Aphrodite's War

by Donna Milward

  “That hurt,” she said, raising a hand to the welt on her cheek. “Thanks. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Poetry got off Jenny and helped her stand. “Me neither, but it seems to be affecting everyone.” They glanced around. People were tearing at each other. Or racing aimlessly in full-blown hysteria. Bellowing intermingled with screeching tires and crunching metal as cars plowed into buildings, parked vehicles, and pedestrians.

  “We have to get away from here,” Jenny said. “Yeah,” Poetry nodded. “But where?” They began to back away from the riot. More men and women were swarming to the vortex of frenzied humanity in front of the damaged drinking establishment.

  “Can we go to Gary’s? Doesn’t he live on Jasper Ave?” Jenny shook her head. “No. I’m not going there. It’s too far to run anyway.” She bit her lip and glanced around at the skyscrapers. “But you gave me an idea.”

  Jenny pointed northwest, to a tall building with red balconies. “We need to go there.” A second explosion rocked the block, superheating the already sweltering air and frightening situation. Poetry guessed it came from the basement dance bar, Woody’s.

  “Let’s go. Now,” Poetry shoved Jenny in the opposite direction. “Run.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN “Alright, alright.” Adrian hurried at the sound of insistent knocking. “I’m coming.” So much for coming home early to get some practice in. What did he have to do to get some time to himself these days?

  He disengaged the deadbolts and the alarm system with quick fingers. Adrian yanked the door open and Jenny tumbled into his arms. “Oh God, thanks so much for letting us in, Adrian,” she said, squeezing him tight. “You’re a lifesaver.”

  Us? When he’d buzzed the intercom, Jenny hadn’t mentioned company. Adrian glanced past the tangle of Jenny’s hair to the other woman waiting in the hall.

  The one with the crazy ex. She looked frazzled. He could smell fear and the city’s smog radiating from her, even over Jenny’s fruity perfume. Shit. Now what? Was the boyfriend back or something? Why were they here? Instead of voicing those thoughts he said, “No problem. Come in.” He released Jenny and swept his arm wide in welcome. “Me casa, es su casa.”

  Jenny flounced in as though she lived there, the other girl…Pamela? No, that wasn’t right… entered with obvious reluctance.

  “What’s going on?” Adrian asked. He inclined his head toward… Patricia? “Hi.” “Hi.” She wrapped her arms around herself and stood perfectly still inside the foyer. Her discomfort and wariness reminded him of a city rabbit; perhaps she thought she might be safe if she didn’t move. Of course, Edmonton rabbits bolted when you looked directly at them.

  “Where’s your ‘mote?” Jenny asked. “Maybe it’s on the news already. Geez, if I had a TV this size, I’d actually use it.”

  “What? I like it off when I practice.” “Is that why you’re wearing pajamas?”Jenny busied herself by pawing through the issues of Home Builder and Canadian Homes and Cottages on the coffee table. He fumed inwardly when she knocked his shinai to the floor without even noticing.

  Adrian’s face flushed in irritation. “This is my gi. It’s a uniform for martial arts.”

  Jenny ignored him. “I can’t find the remote.” Adrian strolled past her, snatched up the bamboo sword and leaned it against a corner of the room far away from her, biting down a snarling comment about disrespect. He plucked the controller off the plasma television stand.

  “Right here,” he said, and pressed the power button. “…Aren’t sure what motivated the attack, but it is believed to be an act of violence directed at the gay community specifically…” Adrian squinted at the screen as images of smoke and fire danced with a throbbing crowd. He couldn’t make out the ranting but he recognized a riot when he saw one.

  “Police are saying little at this time, except to stay indoors.“ He became aware of the dark-haired girl beside him. “It was so weird,” she said. “Everyone lost their minds all at once.” “What do you mean?” Adrian asked. “Like someone threw a switch. One minute everyone’s normal and going on with their day, and suddenly Buddy’s blows up and they’re all intent on maiming each other.” Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “Even Jenny went kind of insane.”

  They studied her back as she sat riveted to the broadcast. Jenny showed no outward signs to suggest violence.

