Drag Me Up Read online

  The show opens with a desolate piano and two bodies swaying in the center of the stage. Within minutes, the anticipation is palpable, and the tension is like a thick smoke filling the room. Hades can feel the air buzzing around them as the music builds, and he is helpless to tear his eyes away for anything. It seems everyone is. Even Ares has a look of awe on his face as more performers flit across the stage. Although soon enough, those performers are soaring through the air far above them, moving as well as they had on the ground, and all that they do is surreal. It’s almost superhuman.

  The room is soon a chorus of gasps and shrieks above the music of the show as they climb towards a climactic crescendo. In the midst of it all, Hades finds that his eyes are continually drawn to one particular figure at the head of each scene. He doesn’t know if this is the star Dio spoke about, but she is very much a star, and everything she does is fluid, as if she had been born to move like that, like water, even —and especially— through the air. It’s mesmerizing to watch, this allure she exudes, bending the air around her to her will. He can tell: it isn’t simply a show or performance to her. This is where she lives and thrives, and to be invited inside is a privilege she has granted them explicitly. He is grateful.

  When she descends upon the open space between the seats and the stage, interacting with the crowd without ever breaking stride, Hades is ensnared. In the wash of the lights, he can make out thick curls sitting atop her head like a crown and a wicked curve to her red-painted lips. When her eyes meet his, alive and passionate, he feels more bare than he ever has, as if she’s looking right through him and into the abyss beneath. Clearing his throat, he drops his gaze and tries to gather his wits, but that look leaves something in its wake that gnaws at him insistently. Like a mark. Or a wound. When he looks up again, she’s moved away down the floor, but his gaze chases her with reckless abandon. Yes, she must certainly be the star. At the very least, she is the one he wants to meet.

  2

  Persephone

  Persephone peers around the thick purple curtains and out into the theatre as she takes a few deep breaths. Intermission has just begun, but few people are racing for the doors. Instead, there is an excited buzz filling the space, the energy electric as it dances across her skin. She searches for Aphrodite in the crowd, but while she remembers the seat number on the ticket she’d given her, she has no clue where anything in this theatre is located. She looks hard nonetheless, only giving up when Calliope calls her name.

  “Did you see him?” Calliope questions, excitement in her eyes.

  “Who?” Persephone returns as she begins touching up her makeup, catching the other woman’s gaze in the mirror before her.

  “Hades. Front row."

  “Front row?”

  Dionysos had mentioned to Persephone that his uncle, owner of the casino and leader of the district, would be coming to the show, but she had tried not to think about it since. It had been weird enough to hear him refer to Hades, the stuff of legends and scary stories through each and every one of Khaos Falls’ districts, as something as mundane as his uncle. To think further about it would have certainly smothered what confidence she had left. Trying to protect that confidence now feels like cupping her hands around a flame in the middle of a blizzard.

  “Does he - look like he’s enjoying it?” she asks tentatively.

  “I would say so.” Calliope’s voice hits a higher pitch. “He looks very engaged.”

  “Well - good. Right? That’s what we want?”

  “Absolutely. If we can extend this residency, we have a better chance of him signing the next show here too. This is the best venue in Khaos Falls and one of the best in the Aegean.”

  Granted, it’s probably the only venue in the city that can handle a Cirque des Coeurs show, but Persephone doesn’t point that out. Khaos Falls is one of the most lucrative cities in the world, and along with Casino Asphodel itself, the Pantheon Theatre is famous. It has seen many of the greatest names in entertainment, and now they’re joining that company. Persephone is still processing it.

  “Keep it up,” Calliope encourages her, squeezing her shoulders. “You’re killing it.”

  “I got you,” Persephone manages.

  As Calliope moves off, Persephone stands and looks at herself in the mirror. It’s hard to reconcile with the fact that she made it here after clawing her way through the mud just for a chance. Part of her still waits all too patiently for the other shoe to drop, waking up each morning with the anticipation that it had all been a dream. She inhales. I deserve to be here.

