A Message For Iris : (Gods of Olympus Book 3)

by elda lore

  I curled into myself, my knees reaching my chest, the stretch of my back a gentle reprieve from the iron grip of my occupation. The butterfly tattoo had nearly signed my skin, forcing me off the earth to return to Olympus, seconds after Charlie’s ambulance pulled away. Once there, I retrieved my messages and returned to earth to deliver them. After a night filled with crossing sky and sea, I was exhausted.

  Too shortly after I closed my eyes, my phone rang.

  “Hello?” my voice croaked.

  “Iris, Charlie’s in the hospital!” The agitated concern of Violet was too much for me this morning.

  “I know,” I mumbled, rolling onto my stomach, attempting to stretch my back again. The pillow muffled my response as the inky fragrance of Charlie filled my nostrils.

  “Why aren’t you with him?” The question was like a knife to my skin. I wanted to be there. I wanted to be everything I suddenly thought Charlie deserved, but what he needed didn’t include a flighty goddess subject to the whims of beings greater than her. He deserved stability, as his tale of Hensley Conrad proved. He needed someone who believed in him. He needed me, I thought sadly.

  “I’m the one who called the ambulance.”

  “And then you left him?” Violet’s aghast, accusatory tone drove the figurative knife deeper. I curled back to my side, drawing up my knees.

  “I couldn’t go with him.” I hoped the sorrow in my voice conveyed to Violet what happened. I didn’t have a choice.

  “Go to him now!” she snapped. My brows furrowed. Was there something I was missing?

  “Why are you pushing this?” I sat up in bed, my body sore but suddenly alert. “Did something happen?”

  “You tell me. Something about his heart and his body rejecting it.”

  I swiped a hand through my heavy hair. Could this be happening? Was this my fault? Did Ben’s heart no longer want to beat inside Charlie?

  “How do you know this?”

  “I’ve seen him.” She sounded exasperated, as if it should be obvious. “I was with Cash when he got the call.”

  “You went out with Cash?” I blinked, surprised I had missed a detail of Violet’s life, especially one like having a date with a man she clearly crushed on.

  “No. I was just with him. You know, at choir practice.” My shoulders sank, and I shook my head. Poor Violet.

  “Is Charlie okay?” I inquired softly, knowing I had no right to ask after leaving him, and yet fully concerned about his well-being.

  “Go see him, Iris. Only he can answer that.”

  “He saw me,” I whispered. The silence through the line proved Violet knew what I meant. “He won’t be able to understand.”

  Violet sighed. “Have you ever considered he might? I don’t know what it is, but there is something different about him. The way he looks at you. The way you respond to him. I’ve never seen you so happy. I mean, you’re a pretty pleasant person, in general. Too nice, most days, but this…this is something more than happy, Iris. Don’t give it up, give into it.”

  “He can’t understand,” I whispered, dragging fingers slowly through my hair and holding them at the base of my neck.

  “He might.”

  “He might not.”

  “When did you get so pessimistic?” I shook my head in response, even though she couldn’t see me. I didn’t know what to do. I longed to tell Riordan everything, but the truth worried me. Could a mortal understand I was a goddess of Olympus?

  + + +

  The beeping of machines and twisting of tubes attached to Charlie frightened me. I didn’t know where to look, although I’d seen this scene before. Death waited in the hallways, pacing in hopes of bringing someone to the underworld. However, I wanted Charlie to remain on earth for a little longer.

  “Hey.” His groggy voice startled me from the rhythm of the telemetry machine.

  “Hey, yourself.” I stepped closer to him, reaching for his fingers, which were cold to my touch. He didn’t return my grasp.

  “They said you disappeared.” He swallowed with the effort of hinting. He knew I hadn’t been here for him.

  “I…I had…” I had somewhere to be, Charlie, and you’ll never understand.

  He slowly nodded his head, as if he knew my thoughts without my speaking.

  “Tell me,” he croaked, his eyes fighting to stay open.

  “You need your rest, Charlie.”