  “She seems normal now,” Adrian said. She pushed her garish bangs from her forehead. “Well, as normal as Jenny ever is.” “Do you think she’s a danger to us?” he asked. “Or herself?” The goth girl shook her head. “No. I think the worst is over.” “Mew.” The girl’s head snapped toward the sound in the kitchen.

  “Amir?” She nearly shoved Adrian over in her desperation to get to the adjacent room. “Amir!”

  Speaking of losing your mind. Not that he could blame her. Cat had grown on him as well. Even if he did have a chewing fetish. And he couldn’t deny that the expression of joy radiating from her face warmed him in a way he didn’t see coming.

  “Oops.” Jenny palmed her forehead and gave Adrian an absentminded smile. “I didn’t know you still had Poe’s kitty.” He watched an angry shadow pass over tattooed girl’s face before she bent to collect her cat. Poetry…That was her name. No wonder he couldn’t remember it.

  “Careful, little guy’s got some deep bruising.” Even as he said it Adrian judged the warning to be unnecessary.

  Poetry gathered the purring ball of fur in slow motion it seemed, tender as a mother.

  “Hey, sweetie.” Loving coos accompanied a nose nuzzle that made Adrian want to retch. “I missed you so much. Did you miss me?” Chicks and their animals. But he had to admit, it was kind of cute in an Ihazcheezeburger kind of way. Yuck. Poetry turned and Adrian’s heart lurched. Her eyes gleamed. He couldn’t mistake the gratitude shining there. It poured straight from her soul to her face. He wouldn’t be surprised to hear harps in the background.

  He couldn’t help thinking how striking she looked. Vibrant. Alive. Sexy. Whoa. Where did that come from?

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” she said. “I am just so grateful for everything…”

  No, no. Don’t cry. “Yeah.” That was smooth. But he didn’t know what to say. He’d just done what was right. Anyone else would have done the same…“Hey, I need a beer. You girls want one?”

  He slid past Poetry, stopping to rub a finger along Amir’s silky jaw. The lethargic cat mustered the energy to bite the tip with his pointy little fangs. Again.

  Adrian shook off the sting and retreated to the fridge. Cool air seeped past his nose to his feet as he groped for the cold ones at the back. He popped all three before taking a swig.

  Poetry still had her hands full of black Persian so Adrian left hers on the edge of the counter before heading back to the living room with a brew for Jenny.

  “Oh my God!” Jenny’s squeaky voice brought him back to the situation at hand. “Would you look at this?” She cranked the volume and Vinesh Pratap’s voice boomed through the speakers. “We have since learned the fire was caused by two bombs…”

  “That explains the bangs I heard,” Adrian said, gulping another mouthful as he passed her a bottle. “Thought I had new neighbors coming in.” Stupid. How could he mistake explosions for clumsy movers?

  “…Buddy’s, a known gay club. It is believed to be the work of a protest group in support of Frank Fleisher…” The lager went skunky in Adrian’s mouth. This wasn’t good. He tried to calculate the impact this information would have on his case, but rational thought eluded him.

  As if on cue, the phone rang. The news hounds had descended. Lucky him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY “Pretty please?” For the second time in one day Aphrodite found herself submissive in the presence of another god…in their territory. She did not enjoy it. Especially since this particular deity was once her mate.

  Hephaestus tapped out a chest plate. His measured strikes shaped space for a man’s pectorals. The insistent clanging drummed a painful rhyt
hm in Aphrodite’s temples. She had loved him long ago. Until Ares stole her away. She left Hephaestus behind in Eden to dominate this realm.

  But he pursued her, sacrificing everything he knew and loved to come for her. His journey through a dimensional portal had ended with a long fall from the heavens that permanently maimed him. And still Aphrodite had shown no sympathy. She shunned him in favor of her lover.

  Now, like her, he remained a prisoner of this world. It was a mistake, breaking the ancient and sacred bond. She had scarred him deeply, but it was too late to heal ancient wounds now. Perhaps she could beseech him for old time’s sake.

  “No. I won’t help you.” Or perhaps not.

  “In fact, I hope you lose. I relish the thought of you wallowing among the humans without your powers or indulgences.” He returned to hammering the metal, every beat a dagger to Aphrodite’s ears.

