The Dark Wife (26 page)

I bent my head and lapped up a mouthful of the seeds. The thing about pomegranates is that they are sweet and sour—they make you shiver, as you devour them; they are sticky and red like mortals’ blood, and you must chew them thoughtfully, carefully, a meditation on what it is to be a seed, to be courageous enough to grow inside a deep, dark fruit, waiting, waiting, waiting.

I swallowed the seeds, and I licked the palm of Hades’ hand, even as she devoured her own portion. I let the knife fall to the floor, splattering the white marble with the juice of the fruit, and I lay down again, lay down beside her, red washing over me, red within and without of me. The red of the pomegranate and the red of my love mixed together into something deep, pulsating,
a music
only we could hear. I needed her, and she devoured my mouth, like she’d devoured the pomegranate, a sweet and sour taste between us as she pushed away my dress, climbed on top of me, between my legs, heart pressing against mine and breath hot against my ear, and I thought the crescendo would build within me until I shattered, every fragment of me too hot to touch or hold, feverish, fired, brilliant.

“I love you,” whispered Hades, branding the words into my skin as she breathed them out here, here, hands pushing aside the bothersome cloth between us, finding my skin, gently touching, kissing. I arched up beneath her, because every single part of me cried out without words, crying out for her. I needed her to touch me, to whisper my name, to trace her tongue in wet spirals that glistened beneath the created sun. She bent down and kissed me, then, tongue between my lips, arm beneath my head so that I raised up to meet her, nestled, cradled as she ate me up, sweet and sour, the darkest of fruits.

Between my legs, she pressed down with her hips, pressing down and in, eliciting a moan from my mouth, a whimper. I begged her mutely to touch me there, to reach within me, find my great and terrible ache and fracture it into a thousand pieces. I was aware of every inch of her skin, of her body now, felt the curls of her hair tracing over my face and my neck. The scent of pomegranate and Hades filled me, and I closed my eyes as she kissed my stomach, lower.

I gripped the cloth on the bed and felt my heart leap against my bones when her fingers pressed down, curved up and in, questing, piercing me through and through and through, and there was a wave of shocking pleasure that rocked through me, and another, and had it been a lifetime or a heartbeat between then and now, because now, now, now, there was red everywhere and in everything, and I was opened, like a pomegranate, devoured, and she pressed her mouth to mine when I cried out, when the waves of delirium hit me, and her weight above me made it feel real, her pressing into me—we were not two, but the same creature, connected, bound. I put my arms about her shoulders and drew her down to me, her mouth to mine, as I shook from the crescendo, as I shook and shivered, and when it was done, when all I could do was lie there, weak, so weak, she gathered me to her, covered us both in a blanket, and nestled my head on her breastbone, a sweet smile on her lips.

There was a stain of pomegranate juice on her chin, and I traced it with a shaking finger, touched her lips,
cherished
the warmth and realness of her. Now that it was over (even though it wasn’t, the reverberations of it still quivered through me, the most liquid light feeling I had ever known), it was
over
, and all I had was this moment where we were together, and how long would the night last, and I mustn’t cry, I mustn’t, but even as I thought, even as I did my absolute best to hold onto the moment of here and now, I lost it. I lost the string that connected me here; it snapped away from me, into the blackness, and I began to weep.

Hades said nothing, only drew me closer, pressed her lips to my hair,
held
me close enough that I could feel the pulse of her heart, beating beneath her lovely skin, against my skin. We were so close, I couldn’t tell where I ended and she began. Now, on this night, we were one, and we would never—no, I couldn’t use that word, never.

But I wouldn’t delude myself. Did I really believe that Zeus would let me go, would ever let me go? Did we really believe that it was possible to build a life together under the shadow of a god who wanted to keep us apart?

It was too much, and I was too tired, and I wanted to be swallowed up by the darkness of the Underworld and sleep forever in Hades’ arms, obligations obliterated. A long, immortal life of unhappiness lay before me, while my dark wife lived a world apart, alone.

“Persephone,” Hades whispered. I turned to her, nose to nose, closing my eyes. I couldn’t look at her. If I did, I would sob and never stop sobbing, and I wanted to do my best, I wanted to show her I was brave, as she thought I was. If I could be brave now, maybe she would believe I could be brave above, too, and then she wouldn’t worry about me…

“Persephone,” she said gently, touching my chin. I opened my eyes, took hers in—they were filled with such love, such kindness, that everything I was holding onto so tightly broke apart within me, and I was weeping again. How could we endure this?

“I know you think that it’s over,” she whispered to me, lips against my ear. I buried my face in her neck, drew my arms about her. “You think it’s over, but it’s not. I promise you, Persephone.”

“How can you know?”

“I know,” she breathed. “And I promise you this—we will be together again. I swear it. Do you trust me?”

It was a surprising question, and I looked at her, perplexed, tears spilling from my eyes. I pushed them away. “Of course I trust you. I love you.”

“Then do you trust that I will find a way for us to be together?”

“Hades—”

“Persephone.
Trust me. Have faith in me.”

“I do,” I whispered, heart breaking, numb.

“Please continue to trust me. I swear to you, I will make this right.”

