A Touch of Ruin (Hades & Persephone #2) - Scarlett St. Clair Page 0,86
stomach feel sick.
“They think it’s temporary psychosis,” she explained. “It isn’t unusual for patients who have been in the ICU.”
Psychosis. Temporary.
Her relief was immediate. It was probably too much to expect that Lexa would bounce back. Still, Persephone had let her hopes rise. She’d thought that Divine magic would work differently from traditional medicine. That when Apollo talked about miracles, it would mean skipping the recovery, too.
“Persephone, are you alright?” Eliska asked.
The goddess met the mortal’s gaze and nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. Will you...text me when Lexa wakes up?”
“Of course, dear,” she paused, studying her. Whatever Eliska was seeing in Persephone’s expression had her suspicious because she asked again, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
No, Persephone thought. My whole world is falling apart.
She nodded. “Yeah, just...tired.”
She felt silly saying that. Eliska was tired, too. “I understand. I promise to text you as soon as Lexa wakes.”
She reached for Persephone, hugging her close. “I’m so thankful Lexa has a friend like you.”
Persephone swallowed hard, and her eyes watered. Again, Hades words erupted in her mind.
You should know that your actions have condemned Lexa to a fate worse than death.
They’d attached themselves to her, like a leech, hungry for blood. They made her head and heart ache. They made her want to scream.
I am not a good friend. I am not a good lover. I am not a good goddess.
***
Work was awkward.
Persephone didn’t feel comfortable around Demetri since learning about the bargain he’d made with Apollo. To make matters worse, he had resorted to assigning her menial tasks like making copies, verifying another co-worker’s work, and delegated some research he was supposed to do on a privacy law. He’d sent her the to-do list in an email with an end of day deadline, which meant she couldn’t work on any of the stories she had in her queue.
She rapped on Demetri’s open door.
“Have a moment?” she asked when he looked up from his tablet.
“Not really,” he said. “Another time?”
“It’s about the to-do list.”
Demetri took off his glasses and stared at her. “It’s three things, Persephone. How hard can it be?”
His comment flustered her. “It isn’t,” she snapped. “But I have other stories—”
“Not today,” he cut her off. “Today, you have three things to accomplish by five.”
Persephone set her teeth so hard, she thought her jaw might break.
“Close the door as you leave.”
She slammed it. Probably not the best move, but it was better than filling the guy with holes from the thorns she wanted to throw at him. She took a few breaths, deciding it would be best if she just got through the tasks Demetri had assigned.
When she was finished, she could comb through the information she’d received over the last few weeks trying to decide on her next story.
She had several options available to her and a million lines of inquiry, but the information she gravitated toward always included her mother. The Goddess of Harvest should be renamed the Goddess of Divine Punishment because she was definitely fond of torture and her methods were vicious, often forcing mortals into starvation or cursing them with an unquenchable hunger. Now and then, when she was really pissed off, she would create famine, killing off whole populations.
My mother is the worst, Persephone thought.
By the time lunch rolled around, Persephone was entertaining herself with thoughts of writing about Demeter. She could see the headline in black, bold letters:
Nurturing Goddess of Harvest Deprives Whole Populations of Food.
Then she cringed, imagining the fallout.
It was likely Demeter would take revenge and probably in the most devastating way Persephone could imagine—revealing that she was actually Demeter’s daughter.
With that thought, Persephone left the Acropolis and met Sybil at Mithaecus’ Cafe for lunch.
Her mind was chaotic, going in several directions—dwelling on Lexa’s healing and Hades anger, making it hard for her to focus on anything the oracle was saying, which made her feel guilty because Sybil had news.
“I had a job offer this week,” she was saying, which got Persephone’s attention. “From the Cypress Foundation.”
Persephone lit up. “Oh, Sybil! I’m so happy for you.”
“I should be thanking you,” she said. “I’m sure you’re why they picked me.”
She shook her head. “Hades knows talent when he sees it.”
The oracle didn’t look so certain.
Persephone couldn’t explain why, but her excitement for Sybil dwindled quickly, as a heavy feeling settled on her chest. It was a combination of feelings—guilt, hopelessness, and a ton of unspoken feelings.
“I have to hang out with Apollo,” she said abruptly.