SOPHIE NEARLY JUMPED OUT OF her chair. Forcing herself to remain seated and not cause a scene, she gripped the edge of the table. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“There was no reason to tell you. He doesn’t know. None of us have approached him.”
“Well, were you going to?”
“Maybe. Eventually. We’re being extra careful these days, as you know.”
“But—this is important. This seems like the kind of thing you should have told me.” Beyond that, she couldn’t articulate why she felt betrayed.
“I’m telling you now.” Adrian stayed patient, watching her steadily.
She relaxed her fingers on the table’s edge. Her mind tried to reconcile the images: strong, feminine, beautiful Demeter, the same soul as her weary, mustached dad. Given their protective attitudes toward her, actually, she saw the resemblance.
“What does it change?” Adrian continued gently. “Your mum and dad are still your mum and dad.”
She gazed at the scenery photos that had taken over her laptop as a screen saver. “Who was my mom, back then?”
“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t. It isn’t the largest number of people, those we can track.”
“You have to trade blood somehow? Like you and Rhea in the sacrifice, or pricking your fingers and pressing them together?”
“Or share blood with someone as a parent. Or of course…sleeping with someone.”
“And you can sense Demeter’s soul?”
“Yes.”
“So did you two…”
“The blood trick,” he promised. “That’s all.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” She picked up her fork again and stabbed a leaf of salad. “Now I’m wondering what he would do, if we brought him to the other realm, got him to eat the pomegranate. I honestly don’t know if he’d like the whole deal.”
“I don’t plan to approach him.” Adrian peeled the plastic wrap from the brownie, broke it in half, and handed the larger section to her. “I don’t think anyone else will, either. Rhea doesn’t think anyone new should be made. That’s why she was brassed off at me when I brought you there.”
Sophie smiled, remembering Rhea lecturing Adrian. “Has she forgiven you?”
“Yeah.” He bit into his half of the brownie. “She comes and sees me once or twice a week. We’ve given her a mobile phone, but she hasn’t quite got the hang of using it. She did tell me she’d enjoy visiting you, if you’re willing.”
“Oh. Of course.” Sophie took a bite of the chewy brownie, pondering how Rhea looked the same now as she had in Persephone’s time. Could it really be…? As the truth dawned on her, she looked suddenly at Adrian. “She’s been in the same body this whole time?”
Nodding, Adrian pulled a walnut out of the brownie and popped it into his mouth. “The only one who has. As far as we know.”
“But how long was she alone like that? How many years—centuries—”
“Longer than anyone can imagine.” He ate the last corner of his brownie. “She slept for most of it, mind you. Only awakened recently. We spoke to her, as Grete and Karl, you know.”
Sophie gasped as the memory burst back into her mind with clarity. “We did! We were still down there when she woke up. I’d skipped over so many of those recent memories, I didn’t even know till now…”
“I was about ready to leave, and be reborn, and you soon did the same. But we made her promise to come find us, once we were grown up, and once she was able to navigate the modern world.” He smiled. “So it was predestined, really, you and me being introduced in this life.”
Sophie shook her head in wonder, ruminating upon that while she finished her portion of brownie.
Wiping crumbs off his fingers, Adrian lifted his chin toward the windows of the cafe, where the sun was brightening the street. “Looks like it’s warming up. Shall we walk?”
They packed up their computers and went out onto the street. Adrian insisted on taking all her heavy books into his pack, promising he wouldn’t notice the weight. People strolled past, some in comfortable dark coats and others in bright colors, drinking from paper coffee cups or tapping the screens of their cell phones. Skyscrapers peeked between the Victorian buildings.
Adrian looked around in interest. “I miss cities. Lately I’m always in the wilderness.”
She turned into a side street full of tiny shops. “Then let’s explore.”
They spent the afternoon browsing the neighborhood—clothing, antiques, music, books, kitchenware, imported gifts with Chinese or Japanese script on their labels, anything that took their fancy.
