“At least with mortals the rebellious stage only lasts a couple years. With godlings, it can be centuries.”
“Gods, woman. Don’t remind me. I’ve petitioned Zeus to give her ambrosia.”
“It’s hard to imagine you as a father.” She cocked her head to the side, trying to picture it.
“And yet, I’ve done it so many times.”
“At least you support all of your children.” She frowned thinking of Zeus.
“I was determined not to be my dad.” He seemed to know the train of her thoughts.
Apollo held the door for her as they stepped out into the Greek night. “I guess I don’t have a kid at my temple anymore. Want to go be old and have a quiet night with a flick and some ambrosia wine while we sit up and wait for my daughter who I know won’t be home until tomorrow?”
Nyx smiled. That actually sounded like a much better time to her than clubbing anyway. “Yeah. It sounds fun, actually. I still get to drive the chariot, though, right?”
“Why is it all women want to drive my chariot?”
“We’re all car hos at heart.”
“You’ve got a saucy mouth.”
“All the better to—,” she broke off. Nyx had no idea where she was going with that, but was sure she didn’t want to find out.
“All the better to what, my dear? I’d like to know.” He grinned suggestively.
“I’m sure you would.” She smirked.
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“Nope.” Nyx shook her head.
“We’ll just have to see about that,” he promised and stroked his hand down her spine as he pulled her close to teleport.
DEMETER
Demeter thought it funny how the granules through the hourglass of eternity slowed to a sickly crawl when one marked them off with misery. She’d always thought there’d never be enough time. She didn’t know how the mortals stood it—learning from birth they would have an end and careening closer to it every day.
She’d hidden from Death for so long, now it seemed she’d have to invite him in. Demeter wished she’d met him before Love, that these memories weren’t so stark and ambulatory. A movie that played over and over again in black and white. Regret was a word she’d vowed never to learn, yet here it was ashen and bitter on the tip of her tongue.
Demeter regretted not only singular moments, but every choice she’d made. They were all wrong and she didn’t know how to fix them before her time was up and she didn’t want to correct them only for herself. She’d done Persephone a great wrong.
She hadn’t seen her in days and Demeter hoped she’d gone back to Hades. Hoped that she’d found something beautiful that would sustain her in the long dark. More than that, she didn’t want to leave Persephone alone and unprotected in the world. By keeping her cloistered and innocent of everything, she’d never really lived yet either.
What would happen to Persephone without the fear of Demeter’s wintry wrath to ward off those who would hurt her? She’d be alone.
The word echoed hollow in her ears and settled in a dead weight on her stomach. Alone. The last place Demeter wanted to be. Once upon a time, Demeter had dreamed quiet dreams of green and growing things; she’d heard the voices of these tiny lives all around her. They’d sung to her songs of joy and rebirth. Until she’d brought the winter in her heart with her fear.
“Spring is never an easy time, rebirth never gentle,” Eros spoke softly as he materialized in the garden chair next to her.
Love was to be found in the strangest of places, or so she’d always heard. She’d never been so happy to see him or so distraught at the same time.
“I don’t remember inviting you back, Eros.”
“That is the nature of Love, is it not? To come unbidden?”
“I suppose it is. Does that mean when I need you most, you’ll be nowhere to be found?” Demeter wouldn’t turn her head to look at him.
“I’m always here, Demeter. Whenever you need anything, whether you know your need or not.”
“I gave Persephone your quiver.”
“She called,” he acknowledged.
“I told her to give it to you,” she replied, sullen.
“She told me to come and get it.”
“I’m sure she did. She thinks she’s helping.”
“Isn’t she?”
“How? By throwing us together? There’s only one way this can end, Eros.”
“And how do you know this? Are you Fate now, to tell us all what paths we’ll take?”
“I know how it will end because it’s time for my end. Don’t you understand?”
“Then why don’t you want to spend the time in joy and happiness? Because you don’t deserve it? Again, are you Fate to make that choice?” Eros asked her quietly.
“Why should I be happy when my daughter will be frightened and alone? When I took the one god from her who loved her?”
“You overestimate your power, Demeter. Hades isn’t the only god who will love her. I love her.”
“Do you love her as a god, or as a friend?” Demeter asked.
“You know very well the answer to that, Demeter. But if she needs me, she knows how to ask me for help. She’s done it before.”
“Tell me then, will Hades love her? Surely that is within your sight.”
“Hades has loved her and loved her well. He let her go. As to what he feels now, no, I cannot see. His heart has been torn from his chest. But her path is not with him.”
“Then where is it?” She finally turned to look at him and he wore a mask of quiet sorrow.
“She will walk with Death, Demeter. Into the long dark, but she will not be cold. She will not be alone. He will hold her tenderly.”
“She’ll die, then.” Demeter couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her tone.
“No,” he shook his head. “She won’t. Death’s love becomes her in the fading dawn, the birds will sing and flowers will bloom in her step and he will love her well. But only if you allow her to become what she was meant to be.”
