Page 49 of Hades and Persephone: Threads of Fate

His brows furrow. “Impossible.”

They’re messing with me. They have to be messing with me. The thought stings, because after everything I confessed to Minthe this morning, this feels like the worst kind of betrayal right now.

Pulling in a shaky breath that stings of sharp emotion, I take a quick step back. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m uncomfortable. I don’t want—I don’t think Hades would want me here.”

“I will never hurt you.” Instead of the surge of insecurity and hesitation, an overwhelming sense of trust and soothing comfort floods me. I have enough sense to wonder if it is my own, but I am incapable of producing suspicion even as I know I should.

I’m so confused right now.

“I—” I shake my head. Lifting fingertips to my temples, I rub. “I don’t feel well.”

“Is it happening again?” Minthe asks softly, moving closer.

“Don’t touch me.” I force my voice to soften at the hurt that paints her expression. God, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Half of me wonders if I’ve imagined their bizarre exchange, because it doesn’t make sense.Nothing makes sense anymore.

“Persephone?” Minthe soothes.

“I don’t know. Just—” I meet her eyes with my own, pleading, “Take me back to Hades. Please.”

Herman takes a step closer. Oddly, comfort oozesfrom the man. A kind of comfort that is very different from the predator I first sensed when I met him at the gala.

His voice is soft, his brown eyes are the same as he peers into my own. I’m struck then by how handsome he is, in a way that is entirely different from Hades’ rough, darkly powerful attraction. “Minthe tells me you’ve been experiencing some anomalies with your—,” he considers and says, “thoughts. That you think there is a possibility there is something wrong with your brain. Something, perhaps, growing where it should not be growing.”

I can’t help myself; I nod. But I’m unable to force the words from where they sit on my tongue.

He blinks slowly. I’ve never analyzed a blink in my life, but this blink feels like a soft touch. A gentle caress. His voice matches the soothing lilt to that blink. “I would like to help you put these fears to rest.”

I croak, “H—how?”

“With your consent, I would like to do a full body and head CT scan.” His eyes drop to my quivering lips. I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of sanity, a moment from slipping to a deadly fall I’ll never come back from.

“What if there is something? Something gr—growing?”

“We will cross that bridge when—if—we get there.” He smiles gently. “What do you say, Persephone?”

I say nothing. I can’t find the words. But when I nod, Minthe takes my hand in hers, holding me like I’mnotbreakable, and for that, I’ll forever be thankful to her.

She squeezes my hand, and I squeeze hers. With strength.

Chapter

Twenty-Two

Persephone

I’mon pins and needles as we wait for the results of the scan. Herman offered to call with the results, but I’ve come this far. I’m not willing to walk away when I’m so close to the possibility of finally getting an answer for my madness.

Now, we sit in Herman’s office. It’s a moderately sized room with what looks like ancient comforts. There is nothing sleek and modern about the design of his space. Stone carved figurines of the ancient gods are placed throughout the room on shelves, as one might place photographs of family members. The suede couches sit on frames of carved wood withcurling designs and walls of tomes, the spines cracked with age, have been squeezed into tightly packed shelves.

I can see where Hades gets his obsession with the ancient gods of myth. It’s clearly a family thing. I can only imagine how fanatical their parents are.

“Yes,” Herman says into the phone. “I’ll be right there.”

I watch as he disconnects, slipping the phone into his pocket as he rises from the chair behind his desk. He moves as though without a care to a large safe in the wall, inputting a massive pin before scanning the print of his hand, and then his eye. The mechanical system emits a faint hum, a few sharp clicks, and then opens to display a floor to ceiling shelf of coins. Yes, coins. Copper, silver, and gold coins glitter in the low light of the room, and I gape as I watch Herman select a single gold coin from the pile.

Minthe gasps, “A child.”

Herman closes the door, pocketing the coin. “The Moirai do not discriminate when they cut death’s thread.” He looks upset, the picture of a helpless man as his jaw clenches. “A quick passage is all I can ensure him as his soul works to find Charon.”

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