The goddess? Was Minthe referring to her?
Hades eyes darkened at the nymph’s comment. “I do not care what others think of me, and that includes you, Minthe.” The nymph’s face fell, and Hades continued, “I will hear her offer, Minthe.”
The nymph said nothing, and turned on her heels, walking out of sight. After a moment, a woman entered Hades’ office. She wore a beige trench coat, a large sweater, and jeans. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Despite being fairly young, she looked exhausted and Persephone didn’t need Hades’ powers to know that whatever burden she carried at this point in her life was heavy.
When the woman saw the god, she froze.
“You have nothing to fear,” Hades said, that warm baritone soothed, and the mortal was able to move again.
She offered a small, nervous laugh, and when she spoke her voice was rough.
“I told myself I wouldn’t hesitate,” she said. “I wouldn’t let fear get the best of me.”
Hades tilted his head to the side. Persephone knew that look—he was curious. “But you have been afraid. For a very long time.”
The woman nodded, and tears spilled down her face. She brushed at them fiercely, hands shaking. She offered that nervous laugh again. “I told myself I wouldn’t cry, either.”
“Why?”
Persephone was glad that Hades asked, because she was just as curious. When the woman met the god’s gaze, she was serious, her face still glistened with tears.
“The Divine are not moved by my pain.”
Persephone flinched—Hades did not.
“I suppose I cannot blame you,” the woman continued. “I am one in a million pleading for myself.”
Again, Hades tilted his head. “But you are not pleading for yourself, are you?”
The woman’s mouth quivered, and she answered in a whisper, “No.”
“Tell me,” he coaxed—it was like a spell, and the woman obeyed.
“My daughter.” The words were a sob. “She’s sick. Pineoblastoma. It’s an aggressive cancer. I wager my life for hers.”
“No!” Persephone said out loud, and Hermes quickly hushed her, but all she could think was—he can’t! He won’t!
Hades studied the woman for a long moment. “My wagers are not for souls like you,” he said.
Persephone started forward. She would come out of this mirror and fight for that woman, but Hermes held onto her shoulder tight.
“Wait,” he commanded.
Persephone held her breath.
“Please,” the woman whispered. “I will give you anything—whatever you want.”
Hades dared to laugh. “You could not give me what I want.”
The woman stared, and Persephone’s heart wrenched at the look in the woman’s eyes. She was defeated. The woman hung her head, and her shoulders shook as she sobbed into her hands.
“You were my last hope. My last hope.”
Hades approached her, placed his fingers under her chin, and lifted her head. After he brushed her tears away, he said, “I will not enter into a contract with you because I do not wish to take from you,” he said. “That does not mean I will not help you.”
The woman was shocked—Persephone was shocked, and Hermes chuckled under his breath.
“Your daughter has my favor. She will be well and just as brave as her mother, I think.”