Queen of the Damned

The cicadas were louder than usual. Cassie could hear them through double-paned window glass as well as the closed door of The Crossroads Bar. She was used to it though, having dealt with this for the last ten years. Standing behind the counter, cleaning out the last beer mugs, a breeze trickled past her, scouring her skin like sandpaper. She could suddenly see her breath as if someone had found a way to turn off the oppressive Miami heat. That’s when she felt it again. A breeze so cold it felt like icy tendrils were wrapping around her arms with a strange familiarity. Cassie gasped and dropped the glass she was holding. It shattered at her feet, the shards scattering in every direction.

“No,” she whispered. With no regard for the danger around her, Cassie ran to each window, pushing down on each one to ensure it was tight. The shutters clattered in her wake as she slammed them shut to block out the night. Only when the backdoor was firmly shut and the lock snapped into place did Cassie finally let out the breath she’d been holding. Satisfied, she walked back out to the bar. The first thing she decided to do was clean up the broken beer mug from the floor. She made a mental note to mark it out in the POS while she grabbed the broom from the storage closet. Her mind was so focused on cleaning up and closing out the bar that she didn’t notice the woman sitting with his feet up on a table.

“Fancy a Guinness, love?” She said once her back was to him. Cassie froze. That English accent was so familiar, so haunting. Slowly, she turned to see what she had missed earlier. “‘Ello, sweetheart.” The woman smiled and flashed white, straight teeth. She was gorgeous, in an effortless, timeless kind of way. Tonight, she looked eerily similar to that actress, Angelina Jolie. The last time Cassie saw her she’d looked more like Elizabeth Hurley. She swallowed hard. 

“We’re closed,” she announced with more confidence than she felt. The woman said nothing, her Cheshire grin never faltering. “So get out.” She said when the woman didn’t immediately leave. The woman smiled wider and a shiver ran down Cassie’s spine that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. 

“Not for me, you’re not,” she said finally. “But where are my manners? Hello, Cassandra. Long time, no see.” 

“Could’ve been longer,” she muttered to herself, ignoring the self-satisfied glint in the woman’s eyes. “What are you doing here?” 

“I can’t come see an old friend?” 

“Old friend? Since when the hell were ever friends, Persephone?” 

“I can’t imagine anyone I’ve ever been closer to,” Persephone said. Cassie stared at her knowing that she spoke with complete sincerity. “So, how are you, my dear?” She asked. What on earth was she supposed to say to that? 

“I’ve been better,” she muttered after a moment. “I’d ask how you’ve been, but truthfully? I don’t want to know what’s going on with the queen of the underworld.” She added, infusing as much spite into her voice as possible. Persephone said nothing. She simply smirked then began to examine her perfectly manicured fingernails. They were the color of blood and sharpened to deadly angles. 

“Oh, my sweet friend. Please tell me you haven’t forgotten what day it is,” Persephone said. Cassie scowled at her then glanced at the calendar on the wall under the clock. Right then, she noticed that the clock had stopped at exactly twelve-oh-one. Her eyes moved down to the calendar. It was Tuesday, the fourth of May. Now that it was after midnight, though, it was actually Wednesday, the fifth. 

“Oh god,” Cassie moaned when she finally realized what Persephone meant. Today was ten years to the minute since she last encountered the daughter of Demeter. Her blood immediately ran cold. 

“Not quite, but I’ll take it,” Persephone said smugly. Cassie stared at her, dumbfounded. This could not be happening. The Queen of the Underworld finally stood up from her chair and began to stride around the bar room. Her heels clicked with each step sending a wave of despair through Cassie every time. “So, how is business here at The Crossroads?” 

“Fine,” Cassie said through gritted teeth. Persephone bobbed her head. She stopped to examine a picture hanging on the wall by the front door. It was of Cassie and her former friend and bartender, Derek. He’d since moved on from the business when he realized that Cassie was keeping secrets from him. But there was no way to explain to him what she was. 

“And how are the customers?” Persephone said. There was something in her tone that Cassie chose to ignore. 

“They drink like fishes,” she said. Persephone stopped in her tracks and turned her head toward the bar.

“Now, you know I don’t mean those patrons, Cassandra,” she scolded and Cassie felt heat rise up into her cheeks. She averted her eyes, not wanting to see Persephone’s knowing gaze. “It’s no time to get shy on me now, Cassandra. We have a very special bond, you and I.” 

“A bond that I never wanted any part of,” Cassie spat. “I am doing your job, Persephone!” 

“And you are doing it so well!” 

“I don’t want to do it well! I don’t want to do it at all!” 

“But you are a ferrier, dear Cassandra. If you don’t do it, who else will?” 

“YOU!” Cassie screamed. Persephone’s sickly sweet tone was sending her into a full-blown rage. “You are the Ferrier, Persephone! That’s your job, not mine. And this sick ten-year check-in is beyond infuriating.” She let out a ragged sigh and ran her hands through her hair. This was too much for her to handle. Across the room, Persephone stood with her arms crossed and her lips pursed.

“You know exactly why I have to do it this way,” she said after a moment, her voice hollow, cold. “This is the only way for me to get away from that disgusting thing I have to call a husband, even if only for a moment.” Just as before, she used the “husband card” on Cassie. Ten years ago, it was the same story. Persephone felt trapped in her role as Queen of the Underworld and Ferrier of Lost Souls. She couldn’t handle it all so she delegated her work out to others. 

“I understand that Persephone, but you don’t know what it is like for me,” Cassie said, frustration making her voice shake. “I have no friends, no relationships because I have to be available for any and every soul that comes through that door. You feel trapped in your role? Imagine how I feel! There is nowhere I can go, nothing I can say, and nothing I can do to make this life any easier for myself and it’s all because of you!” She let out a heavy sigh as if she’d been running a marathon, not yelling at a minor goddess. 

Persephone stayed in her spot, her lips still pursed and her arms still crossed across her ample chest. She rolled her eyes and opened her mouth with a ready retort when the unthinkable happened. The front door to The Crossroads Bar exploded open, dust and wind flying in. Everything flurried around the women forcing them to close their eyes and avoid sucking in something that would make them cough. As the dust died down, Cassie was suddenly aware of hot air flowing through the room. With the warmth came the familiar Miami humidity. The air was once again thick sticky and oppressive. What’s more was the physical heat that came with it, as though someone had started a fire. Cassie looked to Persephone for answers, but the goddess was just as shocked as she was. No, she was scared. Her face was pale and her eyes were wide. 

“Shit,” Persephone hissed. After being stagnant for so long, seeing her spring to life startled Cassie. She watched as the goddess took two steps before disappearing as quickly as she arrived. Stunned, Cassie stared at the spot where Persephone had just been. Then, she heard footsteps on the patio outside her bar. A shiver of fear ran down her spine once again. 

“Knock, knock,” an unfamiliar male voice called out. Cassie stood, shocked, behind the bar as someone, or rather something, strode in through the open door. “You wouldn’t happen to know where my wife is, would you?”