Sweet Hell

by Rosanna Leo

  Well, if she wasn't a little drunk.

  Perhaps a bunch of grapes with a shiraz chaser wasn't the best idea to fortify her for the road ahead. He'd never had to worry about getting tipsy himself. As much as he loved the stuff, he was pretty much impervious to it. He'd forgotten how a human could be affected.

  He'd have to keep a close eye on her.

  "Is that it?” she asked, pointing to the cave.

  "Yes."

  The sight seemed to sober her a bit. She stood still and stared at the opaque blackness in the distance. For a moment, he thought he glimpsed a slight shiver of fear rippling through her frame.

  "Dionysus, will you do me a favor?"

  Anything, he thought. He nodded.

  She turned to him. “If I begin to forget in there ... will you remind me of who I am? I mean, you won't forget me, will you?"

  As if he could forget her. “No. My memory will stay intact, and I will get you out."

  "It's just ... there's still so much I want to do in life, and I don't want to lose track of those things."

  He held her close, breathing in the faint, delicious fragrance of shiraz on her breath. “What do you want to do in life?"

  "Well, I haven't given up on the winery thing. I want to get married and have kids. I just want to be happy.” She looked up at him through slightly bleary eyes. He could almost see the rich wine swimming through her head, making her foggy. Even still, her hooded eyes dipped down to regard his lips, his chest hairs. She put a hand on his chest, tugging gently on a couple of those hairs. “And ... if we get out of here okay, Dionysus, I really would like to have sex with you at least once. Probably a lot more than once. Will you remind me if I forget that?"

  And then she hiccupped again. He smiled, as a thrill of anticipation wove its way through his fraught-with-desire body. “I promise. Your request is already burned into my brain. No way I'm forgetting that, and no way in hell I'm letting you forget it either. And just so you remember...” He uttered a quick incantation, then held her hand, spreading the fingers so he could see her palm. Using his index finger like a pen, he wrote an invisible message on her palm, stroking her at the same time, taking his time to move his finger over her soft skin as he completed the lines and whorls of each letter.

  "What are you writing?"

  He blew on her palm, ensuring his hot breath made contact with each part of his message. In seconds, the little note appeared on her palm, written in what appeared to be a crimson wine-like ink.

  It said, “I want to have sex with Dionysus."

  She burst into giggles. “Ohmygod. Did you just tattoo that on my hand?"

  "Don't worry,” he assured her. “It'll disappear later."

  She shook her head, as if unsure what to say. “You Greek gods kill me."

  Even though he knew the scrawled note on her hand would fade, there was a part of him that hoped the mystical ink would somehow penetrate and seep into her veins, carrying the message deep down into every corner of her being. Making her want him as much as he knew he wanted her. Imprinting itself on her core.

  For a similar sentiment, one bearing Josie's name, had already been written all over his skin, etched in indelible ink. Carved into his soul. Declaring he would die without her.

  They finally reached the cave-like Oubliette, and Josie felt her head clearing. The god of wine's shiraz had been scrumptious, the best she'd ever tasted, but it had packed a serious punch. She made a mental note to ask him to conjure up a simple glass of water next time she was thirsty.

  It was a good thing she wasn't too ridiculous a drunk. She just got a little loopy when she had too much. Too happy. Said silly things. And all she'd said this time was that she wanted to have sex with Dionysus.

  She stopped walking.

  She'd asked to have sex with Dionysus! She looked down at the scarlet stain on her palm. There was the proof. Written in ink the same color as the shiraz she'd guzzled.

  He turned to her upon feeling her stop. “Do you need a minute?"

  Did she need a minute? No. She needed a paper bag for her head! How embarrassing! She'd never asked anyone for sex in her life. Of course, she'd never wanted it quite so badly either.

  And yet she knew in her heart it wasn't just the sex she craved. It was the heart-stopping connection she'd felt when he'd been pleasuring her in the house of the Sinners. When he'd taken her in his mouth, when he helped her come on a swelling wave of wine-soaked passion, she'd felt so close to him. Joined. Fused together as if they were one body and one soul.

