by Molly Ringle
Chapter Twenty-Five
It was directly after Adrian flew away, back to North America to prepare the Airstream and check in on Thanatos, that Sophie remembered a happy bit of Persephone’s afterlife. Finally, she thought, some good news.
Hekate, with Dionysos and Athena in tow, burst into the fields one day in an overflow of joy. Her magical powers were back. Persephone felt as much delight as a dead soul possibly could. Her daughter looked whole again for the first time since Persephone and Hades had died. Life was truly continuing.
As if she needed more proof, the next day Hekate came to her with an interesting question indeed, which suggested her thoughts were traveling some new directions.
“Mother,” Hekate said, after drawing Persephone aside to talk in private. “It isn’t important, I just wondered. Well…Hermes is a good friend to me of course, and I’ve heard rumors that he…he’ll have romances with anyone…”
Persephone laughed. “That’s a diplomatic way to put it.”
“Then did you and he ever—?” She cringed.
“No, never.” Persephone was amused. “Just friendly kisses. Though I’m sure he would have taken more, if I had offered.”
“I’m sure. Then with Father, did he? I know he’ll go either way. Hermes, I mean. I’m not sure about Father.”
“No. Hermes certainly tried a few times, but Hades wasn’t interested.”
Hekate smiled. “Thank you. It really doesn’t matter; I just wanted to know more about the old days. How you all were back then. Who I can trust.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can trust Hermes, at least in the ways that count. He loves you, you know.”
Hekate looked at her, astounded. “Hermes does?”
“I suppose we never told you. But when you’d been kidnapped, and he was dashing out with Kerberos to find you, he seemed so heartbroken. It occurred to me to ask him if he loved you. And he said, ‘More than you’ll ever know.’”
Hekate’s lips parted, but she said nothing. A flush infused her face, a soft beauty kindling in her dark eyes, as if the revelation had taken her breath away.
“As you say,” Persephone added, “he loves many people, often quite temporarily, and in any case it’s unwise to believe half of what he says. But I did feel in that instance that he spoke honestly.”
“Thank you,” Hekate echoed, and wandered away looking stunned.
Sophie pulled apart a pomegranate from the orchard so she and her friends could have some fresh produce for lunch alongside their peanut butter sandwiches. While recalling the memory, she had absentmindedly set out plates under a willow tree. Now she looked across the field at Zoe, who chatted with Liam, Freya, and Tab. A few steps off, Niko talked with Sanjay’s soul, but kept stealing glances at Zoe. In fact, Zoe sent him a few random glances too, and looked a bit flustered and preoccupied.
Maybe his kiss on Zoe’s temple earlier wasn’t just platonic, then.
Sophie smiled, and dealt a handful of pomegranate seeds onto each plate. Okay, the relationship statuses around here had officially gotten way too complicated to keep track of.
***
Hekate paced alongside the underground river. She touched stalagmites and plants along the way, relishing the magic effervescing within them. At least half her mind considered what she might now be able to do, with her magic back, to help people, for truly the possibilities were immense.
But it annoyed her how the other half of her mind kept asking, And what about having sex with Hermes? Should we do that, when he comes down here in search of it, which he’s likely to do any moment?
It had been two nights ago now, the return of her magic followed by the unexpected tangle with Hermes. Dionysos had spent the first night here, and of course she’d celebrated with him in amorous fashion. It would have felt wrong not to. At the same time it felt a little bit duplicitous, when he didn’t know she had almost celebrated, and might yet celebrate, in the same way with Hermes. Then again, he likely wouldn’t throw any jealous fits if she did. So she hadn’t brought it up, and besides, there were more important topics to discuss.
Yesterday had been filled with visitors, her fellow immortals coming down to congratulate her and talk about the uses she might put her magic to. Hermes had been among them, but he hadn’t lingered long. From the number of immortals already down in the cave, he likely deduced they wouldn’t get a moment alone all day, and he had kissed Hekate’s cheek casually and told her he’d come again the next day. Her heart had galloped at the promise.
