Echo in the Hall

by Cricket Starr

  She thought about her little apartment in the low-rent district of the Elysian Fields. The red and black color scheme she’d used seemed far too harsh compared to this subtle approach. Maybe once this was over she could have a chat with Psyche and get some ideas for improving her personal space.

  Provided the god’s wife was speaking to her. “Borrowing” someone else’s equipment without permission was frowned upon in Olympian circles, but it was an emergency. She couldn’t wait for the god and his wife to get back from vacation, not with her sister’s life at stake.

  Eros wouldn’t mind, and he might not even notice. She’d return the bow as soon as possible, and the arrow…he had to have enough of those to not realize he was missing one arrow.

  Carefully she hunted about for the armory. It was probably off the peach and magenta bedroom. She took a moment to admire the bed, chuckling when she stroked the ultra-smooth fabric of the peach comforter and the surface rippled under her hand.

  A waterbed? Eros and Psyche slept on a waterbed? How seventies!

  One of the bedposts caught her eye, and she smiled at the subtly placed restraint hook. Why Eros, you naughty boy! Does your mother know you practice bondage?

  She opened a door and discovered a walk-in closet. Oh my. Nina blinked in astonishment at the array of sex toys, whips, ticklers, restraints, and dildos arranged neatly on shelves or hanging on the pegboard that lined the walls. In one corner were two five-gallon dispensers, one of fragrant massage oil, the other some sort of super-lube.

  My, my, my. Now she understood why the pair always had that look of sated bliss on their faces. Her collection seemed pathetic compared to this.

  She was learning a lot about the celestial pair, but that wasn’t her purpose. This wasn’t lifestyles of the divinely decadent, and she wasn’t on a tour. She needed to find where Eros kept his spare bows. Another door seemed to beckon. Hoping it wasn’t the bathroom, which would surely prove a distraction, Nina tried it.

  Bingo! She found a room with racks of archery equipment. Well over two dozen gold, wood, and silver bows hung on the racks, both strung and unstrung. Next to each was a quiver of arrows. Nervously, Nina picked her way through the bristling display. She’d been much more at home in the walk-in closet than here. While she’d taken basic archery from Artemis as a young nymph—it was a required course—she’d never really enjoyed it. Sex she understood, weaponry she didn’t.

  Some of the bows were huge, at least as tall as she was. Too big. There wasn’t any way she’d be able to draw one of these monsters, much less hide them. Her task required stealth. She knew that Eros had taken a small bow with him. Surely with this many in his collection, there would be one or two others small enough for her to carry concealed and that she’d have the strength to draw.

  She searched the room. There, over in the corner. A small short bow, only about two feet long. It hardly looked like it belonged with the others it was so little. It wasn’t even made of gold but some sort of reddish wood. Next to it was a quiver of arrows, also shorter than usual. Nina pulled one of the arrows to examine it. The arrowhead was made of some kind of gold metal. She admired the workmanship on the head. It was beautiful, but looked wickedly sharp. She shuddered, glad it wasn’t her body that would be hit with that point.

  Nina flicked her fingers and a cloak appeared in her hands. Carefully she wrapped both the arrow and bow in it, to conceal them from her fellow Olympians’ eyes. While she could do small magic like making a cloak out of thin air, she’d need to walk back to her home before doing anything as major as transporting. Magic tended to attract too much attention.

  She examined the cloak-wrapped bundle. The shape of the bow was somewhat hidden. This would work for now but she’d have to find something else to hide the bow before taking it back to Earth. Maybe she had something in her apartment that would work.

  Finished, she returned to the living room, making sure she’d left no sign of her passage through the rooms. If Eros really wanted to, he’d be able to figure out pretty quickly who’d been here, but it would be another several days before he and Psyche would be home. She’d be able to return the bow long before then.

  She might even take a vacation herself just in case he did figure out she’d taken it. Someplace warm, like Tahiti. Nina could imagine herself sunning on a beach in a colorful pareo, or swimming in warm turquoise-colored water, acquiring a tan while the heat died down. Sounded like paradise.

