“Hades?” Cyane said incredulously. She slipped the note back into her pocket. “No, Sicily wouldn’t be here—”I’m going mad.“It’s up there.” She pointed up like a moron. “I need to get back to the...the world above.”
Cyane scanned the cave-like room for cameras.
Please god, let there be cameras.
“Oh. I see,” Melinoe said. “Sicily is a mortal place. Well, if you need to leave then you should speak to my Cerberus. He’s in charge of who goes.”
Cerberus.Cerberus? Cyane wanted to scream again at the sound of his name. She forced the images his name invoked from her mind.
Cerberus was the guardian of passage here. But the being she’d encountered wasn’t a three-headed dog, he was a man dressed in Greek armor. She preferred that to the other more monstrous image stalking the periphery of her thoughts.
“The Greek warrior,” Cyane muttered.
“Not quite. Cerberus is the offspring of dreaded Typhon and Echidna, like his brothers Hydra and Chimera. He was never a Greek, nor a warrior, but a creature from the old world, and only survived the passing of time through Hades, who gifted him a mortal body to escape Hercules at the end of the hero's labors.”
Cyane threw her feet over the bed. “Yes, that’s interesting.” She really didn’t want to think of creatures or this ‘old world.’ Not anymore than she needed to in order to escape. “But can you tell me how I can speak to him and have him help me leave this place? He tried to kill me after he saved my life… Is there anyone else I can ask?”
“Well, there is my father, but Cerberus will attend such a matter, as it is his duty. I’m certain you will speak with both in time.”
Cyane closed her eyes and scrunched her face.
Thoughts of boulders being rolled up hills, eagles pecking her organs out, and endless torments come to mind. Only yesterday, she was stressed about finding cheap, safe hostels to sleep in at night.
At least she hoped it wasonlyyesterday.
She looked at Melinoe warily. “What would you suggest I do?”
Melinoe clapped her hands and jumped off the bed. “We shall get you ready for the party!” The woman spun with excitement.
“Party?”
“Yes.” Melinoe twirled back to her, veils swirling in an arch. “A party to celebrate the return of the Queen of the Underworld, my mother Persephone. Both my father and Cerberus will be in attendance. But you can’t look like...likethat.” Melinoe grabbed Cyane’s hands, eyeing her clothes as if they were a neighbor’s bag of garbage left outside their door.
“A party to celebrate Persephone?”Like Thesmophoria?Could the same festival be happening here?
“Oh yes. We celebrate Her return every year. For a fortnight before Her descent. Immortals, gods alike, all come to join the Lord of the Underworld as he receives his bride. Each day there is a new festivity, a new gift given by those most loyal or seeking favor from Lord Hades or Queen Persephone herself.”
Not quite the same.
A fortnight before Persephone’s descent. If that were true, she still had time to get to Sicily.
“Has the party begun?” Cyane asked.
“Yes, for several days now. The first day is the arrival, when all the immortals who wish to attend gather, then for the seven days following, there are feasts. During the final six days, we have festivities. A Day of Dancing, a Day of Gifts, a Day of Battles, a Day of Deals, a Day of Deviance, and then finally, the Day of Descent.”
“And today is...?”
Melinoe smiled. “The final day of the feast. But first, your clothes.”
Relief rushed through Cyane. She still had a week.
Cyane hopped off the bed, her bare feet landing on cold stone. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”
She peered down at herself. Her clothes were still intact. She was no longer wet, and her hair was dry, but her shoes were missing. Besides several bruises and scrapes, and a couple of broken nails, she was fine. Someone had left her clothes on but had taken off her shoes and made her comfortable. She also felt clean, as if she’d been washed, or cleansed of the waters of before. It concerned her that she couldn’t remember.
She didn’t know if she liked the thought of someone touching her while she’d been unconscious, but as she looked back up at Melinoe, Cyane prayed it’d been the goddess who’d done so. Then the memory of Melinoe’s ghostly fingers under her skin returned, and Cyane shuddered.
No. I don’t like her touching me either.
