“Why is that, exactly? You don’t seem bad to me. You seem… well, pretty sweet actually, if not a little intimidating. You’ve done nothing but try to help me so far… that’s a lot more than Haedes.” I compliment her, trying to be honest, and she smiles.
“Awww, thanks. Well, my mother, Hecate, she was raped by one of the Gods of Ancient, before they lost power. Moloch.” She swallows hard, and I can tell she’s deeply affected by her lineage. “He’s my father. I was exiled from The Higher Plains for being half him, half inherently dark. My mother cut off my horns at birth… and I couldn’t stop using Alchemy… couldn’t silence the call to that type of magic. They were afraid of what someone with such a controversially mixed lineage could do in goddess form.”
“Well, I don’t care who your parents are. I care who you are now. People judging you for who you’re related to is just them not having the open mindedness to get to know you.” I spit out the sentiment, realising that I mean it more than I thought. I want to ask if her horns grew back a moment later, finding them very much intact, but then decide against it, worrying she’ll find me too intrusive.
My father was a business man who captured and tortured a merman, who traded my mother. Haedes is a god with less than a stellar reputation. But I’m not them. And anyone who thinks I am can go shove it up their ass.
“Thanks. That means more than you know,” Luce admits, swinging her feet as Sissy returns, measuring tape and black shimmering fabric in hand.
“Let’s get you dressed for this ball then, shall we?”
Back in my room I’m fully dressed, ready and anxious to get this ball over with. I’m wearing a glittering corseted suit jacket, which plunges low, revealing my deep cleavage, before flaring out at my hips and hanging far beneath my perky ass. Wide glittering black trousers hang from my hips, making me look dominant, almost like the ringmaster of a very kinky circus.
I complete the look with a top hat made of the same material, tilted on my head across from where my locks are pulled into a side bun just behind my ear. I’ve gone for dark makeup, making my eyes appear lighter than usual, and deep burgundy lipstick that plumps my lips. I bite the bottom one, checking myself out in the single mirror of the ensuite, and fighting a fleeting curiosity regarding what Xion will think when he sees me.
Then it occurs to me, I don’t even know if he’ll be there.
I feel a little naked, vulnerable even, but as I slip on a pair of pointed stilettos, I shrug it off, knowing it’s nothing more than longing for a familiar face in this brand-new world.
As the second shoe slips onto my slim heel, I hear a knock at the door, no doubt some servant come to collect me. I pace quickly across the slick floor, not wanting to be late as I shoot a glance at the violet sun over my shoulder. I find it hovering directly between my balcony doors as it continues in its eternal and unending circle across the sky, never rising or falling, but staying at the same height, always.
I pull the door open as soon as I reach it, the bronze handle cool against my skin.
“Oh… it’s you,” I stutter, shocked as Xion is revealed in the hallway outside.
“Yes… Uh, Luce asked me to come. For security reasons.” He’s wearing a thin black mask across the bridge of his nose, encrusted with red and black stones. His eyes shine out from the gaps in the fabric, molten as his heated gaze traces me from head to foot.
“Oh. That’s sensible I guess,” I mumble, feeling my heartbeat slow in my chest for some reason unknown to me.
He holds out a mask, his body bulging against a tux which must have been custom tailored. I mean, there’s no way he’s buying off the rack with a chest that broad. His tie is scarlet to match the stones in his mask, and I wonder if he’s noticed our outfits match perfectly.
“Here,” he gestures for me to take it.
I grasp the mask in my fingers, turning it over. It’s gold, with red and brown stones. Rubies and russet diamonds, I think. “The stones are representative of the sins of each person.”
“Really? What is your sin?” I ask him, and his expression becomes slack, his eyes boring into mine and making the world around us temporarily fade into triviality. He replies, simply, his sentiment dangerous as it falls from his lips in a single syllable.
“Wrath.”
The word causes a slight erotic shudder to wriggle up my spine.
