Marlowe bowed and stepped away from them, but Theo heard him mutter under his breath as he did so, “—what he’ll say when he gets here. He is my friend, after all.”
“What did you say?” she called after him.
“Nothing, darling,” said Julian, taking her arm and walking her away from the frowning Marlowe. They came face to face with Dr. Waterman, arm-in-arm with a woman.
Theo couldn’t help staring. Dr. Waterman’s companion was almost as beautiful as Renee, with elegant upswept hair and delicate features, all a soft pale green. She wore darker green robes that complimented her skin, and a necklace of enormous pearls. She smiled sweetly at Theo.
“Julian,” Dr. Waterman acknowledged. “Theo.” His face was expressionless.
“Arthur. And Amphitrite! How lovely to see you, my dear. So kind of you to come on such short notice. Theodora, my darling, this is my dear brother’s wife, Amphitrite. ’Trite, may I present my beloved Theodora?”
“Welcome, Theodora.” Her voice was soft and musical. “Arthur has spoken often of you and your kind care of his pets.”
“Thank you.” Theo took the woman’s outstretched hands in hers. Her skin was warm and supple, but something about it was not quite right. With a little start Theo realized that the backs of her hands, her arms, and indeed much of her that was visible was covered in the tiniest of scales.
“I have a present for you. A little gift from my home, to welcome you here.” She reached into a fold of her robe and took out another strand of pearls, as magnificent as her own. She reached up and fastened them around Theo’s neck. “There. I think they become you. Wear them often. They become sad if you do not.”
“Thank you,” Theo breathed, touching them in awe.
“Thank you, ’Trite. It is a lovely gift for my bride,” Julian said warmly. Theo saw him look at Dr. Waterman as he spoke. Dr. Waterman did not meet his eyes.
“And how nice it is to see all three brothers here. I have not seen so many of our kin gathered together in many years,” Amphitrite continued. Theo followed her gaze and saw Dr. Bellow standing in a corner, hovering possessively over a woman she recognized as the President of the university’s secretary. Ah, yes, of course
“Not everyone is here tonight,” put in Dr. Waterman. He glanced at Julian as he spoke. “I didn’t see June arrive.”
Julian shrugged, but a faint line appeared between his brows. “I didn’t expect her to. I believe that she had plans to visit the Bahamas this week, so it’s not surprising that she isn’t back yet. But now that you mention it, we do all seem to be here. Almost all, anyway.”
Just then, the Great Room door banged open. The candelabra flew into the corners of the room, trying to shield each other from the gust of air that rushed in. From outside she heard the clock in the tower chime eight times.
“Ah,” Julian said with satisfaction. “I think our company is now complete.” He took Theo’s hand and kissed it. “Shall we continue greeting our guests, my dear? Perhaps some refreshment first.”
He held out a hand, and a large crystal goblet appeared in it, brimming with gold. He held it to her lips and she drank his ambrosia-laden wine, feeling a fresh wave of blissful blankness course through her body. Julian smiled as she drank, his turquoise eyes caressing.
It was too bad Dr. Waterman did not approve of her new estate; his displeasure had been evident. But what did that matter? Everyone else had been delighted with her—Paul, Renee, Marlowe her euphoria slipped a little. Maybe not Marlowe. But everyone else.
The candles emerged from their corner and redistributed themselves once more as Theo and Julian moved back to the center of the room. They illuminated the nervously conversing knots of guests that had gathered at a distance in a rough circle around one trio.
Theo saw that Marlowe was one of the three. His dark beard, usually so extravagantly full and curling, looked disheveled. As she watched him, she saw why: he kept reaching up to tug at it with an anxious air of abstraction. She wanted to call out to him to leave it alone before he tugged it out by the roots, and had actually opened her mouth to do so. But Julian spoke first.
“Welcome, guests! I’m delighted you were able to come,” he cried in his richest, fullest tone.