  She wanted that again. Already felt a measure of it, even though he was only holding her hand.

  She peered up at him, the deliriously gorgeous god of orgies. He didn't seem bothered by her drunken admission or by the crazy thoughts squatting in her brain, taking over.

  In her head, she put a big, fat check next to the reminder not to drink any more of his alcohol on this hellish trip. Clearly, she couldn't trust herself on the stuff. It was giving her delusions she actually had a future with an immortal being.

  "No,” she replied. “I'm fine. Let's go."

  They entered, and she clutched his arm even tighter, feeling somehow comforted by the large bulge of muscle that was his bicep. It was almost completely black inside the cave, cold and musty, as one would expect. Yet there were pinpricks of light here and there, darting in front of their eyes, illuminating the way ever so slightly. Luckily, Dionysus seemed to know the way, and headed deeper into the cave with a sure stride.

  "I expected to see people in here,” she commented as one of the shimmery pinpricks danced in front of her right eye.

  "Oh, they're here,” he warned. “All around us. Watching. Those little spots of light are the lost souls who can't find a way out of this place. And so they linger, in the hopes of drawing other souls into the darkness to keep them company."

  One of the little lights seemed to tickle her ear, and she swatted it away. “That's so sad."

  "Don't feel too sorry for them,” he replied. “Remember, Josie, there's a reason they're here. This place is meant as a punishment."

  They continued walking, and she tried really hard not to imagine what kinds of crimes these souls could have committed to land in this place of endless shadow. Another pinprick zoomed in front of her nose. “Why are they hovering around me?"

  "They're not interested in me because they know I'm a god. But you're mortal. They know there's a chance they can get you to forget who you are and stay."

  One of the lights stopped in front of her, hovering. In that moment, it seemed to swell, its glow growing in proportions. For a second, Josie thought she could almost see a man's face in its phosphorescence. His face twisted in pain, like the subject of that painting she'd always hated.

  The Scream. God, she hated that painting even more now.

  But then Dionysus uttered a low growl, and the light scattered, diminishing to the size of a pinprick once again. The man's face, if it even had been a man, retreated into the gloom.

  Even though one would expect the sight of all those tiny lights in the darkness to generate a feeling of hope, Josie felt nothing but a heavy despair settling all around her. Weighing hard on her shoulders. Making her want to curl up into a ball, or even more, to shrink to the size of those miniscule sparkles all around her.

  The dreadful aura of woe seized her. The sadness infiltrated her very bones, made her tired, made her feel the need to crouch down low and wait for someone who could shine a candle in that wretched place.

  Dionysus seemed to recognize the change in her temperament. He rubbed her hand. “Stay with me, moro mou. I'm just scanning the area for any sight of Eurydice, but I need you to stay with me. Okay, Josie?"

  "Who's Josie?” she murmured, feeling forlorn, uncaring, in that pitch landscape.

  Dionysus turned and shook her gently by the arms. “Tell me your name! Now, dammit!"

  Startled, she looked up at him in the near darkness. “Um. J-Josephine Amelia Marino."

&nb
sp; He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good girl. I haven't lost you.” They continued walking, Dionysus looking all over. As he did, he peppered her with questions. “When's your birthday?"

  "September fourth."

  "Brothers’ names?"

  "Angelo. Mike."

  "Who's your favorite movie actor?"

  "Uh.” She thought about it. She could almost see the actor's handsome face. The titles of the movies he'd been in seemed to swim in front of her face, hazy, then flitted away completely. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You know. The one from that movie? About the guy?"

  He grunted. “What's your mother's maiden name?"

  She stopped walking. Confused. “I have a mother?"

  "Shit,” he muttered. “We don't have much time. I'm turning the damn lights on."

