That wasn’t the way it worked out. Instead, Maggie woke up, she was startled, she started to fight, and he let the sling slide over his head. Hovering in the night sky above the ocean, Eros watched her fall and listened to her screaming; ‘No, don’t drop me!’ Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine she would wash up on Ares’ shore here in Greece. Or that he would ever be this close to her again.
“I came to see you. Where are your clothes, Maggie? Why are you out here in the cold weeping?” The God of Love knelt by her side and took her hand. “What has my Father done?”
Eros’ voice, like his touch, was soft and gentle. It was very welcome after last night. “Just a-a lover’s quarrel.”
“Lover’s quarrel?” With her knees tucked up under her chin, Eros plainly saw the paw marks from her hips to her lower thighs. Was that a slight bruise on her cheek? Her neck? “Well, if this is what happens when you fight I wonder what it’s like when you make love.” He couldn’t resist if he tried, she was so close and it had been so long since he’d touched her. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and take her for a long flight, hear her laugh, and then he would take her some place quiet and safe. The belt no longer an obstacle he dreamed of the day he would have her under him so sweet and willing. Gingerly sitting down beside her, Eros spread his wing and let it wrap around Alena’s shoulders and envelope her. Holding it up in a high arch, it sheltered her from the wind and cold rain. “You’re shivering, Maggie. Lean next to me, I’ll keep you warm.” He remembered how much she used to like to sleep in the soft crook of his wings. How she curled up there like a little kitten, her face pressed to the nape of his neck. “I don’t want you to be cold.”
Sitting here with him looking at those beautiful wings upon his shoulders and staring into those eyes with a good deal of fear and confusion there was something familiar about him. Almost comforting. Alena knew it was Eros who’d dropped her into the sea. She should be afraid of him and yet she wasn’t because under that disturbing knowledge was a deeper one; he hadn’t dropped her into the sea because he wanted to be rid of her or to harm her. Some small inner voice told her that he might even have been trying to protect her. “That’s very kind of you,” Alena stammered, realizing that Eros not only felt warm, he smelled like fresh baked bread. That was also familiar and nearly welcome.
“No need my dear, no need to thank me.” Eros pulled her in a little closer. At first she was stiff but then she began to relax a little in his arms. “Yes, you just rest.” With a little coaxing but not much effort, he was able to lay her head upon his shoulder. “Poor Maggie, my Father can be so…overzealous sometimes. He becomes lost to his Fire and his Passions; they overtake him—as does his temper. Which was this? His temper or his desire?”
Alena just shook her head and let out a low mournful moan. She let Eros pull her a little closer until her head was lying on his bare chest. Unlike his Father, Eros had no hair here but he was just as solid if not nearly as broad and brawny. That wonderful smell of warm bread wafted off him and made her a little sleepy.
“For all his looks and his charm, my Father is a selfish brute, Maggie. I fear that you’re coming to understand this on your own, aren’t you? What you must also understand is that this will never change.”
Alena shuddered and let out a sad little cry as her stormy eyes turned up to meet Eros’ gaze. “Never?” Alena’s heart felt heavy in her bruised chest. If what Eros said was true then perhaps there was no spell or curse after all. The way Ares had been behaving these last few days was nothing more than him showing her his true colors. In that case, there was little way out. No spell would ever cure him of his true nature.
“Never,” Eros agreed quietly. Wings and arms wrapped around her, Eros drew his hand along her cheek and watched her eyes softly close as she nuzzled against his palm. Whatever Ares had done last night he’d gone far over the line with her. Eros would like nothing more than to take full advantage of the confusion and vulnerability he saw reflecting back at him in her misty eyes.
Suddenly Alena just had to know the truth of how she came to reside here on Ares’ island. “Why did yo—.”
“What a cozy little scene.”
Eros looked up to see his Father and his Grandfather standing in the tall grass. “It’s not what you think, Father.”
“What do I think, boy?” Ares dared.
