Chapter Nineteen Virgo

It was only a memory, but it grew. One memory became many. It was only a collection of moments that had already happened. It was a set of memories that began with the sun warming her back as she rested on a plush settee on the top terrace of her turreted tower. Moving into a sitting position, she stretched her arms over her head and took the deep breath of a girl who always slept like an angel. Her eyes took in the landscape surrounding her—so every day to her, yet so magnificent.

She sat at the top of her very own palace, a detachment of the main building, but hers nonetheless. Much of the tower was skeletal, in that walls were not needed. White stone columns held floor after floor aloft to give her the grandest view of the landscape. Height was what she desired, not walls. She needed neither privacy nor warmth, though the lowest levels of the tower provided comforts such as baths, beds, shaded places, and pleasures to welcome her mother and siblings who visited her often.

It was her own palace, but she was not alone there. She had servants who surrounded her and cared for her every whim.

Yet, with her every desire delicately answered, there was something missing from her perfection.

She had no lover.

The concept failed to trouble her. Time meant nothing. She could wait for perfection. She could wait for the god she loved to love her in return. When she reflected on his golden boy charm she felt weak, like a mortal woman, who could fall in love in a way a goddess shouldn’t be able to. But there was no rush.

Standing on the tower, her body felt hot, and as she stared out at the resplendent view that was Olympus. There was a hunt of some kind going on in the mountains. An unwanted ancient creature had somehow ferreted onto holy ground, so everyone rushed to the chase. Except her. She was not interested in killing. At the moment, all she wanted was a swim. Her bathtub would have sufficed, but the long pool that lay between her tower and the great temple of Zeus was completely empty.

Her expression brightened as she considered having the pool entirely to herself. The prospect pleased her, so she rose and stepped off the edge of the sixth floor as a human might jump the last steps of a staircase. She landed lightly on the grass and skipped across the footbridge to the pool.

Dressed in casual silks, she slipped into the water fully dressed. It wasn’t as though modesty was a particular virtue of her kind, so her vulnerable state didn’t even occur to her. Instead, she thought of the perfectly cool water and the way her skirts and top billowed around her body like mermaid fins. She lay back in the water and watched the white clouds turn gold in the afternoon sun.

She believed she was alone. She believed it did not matter if anyone should walk by. She was home, where she was free to be naked or clothed, where she was free to grow up as quickly or as slowly as she wished. She believed that her mother and father would protect her if anything should seek to harm her, but what could harm her? She was a goddess.

But she did not think about these things. She never thought about them. They were there, but they were as obvious as the ground beneath her feet and she questioned them less.

In that moment of happy repose, a voice sounded from behind one of the stone pillars. “You have a beautiful body,” he said languidly. His voice was low and occasionally made a clicking noise like he moved his tongue too much or smacked his lips when he spoke.

The girl stood and the water fell away from her form. She knew her clothes offered little modesty when they were soaking wet and clinging, so she covered her chest with her arms. No one she knew on the mountain would speak to her like that. Who was it?

He stood, leaning against the pillar. He was dressed in hunting apparel like he was someone who had strayed away from the hunt. He wore a black and silver breastplate and guards on his forearms and shins. But his clothes were ordinary, for her. It was his face and his aura that startled her. His hair was white and weaved into a long single braid that hung to his chest. His eyes were scarlet and sharp as arrows as he appraised her body to the smallest detail.

“I don’t know you,” she said stiffly.

“I don’t know you either,” he said, as he stripped his sword and placed it calmly at the edge of the water.

As a goddess, she knew no fear. She was merely curious as he approached her, entering the water without taking off one piece of armor.

He stood in front of her, traveling the depths of her eyes with his, and reaching a conclusion she could only guess at. “Is this how you greet visitors to Mount Olympus? You should do something to let me know you wish me no harm.”

She turned out her right hand, all the while keeping her left arm to her bosom. She didn’t understand what he meant about her harming him. Even without a formal introduction, he was clearly a god. In her mind, it was impossible for them to hurt each other.