Tears streaked down her face, for Demeter knew this to be her redemption. Persephone would only become the Goddess of the Spring when Demeter let go of her power—when she laid down her breath and surrendered. It was the only way to make sure her daughter would be safe and finally, after all of these long years, Demeter had been granted a second chance to be a good mother. To love her child more than she loved herself.
And such was the way of the mother and the earth, the old god dies and the new one is reborn. The lifecycle of the seasons and all things green and growing.
Snowdrops bloomed at her feet where her tears fell and Eros took her hand in his own, a tender gesture.
“Do you see, Demeter? Will you let me hold you now?”
“I’m afraid, Eros.”
“I know.” He lifted her easily and gathered her to him.
He didn’t tell her not to be afraid, but it was okay somehow. The way he held her in his arms was comfort enough and more than she deserved. She loved the way he smelled, of summer and bright things. His scent brought to mind sweet simplicity, uncomplicated purity. She remembered being a child and picking flowers in Elysium, she remembered when she first discovered she could make them grow.
There’d been fields upon fields of flowers growing as they would, all hungry for the power she held—the elixir of life she could share with only her will. She’d been so eager to share it then, to blanket the world in abundance. The trees and vines grew heavy with fruits and the roots grew large and strong deep in the ground.
She should have done that for Persephone.
“Demeter, go back to that place you were. The place with the sun and the ripe berries,” Eros commanded her.
She couldn’t find it again though; it had slipped through her fingers like the crumbled petals of a dried rose.
“Open your eyes. Look at what you’ve wrought in your joy, yet again.”
Demeter looked and saw the fields behind her temple burstin
g with life. Things she’d had to wring like water from a desert out of her power these last years now flowed freely.
“It’s you. It was your scent, Eros. You wrought this, not me.”
“This came from you. From your love. Remember what I said to you and the prophecy? Love will save you, Demeter.”
“Will you?”
“Not me, though I would if I could. The love inside of yourself.”
“I have none.”
Eros stroked her hair. “Then just let me hold you.”
“You can do whatever you like, only…” she bit her lip.
“I’ll grant you whatever is in my power, but I can’t do it unless you ask.”
“Stay with me?” Demeter asked in a small voice.
“Always.”
“When it’s time,” she clarified. It was selfish, but she wanted him to hold her hand. Demeter knew she’d have to go into that final dark by herself, but it would be nice to have his warmth to see her off.
“Yes.”
“You promise so easily.” Did he know what he was promising? If he did, could he really love her as he professed? How did one let go of someone they loved? She didn’t understand.
“I love you. I’d never let you face this alone. Pain is transient, but the impressions of love stay with us into the Elysian Fields and even Tartarus.”
“How easily you speak of love and death.” She sighed and rested her cheek on his shoulder. “If I could love, Eros, I would want to love you.”
He didn’t speak and he didn’t need to. Demeter knew he could see into her heart and for once, she was thankful. She could never express the fountains of sorrow or the raindrops of joy—the darkness and the light that warred within her. Eros could see it all. She almost believed he loved her despite it all. It was a beautiful fantasy and she’d waltz with it into the twilight of her existence.
Demeter wanted to give him something, but she had nothing to offer but herself. “Eros?”
He didn’t speak but dragged his cheek along her hair.
“Do you still want to…” she trailed off. Demeter had been going to ask him if he wanted to fuck her, but she knew he didn’t. He wanted to love her. “Make love to me?” She felt stupid saying it that way; she didn’t think anyone said things like that anymore.
Eros cupped her cheek as he carried her inside the temple and stroked his thumb over her bottom lip.
“More than my next breath.” He kissed her then, with those honeyed words on his lips and they were sweet.
He tasted not of saccharine lies, but of truth and the poetry that had been tattooed on his soul. For a moment, Demeter felt as if letting him kiss her would tarnish all of that beauty he had inside of him, but wave after wave of something warm washed over her. It was endless and eternal, a never-ending sea; it sparkled with everything that made Eros who and what he was. It was his power, his mantle.
It was Love.
In its purest form and inexhaustible, it filled her. He trailed it over her skin with his lips, sparked it inside of her with his hands and while it was like lava; molten and gold, it didn’t burn. It made her feel strong and it bathed her in an innocence she thought she’d never touch again.
“Eros?”
“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured against her lips.
And she wasn’t.
Demeter opened herself to him and allowed all that he wanted to give her to come rushing in. It was tsunami, an earthquake and an apocalypse. It was vast and sharp, but it cut her strategically. It lanced the darkness and the misery; bared her wounds and tore them open.
But it eased her pain too in a sweet balm.
Her knees were weak and Demeter couldn’t stand on her own when Eros shifted her so that her feet were on the cherry wood planks of her temple.
“I don’t want to be here anymore.”
“Where do you want to be?” Eros asked as his mouth fastened to the curve of her neck.
“Somewhere else. Not Olympus. Not this temple where so many dark thoughts have moldered and infected the walls. Somewhere in the world. Make love to me on a beach at sunset, in a gondola in Venice, the top of the Eiffel Tower, or maybe even the moon. I’d like to see earthrise.”
They were suddenly in a gondola that steered itself down the canals of Venice and the full moon hung round and gravid in the dark sky, the stars splashed across the velvet pitch like glitter.