  “I need you,” he said, and his lids popped open with the statement. Like wasted glitter flitting to the ground, they closed slowly.

  “I’m so sorry, Riordan.”

  “Don’t,” he snapped, his eyes opening with determination again. “Don’t apologize. And for God’s sake, don’t lie.” The snarl to his tone spoke volumes. Charlie had been hurt with lies before. He needed the truth from me, but at what expense? What worried me was how he’d receive my story, and what he’d do with it once he knew it?

  “I’m not from here, Charlie. Not Maui. Or the United States. Just not from here.” It sounded like I was an alien from outer space, and for the first time in a long time, the weight of my existence pressed down on me. “I have powers and a calling.”

  “Like writing letters?” he questioned, his voice attempting humor as he struggled to grasp my reality.

  “It’s more than the letters. I’m a messenger from the sky.” His brow pinched.

  “Like an angel.” His voice was breathy as he stared at me, his eyes dreamy in a way other than mockery.

  “Not exactly, but I suppose the concept comes from someone like me. I can travel through realms, and I deliver messages between…beings.”

  His head rolled on the hospital pillow, and his glazed eyes tried to focus on the ceiling.

  “I’m not following.”

  “I’m Iris,” I sighed. “The messenger goddess.”

  Charlie’s head nodded and his heavy lids closed. The information was too much for him. His lips pinched, and his head began to shake side to side instead.

  “Jesus, Iris, if you don’t want to sleep with me again, you could just say it. You don’t have to make up a story.”

  “I’m not making it up,” I hissed, frustrated. His eyes opened, and he stared at the ceiling again.

  “I’m dreaming, aren’t I? You’re playing with me. An angel to haunt my dreams and take away my hope for good. You’ve been sent to pull me under and make me repent for my sins, for what I did to them.”

  “No, Charlie, no,” I pleaded, drawing closer to the bed, reaching for his cheek and then thinking better of touching him. “I’m telling you the truth as best I can. I knew you wouldn’t…”

  “My heart is not my own, Iris. Each beat is a lie. Why should what you say to me be any different?” Sorrow filled Riordan in a way I’d never seen before. His expression shifted as I witnessed him shutting down. He truly believed he’d done wrong and deserved punishment.

  “His heart beats for you,” Charlie whispered.

  “No, Charlie. Your heart beats for me.” I paused. “Or at least, I’d like it to.” I reached for his cold fingers again, squeezing in hopes he’d return the grasp. As his fingers remained lifeless on the bed, I released him, letting go of my heart once again, knowing the pain would pass. But somehow, I wanted the ache to last. It would be my reminder not to let down my guard again.

  12

  Riordan

  A week passed before I could return to Cash’s condo, where he mother-henned me to the edge of my ability to cope. I was going out of my mind cooped up in his place, despite the lovely view of the ocean. Each crash of the waves was a reminder of what I thought I’d lost on that cliff. Each rain shower, a reminder of what she said. And then, one morning there was a rainbow, and I grew angry.

  Opening my laptop, I began to research Iris, the goddess of rainbows—a messenger goddess from long ago. It didn’t make sense, and yet, it did. The morning I found her exhausted in her car. The familiarity with a hidden height up the mountain. The illumination of her skin. She was definitely otherw
orldly. She was something other than me. At first, I thought she was either lying or deluded, but the way she spoke, the earnestness of her voice, slowly assured me, she was telling the truth. She wanted to give me honesty, and I refused it.

  She left me on that mountain. She left me again in the hospital. Kissing my forehead, she whispered: I’ve missed you, and I felt her leave me on a deeper level. I wanted to believe she meant she missed me, but I worried she meant him. Ben. The heart inside me raced with her nearness, and I struggled to decipher if she wanted me or longed for him. I knew of Ben Mitchell long before he stole my fiancé and died. He was a self-righteous socialite who loved himself more than others. I imagine Iris was his dirty little secret—an experiment with a darker side of life. Her colorful skin and midnight-black hair would be the opposite of the American girl his parents deemed proper. A rebel with a limited sense of cause, Ben played Iris before he rejected her. Mitchell Enterprises could not have a dark beauty beside their blond prince. Hensley Conrad was more the woman for him. The thought made me sick. I hated a man I’d never actually met.

