by Regan Claire
It was only a dream. It wasn’t real.
Was it?
“You still don’t remember, do you?”
I shake my head. Eros was right. He was in my dreams, too. I need to talk to him now.
“I—I have to go.”
She’s still staring at the chair, and a shadow of that rage I remember from my dream is back in her eyes. I leave, basically running out the door and around the side to my car. I have my key out, but my hand is shaking so badly I can’t get it in the door to unlock.
“April, are you okay? What’s wrong?” Smith asks.
“I have to go. I need to go right now.” I’m panicking.
“I don’t think you should drive like this. You’re shaking.”
“I can’t stay here, Smith. I have to leave,” I tell him. He pulls me away from my car gently, so that I’m facing him. His hands are strong and warm on my shoulders.
“Shh, it’s going to be okay. I can take you home.”
“My car….”
“We’ll see if Cora can take your car back to her shop later, okay?”
I let him lead me to his truck, because he’s right: I can’t drive like this.
We’ve driven a few miles, and while my heart is still racing and head spinning, I’m no longer shaking.
“Thank you for driving me. I’m sorry I made you leave the party early, I just couldn’t stay any longer.”
“It’s fine, really. Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. “No, I really don’t.” How can I talk about what’s going through my head without sounding crazy? What if I am crazy?
Smith doesn’t say anything else for a few miles. “So, I didn’t know you knew Rhys,” he finally says. “Are you two friends?”
“What?” I ask, because my mind is still swarming with the images of a golden chair and dreams that can’t be real but might be. “Oh, I don’t know. We’ve hung out a few times, but it’s complicated.” I don’t mention that our lips are basically besties, or that I’m low-key terrified of what I saw at the bar yesterday.
“I thought you said that you weren’t interested in dating anyone.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m dating Rhys. I did him a favor and he helped me buy a couch in return.” Even I hear the defensive tone I use.
“Oh. I could have helped you if you had asked. We’re friends.”
I look over at him. Is this a real conversation we’re having?
“I guess so. I didn’t exactly ask Rhys for his help, he just showed up.”
“Don’t let him bully you. I know he comes off a certain way, but you’re better than a brute like that.”
I don’t respond and Smith doesn’t say anything else, which is good because I don’t like the direction his conversation is headed in.
“Do you want me to take you home? I could take you somewhere else, maybe for a bite to eat since we left before the food was ready. I know I always get a little grumpy when I’m hungry.”
“You think I’m upset because I’m hungry?” Did he seriously just say that?
“No! Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m saying that I know you’re upset, and maybe sharing a meal with a friend will help. We can talk.”
I sigh. “I’m sorry for jumping down your throat, Smith. Maybe we can grab a bite another time.” I pull out my phone and see a few messages from Eros. They’re mostly asking where I am and how long until I can come over. I text back, telling him I grabbed a ride with Smith and didn’t have my car, but should be home in twenty if he wanted to meet me there.
“Who’s that?” Smith asks me. I feel like I’m being rude by texting.
“It’s a friend of mine, Eros. I was supposed to go to his house after the barbecue. I’m just letting him know I don’t have my car.”
“Didn’t you go to his house a few nights ago for dinner?”
“Yeah. His partner is a great cook,” I said, in case he forgot that Eros is a platonic friend.
“What did he say when you canceled?”
“Oh, he’s just going to come over instead.”
Smith’s hands tighten on the steering wheel.
“You guys must be getting pretty close,” Smith says, his hands are knuckle-white on the steering wheel.
“Maybe. It’s nice having someone I can call a friend. I haven’t been able to say that about many people before.”
“You said we could be friends, too.”
Is he jealous over my having a friend besides him, or jealous because he feels left out of the friendship game.
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “We’re friends too.”
“Are we? Because Rhys is the one who helped you with your couch, and you’re probably about to run to Eros and tell him exactly why you were upset and we had to leave the party, but you won’t tell me even though I’m right here.” His face is red, and though he’s not yelling, he’s getting awfully loud.
“Smith, I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”
“It’s always those two. Why do you always run to them? It isn’t fair. It’s supposed to be me.” His foot must be made of lead, because our speed has picked up.
“I—I just moved here, Smith. I can have more than one friend. I came to the picnic today with you, because I want us to be friends.”
Is he acting this way because of my powers? I didn’t realize I’d let myself slip up around him, and we haven’t been around each other enough for the natural me-ness to draw him in like this. My powers have been acting weird. Have they been leaking around him this entire time and I didn’t even realize it?
He laughs, but I don’t think he finds anything funny. “I thought it would be different this time!” He’s definitely yelling now. He’s not even looking at the road right now. I lean towards the door. He’s scaring me, the look in his eye right now is crazed and I don’t know what he’s going to do. I can’t see the speedometer from where I’m sitting, but I know he’s going too fast for this winding road. “What is it going to take to make you understand how much you mean to me? After everything I’ve done for you, you still don’t get it!”
“What do you want?” I ask. Maybe I can calm him down.