Dionysos had left this morning after spending one more night. He had festivals to arrange, temple priests to talk to, especially now with the exciting plan of incorporating Hekate’s magic into his activities somehow. Hekate was alone at last, her mind constantly swerving back to that phrase her mother had dropped upon her this morning: More than you’ll ever know.
Suddenly Hermes’ presence was near, likely breaking past the forest of oaks that surrounded the cave on the surface. She gulped down a swift breath, then turned and walked back toward the entrance chamber. She pushed her hair back from her face and smoothed her midnight-blue gown.
It was silly to be nervous. Immortal friends sought pleasure in each other all the time. She hadn’t been in the habit yet, beyond Dionysos, but she had to get used to it. Hermes was a good place to start, really, since he bedded everyone. It would mean nothing. No reason to be jittery.
Unless he loved her more than anyone knew. Oh, Goddess. Could she intuit the truth with someone like Hermes? Even when she read emotions through touch, she couldn’t always be sure where they came from or how long they’d last.
She turned a bend in the river and there he was: a figure in red cloak and cap, hopping up the bank after crossing on the raft. He pulled off his cap and strolled toward her. By some sleight-of-hand trick, he made a plant appear in his hand, a small shrub with little bell-shaped white blossoms, its root ball tied up in sackcloth.
“And how’s the magical lady today?” He handed her the plant.
“Quite well, thank you.” She took it and sniffed the flowers. “Lovely. Andrakhnos, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Makes little red fruits. They taste bland, but perhaps if it grows down here they’ll at least have some uncanny property.”
“Always likely.” She met his eyes and found them, as expected, a fathomless green sea of unknowable mysteries and undeniable interest. She swallowed, her face hot, and she lost the ability to go on pretending plants were interesting at the moment.
His mouth twitched at the corners. He held out his bare arm. “Oh, go on. Drink in today’s crop of lust.”
She set her cold fingertips on his forearm. Not only lust but love, the same mix as before, unique to him, surged straight to her heart, feeling like the first golden beam of sunlight at dawn.
His red cape fell around her as he drew her body against his and began kissing her neck, in no hurry at all, as if he were a vine that naturally grew to curl around her. She melted against him, closing her eyes. One hand still clutched the andrakhnos plant, but she spread the other upon his chest, over his swiftly beating heart, where the desire shone brightest. Well, not quite. A little lower down and currently poking her in the belly, that was where it’d be brightest.
“Tell me,” he said. “When you feel such wants in others, do they spread to you?”
“Not with everyone.” Her words rippled with a laugh.
“Ah, good. You have standards.” He was still kissing her throat, her shoulders. “But right now?”
“I admit it enhances things at the moment.”
“You do seem to like my touch. A little better every time.” His palm coasted across her breasts, giving each a teasing squeeze. She shivered with pleasure. “You even seemed to enjoy my touch once without your magic. That night when you returned to the Dionysia.”
“And you seemed to desire me that night even though I had no magic.”
“You,” he suckled her earlobe for a moment, “always have magic.”
He smelled bewitching, like fresh sea air and fragrant spices along with the indescribable scent of his own skin. She was about ready to drop the plant and haul him down to the grass right here. And this was really not the location for it.
She blinked, focusing over his shoulder at the souls who drifted by and glanced at them. She wriggled out of his grasp and caught her breath. “That’s good enough for a greeting between friends. Otherwise it’ll be all over the Underworld soon.”
“So?” He propped his hands on his hips, amused.
“There’s—I don’t know if—I haven’t talked about it with…”
“You and Dionysos aren’t exclusive,” he reminded her. “You’ve both said so.”
“Still, I don’t think he expects—well, and if we do, what then?”
“What then?” Hermes lifted his eyebrows slightly, as if what happened after a wild sexual liaison couldn’t possibly matter.
Honestly. Men.
“Is this just friends helping each other out?” she accused. It annoyed her how much she wanted this liaison despite all its sordidness. “I assume it must be.”
“A little more than that. Aren’t we a fairly good match, you and I, in our strange way?”
