Blinding Night

by Chantal Gadoury

  “Go on. What were you going to say?”

  “I’m going to go to my room now,” I replied firmly.

  “Let me come with you,” he urged.

  I wanted to him to come to my room. He was eager and I was hungry for his affection—though I hardly wanted to admit that to him or myself. More than anything though, I desperately wanted to be the woman he saw—the woman I had seen in my mind. But I knew I could never be her. She and I were so vastly different.

  We always would be.

  “I don’t trust myself,” I admitted. Maybe it was the wrong thing to say, because his lips curled into a small, amused smile.

  “I’ll take care of you,” he opened the door of the library and gestured towards my room across the hall, “After you.”

  My legs trembled with each step I took. What was I going to do once he was in my room? Was he going to gather me into his arms again and kiss me? Was he going to stay with me the rest of the day? As soon as I closed the door of my bedroom behind me, and turned on the tips of my toes, I found Darce sitting on the corner of my bed.

  “Now what?” I asked. He crossed his arms across his chest, his expression thoughtful.

  “What do you like to do on your own?”

  “You mean when I’m not dragged down to the Underworld with a living, breathing Greek God?”

  “Exactly,” he chuckled.

  I gestured to my bag full of paints and brushes tucked into the corner of the room. By now it had probably gathered a fine layer of dust. It wasn’t often that I left my art supplies untouched.

  “I paint. Or I do photography.”

  “I’ve seen your photos, but not your paintings.”

  I shrugged as I rubbed a hand over my arm. It felt so personal to share those private things about myself with him. As if I’d expose a true part of my soul to him. As I turned my gaze back to him, I found him staring and smiling.

  “Paint me.”

  I snorted.

  “Paint you?”

  Darce chuckled and nodded. “Yes, paint me. Is that such a ridiculous request?”

  In my mind it seemed like the most ludicrous thing ever. I couldn’t imagine ever taking the painting back to the human world, back to my college and explaining to an art professor it was a true portrait of the ‘God of the Underworld.’ But I also figured I’d never return to my college; I’d never have to worry about another art assignment again.

  Darce straightened his posture as he tipped his chin upward with a mocking smile.

  “How can you resist this face?”

  Not easily. But I wasn't about to admit that. I sighed and took a step towards him, reaching out to adjust his shirt and the crooked collar. Gently, I swept the bit of hair from his forehead, putting it back into place. His skin was soft and warm. His eyes stared into mine as he smiled gently.

  I suddenly had the strange feeling I had been here before—in this very moment. Which was entirely impossible.

  “Just sit still,” I commanded and quickly turned away.

  I crossed the room for my bag and began to pull the supply of paints out for easy accessibility. As I gathered a few paint brushes, and my art palette, I realized I would need water for cleaning. I lifted a finger to him, motioning for him to stay as I slipped from my room and walked across the hall to the large bathroom. I was grateful to find a small pitcher beside the enormous tub in the center of the room. It would do. I turned one of the handles and filled it with the water I needed.

  Back in the room, Darce was standing and paging through one of my sketch pads.

  “W-What are you doing?” I asked, nearly dropping the water. He turned and lifted the stash of paper with his hand.

  “I couldn’t help myself, I apologize.”

  I felt conflicted; while I hadn’t wanted to share my work with him—or anyone for that matter who wasn’t a professor—I felt a thrilling sense of acceptance. He liked my work. I bit my lip as I drew closer, getting a better glance at what he had found.

  “You’re talented,” he said. “Just like before.”

  His words felt like a punch in the gut. He wasn’t talking about my photography. I hadn’t been the only talented one. She had been too. Maybe my talent had never truly been mine to begin with. Nothing was mine. Not my art, not my family, not even... him. I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how. Instead I lowered the pitcher to the floor, and cleared my throat. I held out my hand to him, glancing at him expectantly for my sketch pad. He slowly lowered it onto my palm.

  “It’s unreal how alike you are...and you don’t even realize it.”

  “As you like to remind every day,” I sighed.

  “I wonder how much longer it will take for you to see the things that I do. The things that others—”

  “Do you want to be painted, or not?” I interjected, not wanting to hear anymore.

  I was already beginning to feel as though I was no longer a person; merely a shell that was occupied silently by another soul. My body was not my own; I guess it never had been mine in the first place.

  Darce sat down on the edge of the bed again. I moved to the floor and surrounded myself with my paints, the water and a fresh clean sheet of paper from my sketch book. It would have to do. Then, just as I was setting up my make-do canvas, Darce tugged his shirt over his head and folded it neatly beside him.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, feeling my cheeks warm. Why was he taking off of his clothes?

  “Isn’t this what models do?”

  “Not all models,” I retorted, keeping my eyes to the sketchbook in my lap.

  “I can’t be the first man you’ve seen half naked,” he teased. While that might have been true, this was different. It was so different from seeing boys at the swimming pool, or my dad mowing the lawn during a humid, hot summer’s day. He was different.

  I decided to take a peek, and was met by his amused smirk.

  “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

  “I’m not,” I replied sharply, picking up a paint brush.

