The Shadow Prince (21 page)

“What else do you know about them?”

“There are two of them going to school. One is a freshman, named Garrick, and the other is a junior. Since this is junior humanities, I’m assuming that means this one is Haden. Oh, and they’re staying at that really big house on Athena Way.”

I nod, even though I don’t know which house she’s talking about. All of the houses in Olympus Hills seem big enough to hold half of Ellis Fields in their main floors.

Before I can ask any more questions, someone pushes between Bridgette and me, knocking my shoulder into the doorjamb.

“Bridgette,” Lexie snaps at her friend.

“Oh yeah. I’m not supposed to talk to you anymore,” Bridgette says, and hurries after Lexie. They sit with a group of Sopranos in the first row. Each one deliberately not looking at me.

The bell rings, and the only seat left is in the second row. It’s directly behind Lexie.
Great
. But the worst thing about it is that it means I can’t see this Haden guy unless I deliberately turn back to look at him. I pause before sitting, to watch him. I wish he’d look up. I want to see his eyes again. I want to know if they’re bright and fiery like I remember. I need to know if he’s the same person I met in the grove.

“If everyone will sit, we will get started,” a tall, thin woman with red, curly hair says. I assume she must be Ms. Leeds, despite the leopard-print miniskirt she’s wearing.

I turn my back to Haden and slip into my seat.

“I trust last night’s events did not prevent anyone from finishing the reading.”

I pull out the iPad Marta had presented me with yesterday afternoon—she said it was preloaded with all of the books I might possibly need at OHH—as a collective groan echoes through the classroom. I would have joined in if I hadn’t turned
to studying in an attempt to lull myself to sleep at three this morning. I ended up reading a third of the book before my alarm clock went off. It was either that or call Jonathan again, and I didn’t think he’d appreciate that.

Ms. Leeds makes a tsking noise. “I was hoping now that Mr. Morgan has announced the subject of the school musical, your interest in our Greek mythology unit would have heightened. Mr. Morgan tells me you will be focusing on the story of Orpheus, the tale of the great musician who traveled to the underworld to bring back his wife, Eurydice, from the dead. It’s an interesting story, but I thought we might back things up a bit and study some of the earlier myths of the underworld before revisiting Orpheus. Mr. Morgan will be very pleased if those of you in the music and theatre tracks actually have a clue of what it is you’re singing about.”

Lexie sits at greater attention as Ms. Leeds opens her notes and sets them on a podium. She’s dedicated, I’ll give her that.

“Now, who here knows who Persephone is?”

Lexie and I both raise our hands at the same time.

“Ah, we get to hear from one of our new students. Daphne, yes?” Ms. Leeds says to me.

I nod.

“Enlighten us with your knowledge, Daphne.” Lexie lowers her hand.

“Persephone was the goddess of springtime. She lived on earth with her mother, Demeter, until she was kidnapped by Hades and forced to go to the underworld to live with him. Her mother, who happened to be the goddess of the harvest, wanted her back, and caused a big famine until Zeus told his brother Hades that he had to send Persephone home. Hades, being an evil jerk, tricked Persephone into eating six pomegranate seeds, which meant she was
now tied to the underworld for six months out of the year. That is supposedly where the seasons of the year come from. Spring and summer are beautiful and lush because Demeter was happy that her daughter was with her, and fall and winter are crappy because that’s when Demeter was sad, because Persephone was forced to be in the underworld with Hades during those months.”

“Colorful interpretation of the story,” Ms. Leeds says. “Though I find it interesting that you refer to Hades as being an ‘evil jerk.’ Why do you say this?”

“He’s the devil, isn’t he? Keeper of hell and all that.”

“No,” Ms. Leeds says. “While most scholars agree that the idea of Hades may have been the precursor to the medieval Christian concept of the devil, they were actually quite different.”

“But they both like dead people!” Bridgette says enthusiastically.

I can hear the eye roll coming off Lexie.

