by Staci Hart
Adonis’ eyes were closed as he lay on the pyre, as if asleep or dreaming. But in life, even in sleep, his face had been full of presence and joy.
That spark was gone, and what remained was only a shell, a shadow of what he once had been.
Gone, gone, gone. Down the Styx and into Hades. Past the gates and into Elysium. He was in the place no god could go, in a prison where he would stay forever.
Forever.
Not in her arms as he should be. Not by her side.
The nymphs drew a sheet of muslin over his face, and Aphrodite wailed, her fingers twisting in her hair, the pain as she tore it, unable to break through her grief.
They laid anemone flowers, red as blood, all around his body. The bright white fabric outlined his profile against the purple of the sky as the morning broke, the white harsh against the deep sky, but his eyes and lips soft, shaded and vague underneath. A shadow. A vessel.
She leaned forward with shaking hands to trace the bridge of his nose and the swell of the lips she loved so well, the muslin coarse under her fingers. The nymphs watched on, none willing to risk their lives to stop her after one had interfered and paid dearly for it. Her hands ran along stitched seam where the boar had opened him, where Apollo had torn him apart.
Because of her.
Guilt and loss ripped through her, and she crumpled on top of his cold body, muslin clutched in her hands, spilling anemones into the surf to be carried away.
Aphrodite cried out, clawing her arms, tearing her flesh to ribbons with trembling bloody hands, unable to feel anything but the pain in her heart. She had to leave him, had to let him go, though she couldn’t find a way. But she couldn’t stay.
When she finally backed away, she pressed a kiss to his lips though the sheet and whispered words she would never speak to another.
The nymphs pushed his pyre into the ocean, and she waded in behind him, arms crossed, nails digging into her skin and dragging down to shred her skin to ribbons.
She couldn’t feel anything past the pain in her heart.
As they lit the wooden frame, she touched his face for the last time through the sheer fabric, leaving her bloody mark on the pure white.
The current took him, and she watched the flames against the sky, the world on fire as he floated away from her forever.
As the sun broke the horizon, she watched him burn, the fire forging her heart into iron. She felt nothing as sunlight crept over her, her dirty, bloody hands hanging loose by her sides, her robes in shambles, billowing around her in the breeze.
His death was her doing, her penance. If only he had listened. If only he had chosen immortality. But he had only made light, not understanding, not believing. And the time for pleas had passed, gone with his body, lost in flames on the surface of the sea.
She closed her eyes and fell to her knees in the surf. The waves washed over her, and she cried, her face to the heavens as she begged Zeus for vengeance, prayed to Hades to return her love, and cursed the fates for keeping them apart.
It was then that Persephone appeared.
She knelt in the surf beside Aphrodite and gathered her in close.
“Come, dearest,” she whispered. “Come home.”
When Aphrodite woke, she lay in her room with her hands clasped under her breasts. She turned her head and looked through the gauzy fabric that hung around her bed to see Hephaestus, bathed in candlelight.
He stood and brushed the curtains back, kneeling beside her, his face tight.
She rolled over to face him, and a tear trailed down her face, onto her pillow. His strong hand cupped her cheek, and he wiped her tear away with his thumb as if he could wipe away her pain. His head tilted to look into her eyes, and he leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead before pulling himself away.
Persephone took his place.
She stroked Aphrodite’s hair and tucked it around her ear. “I cannot bring him back, but I can offer another gift.”
Aphrodite lifted up onto her elbow, her heart jumping to life in her chest. “I’ll do anything,” she whispered.
Persephone sat back and laid her hands in her lap. Tendrils of black fog climbed up her body, swirling around her as she closed her eyes.
“Aphrodite,” she said, her voice amplified and echoing through the room, “I bestow upon you a blessing. When you sleep, a doorway will open to Elysium; you may go there to meet your love, and he shall forever be yours, even in death.”
Aphrodite dropped her head back and closed her eyes, smiling as her tears fell, her heart so full of joy, so full of pain. She did not know what it would mean for her, for Adonis, and did not care. She would take every moment with him that she could.
“How can I ever repay you, Persephone?”
“I require no payment,” Persephone said as she embraced Aphrodite, laid her down, and kissed her eyelids. “Sleep now, Aphrodite. Go to him.”
Aphrodite drifted away, and when she awoke, she sat under the olive tree in the valley. She looked down in wonder at her robes, the same that she’d worn on the day he died. The brush rustled, and her heart stopped when he stepped through, whole and alive.
They rushed to each other, and she flew into his arms, spinning from the force. And as she cried, her pain fell away with her tears.
He was still hers. And she was his, if only in her dreams.
Dita looked over at her friend with tears in her eyes. “You didn’t have to help me … help us.”
Perry scooped Bisoux up and laid him on the bed between them. She turned onto her side to curl into Dita. “I did. Dita, when I saw you on the beach, after he died … I just … I couldn’t let you live like that. We’d been fighting for years, but none of that mattered when I realized what he meant to you. You loved him just as much as I did.”
“But you as his mother. That bond was unbreakable.”
