New Olympus Trilogy: Teenage Goddess Teenage Star Hell on Earth

by May Burnett

  “I’m sure you’ll make the right choice,” Eleni said with a slight smile. I hoped she was right.

  My conversation with her impelled me to finally get off my butt and study those scripts. One was an action movie with spectacular sequences and lots of explosions, not unlike the blockbuster Hurricane Riders and sequel. The second was a bittersweet melodrama, and the last one a thriller. It did not take me long to guess which role Tom wanted me to choose – the main part of the thriller seemed tailor-made for me, and the script was fresh and original. The sponsors were not able to offer as much cash as the other two, but the quality of the script, and the fascinating character of the starring role, more than made up for that. An internationally renowned director with two Oscars under his belt would direct.

  In the end, the choice was easy. Yet I felt a real pang when I wrote to Tom to decline the other two, which were also great in their different ways.

  Well. Some other actor would be ecstatic to get the chance to star in them. Let some of my rivals also enjoy success.

  In fact, were we rivals, or rather colleagues? The notion that all actors of similar age and genre were my rivals had been implanted by Jerry and Alice, and I had learned to distrust their moral compass. I determined to revise my attitudes and become more relaxed about the competiton. This was not a zero-sum game, after all. And who should be generous and helpful, if not the guy currently on top of the world?

  Maybe I should organise a party for all the colleagues of my age group, of both sexes, so we’d get to know each other better. Include the media, and talented hopefuls. Hell, why not a workshop too?

  My brain was whirring, jumping from one idea to the next. Whoa, Jason, I told myself, this is supposed to be your vacation! You need to relax, not have your brain run so hot all the time. But I couldn’t sleep that night, and wrote another song, So much still to do. It sounded good, but when I finished, it occurred to me that if I died young, they’d probably play it at my funeral – with Not the End, already a favourite at funerals all over the world, Tom had told me.

  A shiver ran down my back, and I told myself not to be so morbid.

  4

  We docked in Santorini the day after that, and I went swimming with the rest of the group. We stuck close to the yacht, as the shore here was gravelly and dark – formed of the volcanic lava that had formed this island, and now yet ground into fine sand. There was supposedly still an active volcano here, but right now, not a wisp of smoke could be seen from its top.

  Though slim enough due to their healthy diet and genetics, my parents were not in great shape, I noticed. After just twenty minutes in the water they had exhausted their stamina. Mother and Father ought to devote more time to exercise and less to travelling, eating, and business. Would they listen to my advice, though? I decided not to bring it up unless the occasion seemed propitious.

  Eleni on the other hand swam like a dolphin, as familiar with the water as though it were her second element. Well, she’d said she grew up on an island. I noticed that her hair looked darker when wet, and clung to her tanned shoulders in heavy strands.

  I let myself just float after a while, face up to the sky and sun, and let the water carry away all my worries and fears. If I was fated to meet Myra again, it would happen. If not, I knew, life would go on, and I would still be happy eventually, Even if a shark killed me right now, I’d have had a great life and be missed and mourned, possibly more than any other guy of seventeen. I was at peace … until Eleni tickled the sole of my foot.

  “Can you catch me?”

  I forgot about my strangely serene mood and gave chase - in vain, she was way faster, and slick as an eel.

  The island was too pretty not to explore after our swimming. Lightly disguised with big dark glasses and a baseball cap, I walked uphill with the others. About a third of the way up I stopped to hire a motorcycle and invited Eleni to ride up to the city with me. As she sat behind me, I was very conscious of her sweet fragrance and the small, hard bosom pressing against the back of my cotton T-shirt. Her hands tightly gripped me at the waist. The motorcycle went quite slowly, as the way uphill was not smooth. When we finally made it to the top of the hill, I estimated we were only fifteen minutes ahead of the walkers in the group.

  To while away this time, we found an ice-cream shop and were enjoying ourselves until I was recognized and surrounded by a group of eager young people. I found myself scribbling autographs on paper napkins or postcards. Most of the tourists snapped photos of me on their phones or cameras – I knew my location would be all over the internet within the next thirty minutes. A good thing these fans could not follow me onto the yacht, and we were leaving soon. Eleni was looking on with a smile as she licked her ice cream at another table, pretending not to have anything to do with me. I could not blame her – she wisely did not want to end up as tabloid fodder, as I had to be all the time, the price of my success. But in this sunny weather it did not seem so very terrible, after all.

  5

  The next night we were at anchor far from Santorini off a tiny, uninhabited island with a small secluded beach. After everyone went swimming in the bay, the staff organised a beach barbeque. The adults were indulging freely in wine and beer and even stronger liquor. I was offered some, but stuck to non-alcoholic beverages, almost stubbornly. It seemed a bit prudish in this atmosphere, with my parents’ permission to indulge, but I was still mulling over various new ideas buzzing round my brain, and preferred not to impair my judgement just then.

  Eventually I grew tired of the loud voices and irrelevant (to me) anecdotes told by Yannis and the others, and wandered away from the fire, up a little hill that bordered the beach. There was some moonlight, so I could see – more or less – as soon as I got away from the blinding fire. I used what looked like a goat path, though if there were goats around, they must have been hiding from us during the daylight hours.