They talked all the while. Sophie told him more about Tab, and he shared stories of his friend Zoe—who, she learned, was blind. “It was something to bond over,” he said, “both of us disabled in our way. I still feel protective of her, and I want her to become immortal, because—well, she deserves it, and then surely she’d be able to see. But she’s highly stubborn and won’t even eat the pomegranate. If only she’d eat it, she’d at least be able to see in her dreams.”
“Do you know who she was in Persephone’s lifetime?”
“Yeah, I do.” He glanced apologetically at her. “Shouldn’t tell you yet, but before long you’ll know.”
“Fine, no spoilers. Feel like dinner?”
They found a pizza place on one of the side streets adjoining Castro, and each devoured three slices of a thick pie topped with pepperoni, artichoke hearts, and olives.
The sun sank, and the air was cold again when they came out. Sophie and Adrian retrieved their warm hats from their backpacks and put them on.
As they walked to Buena Vista Park to find their starting point, Sophie asked, “So. Aphrodite. Is she one of the people you can sense?”
He chuckled in a manner that suggested he’d been awaiting and dreading this question. “Yes. I can.”
“And? Have you met her? In this life, I mean.”
“Yeah. She came and found me. She was just curious.”
“So if she came and found you, she must be immortal too. Only immortals can do the sensing-tracking thing.”
He admitted this with a nod.
“So what’s she like?” Sophie prodded.
He gazed at the sidewalk. “She’s quite beautiful. It’d be silly to pretend otherwise. But we’re not…involved. She’s about thirty years older than me.”
“But I bet she looks twenty-three,” Sophie pointed out. “And you’ll both live forever.”
“Well…yeah. But no one ties down Aphrodite.”
“Plenty want to.”
Adrian gave her another glance, his face in shadow as they entered the park in the twilight. “Look, you may remember, when I was Hades…there was a time or two, mostly before I knew you—Persephone, I mean. But Aphrodite gave such times to a lot of people.”
“Gosh. How generous.” Sophie sounded icier than she meant to.
Adrian bowed his head. His boots kicked up leaves as he walked. “I’ll also admit,” he finally added, “that even in this life, when Freya—that’s her name now—came and found me last year…well, for old times’ sake, being friends and all, just this one time…” He let the sentence die off, allowing her intuition to fill in the blanks.
Sophie wasn’t prepared for the arrow of jealousy that penetrated her stomach. She narrowed her eyes at the city lights. “Lucky you.”
“You have to understand.” Adrian sounded hesitant, maybe even miserable. “Before, being disabled and all, I hadn’t…been with anyone. I wasn’t really able to. I knew that in other lives she was always a friend, someone I could trust, and I didn’t know how long it might be, how many years, before I could meet you properly, if I ever would, so…I need to shut up now, don’t I.”
Sympathy washed away most of the jealousy. Sophie despised herself for not even considering how limited his experience might have been when he was confined to a wheelchair. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to be a bitch. It’s none of my business. Of course you’re f
ree to…I mean…I had a boyfriend till, like, Wednesday, so it’s okay.”
Oh, my God, she thought. We’re talking like we have claims on each other. Frightening, sort of, but mostly exhilarating.
He glanced at her as they waded through a layer of sweet-smelling pine needles. “You doing all right about that? Jacob, I mean.”
She nodded. “The first day or two was a little shaky. But today I’ve felt mostly good.”
The fading evening light wrapped him in shadows, but the shine of his eyes reached her vision clearly. “Good,” he echoed.
Reaching the same tree where they’d startled the jogger earlier, Adrian slipped his arm into hers to draw her near. She laid her hands on his shoulders, looking away, suddenly feeling shy. He transferred them into the spirit realm, where darkness cascaded around them—no city lights, and a multitude of trees to block the sky. The brightest thing around was the gentle glow of the ghost horses.
Adrian reached into a coat pocket and lit up the darkness with his cell phone. “Let’s see if I can drive us out of here without hitting a tree.”
They climbed into the bus, and he navigated them out of the forest, only letting the horses pick up serious speed once they got over the treetops. The sunset silhouetted the hills in a crisp line. Frigid wind made Sophie’s eyes water. She slid close to Adrian.
