Goddess of Spring (12 page)

Lina's jaw dropped open. She told herself to close her mouth, but she couldn't keep from gawking like a bumpkin. The castle was built of the same black marble as was the path they had been following. It rose above them, stretching impressive, peaked towers and sweeping, balustraded roofs up into the violet sky. It, too, appeared to be made of a single piece of stone. Tall, arched mullioned windows were gaily lighted from within, giving the huge structure an inviting appearance. From the top of the tallest of the circular towers flew a great, black flag. Lina squinted and shielded her eyes with her hand so that she could see the coat of arms depicted in flashing silver. On one side of the flag was an ornate helmet; on the other was the figure of a rearing stallion. Lina smiled. The stallion looked very familiar.

“One of the dread steeds?” she asked Hades, pointing to the flag.

“Yes, it is Orion.” Hades nodded in the direction of the lead horse, who turned his head and pricked his ears at the sound of his name. “He is, indeed, one of my steeds, though today he was only dread in theory.”

“I think he is very dread,” Eurydice said.

“There you have it,” Lina called to the black stallion. Orion tossed his head and nickered in response. “Your reputation is safe.”

Hades made a sound of disgust, which Lina ignored.

“Your palace is amazing. I can't wait to see inside,” she said.

“It is a wonder that few immortals have experienced.”

Hades sounded like a fond parent speaking with pride about a favored child, and it was easy to understand why. Lina had certainly never seen its like. Not in the old oil mansions of Tulsa, and not in the magnificent ancient structures of Florence.

The god pointed the chariot down the road that wrapped around the palace and as they turned the corner Lina gasped. Beautifully manicured gardens stretched in tier after tier behind the palace. Lovely fountains bubbled in happy voices. Hedges were trimmed to form perfect geometrical shapes. Flowers bloomed in profusion. Lina saw many she recognized, orchids, lilies, roses, and, of course, the ever-present narcissus, as well as several plants that were totally unfamiliar, but they all had one thing in common.

“All the flowers are white,” Lina said.

Not that they were all the same. She hadn't realized until then how many different shades of white there could be, but all of them blazed before her—from the pure, bright white of newly fallen snow to the subtle iridescence of pearls—each with its own unique pigment range within the lightest of colors.

“It is the color of the Underworld,” Hades explained. “White represents the purity of death.”

“I thought black was your color.”

“And so it is. Each black animal owes allegiance to me. The black of night and shadows were birthed in my realm, as is the black of that little death known as sleep. White and black—the most perfect of colors. They both belong to the Underworld.”

“White for the purity of death. When you explain it like that, it makes perfect sense, but until now I wouldn't have associated white with He”—Lina caught herself, cleared her throat delicately as if she'd experienced a tickle, and continued—“the Underworld.”

Hades looked pleased as he guided the chariot along a section of the path that branched from the main road. It angled around behind the palace and led to a long, narrow building made of the same black marble, obviously an opulent stable. They halted before it, and four spectral men emerged from the building, each wearing black livery garments bearing the same silver devices as the flag, and each took charge of one of the stallions.

“Treat them well,” Hades commanded the ghostly men as he helped Lina and Eurydice from the chariot and gestured for them to precede him to the palace. “They have had an”—he paused, glancing at Lina and raised his dark eyebrows—“unusual day.”

Lina blinked, surprised by his teasing tone. Then she said, in a voice staged loud enough for the stablemen to hear, “Well, they certainly scared me. Boy, they aren't called the Dread Steeds of Hades for nothing.” She elbowed Eurydice. “Right?”

The girl stifled her smile and nodded vigorously. “Yes, Goddess!”

Hades snorted.

One of the dread steeds nickered like a colt at Lina, causing his stableman to send the goddess a bewildered look. Lina covered her laugh with a cough and quickened her steps to keep the dread steeds from embarrassing themselves.

CHAPTER NINE

“IT'S even more beautiful on the inside,” Lina said, so fascinated she couldn't stop staring around her.

