Page 51 of Love and Death
Persephone holds up a hand to cut the hellhound off as she moves to stand beside me on the narrow path.
Taking a deep breath, she speaks as gently as she can. “Hazel, it is not his body, but his soul, that gives us reason for concern.”
“What of his soul?” I ask, the fight in me now fully seeped from my bones.
Cerberus’ eyes briefly flicker warily to the goddess before returning to me. “I can no longer sense its presence ... In fact, I can no longer senseanymortal qualities in him.”
“What are you trying to tell me?”
“We cannot say for certain, but—”
“I believe his soul has faded,” Cerberus cuts her off, unable to hold it in any longer. “It tends to happen when a mortal has been kept too long in the Underworld, lost,and unable to move on to the afterlife. I was worried about it when I first brought him into the arena, but now … I am quitecertainof it.”
“Then why have I not met the same fate? I have been here far longer than he has.”
Cerberus’ mouth opens and closes, his brow furrowing as he fails to come up with a response to this.
“You must remember, Hazel,” Persephone says, stepping in to help him, “that your body does not lie in the mortal realm where time and decay hasten such things. Nor were you physically harmed in the taking of your life.”
I want to be furious, but all I can do is quietly ask my next question, “What does this mean for him? If his soul has faded, as you so claim, then who … or what, is he now?”
“It means that he is becoming trapped within his own mind. Within his own memories of life before death. It means—”
“No more riddles, please,” I beg, my head swimming. “I do not want your gentle turn of phrase. I want the truth.”
Persephone turns to Cerberus pleadingly, her eyes edged in sorrow.
“It means he is now entirely at odds with himself. Who you see and what he is experiencing within, are no longer compatible. I believe your kind calls these beings wraiths,” he says bluntly, the word sounding wrong in his mouth, before nodding to the queen. “Release her.”
My next breath pushes the saccharine scent offlowers from my lungs. The moor’s earthy air rushes in to fill its place, bringing with it all the bitterness of emotion.
“No,” I sob, the hellhound’s hold on me the only thing keeping me from falling to my knees. “How can that be true? If he’s a wraith, then why does he still look like my father?”
“That is where we find ourselves at a loss,” the goddess admits.
“I may no longer be able to sense it, but it is possible that there is a remnant of himself still holding on,” Cerberus says, uncertainty lacing his voice. “There may even be a moment or two of lucidity left in him. I have to admit that I have never seen a soul turn into a wraith so quickly. At least, not one of his nature.”
“Neither have I,” agrees Persephone.
I blink up at Cerberus through a blur of tears. “Then can we not still save him?”
He shakes his head slowly before answering, “He would have to be brought before the judges, but at this rate, there is simply not enough time. Even if it were possible, I do not think there is enough of him left to pull back.”
“Then, at least let me go to him in his final moments,” I say with a heavy heart. “Let me say goodbye. Is that not why you brought me here?”
Cerberus sighs deeply, nodding once as he releases his hold on me. Turning, I waste no time stepping past the queen and onto the thick bed of moss that encircles my father.
As I draw closer, the damage that’s been done to himreveals itself to be even more gruesome to behold than I already thought.
I can hardly look at him; my mouth goes dry, and I suddenly turn to heave, but nothing comes up.
The next thing I know, my nausea is replaced with burning anger as I whirl on Cerberus and Persephone.
“Who did this to him?” I demand, my eyes fixing on the hellhound and his own bloodied clothes.
“What? You cannot possibly think,” he starts, holding his hands up in surrender, “Hazel, I swear on my life, I did not inflict those injuries. He did that to himself.”
“I don’t believe you, Father would never—”
