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wouldn’t matter. She could make a rose grow in a snowstorm.
Then again, if she were her mother, a garden would already be growing in the Underworld.
When Persephone finished, she took her list to a flower shop and asked for seeds. When the clerk—an older man with wild, wispy hair and a long, white beard—came to the narcissus, he looked up at her and said, “We do not carry Hades’ symbol here.”
“Why not?” she asked, more curious than anything.
“My dear, few invoke the name of the King of the Dead, and when they do, they turn their heads.”
“It sounds like you have no wish to join the dead in Asphodel,” she said.
The shopkeeper paled, and Persephone left with a few extra flowers, a pair of gloves and a small shovel. She hoped the gloves would keep her touch from killing the seeds before she got them in the ground.
Soon after she left the shop, she found herself outside Nevernight for the third day in a row. It was early enough that no one was waiting outside to get into the club. As she approached, the doors opened, and once she was inside, she took a deep breath and snapped her fingers like Hades had shown her. The world shifted around her, and she found herself in the Underworld, in the same spot where Hades had kissed her.
Her head spun for a few moments. She had never teleported on her own, always using borrowed magic. This time, it was Hades’ magic that clung to her skin. It was unfamiliar but not unpleasant, lingering on her tongue, smooth and rich like his kiss. She flushed at the memory and quickly turned her attention to the barren land at her feet, making a plan for how she would plant.
She would start near the wall and plant the aconite first, the tallest flower which would bloom purple. Then she moved onto the asphodel, which would bloom white. The polyanthus were next, and would grow in clusters of red. Once she had a plan, she lowered to her knees and started to dig. She settled the first seed into the ground and covered it with the thin soil.
One down.
Several more to go.
Persephone worked until her arms and knees hurt. Perspiration beaded across her forehead, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. When she finished, she sat back on her heels and surveyed her work. She couldn’t quite describe how she felt, staring at the grayish plot, except that something dark and uneasy edged its way into her thoughts.
What if she couldn’t do this? What if she failed to meet the terms of this contract? Would she really be stuck here in the Underworld forever? Would her mother, a powerful goddess in her own right, fight for her freedom when she discovered what Persephone had done?
She pushed those thoughts aside. This was going to work. She might not be able to grow a garden with magic, but nothing was preventing her from trying it the mortal way...except her deadly touch. She would have to wait a few weeks to find out if the gloves worked.
She picked up the watering can she had bought at the flower shop and looked around. There had to be a place to fill it nearby. Her gaze fell on the garden wall. It might give her enough height to locate a fountain or a river.
Careful not to disturb her freshly planted seeds, she managed to scale the wall. Like everything else Hades owned, it was obsidian and almost resembled a vicious volcanic eruption. She navigated the rough edges carefully, only falling once, but caught herself, cutting her palm.
She hissed at the stab of pain, closing her fingers on sticky blood, and finally made it to the top of the wall.
“Oh.”
Persephone had glimpsed the Underworld yesterday, and yet it still managed to surprise her. Beyond the wall was a field of tall green grass. It stretched on for what seemed like miles before ending in a forest of cypress trees. Cutting through the lengthy grass was a wide and rushing river. From this distance, she couldn’t quite make out the color of the water, but she knew it wasn’t black like the river Styx. She was aware that there were several rivers in the Underworld, but she was too unfamiliar with its geography to even guess which one might be in the field beyond.
Still, it didn’t really matter—water was water.
Persephone climbed down from the wall and started across the field, watering can in hand. The tall grass scraped across her bare arms and legs. Mingled with the grass were strange orange wildflowers she had never seen before. Now and then a breeze stirred the air. It smelled like fire, and while it wasn’t unpleasant, it was a reminder that, though she was surrounded by beauty, she was still in the Underworld.
As she waded through the grass, she came upon a bright red ball.
Strange, Persephone thought. It was a larger-than-normal ball, almost the size of her head, and as she bent to pick it up, she heard a low growl. When she looked up, a pair of black eyes stared back.
She screamed and stumbled back, ball in hand. One—no, three, black Dobermans stood before her. Then she noticed their gazes were focused on the red ball she held in her hand. Their growls turned into whines the longer she held it.
“Oh,” she said, looking at the ball. “You want to play fetch?”
The three dogs sat tall, tongues lolling out of their mouths. They were powerful looking animals with sleek, dark coats and cropped ears.
Persephone threw the ball and the three bolted. She laughed as she watched them fall over each other, racing to claim it. It wasn’t long before the three returned, the ball in the jowls of the one in the center. The dog dropped it at her feet and then the three sat back obediently, waiting for her to throw it again. She wondered who had trained them.
She tossed the ball again and continued until she reached the river. Unlike the Styx, the water in this river was clear and ran over rocks that looked like moonstones. It was beautiful, but just as she moved to draw water, a hand clamped down on her shoulder and drew her back. “No!”
Persephone fell and looked up into the face of a goddess.
