Immortal's Spring (The Chrysomelia Stories)

by Molly Ringle

  A lively debate about the punishment of souls in Tartaros was interrupted by the clang of swords and a barrage of shouts. The tumult came from below, near the town walls. One of the sanctuary’s armed guards ran down the road to find out what was happening, and soon raced back up. “Thanatos,” he said. “They’ve gotten over the wall.”

  Everyone scrambled to their feet. “Home, all of you!” Hekate commanded. But only a few obeyed. Most refused to leave, insisting upon defending the sanctuary, and she had no time to convince them. The enemy surged up the road—more than thirty this time. The sanctuary’s ten armed guards now looked frighteningly inadequate. But they rushed forward and engaged Thanatos in a cacophony of clashing blades, while Hekate and the rest picked up every knife, axe, or stone they could find.

  Holding a double-bladed axe intended more for ceremony than battle, Hekate stood front and center in the row of terrified people ready to defend their temple. Neither she nor any of the rest were soldiers. They only used knives or axes for preparing food or cutting firewood. And now these brilliant, sweet-tempered students were about to die because she was here—because she had brought the word of the immortals to the living realm.

  Five of the guards had fallen, while at least twenty Thanatos soldiers remained. The remaining five Eleusis guards edged back, drawing closer together to protect the students, but Hekate could see they would soon be overpowered and then the real massacre would begin. Cold sweat drenched her. Every memory of her own kidnapping and torture, and the sacrifice of her parents and grandmother, crashed over her in a horrible wave.

  The terror would have defeated her except that with it came righteous fury. Thanatos had already destroyed so much. They would not, would not, hurt anyone else tonight.

  A flicker of lightning illuminated the clouds over the sea. Hekate lifted her axe and, without thinking, called upon the immense power of the incoming storm.

  The power obeyed.

  Almost as strong as if lightning had struck her, she felt the magic surge up from the Earth, through her feet and legs and body and into her raised arms. With a roar of triumph, she pointed the axe at the Thanatos army.

  All their weapons, swords and spears and knives, flew up, tumbled through the air, and landed at the feet of the sanctuary students.

  “Her power is back!” The head priestess seized one of the fallen knives.

  With a chorus of cheers, the students grabbed the rest of the weapons and brandished them at Thanatos. As if in answer, lightning forked across the sky, and thunder shook the ground.

  Hekate saw the fear in the eyes of the now-disarmed Thanatos soldiers. At the feeling of her magic running up and down her, dancing all over and through her, she could do nothing for a moment but laugh, half-maniacally.

  “Get them!” shouted the Thanatos army’s leader, and he lunged forward to try to wrestle the knife away from a slender woman.

  But she and her fellow students fought back—and now they held all the weapons. Some from Thanatos turned and ran. Others stayed to fight, but they were losing ground, being forced back down the road away from the sanctuary.

  Lightning flashed again, closer. It was only the natural path of the storm, not Hekate’s doing, but since it was near, she could harness its power.

  She dropped the axe and seized the hands of the priestess and priest who stood at either side of her. At her will, the power rushed to her eyes. A glow glared there and nearly obscured her vision with its brilliance. But its light reflected on the faces of the enemy, and she saw the terror in their gaping eyes and mouths. A glance to either side showed her trick was working, simple but effective: the eyes of the priest and priestess glowed like captured lightning, a white light blindingly bright in the darkness.

  The students gasped and stared too. The fighting dwindled to almost nothing.

  “You have brought forth the wrath of the Earth itself.” Hekate deepened her voice. She kept the glow pouring from her eyes and her companions’. “Leave now and never act against the immortals or your fellow humans again, or the Goddess will drag you to the flames beneath the Earth.”

  Lightning forked over the hill and thunder rumbled—again not Hekate’s doing, but conveniently timed.

  The students and guards jabbed blades at the shrinking-back Thanatos soldiers.