“Oh, as if you’re going to become my new partner. You aren’t the type to stick around. Even if you want me, even if you love me, you’re still you.”
A flicker of vulnerability changed his eyes, then he adjusted his expression to mild amusement. “Well. Luckily I didn’t expect any sweet sentiments from you.”
She exhaled, and steadied the plant between her hands. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be hurtful. But I’m…having trouble understanding what you want.”
The amusement spread on his face, lifting his lips and eyebrows.
“I mean, I know what you want,” she amended. “But I don’t know what you want to be in regards to me.”
“People often have trouble fitting me into categories. I advise everyone not to try.” He advanced on her, smooth as a shadow. “But I seldom object to the category of ‘lover.’” He caressed her face with his fingertips and then with a kiss on her lips.
The warmth of his mouth almost toppled the last of her defenses. “Well,” she breathed, her nose brushing his. “I suppose I understand sufficiently, if that’s all.”
“Good.” He slipped his hand between the folds of her tunic so his palm cupped her breast. “I’ll be happy to explain in further detail what I want from you, if you like.”
She swallowed, and tried to slow her breathing. “Not here. Come on.”
She strode past him to the river. She set the andrakhnos plant on the ground near the dock, for later planting, and led him onto the raft. They crossed the river and climbed the opposite bank. She led him through the tunnel, neither of them speaking. In the entrance chamber she picked up a folded wool blanket from a stack against the wall, and took it to her spirit horse. Hermes smiled smugly as he glanced at the blanket, but obeyed when she jerked her chin toward his horse. They mounted on their separate horses and flew out of the cave, though not far: Hekate descended into the thick oak forest outside the Underworld and landed in a clearing. Hermes settled beside her.
She hopped down. Acorn shells broke under her sandals. Her hands trembled as she tied her horse to a branch.
Not in the Underworld, not this first time. For one thing, it would feel inappropriate somehow—her parents’ former home, and the bed where she had lately hosted Dionysos. For another, more immortals might come seeking her today, and she didn’t wish to be interrupted if she was going to do this. The surrounding oak trees out here would block them from being tracked.
Last night’s rain had blown away. Spring sunlight warmed the trees and brought up a sweet fresh smell from the ground. Spirit-world animals shrieked and chattered out in the forest. In the clearing, the sun lit up gold threads in Hermes’ shaggy brown curls. He took her hand and drew her closer.
“Do you love me?” she asked.
He kept gazing into her eyes. “Of course I do.”
“But don’t you say that to lots of people in order to get their clothes off?”
“Of course I do,” he repeated, and his white teeth flashed in a grin. Then he touched his forehead to hers, barely having to lean down for it, for she was almost his height. “But in your case it’s true.”
“And surely you say that to lots of people.” But she nuzzled his nose, and all she could think about was the feel of his lips, his hands, his body…
“I’m sorry; was this a seduction or a trial?” He took the folded blanket off her arm and stepped back into the shadows of the forest, pulling her along.
He spread the blanket over the mosses and ground-creeping plants at the feet of the massive oaks. Hekate’s heartbeat pounded in her ears. Hermes unhooked his cloak and spread that out on top of the blanket. He toed off his sandals onto the moss, leaving him wearing just his tunic, pinned over one shoulder. He stretched out on his back on the blankets, arms behind his head, gazing up at the treetops as if enjoying a picnic alone. Then he looked at her and reached out his hand. “Are we done bantering?”
She took his hand.
***
If he’d acted smug or cocky, as Hekate dreaded, she likely would never have done it again. But instead he touched her unhurriedly, reverently, and at his touch she received such a rush of delighted, vulnerable love from him that she relaxed her guard. Straddled on top of him, she closed her eyes and let herself enjoy.
But Hermes sat up carefully, his body still locked with hers, and said, “Open your eyes.”
She did. They breathed swiftly, close enough to exchange the same air, and she gazed in wonder at the living green of his irises.
He seemed equally fascinated with hers. “Eyes like nightfall,” he said. “Magical eyes. You haven’t even been trying to bewitch me, have you, but you’ve done it all the same.”