He took her hand gently and bent to kiss it. At least, that was what she expected him to do. Instead, he licked her skin from knuckles to wrist.

She jerked her hand back. “You have no right to touch me like that,” she said fiercely as she took a step back in the water.

“Of course I do,” he said, looking through her, like she was something trivial that amused him temporarily. “I can touch you any way I please. Is that your home?” he asked, pointing his chin toward her tower.

“Yes,” she said, still puzzled.

“Take me there. I’d like to see where you live. If I like your palace, maybe I’ll take you to see mine.”

She had never been to any place other than these buildings, this land, these hills. She had no idea where it was he was talking about. There was no other place, except Gaia, and though she had never been there, she had seen visions of it. She did not want to go there. It was dull and ugly.

“No,” she said serenely.

He looked at her blankly, like he was intrigued by her answer rather than defeated. “Are you what I think you are? I’ve never seen anything like you before. How clean,” he said stepping toward her again and brushing the side of her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I want you.”

“I want to dry off,” she said simply as she stepped away from him and pointed herself towards her tower.

“Don’t leave,” he said, grabbing her clothes instead of her body.

He held tightly and whirled her around back to him, but she lost her balance and fell into the water. There was a tear—her neckline. A piece of coral colored silk hung from his unmoving fingers as she recovered herself enough to hold her head above the water.

“Hades! What are you doing?” someone shouted from the top of the north stairs.

The young goddess smiled in thankfulness. It was Apollo, her half-brother. His thick, curling hair surrounded his perfect brown face, but his normally friendly eyes narrowed angrily. He rushed down the steps and removed his vermilion cloak. He splashed into the water unconcernedly, approaching the two figures. As he handed his cloak to his sister, he gave her a small smile, saying quietly, “You are more precious than the rest of us. Cover yourself.”

She took his cloak and did as he commanded.

“Go,” he said, and again she did as she was bid. She trusted Apollo implicitly, possibly because she saw more of him than her father, or possibly because he cared more for her than her father.

She went back to her tower without turning around to see what transpired between Apollo and Hades. She had never heard that name before, Hades.

She went into her home and prepared herself for her mother’s evening visit. Once she was dry, she pinned up her shining scarlet curls with emerald clips and covered her body in soft green satin. She opened the doors to her palace and stepped onto the small terrace to wait for her mother’s arrival. The sun had set and the moonlight shone down on the rippling pool. There, in the sparkle of reflection, stood the god she had met, Hades. His eyes met hers unwaveringly. He had to be thinking about her, but what exactly he thought was more of a mystery than it should have been. She did not feel uncomfortable as she waited and allowed his gaze, but rather suspicious that there was more to life here than she understood. Her ignorance made her more uncomfortable than his lustful stare.

“Who is he?” she asked her mother when she arrived and they had closed the doors behind them.

“Hades,” Demeter said grimly as she sat down. “The monster that entered our kingdom was thought to be from his realm, but after the thing was caught, it was clear that this was not so. He is innocent as always. Perfect gods never lapse.”

“Is he a good god then?”

“He has been with Zeus since the beginning. Long ago, when Zeus defeated the titans, Hades was with him, as well as Poseidon. Zeus rules the Heavens, Poseidon the Sea, and Hades the Underworld. He is perfect in his position—flawless beyond flawless. But there is something unnerving about him, isn’t there? Did you feel it? A coldness that other gods don’t have?”

“No. Though he did not seem as warm as Apollo.”

“No one is as warm as Apollo,” she laughed in a motherly tone. “You compare The Sun God to The God of the Underworld?”

“No one is as bright as Apollo?”

“No one,” she affirmed. “It’s funny you should mention him. Tonight, The God of the Underworld asked Zeus if he could have you for his wife.”

“What did he say?”

“He deferred to me and I refused for you. He is fine enough in his place, but I cannot give him my baby daughter. You are too young to be his wife and he is too dark to be your husband. You would not be happy in the Underworld. There is no light and no life. His home is filled with death and the sorrow of endings and partings. Your heart would break if you were forced to live there. I cannot send you to a place that would hurt you so. You need sunlight and a full life of love and passion. I fear you would find none of those things with him. I could not consent. Never fear though, Hades does not have a temper even if he does live on the very edge of Hell. I’m sure he won’t seek vengeance and he’ll soon school himself to forget about you.”

