Living in hell proved much more challenging than living amongst mortals.
The challenge among mortals was simply to help them, but not to the point where they came back for more. To be constantly reminded of it and challenged to do nothing about it proved to infuriate and depress Persephone in equal measure. She’d always hoped leaving her mother’s influence would do her good, but she’d never imagined hell would be this bad.
None of this was apparent to Persephone on her first day. She had been handed the keys to her new establishment by her captor—the idea of lover was disconcerting. She opened the shop doors and was greeted by the most odd cat she’d ever seen.
She knew he was immortal, obvious by the lack of an abdomen and the open raw flesh that peeked through his blue waistcoat. He was strangely more aristocratic than she’d ever seen a cat. He yawned hugely and arched his back to stretch. His forked tail thumped on the countertop. “Good morning, my queen. What can I do for you?”
Persephone was incredulous, “What are you exactly, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I’m a reanimated werecat. Now I live here, waiting for my mistress.” He gestured at a portrait of a snow white cat with her full weight on the grey werecat’s back. Her snooty expression was a bit disconcerting, but the werecat’s expression was still that of utmost love and adoration. The letters around the oval portrait spelled out Choupette. “Isn’t she a proper aristocat? Perfectly horrendous.” He held a rose to her as a toast and the rose immediately flaked into ashes, the petals breaking off and shimmering into dust.
Persephone smiled. “I love roses too.”
The werecat mewled appreciatively. “I’m Maximillian, and I’m enchanted to make your acquaintance. Perhaps we can grow them here. The only ones we can acquire are castoffs that flow down the river. We’ve never been able to grow them here. My lord has charged me with your well-being, but as my queen, you are to choose what it is that you will do here.”
“I’m the queen,” Persephone said slowly. She was a bit incredulous that her situation had led her to this strange conclusion. Persephone looked around at the decaying foliage that was anchored to gnarled steel poles. “I first need to get some bearing. Why is there a flower shop in the Underworld?”
Maximillian’s tail curled into a question. He rubbed his face with his paws. “When souls cross the river, they come here to know their time for atonement—how long it is that they must stay here before going to the other place, which is back up. It’s not particularly suited for—”
“Why did he give me the keys?” Persephone flashed the iron key wrought with an inlaid ruby rose.
The werecat startled before regaining his composure and continuing on, “The Master preferred you to have accommodations similar to that of your previous life. There is a reason why the above-dwellers call this hell, and in your best interests, we feel to expose you to it gradually.”
Max—as he bid her to call him—thought it would be best for her to first be acquainted with the merchandise, while he checked out customers. He levitated to the closed sign and flipped it over with a swish of his forked tail. The door swung open with a strong draft and a stream of ghostly apparitions steamed in. They made a grab for whatever stem looked the least dead and clambered into a line at the register.
Maximillian jumped onto the counter and opened the register draw.
The customer opened his palm and a whirl of light goldfish emerged. Max gobbled it up and licked his lips. Then his body convulsed and he barfed out metal coins that rattled into the register. After each transaction, he closed the register door and a paper receipt printed, tracking the shop’s earnings.
Persephone watched this silently for several moments, then, clutching the inventory list clipboard, decided to explore the backroom on her own. The room was filled with shelves that had mason jars labeled with a strip of duct tape. Most of the contents were dried plants or flying vermin. Persephone browsed the shelves, cautiously cleaning the dust off some of them and playing with the little animals in others. She didn’t take them out, as she didn’t really know what would happen if they did escape. Unbeknownst to her, as she gingerly set down the plants, they started to blossom—little dandelion buds popped up where her step touched the dirt floor. Eventually, she yawned and decided to take a rest on the futon that was near the entrance.
A scorpion’s forked tail extended out and was followed by a sleek black body holding a tray that precariously balanced a teapot and some tuna cakes. He looked disheartened to see his sleeping mistress. The tray vanished in a vapor as he put his paws to her forehead.
“Oh my,” he said to himself, “well, my queen . . . this is your first time here. Darkness does take a toll on the soul. I’d better let Hades know about this.” His tail extended and lengthened to curl around the cord of an enormous bell that was hidden in the awning of the storeroom. He pulled it down and the room shook with the sound. It was like a grandfather clock striking noon.
Persephone didn’t stir.
Maximillian’s ear perked and veered towards footsteps approaching. He turned and greeted his master with a lowering of his head. “Good morning, sir. How was the judgement hall today? Not as rowdy as normal, I hope?”
“Yes, Max, that’s exactly how it was. I’m more concerned with our new acquisition?”
“You did force her hand, sir. I’m surprised she isn’t crying or angry. She’s probably even more irritatingly difficult than you. You must have come to the conclusion that you’ve brought the daughter of the harvest goddess to the one place her power will die. You’re choking the life out of her. She’s become emancipated from the Underworld’s drain on her.”
“She’s immortal.”
“She’s a goddess of the living in the land of the dead. She’s not meant to be here, my liege. I adored her from the moment I laid eyes on her. But she belongs in the world of the living, not here, watching this world choke the life out of her.”
“This tiredness is temporary. All my brothers have experienced it during visits. It will dissipate with time.”
“She’s very weak, sir. Are you sure this isn’t sudden?”
“She is more powerful than you think. Her new abilities will take time to fully awaken. Her mother made sure to dull her abilities for a millennium. She needs time.”
“She doesn’t look like a god. More like a washed-up mortal that you conned into coming here.”
Hades ignored the kooky cat and scooped up the exhausted woman in his arms. He disappeared in a sprout of flames. Maximillian stared open-mouthed at the spot where he’d vanished. There was a bed of soft flowering moss. His tail unconsciously swung around to the moss and finding it was in fact that, he smiled. Max chose that spot to curl into a nap.
An icy fire was brewing in the grate when Hades arrived. There was a three-headed dog drooping heavily on the brick before it. The canine’s powerful legs were twitching as if in his dream, he was chasing after something he enjoyed. The house itself was sheathed in tapestries with shifting scenes depicting battles. There were a mess of black and white photographs on the mantlepiece depicting three brothers, a woman in white, several of the doberman slobbering on the fireplace with Hades. These were punctuated by delicate vases filled with orchids which sat on either side, framing the fireplace. Before the fireplace was a set of matching suede sofas and an armchair. Between these was a heavy varnish coffee table which held several worn journals, a well-thumbed copy of the book of the dead, some glittering black crystals and oddly, a white lily encased in a thick display case. Along with a very large signed, framed color photograph of Adele. The ceiling was a map of the constellations and would shift between that, a world view, and a map of the underworld. It was lit by footprints and nameplates showing what everyone was doing.
On one wall built into the brick wall was a set of two beds, one stacked on top of the other. It was here that Hades gingerly placed Persephone. A thick dust settled off her and Hades was startled. She looked skeletal, like the whole aura of spring had been taken from her. He ran his fingers through her thin limp hair. He parted her hair when he felt an unnatural metal edge. On her head was the cold steel of a crown. The crown glimmered into existence for a few seconds before fading into smoke.
He sighed heavily.
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