Immortal's Spring (The Chrysomelia Stories)

by Molly Ringle

  Then the bride twirled to another partner, and another woman stepped in to take her place. Aphrodite.

  Uneasiness built in Hekate’s chest. The goddess of love wore a lightweight pale green gown that left one shoulder bare and afforded glimpses of her thigh and the edges of her breasts. Her black hair was pinned up in a loose knot of braids, starred with white hyacinths. She was fleshly and gossamer, earthy and ethereal, everything a man could want.

  She and Dionysos slipped both arms around each other, and tempered their dance steps to a more subdued form. Through their jeweled masks, their eyes were locked upon one another. Dionysos still smiled, but he had become quieter, and seemingly more serious.

  Hekate drew a breath, willing the air to crush the jealousy rising in her.

  Her will succeeded: the unhappiness soon faded to resignation. Aphrodite and Dionysos had a long history together. They would always mean something to one another, but he didn’t want to go back to her. He’d said so, and Hekate believed it. Besides, Hekate had told him he was welcome to cavort with Aphrodite, or anyone else at these festivals. Indeed, wasn’t Hekate supposed to do the same if she liked?

  Hermes glanced back at Dionysos too, then examined Hekate with careful eyes. She smiled dryly for him. If she did have her powers back, she would know what he was feeling through the touch of his skin. Pity? Amusement? Something else? He said nothing to give her any clue. He only kept dancing with her, observing each step and twirl with correctness. He seemed to be awaiting her word, or her actions.

  Actions. Indeed. A new possible activity for tonight occurred to her, thrilling her to her toes with its boldness.

  He’d already stolen a kiss tonight and invited her to retaliate. So she drew her face close and stole one back.

  Hermes paused only a moment, his feet finally faltering in the dance, then he slid into reciprocation, his mouth and arms caressing her.

  “My my,” he said. “What’s this for?”

  “I might as well do the same as the rest of the revelers.” She brushed another kiss onto his mouth.

  “Oh?” He indulged it, sliding his lips softly back and forth on hers. They had become hot despite the chilly air. “We aren’t showing up Aphrodite? Not that I’d mind.”

  “Not at all. I’m allowed. So is he.”

  “Mm. Well, in that case…”

  They both dismissed words, and sank into a hungrier, wetter kiss. The jewels and gold on their masks clinked against each other, which made them grin. To avoid colliding with other dancers they staggered, linked together, back to the clump of trees. Hekate drew him around to the opposite side, within the dark curve of tree trunks, hidden from view. She spun Hermes, placed his back against the largest trunk, and leaned against him, savoring the feel of someone else’s body, someone who wasn’t her lover. Yet.

  To a woman who, in this lifetime, had only been intimate with one man, gaining a new lover was a heady thought. She melted closer against him, getting to know his contours. She felt them with strange clarity, considering he’d been wearing a thick wool cloak all around him. She slid one hand down his front in curiosity, glancing down, and laughed: with his characteristic dexterity, he had slipped his cloak out of the way so his chest was now bare and only a thin linen tunic covered him below the waist. All without her noticing, and without interrupting their kisses.

  He nuzzled her jaw and neck. “Now where’s that snake you once threatened me with if I ever tried to kiss you?”

  “I was twelve. You remember that?”

  “Of course. You said you’d keep it in your clothes. I’m searching. Nothing so far.”

  She yelped, for he had gotten his hand inside her clothes without her knowing quite how. He stroked her lower back, skin on skin. His nimble fingers brushed down to the curve of her rear.

  “I’m beginning to see how you can steal anything off anyone.” She was becoming short of breath.

  He pulled her tighter against his hard body. “I can. Though some things I would never steal. They’re only enjoyable when freely given.”