They entered the palace from the rear, going through an intricately carved wrought iron gate and then crossing a wide hall that led to an impressive courtyard that seemed to have been built in the center of the palace. In the middle of the courtyard there was a huge fountain, as intimidating as Rome's Fontana di Trevi, except that the god depicted rising from the waters in the back of the chariot wasn't Neptune, it was Hades in all of his grim splendor, pulled, of course, by the famous steeds of dread. White flowers grew in clumps around marble benches—the ever-present narcissus, as well as a delicate blossom Lina didn't recognize.

“What is that flower?” she asked the god.

“Asphodel,” he said, giving her an odd look. “It surprises me that you did not recognize it, Persephone.”

Oops. Lina avoided his keen gaze by bending down and pretending to study the little plant. The Goddess of Spring should know her flowers.

She laughed nervously. “Of course, I recognize it now. It must be the unusual light here that made it appear strange to me.” She held out one arm so that the soft, blush-like light glowed off the alabaster of Persephone's skin. “It's so different from sunlight. It makes everything seem somehow changed, even things that should be familiar.” She smiled at the irony of implying that the arm she held out was anything like familiar.

“The light in my realm was created by me, and it is as different from Apollo's orb as I am from the God of Light.” Hades' voice sharpened and he became instantly defensive.

“Oh . . . well . . .” Lina said uncomfortably. “I didn't mean to imply that I didn't like it. On the contrary, I think it's beautiful. It's just different, that's all.”

Hades didn't reply, he just watched her steadily with those intense, expressive eyes. Lina thought it was little wonder that he didn't get many visitors; his moods were like an amusement park ride. Up and down, they changed with dizzying speed. Maybe she'd talk to him about that before she left. She might as well help Hades out while she was there, as well as whatever she needed to do for the dead. Actually, the thought was satisfying. What little she had already seen of the Underworld was far too beautiful to be buried in superstition and misinformation. And Hades was nothing like the uninteresting god Demeter had described. Lina looked slantwise at him. He was a sleek panther of a man, volatile and intriguing. What Hades needed was a good marketing campaign to bring about a change in image. Lina couldn't help smiling secretly to herself. She had always been excellent at marketing.

The three of them walked slowly across the large courtyard. Soon, Lina found herself completely engrossed in her surroundings. Beautiful statuary of nude gods and goddesses dotted the area. They were crafted so expertly from cream-colored marble that they appeared to be living flesh. Lina hoped that her temporary job wouldn't keep her too busy to enjoy the garden. It would be the perfect place to sit, sip wine and daydream.

“After your journey I imagine you would enjoy some refreshments,” Hades said suddenly. “I would be pleased if you would join me.” Then he added hastily, as if he expected her to refuse him and he wanted to provide her a credible excuse. “Unless you are too fatigued, which would be understandable.”

“I'm not tired at all, and I am very hungry,” Lina smiled at the somber god, wanting to put him at ease.

“Very well then,” Hades said, his expression relaxing a little. “I will have you shown to your room.” He nodded at Eurydice. “And you to yours, child, which you can be certain will be near your goddess.”

The little spirit grinned happily and Lina felt a rush of warmth for Hades and the compassion he was showing Eurydice. As they continued through the courtyard Lina searched her memory. What did she know about Hades? She couldn't remember reading much about him. He was the King of Hell who had abducted the young Persephone. What else? Persephone's reservoir of knowledge stirred and whispered:
Hades . . . somber, reclusive, stern . . . the gloomy god enriches himself with mortal tears.

Lina tried not to frown as she listened to her inner voice. He certainly didn't act like Eurydice's tears would in any way enrich him. Actually, it seemed as though the opposite were true. Confused, she shut her mind to Persephone's echo and smiled distractedly at Eurydice who was chattering merrily about the beauty of the white flowers.

The massive courtyard finally ended and they came to two large glass doors, which swung open without Hades touching them.