“It’s cold and raining, I gave her shelter. That’s all Father.” Eros said strongly as opened his wings and let Alena escape. Looking her naked bruised body up and down Eros sneered at his Father. “Although it seems more than you are able to do for her.”
Ares’ nostrils flared at the insult as his smoldering eyes turned to Alena. “And you? Are you enjoying my Son’s company?”
Alena covered her breasts with one arm and crossed her legs while holding the other hand over the bare patch between them. In an indignant tone she answered him, “We didn’t do anything. He’s your Son, you think he would—you think I would? Never.”
Ares looked from his Son to his new Lover and back again. While Alena was flushed, Eros was sporting the beginning of a hard-on. “No? Perhaps given another five minutes or so—”
“Never,” Alena asserted, as she stood before the three men naked and shivering in the rain. “Would one of you be so kind as to—”
Before she could finish, Eros waved his hand in the air, clothing her in a warm silk gown and heavy woolen shawl. Ares growled as he leered at the two of them. “Let the woman keep her modesty, Father, gods know she’s given up her dignity to be with you.”
“What has she given up to you?”
“I know how it must have looked but please believe me,” Alena protested as she wrapped the shawl tightly around her shoulders, bringing it up to cover her head from the cold rain.
“In my Grandson’s defense, Ares, the woman did run out of your home naked and crying.” While Zeus would like nothing more than to stand here and witness the bloody and violent end of one Magdalena MacLeod, they had business to attend. “Eros, go back to Olympus, tell your Grandmother Ares and I have gone to visit with Hades.”
“What?” Alena gasped. “When…what…”
“You,” Ares scowled as his head slowly turned in her direction, “get back inside. Zeus has done much work with the map you scratched out. Study it. Tell me more when I return.”
Alena stood frozen, looking from one to the other wondering what was happening.
“GO!”
She turned on her heels and took off toward the cave without looking back.
“And you,” Ares said to his Son, “if you dare to return here in my absence, I’ll kill you. Stay away from my woman, boy. Far away.”
“She’ll come to me on her own, Father. You always destroy what you claim to hold dear and when you do, I’ll be waiting.” Eros remarked with a grin before taking flight. On his way back to Olympus, he saw Alena dash into the opening of the cave only to have it seal shut behind her.
4
On the northern tip of Ares’ island, there was a deep crag in the mountainside below the cave. “Are you sure you don’t just want to call him out? You know Hades hates unexpected visitors.”
“Just do it,” Zeus huffed and gave Ares a harsh swat in the backside with his Staff.
“Whatever you say, Father.” Ares forced his hands into the crack in the mountain, summoning up all of his physical strength he pried the sides apart. The mountain rumbled as it began to move, rocks and dust fell upon Ares as he pushed and pushed the doors to the Underworld. Slowly they parted until the space between them was wide enough to accommodate the passage of Father and Son. The souls lining the riverbank turned toward the newcomers and then to the light. “Hurry up, Father!” Ares shouted and grabbed hold of Zeus’ arm to pull him inside before turning around to push the sides of the mountain back together, preventing the souls charging at them from making good their escape. “Get back in line!” Ares roared at them as he batted his hands in their direction and they scattered in m
id-descent, crying out with injustice. “I hate this place.”
“Not a big a fan of it, either,” Zeus agreed as he made his way down the steep riverbank covered not with sand but with molten rock. Reaching the small leaky boat and Charon, the Ferryman, Zeus stepped in front of those waiting in line and into the boat.
The hooded figure turned to the God of Gods not showing his face but putting out a skeletal hand. “You must pay me now.”
“Nice try,” Zeus sneered and slapped the bony paw away. “I’ve done this before, take us to the other side or there’ll be no payment for you.”
The little boat rocked heavily as Ares climbed in and took a seat. Charon held his hand out to the God of War. “Greedy little prick, move this boat! Don’t you dare try to tip it halfway across.”