“What about mine?” I query, slightly breathless and unable to tear my gaze from his as I feel my heart begin to race in my chest for absolutely no good reason. I don’t know why, I just can’t seem to help it. He looks so caught off guard at my question, like I’m asking him the most intimate thing anyone has ever dared.
He swallows hard before continuing, “Well, I mean, for the most part they represent sin, yours is just decorative though. It went with that dress Luce had made up for you. I told her you’d never wear it…” he’s rambling now, breaking the intense look between us as I tie the golden silk ribbon around my skull, tightening the rigid gold accessory against my face.
“Yeah, I’m not exactly the dress wearing kind,” I agree, and he nods.
“It’s a shame,” I hear him mumble, but ignore this sentiment as he holds out an arm to me.
I swear I see his hands visibly shaking as I loop my arm around his, resting my fingers just above his wrist, but ignore this also. I want simply to keep moving forward through the night’s forced conversation and choreographed interaction with as little emotional turmoil as possible.
“So where is this ball?” I demand, not remembering if the invitation had disclosed a location.
“That would be in the grand hall.” Xion clears his throat; his voice cracking with uncertainty in spite of the fact his answer is definitive. Is it possible he’s nervous too?
“Are you alright?” I ask, my voice harsher than I intend. He looks down to me as the question reaches him and smiles.
“Yes. I just hate formal occasions. They’re so boring. Dancing is the only thing that makes it bearable if you ask me,” he complains, and I nod.
“I agree. Promise me, even if we have the worst night ever, we’ll have at least one dance together towards the end? That way I’ll have something to look forward to.” I surprise myself at the offer, wondering if it’s the nerves causing me to act so sentimental. I’m never usually this weak.
“Alright. It’s a date,” he promises, causing me to blush in spite of myself. He also flushes at the sight of my reddening cheeks, and I cough as we both fall into silence for the rest of the walk through the sprawling labyrinth that is the Exilia Multum.
“There you are!” The striking of Dolly’s metal tipped stiletto heels against crystal rings out as she approaches in a flurry, her voice grating against my nerves.
“I’m sorry; there wasn’t a clock in my room,” I apologise, feeling not at all bad that I’m late. I can only follow the instructions, however vague, on the invitation I’ve been given. “You’ll get used to that. It’s packed in there already. Come, come, come!” She swoops behind me and Xion, still wearing her black shirt and pencil skirt. She’s holding a slightly fancier clipboard, and there’s a crystal pen hooked behind her ear, which I notice catches the light as she ushers us down the corridor. The persistent sounding of her stupid heels sets me even more on edge as she quickens her pace, like each step represents a countdown to my impending doom.
“Open the doors!” she screeches out as we reach the height of the staircase I’d ascended earlier upon arrival. At the top, though I hadn’t noticed before, two doors which seem to fade out of existence and into the wall itself are hauled open by no less than six sinners.
They stare at Xion and me, though I can’t tell what their expressions are supposed to convey. They look almost hungry, like I’m a meal.
“Don’t make eye contact with the envy sinners. Come, come, come!” Dolly continues to screech in my ear and I roll my eyes. She’s worse than my old dormitory mistress.
“Now, enter!” She gives Xion and me a firm shove
, embedding several of her long-nailed fingers in both our spines. I almost trip over the flared hem of my shimmering pants, but Xion catches me, as a sudden hush falls where before there was small talk, the sounds of clinking glasses, and the slurp of what appears to be champagne.
The room, which we are unceremoniously pushed into, is enormous as I expected. The facets of the smoky quartz capture the bright red light cast by many flaming sconces, making the space seem cosy. I examine the space further and find silvery lilac and black drapes hanging from each and every wall. There’s black tables full of silver plates and platters, stacked high with food, and the glasses atop the trays of multiple gaunt-faced waiters gleam in platinum, throwing red light in random and sporadic flashes.
I want to spend longer looking, but I can’t as the silence becomes unbearable. Hundreds of faces turn to Xion and me, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do next. As I’m about to flush, Luce steps forward out of the crowd to save me, dressed in a plum gown with onyx spattered ivory mask resting over her pale blue eyes.