  “Like you?” She made no effort to hide her contempt. “You are nothing more than a Nephilim.” “I chose this,” Hephaestus said. He spread his arms to encompass the huge forge in which they stood. “I embraced this planet and made the best of my situation. I certainly don’t spend my days mincing around, playing at false godliness.”

  Aphrodite swallowed angry remarks and pursed her lips. This was not going well. Hephaestus’s resentment oozed from his pores like a sickness. No doubt he blamed her for his physical hurts as well as his emotional ones. She could almost sense his ill will on her skin. His love for her was long gone, withered and decayed from neglect.

  She attempted another angle. “She is one of yours.” “Who is?” “The girl. My champion is one of your protégés.”

  Hephaestus abruptly ceased his labors. For a moment Aphrodite wondered if she had gone deaf. Neither breathed. The stillness gave the monstrous room an ominous bearing. She jerked when the woof of a gas flame burst to life in an oven somewhere behind her.

  “Poetry.” Hephaestus spat the name of the only female under his tutelage. “Why would you choose my favorite smith? Was it not enough for you to destroy our union?” His face reddened, his eyes blazed. “After all these years you dare interfere with my humans?” Her former partner advanced.

  “I apologize. I did not know she was yours. Her parents revere me as classical art.” She retreated, knocking a pair of pliers and a ball peen hammer off someone’s work space as she groped her way. “She wears my likeness on her back.”

  Hephaestus stopped, putting his weight on his good foot. He dropped his chin and rubbed a calloused hand over the bristles on his head. Quiet returned, less profound than before.

  “I hate that tattoo.” “I had no knowledge that she toiled beside you,” Aphrodite said, clasping her hands together in a mockery of prayer. “I swear. I only learned of it when I followed her here.”

  She experienced his exasperation, saw it in the way he tugged at his beard. “I am sorry.” “I almost believe you mean that.”

  “I do.” Almost. She poured softness into her voice as she approached. “There is a human saying ‘great minds think alike’.”

  He peered at her from beneath his feathery eyebrows. “I am aware of the phrase.”

  Aphrodite smiled. His roar had become a mere growl. “It seems we have the same taste in mortals.” Aphrodite traced her hand along his sooty chin, delighting in how it tickled her palm. “Would you permit Ares’s victory simply to spite me?” She twisted a subtle hip forward, unleashing her charm. Her nipples hardened; she aroused herself with her own seduction.

  She crushed them against Hephaestus’s naked chest, inhaled his masculinity. “Would you really let the war god hurt me?” She fluttered her lashes in a way that manipulated males of any age or profession. “Would you let him break Poetry’s heart? Destroy her spirit? You understand his cruelty. Once he finishes with her, she may never create again.”

  A tremor passed through Hephaestus. Aphrodite felt it rumble through her body as though it belonged to her.

  “You win,” he said, a heavy sigh slumping his massive shoulders. “I will come to your aid if I am able.”

  Aphrodite rejoiced and clutched him closer. “I knew I could count on you.” Hephaestus removed her arms from his torso. “I’m not doing this for you. Poetry doesn’t need you playing games with her life, her craft is too important.”

  “Yes, of course.” Aphrodite straightened the folds of her toga, noting with irritation how her touch created black streaks. The fact that her femininity had little effect on him heightened her ire, but she willed herself calm. “I understand.”

  She had nothing more to say. Now that she had his assistance she would depart. She took a last look around Vulcan’s Forge, with its towering ceilings and boxy ovens. The sooner she made her exit from this ugly place the better.

  “I appreciate this, my husband.” His face contorted from hate and pain. “Do not call me that.” He resumed pounding a curve into the breastplate. Aphrodite nodded, more to herself. They would never be together again. She ought to remember that if she wished to avoid upsetting her new ally.

  She pivoted toward the exit, keeping eyes open for a certain spot before she went.

  She almost missed Poetry’s corner tucked out of view. Aphrodite recognized the carved petals waiting on the table. She approached them, noting how only some were glazed and polished. Certainly they would become another necklace. They reminded her of the daisies Poetry frequently wore only these appeared to be roses. Such a dark color she chose, purplish-black. Aphrodite mused vaguely if her son had anything to do with the strange choice. He had a love of roses, and a way of seducing women with them.

