by Melody Rose
“If you tell me it was the show, that you were just caught up in the performance, I completely understand. It was intense for me too, and sometimes things just get away from you like that and--”
Seeing that he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, I leaned in and kissed him. I swallowed his words, burying his doubts and concerns with the intensity of my lips on his. I stroked his chin with my thumb as Ansel leaned into me, and once again, our mouths molded to one another to find a comfortable and alluring rhythm.
Suddenly, Ansel broke away. “Okay, so what are you telling me here? Because I’m confused.”
“All of this,” I said as I gestured out to the dancing couples around us, to the twinkling lights underneath the stars, to our absurd but romantic outfits. “It’s going to end soon. I think we should enjoy every moment of it. While it lasts.”
Ansel’s gaze softened, and hope flourished in his eyes. “I’ll take all the time I can get with you, even if it’s only one night.”
As if on cue, the thudding beat from before transitioned into something softer and slower. Immediately, students coupled up and swayed to the music. Ansel and I stood awkwardly for a moment, still taking up space in the middle of the dance floor. We looked anywhere but at each other, unsure of what to say but both knowing what we wanted to do.
Then Ansel opened up his palm and held it out to me, a silent invitation to dance. I watched myself put my hand in his, felt his light touch on the small of my back as he pushed me closer to him. We didn’t spin into a waltz or anything, but we twirled in a slow circle, swaying to the music as we danced together.
I tucked my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes. I listened to his heart beat, its own form of music, as we swayed. The feel of his arms around me soothed my own heartbeat. I let myself be held, be comforted by his touch.
While there was a flicker of fear that all of this would disappear in the morning, once Eros agreed to reverse everything, I told myself it didn’t matter. I wanted this moment, this time with Ansel, so I could remember it. It would be a story I kept close to my heart for the rest of my life.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Ansel suggested. His mouth was dangerously close to my ear that I shivered at the closeness and at his suggestion.
My mouth popped open at the idea, and my brain stalled.
“Only if you want to,” Ansel added quickly, the sultry nature of his offer fading away with the concern that I wanted what he wanted.
Did I want what he was offering? I had only just come to the idea of kissing and dancing and holding one another. But the thought of more, of being as close to him as I could possibly be, didn’t frighten me. In fact, it thrilled me. A heat curled in my stomach, a fire I hadn’t felt in a long time.
I met Ansel’s eye so he could see the seriousness of my answer. “Yes.”
The soldier jumped a little, a literal skip in his step as he pulled away from me but never relinquished my hand. He dragged me off the dance floor, breaking into a run. I threw my head back and laughed at his enthusiasm.
I couldn’t believe what we were about to sneak off and do. Sure, dozens of other couples had probably already gone off and had several rounds of passionate sex at this point. But this was Ansel and me. Me and Ansel! It was incredible to think that we had reached this point, one I had secretly wanted to get to ever since I had met him last year since I had stepped into his fire and calmed him down from his supernova self.
Only this time, there would be no quelling the fire building in the two of us.
Unfortunately, a voice broke through our excitement. It called out to the pair of us, dousing us both as easily as if they’d thrown a bucket of cold water over us.
“Ansel! Cheyenne!” Tené called out from her spot on the bench next to the god of lust. “Come here, please. Eros would like to speak with you.”
26
My spine stiffened at Tené’s words. I wanted to clap back at her and say that Eros could talk to me later. But as if he sensed my defiance, Ansel squeezed my hand and led me forward to the garden tableau where the two Olympic Officials and the god sat, waiting for us.
Fiona still sat at Eros’s feet while Tené sat on his right, looking as though she wanted to melt into him. The god enjoyed having two beautiful women so close to him. It was written all over his face, from the smirk on his lips to the twinkle in his eye.
Part of me wanted to smack the smugness right out of him. This god thought it fun to play with these demigods who did nothing but live to serve the gods. We created chaos on campus, and while we managed to handle it, it was still a cruel trick. He manipulated people. He forced them to feel things they might not have been ready to feel or acknowledge.
Not only that, but we had to lure Eros here. That clearly told me that he had no intention of ever fixing his mistake. If he even considered it a mistake.
A burning distaste for the god grew in my stomach, and I used all of my self-control to keep my mouth shut as we approached the three authority figures.
“What can we do for you, Eros?” Ansel said with a slight bow of his head.
I didn’t acknowledge the god in any way. In fact, I dropped Ansel’s hand so that I could cross my arms in front of my taste, allowing my dislike to come through in my body language rather than my words.
“It is not your skills that we need, son of Apollo, though your service is always appreciated,” Eros said with a polite nod to Ansel. Then his golden eyes shifted harshly to me.
I didn’t dare look away. I leveled my hardened gaze to his hateful one and matched him glare for glare. He might have been a god, but he threatened my friends, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let him get off easy, not if I could help it.
While we locked eyes on one another, something clicked in the back of my brain. It sounded like a key turning in a lock, a door opening, an invitation. A curiosity crawled up my spine and settled at the threshold of that new door. Something called to me beyond that door, asking me to walk through.
