“Was it necessary for you to invite Ares and Hephaestus?”
“What’s wrong with you? You know I can’t invite Hera and not invite her boys.”
I prop myself up on my elbows. “Are you forgetting what happened at my last party because of them?”
At my last seventeenth birthday, mom threw me a Hawaiian themed party and Ares ruined it. He always wanted to fight or pick fights. Ares is moodier than a teenage girl during that time of the month and it never takes much to set him off. I don’t remember what led him and Hephaestus to fight, but I do remember Ares tackling his brother, knocking one of the tiki torches over, and setting the whole table of food on fire.
Mom is standing in the doorway. “Hera promised me they would behave this year.”
“Fine,” I grumble, getting to my feet.
Mom smiles. “Come down when you’re ready.”
I smile back, walking over to my closet as she makes her exit.
I select a yellow flowered sundress. Then I make a mental note, telling myself to push all of my thoughts involving Hades to the side. Right now, I’m going to put on a happy face and pretend like I’m enjoying this party.
Descending down the stairs, the lower portion of our house is a flooded river of bodies. The chatter is so loud is makes the walls vibrate. Mom invited so many people that the guests can barely move. I watch Iris as the ivory skin around her violet eyes crinkles. She’s wedged in between Apollo and Poseidon, trying to squeeze through them to get to the food table on the opposite side of the room.
Strips of purple crepe paper hang down from the wooden beams on the ceiling and tiny twinkling lights flash, bordering the walls. A massive banner is plastered above the fireplace that reads; Happy Birthday, Persephone.” On the last step, I search the faces in the crowd for mom. Then all of sudden, I stumble back, catching myself by gripping the solid oak rails as Dionysius’s bulging belly rams into my hip. “Whoa!” I straighten myself out, catching my balance.
He turns to face me, a wide smile on his lips and a twinkle in his brown eyes. “Oh, Persephoonnee!” he slurs. Dionysius wobbles closer and breathes heavily. His breath smells musty and sweet, like fermented grapes. He’s drunk. He raises his right hand, clutching a half-empty green bottle of wine. “Care for a drink, birrrthday girrrl,” he mumbles.
“No thanks,” I say politely. I’ve never been much of a drinker.
He brings the bottle to his lips. “Great. More for me.”
As I weave through the crowd I glimpse at him over my shoulder as he’s stumbles, falling face first into the floor. He’s out cold. A wave of relief flushes through me. Dionysius is overly obnoxious when he’s drunk and I’m pretty sure everyone at this party will be thrilled to learn he’s cashed in early.
Several people wish me a “Happy Birthday” as I continue pushing through the crowd. I assume mom will be in the kitchen, so I head in that direction, but I stop when I feel someone tug on my arm. I try to turn, but I’m smooshed in between Artemis and Hestia. They are both engaged in deep discussions and despite me pushing on them they barely move. I feel like a hamburger patty, smashed between two buns. Ketchup, cheese and pickles, anyone?
I’m jolted forward, yanked out of my Persephone sandwich and a pair of steel grey eyes rest on me. “Athena!” I squeal and throw myself into her open arms.
“Happy birthday!” she shouts over the noise. Her golden hair is slicked back into a ponytail and she beams as she stands up straight.
“Where have you been?” I lean in close to her, shouting, “It’s been ages!”
“You know, lending my wisdom to those who need it!”
I stifle a glance around the room. “Does mom know you’re here?”
“Yeah! I saw her when I first arrived. I think she’s with Hera in the kitchen. I thought it would be best if I kept my distance!”
Eros shoves his way through the crowd. His pouch of arrows, resting against his back, nudges me and sends me forward. Athena catches me by the shoulders and steadies me as someone turns on the stereo. Music pumps through the room and the mingling turns into a mosh-pit as some of the guests begin dancing. I put my lips close to Athena’s ear. “Is she in one of her moods?”
Athena leans close to my ear. “Who, Hera?”
I back away and nod.
Athena looks at me earnestly. “When isn’t she?”
“True,” I agree. I’ve known Hera my whole life and she was always mad or complaining about something.
Athena turns her attention to the guests. “I’m gonna go flirt with Apollo,” she tells me. “I’ll catch ya later.”
“Later.”
As make my way to the kitchen, I hear Athena shout, “Hey Apollo! Looking good!”
Mom and Hera stand in front of the kitchen door. Mom says something to Hera and Hera laughs. I approach them and Hera narrows her eyes and tucks a piece of her fiery hair behind her ear. “Would you look at Aphrodite?” she harrumphs. “That Goddess has no shame!”
Glancing over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Aphrodite, who is wearing next to nothing. A denim skirt that cuts off right below her butt cheeks and a top that shows her midriff. She’s enclosed by a circle of admirers and I hear her infectious, flirtatious laugh. She playfully slaps the shoulder of one of the men. I’m assuming he just said something funny.
Mom laughs at Hera’s comment. “Hera, one day I swear your jealousy will eat you alive.”