“Do you really think so?” she asked cautiously.

“Of course. Demeter has decreed it,” her mother said.

The young goddess nodded because she felt she was expected to show some gratitude, but she did not understand what she ought to be grateful for. From what she’d seen, she did not know whether this god, Hades, would make a good husband or not. She did not feel one way or the other about him.

***

The next day, she sat on the sixth floor of her tower with two servants, two nymphs called Raidne and Teles. She lay on the settee while they combed and braided tiny braids into her hair.

Raidne was like the spirit of a birch tree as her hair fell in blonde and black tresses. Her eyes were the color of her skin. Teles was like Raidne, but like a Mountain Ash. She had brown and blonde hair, but her eyes were ebony black. The two of them were patient and willing servants.

“What are you going to do today, Lady Persephone?” Raidne asked her mistress in soft tones.

Persephone pointed to a hill in the distance. “I want to go there to pick flowers. My tower has been bare of blossoms for days now because of all the hunting. The mountains haven’t been safe, but they’ve let up now, so we should go.”

“Aren’t you afraid of running into some horrible beast?” Teles asked shyly wrapping herself in her arms and shivering slightly.

“No,” she answered. “If we did come across something frightening, wouldn’t the two of you help me escape?”

“Of course,” Raidne said boldly. “There’s nothing to worry you if we come along. You’ll be perfectly safe. Besides,” she continued, picking a comb through Persephone’s hair, “nothing could ever hurt you. You’re a goddess.”

“Of course,” Persephone echoed blandly. She had never been hurt in her life.

“Of course,” Teles said cheerfully, adding to it so that the two of them giggled playfully at the joke.

Persephone rose and went down to the fifth floor to find clothes for the day. Teles and Raidne showed her different silks while she yawned and daydreamed, looking out the window.

She wondered if she would see Apollo that day. He was usually away, but whenever he came home he had the most wonderful stories to share about his adventures. Everyone said he was the most beautiful god on Olympus. His golden light brought worshipers from Gaia to Olympus, to the ends of the earth. In contrast, Hades was white, yet even in the whiteness, he was dark. He seemed different, like his power came from a different source than that of Apollo and the other gods. It perplexed her.

Idly, she wondered if she would ever see Hades again. He had gone away and she had not seen him since that moment their eyes met across the pool. Where had he fled to? Had he really given up on her?

Persephone chose a white silk gown and white slippers that laced up her shins. The dress fastened over one shoulder while the other shoulder remained bare. She used a pair of sapphire clips to hold the fabric in place; one on the shoulder and one on her back to give the dress some shape by pulling the silk tight around her waist. Then the nymphs finished her hair and they left the tower together.

On the hillside, the three of them picked great handfuls of blossoms and laughed happily at the brightness of the day, at the fun of being free and the melody of birds that rang from the trees.

“If you had a husband, lady, what kind would you like?” Raidne asked Persephone as she handed the goddess a peach.

Persephone sat on the soft blades of grass and spun the peach around in her hand until it slipped from her fingers and rolled away. “Well,” she said, thinking of these things for the first time. “I realize my choices are few. There aren’t many gods who could be my husband.”

“Would you like Apollo?”

“Perhaps in time. As for human men, I don’t really care for them, but one might do for a time if I should get lonely. If that were the case, then the choices are almost endless.” She paused to consider. “I’d like dark hair, almost black. Maybe brown eyes to match. Beyond that, I really don’t know what I want. Perhaps I’d like kindness because I don’t like anger.”

“None of them are the same, and all of them are a bit like animals,” said the dark-eyed nymph.

Persephone picked a large blue flower with a head so large she needed two hands to hold it properly. “I don’t know much. It feels like I’ve lived in this quiet world forever and the sun... how I adore the sun! I feel like it doesn’t matter if I have lovers or husbands or children or anything as long as I have that sun shining down on me. But, is there any place where it doesn’t shine?”