  Her heart pounded as fast as the drums. She meant to throw back a piece of banter, but her hand treacherously distracted her by exploring the heat of his chest. Then he distracted her further by quick, light demonstrations of where he could slip his fingers unexpectedly—places ranging from semi-innocent to fully obscene. She was laughing and gasping at the same time. One of his tickling touches buckled her knees, and he fell with her to the ground. They sprawled together across their cloaks on the chilly hard roots and turf, in the darkness behind the trees, wrapped up in a horizontal dance of caresses, laughter, and wine-flavored kisses.

  Approaching. Someone approaching, someone she knew. Dionysos, and Aphrodite. Hermes lifted his head, surely sensing them too.

  Hekate teetered between shame at where her hand almost was, and impatience to get it there and see what it was like. But then, if Dionysos was looking for her, maybe it was a better idea to stop now. In fact, why was she doing this, exactly? To prove some point about non-exclusivity, which wasn’t necessary? She needed to stop and think a moment…

  “Hekate?”

  Dionysos wasn’t just looking for her. He was looking at her. Backlit by the festival torches, he peeked through a gap between tree trunks, Aphrodite looking over his shoulder.

  Hekate scrambled away from Hermes, who calmly whisked his cloak back over himself.

  “Hello, friend,” Hermes answered, still lounging on the ground. “How are the pair of you?”

  “Fine.” Dionysos sounded amused, if puzzled. “And the pair of you?”

  “Fine. Hello.” Hekate leaped to her feet, her face so heated with shame that she felt it must be incandescent. She stepped to the space in the tree trunks and smiled as innocently as she could.

  Dionysos only laughed. He glanced at the sprawling, mussed-up Hermes and then back to her. He reached through and straightened her mask. “You’re allowed to, you know. It’s all right.”

  Behind him, Aphrodite wore a serene, triumphant smile below her mask. For some reason it enraged Hekate. “No, we should go,” Hekate said. “I’m tired. Are you ready to go?”

  “No need to be rude to Hermes,” Dionysos said.

  “It’s all right.” Hermes rose and shook the leaf litter off his cloak with a snap of fabric. “I told her she could do anything she liked to me.”

  Without any clear idea of what had just happened, Hekate had no answer at hand. Especially with Aphrodite as audience to the scene. Hekate’s gaze flew from one man to the other. They were both difficult to read, what with the nocturnal darkness and the masks. “Thank you,” she said. “I—I’ve had a good time, but I’m ready to go for the night. If you’re ready. If—if it’s all right.”

  “Of course,” Dionysos said. “Anything you want.”

  Hermes walked with Hekate back around the trees to rejoin the party on the other side. He stepped up next to Aphrodite, who draped her arm around his waist. “Goodnight,” Hermes said cordially, to both Hekate and Dionysos, as a person would to a married couple.

  He hadn’t even given her one last secret grope as they came out from the trees. Hekate almost felt offended—or perhaps comforted?

  Hermes and Aphrodite walked away together, arms around one another, with every appearance of being about to indulge in their long-standing friends-with-intimacy arrangement. And did that make Hekate feel relieved, or jealous? Tonight was turning out very confusing. How did people do these things so casually at these festivals?

  She and Dionysos switched realms and returned again to their room in Athena’s palace.

  They said nothing until they had built a fire in the hearth, removed their masks, and were undressing for bed.

  Then Dionysos spoke. “Hermes. Really?”

  “He was convenient. And I can trust him.”

  Dionysos smirked.

  “What?” Hekate said.

  “Nothing. It’s only, Hermes being trustworthy. That isn’t something I hear often.�
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  “He won’t try to kill me. Let’s put it that way.”

  “No, I know what you mean.” He poured wine into a silver cup, and drank some. “But I suppose there’s also…” He tilted the cup from side to side, watching the wine slosh around. “Well, I don’t know for sure, but I suspect he slept with one or both of your parents. A long time ago, before they had you.”

  Hekate snorted. “So? Back when you were Aphrodite’s teenaged lover, you and my mother fondled each other for ‘educational purposes.’”

  “Hardly at all.”

  “Still, I manage to live with it. Mind you, I do try not to think of it. Ever.”

