Page 3 of Hades and Persephone: Crown of Souls

“No.” I shake my head, frantic now. “No, no, no. Nononono.” My hand drops from the painting, and I nearly fall as I try to step backwards in the pillows. I fumble and regain my balance, but just barely. I feel dizzy, weak. “I’m Persephone Wheaton, daughter of Thomas and Laura Wheaton. My home is in Alberta, Canada—and Hades—you—youdon’t exist.”

I sound unhinged.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.

My head drops back, my gaze locking on the falling star chandelier that is the ceiling of midnight violet. And it comes to me.

I’ve finally lost my mind.I’ve slipped from the realm of insanity into this—this place of fantasy.

The laugh that splits from the depths of me is consumed by hysterical grief.

Noc whines.

Chapter

Three

Hades

I seeit the moment it happens. The death of hope. The light that flickers from her eyes, dulling thelife. The settling into—the perceived acceptance—of her assumed insanity.

She collapses into herself, her knees hitting the cushion of the bed. She looks delicate beneath the fabric of the shirt I changed her into. My shirt. One with buttons that stretch taut at the top as the shirt falls to bare one pale shoulder that shudders violently on an unhinged sob.

Her hands twist into the soft material of the sheets. The threads weaved from the weeping heart of the small violet buds that bloom at the tip of each needled limb covering the trees that dot the Grove of Persephone.

They bloom only twice a year. Once when she would come to me—to the Underworld. And once when she would leave.

Once to weep with joy and once to weep with grief.

I move fast, not bothering to slow myself to human speed. The secret has been unveiled. Hiding from her now would only serve to harm her.

She gasps when one moment, I’m on the other side of the room where the shadows meet the raining starlight, and in the other, I’m not only in front of her but touching her.

She blinks wide, emerald eyes at me. They glisten with tears that threaten to score the very heart that beats in my chest. I firm my hands on either side of her face, forcing her gaze to mine when she dares to look away.

Firmly, I tell her, “You are not insane. You have not lost touch with realityoryour mind. Not once.” A tear falls from her eye to glide down soft skin. “Every time you thought you were losing your mind, it was real. Every vision was a memory. Everything you saw—Poseidon in the sea, the fire in my eyes—isreal.”

“Oh, my God,” she mumbles, but I can hear the hysterical disbelief that clings to her words. She doesn’t believe me.

She thinks this, too, is in her mind. Only time will prove her wrong.

Time that, if she is brave enough to gift me her soul, we will have an eternity of.

Still, I quirk a grin as I warn her, “And every time you call to your God, it’s me who hears.Mewith the power to answer.”

The flush of pink in her cheeks is delicate, but the shock I taste in the air between us has me tipping my head curiously. She breathes, “Leuce said something along those lines.”

Her glistening eyes lift to the brow I arc. “What, exactly, did Leuce say?”

I hear her thought in my head as clearly as I would if she’d spoken aloud.God, this can’t be real.

“It is very real, Persephone.”

Her eyes widen. Her lips, with just a little more color than before, part.Oh, myGod, I need a drink.

“Wine or something stronger? Whiskey, perhaps?” I don’t dare offer her Charon’s brew. Some things even Gods don’t come back from.

She lurches in my hands, but I don’t let her escape me. She whispers, “Impossible.”

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