She breathed blissfully and lowered herself onto her back. The earth beneath her felt perfect. She closed her eyes and focused on it, but then she started to feel something strange in the ground—a rumble. It started out as little more than a quiver, but soon the dirt was jolting in heavy thrusts. Persephone sat up and tried to rise to her feet, but she was thrown onto her knees.

“What’s going on?” she shrieked, completely unprepared for anything so unexpected. Separate from the quaking hillside, her whole body trembled in fear.

The nymphs didn’t answer her but clung to trees and screamed louder than she did.

Then the ground before her began to split and the earth ripped open spewing red volcanic spray. The flaming liquid rolled down the hill as the hole grew and gaped. She was going to fall in if she didn’t move. Paralyzed by fear, she could hardly move an inch, but she forced herself backward. Then, just as suddenly as it started, the earth stopped shaking and Persephone put a hand to her breast.

It was over.

Seconds passed and a gash in the earth remained large and flowing with lava, like a bloody wound in a man’s chest. The nymphs ran toward Persephone and threw their arms around her seeking comfort from her even though they were her servants. She put one arm over each of their shoulders to show that she realized they were upset, but said nothing. She did not know how to respond. They said they would help her run away if something terrifying happened, but instead, they had protected themselves without worry for her.

Beneath their feet, the ground began to rumble again, but this time it was pulsing and rhythmic, like the pounding of horses’ hooves. The pounding became louder and louder until the gleaming pool of molten earth suddenly erupted. Shattered rocks and lava flew in all directions, and up out of the earth burst two massive horses pulling a chariot.

There in the rain of flames and rocks, stood Hades. His face and arms were streaked with ash and sweat. His white hair hung free below his armored shoulders. On his face was the expression of a man who utterly refused to be denied. In the chaos of stamping horses and shrieking nymphs, he saw nothing but Persephone.

She stared back at him in amazement. What had he gone through to break through to Olympus that way? She marveled at him as she clung to Raidne and Teles.

His eyes were a curious mixture of heartlessness and determination as he stared at her. “Come with me,” he commanded, proffering his soot-stained hand.

“No,” she whispered, a tremble rocking her body.

His eyes did not move from his goal as he tied the reins around the corner of the chariot, and stepped down. Reaching into the chariot, he produced a long riding whip and approached the three women.

“Nymphs, get away from her now,” he said chillingly.

There was no need for further threatening. Hades, merely standing there with a whip was enough to send the two fleeing the scene like leaves blown in an autumn wind.

Persephone calmed her nerves and sat still. “What are you doing?” she asked. “My mother told me she declined your request.”

“I don’t care what Demeter declined. Everything on her tongue tells of her contempt for my existence and her ignorance of what I stand for. In protecting you, the goddess of fertility, her understanding of my purpose is left so carefully blank. Either she doesn’t understand our joint function, or she intentionally ignores the necessary balance of the universe for her own selfish purposes. You are a symbol of birth, and yet you have been kept away from the bed chambers where you would learn your purpose. Demeter commands your realm in your stead in order to keep you a virgin. She is determined to stop you from learning of me and my ways. No more! They will hide you from me no longer. We were meant to be together as lovers, and you will learn what death is.” He bent and offered her his hand again. “Take my hand or I will drag you into Hell by your hair.”

Persephone shivered. She couldn’t do it.

When she didn’t obey, he did as he threatened and took her ringlets in his stained fingers and jerked her to her feet. She cried out. She had never felt pain before. He looked in her distorted face and slipped his arms around her, so he carried her with her knees over one arm and her back in the other.

“I’m such a beggar,” he said sardonically. “I can’t even carry through on my promise to force you cruelly. Understand that if you continue to disobey me, I will not stay a beggar.”

He dropped her into the chariot and taking up the reins, lashed the horses and drove them back down into the earth. Persephone was jostled back and forth in the chariot. Her hair and clothes were soiled in the ash and heat as they journeyed back down through the rock and fire that had been so inconspicuous under the carpet of Mount Olympus a moment ago.

