Persephone smiled at her husband who was far from a sociable entity. Tall and muscular with black hair and eyes, he was gorgeous, even when befuddled and angry. "Wait here." She opened the door to the cell and made her way slowly to the unknown god.
The closer she moved toward him, the more she understood Hades's concern. There was so much power emanating from the god that the air was rife with it. She'd been around the gods her whole life, but this one was different. His marbled blue skin was strangely attractive as it covered a body of perfect proportions. Long black hair fanned out. He had two black horns on top of his head and black lips and claws.
And more than that, he wasn't a god of creation. He was one of ultimate destruction.
Seph, get out of there.
She held her hand up to signal her husband that she was fine. Her legs trembling in trepidation, she reached out to touch the god.
He opened his eyes that were a yellow orange encircled by red. They flashed from that to a swirling silver color. And they were filled with raw anguish.
"Am I dead?" he asked, his voice demonic.
"You want to be dead?" She actually dreaded his answer because if he didn't want to be dead, there could be serious consequences.
"Please tell me I've finally made it."
Those desperate words tugged at her heart. Reaching up to comfort him, she brushed the black hair back from his blue cheek. "You're dead, but as a god you live."
"I don't understand. I don't want to be any different than anyone else. I just want to be left alone."
Persephone smiled at him. "You can stay here as long as you want." She summoned a pillow for him and tucked it under his head. Then she covered him with a blanket.
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
"Because you seem to need it." She patted him on the arm before she got up. "If you need anything, I'm Persephone. My husband, Hades, is the one in charge here. You call for us and we'll come."
He gave a subtle nod before he closed his eyes and returned to lying quietly in the darkness.
Mystified by him, she returned to her husband. "He's harmless."
"Harmless, my ass. Seph? Are you insane? Can you not feel the powers he holds?"
"Oh I feel them. Go near him and you'll have nightmares. But he doesn't want anything. He's hurt, Hades. Badly. All he wants is to be left alone."
"Yeah, right. Left alone here in my Underworld? Another god whose powers rival mine? Fuck that. They trump mine. How stupid would I have to be? You know there's a reason pantheons don't mix."
"You can ally him," she said, trying to calm him down. "Having a friend is never a bad thing."
"Until the friend turns on you."
She shook her head. "Hades . . ."
"I'm a lot older than you, Seph. I've seen what can happen when one god turns on another."
"And I think he poses no harm to either of us." She lifted herself up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "I have to go before my mother finds me missing. You know how she gets when I see you during her time with me."
"Yeah and a pox on the—"
She pinched his lips together before he could let fly the insult. "I love you both. Now behave and take care of your guest."
Only his wife could get away with treating him like this and being so cavalier with his body. But then she held his heart and he'd give her anything.
He kissed her finger. "I miss you."
"I miss you too. I'll be home soon."
Soon, yeah . . . right.
But there was nothing to be done about that.
He nodded glumly, then cursed as she faded away from him. Damn the bitch, Demeter, for cursing them to live apart half the year. But right now he had bigger problems than his wife's mother.
And at about six foot eight, that god-killer was definitely one big problem.
June 25, 9527 BC
Didymos
With the icy wind twisting her ghostly pale hair around her and plastering her black gown to her limbs, Apollymi staggered on the rocks of the sea where Apostolos's body rested in a broken heap. Her precious son had been dumped here as if he were nothing.
Nothing . . .
Unshed tears racked her. She was so cold inside. So defeated. So . . . There were no words to describe the anguish of her seeing her son's body lying face down in the water, abandoned and forgotten.
Thrown away.
After all they'd done to him, they couldn't even provide a decent funeral.
Weak from her grief, she sank to her knees in a pool of water and pulled him from the rocks to the beach. Unable to stand it, she screamed out, sending birds into flight.
"Apostolos!"
But he couldn't hear her. His body was as cold as her heart. His silver eyes were open and glazed, and even now, they swirled like a stormy sky. Yet for all the horror of his death, his features were serene.
And they were beautiful. More so than any mother could have hoped for. She saw in his face, herself. Saw her hopes for him made real. He was so perfectly formed. So tall and strong . . .
And they had butchered him. Tortured him. Defiled and humiliated her son. Her precious baby.