“I am not jealous,” Hera snaps. Of course she’d never admit it. “I have morals.”
I roll my eyes, looking away, and mutter, “Right.”
“I have a surprise for you,” mom pipes up.
“A surprise? What kind of surprise?”
Mom beams. “I invited Charis and Chloe.”
“Really?” I stare into the crowd of party guests. “Where are they?”
“Where else would they be? They’re outside.”
Charis and Chloe are twins, a pair of identical wood nymphs. Back in ancient Greece they were my best friends. They were immortal like me, and centuries ago they left Greece too.
“Ugh. Wood nymph’s,” Hera scoffs.
For a second, I think about giving Hera a piece of my mind. Isn’t there anybody that she likes? Isn’t there anybody that she doesn’t look down upon? She thinks that because she’s married to Zeus, she can treat people how she wants to, with disrespect. Maybe that was okay five thousand years ago, but this is the 21st century. Times have changed. Instead, I remain tight-lipped, dashing through the sliding back door.
Persephone
“Charis! Chloe!” I shout, hopping down the cement steps of the back porch. “I know you guys are out here!” Cautiously, I march toward the edge of the forest that encircles our house, eyes darting across a sea of evergreen and brown. I stop, squinting, trying to get a clearer view of the carved out muddy path, fenced in by the trees the size of skyscrapers.
Two heads covered in a mass of thick black curls emerge from the trees, excitement sparkling in their chocolate brown eyes as they sprint toward me. “Persephone!” They squeal in unison.
I open my arms and the twins’ crash into me, hard, so hard that I stumble backwards and almost tumble to the ground. “Whoa! Easy!” Regaining my balance I begin to back away and Chloe pulls away first, followed by Charis.
Charis steps to her left, her olive skin shimmering like droplets of molten gold in the sunlight. A stranger would never be able to tell which twin was which. Through the years Charis and Chloe had always thought it was comical to play the switcheroo game with people they didn’t know. But they’ve never been able to fool me.
Chloe has a nervous tick. Whenever she feels uneasy or worried, she rolls her thumbs and Charis has a small speckle of a beauty-mark just below her right eye. Chloe has one too, but Charis’s is just a little bit bigger.
“The last time we saw you was—,” Charis reminisces.
“Two hundred years ago,” I say finishing her sentence.
“It’s so good to s
ee you,” Chloe pipes up. “We’ve missed you.”
“I missed you guys too.”
The last time I saw the twins we were living in London. Well, I was living in London. They lived in some cottage, set deep in the English Countryside. Wood Nymphs could never live in the city. They belonged outdoors, amongst rolling green hills, trees, and wildflowers galore. I’d also longed for that life. I’d longed to suck in fresh, clean air in place of smog and smoke. I’d longed to pick wildflowers all day without a care in the world, instead of being cooped in a London flat. I’d longed to lie in the long grass on one of those rolling green hills, feeling a brush as a gentle breeze swept through the field and the grass tickled my skin.
I hated the fact that mom kept me hidden away from the beauty of the earth. The same earth that she’d taught me to love and appreciate. I stare off, trance-like caught up in my past memories. Chairs and Chloe’s feet rustle against the grass, but I’m not paying attention. Then I lift my head slowly, and the most beautiful flower catches my eye. “What is that?”
Sunlight peaks through the trees and at the edge of my yard, and the flower glimmers a glowing white with pink splotches slathered along the inside of it. I know every flower that grows on every continent. I can name every plant and I know their purposes. But this flower…
I’ve never seen and flower like it, and I don’t know what it is.
Lurching forward, mesmerized, Charis and Chloe’s footsteps pound behind me, but I don’t pay attention.
“What are you looking at?” Chloe inquires.
I lift a finger, placing it against my lips, silencing Chloe with the gesture and stop at the edge of the left corner of my yard. The flower grows beneath a massive redwood tree. The white and pink speckled petals are magnetic, they draw me closer. They are the metal and I am the magnet.
Charis throws herself in front of me and her forcefulness startles me. I jump backwards, panting. “What are you doing?”
Charis glances between me and the flower. “What are you doing?” she asks, shooting me a glare, eyes filled with accusation.
“What am I doing? I’m going to pick that flower, that’s what I’m doing.”
“Why would you want to pick that thing?” Charis glances over her shoulder and wrinkles her nose, then looks at me. “It’s just a stupid flower.”
I can’t even fathom the fact that she’s not blown away by the beauty of it. The single, solitary flower, resting only feet in front of me is the most breathtakingly beautiful flower I’ve ever seen. Balling my hands into fists I place them on my hips. “If it’s just a stupid flower I don’t know why you’re standing in front of me trying to keep me from picking it,” I retort.
Either one of two things is going on; either Charis knows more about this flower than she’s letting on, or she’s just trying to be difficult. I know the way the twins feel about nature and its balance. They preferred that mortals and Gods alike just left things be. Back in Greece, I recalled how upset they used to get when workers would chop down trees to build ships. I’d spent hours consoling them after one of those occasions.
