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a finger on her right hand as she had bee n told was tradition among Hell Hounds when the ring was given to a newly found mate.
    She curled up on the bed and cried.

CHAPTER 3
     
     
    Dad’s death.
    The funeral.
    I cried and cried. I was angry, hurt, sad…I didn’t know which emotion I should act on. They were all raging through me so fast, I really wasn’t sure which one I was feeling at any given moment or if I was feeling them all at once. But all I could do was cry.
    Would it have changed anything if I had of acted on all of my emotions? Would it have made a difference? Or would I have just hurt myself?
    I guess I’ll never know.
    Or maybe I should say , it’s probably for the best that I’ll never know.
                                --Raven Weir’s journal
     
    Raven wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “I’m still not totally sold on this mate thing for life, but I can’t stand to see anything happen to you. It’s not fair. I want us to go out and do all the things normal teenagers do—go out to the movies, hang out at the pizza place, and stuff like that. Is that too much to ask? Why did this have to happen?” Raven sighed.
    She looked at the ring on her right hand for a couple of minutes before slipping the note under her pillow. She rolled off the bed, and without a glance at anything, she headed straight to the bathroom.
    A few minutes later, a much calmer, more focused Raven emerged. All traces of tears were gone, even her eyes were no longer red and puffy. She looked at the ring again and anger surged through her. The air in the room became almost electrical. The lights flickered.
    “The stories aren’t exaggerated, are they?”
    Raven whirled around.
    “You are as powerful as they feared you would be.” Persephone stepped out of the shadows filling the far corner of the room.
    “I haven’t exactly been paying attention to the stories.” Raven watched the willowy woman. “Persephone?”
    The woman turned to face the shadows and moved her hands through the air in front of her in a graceful arch as if she were caressing something.  She turned back to face Raven and let her hands drop to her sides. A smile lit up her face, making her pale, crystal eyes shine. “Yes, I’m Persephone. And you’re Raven Weir, Guardian of Atlantis. You look much better than the last time we met.”
    “A little more alive?”
    “Yes. Definitely more alive. And you must stay that way.”
    “That’s the plan. At least it’s my plan. Don’t know about everyone else’s though. It seems like there’s always someone who wants me dead. It’s quickly becoming a daily routine. Wake up. Eat breakfast. Stop bad guy from killing me. Repeat in the afternoon.”
    “Staying alive is a very good plan. And it’s why I’m here.” She brushed several strands of pale blonde hair out of her face.
    “So you’re not here just to chat?” asked Raven.
    “I would like nothing better than to sit and chat. I haven’t done that in a long time.” Longing filled Persephone’s voice.
    “How did you get in here?” asked Raven.
    “I used the shadows.”
    “You used the shadows?” Raven sounded skeptical. “I didn’t realize the Shadow Express stopped in my room.”
    “Shadow Express.” Persephone laughed. “I like that. I can use the shadows as doorways. It’s one of the perks for being stuck in Hades.”
    “Right. And next you’re going to tell me I can use them too.”
    “Actually, you can.” Persephone smiled.
    “I don’t think—do what?” Raven’s eyes widened.
    Persephone smiled. “You can use the shadows as doorways too. You were an occupant of Hades, even if it was just for a few minutes instead of permanent like it was supposed to have been.”
    “I can use the shadows as doors too?” Raven’s mouth gapped open for several seconds before she remembered to close it. “I can move from place to place using the shadows? What’s the catch?”
    “Yes, you can go