Perry smiled sadly. “Not his real mother. I only raised him. You taught him how to love, and he loved only you.”
Dita rolled over to face her and leaned in to touch their foreheads together. “Thank you, my friend.”
“You are forever welcome.” Perry smiled. “So,” she said cheerily even though her voice was still thick, “have you told Adonis that the competition started with Apollo?”
Dita sighed. “No, and I don’t know how much longer I can avoid it. He’s always extra tense when it’s going on.”
“I know. Just try to remember that time doesn’t pass the same way for him as it does for us. To him, it’s still fresh.”
“Well, it’s not for me. I don’t want Apollo to suffer anymore, if I’m being honest. I hate giving in — you know that better than anyone — but at this point it just seems cruel. But if I grant Apollo’s wish, Adonis will never forgive me. He demands that I hold Daphne hostage for payment for his life.”
Perry shook her head. “Yeah. He’s not ready, and there’s no reasoning with him.”
“I hate talking about it with him. There are so few things that we disagree on, but when we don’t see eye-to-eye, there’s no reasoning with either of us. At least I only have to deal with it once every handful of decades.”
“Are you going to try again to convince Adonis to let it go?”
“You know, it’s funny because I know what he’s going to say, and I know that we’re going to argue. But yes, I’m going to try to convince him. I have to, don’t I?”
“You’re Aphrodite, my headstrong, confident, and capable friend. If you didn’t argue, I would be worried.” Perry sat up and gave Bisoux another pat before she stood. “Good luck. And congrats again on Lex and Dean.”
Dita’s heart filled up with appreciation. “Thanks, Perry. For everything.”
“Anytime,” Perry said with a smile that made Dita feel like everything would be all right.
Dean sat back on his couch, forearms resting on his guitar as he flipped through the pages he’d just written. He touched the words, crammed on the pages in every free space, and Lex’s face took over hi
s mind again. Her eyes were as clear in his mind as if she were standing before him, as it had been all night since he’d parted ways with her.
He was preoccupied, haunted, obsessed.
The feeling was new.
On the day he’d met Lex, the second he’d seen her, he stopped dead in his tracks. It was such a mundane moment — Lex sitting on the couch, her rich dark hair like a curtain in front of her face as she bent over her bag. Curious, he’d walked over to get a better look but hadn’t expected to be momentarily stunned when she looked up at him. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of blue and green, her skin like porcelain, and when her cheeks had flushed and her lips parted, he’d felt his do the same.
Dean knew the look — he’d gotten it hundreds of times before, though he didn’t know if he’d ever given it.
It was like what he imagined it felt like to get struck by lightning.
She felt the attraction just as much as he did — he could tell. But instead of falling all over herself and trying to lick his boots — or anything else — she’d talked shit. She’d knocked him out. If she had been anyone other than Travis’s girlfriend, he would have asked her out right then and there.
Dean had muses in his life before, so that part wasn’t necessarily a recent development, but Lex was different. There had always been an element of control when it came to women, a separation. The barriers he had in place were impenetrable, and women were a novelty, unable to break in.
But all Lex had to do was exist.
Her body in the room was enough to occupy every thought, and he found himself unable to think of anything but her, unable to sing about anyone but her. He’d watched her watching him, and the rush was overpowering. He knew the effect he had on women and exploited it whenever possible, but that’s not what this was.
He wanted her so intensely, it scared him.
That he didn’t know her wasn’t troubling — he didn’t know anyone. It was that he wanted to know her.
Dean shifted, setting his guitar on the couch next to him.
It didn’t matter. He couldn’t go there. There was no choice to be made.
He was sure that, whatever it was he felt, it would pass. A few days, and it would be over, if she stayed out of his way and he stayed out of hers. It was all he could do, the very least he could do.
Dean picked his phone up off the coffee table to find a text from Roe on his lock screen.
Don’t even think about it.
He shook his head. Roe knew, and of course he did. He could read Dean like a book, and now Big Brother would be watching. Just one more reason to stay away from her.
Her eyes were on his mind again, and more lines ran through his thoughts. He jotted them down in his book, wishing he could draw, wanting to trace every line that made up her hair, her lips, her long lashes. She was beautiful — there was no doubt about that — but it was more than that, something he didn’t understand, some magic about her that had taken him over, and he hoped his obsession with her would be over soon.
Because he didn’t know how much he could take.
Apollo looked in on Dean from his couch, more than a little worried after watching him react to Lex earlier that day. Dita always picked ringers, and after seeing the players react to each other, the reality of the fact was upon him. Winning wasn’t going to be easy.
The worst part was that, in his heart, he was rooting for them. Lex was another favorite of Apollo, and he’d been a major force in her life. Dita knew Apollo well, choosing a match for Dean that he had a connection to.
She was just too good.
Apollo watched as Dean’s pencil flew across his notebook page. Dean had been more inspired in the few short hours since he’d met her than he had ever been.
“Ugh, what am I doing?” Apollo said aloud in his empty apartment as he sat back on his couch.