She waved a hand at the glittering sun over our heads, and it dimmed, softened. There was only darkness. I felt as if I had descended to another time and place. She was all around me, within me, holding me, part of me, now. She kissed me, gently, promised again that she would find a way.

And I didn’t know how she could stop this, what she could do—there was nothing she could do—but I had faith in my goddess, faith in the possibility of something beautiful happening in my life, and remaining.

We came together in the dark,
whole
in one another, a marriage of the truest love, built upon a single dark fruit devoured.

Twelve: Queen of the Underworld

It was morning; the glittering sun glowed. Hades kissed me awake, and for a moment, a very small moment, I forgot my pain. We were together, and we were married, and we lay in her bed in the room she had built for me, and everything was so beautiful. I wrapped my arms around her neck and drew her down to me, and then I
remembered.

The reality of what was about to happen, of all that was about to change, lanced through me with such pain that I sat up, gasped. Hades gazed at me with heavy, hooded eyes. “It’s going to be all right…” she began, but I pressed a finger to her lips, shook my head. If we stayed silent, if we didn’t talk about it, this moment would stretch on and on forever, and we could stay here, we could—

The double doors scraped open; Pallas stood before us, looking very small, casting a long shadow over the room.

“Hermes is here…”

Hermes. Hermes had come to carry me across the river Styx, to fly me up the thousands of steps, to take me away, away—so far away.

It was over.

Hades and I rose. I gathered my red dress from the floor; Hades shrugged into her black one. I swept my hair behind me, tangled though it was, and—hand in hand, like children—we walked out, and we were in the palace, and we moved through the halls, found the throne room.

I stopped and stared. There were two thrones. The new chair was equal in size to Hades’ black one, but white and carved with tiny vines and flowers and a scattering of stars.

It was meant to be my throne, as the second queen of the Underworld. A sob caught in my throat as I stumbled toward it, fell upon the seat, and when I met Hades’ eyes, I saw the grief there, and it swallowed me up.
            “Persephone,” said Hermes, bowing low. He stood in the center of the room, the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown, and he held out his hand, hesitant. “Are you ready?”

I laughed, but it sounded like I was choking. I covered my mouth and crossed my arms in front of me, as if that could keep the future at bay. I would have given my hair, my eyes, my hands to
Charon
now, if he could have promised me
time
…time that I’d never had, time that always seemed to taunt me, running away too fast, leading me to caverns of the deepest despair and darkness.

The pomegranate was sweet and sour, and the sour taste now rose strong within me.

Hades took me by the shoulders, shook me gently. “Persephone,” she whispered, and I looked into her eyes. There were tears there, black, shining. “Believe in me. Promise me you
will,
that you won’t lose hope.” On the last word, her voice broke, but she persisted. “Please. Promise me.”

“I promise,” I said, putting my hand over my mouth, angry, furious. I was being forced to leave, to leave
her
, and I was promising her something I could not do—to hold onto hope in a hopeless world.

“Here,” she whispered, and took my hand. She pressed something smooth and flat into my palm. I turned it over, looked at the shimmering stone. It was deceptively dark, because when I turned it, it
flickered
blue and green, like the sun room doors. A long metal chain dangled from the top of it, strung with beads red as pomegranate seeds, and I realized that it was a necklace—Hades made me a necklace, something I could wear over my heart.

She took it from me, fastened it about my neck, and it felt so cold against my skin that I shivered.

“My link to you.
I’ll always be here.” And she pressed a trembling hand to my heart, and she took me, roughly pressed her mouth to mine. I wrapped my arms about her, and we embraced, and we kissed, and I was weeping when we broke away. This, this, this was all I’d ever have, and it was ending.
Oh, please, please, don’t let it ever end.

Hermes held out his hand to me again. I took it.

“I will come for you. I will. Don’t give up on me. Please.”

I turned back. Hades stood between our thrones, and she sagged, beaten, but her eyes still flashed. “I love you.”

I nodded, tears blurring my sight of her. “I love you, Hades.”

And Pallas was there, and she hugged me fiercely, pressing a note into my hand. “For Athena,” she whispered, and I let her go, kissed her cheek.

I knelt and gathered Cerberus in my arms; he scratched at my legs, whining, whining.

And then I flew to Hades again.
One last kiss.
One last everything. Everything was breaking.

Hermes beckoned me, wrapped an arm around my waist, and I was weightless as he rose and shimmered, as I shimmered, too. Hades stood below, her lips parted as if she were going to say one last thing, but then she was gone, and we were already at the Styx, already beyond it, and we entered the great maw that took us to the corridor to the beginning—or end—of the world.

~*~

Light, light everywhere. I cried out and pressed my hands to my eyes. I was still, sprawled on the ground, and it was wet and so cold. I took away my hands, rose and blinked fiercely; tears streamed over my face.

Sunlight.

Hermes and I stood at the entrance to the Underworld, the opening that I had found and entered when I was someone else, a lifetime ago.

I stared, uncomprehending, at the forest surrounding me. The trees drooped, draped in glittering white. The barren ground was white, too, and hard as rock. A small herd of deer stood, terrified, on the edge of the clearing, watching us.