  She could stand a little paradise for a while. It wouldn’t be long before Eros forgot about her transgression. No more than twenty or thirty years, max.

  Sighing, Nina prepared to leave. It didn’t matter if she did get caught, or punished. Someone had to save Chloe. If her sister went back to the spirit world, that would be far worse punishment than anything they could do.

  One way or another, Alex was going to fall in love with Chloe. If the dolt wouldn’t do it on his own, she’d provide a little pointed help to do the job.

  Clutching the cloak wrapped bundle to her chest, Nina slipped through the unlocked back door and headed for her home.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chloe looked at the clock. Just past four o’clock. She had a couple of hours before Alex got home, just enough time to finish baking bread for dinner. Smiling sadly, she got up to check the dough under its damp cloth. Not quite finished rising yet, she’d check it again in a few minutes.

  With Nina gone, she was at a loss for something to do. The apartment was clean, the laundry all done. She’s prepared dinner, a nice casserole and salad, which were waiting in the refrigerator. All she needed to do was put the casserole in the oven with the bread.

  She didn’t really want to watch television. Lately the shows had all seemed tedious. Two people would fall in love then fight continuously until the end of the program when they’d miraculously make up. Why did they always go through that period of fighting? Didn’t they realize how lucky they were to have someone who loved them?

  Didn’t they realize how lucky they were to have a future?

  If she were a character on one of these shows, she would know how lucky she was. She didn’t have a future or someone who loved her.

  Aphrodite had warned her that she needed to get Alex’s love within two months or the spell that had turned her human would fail. She’d return to the spirit world, barely able to make herself solid and if she weren’t close to her statue when the spell failed, she might drift away, unable to anchor herself to this world at all.

  At least at the museum she’d be able to see Alex occasionally.

  As of yesterday, her two months were up and he hadn’t expressed love for her at all. Anytime now she expected to hear the goddess’s voice, telling her she needed to return to the museum.

  Her gaze fell on the small bookcase she’d added to the living room, a castoff she’d found on the street on garbage day. It had only taken a little work to repair the broken support for one of the shelves. Now it stood filled with paperback novels, of romance and adventure, places she’d never been, places she’d never see. She’d become an avid reader in the past two months, making up for thousands of years without stories.

  Yet another thing she would miss, reading a good novel. Chloe considered reading one now, but none of the old ones appealed to her, and the new ones were all too long to finish quickly. She’d hate to leave and not know how the story ended.

  She hated to leave anyway, but that was how her story was going to end.

  Would Alex miss her? She supposed so. He’d certainly miss having clean clothes, home-cooked meals, and a tidy apartment. Maybe he’d get a clue once she was gone and realize that commitment wasn’t such a bad thing, and that the least a woman deserved was to be loved.

  All people need love, humans, gods, and wood nymphs—even Alex needed love. He just didn’t realize it yet.

  A large book on top of the bookcase caught her attention. She picked it up and discovered it was photo album. In the inside cover was Alex’s full name and the
class he was taking.

  Alex’s portfolio! She’d wondered how he’d been doing on that. Since he used the lab at the university to develop his pictures, she’d seen very few of them, and he’d been reluctant to bring anything home to show her.

  He must have brought it in yesterday while she was working on dinner. Maybe he’d intended to show it to her last night, but feeling how short time was for her, she’d been too eager to get to bed with Alex. They’d skipped their usual after-dinner talk in the living room.

  Sitting on the couch, Chloe opened the book to leaf through it. There were pictures of her, beautiful images. Some were black and white, some color. All were perfectly composed, skill showing both in the lighting, the focus, and the arrangement of the component parts. Several had titles describing what they were of or intended to convey.