  “A different lifetime.” He drank more of his wine. “I’ve since been reborn, thanks to you.” He lifted the cup to her in tribute.

  “When people are going to live extra-long lives, they may simply have to be forgiven the extra-high number of lovers they might accumulate in that time.”

  “Fair enough. And nearly everyone living is one of Hermes’ lovers, so there’s nothing unusual in that.”

  “Indeed,” she answered, trying to sound as mild as he did. But dismay slinked around her, coating her with its residue. How sordidly she’d behaved, how truly unremarkable she must have seemed to Hermes, who ran through lovers like most people ran through food.

  The Dionysia and its dirty details usually did become memories its revelers tried to forget or disregard for the rest of the year. Having acquired such an experience, perhaps now Hekate was truly one of the people. She smiled in wry acceptance, and borrowed Dionysos’ wine cup to take a swig.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sophie curled up on her side in the large, empty bed in the Underworld. The blankets took a while every night to warm up when you didn’t have a bedmate. Their dog Rosie usually slept at Liam’s feet, across the room on his mattress, so he got the benefit of dog warmth while Sophie got the supposed benefit of the nicer bed. Usually it was no nicer at all; just chilly and lonely.

  Tonight, though, she held her phone in her cupped hands, her cheek on the pillow, and gazed at the photos she’d taken of her transplanted spring bulbs. She had safely flown the crocus, bluebell, and snowdrop sprouts across the Atlantic, and given them a new home in the sunless but magic-rich soil of the Underworld. She found her parents in the fields and brought them over to look. They were delighted, and praised her for such a sweet idea—bringing their own flowers here to grow.

  Thanks to those little green spikes, this was the first time she had visited the site of their house and not lapsed into a panic attack. The four times they’d been there up till now, she had trembled and felt nauseated, and fled as soon as possible. But today, with new life and garden dirt in her hands, she’d been able to gaze upon the ruins with sorrow but composure.

  She whisked away the flower-bulb photos for a minute and called up the list of triggers. She highlighted “visiting the house” and selected “strikethrough” in the font options. A horizontal line slashed through the text.

  There. One down at last. A victory.

  Satisfied, she brought up the photos again. She had taken only twelve bulbs, leaving several back in their garden in Carnation to continue growing and spreading. Down here she had planted them at the foot of Adrian’s titoki tree, where perhaps they’d open in colors they’d never worn before, and of course they might develop magical properties. Always a good chance of that in the Underworld.

  Sophie considered texting one of the photos to Adrian, but hesitated. He might wonder what message she was trying to send, and honestly she wasn’t sure what the message might be, other than, Here’s something I’m trying, to claw my way back up from this pit of trauma. And how would that be any use to him?

  So she sent nothing. Still, the photos held her attention a long while, and finally calmed her into turning off the phone and shutting her eyes.

  She rested her hand on the empty half of the bed where Adrian had lain beside her so often in happier days. Maybe when those flowers bloomed, she’d be ready to invite him back into the bed.

  The thought surprised her, but she kept her eyes shut, still sleepy. She spread her fingers on the cool sheet, and sent a message to him through the Goddess, or the Fates, or the mysterious magnetic currents that drew them to one another life after life; whatever was out there that might connect them. Please be careful. Please stay alive. Don’t despair. I’m trying to come back to life for you.

  There was another method to try. The memories were there, waiting for her to resume them. Life did go on—had gone on—for Persephone’s soul. Maybe, then, rather than knocking Sophie further askew, opening up those memories would restore her balance.

  Sophie turned the latch in the heavy door she had mentally installed lately between her mind and the ancient lives. She pulled the door open, and felt the vastness of time and life on its other side surrounding her like a rush of cool air.