  I cursed my new heart as the steady beat reminded me not to be upset. Because of him, I lived. Did my heart draw me to Iris? I didn’t want to believe it. I still made up my own mind. My body still had its own attraction. The heart was an organ, and I controlled it, but my heart was not my own, and I felt that each time it beat.

  There were plenty of other tattoo studios along the tourist strips, but I refused to quit.

  “If she doesn’t want me, she can fire me,” I snapped at Violet the day I returned to work. Violet blinked up at me with startled eyes, so similar, but not the same as Iris. Coming back had been a mistake, but I refused to run. I wanted Iris to face me, and tell me her story once again.

  “Did you know?” I questioned Violet, but she shook her head, mouth clamped, refusing to give details to my question. I hoped of learning more from Iris directly, but she outwitted me. For another week, she kept us separate on the schedule and her circle of protection shooed me out the door before Iris entered for an evening of message writing.

  Message writing?

  I paused next to my motorcycle, my helmet in mid-air at the end of another week. I raced back for the entrance, using my new key to open the studio. I passed through the darkened waiting room directly to the back room.

  “It’s true,” I blurted, bursting open the door and staring at the piles of lavender paper and discarded envelopes.

  “What is?” Violet asked innocently.

  “Why would she lie?” Molaiha asked, her Hawaiian accent thick as the glare in her dark eyes accused me of being a fool.

  “The heart only tells the truth,” Lorna said, without looking up from her paper.

  “What truth did she tell me?” I asked, rounding the table. Lorna sat up and straightened her glasses.

  “Do you think she can tell her story to anybody, Charlie? Think about it. It sounds crazy, right? A messenger. Rainbows. Goddesses. She sounds nuts. She could only tell that story to someone she trusted.”

  I swiped a hand through my hair, wanting to be angry that she hadn’t told me before we’d been together, and then equally angry at myself for not believing in her when I could see how hard it was for her to tell me. She tried to tell me, even when she was afraid she couldn’t trust me, and I’d proven her correct.

  “What did I do?” I whispered.

  “You’re a man. You acted like an idiot,” Violet answered, staring at me from her spot by a dresser with coffee mugs on the top. “It happens, often.”

  “How can I get her to understand?” I asked, stepping toward Violet, ignoring her sarcasm and needing her advice. Suddenly, it hit me. I was in the perfect place to seek advice on love, and the person I needed to seek it from most was their leader.

  “Write her a letter, Charlie. Ask her what to do.” Violet held out a piece of lavender paper and a traditional fountain pen. The thought seemed archaic, and then I realized the woman I loved was as well. I needed to win her over in a manner she might understand.

  13

  Iris

  I needed Riordan to quit Indigo Ink, and yet, he wouldn’t. He remained on our schedule, becoming quite popular with his classic details and modern designs. His work spoke for itself, and I couldn’t deny his talent. Nor his livelihood. He’d already had too many things taken from him—I didn’t want to deny his art. But being near Riordan was not an option for me. I worked the calendar so we would not be present at the same time, rearranging my own clients to accommodate his. I owed it to him.

  Find the one whose heart dances with the rain. Let love be his forgiveness. I still had not fulfilled this message, and I had another calling, this time a visit to Hades’ Den. It was rare that I was summoned to the dark side, seen only by special invite to humans. Hades’ Den was the nickname given to the rave circuit, an untraceable line of parties, hidden all over the island. Sometimes an abandoned condo building, often it was a hidden home up the route to Haleakala, but this time it was a secluded cave off a black sand beach. I still didn’t even know what the original message meant, but my mission included attendance at this party. Here I would find what I needed—I felt it deep inside, like the heat of sunshine as I traveled from Olympus.

