“I am Persephone,” she said. “Am I correct in understanding that you wish to speak to Lord Hades?”
“I demand it!”
Persephone’s brow rose a little.
“What are your grievances?”
“My grievances? You want to hear my grievances? Where do I start? First, the apartment he put me in is a shithole.”
Now she was confused.
“Second, I won’t work another minute at that hellhole of a fucking nightclub—”
Persephone held up her hand to stop the nymph from talking. “I’m sorry. Who are you again?”
The woman lifted her chin, her chest rose as she spoke with misplaced pride. “I am Leuce, Hades’ lover.”
Persephone felt the color drain from her face and shock settled deep in her belly.
“Excuse me?”
The nymph chuckled like she had said something funny. Persephone’s fingers curled into fists.
“Sorry, ex-lover but it’s all the same.”
“Ex...lover?” She said through her teeth, tilting her head to the side.
“You have nothing to worry about,” Leuce said. “It was so long ago.”
“So long ago that you forgot and introduced yourself as Hades’ lover?” Persephone asked.
“Honest mistake.”
“You’ll forgive me if I believe there was nothing honest about it.”
She twisted toward Mekonnen. “Please show Leuce to Hades’ office. I’ll see that he’s along shortly.”
“Yes, my lady,” Mekonnen bowed, and added. “He’s in the lounge.”
“Thank you,” she replied warmly, though her whole body felt like ice.
Persephone made her way into Nevernight. She went right up the stairs to the lounge where Hades made wagers with mortals seeking more from life—love, money, health. It was these bargains that had both appalled and intrigued her. It led her to writing about the God of the Dead, and eventually landed her in a contract with him.
Euryale, a gorgon and gatekeeper to the lounge, waited outside. Persephone’s first interaction with the blind woman had been hostile, as the creature had correctly identified her as a goddess based on smell.
“Is Lord Hades in trouble?” Euryale asked. There was amusement in her voice, but also a hint of excitement as the goddess approached.
“More than you could ever know,” Persephone answered.
Euryale smiled, showing a set of blackened teeth. She opened the door without pause and bowed to Persephone as she passed.
“He is in the sapphire suite, my lady.”
Persephone stalked around the crowded card tables. The room was dark despite a large chandelier overhead and several intricate sconces lining the walls. Persephone’s first visit to the suite sealed her fate. She’d been enamored by the people and games, she’d reveled in watching the cards fly across the table, the ease with which men and women interacted and teased, and then she’d come to a poker table where she’d sat and met the King of the Underworld.
Even now, recalling how he’d looked up close for the first time made her stomach clench tight. He was a tangible shadow, built like a fortress, and he’d crashed into her life like a force of nature. She couldn’t shake him and, in truth, hadn’t wanted to. From the moment she’d laid eyes on him, he’d ignited something inside her. It felt like fire, but it was his darkness calling to hers.
She knew that now—felt it in her blood and bones—as she melded with the darkness in the room and found the passage that led to a series of suites where mortals waited to bargain with Hades. They were all named after precious stones—sapphire and emerald and diamond, each one decorated in the associated colors. They were beautiful rooms, offering a sense of grandeur, communicating to all who entered that if they played their cards right—literally—perhaps they, too, could obtain something just as extravagant.