  Everything about him was beautiful. His stomach was toned with perfectly shaped abs. The sort of abs girls ogled over in magazine ads. It was odd to think this beautiful man—God—had kissed me. Me. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, forcefully pushing those thoughts from my mind. I would be a professional. After all, if I wanted to be a real painter, I’d have to get over my ridiculous shyness over male anatomy. I’d have to get over my shyness towards him.

  “Do you want me to keep the pants on?”

  I glared at Darce hotly. He chuckled.

  “At least now you’re looking at me.”

  “Hardy har,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “So, how long have you painted?” Darce asked as I dipped my brush lightly into the water. I observed my palette carefully, finally settling on a soft peach color.

  I shrugged, keeping my eyes glued to my paper. “A while.”

  “As in a long time? Or recently?”

  “I’m pretty sure a while means a handful of years.”

  He pursed his lips and raised a brow.

  “You have to stay still,” I commanded. As soon as his features relaxed again, I began to move my brush over the paper. I knew this would be far from perfect, and far from anything Persephone had ever sketched. The image of her drawing had been burned into my mind.

  “What did your father do?” Darce’s voice broke the short-lived silence. I gazed at the curve of his cheek and nose a bit longer before I reached his eyes again.

  “He was an archaeologist,” I replied. “He was working with the National Geographic in Greece.”

  Maybe he didn’t know what the National Geographic was. I couldn’t imagine a Greek god cared about a human’s need for historical preservation.

  “And your mother—”

  “She did the same thing. But mostly stayed home and took care of me.”

  Darce nodded with a soft chuckle. “As I expected.”

  “Why?” I asked as I tried to focus on my pa
inting before me.

  “She is Demeter after all.”

  I didn’t respond. It was hard to wrap my mind around the fact that my mother still wasn’t at all who I thought she was. Dad and I had been lied to. And maybe even I had lied to my dad without knowing.

  “Did Persephone like going back to her—to Demeter?”

  “I recall the first time she left, there was a sort of relief. I supposed it was in returning back to her world of sunshine and nature. The things she loved. The things I could only partially supply to her at the grove.”

  “But afterwards?”

  “As more time transpired, Persephone seemed to crave her own independence. And she had that here.”

  “And what happened when she didn’t come back? Did you go to Demeter? To Zeus?”

  Darce sucked in a breath and nodded.

  “I did. I went to Mount Olympus looking for her. I was too late though. Demeter had already disappeared with Persephone,” he paused, “Gone without a trace.”

  “A Goddess can’t just disappear, can she?”

  “A Goddess can do whatever she wishes, as long as her role isn’t neglected.”

  “And Zeus—the others? They wouldn’t help you?”

  Darce let out a huff and shook his head. “Help me? I had broken a fundamental rule in their eyes. I had stolen, no—kidnapped—the daughter of a Goddess. I took a bride of my own without the permission of the others.”

  “You have to ask?”

  “Apparently so,” he said with a sigh. “I’m sure if it were any other, things would have been different. But Demeter...”

  He grew ominously quiet, and I lowered my brush from the painting. I wanted to remember something for him so badly in that moment. I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut and see everything that had happened. I wanted to reunite him with her—with that hidden part of myself that I hadn’t discovered yet. Just to give him some peace; some closure.

  Where are you? He needs you...not me.

  “It doesn’t seem fair,” I replied.

  “Nothing is fair, Summer. Even here, in our realm. Nothing is easy.”

  “And yet you haven’t given up,” I whispered.

  “No,” he replied. “That would be easy if I did, wouldn’t it?”

  I shrugged slowly. Darce scooted closer to me, while remaining on the side of the bed.

  “I’d be a fool to give up now. Especially when she’s right in front of me. Just within my reach.”

  I bit my bottom lip and watched as he rose to his feet.

  “Let’s leave the painting here for now. I should go check on the others.” And Minthe, naturally.

  He gave me only a nod as he slid his shirt back over his head and turned towards the door.

  “Will I see you for dinner?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder.

  “Yes, Darce. I’ll see you at dinner,” I replied solemnly. His gaze held mine a bit longer, as though he were speaking without words. His eyes were full of a deep sorrow; a sorrow he had collected over these many centuries. Morpheus had been right; the grief had taken its toll. I could feel it spilling through the crags of his feigned smiles.

  I couldn’t let Darce down now. I pushed the sketching pad off of my lap as soon as the door shut behind him. I needed to find Morpheus. I needed answers. And I knew only his dreams would be the key to my remembering the past.

  I didn’t know where Morpheus stayed in the winding hallways of the Underworld. I hadn’t ever bothered to ask him. But I was eager to find him. I had to find him. I searched through the familiar, grand halls leading to the dining room, and the docks.

  I only wished I had pressed him about it sooner, as in earlier that morning.

  “Where are you?” I hissed under my breath as I stared out over the vast, darkened river. He always seemed to appear when I least expected him to, but now that I needed him. Now that I knew he could help me...

  “Who are you looking for?” A voice asked from behind in the large foyer of the Versailles hallway. Thanatos peered at me curiously with his silver gaze. He was dressed differently from breakfast, wearing a black tunic with gold, translucent threading. His long black hair was pinned back with a silver ivory-leaf clamp.