  After glances at each other, the remaining members of Thanatos turned and raced away. The guards and students chased after them, shouting in victory.

  Hekate dropped the hands of her companions, and let the glow vanish from their eyes. The three of them stood swaying and blinking a moment. Hekate was surprised, when her vision recovered, to find the priestess and priest dropping to their knees at her sides and kissing her hands fervently.

  She tugged her hands away. “Oh, get up! I’m no queen. Come, let’s make sure they’re gone, and heal these poor men.”

  The tumult continued a while longer. The enemy soldiers were chased far out of town, sent along with rocks thrown after them and the hearty curses of everyone in Eleusis. Of the fallen guards, miraculously none were killed, and though some of the wounds were serious, Hekate now had the power to speed along their healing with her bare hands, and felt confident each would recover.

  Then, of course, she had to be lauded and hugged a thousand times by the citizens. A special impromptu ceremony of gratitude at the sanctuary had to be held. During it she noticed a palpable tingling of power, which she had felt during the fighting too, and which she now realized didn’t come from herself. These mortal temple folk did indeed wield magic, deliberate and controlled. Their abilities didn’t match hers, of course; as she’d known when she was mortal herself, having an immortal body and an upbringing in the Underworld combined to form a sort of magical perfection that made her the ideal conduit. All she had to do, in many cases, was reach for energies and use them. Mortal practitioners needed years of meditation and practice, and then had to rely on spoken spells and physical objects to help focus the magic, and they probably had to stand on these sacred spots in order to sense results. Still, she felt and knew it now: these people, and others like them all over the world, were using the same powers she did, and they had worked out how to do it on their own. She had underestimated the folk of the mortal world, and tonight she was glad in her humility. She clasped the hands of each person who had taken part, thanked them and assured them they had successfully channeled the Earth’s powers, and watched each stand up straighter in pride.

  The lightning storm passed, leaving a cool and steady rainfall in its wake. Finally Hekate was able to walk off and be alone a while.

  She followed the road to the sea, her feet bare, each raindrop, pebble, and leaf a tangible blessing. She climbed over the driftwood at the shore, gathered up her skirts, and waded into the surf. Luminescent waves crashed around her knees in a flood of magic. The air smelled of freshly-washed earth and salty sea. Tears of joy ran down her cheeks, mingling with the rain. She lifted her face to the sky with eyes closed.

  The presence of someone drawing near became a new note in the blissful song. She opened her eyes.

  Though it was dark and he was only a shadowy shape walking toward her, she knew Hermes by his signature sense.

  “Is it true?” he called.

  She laughed. It took only a mild effort to draw the tiny lights in the warm sea up into her garments and turn them into a shining line of blue pinpoints strung in the air between her hands.

  Hermes waded into the sea and laughed. “It came back to you. Ah, love, is this the happiest day of your life?”

  She held up her palms, playing with the strings of lights. “It might truly be.”

  An incoming wave washed around their knees, dragging their cloaks about on the water’s surface. “And am I ruining it by being here?” But she still heard mirth in his voice.

  In answer she let the lights disappear, and grasped the powers of air. She pushed a concentrated gust like a hand against his lower back, shoving him toward her. He made a sound of surprise,
which he turned into a murmur of interest, and moved forward, only stumbling in the knee-deep water for a moment. She caught his hands.

  His thumbs stroked her palms. “Do you know what I think?” he said. “The Fates were never punishing you. You were punishing yourself. Tonight you finally earned your own forgiveness, that’s all.”

  She was too joyful to be disturbed by the suggestion. “Perhaps. Whatever the reason, I couldn’t be happier.” She looked down at his hands, realizing she could once again sense his emotions—or anyone’s, if she touched their skin. “Such love. Desire. Are you just back from seeing a lover?”

  He smirked, as if she were being quite obtuse. “Perhaps I’m with one now?”