“I’d like you all to make the acquaintance of our newest demi-goddess, Sephy Sinclair.” She holds out a hand, gesturing toward me like I’m some kind of amazing monument that’s just been erected.
Suddenly, the room fills with applause.
I can’t help but smile, feeling wanted at least temporarily. I scan the crowd, trying to find him, curious and wanting to rip off the band aid. This waiting is slow and torturous. I wish he’d just make himself known to me and get it over with.
As the applause dies down, I notice that there’s no music in the background. There doesn’t even appear to be a sound system, only a stage at the far end of the room, covered by curtains that match the drapes.
An enormous crystal chandelier dangles and I watch it sway to and fro, hypnotised slightly, before realising someone is trying to talk to me as Xion gives me a slight nudge.
The crowd has surrounded me, not that I’ve noticed. I’ve been too busy trying to pick out anyone who could be Haedes.
“I’m sorry, what?” I turn my attention to the man who is directly in front of me, blinking once, then twice, wondering how I hadn’t noticed him.
“I said, it’s nice to finally meet my cousin…” He looks unimpressed, his blue eyes glittering against tanned skin which only makes his strawberry blonde hair lighter as it falls, long and feathered around his head in a halo. I don’t understand what he’s talking about, and so give him a questioning look as I examine his ridiculously over the top and muscular body.
“I’m Hercules… you know, twelve labours. My God, what do they teach you lame ass mortals in schools these days? You’ve never heard of me?”
He’s a smart ass, that’s for sure, and his biceps seem to be larger than his brain. I cock an eyebrow.
“Oh sure, you’re the son of Zeus, right? Aren’t you half mortal?” I query, wondering why he hates mortals so much if he is one.
“Not any more. My mortal half died long ago, I’m a Titan now, and it’d do you good to learn your place here and fast. You’re just a demi-goddess. You have a long way to go before you even get to being in my meek position.” He puffs his chest out with pride, and I give him a disinterested expression.
“Is that supposed to impress me? Like, I don’t give a shit who your father is. Or whether you’re a mighty Titan. As for you being my cousin, I can’t see the resemblance. All I see is a jumped up little jackass with bad hair, ridiculous muscles that make him look like a balloon animal, and someone in dire need of a mental upgrade.” His mouth pops open as I push past him, making sure to use my sharp pointy elbows to knock his thick arm out of the way.
Xion smirks.
“I think you might be my most favourite person in the world right now,” he whispers, and I wonder if he might be attempting sarcasm.
“What? He’s a prick!” I exclaim, and Xion continues to laugh.
“Oh, we all know it, but nobody has the balls to actually say that,” he expresses, amused beyond what I’d thought was possible for his usually stoic face.
“Well, I don’t give a shit who you are. You don’t talk to me like that, ever.”
“I like that,” he whispers in my ear, causing a shudder to run up my spine. There’s a darkness to his comment, almost like some sort of taboo promise that makes me squirm in the most delicious way possible.
It’s been too long since I got laid; I’m getting restless. I curse, wondering how easy it is to pick up a guy in hell…
“Persephone.” A familiar and entirely blue face enters my field of vision, spinning from my right to greet me. I turn, taking his hand in mine and shaking. His skin is smooth like a baby’s beneath his bronze mask, and I make a mental note to ask him later if he moisturises or not.
“Yama.” I nod, formally greeting him in return.
“This is Anubis, and her son, Osiris,” he introduces the two figures who he’s just been speaking with.
They take measured steps forward, the woman’s golden skin shimmering orange under the light of a nearby sconce. Anubis has long inky hair, and is wearing a long white gown with a cage of gold wrapping around her torso over the top. Her son smiles at me; his skin a slightly dirty shade of bronze. Both their eyes are wide and dark, surrounded by heavy liner with matching cobalt masks, and they have straight noses which define their profile more than anything else about them. Anubis is wearing sapphire coloured lipstick, and the two of them examine me with interest as her lips spread over her teeth in a smile.
“Hello.”
I give a small wave, not sure whether or not this is entirely appropriate.