“It’s not just any flower,” Chloe adds.
I glare at Chloe. “What do you mean it’s not just any flower? What is it called?”
“Shhhh!” Charis snaps.
I lurch forward, closer, narrowing my eyes suspiciously. “What is going on?” They are definitely keeping something from me and I intend to find out what that something is. “Never mind,” I snap. “I don’t need to know what it’s called.” All I know is that it would look lovely in a vase on my nightstand.
Charis points over her shoulder. “Don’t you think it’s odd that they’re no other flowers growing around it?”
Craning my head over her shoulder, I shrug. “No. Not all flowers grow in patches or together.”
“Okay,” says Charis. “Don’t you find it odd that you don’t know what kind of flower it is?”
I’m stumped by that one. Yes, I do think it’s a little strange that I’ve never seen the flower before, but every time I look catch a glimpse of it, I can’t help but feel the overwhelming urge to pick it. I throw my hands up into the air in fake frustration. “Fine,” I grumble, pretending to give up. “I’ll just go find some other flowers to pick.”
I head to the opposite side of the yard, stopping half-way when I realize the twins aren’t following me. Twisting around partly, I slant my eyes at them. “What is with you two? I said I’m going to pick some more flowers. Don’t you want to join me?”
The twins exchange awkward glances, but still don’t move.
Annoyed, I turn all the way around. Chloe stares at me and starts rolling her thumbs. “We know you,” she says uneasily. “At times, you’re a bit stubborn.”
Charis chimes in, “I think what Chloe is trying to say is; we know that you always try to get what you want. You’ve never, in all the years we’ve known you, have given up so easily on something you want. And right now, I know you want to pick this flower. And you can’t pick it. We won’t let you.”
Her statement makes my mind churn like homemade butter. I think back to a time during my childhood in Ancient Greece. Mom had taken to me to a field and was teaching me about various types of plants and what their purposes were. We came across a poisonous type of plant growing in the brush just along the edge of the forest. Its leaves were green with bright red splotches in the center and thorns sharpened to a point lined its’ muted green stem.
“Don’t touch that,” mom had warned me. “The toxins in that plant will hurt you.”
But me, being the forever curious child that I was, well, I touched it anyway. I should have listened to mom. I pricked my finger on one of the thorns, drawing blood and an intense warmth surged through me as a fever overtook me. Not long after that I was trembling from the chills.
Mom shook her head, disappointed while I stood there crying my eyes out. “I told you,” she’d said, scolding me before she carried me up to Mount Olympus and nursed me back to health.
My mouth drops open and my eyes widen. Mostly, I’m in shock, surprised by how right on Charis is. I guess being a Goddess and an only child sometimes allows me to act like I’m entitled to certain things. “Do you honestly think I’d fight you for it?”
Charis’s eyes harden. “Yes. I do.”
“Fine.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Would you two just forget about it and come with me so I can find some other flowers to pick.” I start walking. “Or I can just go by myself.”
The twins still don’t move and I’ve had enough.
I jog over to Charis planting my feet firmly into the ground in front of her. “Alright. Somebody better tell me what’s going on. What has got you two so worried?”
Chloe looks at Charis then at me. She points to the flower. “That flower shouldn’t be growing here.”
I’m confused and baffled and I find it comical that these two are educating me on this flower when I should be the one educating them. “Why? Flowers grow in places like this all the time.” Charis and Chloe exchange another glance. I sigh, frustrated. This whole little game is getting exhausting. Why all the wary looks and hidden innuendos? “Someone please tell me!”
“That flower doesn’t grow on earth,” Chloe says quietly.
“What do you mean it doesn’t grow on earth?” I make a hand-gesture toward the flower. “It looks like it’s growing to me.”
“What my sister means is that flower should not be growing on earth,” Charis adds.
I frown and tap my foot. “Well, who planted it there then?”
Charis shrugs. “I don’t know.”
At the moment, I decide that I’m taking this matter into my own hands. Marching ahead, I shove Charis out of the way. There is only one way to find out what is so damn special about this flower. I’ll just pick it and find out.
But Charis doesn’t let me get that far. Seconds after I’ve shoved her out of the way, she’s on her feet, rushing toward me. She barrels into my side
and knocks me to the ground. I squirm beneath her, loosening my arm and I punch her in the side. She winces, clutching her ribcage and falls on the ground next to me. On my knees, I crawl toward the flower and once I finally reach it, I place my thumb and forefinger on the stem. I start pulling and then Chloe shrieks, “Stop! Picking that flower is a bad omen!”
I sit back, my fingers still on the stem. “What do you mean a bad omen? Don’t you think I’d know if picking the flower was a bad omen?”
“No,” says Chloe. “Like Charis said earlier, you don’t what kind of flower it is.”
“Just don’t pick it,” Charis grumbles, still clutching her side, struggling to sit up.
Asphodel (The Underworld Trilogy) Page 6