I blinked once, breaking eye contact with Eros for the briefest of moments. It happened in that millisecond when I looked away from him. My vision narrowed as though I were looking through a straw. Everything except for the center image was black and hazy, indecipherable shadows circling around the focal point.
The image at the center was clear as day. Though shrunk down, I could still distinguish items within the scene. Even the characters in the story were known to me.
Eros sat in a backless throne of gold, strumming his lyre. Stunning white angel’s wings protruded from Eros’s tan back. They stretched and curled into the sky with immense power. Each feather was as white as snow and straightened to perfection, a single piece that contributed to the beauty of the wing as a whole.
Next to him was a small golden column, like an end table, with an assortment of shiny fruit. Grapes, strawberries, and slices of oranges spread out across the platter, barely picked at. On the other side of his throne was one of the most infamous weapons in history.
I gasped upon seeing it, knowing immediately that I was observing greatness. The bow and arrow used to make beings fall in and out of love stood in a holster designed to match the shape of the weapon. Like the rest of the environment, it was also gold. It had the heart-shaped curve of the bow, while the single arrow was stunning with its geometrically perfect head to the sleek, slim body of the shaft.
My father made the weapon per the request of his wife. Even though Aphrodite bedded Ares, and bore the Erotes, Hephaestus couldn’t turn down a challenge like this one. Eros needed something to channel his overwhelming power of lust and love into. So Hephaestus created the bow and arrow made of gold, one of the most beautiful weapons he ever made. Aphrodite wouldn’t settle for anything less.
The scope of the scene panned away from the bow and arrow, though I could have stared at it all day. I noticed that the god of lust had an audience for his performance. The gods looked like him, with magnificent wings that folded against their backs, tuc
ked away to make room for the others. Some instinct told me that these were the other Erotes.
These male gods were a group that focused on love, longing, and sex. The six were siblings of Eros, all sons of Ares and Aphrodite, which was appropriate, considering their parents were the two sides of hate and love. The brothers all had wings, white and pure, and each ruled over a different kind of love.
Anteros leaned against a column in the back of the group, though his soft eyes were closed as he listened to his brother strum on. The god of Love Returned had a soft disposition and a calm face, serene and gentle.
Himeros sat cross-legged right in the front, like an over-eager child ready for story time. He held onto his shins and rocked slightly back and forth. He focused on Impetuous Love, a kind of desire that accompanied one-night stands and hookups.
Hedylogos brushed his long hair out of his eyes as his lips moved soundlessly to Eros’s melody. The god of Sweet Talk focused on the words in his own mind that accompanied his brother’s tune.
Hymenaios leaned back, propping himself up with his straight arms, while he stuck his legs out, crossed over one another tightly. He grimaced slightly as Eros hit a particularly high note. He was the only one who seemed to be annoyed by the performance. Though, Hymenaios was a bit of a prude as he was the protector of Bridal Virginity.
Hermaphroditus paid attention, as evidenced by his tapping foot. However, the god focused on picking at his nails rather than looking at Eros while he performed. He was the most polished of all the brothers, wearing a winged eyeliner that any make-up artist would be jealous of. The god of Hermaphrodites and Effeminity embodied every stereotype that came with his evocation.
Finally, Pothos laid flat on the ground with his eyes closed. He looked to be sleeping, though there was a corner of drool that came out of the side of his open mouth. His blond curls splayed out on the ground in an elegant array. I wondered what dreams the god of Desire could possibly be having while his brother played this erotic tune.
I wondered why I was seeing this. It seemed like an ordinary moment. Even though they were gods, the brothers appeared to be enjoying a concert from Eros. Nothing special was happening here.
Determining this to be a fool's errand, I made to blink and pull away from whatever weird connection Eros and I had at the moment. However, my attention jerked back to the narrow vision, like a dog yanking on his leash. I rubbed at the soft spot under my ribs and waited, albeit impatiently.
Suddenly, the serene scene dipped into cool colors, a shadow coming over their concert. Eros immediately stopped playing and looked up at the sky. His brothers followed suit, most of them, save for the sleeping Pothos, getting to their feet as they watched something streak across the sky.
The shadow quickly faded, but then a new figure entered the scene. I recognized her immediately with her lithe form and broad shoulders. Even though her hair was shorter, cropped right at her jawline, there was no mistaking Esme, daughter of Prometheus.
She stood as confidently as a queen amongst peasants, looking down her nose at the gods as she stepped right through their lounging area. She no longer wore the Academy all-black uniform, which didn’t surprise me. Instead, she adorned her body with a Grecian Amazonian uniform, with a metal bodice and a pleated skirt. Her strong legs stomped forward in flat sandals with strings that crisscrossed up her shins and calves. She approached Eros at the base of his throne and stared up at him expectantly.
“Daughter of Prometheus,” Eros sneered.
It was clear the two of them knew one another. Immediately, I wondered how. What connection did Esme have to the god of lust? Or was she there to talk to the Erotes as a whole?
The sight of Esme left an uncomfortable pit in the center of my stomach. I had completely forgotten about the threat she presented. All of last semester, she sat in the back of my mind like an itch that I couldn’t scratch. But this semester, I had been too consumed with other minor issues. Organizing the dance, making the rapiers, saving the campus from Love Struck. All the while, Esme must have been planning something. And I hadn’t even given her a single thought.
