Page 49 of Hades

Standing, I push my chair aside and hold out my hand. “Come for a walk with me. Let me show you around. Maybe you’ll change your mind.”

She looks at my hand as if it were a cloven hoof and not the hand of the man who has loved her since the beginning of time. I try not to let her disgust affect me. I know she needs time.

“Come on,” I reiterate as I wiggle my fingers. The playful gesture earns me a smile, and this time, she places her hand in mine, and I help her to her feet. “I made all this for you from memory,” I tell her as we start toward the garden.

“How?”

I know what she’s asking. She wants to know how I’m able to manipulate this place to whatever I want. But I need her to start to remember.

“Every memory I have of our lives together is burned into my mind, down to the smallest detail,” I inform her.

“You know what I’m asking. How are you able to turn a prison into an oasis?”

I avoid her question for a moment. “This was your garden,” I tell her as I squeeze her hand. “You planted it one summer from seedlings you stole from a farmer. You said you wanted to watch something grow without intervention.”

“How?” she asks again, and I can hear bits of her playfulness in her voice.

“The same way you’re able to tell when someone is lying. It’s because your mother is the goddess of Justice and your father, the god of War. I can do what my family has always been able to do since before the gods knew they were gods.”

“My mother is a school teacher, and my father is an accountant. The only war he’d start is if you were trying to cheat on your taxes,” she jokes. “And what about my job, my new apartment in Boston? I have a life, you know, and friends that will miss me,” she continues as we walk hand in hand through her vegetable garden. “I can work from anywhere, but I can’t imagine doing it from here. Does prison even have Wi-Fi?”

Stopping, I turn toward her and pull her into my arms. “I will give you anything you want, even Wi-Fi,” I inform her as I pull the clip from her damp hair, letting it fall over her shoulders. “Don’t you have any memories of us?” I ask, because I know her mother had to loosen the curse, even if it was only to start a new one where I was the villain, which I feel I’m in danger of becoming.

She looks away briefly, unable to meet my eyes.

“You have, haven’t you?” I say, unable to stop the growing smile on my face. “What was it?” I whisper in her ear. “Because you’re blushing. It must have been good.”

I watch as she sucks in her lips, doing her best not to smile. “I don’t know what it was. A fantasy, maybe, brought on by stress. Wi-Fi first, then maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Done. So, tell me about that fantasy,” I implore.

“What do you mean, done?” she snaps.

“There’s Wi-Fi. I told you, Aradia, you aren’t a prisoner here. Whatever you want is yours. You want it to be night, it’s night,” I say, and the darkness of night surrounds us. “You want it to snow, there’s snow,” I continue as cold flakes fall from the night sky, hitting her bare skin. “Whatever you want, I can give you,” I add as the snow stops and the morning sun reappears.

She pushes back with her hands on my chest, and I let her go. “I want my life back,” she says, her voice cracking as if holding back tears. “I had a life!” she yells. “I was heading to Boston. I was going to…” Her words trail off as her tears start to fall.

“I can give you Boston,” I whisper, and our lakeside oasis disappears as Thaniel Hall surrounds us. “Whatever you want,” I reiterate, trying to get her to understand there is no limit to what I can give her. “Whatever your heart desires.”

The tears continue to stream down her cheeks as she looks around. Everything is perfect—every shop, every cart, even the kiosk where they sell the tours.

“This isn’t Boston!” she hollers as she swipes her arm over a cart selling Red Sox hats, and the merchandise goes sailing to the ground. “This is just an illusion you’ve made to keep me here. There are no people, no shopkeepers… nothing.”

“You want people?” I bellow as she stomps off through the now-crowded street. When she turns back to me, I can see the rage in her emerald eyes from where I stand.

“Stop it!” she screams as she looks at me. “Hades, please, just stop,” she cries, and Boston disappears, replaced again by our cabin. “Just make it Treachery Prison, please. I’d rather know I’m in prison than pretend to be anywhere with you.”

Her words pierce my heart. “Aradia,” I plead, but she turns her back on me.

“You said you’d give me whatever I wanted. If I can’t leave, I want it to be Treachery Prison.”

“Aradia, please,” I beg.

“Now!” she yells, and I obey, giving her what she asks.

The beautiful sky darkens, the lake and forest disappear, and in their place is the prison as it was. Damp, dark walls with shackles hanging from them, a river of fire winding its way through, and even the sounds of torture echoing from above.

“Is this what you wanted?” I ask. “Should I fill the cells with prisoners as well?” I ask, but before she can answer, the population I freed returns. This makes her jump and has Argos running to her side in his natural form.

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