  On top of the hill I stopped, enchanted. A small, half-ruined circular temple had been hidden by the crest of the hill. It must have had a spectacular sea view when it was inhabited. I sat down on a fallen marble pillar and contemplated this magical place.

  What would it have been like in its heyday? I pictured white-clad lithe girls coming to worship here. Maybe even Hercules had passed by to sacrifice to the gods, or my namesake, the original Jason. His luck had not held, though that had been mostly his own fault, for being disloyal to his wife.

  “Jason?”

  Eleni was standing among the ruins, not unlike the ancient girls I had imagined – possibly her direct ancestors – if you disregarded the fact that she wore shorts and a pale T-Shirt. She slowly approached me.

  “What a wonderful place,” she said. “I had no idea that this was here.”

  Eleni sat down on the pillar, right next to me. I could sense the warmth of her slim body, just a couple of inches from mine.

  “Would you kiss me, Jason? This night, this place, the moonshine, it seems a waste without at least a kiss.”

  She waited in silence, saying nothing more.

  I sat like stone. Part of me wanted to wrap my arms about her, but something held me back.

  “Eleni, I like and admire you a great deal,” I said after a minute. “I want to kiss you too, possibly because of the moonlight. But I still hope that I’ll meet the girl I love again, and it would not be fair on anyone to start something, before I know whether she is alive.”

  “You still love her?” Eleni sounded curious rather than disappointed.

  “Yes. This whole year, I’ve lived with her spirit like a familiar ghost around me. When I’ve been in doubt or trouble, I’ve consulted her. Does this sound stupid? The songs you liked, I wrote them for her. When I did that first concert, in L.A., only the idea that she might be hidden in the audience gave me the courage to go on.”

  “Yet you only knew her for such a short time.”

  “True, and I behaved like an ass for much of those weeks. But time does not matter when the heart is involved.”
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br />   “The consensus seems to be that she’s dead,” Eleni said, in a tentative voice.

  “On the contrary, I am convinced, and have had some evidence, that she’s still very much alive. I’d give anything if she were her, now.”

  Another minute of silence. I wearily closed my eyes. Was I behaving like a fool? Why not kiss the lovely girl right here, next to me, and let the past take care of itself? But all my instincts warned me that that would be a terrible mistake.

  “Open your eyes, Jason.” Eleni’s voice had changed, held a command that I could not have refused for the life of me. She had stood up, and before my eyes she changed – her height, her face, her clothes all blurred for a moment and in place of the familiar girl I saw a young goddess in front of me. She had Myra’s face and body, but shone with a radiance that illuminated the ruined temple with a warm golden light. I’d seen her like this only once, in a dream endless months ago.

  “Myra, -” I rose unsteadily to my feet.

  “Jason,” she said, softly, and then we kissed – at long last, deeply, wordlessly. Her very essence seemed of different material. The taste of her lips and tongue was intoxicating, and I knew nothing else in my life, however long I lived, would ever come close to such dazed ecstasy.

  “You came,” I said at last, when I needed to breathe again.

  “I love you, Jason.” Myra took my hand. “After I went back to New Olympus, my home, I decided to give you a chance to forget about me. That sudden passion you felt for me – that was the mischief of my cousin Eros. The whole time we were together, I felt guilty and uneasy, because you were not in your right mind.”

  “That explains a lot.” I’d cringed when I recalled some of my sappy declarations. Good to know there were extenuating circumstances.

  “”My first act when I was safely home was to get father to lift the enchantment from you. My father is Zeus,” she added, making my breath hitch. “It seemed reasonable that you would be cured of your passion, and able to go on with your life. But you stubbornly clung to my memory, and wrote those lovely songs…”

  “About that - did you send P.A. to me? Who is he?”

  “Phoebus Apollo,” she said. I had to sit down again on the pillar.

  “So my composition tutor was the sun god, the god of music and poetry? No wonder that I made such rapid progress.”

  “All my relatives were grateful that you saved me that day I was hurt in the mountains, and kept an eye on you. When Argos alerted us about your agent’s plot, Hell went right from his maths class to your house to help out.”

  “So the Gods themselves were taking an interest in me all this time?”

  “Only until you’d give in to temptation, take up with another girl, start to act like an ass, as most of them bet you would long before the year was out. But you didn’t. In fact, today you are much more like the Jason I imagined you to be when I turned up in your class in Colorado.”

  “Why did you?”

  “Well, even the gods have whims and foolish wishes sometimes, especially when we are only sixteen. Just like you, I’m much older and wiser now.”

  We kissed again.

  ”How could you be Eleni? I’ve known Yannis for most of my life, and here he introduced you as his cousin.”

  “It’s a good thing you didn’t ask exactly how we are related, because he couldn’t have told you. I just turned up at the boat and claimed to be his cousin, and he accepted it. We goddesses can do this sort of thing.”

  “Like hypnotism?”

  “If that’s what you want to call it. But I promise never to use this power on you, darling. From now on you’ll be able to recognize me under any guise, anywhere.”