The three of them turned. For the first time Theo noticed that two of them wore not togas or himations, but normal twenty-first-century street clothes. That was surprising. Julian was a stickler for proper attire at symposia. But their lack of costume didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, he looked positively elated at the sight of them: his eyes were shining with suppressed glee, and he held himself proudly erect.
The tall woman wore a smartly cut gray worsted pantsuit. Her hair was short and curling around a face that was handsome rather than beautiful. Calm gray eyes surveyed them coolly.
“Thank you, Father. It’s nice to be back, if only for a visit. You’re looking well,” she replied in a clear, silvery voice.
Father? What? Theo looked up at Julian and saw his mouth twist a little. If this woman was his daughter, that meant she was a goddess. A little bubble of pleased excitement expanded in her chest. Athena had always been her favorite goddess, and now here she was…but why was her greeting so chilly and strained?
She turned back to the newcomers. Her euphoria fled as she met the wide, shocked eyes of the third person standing there, and memory—all of her memory—returned to her in a sickening, choking flood.
It was Grant.
Chapter Fourteen
“How clever of you to arrive at this moment, my friends,” Julian continued. “You’re just in time to meet my beloved consort and hear our announcement. Theodora, this is one of our former professors, now of the famed Eleusinian Institute. May I present my daughter, Olivia Weaver?”
“Oh, cut the horse hockey, Julian,” Olivia said. “What do you think you’re up to?” She looked at Theo, and her brows contracted.
“And I believe you already know Mr. Proctor,” Julian continued, taking her hand and raising it to his lips as he stared at Grant.
Theo stared also, still struggling under the torrent of thoughts and words and memories that threatened to submerge her completely. Grant. She’d forgotten Grant. This was what she had been struggling to remember. No. This was not—this was not what she—Grant! Images flashed through her mind like lightning: Grant’s dimples as he spun her stories of orating moose, his eyes wide and wondering after their first kiss, his elegant beauty wrapped in a snowy white toga one November night, the agony in his face as he sat in the faculty lounge drinking that foul-smelling liquid.
But that was nothing to the pain that she saw in him now. “Grant,” she whispered. More memories flooded back. She was supposed to meet him here tonight, to discuss—to discuss—
Olivia was still looking at her with that small frown. “I’m waiting, Pops. What are you up to now?” she said, more sharply.
Through a haze, Theo heard Julian wince at the “Pops.” “If you would all care to come closer, I’ll be happy to tell you ‘what’s up’ as Olivia so elegantly puts it,” he said, voice raised to reach all the guests. He slipped his arm around Theo and held her tight against his side.
“Don’t you touch me!” she shouted, twisting away from him. Julian! He’d done this all on purpose—had drugged her, raped her, kept her so befuddled that she could hardly remember her own name. And wiped Grant from her mind—the man she truly cared for—
“Theodora!” Julian’s hand came down on her shoulder like a vise. He pulled her back against him and held her there; no amount of struggling could break his hold. She stood tensed, gasping, and stared at Grant and...Olivia? This was Grant’s Olivia? Pallas Athena, chaste goddess of wisdom and war? This handsome but rather stern-looking woman was the Olivia she had feared and hated sight unseen?
“I would again like to thank you all for coming this evening,” Julian began, intruding on her fevered thoughts. He smiled tenderly down at her. “Theodora and I are delighted that you could all be here w
ith us tonight to acknowledge and celebrate our union.”
Theo turned her face, feeling physically ill. Grant’s face contorted and he made a sudden movement. Olivia put a hand on his arm.
“It is not often that we meet a mortal worthy to enter our ranks. I can think of few of them over the last several centuries. And so it is with the greatest happiness that I present my Theodora to you. Of course, many of you already know her as student, colleague, friend. I have the unique privilege of knowing her as those things, plus more: lover, immortal, and now soon-to-be-wife.”
“No,” she whispered.
“Indeed,” Julian continued, “in the future, I hope and plan to present her to you in another role, one I think she is as ideally suited to as the others: mother of my children.”
There was a murmur of voices around the room as this last statement was absorbed. Theo stared up at Julian in shock.