“Welcome. I see that Xion is at your side… how wonderful.” Anubis comments, though there’s an undercurrent to her tone that tells me she’s not glad at all.
What, is she jealous?
I’d think as a goddess she could wrangle any man she wanted, even one who’s half demon.
“Uh, yes, he’s my security.”
“And luggage boy,” Xion adds with a smirk, and Osiris laughs behind his mother. He’s dressed in long white robes and his ears are pointed against his skull. His face is long and his cheekbones sharp as razorblades. I feel like I could say something to him, and he wouldn’t be entirely awful, but as for Anubis, I’m sceptical at best.
“How wonderful for your… luggage. You’ll have to come see us at The Icon.” She extends the invite, and I frown… wanting to ask what the hell The Icon is, but being interrupted by the beginning of one of the most familiar songs in the world.
The crowd turns, matching my motion as I spin away from the three Nexus members with whom I have absolutely zero in common, and Michael Jackson’s Thriller blasts out into the room.
Overhead, from nowhere, a cloud of mist appears, hanging like a thick, magical fog canopy over the space. I wonder if this is some kind of mystical flash storm but soon realise with surprise that it’s the source of the music.
“Oh Jesus.” I hear Xion mutter under his breath. He clutches my hand in his suddenly, and it is with this rough touch that I’m immediately afraid.
What’s going on?
The curtains at the far end of the room pull back, revealing a stage holding a troupe of dancers, all dressed in black with trilby hats. In the centre of them all he stands, unmistakable.
Haedes.
My father.
He begins to move, grabbing an old-fashioned microphone and singing along with the words. His hair is an eccentric cobalt, slicked back against his skull, and his face is androgyny made flesh. His body is edgy, too quick, slick even, in its rhythm as he dances along with the nostalgic beat and the troupe works with a seeming effortlessness behind him.
I’m transfixed by his motion, by the way he moves, by his voice. The dancers behind him might as well not be there as he has undoubtedly captured the attention of every single person, mortal or god, in the room.
His suit is indigo, his shoes white and mask slim and black, only highlighting the extreme architecture of hi
s skull. I continue to stare, stunned as the musical number continues. It’s utterly ridiculous, completely insane, and yet for some reason I can’t help but grin from ear to ear. This is me in so many ways.
He leaps off the stage, bringing his knees high up to his chest like Swayze in Dirty Dancing, indicating that the crowd should part. Without argument, as he struts forward, it does.
I’m left, standing in the centre of an empty aisle that’s formed by two crowds of people. I want to move, to disappear into one of them, either one is fine, but it’s too late.
Haedes’ eyes rest on me, their depths stormier grey than I thought possible, and he takes several strides forward, his feet striking the crystal floor with each rhythmic beat of the song. He holds out his arms, and I’m helpless to resist. I pull my hand from Xion’s nervous grasp behind me, taking a few steps forward toward him whilst keeping in time with the music.
His arms come up to my hips, and he begins to spin me across the floor as though it’s no more than liquid smoke, and we are weightless as the memories of those we’ve lost.
I look into his face, but where his body and voice are the most expressive entities I’ve ever seen, his eyes are not.
He looks tired as he stares back at me, devastated even. I wonder if I’m a disappointment, not that I care. I don’t owe him anything.
Taking the situation for exactly what it is, a distraction from the pain of meeting an estranged daughter, I let go of trying to analyse everything and dance with him, enjoying every second without expectation until the final beat of the song is upon us.
I turn to him, slightly out of breath and look him straight in the eyes. As the song fades to nothing, I introduce myself, realising I’m going to have to be the one to instigate this, even if I have no desire to.
“I’m Sephy.” I hold out a hand, which he looks at blankly but doesn’t take.
“I know who you are. Thank you for being here tonight. Now, I must go and greet my other guests. I’ll be back to speak with you later on.” He is polite, giving me a dashing smile before strutting away and becoming but a head of cobalt hair in a sea of formal wear and fake smiles.
The Opal Blade (The Ashen Touch Trilogy Book 1) Page 22