  “Good.” We sat side by side, my arms round her waist, pressing her slim body to mine.

  “So if your father is Zeus, that would make you a goddess, or semi-goddess?”

  “Full goddess, as my mother is his wife Hera.”

  “And yet you’re only seventeen?”

  “It is a mystery even to the gods, why Hell and I were born to them after more than two thousand years without offspring. Hell is determined to find the reason; I just accept the fact.”

  “And of all the boys and men in the world, you were interested in me?”

  “I thought I was – but now I’m certain.” She squeezed my hand. “This will take some doing, but we can be together, as long as you still love me.”

  “You doubt me, after all this?”

  “No, never again.” Another breathtaking kiss followed.

  “You didn’t glow like this when I met you before, or as Eleni,” I noted. “

  “In Colorado I’d been deprived of my divine powers and glamour, that’s why you had to save my life in the end; I was actually mortal then, but I won’t risk that again.”

  “No, please,” I said. “I couldn’t take it if you died again. You’re immortal now?”

  She nodded.

  “There is something strange about that – when I’m old and grey you’ll still be this young and radiant?”

  “I can change my appearance, as I just demonstrated, and tone down my attraction. But this is the real me. And maybe we can do something about your getting old and grey.”

  “I love you.”

  “I know.”

  Her revelations and our ecstatic reunion were interrupted by slurred voices from the beach below, “Jason? Eleni? Where are you?”

  Reality was intruding again.

  “The beach party is ending, we’ll have to go down to join the others,” Myra – who suddenly looked like Eleni again – said regretfully. “Come on, Jason.”

  Hand in hand, we walked down the hill. My heart was full to bursting. My acting abilities were not nearly good enough to contain my happiness.

  “So you and Eleni are getting on well?” my father asked, looking at our hands, still firmly joined.

  “You have no idea how well. I plan to attend whichever college Eleni chooses next year.”

  “You’re looking that far ahead?” he asked, startled. “Remember, you’re both only seventeen.”

  “A great age to be,” I said blithely and pulled Myra behind me, towards the yacht.

  Her sweet laughter rang in my ears as we climbed up the ladder to the deck.

  THE END

  Hell on Earth

  Children of New Olympus

  May Burnett

  Chapters

  1 Melinda

  2 Hell

  3 Melinda

  4 Melinda

  5 Hell

  6 Melinda

  7 Melinda

  8 Melinda

  9 Melinda

  10 Hell

  11 Hell

  12 Melinda

  13 Hell

  14 Melinda

  15 Hell

  16 Melinda

  17 Hell

  18 Melinda

  19 Melinda

  20 Melinda

  21 Hell

  22 Melinda

  23 Melinda

  About the Author

  1 Melinda

  It is late, almost midnight. I lean back against Hell’s warm shoulder, enjoying his closeness and strong heartbeat, and the way his left hand absently massages my neck.

  Our love may be doomed, but I’m determined to enjoy it while it lasts.

  “Mmh – this is nice,” I mumble. “Could you stop your heartbeat if you want?”

  “For you, anytime.” I cannot see his face in this position, but from his voice I can tell he is smiling. The heart stops beating, though breath still passes in and out of Hell’s chest.

  After a couple of seconds I feel an irrational spurt of alarm.

  “Make it beat again,” I say, vehemently. His heart resumes its beat, strong and regular.

  “How did that feel?”

  “Normal. I didn’t notice any difference.”

  Of course he wouldn’t. Hell could turn himself to an ice pillar or a tree and say afterwards that he felt normal. Then again, his definition of “nor
mal” is somewhat different from mine.

  Hell is not supposed to be in my room at this hour – at any hour, really – since we are students in a boarding school and boys sleep in the other wing. There are several locked doors between his bedroom and mine, but they mean nothing to Hell. Lately he’s taken to visiting me for an hour or so before we sleep, popping in around eleven o’clock. Mostly we just talk – about everything and anything. Sometimes we talk in my native Spanish, other nights, like now, in English. We have been discussing my ambition to manage a wild life reservation when I finish my education with degrees in biology and zoology; Hell teased me that I’d better study fast or there might not be anything left to preserve.

  We have kissed and touched, but no more. I’m not sure how much longer this abstinence will continue, but neither of us is putting pressure on the other.

  Though it’s hard to remember, I try to keep in mind that Hell is only fourteen. When he joined the school in September – it is early December now – he was actually shorter than I, and I’m the runt of the class. Since then he has added some height, and now is nearly an inch taller. His shoulders have also broadened to their current, convenient size. None of the other students or faculty have noticed this growth spurt, which occurred overnight during an excursion to Atlanta.

  I inhale his pleasant, warm fragrance, and relax. “This is nice,” I repeat. “I could almost forgive Uncle Hector.”

  “Who is he? What does he have to do with us?”

  “He’s the reason I’m here with you. The reason I was sent to a boarding school in Colorado, the only Colombian in the whole place.”

  “How come?” Hell is interested in everything. I have told him many things about my family – well, about my parents and my three older brothers and my beloved abuela – but there are darker sides to our family history, which I try to forget whenever I can. But I don’t need to keep secrets from Hell.