  Then he dropped to his knees, and kissed her belly through the chilly wet fabric, and her bare thighs where she’d pulled her skirts out of the sea. Kneeling like that, he was almost chest-deep in the water, but it slowed him down none. She gasped and planted her feet wider for balance in the back-and-forth rushing currents, giddy with surprise both at his movements and at her own reaction of sudden desire. His thief’s hand slipped between her legs, caressing.

  You did these things with people at the Dionysia, yes, and there it mattered not at all. But this wasn’t the Dionysia. Tonight it was only the two of them, in the dark sea. The lust and love emanating from Hermes’ flesh where he touched her blazed like an invisible fire. She hadn’t sensed a lover’s feelings with magical enhancement since the one first night with Dionysos—a night that also had begun with Hermes’ kisses, now that she thought about it.

  Her mind filled with strange new questions about how long and how seriously he had wanted her, and her freshly found magic couldn’t tell her all the answers. But the desire issuing from his skin chased out her breath with its strength.

  His touches and kisses grew more determined, more rhythmic. A sound escaped her throat, the need surging to a concentrated ache low in her belly. The sea’s next wave swept inward and knocked them a few staggering steps toward shore. Hermes managed to stay on his knees and not fall underwater; he clung to her legs and laughed.

  She laughed too. “Come on.” She tugged him toward shore.

  He sloshed to his feet and hooked his arm around her waist. Rivulets of seawater ran down her legs. Together they tottered up the slope and picked a spot on the beach to tumble down. Hekate landed on her back on a patch of sand, Hermes atop her, a dark silhouette and a heavy weight of warm flesh and cold wet cloth.

  Her skirts fell up nearly to her waist, and she wrapped her unencumbered legs around him, savoring the feel of his body through the thin soaked cloth. He echoed the throaty sound she had made, lower and more determined, and rocked against her as he captured her mouth with his.

  Oh sweet fertile Goddess, could she do this? Right here and now? Haul up her gown and take Hermes on the beach, in the living realm just outside Eleusis, with hardly any preamble or discussion? What would he think of her, what would it change about their friendship, shouldn’t she slow down? Or did this count as a perfectly valid celebration of her triumph tonight?

  Once again the decision was made by an interruption of familiar friends approaching. Hermes sighed and informed her, “Oh yes. I was to tell you, Dionysos and Athena are on their way.”

  “Oh.” She tempered her voice to a reasonable tone, as if discussing gardening with a mere acquaintance, though he remained on top of her and they kept straining subtly against each other. “You were all together when you heard, then?”

  “Yes, in Athens.” He sounded casual too, though at least one certain part of him seemed to throb in its contact with her. “A rider came from Eleusis with news of the attack, and told us of the return of your powers. Athena and Dionysos went to Eleusis first, to make sure everyone was safe.”

  “But you came to me first.” She tightened her legs around him, although Dionysos and Athena must have left the town now; they were coming closer to the beach.

  “Couldn’t help myself.” He breathed the words, and pressed against her for another long moment before dragging himself up with reluctance.

  She stood too, shivering in her wet clothes. Was he again going to pretend they were just playing? Is that all they’d been doing? Did love and desire flare up and burn out that quickly for him?

  Before she could speak any of those questions aloud, a torch appeared down the road, emerging from behind the town wall. Dionysos called, “Hekate!”

  “Hello,” Hekate called back.

  Athena and Dionysos hurried down. Hekate had to tell them the account of the battle all over again, and demonstrate that her powers were back. The sheer joy returned to her as she talked of it, and she laughed and embraced her friends with unfeigned happiness. To herself she marveled that she could have been so strangely distracted by Hermes and erotic matters even for a short time.

  But whenever she glanced at Hermes, his face now illuminated by torchlight, the look in his eyes triggered a flash of excitement within her. Ordinarily it was well-nigh impossible to know what Hermes was thinking. But tonight, in those glances, she was certain of at least one thing he wanted.

  “Have you told your parents?” Dionysos asked.

  The reminder jerked her back to the present. “Not yet. I should.”