“After the week Theodora and I have just spent together, I would not be surprised if this were to happen sooner rather than later,” he confided with an arch smile. Someone tittered nervously.
On the edge of her field of vision Theo saw Grant’s face turn gray. She tried once again to twist from Julian’s grasp but he held her immobilized against him. He tilted her face up to his and kissed her as he had done just now outside the Great Room door, but with even greater relish. She whimpered.
“I knew as soon as I met this young woman that she was extraordinary,” Julian continued, gazing down at her. “As I came to know and then love her, a dream came to me, a dream that I knew only she would be able to help me accomplish. From our union will be born a new race of heroes, heroes who will help us introduce a new Olympian Age. Once again we will take our proper place and reign over a world set right. With my Theodora, I will give this to you.”
Someone cheered then. And then someone else. In a few seconds all the gathered guests were clapping, with a few exceptions. Dr. Waterman was sadly shaking his head, his arm tight around Amphitrite. Marlowe was clapping, but his smile had a sardonic edge to it. Olivia actually looked amused as she looked at Julian. And Grant—
With a supreme effort, she wrenched away from Julian and ran to Grant, tearing off her veil and oak wreath as she did so. She caught him just as he seemed about to collapse. “Grant!” she cried fiercely. He sagged against her, and she remembered the feel of him in her arms, more ruggedly built than Julian, less elegant of form but so real, so right.
“Theodora!” Julian called over the fading shouts and cheers. He stalked over to them and tried to pull her away from Grant.
Theo clung to him. “No!” she shouted into the now-silent room. “You tricked me, Julian. You seduced me into forgetting Grant. But it’s Grant whom I love.” She held Grant’s shaking form against her shoulder and stared defiantly at Julian.
“Tricks? Deception?” Julian laughed softly. “I know nothing of such things. For that you must consult the master deceiver, our esteemed Mr. Proctor.”
“What has he ever done to you?” she demanded. Grant’s body tensed.
“I’ll tell you, my dear. Didn’t you know he and I were colleagues of old?”
“He said that he’d met you before.”
“Had met me? Oh, that’s rich!” Julian’s laugh rolled over her. Grant stirred and tried to pull away from her, but she gripped him harder.
“Grant had more than met me. He is my cousin. He once fought under my banner and rendered me an inestimable service. Once, indeed, I called him friend and mentor. I, Theodora. I called him these things, and looked on him as a wiser elder brother.”
“Grant?” she said uncertainly, pulling back to look at him.
He did not meet her eyes. “Yes, it’s true.”
Julian’s voice became low and venomous. “But it happened that one day we disagreed. My dearest friend, my wise elder brother had found something he cared for more—something noisy, troublesome, and crude. When I would have rid creation of this pestilential thing, he defended it and gave it the one thing that would keep it from perishing of its own stupidity—stole it from me. Some say he had help” —he glared briefly at Olivia— “though that has never been proven.”
“Oh, get over it, Julian,” Olivia sighed. “So he gave fire to man. You got more than your own back on him. Thirty thousand years chained to a rock while a vulture eats your liver out every day would seem to me more than adequate punishment for any crime.”
Theo felt Grant jerk and nearly dropped him; only her new divine reflexes kept him upright, for her mind was wheeling. She stared at him, and read the truth in his eyes.
“Yes, Prometheus’s punishment was sweet to me. And it was sweet to let my son Heracles be the one to release him: it made me look magnanimous. But even thirty thousand years of torture could not wipe out the insult. He had defied me. I let him come back to Olympus after Heracles set him free, let him resume his seat of honor. But he never resumed his place in my heart: as before I had loved him, so now I hated him. When our reign as the gods ended, I didn’t weep to see him leave. In time I assumed he had faded away to nothing, like so many other gods have.”
Grant looked up at Julian and his back straightened. “I, fade away? I was probably the one Olympian least likely to do that.”
“Why should I assume that? I thought you’d been dead for fifteen hundred years. I knew when you arrived here that you were an immortal. But the world is crawling with little gods who slink from life to life like beetles, trying to keep from being squashed. Only when it was clear you were interfering with Theodora did I take the trouble to learn which stinking little insect of a godling you were.”