Magic, Lina thought, trying not to appear startled. She couldn't allow herself to be surprised at magic. She was supposed to be a goddess . . . she was supposed to be a goddess . . . she was supposed to be a goddess. . . . Reminding herself, she kept up the silent mantra. While Lina chanted to herself, Hades stepped aside and motioned for her to enter the palace.

She stepped into a dream.

The floor was the same smooth, seamless black that made up the road and the exterior of the palace, but the inner walls were miraculously changed. They were ebony veined with the palest of white; day and night merged harmoniously together. Silver wall sconces held torches which burned joyously. From tall ceilings hung chandeliers—Lina's eyes were riveted upward—made of faceted stones and candlelight. The flames caught the jewels and sparkled like the sun on water. Directly above their heads was a waterfall of amethyst. A little way down the hall hung another, which looked to be crafted from topaz. Farther on another chandelier winked with the pure green of perfect emeralds.

“Jewels!” Lina shook her head in wonder. “Are the chandeliers really made of jewels?”

“They are. Do not be so surprised, Goddess. Are precious stones not found deep within the earth? And is not the innermost realm of the earth the Underworld?” Hades sounded amused.

“I didn't realize you were God of Jewels, too,” Lina breathed, still unable to tear her eyes from the wondrous sight.

“There is much the other immortals do not know of me,” Hades said.

“Lord, forgive me for being late. I expected you to arrive at the front of the palace.”

The new voice enabled Lina to pull her eyes from the jeweled chandeliers. A man was hurrying down the hall to them. He was wearing a white, toga-like robe, much like the one Hades wore, only less voluminous. He approached the god and bowed deferentially.

“It is no matter, Iapis. I thought the goddess would enjoy entering the palace through the courtyard.”

“Certainly, Lord.” He bowed again to Hades before turning to Lina. “Goddess Persephone, it is truly a pleasure to welcome Spring to the Underworld.”

His bow was precise, but his smile was sincere, and Lina's first impression of him was of an oh-so-perfect British valet, like Anthony Hopkins in
The Remains of the Day
, except that he wore a toga, had more hair and was dead. She smiled graciously, trying to remember to forget the part about him being dead.

“Thank you. From what little I've seen of the Underworld I am already very impressed.”

“Goddess, the trunks that your great mother sent have already been unpacked and arranged in your chamber. If you follow me I will show you the way and see that you are settled in.” He glanced at Hades. “If that suits you, Lord.”

“Yes, yes,” he waved his hand dismissively. “You know best in these matters, Iapis. Oh, and find a room near her goddess for this little spirit. She has chosen to stay by Persephone's side.”

Iapis nodded solemnly in acknowledgment.

Hades turned to Persephone. “You have only to call Iapis when you are ready for refreshment, and he will show you the way to me.” The god inclined his head slightly, spun neatly on his heel and strode quickly away, cloak billowing in his wake.

Lina felt her eyes being drawn after his retreating form. She watched as he disappeared around a corner. The last thing she saw was his cloak. Batman. She couldn't help it. He really reminded her of Batman. And she had to admit that she'd always been ridiculously attracted to Batman, especially the one played by pouting, angst-ridden Val Kilmer. He and Hades had the most sensual lips. . . .

“Goddess?” Iapis said.

“Oh, I'm sorry. I was just so intrigued with the gorgeous . . . uh . . . chandeliers.” Lina realized she was babbling, but she couldn't seem to make her mouth stop. “They're so unusual. My breath has been taken away by the beauty of the palace.”

Iapis inclined his head in acknowledgment of her compliment, neatly ignoring the fact that her cheeks had suddenly become flushed.

“Hades designed the chandeliers himself.”

“Really?” Now she was intrigued.

Iapis motioned for her to precede him down the long hall to their right. Lina walked slowly, and Eurydice stayed close to her side. The servant's voice took on a professorial tone as he walked and talked.

“Indeed. Hades has overseen each aspect of the creation of his palace and the surrounding grounds. There was no detail too minute for my Lord's attention; nothing that was beneath his notice. He has an artist's eye for color and surface, and a fine sense of design. The Palace of Hades is a monument to the God of the Underworld.”