  She watched, in a daze, as the handsome man next to her—what was his name again?—said some foreign words. And then, little by little, she was able to see much better. Everywhere he turned to glance in the massive cave, that spot was lit up as if the source of the light were coming right from his dazzling eyes.

  Wow, what a hot guy. I'll have to introduce myself. But wait, he's holding my hand. Does he already know me? Weird that he's wearing that ancient-looking costume.

  The stranger was scanning the area, as if looking for someone he'd lost. His lips were pressed together in concentration, and she could see why. The cave was occupied by what looked like thousands of people. Hugging the walls. Drab gray and lifeless in appearance. Staring at her, as if she brought the light with her.

  The man finished looking around, then turned to her, bathing her in the same warm glow. Such beautiful heat. One in which she could gladly bask forever.

  "Eurydice's not here. We need to go."

  "Eurydice?” She repeated the odd name. Not like any name she'd ever heard, although, for the life of her, she was having trouble coming up with any other names.

  "Let's go, Josie.” He yanked on her hand, pulling her through the crowd of people in the cave.

  Why were they in such a horrible place? It made her want to cry. Made her want to stay to see if she could help them. These people needed help!

  "Come,” the man said. “We're almost there. Do you see the light up ahead? It's the way out."

  She looked in the direction he was indicating. There was nothing there. Just a dread sea of midnight. “I don't see a light."

  He looked worriedly at her, as if her lack of vision bothered him to the extreme.

  Just then someone approached her. One of the people clinging to the walls. It was a child! A little boy, no more than eight years old. In gray, tattered clothing. His little face looked even more gaunt and haggard. But he had lovely, big eyes that fastened on her. That tried to claim her.

  "Are you my mom?” he asked in a squeaky voice that sent tiny arrows of sympathy shooting through her heart. “I can't find her."

  "Oh, no,” she cried. She looked at the man pulling on her hand. “Stop! We have to help him."

  The man was suddenly enraged. “No! It's a trick, Josie. We need to keep going."

  The little boy whimpered. His huge eyes filled with tears. “Please,” he said, only to her. “I don't know where she is. Will you stay and be my mommy?"

  Her hand flew to her mouth. The little angel! He wanted her to be his mom? It was heartbreaking.

  And yet it made perfect sense somehow. Yes, she could stay and keep him company in this fearful place. No child should be alone here.

  She took a step toward the boy, but the man next to her yelled, “No!"

  And before she could do anything else, he picked her up in his arms and ran toward the far end of the cave.

  The little boy burst into the most pitiful wail she'd ever heard. A cry which oozed through her pores, making her want to weep too. Josie shouted out for him, the cursed child, screaming for the little one who could have been her boy. She flailed in the man's arms, but he was far too powerful. He held her tight against his chest, the chest she was pounding with all her might in fury.

  How she hated the abominable man!

  He continued running. No, flying! Soon they were bathed in light again. Not the artificial light he'd created in the cave. Not the ominous pinpricks that were lingering in her brain for some reason, teasing and haunting her memory. Calling her back.

  Calling her back to the darkness.

  They were in a meadow, a place that looked so familiar, although she didn't know why. There were swaying grasses in this place, and wildflowers dotting the ground as far as she could see. And, up ahead, a large willow tree. Its full branches so long and graceful they swept the ground.

  The man reached the willow. Only then did he set her down, sitting next to her.

  She frowned at him. She had a vague impression she should be angry with him, but wasn't sure. It didn't seem right to be angry with such a gorgeous man who was regarding her with such obvious concern.

  No, more than concern. Love?

  She couldn't remember.

  He reached a hand toward her face and whispered, “Josie."

  It seemed right that she answer to that name, so she nodded, making the man smile in relief.

  "Do you remember me?” he asked in a quiet voice. His dark eyes crinkling with apprehension and hope at the same time.

