Her cheeks redden and she sinks down into the blankets. “Fine. The workers—what do you want me to do, exactly?”
My throat goes tight, an unfamiliar feeling. Caring—fuck. I hate it more than a little. “Tell them that things will be all right. See if anyone needs food or medical attention. Quite a few of them came to the valley, and I—” Almost died. “Someone should make sure that Zeus’s people didn’t do any damage that’s been unaccounted for.”
Persephone sits up tall, brushing her hair back from her face and gathering the blankets to her chest. “I’d rather stay with you.”
“But I need you to go.”
Her eyes widen, and then she looks down and away. She’s been terrified—I know that. And I also know that last time I sent her away, she came back to a living nightmare. I tip her face up so she has to meet my eyes. “Do I look like I’m in dire straits to you?”
Persephone studies my eyes, her lips a flat line and a quiver in her chin. “No. But you’re good at hiding it.”
“Take Conor with you.”
“No. He can’t be away from you. That’s too—”
I give her face a shake, cutting her off. Fuck. It only ever has the opposite effect with her. Wide eyes, pupils huge like she’s taken some sort of drug. As if I could ever be a good drug.
“Take him with you. No more arguments.”
Persephone waits until I let her go before she gets out of bed, stretching her arms above her head and letting the blanket fall away.
She’s naked underneath.
Temptress.
She must want to turn around so badly on her way to the shower, but she doesn’t. Good for her.
Less good that she takes fucking forever. With every passing moment, it’s harder and harder to resist her. Finally she reappears with a swish of fabric and the scent of flowers in springtime. Conor goes to her side like I told him to, and then she lifts her chin, regal in her cream-colored dress, and blows me a kiss.
And I sit down hard in the chair by the window. Watching her walk away is another series of small cuts on the inside of my chest, blades in my lungs.
“Fuck,” I tell the room at large, and then I pick up my phone and dial the last number I had for Poseidon. I never thought I’d use it. And I’m half-hoping that he won’t answer, and then I won’t have to make a deal with a wilder devil than Zeus. Than me. Then again, people starving isn’t a sustainable business plan.
Someone answers in Arabic, and when I give my name and tell him I need to speak to my brother Poseidon there’s an abrupt silence, followed by a clattering like they dropped the fucking phone. The wait stretches out for five minutes then ten, listening to the sound of wind and shouting. Either he still owns this oil tanker or he doesn’t. I rub the back of my hand over my eyes. So many nagging issues. I could kill Demeter if it wouldn’t seriously wound her daughter to do it.
On the other end of the line, there’s a loud bang. I put the phone back to my ear in time to hear Poseidon’s rough voice say, “You’re garbage, you know that? You only ever call when you want something.”
“And you only ever answer when you’re not busy being a war criminal. Last I heard, you were still sinking other ships for fun off the Persian Gulf.”
“Sinking other ships.” Poseidon has a big, echoing laugh that sounds like sea salt and pirate treasure. “Is that what they call it these days? You know, you big fuck, there are rumors about you in the Persian Gulf, too.”
“All good things, I hope.”
He laughs again and it wouldn’t surprise me if he revealed he was on the deck of some slimline historical reproduction with heavy cannons and a death wish. “What do you want, hellraiser?”
“Supplies.” I give him an abridged version of what happened in the valley.
Poseidon whistles. “He’d be a damn fool to blow up the trains. What about Demeter? Did you kill her yet? I’m pretty sure you’re the one who drew that straw.”
The distant urge to defend her doesn’t get close enough to have an effect. “No.” I wish I’d kept Conor here. Persephone, too. “The more pressing issue is that I have people who are going to starve. Or die of various other causes that can be prevented if you take some of my money.”
“I’ll take your woman instead. Even trade. Sins of the mother.” The plastic on the outer edges of the phone snaps in my grip. The whole fucking thing is about to bend in half when Poseidon hisses another laugh. “I’m fucking with you. But I want an addendum.”
“Name it.”
“One favor.”
“Money’s a favor, jackass.”
“Money’s an agreement. A favor is a favor. Take it or leave it. I’ve got some other ships coming up on the port side.” Poseidon’s voice rises with excitement. “Never know what might happen.”
I know what might happen.
“It’s a deal.” Never mind the bruised ribs and the fucked knee. “As long as it’s at night.”
“We’ll protect those pretty eyes of yours. I’ll be there in a week. Try not to die before then, or I’ll collect my favor from your corpse.”
8
Persephone
The factory floor seems like a giant minefield. I stick close to the side walls, Conor between me and the work tables, but all the noise does nothing to block out the memory of what happened here. What almost happened here. It was close—I knew it then, and my heart knows it now. Adrenaline doesn’t know anything except how to make my breath short and my pulse race. “There’s nothing happening,” I tell Conor, fingers resting on his collar.
It’s false, obviously. There’s a lot happening on the factory floor. Jewelry being made. Diamonds being polished and cut. This is where Hades makes his fortune, but where is it going to go? Worry follows at my heels. Without the trains, all of this is stuck on the mountain. How long can we go without money coming in?
And what the hell am I going to do about my mother?
Hades is fine with making this about the fight between him and Zeus, but that’s not really what this is. I can sense it. I can sense my mother’s hand in this the way I used to know when she was about to come home from the greenhouse. A shift in the air. Only this one seems more like the storm that lulled me to sleep last night. I don’t know what I was thinking, following Hades down to that room, but when I woke up again I was back in bed. It could have been a dream.
There’s no time for dreams now.
Conor knows where he’s going, at least. We reach the end of the factory and go in a door off to the side of the main entrance to the mines. This is where they live.
All these people. Here. I thought that most of them went home on the train, but it turns out the people who travel back and forth are a small percentage of the workforce. There are more, hidden away beneath all that rock. I’m a little short of breath at the thought of living so far underground. Do they ever see the sun, or walk on grass?
The hallway narrows then widens again—wide enough for me and Conor to walk alongside three or four other people, if we wanted. Another hallway crosses in front of us and Conor nudges me to the left.