  Turning away with a smile, she returns to the gap in the curtains.

  Her mother isn’t there of course although Persephone suspects that Adonis might be, and not just to report back to the elder. He still calls every now and again, trying to mend a bridge that he’d charred to ash long ago. If he had it his way, she would be at home cooking his dinner right now instead of in front of a sold out audience. And as for her mother, well… Demeter had nearly torn down the walls of their dining hall when Persephone had expressed her desire to pursue performing arts despite the fact she had already done what Demeter had wanted, wasting six years on an MBA she’d never use. Demeter had frozen Persephone’s accounts the moment the mere idea of attending Terpsichore’s School of the Arts had formed in her daughter’s mind, which is how Zeus had gotten through the door with his little proposal.

  Zeus… He isn’t here tonight either, but she isn’t entirely convinced that he wouldn't be keeping an eye on her if he weren’t away on business for the next two weeks. She also doesn’t doubt the job has fallen to someone else in his stead. They’ve been playing that game of “pin the tail on her whereabouts” since she got back from Deucalion Heights, where Calliope’s production company is currently based out of. She’s learning to tolerate it.

  Despite that, she can’t help but smirk in between acts. After all, she’d done it. She’d scored the lead in one of Calliope’s renowned shows, and she’d been able to bring it to her hometown, even if it didn’t come free. Even if it came with chains.

  Tonight isn’t about that though.

  “Five minutes!” somebody calls into the room, sending everybody bustling.

  “Five minutes,” Persephone repeats to herself. “You got this. Come on.”

  Tonight is about making a good impression. While Le Cirque des Coeurs might be the most coveted production in the Aegean with dozens of independent shows under its umbrella, the Pantheon is one of the most coveted venues, and not simply because of its elegant beauty and famed design. It was also owned and run by a man Persephone had been led to believe was a figment of Khaos Falls’s imagination.

  If she went only by the stories she’d heard, she would conclude that Hades didn’t exist at all. Aphrodite had met him several times for matters of business and described him in explicit detail, but a secondhand account hardly instills an unshakable belief, even if it had come from her best friend. All her life prior to that, he’d been an urban legend, the story you tell kids to keep them away from The Underworld and all of its temptations. Demeter had only ever told her once. She was not to ever, for any reason at all, step foot over the River Styx. Now she’s scheduled to be here four nights a week for six weeks straight, more if things go well. Judging by Calliope’s energy currently, things are going very well. And now Persephone has just been alerted to the fact that not only is Hades himself there in the building. He is sitting in the front row.

  She almost manages to forget once the third act starts. This is not only the closing act but the cultivation of her most challenging work. It is an entire dance routine orchestrated among the silks strung from the high ceiling of the Pantheon. Calliope and Orpheus had taken great risks in writing and directing it, the aerials far more advanced than any other show they had ever done, and they were trusting her with it. Persephone falls into it headfirst.

  She loves being in the air. Flying is her first love — or perhaps more accurately, defying gravity is. The high
er she goes, the lighter she feels. She climbs through the sky, her svelte figure entwined in the soft fabric as she hangs and dips, contorting into a complex tale that reads differently for all who are watching. That’s what she adores about Le Cirque. It combines so many mediums to tell a story, and it does so with acrobatics and allure and arduous temptation. The music lifts her as much as the silks do, and her movements are as crucial as the dialogue of a play. In fact, they are the dialogue, and she delivers them with passion poured over each and every line. The crowd grows smaller below her, as do the others on the stage, but the intensity of their eyes follow her to the apex. It is the only thing that can touch her here. It is the only thing that can reach.

  Yet once she’s on the ground again, her feet carrying her across the stage and down the stairs, she is reminded, rather harshly, of their guest of honor. And once she spots him, the title hardly fits his vast presence.