  Violet went with me, as she sometimes did. The music blared. The candles pulsed. And hot, sweaty bodies danced. It was a wonder we weren’t caught, but either the police looked the other way, or some other force protected us. Islanders celebrated in the cool air found within the dark cave, but the steam of bodies pressed into one another stifled my thoughts. An orgy with clothing, Violet called these things.

  I’d lost her in the crowd, wandering as I waited for who would receive this message from me or who would give me additional hints to this mission. I sipped a rum cocktail, staring off at the mash-pit of bodies gyrating in unison when someone bumped me from behind. Spinning quickly, balancing my drink in hopes of not spilling it, I came face to face with my unfortunate enemy.

  “Iris,” sneered a voice I’d recognize in my nightmares.

  “Harper,” I squeaked.

  There were other girls like me, my sister, Harper, in fact being one of them. While I was a sleek, black-haired beauty in our modern times, Harper’s brunette style gave the impression of feathers on her hair. On either side of her beak-like nose, sharp, black eyes studied me.

  “Here for a message?” Her questioning tone sounded like the squawk of an eagle. She had the same destiny as me. As my fraternal twin, she was jealous of being in my shadow and had betrayed Olympus. Her loyalty lay with the Titans instead, and we found it best to ignore one another.

  “You know I can’t share that with you.” I took a sip of my drink, pretending I was bored with her presence when, in actuality, she made me nervous. It was better that we remained on opposite sides of a mythical line.

  “That’s too bad. We once shared everything, sister,” she chirped, as she leaned too close and my head snapped back as if she’d peck me. Harper was beautiful in her own right, but her tongue could lash like barbed wire, disguising her inner beauty. Her wings had been stripped from her, once upon a time, and I couldn’t imagine the pain of losing one’s destiny. My butterfly tattoo burned with the thought. Wearing a halter dress, heat pressed on the exposed skin of my shoulder blade. Harper’s eyes shot upward, and I spun when I realized a warm hand touched my damp skin.

  “Riordan,” I exhaled, my eyes opening wide at the handsome sight of his teasing, leaf-green eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “I received an invitation.” He nodded in the direction of Violet, who smiled sheepishly and turned away.

  “Who’s this?” Harper snarked, eying Riordan like the bird of prey she could be. She’d devour him after she tormented him with hints of pleasure, and my own wings fluttered at the thought. I didn’t want her near him.

  “No one,” I muttered, feeling him bristle beside me.

  “Riordan,” he offered, extending his hand. I reached for it befor
e Harper could touch him, awkwardly holding it in my own handshake-embrace. Harper’s eagle eyes didn’t miss the connection. Her neck tilted at a sharp, bird-like angle.

  “Hmm…someone special, I see. Hope the gods approve of this one.” A wicked smile graced her face, giving the impression of a demented angel. I squeezed Riordan’s fingers clenched in mine, lowering our hands to hang at my side. Taking my lead, he tugged me into his side. Colliding with his chest, I dropped my drink.

  “Oh, how clumsy of me!” I stared down at the liquid covering Harper’s feet. Her black-painted toenails curled under the cocktail.

  “You fool,” she whispered, stepping back. She spun with a flare of her skirt and disappeared into the crowd.

  “Why do I sense I’ve just met the Wicked Witch of the West?”

  Despite myself, I laughed at the analogy. Watching my sister stalk away, I held my breath. She could retaliate against me, but I had to hope she wouldn’t. She had her own affairs with humans, despite the gods’ directives.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked after my giggles died back.

  “I had to see you. You’re avoiding me.” He released me from his side, and I missed the connection, but staring into his saddened eyes, I knew it was for the best.

  “Not avoiding. Just letting you be.” I looked away, unable to take the piercing questions in his eyes.

  “I don’t want to be if it’s without you.” My head snapped back to face him, his words spoken with such raw honesty that they pinched my chest.

  “Charlie…”

  “Let me try to understand. Help me.” He reached for my hand, curling his fingers with mine.

  “I can’t. You need to forget me,” I said, spinning with hopes of drowning myself in the crowd. His thick fingers held tight, not allowing me to take half a step.