***

In his getaway, Seth could only spare a glance in his rearview mirror to make sure Juliet was okay. Rylan was directly on his tail, striking the back of Seth’s car with horrific grinding noises at every opportunity. Seth weaved in and out of traffic at break-neck speeds trying to lose Rylan in his BMW. Seth thought a guy like Rylan would treasure the front end of an expensive car like that. It clearly meant nothing compared to the woman Seth was stealing from him.

Seth changed lanes and took a quick right.

***

Eventually, the long tunnel ended and Persephone and Hades came to a great cavern. The horses landed on a small outlet beside the underground river Styx. Persephone looked around, but she couldn’t see much. It was dark, and she could sense strange animals clinging to the rocks of the ceiling. Their screeching sounded in her ears and she felt afraid.

Hades stepped down from the chariot and without saying a word hauled her out by her wrist. Now she looked like him, smeared in ash and sweat, her curls unwinding, and her throat and nasal cavities burnt dry.

A boat was waiting in the black water with a strange, huddled figure piloting it. Hades made no introduction but threw her on the floor of the boat face down and took a seat at the stern. It was a large curling seat with comfortable cushions large enough to seat the two of them. The cloaked creature pushed away from the riverbank and they began floating downstream. The horses huffed and snorted, but Hades didn’t even look back at them.

“Do you want to sit beside me, wife?” Hades asked as he looked down at her.

After their feverish plunge into the earth, the moist cavern was cool and refreshing. She was unable to oppose him before, but now, she felt she had the power. After all, her mother had rejected his proposal. “A husband of mine would never treat me as you have done,” she said.

“Oh? If you feel I have mistreated you, then you have Demeter to thank for that. I tried to do things her way and was thwarted. Now we do things my way. I’ll repeat myself. Do you want to sit beside me, wife?”

“I’m not your wife,” she whispered.

He narrowed his eyes curiously. “Painful. You are painful. Get up. Take your clothes off. I want to see what you look like without that seductive silk.” He looked at her expectantly. “Undress.”

“No,” she cried.

“Charon won’t look at you. He knows who his master is... unlike you.” Then he hesitated a moment, before he said, “Now that I think of it, you haven’t paid him.”

“What?” Persephone gasped. She didn’t know what he meant. Why would she have to pay for anything? She wasn’t a mortal making a deal with a god.

“You need to give him a coin for the journey,” Hades persisted, propping one of his legs up on the upholstery. “Give him that sapphire clip on your shoulder. Then he’ll get his tax, I’ll get my view, and you won’t get thrown head-first into the River Styx.”

She reached behind her and removed her back clip and slid it into Charon’s outstretched hand without turning to look at him. Her dress billowed and lost its shape, but stayed on.

Hades shook his head darkly. “Your romantic appetite leaves something to be desired. You won’t even let me make our marriage even slightly enjoyable for you, will you? The story would be told best if you could say, ‘He was so hungry for me he couldn’t even wait until we reached his bed chamber, he ravished me in the boat.’”

Persephone felt her stomach roll. “That isn’t a story I would tell.”

“Considering your frame of mind, your story will be much less alluring for the audience,” he said insolently.

The boat rocked on, steering its way through the ripples of water. Occasional lights traveled along the shore. Not fireflies, or flames, or stars, not even the reflection of tiny shimmering rocks. Instead, the way was lit by dead souls, lost and wandering. And the goddess, Persephone, was strangely worse off than the dead, in the boat of Charon with the Lord of the Underworld dying of lust.

***

There were two entrances to Hades’ buried castle in the Underworld. One opened to the river Styx and the other opened to the road that led all the way to Mount Olympus. A human soul would always arrive by the riverboat, past the three-headed dog, Cerberus, and into the great hall. Persephone had entered the Underworld the way dead souls do.