Her back was against his chest and her cheek was close to his. Her arm was draped around the back of his neck and his fingers stroked down the sensitive skin of her inner arm. Every touch was a benediction and this time, she didn’t want to fight it.
HERA
Hera wrinkled her nose. “Really? What a centaurhole. Yeah and then to ask you to call his wife? Dick move.” She snorted with another laugh. “No, I have no idea what’s wrong with him. He what? WHAT? I’m coming.” She snapped her phone off, but stayed put. Partly because she wasn’t hurrying anywhere under Zeus’ command and partly because she wasn’t sure if she could move. Hera hadn’t been able to sit correctly since she’d started this mad affair with Hades. On the one hand, she loved it, or the other, it was hard to keep her feelings compartmentalized.
On second thought, that was a lie. They weren’t compartmentalized. She had feelings for Hades, regardless of what was happening between them or what he felt. She simply had to accept that and get on with the business of living. Hera couldn’t change anything either of them felt; she could only control how she reacted to it.
“What’s happened?” he asked, pushing a damp lock of hair behind her ear.
She leaned into the touch, wanting more of it and less of the rest of the world that would take a sledgehammer to the foundations of their idyll. “Zeus. He’s had some sort of episode at Abstinence’s temple.”
“What kind of episode?” Hades wore a look of concern.
“He passed out and turned all flaky. I guess he didn’t drink his ambrosia. Now, he expects me to come haul his ass home and tend him like a loving wife. It’s not that big a deal.”
“No, Hera. It is a big deal. I’m afraid you do have to help him.”
“Why? I mean, I will help him, but it’ll be on my schedule, damn it.” She wanted to roll over and pull the blankets up over her head.
“Do you want him to die?” he asked quietly.
“He can’t die.” Was that even an option?
“He can. And if you don’t help him, he will.”
How come this was the first she’d heard of this? Hera wanted to say that she didn’t care—that he had it coming for treating her so badly and making her feel like shit. For all of the mortals and gods he’d punished because he didn’t get his way.
“Ye—no.” She slumped down further in the bed. “How do you know what’s wrong with him anyway?”
“I can’t believe he didn’t tell you this. You’ve been married for an eon.”
“Tell me what?” she almost screeched.
“It’s his secret to tell you, Hera. Although, the irony today will amuse you to no end, I’m sure.” Hades smirked at her and moved to dress.
“What are you doing?”
“Coming with you of course.”
“Why?”
“Been doing it all day, why stop now?” He eyed her lasciviously and she felt his appraisal in the throbbing between her thighs.
“Stop that.” Hera shivered.
“Or what? You’ll fuck me again?”
“Yes! It’s gotten to be where I need it like I do ambrosia and taunting me with it doesn’t help.”
“Pleasure on par with ambrosia.” He made a big show of stopping to consider the possibilities. “That’s certainly something to be avoided.” Hades’ voice was silk over her skin and his long strides took him around the bed and he’d hauled her up against him. “Be a good goddess and get your delectable ass in gear and I promise when we get home, I’ll lick your ambrosia until you scream.”
His words made her need intensify, but it wasn’t only the promi
se of his tongue working her flesh until she came. He’d said home. When we get home. Hera knew she shouldn’t read so much into what he’d said, it was a word said casually. It meant little or nothing to him, so it shouldn’t mean anything to her either.
But it did.
The implications were they would go to see Zeus, to help him, but that Hera wasn’t going to stay where her ailing husband was. She was going to stay with Hades. Her god. Her future. This was their home and she wouldn’t lose it to Persephone, or anyone else.
She smiled brightly. “I’ll let you drive then.” Hera struggled into her clothes. “Wait, should we cleanse first?”
“No, definitely not.”
“You’re bad.”
“Actually, you’ll need it.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.” She narrowed her eyes, but before she could question him, he’d anchored her against him and they were standing in front of Abstinence’s door. “Damn it. You didn’t even let me do my hair.”
Abstinence opened the door, a panicked look on her face. “He’s in the front room.”
Hades stood straighter. “Death was here.”
“He was,” Abstinence acknowledged. “He came for me.”
“Okay, you need to tell me everything. These half-assed explanations are going to make me rip my hair out,” Hera grumbled.
She followed Abstinence into the front room and saw a pitiful figure—a skeleton prone in a pile of dust on the floor. He was emaciated and week, unable to move—his chest sunken and shriveled. There was nothing about him Hera found to be familiar except for the glacial blue of his eyes. Those were eyes she’d stared into for centuries, eyes that had seen all of the horror and pleasure the world had to offer. They were ancient and youthful both.
Zeus.
“What did you do to yourself, you ass?” Hera whispered almost tenderly. She sighed. “And then you told your would-be mistress to call your wife. Do you know how tacky that is?”
“Hera, you can ream his ass later if you so choose. Right now, you need to hold his hand,” Hades told her.
Hera wrinkled her nose. “Nuh-uh.”
“I will hold his hand.” Abstinence took the barely animated bones in her own tiny hand.
Desperate Housewives of Olympus Page 13
