Page 7 of Tempted By Hades

She paused, her expression thoughtful, before gently wiggling her fingers at the plant. In response, the star-of-Bethlehem came to life, its white flowers unfurling further, the plant blooming in appreciation.

He contained his surprise at the open display of power; she apparently had also picked up on his divine nature. “Interesting,” he said, not bothering to hide the double meaning in his tone.

“This plant,” she continued, her eyes glinting with a spark of mischief, “has a way of brightening even the gloomiest corners of a garden. It’s resilient and thrives in various conditions. While it’s not the asphodel, it shares its spirit.”

The plant seemed to revel in her touch and pulsed with vitality under her attention, its leaves unfurling and flowers blooming as if in response to her melodic voice.

He snapped back to the present, realizing that Persephone had been speaking, asking him for his thoughts on the plants displayed on the shelf. He looked at her, his gaze meeting hers, and he offered a faint, appreciative smile.

“They are beautiful,” he acknowledged, his voice carrying a touch of genuine admiration. “But it’s not quite what I’m looking for.”

Her brows furrowed slightly, concern flickering in her eyes. “I see,” she replied, her tone thoughtful. “I’ll have to find the asphodel for you. It might take some time, but I’m sure I can find it.”

She started walking back toward the front of the shop, and her steps slowed as she noticed a pink princess philodendron that looked droopy. He followed her, and his eyes fell on the display next to her stocked with colorful stickers. He picked one up, his lips quirking into a faint, amused smile.

“We’re mint to be,” he read aloud from the sticker.

“What?” she replied, her gaze moving from the plant she was looking over to Hades.

Hades raised the sticker, indicating the words. “This,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “The sticker. It’s a pun.”

Persephone’s confusion lifted, and she chuckled. “Oh, yeah,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “I love plant puns. Customers seem to enjoy these stickers too.”

He was intrigued by her smile, finding a certain warmth in her laughter. Yet, his attention was momentarily diverted by the smudge of soil on her face. He felt an impulse to wipe it away, an act that felt oddly intimate considering the circumstances.

“There’s some soil on your face. May I?” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. Without waiting for her response, he extended his hand, his fingertips lightly brushing the smudge away, a fleeting touch that lingered in the air for a moment longer than necessary.

Persephone paused, her cheeks tinged with a delicate shade of pink. “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Clearing the unexpected hitch in his throat, he managed to say, “You’re welcome. So, I shall be back in a few days to get an update on what you find about the asphodel.”

“Of course. I’ll see you then.”

There was a hesitation in his step Hades had never felt before as he turned away from her, but he managed to overcome it. As soon as he stepped out of the shop, the chaos of New York once again assaulted his senses.

It was tempting to head back to the Underworld to escape the madness, but he was not quite ready to make the trip back yet. And so, he sought respite where most divine beings went when in search of something familiar in the Upperworld. Such locations were strewn across the globe, welcoming gods, divine beings, and supernatural entities into their embrace while warding off mortals.

In the case of New York City, this place was, thankfully, only a few blocks away. This did not surprise him in the least, as gods and goddesses often converged in the same area.

After a quick ten-minute walk, he stepped into the dimly lit bar, a relic from the Prohibition era that had transcended time. He wasn’t sure what the name of this place was as there was no signboard outside, but he just knew this was the place. The atmosphere was thick with an air of mystery, the echoes of laughter and murmured conversations intermingling with the soulful notes of jazz music. The walls were adorned with intricate designs, the golden hues casting a warm glow upon the patrons seated at the elegant, mahogany bar.

The bar was a masterpiece of art deco design, a symphony of sleek lines, polished surfaces, and embellishments that spoke of an era long past. The walls were adorned with geometric patterns, where gilded mirrors and shimmering glass panels created an illusion of infinite space. The lighting, soft and indirect, cast a warm glow over the patrons, accentuating the gold and deep mahogany tones that dominated the decor.

The bar itself, a grand structure stretching the length of the room, was a marvel of craftsmanship. Its smooth, lacquered surface gleamed under the soft light, reflecting the years of polish and care. A row of brass footrests adorned its base, adding a touch of luxury to the already elegant establishment.

The stools, upholstered in rich, velvety fabric, were arranged neatly along the bar. Each stool had a small, engraved nameplate, indicating the favored spot of regular patrons who had made this place their own. The patrons themselves were a diverse array of gods, spirits, and creatures from myths and legends—each one adding a unique aura to the atmosphere.

Above, a chandelier hung like a radiant constellation, its glass crystals refracting the light into a myriad of colors that danced across the room. The bar shelves were lined with bottles of rare spirits, their labels bearing names from forgotten civilizations and distant lands to popular spirits known to mortals.

On the far end of the bar, a stage stood with a grand piano, its polished surface reflecting the soft glow of the lights. Occasionally, a talented musician would grace the stage, filling the air with melodies that seemed to resonate across time.

Hades approached the bar, his eyes meeting the gaze of the bartender—a cyclops with a weathered face and a single, piercing eye that seemed to see through the ages. The cyclops smiled, a warm and familiar gesture that stretched across his face, revealing a genuine sense of camaraderie.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Lord Hades himself,” the cyclops said, his deep voice resonating in the air. “Haven’t seen you in these parts for decades. What brings the Lord of the Underworld to our humble establishment tonight?”

He returned the smile, appreciating the bartender’s welcoming demeanor. “Seeking a bit of respite from the divine realm.”

The cyclops nodded understandingly, his eye twinkling with ancient wisdom. “You’ve come to the right place,” he said, reaching for a polished glass. “This bar has seen its share of gods and goddesses, each with their tales to tell. A drink, Lord Hades?”

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