  In some pictures she was clothed, others, nearly naked. In one shot she could see the hint of a nipple, but none of the pictures were crude in showing her nudity. Given how often she’d seduced Alex by posing for him, shedding one article of clothing after another, it was amazing how few shots there were of her without clothes.

  Maybe Alex didn’t want others to see her naked? Chloe pondered that thought, its meaning giving a boost to her hopes. If he felt that way, maybe he cared for her more than she’d thought, cared enough to be jealous.

  He hadn’t liked her going out with others, even Nina. When she’d been late coming back from the park after meeting Pan, he’d acted quite concerned that she might have been with another man.

  She turned another page. More pictures of her, out in the woods. One of the pictures looked like her statue at the museum. Alex had had her mimic the statue’s pose, peering from behind a tree. He’d even included a picture of the statue for reference. Underneath it was a title, “nymph in the woods.” She’d looked like a wood nymph, to be sure—Chloe smiled at the whimsy of it. She hadn’t realized that Alex could see the humor in something like that.

  More pictures of her. Some had been taken candidly, when he’d come up on her unawares. One was of her intent expression on getting the placement of a garnish just right for her last class project. Another showed her relaxing in the bath, with plenty of bubbles providing modesty, her face holding a blissful smile.

  Bubble baths. Yes, that was another thing Chloe would miss.

  One of the final photos made her gasp in surprise. He must have taken it after he’d returned from work, while she was asleep in bed. It was black and white, her hair a pale shimmer on the pillow, one arm carelessly flung above her head. The blanket molded to her body, but one of her legs had freed itself from the covers and lay on top of the sheet. Her face in sleep held peace and contentment, a hint of a smile on her lips. Dreaming maybe, of someone special.

  A beautiful picture, to be sure. But that wasn’t what surprised her. All of Alex’s pictures were wonderful. But the caption on this one was “love dreaming”.

  Chloe closed the book and replaced it back on the bookcase where she’d found it. “Love dreaming”, that’s what he’d called one of her pictures. Alex never used the word love if he could help it. He didn’t trust it, didn’t trust those who used it too freely. That was one of the reasons she hadn’t been able to tell him how she felt. But now he’d used the word, if only to label a photograph. It was a sign of how close they’d come.

  She doubted even now he’d be able to use the word openly. In a week, maybe two, maybe in a month he would’ve been able to say it. He would have told her directly how he felt. He would have told her he loved her. But he just wasn’t ready yet.

  So close, so very, very close. Tears welled up in her eyes and she broke down. She gave in to her misery, letting them flow freely, not bothering to cover up her unhappiness. Heavy sobs robbed her of her breath and she gasped loudly. There was no one to hear her cry, no one to be silent for.

  After a while she ran out of tears, although her sadness remained. She moved to the kitchen, grabbing a kitchen towel to wipe her face. What would Alex say if he found her crying like this? Maybe he’d grab his camera and take another picture. He could label this one, “love’s despair”.

  Or maybe he wouldn’t take a picture. Maybe he’d take her in his arms and hold her tight, promise her he’d make it all right, whatever the problem was. He might caress her back and kiss away her tears.

  He might even tell her that he loved her.

  Hope mingled with her despair. Maybe the goddess was wrong. It might not be too late. Alex would be home soon and she’d be able to talk to him about the picture. She’d remind him of how he never used the word love unless he meant it. It would be the perfect opportunity to ask him directly if he did love her.

  He’d have to answer her, and the answer would have to be yes. If he’d labeled her his love, even if only through the caption on a picture, then he must mean it.

  If he became evasive, there was something else she could do. She would tell him the truth. She would tell him she loved him, tonight. No more hints as to how she felt. Even if he still felt uncertain, he would see how things stood between them. Better to be open now.

  He’d said he didn’t trust those who use the word lightly. She’d have to convince him that she meant it.

  All she needed was a little time. Maybe the goddess could help her, give her a little longer as a human. It was a spell after all, and Aphrodite was a powerful goddess. She could find a way to extend Chloe’s time. It wasn’t like she was asking for a miracle—just a couple weeks longer. Maybe if she prayed?