He wanted to inspire Dean and Lex to turn their infatuation into art — inciting his power gave him more power, filled him up, satisfied him — but it would cultivate the obsession in each of them. He didn’t know if he should try to have his creative cake and eat it. It seemed stupid to try although he didn’t know if he could stop the stream of inspiration even if he wanted to. At that point, it could easily be beyond his control or ability to stop. Muses worked that way.
Apollo checked in on Lex, who sat sketching on her couch as Travis tried to talk to her.
She looked up at him, confused, and he laughed.
“Yeah, I didn’t think you were paying attention.”
“I’m sorry, Trav. What did you say?”
“It’s okay. I should know better than to try to talk to you while you’re sketching.”
She smiled up at him. “What’s up?”
“I was going to pick up something to eat. I know it’s late, but I’m starving.”
“Ooh, how about Mai’s?”
“Excellent. The usual?”
“Always.”
He kissed her cheek and left the apartment, leaving her alone in the quiet room. She ripped a strip from her blending stump and went to work on Dean’s jawline. Her insides fluttered — he put her in a constant state of swoon. She couldn’t help herself. Dean had to be one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen.
Of course, she knew it was more than that.
There was something about him, she thought as she looked over her drawing, something in his eyes, his brow.
He was unattainable, closed off, aloof and confident. The combination of that and his good looks were like some deadly concoction, and she could see why girls threw themselves at him. Top that with the whole rock-star element, and it was a recipe for panty tossing and broken hearts.
Her cheeks went hot again as she thought of him singing, playing his guitar like it was an extension of him. They were better than she’d thought they would be even though her expectations had been low to start.
With Travis being in a band, they were always at shows, and she knew a lot about the local music scene. Paper Fools was in a different league all together compared to the bands they usually saw, and she wondered what they could accomplish with the producer and PR they’d get from their record deal. They appealed to her love of blues and rock from the seventies, and she was ultimately very, very impressed.
Lex closed her notebook and traded it out for her laptop, popping open YouTube to search for their videos. There was only one that wasn’t a live show, which looked like the guys had recorded it on a camcorder. They walked around Central Park, messing around. She usually hated those kinds of videos, but she wasn’t bothered at all, probably because she just watched Dean — his smile when Roe made him laugh, his hand pushing his hair out of his face, the long lines of his lean body as he walked through the park.
When the video was over, she fell into a rabbit hole of Googling, getting lost in the image search for a while, specifically on a professional shoot that they had done for a local music magazine. They were all black and white, deep shadows, one with stage lights shining behind Dean, illuminating the edge of his silhouette.
She was in the middle of streaming their songs when she heard Travis’s key in the door, and she jumped, snapping her laptop shut.
Apollo looked away and ran his hand across his lips, feeling more than a little defeated.
Because if Lex was any indication of the power of their attraction, Apollo realized for the first time just how fucked he may be.
Day Five
In Dita’s dream, she stood at a tower window, looking out across the gray ocean, watching the waves crash against the rocks below her as the wind lashed her face with cold fingers. She leaned over the ledge, unafraid, gravity shifting with the horizon as she fell, heart pounding as the rocks rushed toward her. Her arms spread wide, and she closed her eyes as she neared the ocean, and her arms became wings, beating and pushing herself up and away, arching back to fly across hills, like emeralds in the fog.
She spotted a lake below and dived, down, down to the surface, breaking through with a
jolt. When she opened her eyes, she was in the warm crystal waters of the Caribbean, swimming alongside the Sirens. Riadne turned and smiled, her long auburn hair like fire in the water, deep and red against the crystalline blue of the sea. Leucosia swam by like a corkscrew with bubbles in her wake, the sun twinkling from the strings of pearls and gems that lay against her breasts. The iridescent scales of their tails shimmered blue and green in the bright sun.
Teles, with raven hair, reached for her hand, but the moment their fingers touched, Dita found herself sitting in Adonis’ valley with the mountains all around her. The poppy field spread out from where she sat under the olive tree in Elysium. It was heaven, the realm where the souls of heroes went when they passed from the earth to the underworld. She closed her eyes and sighed, mourning the end of the fantasy, though glad the dream had brought her to Adonis.
The brush rustled, and he stepped into the clearing, smiling with all the warmth in his heart.
“Hello, love,” she crooned as she opened her arms in invitation.
He lay down next to her and wrapped his bronzed arms around her waist.
“I have missed you.” He sighed, resting his head against her breast. “Every moment that you are not in my arms seems to stretch forever, as if I am dreaming. As if the only time I am alive is when you are here.”
The irony of his words was not lost on her, and her chest ached, though she smiled as she ran her fingers through his golden hair.
“I have news to share.”
“Oh, do you?”
“Yes.” She paused, not wanting to tell him or to endure the argument that would most assuredly follow. “A new challenge has begun.”
“And who is the defending god this round? Not Ares, I trust.” The disdain was heavy in his voice.
“Actually, it is my turn.”
“Ah, well, I am certain you will win. You always do.”
“That isn’t all. The first round is against Apollo.” She felt him tense, and she frowned. “I’m fairly certain I have it in my pocket.”