  It isn’t hard to single him out, taller than all of them in his tailored black suit. The stubble that lines his sharp face blends beneath the lights, his dark hair cut in a smooth tapered fade. It seems he’s got enough bulk on him to hold himself in a fight, but he looks wily as a fox just the same. And all of it dressed in dark brown skin that looks as soft as the satin of his tie. Even in the flesh, he appears every bit like a myth, cloaked in shadow and smoke yet as luminescent as a god. It simply isn’t fair.

  No wonder they say he doesn’t exist. How can he?

  She doesn’t know how long she looks, but when she meets his gaze, the air around them seems to shift. The whole room does. Those eyes are the worst thing about him. Or the best thing. She isn’t sure, but either way, there is something so dynamic about these two dark orbs that sends chills down her spine and beads of sweat down her back. She feels stained by them, marked across her skin by the allure they exude. It’s almost as though there are embers underneath the onyx, a faint glow hungry for kindling. They bore into her with insurmountable intensity, and she feels it long after he looks away. Why does he look away?

  Someone has to nudge her calf before she reels it in, returning mind and body to the performance. For the first time that night, she’s out of breath. After that, she can’t even remember finishing the show.

  She’s just wrapped up washing her face when Dionysos walks into the outer dressing room, rushing towards her with that charming grin on his baby face. She likes him a lot, enjoys his company, but more so, she enjoys his energy. He picks her up off of her feet the moment she turns to face him, and she laughs furiously as she’s swung around. Once she’s back on the ground, she kisses his cheek and extends her deepest gratitudes.

  “You made all this what it is,” he breathes, glancing over his shoulders as if to make sure no one else hears him. “You stole the show. Everyone out there is talking about you, Seph. You were amazing.”

  “Thank you, Dio, for all of this,” she replies, patting his shoulder. “I - don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe we did it. I was so nervous.”

  “Not a soul alive would’ve guessed. You were fucking awesome. And listen, after party in your honor downstairs in Elysium. Drinks are on the house. We’re gonna celebrate tonight and all the nights to come!”

  Persephone hesitates. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m really tired, and-”

  “Hey, come on. This is all about you. Listen, just a few drinks with everyone, some pictures, and I’ll get you home myself. I promise. But first, Uncle wants to meet you. He loved the show. And trust me. He’s a tough critic, so this is good news.”

  She freezes, eyes widening as she stares at him. “—what?”

  “Yeah, he loved you!” She figures he must be embellishing. “He’s already asked about the next run. Go ahead and get dressed, and you can meet us right outside, alright?”

  All Persephone can do is nod as he kisses each of her cheeks and races off, patting other performers on the shoulder as he passes and leaving a trail of excitement in his wake. She watches him disappear from view before she starts to panic, racing back into her private dressing room to retrieve her evening gown. Aphrodite wouldn’t let her leave home without one, no doubt foreseeing this aspect of newfound notoriety. She’s grateful for that now.

  Why Hades would want to meet her is beyond Persephone though. She may have been the lead, but this whole thing is Calliope’s masterful work. She would certainly be a much better conversationalist than Persephone. It was why the latter had been drawn to this type of performance to begin with. She would much rather memorize lines than make up her own, but not having to say lines at all is marginally better. Dancing comes natural to her. Talking never has. Demeter had always said she wasn’t a people person, her tongue too sharp and her intentions too blunt. That truth had never bothered her until this very moment. What if she says something foolish, and it costs the production? What if she ruins what they’ve accomplished tonight in one fell swoop?

  Perhaps she’s overreacting, but she can’t possibly make that determination herself. She’s dialing Aphrodite’s number the moment she closes the door, but before she can complete the call, the door opens again, and the woman herself strides in with a big grin. Her thick, brown hair falls in waves around her tanned face, bright brown eyes gleaming with a characteristic mischief. Aphrodite is the embodiment of divinity. It’s no wonder she’s more celebrated in this city than anyone, Zeus included. This is the kind of person Hades should be standing outside to see.

  “Girl, are you aware that the leader of the Underworld is waiting for you outside?” Aphrodite immediately hisses before they’re embracing each other in a giddy hug. “He is dying to meet you!”