He settled an arm around her, and they rode in silence a few minutes. Then he said, “You know, even though it was Aphrodite, and it was lovely…well, this time around, I kind of wish I hadn’t.”
Sophie smiled. He didn’t have to say such things, but she appreciated the gesture. “Seriously, it’s all right.”
“Just would have liked it to—I don’t know, mean more.” He adjusted the reins, tilting the bus leftward. The faint gleam of a river swept past; the smell of wet earth surrounded the bus, then vanished. “You absolutely don’t have to answer, but have you…well, I suppose you’ve had more experience?”
“In some ways. But, as it happens, not that one thing.”
“Ah. Probably smart.”
In a silence cozy and shy, huddled together, they descended to the meadow in Oregon.
Using their cell phones as flashlights, they picked their way through the damp grass. When they reached the newest stake with the orange flagging, Sophie shut off her phone’s screen and tipped her head back to gaze at the night sky. “Wow. I haven’t seen so many stars in years.”
“Yeah.” Adrian looked up. “That’s one benefit of hiding out in this realm.”
A soul streaked by, a mile distant, like a pale green meteor, and they fell quiet in respect.
“Well.” He set his hands on her waist. “Suppose I should take you back. You have classes tomorrow.”
She reached up and twined her arms around his neck. His face was warm against her temple. He didn’t switch realms at once; they lingered in the embrace. She turned and lifted her head. She could barely see a thing in the darkness, but finding his lips by touch would be easy enough, especially as he wasn’t turning his head away. In fact, he was lowering it, and then she was kissing him.
He transferred one hand to the back of her head, holding her there. She sank into the warmth of his lips, and breathed the scent of his hair and the fresh outdoors. The kiss stretched a handful of seconds, long enough to set her tingling from head to feet.
As the kiss ended, he hugged her close, resting his chin on top of her head. “Ah, Sophie Darrow.” He tipped up her head and kissed her again. “You’re magnificent.”
She burrowed happily into his arms, and the world swung and wobbled around them. Lights glared into existence. The statue loomed up beside them. Cars and voices murmured from all around. Sophie peeked out from the front of his coat to find the spot near the hedge, where they’d started.
With reluctance, she let go of him. “I’ll text you. Maybe we can hang out tomorrow.”
“I’d like that.”
“And I’ll keep you updated on the dreams. Those seem to be getting interesting.”
“Oh, they are. Enjoy.” He smiled even wider—truly he’d been smiling ever since the kisses. As had she.
But as she remembered that first taste of Persephone’s memories, both of them ghosts, walking grief-stricken in the Underworld, her smile faded. “I guess it has to get grim eventually, though.”
He granted that with a nod, but assured her, “Not just yet. You should have a while of mostly good stuff first.”
“Cool.” She sauntered backward, managing not to run into the statue. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Sophie strode across the lawn, glancing back over her shoulder a few times to see if she could catch one more glimpse of him, but he was wisely staying hidden. Regret stole across her happiness—but then, she did want him to be careful, for both their sakes.
The grin spread across her face again, and her feet moved faster and faster until she was jogging so swiftly and easily it felt like flying.
PUMPING BOTH FISTS up toward the millions of stars in the spirit realm, Adrian laughed out loud. Then he sprinted across the field, in the dark, and was met halfway by Kiri, who barked and wagged her tail. He scooped her up, all forty kilograms of her, and held her in the air above his head, where she wriggled in protest. Setting her down, he rewarded her with the pizza crusts wrapped in a napkin that he’d carried home in his pack.
He knelt and stroked her head as she gobbled them. “You’re going to see a lot more of Sophie. You like her, don’t you?”
Kiri lifted her muzzle to bestow a pizza-crumb lick upon his cheek.
“Yeah,” he answered. “I like her too.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
JACOB TEXTED SOPHIE THAT EVENING: I feel like crap. How about you? Will you please just tell me I might get a second chance?
Sophie didn’t flinch at doling out a refusal. A woman who’d been kissing the lord of the Underworld could handle anybody.
