"He won't find you here, he won't find you here, he won't find you here," Persephone mumbled under her breath as she wove through throngs of people on the streets of San Francisco. Street vendors lined the sidewalks, calling out their wares to the disarray of passing tourists.

As she walked, people stared at the beautiful girl with pristine features. Her ebony hair swung as she walked and her lips were dark as plums. She knew she was pretty, that's why he wanted her. Shaking her head, Persephone passed by a vendor selling ripe, dark, burgundy pomegranates and shuddered.

"Want a pomegranate, Sephone?" She stopped. She would recognize that mocking voice and horrible nickname anywhere.

Persephone swallowed hard, swore, and turned around to face her worst enemy.

"Come give your husband a little lovin'," said a man, walking out of the shadows of the pomegranate vendor's tent, stretching his shoulders with arrogance.

Hades.