Percy Jackson's Greek Gods (Percy Jackson and the Olympians companion #5.5) - Rick Riordan Page 0,38

that I took you for my wife.”

“Ha!” Persephone’s heart soared. “Oh, you’re in so much trouble. She’s on her way down here right now with an army of angry nymphs and grain spirits, isn’t she?”

“No,” Hades said.

Persephone blinked. “No?”

“She will not cross into the Underworld,” Hades said. “She hates it here. She hates me.”

“Of course she does!” Persephone said, though she was a little disappointed. She’d been counting on her mom to rescue her. Surely Demeter would come get her personally, whether or not she hated the Underworld. “But…I’m confused. What were you saying about mortals dying?”

Hades grimaced. “Your mother is trying to force Zeus into getting you back. Demeter is starving the entire world, letting thousands of people die until you are returned to her.”

Persephone almost fell over. Her mother was doing what?

Demeter had always been so gentle and kind. Persephone couldn’t imagine her mom letting a corn plant die, much less thousands of people. But something told her that Hades wasn’t lying.

Persephone’s eyes stung. She wasn’t sure if she was sad or angry or just sick to her stomach. Thousands of mortals were dying because of her?

“You must return me,” Persephone said. “Immediately.”

Hades clenched his jaw. For the first time he didn’t look mopey or weak. He met her gaze. His dark eyes flared with purple fire.

“You are my very existence now,” Hades said. “You are more precious to me than all the jewels under the earth. I’m sorry you do not love me, but I will be a good husband to you. I’ll do everything I can to make you happy. I will not return you. If I must, I will counter Demeter’s attack. I will open the gates of the Underworld and let the dead flood back into the world rather than release you!”

Persephone didn’t know what to do with that information. Her heart felt like it was compressing into a tiny jewel, as bright and hard as a diamond.

She turned and fled. She ran down a corridor she’d never explored before, opened a doorway, and stepped out into…a garden.

She couldn’t breathe. It was the most incredible place she had ever seen. Ghostly warm lights floated overhead—perhaps the souls of particularly sunny dead people? She wasn’t sure, but the garden was warmer and brighter than anywhere else in the Underworld. Beautiful subterranean flowers glowed in the dark. Orchards of carefully pruned trees bore sweet-smelling blooms and neon-bright fruit.

The paths were sculpted with rubies and topaz. White birch trees soared into the air like frozen ghosts. A brook wended through the middle of the garden. On a nearby table sat a silver tray with a frosted decanter of nectar, along with Persephone’s favorite cookies and fresh fruits.

She couldn’t understand what she was seeing. All the flowers and trees she loved best from the upper world were here in this garden, somehow blooming and flourishing in the darkness.

“What…?” She couldn’t form a sentence. “How—”

“Do you like it?” Hades spoke just behind her. He’d followed her outside, and for once his voice didn’t make her cringe.

She turned and saw a tiny smile on his face. He didn’t look so horrible when he smiled.

“You—you did this for me?”

He shrugged. “I’m sorry it wasn’t ready sooner. I gathered the best gardeners in the Underworld. Askalaphos! Where are you?”

A thin young man appeared from the bushes. He had gardening shears in his hand. He was obviously one of the dead, judging from his papery skin and the yellowish tinge in his eyes, but he managed a smile. He somehow looked more alert than the other zombies Persephone had met.

“Just pruning the roses, my lord,” said Askalaphos. “My lady, a pleasure to meet you.”

Persephone knew she should say something, like hello, but she was too stunned.

Just then a winged gargoyle flew into the garden. It whispered something in Hades’s ear, and the god’s face grew stern. “A visitor,” he said. “Excuse me, my dear.”

When he was gone, Askalaphos gestured to the patio table. “My lady, would you like something to eat?”

“No,” Persephone said automatically. Despite everything, she knew she shouldn’t accept the hospitality of a god who had kidnapped her.

“Suit yourself,” said the gardener. “I just picked these ripe pomegranates, though. They’re amazing.”

He pulled one from his coveralls and set it on the table, then cut the fruit into three parts with his knife. Hundreds of juicy purple-red seeds glistened inside.

Now personally, I’m not a big pomegranate fan, but Persephone loved them. They reminded her of her happiest moments aboveground, frolicking in the