The great hall was a circular room with vaulted ceilings and many, many doors lining the walls. From the oversized throne, souls were judged. The doors lining the walls did not lead further into the palace. Each door led to eternal consequences. Some souls went through a door where they would find relaxation after a hard life, some would review their life, some suffer, some exalt.

As Hades and Persephone approached the throne, Hades sat her down on it. The back of her head flattened the plush black velvet with a thud.

“Unlike your position on Olympus, you will have to work here. You’ll find it exhilarating, I’m sure,” Hades said lazily. “I have a gift for you. It’s a crown for you to wear as you sit on your throne.” He put out his hand and immediately something circular shimmered into position. She had never seen a god conjure something before and she looked at him, stunned.

The crown was a circlet that was very strange to her. On Olympus, her crown had been laurel leaves of carved gold. What Hades showed her was a crown made of black feathers.

Hades set it on her head with reverence and took her hand. Lifting her from the throne, he said, “For us, there is only one way out of this room.” He took her to the middle of the circle and opened a trap door in the floor. A winding staircase led downward.

At the bottom of the stairs was a parlor lit by a soft blue light that reflected on the ceiling by intermittent pools of water.

“This is where I greet any god who comes to visit. They don’t come often, but a good show is put on for them when they do come. Almost everything in this room will burn without diminishing: the chairs, the sculptures, the steel plants, the walls. Some of them like to feel like they’re visiting Hell, so I put on a show for them. The rest of the rooms aren’t like this.”

The next room was almost completely taken over by an enormous bath. It had bridges across the water and pedestals with statues of winged gargoyles. Hades led her straight across to the next room.

It was a library, but it was more than three times the size of hers at home. There were more metal plants and tiny trees, but these ones had real fruit dangling from them. Beside them were basins on pedestals that resembled her birdbaths, but were filled with a dark, sticky liquid.

“It’s chocolate. Have you ever tasted it?” Hades asked.

“No.”

“You’ll love it. Dead humans bring the best recipes with them. No ambrosia down here.”

Persephone was beginning to be mildly disturbed by his palace. It was like hers, so exactly like hers that she wondered if he made it that way especially for her. She was also worried about what was coming next. She was eyeing the two doors in front of her.

“You know what’s behind that door, don’t you?” he whispered inching up behind her and stroking the side of her arm. “They’re both bedrooms. That one is for whores and that one is for wives. You choose.”

“I don’t want to see either one.”

“But I want to see you. I want to see all of you.” His lips curled and Persephone knew it was the end.

***

Seth jerked his head to see what was going on in the backseat. Juliet was convulsing, shaking, and twitching so violently that she had fallen half-way onto the floor.

“Hang in there,” he shouted, completely helpless to do more than place his hand on her shoulder for a moment before he needed it back on the gear shift. “Damn it,” he cursed, turning the wrong way down a one-way road packed with traffic. He needed to shake Rylan. His car wasn’t as fast and he needed to take the chance. But Rylan had no fear and his blue-white headlights followed Seth down the one-way street like he would pursue Seth to hell if he had to.

***

Persephone numbly felt the cold silk on her naked back. She heard the faint sound of crunching in the background. She kept her eyes shut tight and tried not to think of anything. She didn’t know if she had been slammed through the door intended for whores or the bedroom intended for wives. She only knew that her back had broken through one of them and she had been sprawled against cold sheets with the coldest god of all on top of her.

Grabbing a sheet that had been kicked aside, she covered herself, but felt no warmth.

She had tried to fight, but the more she fought, the more pleasure he found in it. He had loved every second she squirmed, scratched, kicked, and shrieked. Now she lay exhausted and broken as her pearl-like tears streaked down her temples and welled in her ears.

“Open your mouth,” he said, almost sounding kind. “I don’t mean to be cruel to you, not after that. I just needed to make it clear to you that this is how we were meant to be together. Open your mouth,” he said again and Persephone, tired and sick at heart, did as she was told.

He had been peeling a pomegranate and inside her mouth, he slid six kernels. She bit down on them and the juice flooded her mouth. Hades bent, sealing her lips with a kiss and, though she was unaware of it, that was their wedding.