“Yes. True … somewhat,” Ms. Leeds says. “They are both the keepers of the souls of the dead. However, the Christian devil is traditionally known to claim only the souls of sinners, while Hades was believed to oversee all of the dead, whether they were good or bad.”

Bridgette nods as if that’s what she’d meant to say all along.

“It is also interesting to note that Hades was not only the god of the underworld, but he was also believed to be the god of wealth. As gold, jewels, and other precious metals come from beneath the Earth—which was believed to be the location of Hades’s realm. Many people would pray to Hades and make bargains with him in exchange for wealth and power. Some scholars think this may have been where the concept of ‘selling your soul to the devil’ arose in Christian beliefs. But what about the symbolism of these two
figures?” Ms. Leeds asks, looking at Bridgette. “The Christian devil is widely accepted as the embodiment of evil—a fallen angel. But what about Hades? Is he a figure of evil in the Greek mythos?”

Bridgette shrugs.

“Anyone else?” the teacher asks.

Lexie and I raise our hands at the same time again.

“Daphne, since you brought up the subject, I’d like to hear more of your thoughts.”

I can hear the frustration wafting off Lexie, but I go ahead and answer. “I think he is supposed to be a symbol for evil. The myth of Persephone clearly shows that.…”

“I beg to differ,” says someone from the back of the room. I’m certain I’ve heard his voice before—even if there’s no hint of his strange accent now.

“Ah, our other new student,” Ms. Leeds says, with a little clap of her hands. “I’m sorry, I should have started class with introductions. Haden Lord, stand up so everyone can see you.”

Haden stands. There’s one thing about him that isn’t different from the grove. He’s tall. At least six feet four. I’m not the only one who takes in a quick breath at the sight of him standing there.

“Sweet mother of hotness,” Lexie whispers from the desk in front of mine. This must be the first time she’s noticed him.

“I don’t believe Hades was evil at all,” Haden says. “He was purely a man—or god, actually—who was assigned a difficult destiny.” He looks at me for the first time since I entered the classroom. His eyebrows arch, but I can’t tell if it’s a look of recognition or not. His eyes are still jade green but not bright like before, and I can’t tell if his pupils are surrounded by amber fire rings from where I sit. “Being the keeper of the underworld doesn’t make him
evil. Somebody has to do it.”

“No. But being a kidnapper and a rapist does.” I raise my eyebrows right back at him. “I mean, there Persephone was, minding her own business, picking flowers, when all of a sudden Hades bursts out of the ground in a flaming chariot and grabs her. I mean, you can’t just go around grabbing people. That’s not okay.” I narrow my eyes, challenging him. “What kind of person does that?”

Haden glowers right back at me. “Maybe he didn’t see any other options at the moment.”

“Hades is a tool. He obviously couldn’t find a girl to love him, so he just thought he’d steal himself one. There wouldn’t be a story about him being a rapist if people didn’t think he was evil.”

“Rape didn’t have anything to do with it,” Haden says in a tone that seems defensive to me. “Her father—Zeus himself—had already agreed to let Hades have her, and according to tradition, taking a woman by chariot from her home to yours is part of the ancient Greek wedding ceremony.” He sits down. He wears a long-sleeved, gray shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. It bothers me that I notice the muscles flexing as he crosses his arms in front of his chest.

I shake my head. “How can you say that? He took the girl by force and made her his bride. The book calls the myth the Rape of Persephone for a reason.”

“But there are earlier translations of the story than the one cited in the text.” Haden waves his muscular hand. “Maybe Persephone, a virgin”—he winks at me—“went willingly into the underworld in order to explore her own sexual desires.” He smirks and leans back in his chair with his arms crossed. I’m sure my face goes white before heat floods my cheeks, but I refuse to turn away
from his gaze.

“Well. I’m glad to see at least two of my students have a passion for this subject,” Ms. Leeds says. I can see her pretending to fan herself out of the corner of my eye.