  “How you know?” Persephone questions sarcastically, already wound up with emotion.

  “He keeps asking for you. Dio is out there talking you up, and for good reason.” Pulling back, Aphrodite meets her gaze. “You killed it tonight. I mean I knew you didn’t snatch the lead off a fluke, but I was completely awestruck, Seph. You did the damn thing. I’ve never seen you do anything like that.”

  Persephone drops her gaze as it all sinks in. This is a triumph in every sense of the word, but she’d never truly considered what might come with it. She isn’t good with people. Avoiding them is half the reason she ended up in the air, but this? This is something else entirely. This is networking. This is politics. This is her mother’s territory, and Persephone had been fleeing from that her whole life.

  Aphrodite seems to notice she’s shaking. “What are you so nervous about?”

  Persephone gives her a dumbstruck look. “Are you serious? It’s Hades!”

  “Okay. Narrow it down.” She’s so good at this, guiding Persephone through her worst anxieties. It’s like a superpower.

  “Well, first of all, he’s in charge of our residency here. If I mess this up—”

  “You won’t.”

  “But if I do, I could ruin it for everyone.”

  Aphrodite doesn’t appear at all worried, but of course she doesn’t. She never does. Persephone is the one who worries. She’s the thinker. Aphrodite is the doer.

  “Next?” Aphrodite urges, eyes fully prepared to roll.

  Persephone scowls at her. “Next, do you know how much trouble this can be if someone sees us together and reports that shit back?”

  “What trouble? He runs the casino, and you work here. It’s business as far as anyone else is concerned. Everyone knows all that man does is work.”

  “And what about my mother, huh?”

  Aphrodite shrugs. “What about her? What can she do to you that she ain’t already done?”

  Persephone chews her lip. “And Zeus?”

  “Who cares about Zeus!” Aphrodite scoffs, exasperated.

  “Um, I’m willing to bet that Hades cares.”

  That’s another piece of the puzzle that is the legend of Hades. He’s Zeus’s secret weapon. And the most dangerous man in Khaos Falls.

  “Doesn’t mean he’s dangerous to you. He’s got a code, unlike his brother.” Aphrodite softens n
onetheless. “Seph, chill, alright? I wouldn’t even be debating this if I thought it would hurt you in any way. The man just wants to meet you, that’s all. And if nothing else, it will be good for what you’re trying to do here. Have a drink, talk some shit, and then we can go home. It doesn’t have to be anything worth worrying about.”

  “But - what if he doesn’t just want to meet me? What if he’s only doing this to gather information for Zeus?”

  “I seriously doubt that. Spying on a girl for his brother? That is beneath him on so many levels, and I don’t think Zeus wants him or anyone else knowing how much of a dog he’s been. Besides, trashing his marriage is the only thing Zeus seems perfectly capable of doing on his own, so.”

  “Okay, but what if?”

  Aphrodite’s eyes do roll now. “It’s not like he’s gonna kick you to the curb. If anything, it’s more reason to keep you employed here, so it works out either way, girl. Plus, if anyone can sniff that out, it would be you, and then at least you’d know, right? You won’t be walking in here every night clueless.”

  “I’ll just walk in here every night thinking about it.” Persephone huffs. “Even if he isn’t a - spy, I still gotta deal with Zeus. How long do you think Hades will like me around if I start bringing trouble to his doorstep?”

  “It’s Zeus. If anyone knows that bastard is trouble, it’s Hades. That ain’t on you. And if Hades likes you as much as I know he will, you don’t gotta worry about that anyway.”

  “‘Dite, that’s not the point here. I-”

  “Okay, listen.” Aphrodite grips Persephone’s shoulders, forcing her to stop as their eyes meet. “Forget everything else right now. Do you wanna meet him or not?” Persephone looks away before she shrugs her shoulders. “If you do this, you do it because you want to. And if you don’t want to, I’ll go out there right now and tell him you’re not coming, but it is completely up to you. You don’t owe anybody anything. Not him, not your mother, and certainly not Zeus.”