I don’t see us getting back together. I’m sorry, but it’s best if I don’t lead you on. You’ll get over me and find a better match. Really you will. I want you to be happy. Take care.
Setting down her phone, she engaged Melissa in a conversation about the horrible music choices of some of the people in their dorm—generally the ones with the loudest speakers. Then, sleepy after all that hiking up and down San Francisco’s steep hills, she changed into pajamas and got into bed.
From her pillow she sent Adrian a text: Just felt like saying goodnight again. So, goodnight. :)
He answered in under a minute. Goodnight, beautiful.
Smiling, she closed her eyes and reached for Persephone’s memories.
PERSEPHONE’S DREAMS UNFOLDED, awakening her mind to lifetimes of other experiences.
“It’s strange, but—well, enlightening, to use your word,” she told Hades. She packed soil around the young apple tree she was transplanting into the Underworld. “Water, please.”
Hades hefted the clay jug, filled from the underground river, and tilted it to water the soil. “Gives you an insight into other people and places that no amount of traveling or study could.”
“I feel I’ve aged fifty years. A hundred and fifty. Suddenly I know what it’s like to have done all these things I’ve never done—lie with people, give birth, see my children married. Die.” She spoke the last word softly, brushing wet soil off one of the leaves.
“I know. I can hardly treat you as an innocent anymore.”
He sounded rueful, and she looked up at him. “Is that a bad thing?”
He set down the jug, clearing his throat. “Children and youths are charming when they’re innocent. But I suppose it’s better that I don’t have to worry too much about damaging you.”
Demeter, of course, was quite ready to place the blame at his door. The next day she found Persephone beside the hearth, wiping away tears while laying out herbs for drying. “It isn’t onions you’re working with,” said Demeter, “so no tears are warranted. Who’s the scoundrel and what’
s he done to you?”
Persephone laughed, rubbing her eyes. “It’s nothing like that. I was…thinking of something I’d heard lately, about a young mother who died.”
In truth it was one of her own memories, three or four lives ago. The death of her mother in a terrifying raid by an invading tribe, in some land she couldn’t even name, had shaken her out of her mid-day nap, and still haunted her.
Demeter studied her. Persephone kept her gaze lowered, smoothing out mint cuttings. “Did Hades feed you one of his pomegranates?” Demeter’s voice was cool and hard.
Persephone laid down the handful of dill she held. “No. I stole one and ate it. He didn’t want me to.”
Demeter exhaled a furious breath and began pacing.
“Mother,” Persephone entreated. “If you would only try it, you’d see it’s marvelous, amazing—”
“So marvelous it leaves you weeping over the herbs by yourself? Yes, it sounds wonderful.”
“Some of the memories are sad of course, but on the whole it’s fantastic. The languages I know now—the new ways to prepare food—” She grabbed two of the herbs and held them up as if this would change her mother’s mind. “Look, I’m going to try something new tonight with the lamb. You’ll see.”
Demeter shot her a look. “You realize this doesn’t make you immortal. You’re still every bit as vulnerable as before.”
“Yes. But worlds smarter.”
“Worlds more tempted, I would think.”
Persephone set aside the handful of herbs. “Stop worrying. Just wait till you taste this lamb.”
But Demeter had a valid point. Those “lying with people” memories fired up Persephone’s mind and body rather too thoroughly. Being trained in healing, she already knew how the basic process worked. But she remained a virgin, having only been kissed, and then not seriously—unless Hermes had naughtier motives when kissing her in greeting or farewell, which indeed he might, from what she heard of him. Still, it wasn’t Hermes, but her latest friend and tutor in the Underworld, whom she kissed and touched in her imagination.
Did that remark about not viewing her as innocent anymore mean he thought of her the same way? The idea made her blood spread hot through her. Of course he wouldn’t dare—a mortal girl; it was too dangerous. There could be no serious future in it. But perhaps a dalliance, some playing around…? Gods above, her mother would lock her up if she knew about such thoughts.
Persephone's Orchard (The Chrysomelia Stories) Page 21