“What do I want? I want what I was promised. What you promised me! I want—“
But I don’t hear what else he wants, because he’s looking at me, he doesn’t see the car that is pulling out in front of us. And because we’re going at least thirty miles over the speed limit, we’re going to hit them before they have a chance to accelerate enough.
“Smith, look out!”
He snaps his head to the front, and that’s the last thing I see because everything goes black.
Needs to Remember
I kiss his neck while the final shudder swallows us both, tasting the sweat of his very generous labors. I am powerful, because I am loved by this man and love him in return. No single thing better fuels me than this, my essence. Love. We lie together, basking in the afterglow of our stolen moment.
“I love you,” Ares tells me. I already know this, because the power in my veins is strongest when I’m with him.
I smile at him. My face feels foreign, because I smile so rarely now. I can feel myself becoming bitter. My life isn’t as it should be. No one should have her choices taken from her. No, I won’t think about my cage when I am with him.
“Of course you do,” I tell him, teasing him. “I love you,” I say quickly after, because I can’t help but tell him.
“Aphrodite, have you given my idea any more thought?”
“Leave? How could I not?”
“What’s stopping us?”
Your father and his pet warrior. I don’t say these things out loud, because we’ve already spoken of this. Zeus barely tolerates Ares as it is. He’s too wild, too full of passion, too much like the humans who worship us.
Most of all, he’s too powerful, and Zeus remembers what he did to his own father, and what his father did to his father. Patricide is a family tradition, and Zeus is t
errified that his only legitimate son will carry it on. So Zeus will never allow Ares to leave and discover the extent of his own power. Sometimes I think he gave life to Athena just to safeguard himself against that potential future. The only reason he hasn’t acted against Ares is that he learned from his own history. That and the threat that Hera would never forgive him, and she forgives far more than she should from him.
“My love, please. We get so little time together, let’s not waste it talking about this again.” I try to put some lightness back into my voice, imitating my former naive self.
“Okay. Should I tell you how beautiful you are?”
“If you insist, though judging by the red on your mouth, my makeup has smudged.”
“Not that you need it. Beauty is every bit who you are as fighting is who I am.”
He’s wrong. My beauty is a shadow of what I am, just as battle is just a shadow of what he is.
“Beauty is as beauty does,” I tell him instead with a smile and a laugh I try to mean. I reach to my side table for the hand mirror I keep there so I can survey the damage and touch up my makeup.
“Ouch!” I jerk my hand back.
“Are you okay? What happened?” Ares asks, pulling my hand where I split a nail hitting something.
“There’s something there.”
Ares reaches his hand into the same space of air I hit my fingers.
“What is this?” he asks, because now that we know something is there, we can see a shimmer in the air. It’s not only in the one spot, it surrounds us, encircling the bed we lie on. It is cool to the touch, feeling like a gossamer-thin metal chain.
My husband’s work, because only he can create metal enchanted like this.
Fear claws my throat while Ares tries to find a weakness in our trap, even as it draws closer around us. I already know there is no such thing, because I’ve been trapped with this man for longer than a lifetime. There is no escaping Hephaistos, and now his clever trap is pushing against us. We cannot sit up. We cannot roll over. We can do nothing but lie here, exposed.
Hephaistos must have sensed his trap has sprung, because the door to my room opens and my husband walks through. I see pain in his expression, but also a fiery rage. I flinch, because lately he’s shown me the violence that his rage is capable of. He claims it’s my fault, and I believe him, because I can’t love him even though he tries his best. I try to reach for the blanket to cover myself, but we kicked it off the bed and the web prevents me from reaching it.
Ares tries to cover my nudity as best he can, but the web is so close against us now that it hugs our skin while we lie trapped against the bed.
“I hoped to be mistaken, Brother,” Hephaistos says. “Wife,” he spits my way. “You both will pay for this,” he tells us, then walks away.
We don’t see him for hours, or days. The web is unrelenting. Ares has thrashed himself sore trying to escape. Pain sears through us both, from the sores we have from sitting in our own mess. The shame is even more unbearable. We can offer each other little more comfort than words and grasped hands, and we are too hurt to speak.
After I don’t know how long, my husband returns with a crowd. There is laughter, but not from the men I see before me: Poseidon, Apollo, Hermes, and Zeus. There must be others, hidden behind the men who now fill my room. Tears creep down my face.
“Release us, Smith,” Ares demands. I can still turn my head, and I look at him, red-faced, the veins in his neck standing out because of the strain.
“You dare make demands of me?” Spittle flies from Hephaistos.
“Please Hephaistos. Let us go,” I ask, putting every ounce of persuasion in it.
He looks at me for a moment, pulled into my gaze, but he shakes himself. He has become resistant to my powers since he has used them so much.
“You were right Apollo. The two have betrayed me,” Hephaistos says.
Apollo, his bronze skin all but glowing with the sun’s power, nods his head. He must have seen Ares come to me some time before, since anything the sun touches is in his realm of sight.
“What are we doing here?” Zeus asks.
“Do you see what is happening here?” my husband asks.
