No. Her. And looking at her now—I’ve seen her before. I’ve seen a version of her before. Where?
“It’s not my favorite,” answers Persephone. “But I’m not undressing here.”
A low laugh. “You will if I undress you.”
Not me, then. Why would he even notice me? Why is he here? Heartbreak taps a finger against the glass of my mind. It’s nothing. It won’t get through. “We’re not alone,” scolds Persephone.
“When have I ever given a fuck about that?”
“Such language.”
“Such language,” he repeats, and from the corner of my eye I can see how his hand has gone around her neck, how he’s kissing her. The air is hot, scorching my throat, and a crack appears in the glass. The slow drip of my thoughts gets louder and louder. I saw her in a painting. The woman in the painting in Zeus’s closet must have been of her mother. They’re so alike. Those paintings. They were of Zeus’s family, his brothers—and a sister. It’s a fucked-up calculus that plays out in my head.
“Are you really his brother?” I blurt out. Because if he is, and if that woman in the painting was his sister, and this is her daughter, then—
“Tell me.” The excruciating sharpness of his voice draws my attention back to his face again. “Do I look like Zeus? Anything like him?”
It’s hard to swallow. “No.”
“There’s blood spilled between us, but we don’t share any, if that’s what you really want to know. But I don’t think it is.” And I don’t care.
“Where are you taking me?” My own voice is too loud, almost panicked, but I’m not panicked. I’m not anything. The options are limitless, at this point. He could take me to the train station and back to his mountain. I’d just be another man’s property then. Fine. It doesn’t matter. Or he could take me to the airport. Anywhere.
He kisses her again, then breaks it, the movement desultory.
It doesn’t seem to have affected him at all. It’s Persephone who’s panting in his hands, her leg hooked over his, eyes still closed. “Back to Zeus.” His tone says obviously. His tone says where else?
More cracks, spidering out, and I’m just now realizing how far away I’ve pushed the world since the tires on that van blew out underneath us. Since that mirror rose up to meet my head. “You don’t have to do that. You could take me to the airport.”
He laughs, and it’s the opposite side of the coin from Zeus’s laugh—dark and cruel, a sound edged in pain, nothing hiding it. “My home has already been damaged enough by my brother’s tantrums. I’m not going to put his runaway whore on a plane.”
Persephone opens her eyes at this and glares at Hades, one small hand reaching up to turn his face toward hers. She doesn’t say a word. They only look at each other. My jealousy is deep enough to swallow me whole. I wish it would.
He leans in and kisses her again, so vicious it’s almost a bite, but before it’s over it’s turned soft somehow. Impossible. This man could never be soft. All the things I’ve ever heard about him jostle in my mind. That he’s a killer. That he hurts people. Ruthless. Unforgiving. But seeing him now, I know there’s one exception, and it’s Persephone, and I will, never, never be that exception for Zeus.
I clear my throat, warnings beating their fists on the glass shield that’s become my mind. It distorts everything, rendering it silent and impassable. I should be running. Or screaming. Opening the door and tumbling out onto the street should be better. They both look at me, Persephone resting her head on his shoulder, a certain pity in her eyes.
“We can’t take you to the airport.” Her voice is so soft, and I just—I can’t fathom it, how the two of them can be together. I can picture her in a white dress, in a field of flowers. He would never belong there.
“Why?” I only need enough money for a plane ticket. That amount would be nothing to Hades.
He’s only slightly less vicious this time, voice even. “I owe him.”
I can’t imagine this man owing anyone anything. “For what?”
“I ruined one of his shirts.” Persephone’s hand, already tucked in the front of his suit jacket, tightens. “Now we’re even.”
6
Brigit
The SUV pulls up to the curb in front of the brothel. I wasn’t paying attention. I wasn’t looking during the long drive back.
And now there’s no more time.
I feel the distant urge to argue, to demand more answers, but it’s so far away. The most I can muster is a quiet “Don’t do this.”
I hate myself.
Hades doesn’t seem to hear. He opens the door and lets his dog out first. Before he can reach back for Persephone she’s scrambled across the open space toward me. It strikes me how ridiculous I look, with this bouquet and this dress and this hair. I don’t look like myself. I’m not myself. I may never be myself again. She takes my hands around the bouquet. “Listen.” I can’t do anything but listen. “He wouldn’t have sent us if he didn’t care.”
I’ve never heard a laugh so hollow as the one that comes out of my mouth. “How could you say that?”
A frown flickers over her face, and she turns her head slightly away from the flowers. “I promise you. If you were anyone else, he would never—”
“Persephone,” says Hades, and she reacts without hesitation, dropping my hands and going to him, and this is all so wrong, how could she, how could they, I would rather be on the street, I would rather be hunted down by my uncle than be brought back to this man, I can’t stand it—
Why is Hades pulling her out of the way, stepping in front of her? His face betrays nothing, not concern or fear, but his dog moves in front of both of them, hackles rising. I can’t breathe. If only breathing were optional. A light summer breeze carries in the sound of the front doors of the building bursting open, and then—
It’s not the first time I’ve seen Zeus outside in the sun, but it is the first time I’ve seen him moving like this, quickly, focused, so focused that Reya is running to keep up with him. She pulls at his elbow, trying to stop him, saying something. Frantic. She’s frantic.
And that’s when the thick glass blocking everything out, keeping all of my feelings away, shatters. Break in case of emergency. The golden-eyed man stalking toward the SUV with his jacket unbuttoned and his face unreadable is an emergency. If he’s not, then I don’t know what is.
My body breaks itself out of its deep freeze as he’s taking the final steps to the SUV and I run, like a fool, like an animal, toward the door. My foot twists under me. One shoe comes off. And I end up with my back against the door. Only I can’t open it. I don’t have any free hands. I’m too busy holding the bouquet.
Zeus wrenches the other door farther open, pushing it back with one hand, so hard that something inside of it snaps. The metal groans, and I scream. I can’t get out. “Get out of the fucking car.”
“No,” I howl back. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I hate you.”