  “Let’s go now,” Athena said. “I’d love to be there when they hear.”

  Hekate couldn’t refuse when her friends were so delighted. She began walking along the road with them.

  Hermes stepped apart from the group and asked, “Shall I spread the word to the rest about your magic? They’ll appreciate some good news.”

  She nodded, mainly because she couldn’t see a way to insist he stay near her—and what would that accomplish right now, anyway? “Thank you,” she said.

  “I’ll visit you in the Underworld before long,” he answered. His gaze flicked down her body. “See how things are down there.”

  She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing in shock at the secret, brazen double meaning. She nodded in response.

  He bowed to the three of them and dashed off.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Landon was about to get a trip to Europe, just like he always wanted. And gosh, he didn’t even need a passport and didn’t have to spend a penny in airfare. Kind of handy, operating illegally.

  He poured himself a glass of bourbon in the rented Tahoe vacation house where Erick Tracy had relocated their temporary headquarters. From Washington they had moved for a week to an apartment in Roseburg, Oregon, and now they had moved again just to be cautious. This place was a condo on the Nevada side of the lake, done up like a ski chalet: suffocatingly thick comforters, fake animal-hide lampshades, wall paneling that was probably supposed to resemble natural timbers but looked more like plywood. At the lake’s high elevation, January snow blanketed everything. Landon had seen lots of skis and snowboards strapped to roof racks on their furtive drive here last night.

  He stared out the kitchen window. Above the pines, the sky was darkening to twilight. A clump of snow fell off the eaves and dropped past the window. From the forecast and the look of the clouds, more snow was on the way.

  He gulped the bourbon down. Maybe Greece would be warmer. If they were even going to Greece. Erick Tracy was still being a micromanaging ass and “working out” where they had to go first. There was some sorcerer lurking somewhere in Europe that he was trying to arrange a meeting with, to lure her onto their team. Sounded creepy. Landon was about ready to hand the full management over to the jerk and just drop out of Thanatos.

  Then do what? Turn state’s evidence against them, enter the Witness Protection Program, and hope his former allies never tracked him down to kill him? Even if Landon did drop out of Thanatos, the immortals would still hold a grudge for his part in the death of Sophie’s parents.

  At those thoughts, his chest and stomach knotted up until he felt like he was having a heart attack. Unlikely at his age, he supposed, but a panic attack, sure, that made sense.

  He p
oured one more slosh of bourbon and drank it. Please don’t let them find me. Please let them lose my trail. He prayed it a hundred times a day. But then, he had little faith in prayers.

  A clunk and shuffle behind him signaled Krystal’s approach on her crutches. He didn’t turn.

  She leaned a crutch against the kitchen counter and slid an arm around him. Her cheek pressed his back, warm through his shirt. The smell of her perfume swamped his nose, like the blast of scent inside hair salons. “Hey,” she said. “Everyone else is out. Now’s your chance to help me with my bath.”

  Krystal trying to sound sultry merely turned his stomach. He’d tried so hard to like her, just as he’d tried hard in the past with other girls, but it wasn’t working. And that was going to be trouble, because he had indeed led her on, and Krystal wasn’t the kind of woman you wanted to piss off.

  Jesus. At this rate everyone was going to want to kill him.

  He laughed nervously. “Yeah, I’m…a little too stressed out. Sorry.”

  “There are things I could do to relax you. Come on, you’ve got to want more than just those little kisses.”

  Those little kisses, their only remotely intimate contact so far, had been effort enough for him. He edged away, catching her arm and guiding it to the counter so she wouldn’t fall. “It’s just…I’m creeped out about this witch woman Tracy wants to find. I mean, what do we know about her? Are her powers for real?”

  Please let that change of subject work, he added to his collection of useless prayers.

  Krystal shrugged, one corner of her mouth twisting down. “You know how much research he does. He’s good at digging this stuff up. He says Tenebra’s the one to get, the most powerful practicer in the world.”