Gods, Charon hated them. They were never willing to pay their own way, as everyone else had to do. Rudely shoving the pike into the bottom of the river, he let the little boat drift away from shore as he guided it across to the other side. Once there, he held out his hand again.
“Maybe on the way back,” Zeus said to him as he climbed out of the boat.
Ares reached into his pocket and produced a gold coin. “I’ll give you three more if you wait here for us.” The coin dropped into Charon’s hand, disappeared into the cowl where Ares heard him bite upon it to make sure it was real gold. Then the cowl moved slightly up and down as the creature below it nodded. “Keep the damn motor running,” Ares said as he jumped out of the boat. “I don’t to want to stay here one minute more than I have to.”
Zeus and Ares walked up the bank and then paused at the great gates guarding the Underworld. They did not part to the side as the crag had done; these gates hung high overhead and had large spikes on the bottom. The type of thing where one got the feeling if they did not cross quickly the massive guillotine-like gates would come crashing down and decapitate them.
Once through they wound their way through a narrow dark corridor, Ares ignited a fireball in the palm of his hand to light their way. “You take me to the best places, Father,” Ares snarled as they walked, each of them feeling heavier and heavier with each step. It became harder to breath as the air not only grew fouler but it had a thick oily feel to it. It caught in the throat and stuck to the lungs. Soon the gate on the opposite side came into view, this one more inviting than its counterpart with its bright stream of internal sunlight, so bright it nearly blinded them. Once through it, the fireball extinguished itself and their magick was no longer available to them. Their eyes adjusted to the bright light as they took in the sights of the souls wandering here on the outskirts of the Underworld. Wretched little souls not good enough in life to make it to the Elysian Fields, not bad enough to be condemned to Tartarus, they were stuck here scrapping and scraping by for the remainder of eternity.
The trip was made in silence until they reached the Cross Roads and the Judges standing at the intersection. Minos, Rhadamant, and Aiakos recognized Ares and Zeus. They warmly greeted the God of Gods. They would not allow Ares to pass them on the road to the Elysian Fields and Hades’ Black Palace.
“You know who we are!” Zeus said sternly. “I command you to let my Son pass. We are to visit Hades.”
“Yes, I won’t be staying long,” Ares agreed.
Aiakos shook his head and announced, “You cannot pass, Lord Ares. This road is not for you.”
“I know I am condemned to Tartarus when I die,” Ares snorted, “I’m not dead yet, hmm? Let me pass.”
Rhadamant, the most rational of the three old warriors charged with guarding this road, was able to see Ares’ point. “Let him pass.”
Aiakos turned to Minos, the leader of the three and the one with the final vote on all matters in which the other two deadlocked. “This road is only for those who are or who will eventually pass to the Fields. Turn back now, Lord Ares, or try and fight your way through.”
“You think I can’t best you? You’re dead. Or did you forget it was me who put your sorry ass down here?” Ares challenged.
“We have important business with my brother, Hades!” Zeus railed. “Get out of our way!”
5
Hades had been enjoying a leisurely day of lying around his Palace in the company of his own women when Zeus’ angry voice began to reverberate in the black marble around him. “Excuse me ladies,” Hades said smoothly as he rose from the bed and the middle of three beauties. “I believe I have company.” It was very unusual for Zeus to make the trip down here and this brought concern to the God of Death who quickly made his way to the Cross Road, only to find Zeus and Ares arguing with the Judges. “What is going on here?” Hades demanded. “Why don’t you let my Family pass?”
“Zeus may pass,” Minos offered kindly. “Ares may not.”
Hades looked at Ares and pursed his lips. “Isn’t there anything you can do to purge your soul of these black stains? Don’t you think it’s time you grew up and at least tried?”
“What’s the point, Uncle? I am what I am. I would have to bring about everlasting world peace or something to accomplish that. What do you think my chances are there?”