  She stared at him, feeling she really ought to remember him. With a face like that, how could she forget? And yet, if she had any memory of him, it was evading her. It was being strangled by the vague recollection of a little boy's face. An unhappy boy, reaching for her. Calling, “Mommy!"

  She felt such sorrow, both because of the boy and because the man seemed so crushed at being forgotten.

  He reached for her hand and she let him, needing a measure of comfort. “Josie,” he whispered, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I love you."

  She choked back her own tears, wanting to cry for the disconsolate man. Wanting to understand why he'd say such a thing to her. And still the fragments of her memory pulled on her, taunted her. “I used to love someone once, too."

  She wouldn't have thought it possible, but he appeared even more desolate. “Sean?"

  She shook her head, not recognizing that name. “Someone else."

  "Really?” He brightened a little. “Tell me about him."

  "It's so unclear,” she admitted. “I remember sexy, dark eyes and a knowing smile. I remember him looking at me as if he could see into me. He was beautiful, I think, but I can't remember. I'm not sure he was real."

  "He's real, Josie. And he'll never forget you."

  With that, the dark-haired man spread her fingers and touched her palm. She looked down and was astounded at the message that seemed tattooed into her hand. The one that said, “I want to have sex with Dionysus."

  Josie stared. The message on her hand seemed to waver and then began to blanch. The rich crimson of the handwritten letters faded to pink, then a shade just darker than her skin. Then nothing.

  Her memories came back in one rushing swell, making her head hurt. She looked up at him. “Dionysus!"

  A single tear trailed down his cheek. He gathered her in his arms and didn't let her go for the longest time. And she'd never been happier to be held by him in her life.

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  Chapter 11

  Somehow during that time under the willow, they'd collapsed to the grassy ground. Their limbs entwined. Dionysus raked his fingers through her hair. Kissed her cheek, her temple, her jaw line, over and over, treating her as if she were a precious religious relic to be worshipped, revered.

  Holding her as no one had ever held her or ever would again.

  She had a vague recollection of him saying he loved her, but it seemed so distant it didn't make sense. As if she'd dreamed it.

  She must have dreamed it.

  How could someone like him love her? A baker from Toronto.

  She knew they had to get going, had to find Eurydice, but she was so happy in his arms. A
nd she didn't know how long it would last. What if he just disappeared when they left Hades? What if he had superhero, godly duties to fulfill and never came back to the bakery?

  What if this was all just a strange moment in which they were caught up in emotions that might fade as quickly as the writing on her palm?

  If that ended up being the case, then this was her moment. Possibly her one chance to feel the extraordinary rush of being loved by Dionysus. He wouldn't say no. She was sure of it. God only knew his erection was still hard and pressing up against her thigh.

  The blessed man got no relief. It was time to give him some.

  "Dionysus,” she whispered, telling herself to be brave, never having been any sort of sexual aggressor before.

  "Hmm,” he mumbled, barely moving, seemingly lost, his face buried in her neck.

  "Have you forgotten your promise?"

  That woke him up. His head darted up. His eyes looked a little dazed, as if she'd startled him out of the beginnings of a sleep. But he blinked a few times and roused himself quickly. “I haven't forgotten anything, trust me."

  She slowly got up on her knees and pushed him so that he was leaning back against the trunk of the willow. There were quite shaded by its massive branches. Even if there were any spirits haunting this meadow, she figured they wouldn't be seen by them. And, quite honestly, she didn't care anymore.

  Gazing into his surprised eyes, she began to push up the hem of his gorgeous robe, growing more excited with each inch of his exposed thighs. His chest rose and fell with sharp, quick breaths in response.

  "What are you doing?” he whispered.

  She offered him a small smile, doing her best to look sexy. “What I've been wanting to do since the first time you ordered coffee from me. Since I first laid eyes on you."

  Her candid comment silenced him. His jaw shut, and he just watched her, his eyes wide with amazement and long-withheld lust. Keeping her eyes trained on his, she moved the hem right up to his waist and was gratified to see he went commando under that sexy toga.