Before I could chastise myself too much, the scene continued. Esme smiled deviously and dipped her head ever so slightly at the god. It was enough to acknowledge him, but just small enough to be insulting.
“Eros,” Esme replied. “Pleasure seeing you.”
“Unfortunately, I cannot say the same,” Eros said, the disgust never leaving his voice. He looked at her like a gnat that he couldn’t squish. “What do you want?”
“I’m surprised you even have to ask,” Esme said as she put her hands on her hips. “You know what I’m here for.”
Eros rolled his eyes, and his body fell slack. He twisted himself around so that he could hang his legs over the edge of his throne and lean his head back on the armrest. “That deal was never finalized.”
“I think we made ourselves pretty clear,” Esme threatened, taking an intimidating step forward.
Hedylogos and Anteros immediately stepped forward to block Esme from approaching Eros too closely. She held up her hands in surrender.
“I don’t want to hurt any of you,” she said, the words sharp even though she said them under her breath as a warning to the Erotes.
Eros scoffed. “What can a demigod do to us? We are gods, girl, lest you forget it.”
A darkness fell over Esme’s eyes at the insult. She bit the corner of her lip in concentration, plotting her next move. I thought she might reach out and strike them, using her Academy training against the gods. However, she opened her mouth and used her words as weapons instead.
“The gods of lust and passion?” Esme released a weak chuckle from the back of her throat. “As if they could do anything to harm me.”
Eros responded instantly to her insult. He leaped up from his throne and stormed down the stairs to approach Esme, nose to nose. Fire flared in his eyes, a dark side of passion that frightened me, even though I was only a witness to this scene. Esme, however, didn’t move. She held her ground against his sudden surge.
“You underestimate us, daughter of Prometheus,” Eros growled. “You speak of some of the most powerful emotions in humans and gods alike. It taps into their basic instincts, and we can manipulate them any way we choose. We can rip the happiest couple in two, or pair together beings that could destroy the world with their power.”
Eros held up a single finger and pointed it directly in Esme’s face. “It is not with swords and fire that we fight. It is with the mind, skewing the sense of reality. It might not be as flash as your methods, but it is far more effective.”
The other Erotes surrounded the dueling pair. They created a protective wall around their brother, while the gods behind Esme adopted wide stances, a signal of their impending attack.
“I would ask that you leave now before we do anything to harm you,” Eros hissed, droplets of spit soaring from his mouth and onto Esme’s face.
The daughter of Prometheus took a step back and wiped her cheek where Eros’s saliva landed. She didn’t seem perturbed by the clear insult. Instead, she brushed it off and offered Eros a kind smile, though there was something disturbing about the gesture.
“I have no need to harm anyone,” Esme admitted. She swept into a low bow and lifted her head so she could witness Eros’s reaction to her next announcement. “I merely needed your attention.”
“Our attention?” Eros took a step back, confused.
“Most would call it a distraction,” Esme said as she stood up and shrugged her shoulder. “It seems to have worked.”
She gestured outward like a showgirl towards Eros’s throne behind him and most of the Erotes. All heads turned in the direction she demanded, including my limited view.
I noticed the difference immediately. The bow and arrow were gone. The custom holster stood empty.
Eros whipped around to face Esme, and his wings snapped behind him. He threw himself at the former soldier, his hands outstretched for her throat.
Instead of wrapping his fingers around her neck, the god of lust reached through her.
Stunned, Eros pulled his hands away in horror. His flawless fingers were coated in a dark sheen of clay. His wide eyes gazed up at Esme, who melted to clay before his eyes. As one, the Erotes backed away as if it were a toxic vat of poison rather than simple clay. Eros dropped his hands to his sides and leaned his head back. He released a mighty roar that shook the foundation beneath them. Anteros lost his footing and tumbled into Pothos, who caught his brother.
“Find her,” Eros hollered. “Find her!”
Just then, the door slammed shut, and my vision widened once again. I returned to the scene around me, with Tené and Fiona by Eros’s side and Ansel beside me. The Eternal Flame in the lantern above our heads danced wildly, sensing my irritation. Behind us, the music pounded on with some call-and-response lyrics. We could hear the students respond enthusiastically, their voices a chorus over the music.
Eros’s eyebrows pinched together as he looked at me, no longer angry but thoroughly confused and curious.
“You have the Sight.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement that surprised everyone.
“Sight?” I balked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“It is not fully formed,” Eros said, ignoring my response. He looked me up and down like a math problem he couldn’t solve. “In fact, it’s not fully there. Only traces live within you.”
“We have never sensed the Sight in her before now,” Tené said gently.
“Did you ever test her for it?” Eros demanded, his voice returning to something harsh and accusatory.
“She is the daughter of Hephaestus,” Fiona defended. “We didn’t have the need to.”
“Hephaestus may be her father,” Eros said ominously, “but who is her mother?”
A fierce need for protectiveness flared up inside me. I took a threatening step forward with a stiff finger pointed in his direction. God or not, I would not let him do anything to my mom.