  Aphrodite fingered through tools, molds and a dusty pile of photos. Pitch flew into the air, tickling her nose. She repressed her sneeze, sniffling instead and in doing so noting how the residue stank of iron.

  A quick flip through the pictures demonstrated a common theme with Poetry’s work. Did this woman do anything other than flowers? How dull. Beautiful work, yes, but time for something new.

  Something a man might wear.

  She caught sight of a spool of wire and a spark of an idea formed. She did not have Apollo’s power of inspiration, but no matter. If love could not move a woman to greater heights, it was because she did not live.

  Aphrodite picked the roll from the shelf and kissed it. A whispering mist passed from her lips to the shining silver thread.

  With her work done and her plans in place, Aphrodite disappeared. She very much enjoyed when things went her way.

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE Adrian drew a deep shaking breath of metal and dust. But he wasn’t complaining. Anything to get away from the chaos on Jasper Avenue and his landline. He had a bad feeling this would be the nearest thing to peace and quiet he’d get for a long time.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Poetry said. “You keep doing me all these favors…” She shook her head. “…I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.” “It’s no big deal.” He gawked at his surroundings; sky-high ceilings, wall-to-wall kilns, ovens and fire pits. Uncomfortable warmth settled on his skin. “Do you live or work here?”

  “Yes.” Poetry shot him a smirk over her shoulder. “I moved into an upstairs apartment after…after…you know, ‘The Kevin Incident’.” Jenny ran her fingers over a work bench as she strolled. “Ew. This place is gritty.” “If it really bothers you that much you don’t have to stay here,” Poetry said. Adrian heard the edge in her voice and saw the tension in her shoulders as she led them to a staircase. “Besides, it was your idea.”

  “Rowr.” “See. Amir likes it already.” Adrian’s lip curled at the loud smackingkissing noises. Obviously Poetry had a closer friendship with that fluffball than she did with her roommate.

  In the hour she’d been reunited with Amir he’d shown signs of improvement. She literally had him eating out of her hand, Seafood Medley treats to be exact. His Bentley reeked of them. He hoped to God the stench was temporary.

  He hated to admit it, but watching them relieved a lot of tension on the drive over. The street
s were creepishly hushed in some areas and overrun with raging motorists and crazy pedestrians in others. Broken glass covered the roads. They’d taken a few detours. The radio blared nothing but disturbing updates and violent arguments between DJs. Not a pleasant trip. Even the music they played became progressively Megadeth.

  But when Adrian thought of his incessantly ringing home phone and the multitude of messages that were building up on his cell, he’d prefer to hang out with the girls in this sweat box.

  They climbed the stairs, and Adrian peered out across the field of equipment and metalwork. If he saw Poetry’s station would he recognize it? He tried to picture it. Would it have a feminine touch? Would it reflect her gothic style?

  “Right through here,” Poetry said. “Oh, thank God,” Jenny said, her shoulders dropping with relief. “I thought this was it.” “No, this is the common room,” Poetry said. “But the apartment isn’t much bigger.” She approached a closet. Adrian checked again. Yes, it was a closet door.

  Poetry opened it and bent to crawl inside. Adrian glanced at Jenny, her expression uncertain.

  Poetry popped her head out. “Are you two coming?” Adrian grinned at Jenny, gestured toward the small space. “After you.” Once his turn came, he saw another narrow staircase. Unlike Poetry’s last apartment, these didn’t smell like cheap, starchy food. Instead, he detected the mildew and mustiness common to architectural relics. It tickled his nose and he discretely covered it.

  “Oh my God, Poetry,” Jenny said. “This place stinks.” “And here we are,” Poetry said, her voice too cheery, too loud. No doubt trying to gloss over Jenny’s rude comments. What did Gary see in

  her? Besides the tight ass… “Home sweet home.”

  Poetry flicked a switch, and the true grime of the suite became apparent. The walls needed washing and painting. The linoleum had wrinkles and cracks. Everything, the appliances, fixtures and cupboards, begged to be updated.

  “I love it,” Adrian said. Both women gaped at him. “Really?” Poetry asked.