of meetings, presentations, and media training. Although that last bit was for Persephone only; Hades went off somewhere else during those sessions. It might’ve been the only real time he got to fulfill his other duties. How he had managed to keep Underworld Unlimited humming along while giving the lion’s share of his attention to Flowers Near Me , she had no clue.

Today, they both waited in the green room for the producers to summon them for their first interview. The headache Persephone had woken up with that morning pounded in her temple, so she’d drunk enough coffee and water to kill a camel.

Hades squeezed her hand. “Something bothering you?”

“Oh, this headache. I can’t get it to go away,” she answered.

Two lines formed between his brows. “Let me check you.”

She nodded. He grazed her temples with his fingertips, and she closed her eyes at the touch. More than the smell of his power filled her senses—she could feel a cool wave coat her skin. The pain in her head subsided as the chill on her brow turned to warmth.

“Any better?” Hades asked.

“Yes, thank you. What did you do?”

“I blessed you. It doesn’t always work on pain, but I’m pleased to know it did this time.”

A knock on their door and a producer shouted, “They’re ready for you!”

Persephone and Hades got up from the couch. As Persephone reached behind her to pocket her phone, she saw tiny green buds sprouting from the cushion.

Bending down, she brushed her hand over the tiny sprigs, and they grew into full poppy blooms.

“ Titans ,” she hissed and snap her attention to Hades. “Why is this happening?”

Hades tilted his head to get a look and let out a light chuckle. “You’re blossoming.” He smiled at her, but her glare had him clarifying, “I don’t know why, but they’re impressive. No minor goddess could conjure a living thing like this from nothing. By the Fates, I’m not certain my brothers or I could either.”

It was quite the compliment coming from a powerful god, but that didn’t mean it was true. She reached for her power, imagining it centered in her heart, and only felt a dull buzz. Did it even matter if she had magic or not if she couldn’t harness it?

Persephone’s face hurt from laughing during the morning interview. It turned out that the first reporter they spoke with was a former classmate of hers from grade school. During media training, Persephone thought the photo of the woman looked familiar but didn’t recognize her last name. As soon as she went to greet Persephone on set, she gave her maiden name and it clicked.

With more energy than she had at the start of the day, Persephone went back to the green room to gather her bag and thermos. Halfway slumped on the couch—which still had a garden of poppies blooming on it—was a passed-out crew member.

“Oh Fates!” She rushed to the crew member’s side to check her face. Thankfully, she was still breathing, but despite Persephone shaking the woman’s shoulders and calling to her, she didn’t wake.

“Help!” she shouted, and Hades appeared next to her.

“Hades, I can’t get her to wake up. Are there medics here?”

Hades narrowed his eyes on the unconscious crew member, then placed his palm on her cheek. “She’s alive, but…” He sniffed the air and pursed his lips. “I think she’s been poisoned.”

“ Oh Fates… oh Fates … I’ll call the hospital.” Fumbling with her phone, she dialed the emergency number. As she relayed the scene to the dispatcher and flagged down a producer—who knew the studio’s address—Hades moved the unconscious woman to a different couch, away from the poppy-covered one.

The producer checked on his crew mate, then stared at the poppies. “Why is the furniture covered in flowers?” He stepped closer to examine them, but his legs buckled beneath him, and he crumpled to the floor.

Persephone and Hades shot a look at one another.

“It’s the poppies, Sephy. Let’s get both of them out of this room.”

With her phone still pressed to one ear, she nodded. Hades carried out the two studio employees. They waited with the unconscious pair and a small group of staff who’d gathered to check on them before the medics arrived. Within minutes of treatment, both parties were awake and coherent.

In a low whisper, Hades said to Persephone, “Your poppies, Sephy. I think they may emit a poisonous fume.”

“I was worried that was it.” Her face went hot and sweat broke out against her skin. This was terrible. Not only could she not control her magic, but it was the kind that could harm others. She was dangerous. Would this mean she could no longer visit her niece, Helena? How could she trust herself around the girl if she knocked out grown adults? Somehow, both her and Hades were fine. “Why weren’t we affected?”

Hades shrugged. “Well, you’d be immune to your own poison, I’d think, and I’m your soulmate so it wouldn’t harm me.”

“ Hades .” She groaned. “We need to get rid of those flowers, but I don’t know how.”

He caressed her shoulders, then said, “Leave it to me, love.”

Stepping into the green room, he released dark, billowy smoke from his hands and all the poppies turned to dust. Like sand funneling down an hourglass, the remaining powder traveled towards Hades’ shoes. He conjured a glass vial and held it close to the floor. The dusty remnants near his feet gathered in a tornado and flew right into the small glass enclosure. Corking the vial, he handed it to Persephone. “Want to keep it? Poison can come in handy, you know.”

Her mouth flew open. “No! Just get rid of it.”

With a snap, the vial disappeared, and Hades laughed. “Poisonous flowers. That’s quite a gift, little goddess.”

Persephone crossed one arm over her stomach and covered her mouth. I could’ve killed those two people. Bile rose in her throat, but she closed her eyes and tried to will it back down. “They could’ve died.”

“You think so? It looks like they passed out from a sedative. And even if they had, we could’ve fixed that.” Sometimes Persephone forgot that life and death were trivial to the gods, like the flip of a switch. Not Persephone, though. Killing wasn’t in her nature. Or is it?

Was she the opposite of her mother, a force of ruin instead of life?

“Sephy? Let’s call off the next interview and go back home. You’ve been under immense pressure and anyone in your position would need a break.” Hades pushed her hair back from her face, then rubbed her shoulder.

“No. Let’s check on those two and then finish the afternoon interview.” Stopping after the first interview wasn’t an option for her. It would take more than a scare to keep her from completing the workday.

Other than some lingering lightheadedness, both the crew member and producer said they felt fine. Apologies spilled from Persephone, but neither one was upset with her. Their graciousness made her feel worse. Couldn’t they be angry with her? She’d poisoned them, for Fate’s sake. A little anger wouldn’t hurt.

One of the crew members kept repeating that she was honored to be blessed by Olympus’ newest goddess. Sweat beaded on Persephone’s brow at the assertion. She wasn’t a goddess. She was Persephone—the executive who liked gardening, spending time with her sister and niece, and spent too many hours wasting time on her phone. The poppies were a fluke, nothing more. She just needed to remain calm and move past this.