  For quite a while in Persephone’s afterlife there was nothing but wandering the fields as a soul with Hades, and being visited by their living daughter, Hekate and others. Sophie twitched in pain at stepping back into that mindset—a parent lately dead, like her own mother and father, complete with a grieving daughter. But she pushed the memories forward faster, scanning them, and to her relief and surprise, the grief dwindled. It lost its original rawness, in any case. For Hekate it gradually tempered to acceptance, and a return to the living world, with stronger-than-ever resolve to spread the truth about the immortals and fight Thanatos. For Persephone and Hades, their muted sadness soon became pride in their daughter, and gratitude that their powerful friends lived on and sought to avenge them.

  And if Persephone fretted a little about Hekate’s ongoing relationship with Dionysos, who surely wasn’t the best match for her even though he was a good man—well, worries like that were far easier to take than worries about Thanatos.

  Did this mean she should caution Zoe and Tab against getting together as a couple?, Sophie wondered drowsily. Or did it not really matter who hooked up with whom in old times versus modern days? After all, now that she got to this part, she was identifying more with Hekate, the daughter whose parents had been killed, than she was with her own soul. Strange…life was strange.

  Sophie fell asleep, her hand still spread upon the empty half of the bed.

  ***

  Nikolaos plunked down next to Zoe, who was once again hunched over her computer on the mountainside in the winter sun. She glanced at him, then back at the screen. Following those memories further along in Hekate’s life had led her onto some quite awkward ones, hadn’t it? Pashing with Hermes at the Dionysia! Again! This time in actual crazy lust, not merely as a trick to snare Dionysos. And his sneaky fingers down her top and around her bum and right up in—oh, she couldn’t even bear to think of it.

  “Are you blushing?” Niko asked.

  She scrolled through the email on her screen. “Am I?”

  “Did I interrupt you in porn-surfing?”

  “Oh yeah, naturally.”

  He nudged her. “Or…please tell me you’ve reached certain memories.”

  She pressed her lips together, and continued scrutinizing the email. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You can’t pretend I’m not a good kisser. I’ve asked you between lives, when you couldn’t lie, and you said I was. Besides, I was trained by Aphrodite, so of course I was excellent.”

  The shameless boast made Zoe laugh. “Fine, but whatever, there’s not that much to discuss, right? A minute or two of pashing. So what.”

  “Riiiight,” he said, so deadpan that Zoe knew there must be even more of such kinkiness in Hekate’s future.

  Jeez. Fantastic.

  She cleared her throat and tried a slight topic shift. “No, I was more thinking about, you know, all this awkwardness with Tab.”

  “Oh? Looked like it was going slick enough for you two the other day.”

  “Yeah nah, I don’t know.” She squinted at him. “Were you really try
ing to match us up this life, introducing us and immortalizing us together the way you did?”

  “Thought it worth a try. The two of you both being lesbians and of about the same age. I do want you to be happy, you know.”

  “Cheers, but lately I’m thinking she and I are not the full love connection.”

  “Still, having some friends with benefits around for eternity never hurts.”

  Zoe smirked. “Guess you’d know about that.”

  “Wouldn’t I just.” Niko stretched his arms up into the blue sky. “Speaking of which, I actually dropped by to tell you I’m on my way back to America to meet up with Adrian.”

  She stared at him. “Who was not one of your lovers. Please tell me he wasn’t.”

  “I don’t mean him. We’ll be dropping in on Landon.”

  “Ah. So he was one of your lovers. We supposed he must be, since you can track him, but you haven’t said. Who was he, then?”

  “Just a guy. No one you ever met, I don’t think.”

  “Bit of a crazy coincidence, though, isn’t it? Or I suppose it’s the Fates, or our magnetism to each other, or whatever we’re to call it.”

  “Indeed. Something out there keeps forging a way for us all to cross paths again.” He glanced at her. “Have you spent any time in Tartaros chatting with Quentin?”

  Zoe shuddered. “Yeeks, no. Why would I?”

  “Well, I have. And it’s interesting: apparently the rest of you never thought to ask her who she was in ancient times.”

  “She was someone we knew?”

  “She…” He picked casually at his teeth. “…was Hera.”

  Zoe jolted, almost tipping her computer off her lap. She shut it to keep it from harm. “No fucking way.”