“Persephone,” she said, coming around the desk. She wore a navy cargo dress with gold zippers. “It’s good to see you again.”
The girl’s name was Valerie. Persephone remembered her from her interview.
“Let me take you back. Demetri is expecting you.”
Valerie directed Persephone to the newsroom, which was beyond the glass partition. There, several metal and glass desks were arranged in perfect lines across the floor. There was a flurry of activity—phones ringing, paper shuffling, keys tapping as writers and editors pounded out their next article. The smell of coffee was strong, like the whole place ran on caffeine and ink. Persephone’s heart thudded in her chest with the thrill of it all.
“I saw you were from New Athens University,” Valerie said. “When do you graduate?”
“In six months,” Persephone chimed. She’d dreamed of the moment she’d walk across that grand stage to receive her degree. It would be the pinnacle of her time among mortals.
“You must be so excited.”
“I am,” Persephone responded and glanced at Valerie.
“What about you?” Persephone asked. “When do you graduate?”
“In a couple years,” Valerie said.
“And how long have you been here?”
“About a year,” she said with a smile.
“Do you plan to stay when you graduate?”
“In the building, yes, just a few floors up.”
Ah, she bet Zeus’s marketing company had sourced her.
Valerie knocked on the open door of an office at the very back of the room.
“Demetri, Persephone’s here.”
“Thanks, Valerie,” Demetri said.
The girl turned to the goddess, smiled, and left, allowing room for her to enter the office. Persephone’s new boss was Demetri Aetos. He was older, but it was clear he had been a heartbreaker in his prime. His hair was short on the sides, longer on top, and flecked with grey. He wore black-framed glasses, which gave him a scholarly air. He had what Persephone would consider delicate features—thin lips and a smaller nose. He was tall, but thin. He wore a blue button up, khaki slacks, and a polka dot bowtie.
“Persephone,” he said, coming around his desk and stretching out his hand. She took it. “It’s good to see you again. We are happy to have you.”
“I’m happy to be here, Mr. Aetos,” she said.
“Call me Demetri.”
“Okay…Demetri.” She couldn’t help smiling.
“Please, sit!” He indicated to a chair, and she took a seat. Demetri leaned against his desk, hands in his pockets. “Tell me about yourself.”
When Persephone had first moved here, she hated this question, because there was a point when all she could talk about was her fears—closed spaces, being trapped, escalators. Overtime, though, she’d had enough experiences, it had become easier to define herself by what she liked.
“Well, I’m a student at New Athens University. I’m majoring in journalism and I’ll graduate in May...” she started, and Demetri waved his hand.
“Not what’s on your resume.” He met her gaze, and she noticed that he had blue eyes. He smiled. “What about you—your hobbies, interests…?”
“Oh,” she blushed, thought for a moment and then said, “I like baking. It helps me relax.”
“Oh? Tell me more. What do you like to bake?”
“Anything really. I’ve been challenging myself at sugar cookie art.”
His brows rose and his smile stayed. “Sugar cookie art, huh? That’s a thing?”
“Yes, I’ll show you.”
She pulled out her phone and found a few photos. Of course, she had only taken pictures of her best cookies.
Demetri looked at the photos. “Oh, nice,” he said. “These are great, Persephone.”
He met her gaze as he returned her phone.
“Thank you.” No one but Lexa had ever told her that.
“So, you like to bake. What else?”
“I like to write,” she said. “Stories.”
“Stories? Like fiction?”
“Yes.”
“Romance?” he guessed. It was what most people assumed, and the blush on Persephone’s cheeks wasn’t helping her case.
“No, actually. I like mysteries.”
Demetri’s brows rose again, almost meeting his hairline. “Unexpected,” he said. “I like it. What do you hope to gain from this internship?”
“Adventure,” she couldn’t help it. The word slipped out, but Demetri seemed pleased.
“Adventure,” he said, pushing away from his desk. “If adventure is what you desire, New Athens News can give it to you, Persephone. This position can look like anything you wish—it’s yours to craft and manage. If you want to report, you can report. If you want to edit, you can edit. If you want to get coffee, you get coffee.”
Persephone only had an interest in getting coffee for herself. She didn’t think she could be any more excited, but as Demetri spoke, she had the overwhelming feeling that this internship would change her life.
“I’m sure you know that we find ourselves in the media a lot,” he smiled wryly. “Ironic, considering we are a news source.”
New Athens News was well-known for the number of lawsuits filed against them. There were always complaints of defamation, slander, and invasion of privacy. Believe it or not, those weren’t the worst accusations leveled against the company. Apollo had accused them of being members of Triad, a group of Impious mortals who actively organized against the gods, supporting fairness, freewill, and freedom. The newspaper had denied the claim, of course, as Zeus had declared Triad a terrorist organization, and threatened death to any caught with their propaganda.
What Zeus hadn’t anticipated—or perhaps had—was that the Faithful organized into cults and started a manhunt of their own, killing several who were openly Impious, uncaring if they were associated with Triad or not. It was a horrific time and it took Zeus longer than necessary to come out against the cults. New Athens News said so themselves.
“We seek truth, Persephone,” Demetri said. “There’s power in truth. Do you want power?”
He didn’t even know what he was asking.
“Yes,” she said. “I want power.”
This time when Demetri smiled, he showed his teeth. “Then you will do well here.”
Demetri showed Persephone to her desk, which sat just outside his office. She settled in, checking drawers, noting what supplies she would need to ask for or buy, and stored her purse. A new laptop sat on top. It was cool to the touch, and as she opened it, the dark screen reflected the face of a man. She turned in her chair and met a set of wide, surprised eyes.
“Adonis,” she said.
“Persephone.” He clutched a cup of coffee in one hand, and wore a lavender button up. He looked just as handsome as he did last night, only more professional. “I had no idea you were our new intern.”
“I had no idea you worked here,” she said.
“I’m a senior reporter, mostly focused on entertainment,” he said rather smugly. “We missed you when you left last night.”