A Touch of Ruin (Hades & Persephone #2) - Scarlett St. Clair Page 0,52
taken over managing Hades’ schedule in Minthe’s…absence.
The phone rang once before he answered.
“Ilias, where is Hades?”
“Indisposed, my lady,” he answered, pausing a moment before asking. “Are you well?”
“Ilias, I’m fine. Tell Hades not to hurt the mortal—”
She was interrupted when another call came through on her phone. She looked at the screen and saw Lexa was calling. She’d probably seen the news and wanted to make sure she was okay.
She sighed. “Ilias, let me call you back. Tell Hades not to hurt that mortal!”
Persephone hung up on the Satyr and answered Lexa’s call.
“Yes, Lex. I’m fine—”
Except, it wasn’t Lexa on the other end.
“Persephone, it’s Jason.”
The hysteria in his voice made her heart race.
“Jaison, why—”
“You need to come to the hospital now.”
“Okay. Okay. What happened?”
“It’s Lexa. They aren’t sure she’ll make it.”
Persephone felt like she’d just had the air sucked from her lungs. Her heart had never felt like this before—irregular and sick, poisoned by a terror so acute she thought it might have stopped.
Lexa’s in the hospital. They aren’t sure she’ll make it.
Suddenly she wondered if this was the start of Apollo’s revenge.
PART II
“The descent into Hell is easy.”
― Virgil, The Aeneid
CHAPTER XII - THE DESCENT INTO HELL
Persephone stayed calm and collected despite the anxiety eating away at the bottom of her stomach. Jaison’s voice echoed in her head, the words he’d spoken felt distant and untrue.
Lexa’s been in an accident. They aren’t sure she will make it.
He had to be mistaken. There was no way their Lexa—her Lexa—was fighting for her life.
“Persephone,” Jaison’s voice shook as he said her name, rooting her in the reality of what he’d just told her. She shook her head and said into the receiver,
“That can’t be true. I just saw her this morning.”
His voice sounded strangled, as if someone were pushing on this throat, stealing his air.
“It happened in front of the Alexandria Tower. She was on her way to work. They said she was crossing the street and someone hit her.”
She felt unsteady. Her body shook uncontrollably.
“I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
She was out of her chair before she hung up the phone, racing from the Acropolis.
Asclepius’ Community Hospital was a modern building made of mirrored glass, blending with the azure sky and dense, white clouds. Inside, the hospital looked more like a hotel than a medical facility. It was bright, clean, and beautiful, but nothing could hide the smell. It was what Persephone always thought of as the smell of sickness—it was the tang of chemicals, the metallic scent of stale water, and the bitter odor of latex. It filled her head and made her dizzy.
She found Jaison on the second floor in the waiting room. He sat in one of the stiff, wooden chairs, leaning forward with his head cradled in his hands, his face shielded by his hair.
“Jaison,” she said his name as she approached. He looked up; eyes wide. Persephone understood his expression because she shared it—they were shocked, helpless, confused.
“Persephone.”
Jaison stood and embraced her. She held him as tight as she could, like she thought he might disappear, too.
“Is she okay?”
It seemed like a ridiculous question given his earlier report, but Persephone wasn’t willing to imagine a world without Lexa, so she asked anyway.
He pulled away; face drawn.
“She’s in surgery. That’s all they’ll tell me. Her parents are on their way. We’ll know more then.”
“How did this happen?”
“She was crossing the street. The driver claims he didn’t see her. Guess he didn’t see that fucking red light either. He was probably texting.”
He sat down then, as if he could no longer stand under the weight of what happened to Lexa, and Persephone joined him. She wasn’t sure what to say because she couldn’t think straight. It was like her mind couldn’t decide how to assess the situation. Part of her wanted to prepare herself for the worst.
If she dies, then it will be your fault. You’ll have manifested it, she scolded herself quickly. She can’t die. She won’t. She’s too young. She has too much to live for.
Except that Persephone knew death personally. It did not discriminate, and anyone could be prey. It all depended on a thread and sometimes a gamble.
“What if...we lose her? What will we do?” Jaison’s question stole Persephone’s breath, and she looked at him.
He leaned forward in his chair again like he might get sick. Instead, he scrubbed his face with his hands. She thought he might be trying to keep his tears at bay, and she could see his eyes