“How could I not?” Zeus responds, mirth in his voice. “That doesn’t explain why you’ve called us here, though I can’t say I’m not enjoying the show.” It will take hours to scrub his gaze off my skin.
“I was promised a wife.”
“And you have one,” Zeus says.
“She has made a fool of me!”
“You are unhappy with your bride? You were given the queen of beauty and love. There is no finer prize,” Poseidon says. He spares me a look and, exposed as I am, he still manages to keep his eyes on mine. A kindness that none of the other men in the room care enough to offer me.
“I know several who would be happy to replace you as her consort,” Hermes says, clearly talking about himself.
“I want them punished! Her for her cruel heart, and him for turning her against me,” Hephaistos demands.
“You can hardly fault Ares for falling prey to Aphrodite’s charms. It would take a stronger-willed man than he to resist her.” Poseidon’s tone is reasonable.
“What about her?”
“It is her very nature to follow her heart,” Poseidon says. Hephaistos flinches, stung by the words.
“What do you want me to do, Hephaistos?” Zeus finally asks. Now that the novelty of our being caught has worn off, and he’s gotten a full look at what I’ve managed so far to keep from him, he’s bored.
“I—.”
“If you want to be released from your marriage, I will honor your request. No man should suffer this type of insult.”
Hephaistos opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. I know this isn’t what he wants, though hope blooms in my chest even as shame heats my face.
“Of course, you should be compensated,” Poseidon responds. “For your suffering, and to replace what you have spent fruitlessly buying her affections.”
A wave of fury washes over me, then quickly fades. I know what Poseidon is doing, but I will not get used to being talked about as if I am a piece of livestock.
“It’s only fair that Ares paythe debt, since he is the cause of her straying,” Apollo says. I would glare at him, but I’ve closed my eyes. This is torture. Why won’t they release us?
“It is all in order then. Hephaistos, you are freed from the shackles of marriage. We need to discuss what you feel you are owed as compensation.”
They turn to leave.
“Please, let us go,” I entreat. Surely they don’t mean to keep us here like this.
Zeus sighs, but his brother Poseidon has the fairer mind. “Hephaistos, they have been punished enough for their transgressions. Release them. She is no longer yours to keep.”
Hephaistos looks back at me, and I see his longing and his anger brimming in his eyes. If I could be killed, I think he would try, then weep brokenhearted from my loss. His twisted love is too entangled with hate; I don’t think even he knows which is the head and which is the tail of the ouroboros of his emotions. He turns back and approaches my side of the bed. I shrink back the few inches I’m able to, and Ares struggles beside me.
The power of Hephaistos starts trickling into the invisible net around us, making it lighter and more flexible. He grabs it from above my head and begins to pull it down. Before he does, he leans down.
“Do not forget this moment too swiftly, my love. The next time you are caught by me, I will have your heart.” Then he rolls the web down, releasing us from his terrible trap.
“That’s the spirit. Win her back,” Zeus says. I hate him.
Ares tries to jump out of bed, and any other time his threat would be enough to make these cowards quake. He falls to the floor, body weak and legs hardly responsive. We hear laughter once again, then we are alone.
Ares tries again to stand, but falls. He is defeated. I crawl to him, legs shaking from pain and disuse. I pull hi
s head onto my lap, and do my best to soothe him as sobs of frustration rake through his body.
“Shh, my darling. It will be all right,” I tell him. He needs the release that the tears offer, but I do not join him with my own.
No.
I do not cry anymore.
I plot.
Needs a Doctor
My head is throbbing, keeping time to the beat of a very frantic heart that may or may not belong to me. I lift a hand to my very sore head, and panic when it takes a moment for my arm to respond. When it does, it touches a wet bandage stuck to my forehead. Am I still stuck in the net? I shake my head, then wince in pain. No, that was….
What was it? Calling it a dream doesn’t feel quite right. It feels real and true and….
Where am I? The surface I’m on is flat, but soft. I’m lying on my back on a bed, I think. Panic claws my throat before I squash it down. I’m undressed, but unlike in my dream, I’m covered with a blanket. I’m also not completely naked, and am relieved to feel that my undergarments are still in place. Taking deep breaths through my nose and out my mouth, I sit up, jostling my poor brain in the process. I lean over what I hope is the floor, and vomit a sour spray of stomach acid.
Maybe I’m in the hospital with a concussion. How would I get a concussion? What happened? The last thing I remember is Rhys…no wait, that was just a dream, except in the dream, his name was Ares.
A door opens on the other side of the room, letting in a rectangle of light so bright it has me leaning back over and further emptying my stomach. Whoever opened the door rushes to my side and pulls my hair back, even though nothing is coming out now but dry heaves and wet tears.
“I’m so sorry, April.” I jerk back at the sound of Smith’s voice, the dream Smith/Hephaistos still in the forefront of my very rattled cranium. “I think you have a concussion,” Smith says, rubbing gentle circles on my back.
No der.
I sit up, pulling the blanket up with me. My eyes have adjusted to the light streaming into the room.
