Hades let cold silence serve as his answer—which was, of course, no.
The nightmares had been bad since he and Waylon dug up his mother’s body in those woods. At least once a month, his mère visited him with blood seeping from each of the holes where they’d shot her in the back, her eyes regarding him mournfully with an unspoken demand to be avenged.
He was avenging her though. No, he hadn’t killed the Perreault virgin yet. But the spoiled brat she’d waited on hand and foot, only to receive a thankless dismissal in the end had been put in a cage. He was making Persy suffer, therefore extending the humiliation for her father who received daily pictures and videos of his precious daughter in her new habitat.
Hades hadn’t even allowed her to keep her name.
But the nightmares had only ticked up since he took Persy prisoner.
He was beginning to suspect nothing would stop them, save for her death along with the father who stood by while his mother was run down and then shot in cold blood.
So, of course, his prisoner couldn’t help him. And, of course, his answer was no.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” she said in the dark.
He didn’t.
At least he didn’t for several more weeks.
But then one evening, he walked in with that night’s conquest and found Ellie still in his room.
She was frowning over a thin hook in her hand. A crochet needle, he dimly recognized. He remembered their mother using one to make blankets for all the folks with new babies in their unincorporated bayou as they watched TV together during her weekend visits.
Even more surprising than that, the prisoner was outside her cage and appeared to be pointing out a stitch that Ellie had gotten wrong.
“It’d be easier to learn the hair kind you were telling me about,” Ellie grumbled, yanking at the yarn. “Or just buy my Algebra teacher a baby blanket.”
“People love gifts extra when you put your heart into it,” Persy answered. “And admit it, don’t you feel better about getting that C? Life’s problems tend to go away when you put a mind to helping others.”
A memory hit him then, with the force of his first F-350.
Nanan Cherise complaining to his mother, “Why you choose to spend so much time doing even more things for people who ain’t your kin, I don’t even know. You got problems of your own to be attending to on your one full day off.”
“Life’s problems tend to go away when you put a mind to helping others,” his mère had answered, her voice a melodic singsong.
As if remembering right along with him, Ellie said, “My mère used to say that.”
Persy smiled fondly. “She said it to me too. Growing up, she really did make it quite difficult for me to act like a spoiled brat.”
Hades scrunched his brow, not appreciating this contradiction to his narrative or that Persy was sharing memories of a woman she had no business talking about, considering what her father had done. He expected Ellie to call the Perreault virgin out on her bullshit.
But to his shock, Ellie burst out laughing. As if it was okay for his prisoner to be out of her cage. As if they were friends. But Ellie didn’t have friends.
And she never laughed. Not since he told her about what had happened to their mother. What the hell was this?
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
Ellie abruptly broke off laughing and dropped the needle like she’d been caught by the police with a stolen firearm.
“I was just….she was just…”
Persy came up with an answer before his sister did. “We lost track of time. I’ll just get back in my cage.”
“Yeah, get back in your cage,” Ellie said, resetting from laughing teenager to her usual sullen base zero. She shoved all the crochet supplies into a large tote bag from The Quarter Stitch.
He’d never been one to craft himself, but he recognized the simple logo from the popular knitting and needlepoint boutique over on Chartres Street.
What the hell? He glared as Ellie scooted out the door like she should have done over a half hour ago.