  She bent her head. “Please mighty goddess, fairest of the fair. I know you see me now. Can’t you help me? Give me the time I need to show Alex that what he feels for me is real.”

  Chloe opened her eyes and waited. No answer came, no whirlwind in the living room, no bright flash of light to announce the goddess’s arrival. Only silence.

  A wry smile crossed Chloe’s face. Figures. The goddess did as she pleased, as was her prerogative. It didn’t mean she wouldn’t help, but she wouldn’t make a guest appearance to do it.

  The lump of dough on the counter caught her attention, bulging nicely under the damp cloth covering it. It looked close to ready. With one hand, Chloe pulled the cloth away, revealing the symmetrical loaf. It certainly looked ready. She’d just do a finger test to check how much it had risen. Still holding the cloth with her left hand, she poked the dough with her right.

  Her finger went right through the dough as if it wasn’t there.

  Chloe snatched her hand back and stared at it. It tingled, but otherwise looked fine. She stared at the lump of dough. The surface was still smooth and shiny. There was no sign she’d poked her finger into it.

  Trembling, Chloe tried to touch the counter. Again her fingers passed through it, although when she got to where they joined her palm, she felt some resistance. Dropping the towel, she used her other hand to explore the right. While she could see her fingers, her left hand was unable to feel them, only finding solidity when she reached the palm. She traced her hand and discovered she had about half of her thumb. No, wait. She tried again and only a third of her thumb was there.

  The tingling from where her fingers should be became more pronounced and spread slowly into her palm. She tried again and this time couldn’t find any sign of the thumb she could plainly see.

  Fear turning her gut into knots, Chloe sought one of the kitchen stools, grateful for its firmness under her still-solid ass. An odd thought occurred to her. She’d wanted to lose a little weight. Looks like she was going to lose all of it. She tried not to laugh at that. A little laughter now could quickly become hysterical as her panic kicked in.

  She was becoming unsubstantial again, losing her human body a little at a time. When she’d been a spirit, she’d been able to turn herself solid for short periods of time and as she returned to her spirit state, she’d felt the same tingling now coming from her right hand.

  The spell Aphrodite had used to turn her human must be breaking up, just as the goddess had
predicted. There would be no reprieve, no delay in her returning to her old state. Time had run out.

  She stared at her right hand, noting that she could no longer feel the outer edges of the palm. Why it had started there, and why it was progressing so slowly she didn’t understand, but was grateful for it. At the rate she was going, she’d be nothing but vapor within the hour. She had time to get back to the museum, if she started now. She had to be there in time to merge with her statue, otherwise she could very well lose herself in the spirit would.

  She’d been there before and never wanted to go back. Better to be trapped inside a statue than drifting in formless space.

  A glance at the clock told her it was still too early for Alex to get home. She couldn’t wait for him. If he came in time, he could drive her to the museum. But what if he was late? Chloe resisted the urge to panic. That wasn’t going to help her now. She’d have to get to the museum by herself. It was a walk, but not a long one. She’d be there in thirty minutes. Hopefully there would still be enough of her left to open the door so she’d be able to get in.

  Horror filled her. She’d have to leave without saying goodbye. What would Alex think when he came and found her gone? Would he assume she’d left like Melody had, or would he understand that she’d had no choice? She’d promised to tell him why she was going.

  She could leave a note to explain where she was. Maybe he’d come in time and would meet her there. Chloe grabbed one of her shopping lists and turned it over to the blank side. One problem, she’d learned to write with her right hand and only her left still had fingers to grip. The pen felt awkward and the letters she wrote hard to make out.

  Controlling her fear and frustration, she did the best she could, taking long precious moments. To her the note was hard to read, barely legible but she didn’t have time to try again. She left it on the counter next to the unbaked bread. Maybe he’d see that as part of the message, that her leaving had been unexpected and there were things she’d still meant to do.