“A stinking little insect of a godling whose bite still stings, doesn’t it?” Grant shot back. “And you didn’t learn who I was till just recently. So much for being all-seeing.”
Theo expected Julian to attack Grant; his nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed to slits as he glared at him. She drew herself up, prepared to shield Grant with her body if necessary. But then Julian’s face relaxed, and he smiled an unpleasant smile.
“Yes, you are right. I did just find out who you are. But I found out a few other interesting facts about you as well. Once you were among the mightiest of the Titans. But I hear that things have changed lately. Not feeling quite the thing any more, are you? You should be more careful of your choice of beverages, my old friend. One doesn’t really know where those fancy bottled waters come from, what nasty river flowing out of—”
“Julian! You said you wouldn’t tell!” Renee cried suddenly, throwing herself at him. “You said you wouldn’t tell them I told you. Now you’ve dragged me into the middle of this mess. You promised!” She burst into tears and started to beat on his chest with her fists.
“Go, quickly!” a voice said in Theo’s ear. She looked up and saw that it was Olivia. She was staring at Renee. “Get Grant and go. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but I think you two need to talk before anything else occurs. I’ll try to keep the interruptions going after Renee calms down.” She pushed at Theo’s shoulder.
Theo did not need to be told a second time. She grabbed Grant’s hand and began to sidle away from Julian and Renee.
My office is open, a voice said in her head. She looked up and saw Dr. Waterman staring at her. He nodded at her, and she nodded back.
“Come on,” she murmured to Grant. “Upstairs.” Halfway across the room she broke into a trot, still tugging Grant behind her. Passing the bust of Octavian on the stair landing, she resisted the impulse to give it a savage kick.
She pulled the unresisting Grant into Dr. Waterman’s office, closed the door, and shoved him toward a chair.
But he did not sit down. He stood still, staring at the floor for several seconds. Then he slowly raised his eyes to her.
“You’re wearing the stola,” he said.
Theo stared at him. “What?” Then she remembered. Only married women wore the stola. Unmarried girls wore the toga. She flushed. “I hadn’t noticed.”
&n
bsp; “No?” His voice was dry.
“No, I hadn’t,” she replied angrily. “I’ve barely noticed anything lately, because Julian’s kept me so drunk on his ambrosia wine that I haven’t been able to think two consecutive thoughts.”
“It’s true, then. He’s given you ambrosia. Marlowe said so.” Why was he looking at her like that?
“He tricked me into it. He—” A sob filled her throat as she remembered. “He came to me in the sh-shape of a cat. A cat, on a rainy night, so I h-had to let it come inside and curl up on the foot of my bed—” She turned away from him, struggling to regain her breath.
“Oh, Theo.” Grant’s arms were suddenly around her. She turned and buried her face against his chest and let her tears flow. How could she have forgotten this? How could she forget his scent, his touch? The thought made her cry all the harder. He held her tightly, stroking her hair and murmuring under his breath until her sobs quieted.
After a few minutes he pulled away and looked at her. “Well, you do make a beautiful goddess,” he said, with a ghost of a smile.
“Grant—don’t—”
“Ssh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry again.” He pulled her back against his chest.
After a few more minutes she was able to ask him, “Is it true? Are you really—who he said you were? Prometheus?”
“Yes, I am. Or I was. I haven’t used that name in centuries.” He sighed and continued stroking her hair. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”
“Prometheus,” she said again, in wonderment.
“Prometheus the Titan, mankind’s first savior. Until another savior came along, of course, and I went into retirement.” He chuckled without humor. “I always loved mankind. Some used to say that I was the creator of men, and that was why I loved them so. But it was the other way around. Men created me—and Julian, and all of them downstairs—with their tales and myths. How could I not love my creator?” Grant smiled, his eyes distant.
Theo touched his face, the gentle sad face she had loved so much. “You defied Julian.”
By Jove Page 16