Somewhere around there, Hekate’s casual desire for a friend, which she suspected would be as ephemeral as a cut flower, put down roots and began blossoming into something larger.
Those roots deepened afterward when she lay in his embrace and felt the tenderness radiating from him. It was real, at least for now. Maybe it was real with every lover he visited, and maybe it would be gone in a month. But its existence today was enough.
“You’ll come back tomorrow?” she asked.
He chuckled, deep in his throat. “Try to stop me.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sophie thrust the shovel’s point deeper into the pale rocky soil, in the beam of a camping lantern. Sweating, she paused to wiggle the trunk of the little pomegranate tree, but its roots still held tight under the earth.
“Jeez,” she told it. “Didn’t expect you to put up such a fight.”
The tree was only about three feet tall, one of the many that had sprouted up from fallen seeds around the orchard.
She leaned on the shovel and rested a minute, then set to work again, throwing all her weight downward to make the shovel’s blade bite deep.
Finally she got the blade beneath the tree’s root ball and levered the whole thing out of the ground. She plunked it into a large plastic plant pot, and filled it in with dirt.
“There.” She blew out a satisfied breath. “One pomegranate tree ready to move.”
She hadn’t slept well after that revelation about Thanatos possibly being about to dive straight into the Underworld. True, she and Liam usually stayed in the sleeping quarters across the river, not among the trees and souls where invaders would be likeliest to look, but it was still scary. And she worried about the trees and the other plants, too. This was the Underworld’s sacred garden patch, damn it. Persephone’s pride and joy. Sophie knew Thanatos’ ways, how they liked to throw explosives around. This sprawling black-leaved pomegranate orchard had been growing nicely and reseeding itself on its own for millennia, sure, but she was betting it couldn’t stand up to getting firebombed.
So yesterday she had aske
d Tab to take her to a market in one of the larger Greek cities nearby, and she’d bought dozens of plant pots of various sizes, along with shovels and trowels and gardening gloves.
Most of the trees were too big to move without a backhoe. And she didn’t dare disturb the roots of the developing chrysomelia tree, nor the newly planted titoki and spring bulbs. But these plants had to live in the Underworld in order to retain their magic, and she could at least move some of them to somewhere else in the cave. Just in case.
***
Zoe felt like she’d been blushing all day. Those memories about Hermes—holy good goddamn.
Starting with that day in the oak forest and continuing, like, every day, or two or three times a day for at least the next month (likely longer; she hadn’t moved farther along than that yet), Hekate and Hermes were in full-on smoking-hot affair mode. Zoe’s freshly revived memories fed the sensations to her in high definition. Racing hearts, heavy breathing, rhythmic slapping together of sweaty skin, constant excitement and distraction and longing, the whole deal.
If it was just fun sex between friends, maybe she could’ve laughed off the recollection. But Hekate hadn’t quite succeeded at feeling that way, and that threw Zoe’s balance off too.
Hekate couldn’t exactly say she loved Hermes at that point, but she found herself irrationally jealous of his other lovers—even ones in the past whom he never saw anymore. As for whether there were current ones, she couldn’t bring herself to ask. Shooting truth magic into him to get answers would have been a most disrespectful way to treat a lover, and anyway, she told herself she didn’t mind as long as he still kept her as one of his lovers. But sometimes she did mind.
Dionysos was easy to understand once you got to know him; he gamely told all to his friends, as candid as the tipsy people at his festivals. Hermes was a different creature altogether, not exactly opaque but composed of so many ever-shifting layers that you could never see all of them at once. She now understood how such mystery could be enticing. She craved him, enjoyed him, kept receiving him in the Underworld or meeting him elsewhere, and all the while itched to peel away those many layers and learn the ordinary things about him. Who did he see, really? Who did he love, honestly? He said he kept several houses here and there around the Mediterranean, each of which he stayed in as was convenient to his roaming, but did any of them feel like home to him? Would he ever settle down somewhere? What did he need and long for?