Hades held a hand to his head and sighed. “Let them through.” The judges parted to allow Zeus and Ares to go on their way toward the Fields, but Minos gave Ares a cold glare. It was clear he couldn’t wait to get a shot at the God of War. “The least you could have done was call ahead,” Hades said to the two of them as he led them back to the Black Palace. “What’s wrong with you, Ares? You look like shit.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Uncle, but I really hate this place,” Ares complained.
Inside Hades took them to his dining hall and sat them at a long, highly polished black marble table surrounded by matching heavy chairs. “Sit. Can I offer you refreshments?” Hades chimed with a smile, careful to be sure they each sat near the head of the table and away from the foot of it. Down there on the wall hung the Mirror of Truth and since his guests were unexpected, Hades hadn’t had the time to cover it. He did not want either of them gazing into it without warning.
Eating or drinking anything of the Underworld was an instant sentence to eternity. If a living being took so much as a single bite or a single sip, they could never leave here. “Nice try, Uncle,” Ares returned as he took a seat at the table, unaware that he was being herded to this end. “I’ll pass.”
“Just trying to be a good host,” Hades chimed again but his humor was lost on his relatives. Satisfied that both of them sat with their backs to the Mirror of truth, Hades turned serious. “What is it? Why are the two of you here?”
“Is Hephaestus here?”
Hades leaned back in his chair and looked at his Brother with a keen eye. “You’ve asked me that before, the answer is still ‘no’.”
“Are you sure?” Ares sneered and threw the new set of Chains onto Hades’ table. “Need to know where these came from.”
“Are those?” Hades picked up the shackles. “Where did you…what?”
“Seems at some point, Hephaestus forged another set of Chains. The ones that ended up in Cernunnos’ hands.”
“Interesting,” Hades pondered as he put the Chains down.
“Are you sure he didn’t, I don’t know, sort of slip in at some time?” Zeus inquired.
“Are you questioning my record keeping?” Hades asked indignantly. “I’ll have you know I keep excellent records, Brother. He’s not here.”
“Well if he’s not here and no one can find him up there then where the hell is he?” Ares growled.
Hades looked from his Brother to his Nephew as he cleared his throat and leaned across the table. “You mean neither of you two geniuses thought that, if he’s not here, and he’s not there, then maybe Cernunnos captured Hephaestus’ soul as well? Just as he appears to have done with Artemis?”
Ares and Zeus, momentarily stunned into silence, stared at each other.
“I see you’re too busy being suspicious of each other—probably with every right—to t
hink along these lines.”
Zeus let out a sigh. “Hades is right; this infighting will get us nowhere.” One or both of them should have come up with this idea much sooner. “But just humor me, Hades. Check your book.”
“For more than just Hephaestus,” Ares added. “If in this you’re right then my Brother and Sister are not the only souls Cernunnos has captured.”
“Now you’re thinking like a Warrior,” Hades chimed and clapped his hands together loudly. “Bring me the book!” he bellowed.
A few moments later, a gnome with a very large nose and hunchback appeared in the doorway with a large tome in his hands. It was so heavy the ancient creature could barely lift it, let alone carry it. Slowly he dragged himself and the book to Hades at the head of the table. “Here, my Lord,” the little creature rasped.
“Thank you, Steffaro. You may go.” Hades took the book from his aged hands and plopped it down on the table with a heavy thud. He began to thumb through it. This ancient book recorded the name, arrival date, and time of every soul that ever crossed the River Styx since the beginning of Time. It took him quite a while to scan through it; as he did Zeus and Ares sat impatiently at the table. The journey was long and the air down here was so nasty each of the visitors would give nearly anything for a cold drink to wash the taste out of their throats. One must not eat or drink of anything born here in the Underworld lest they become inhabitants here. With sad wonder Hades looked up and made his announcement. “Not many of them are here with me, not nearly as many as there should be.” Everything that was born died one day; that fact was inescapable, and it extended to those who were called Gods or Wizards or Sorcerers or whatever the mortals dreamed up.
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