My cheeks burn hotter as Lexie and her friends snigger at us.

“Be careful or I’ll assign you two to write a term paper together. I am known for my matchmaking skills, after all.”

That statement makes me turn away from Haden quickly. I stare down at the text on my iPad. Not because I’m backing down from him, but because the last thing I want is to get stuck working alone with this Haden jerk—for any reason.

Ms. Leeds sits on the edge of the table in front of the class, crossing her long legs. “Haden brings up an interesting point that I hope none of you missed. There are many interpretations and versions of these myths other than the ones featured in our textbook. The so-called Rape of Persephone story actually contradicts many of the other myths in which the figure of Persephone appears. In myths such as Orpheus and Eurydice, and Psyche and Cupid, Persephone is portrayed as quite the formidable queen of the underworld, not as a lilting flower, easily taken and tricked by a man. When I was at Berkley, I wrote a paper on this subject. My research showed that there were very early versions of the Persephone myth that claimed that she was not ‘taken’ at all. One version suggested that Persephone, tired of being under the constant watch of an overbearing mother, left the mortal world of her own free will in order to fulfill a greater purpose. She recognized the underworld’s need for a queen and chose to fulfill it.”

“But why would someone change her story?” Lexie asks, not waiting for the teacher to call on her this time.

“As I wrote in my paper: to very patriarchal societies, a tale
about a young maiden who takes her own future into her hands, leaves her home and family in search of her own destiny—and possibly a bit of forbidden love—is a very dangerous story indeed. So, therefore, they changed her story to fit their purposes. To make her a victim—a morality tale to warn girls from wandering too far from home, like Little Red Riding Hood. They changed her story to take away her power. That is the true rape of Persephone, if you ask me.”

I nod in agreement and notice that Lexie does, too.

For the first time, I feel connected to Persephone’s story. Well, Ms. Leeds’s version of it anyway. We’d both left our homes in search of a bigger purpose.

Ms. Leeds launches into the rest of her lecture on other underworld myths, and I can tell she’s trying to spark another lively debate. But I keep quiet after that, and so does Haden. As Bridgette enlightens the class with her perspective on the plight of beautiful women in Greek mythology, I risk a glance back at Haden. He looks up as if he senses my movement, and for the briefest of moments, his eyes seem to flash a fiery mix of amber and jade green.

I run into Tobin on my way from humanities to geometry.

“Hey, superstar,” he says. “You doing okay after your dad’s big announcement?”

“Fine,” I say, “except for pretty much being nominated for class leper.”

I look behind my shoulder, feeling like I am once again being followed. I must look as shaken as I feel when I look back at Tobin, because he puts a hand on my shoulder and asks, “Are you okay? Lexie and her little mafia aren’t getting to you already, are they?”

“No,” I say. “It’s that … I saw
him
again. The guy from the grove. At least, I think it was him—he looks different somehow. But still the same.”

“What?” Tobin says, dropping his hand from my shoulder. “Did you see him somewhere outside? You didn’t go back
there
again, did you?”

“No, he was
here
. He was in my humanities class. He’s a student.”

The tone coming off Tobin is even darker than it was after we found Pear. “What’s his name?” he asks. “Do you know his name?”

“Haden,” I say. “I think it was Haden Lord.”

Tobin takes in a sharp breath.

I look down at my iPad. “Like I said, I’m not a hundred percent positive it’s the same.…”

But Tobin storms off before I finish my sentence.

chapter twenty-three

“What the Tartarus is that?” Garrick asks, his eyes enlarged with horror as he looks from
it
to me and then back to
it
.

“Harpies if I know,” I say under my breath. I’m too busy scanning the room for a certain face to scrutinize the alien mass in front of me.

“Gods, it smells almost as bad as it looks.” Garrick picks up his knife and poses as if he is about to prod the glistening mass with the point of the blade. He hesitates and then pulls the knife back. “I mean, do you think it’s safe?”