  “Morpheus,” I answered quickly. “Have you seen him?”

  “Not since this morning,” he replied with a lazy shrug. “Not since you disappeared with him.”

  Thanatos raised a brow curiously as he took a step forward.

  “Which, I’m sure he was anxious to hear about your outing with my Lord.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked, crossing my arms against my chest.

  “Why do you need Morpheus?” Thanatos asked instead, echoing my movements with his arms. “We don’t have time to tend to your every single mortal needs.”

  “It has nothing to do with my needs,” I retorted. “It’s for Darce.”

  He pursed his lips.

  “What about his lordship?”

  I decided to tell the truth. If anything, he’d believe me, and get me to Morpheus faster.

  “Darce can’t give up the Underworld,” I whispered, shaking my head. “He can’t. Not for me. Not for Persephone either.”

  “What makes you think—”

  A hand brushed along on my shoulder. I turned quickly, finding Morpheus behind me. His dark eyes met mine as he tucked a strand of his long, silver hair over his shoulder. His black wings were folded tightly against his back, as if hiding.

  “This isn’t about just Persephone anymore,” Morpheus responded sternly as he looked between the two of us. “I’ll take it from here.”

  He gave a curt nod to Thanatos. The God of Death nodded in return and carefully turned back the way he came. It was a quick dismissal. I was actually surprised he didn’t have anything smart to say. Something that would allude to our frequent ‘alone time.’

  Morpheus took my hand and gently pulled me down a different hall—one that I was not familiar with. I wondered if this was his wing of the palace. It made sense, seeing as I hadn’t ever been down that way.

  “I was looking for you,” I explained quickly. “I need you to help me.”

  “And so you have. It seems to me that you always need some sort of help.”

  “I have to remember... and you—” my nerves were on edge as I tried to get the words out “—your dreams. You could give me the sight to see with your dreams.”

  Morpheus stopped in front of a large, darkened door and watched me carefully. His lips remained thin and firm, pressed together, as if he would not allow himself to let anymore secrets go. He dropped his eyes away from mine, considering carefully. I tried to be patient with him; I knew it was a difficult request.

  I was basically asking him to tap into my latent memories.

  “You want to see the truth?”

  I nodded. “I do, Morpheus. Will you help me?”

  “You are aware there could be consequences of this knowledge, yes? If Minthe hears about this—she’ll report to Zeus and the others on Mount Olympus. Hermes will be sent to fetch you and there won’t be anything we can do to prevent your mother from taking you back.”

  “Let him,” I said angrily, “I’d rather hand myself over than allow anything to happen to you, to the Underworld—to Darce.”

  “The last thing we need is you sacrificing yourself.”

  “Why? I have less to lose than any of you do,” I said.

  “We all have something to lose, Summer,” Morpheus murmured. “The loss of you would be great. More than you realize.”

  It didn’t matter. I was sitting in the corner of a dark room with one light on. There were shadows in there looking for release. They had been pushing at my mind lately, begging to be let out. I had to know them, I had to see what was lurking inside my head.

  “Show me then. Show me the things I can’t remember. Show me who they were—the others—the ones who came before me. If I could see... if I could just understand,” I urged as I took his hands in mine, “I know you can show me. You c
an gift dreams, so gift me their memories.”

  Morpheus stared at me hard.

  “Are you sure you want me to show you?”

  “Yes,” I said, nodding eagerly. “Please…please.”

  Morpheus sighed as the corner of his lips twitched and he lifted his hand to the door knob.

  “Alright. I’ll help you... but you may not like what you see.”

  Chapter 24

  “Take a seat,” Morpheus said, gesturing to his large, sleek bed. The sheets were a shade of off-white and grey. The rest of the room remained simple and clean—far from the darkened, shadowy room I had envisioned. He and his whole aesthetic belonged in a cologne commercial for men.

  I followed his firm command and sat on the comforter. He carefully plucked another black feather from his wingspan and approached the bed. The dreams would occur just as they had in the beginning.

  “Lie back,” he said softly. My nerves were jumping, too excited to be still, but I took a deep, calming breath as I leaned back. “Now try to relax.”

  Easier said than done, I thought.

  I heard the sound of his fingers snap, and then the room grew dimmer, as if the candles were no longer burning as brightly.

  “Close your eyes,” he whispered.

  The softness of the feather tickled my cheek as he traced it along my skin. Strangely enough, it reminded me of something straight out of 50 Shades of Grey. I peeked a glance at Morpheus, being sure he was still wearing clothes. His black gaze caught me and he flicked his finger over my nose.

  “I said close your eyes.”

  “I was just making sure you weren’t up to any funny business.” Now it just sounded stupid. Even more so coming out of my mouth. Morpheus snorted and slid his fingers over my eyes.

  “Trust me.”

  I did trust him. I wasn’t sure how or when I had decided to, but my gut led me to believe I could. The feather continued its careful trail along my skin, finally swirling around my closed eyes. My body suddenly felt relaxed—calm. I was almost sure I would fall asleep.