He stiffened. “Oh, you didn’t, you know, look, did you?”
“I certainly did. Not when you were together of course, but the things Persephone hides in the night, her uncertainty about Hades, her fears of being left alone and how he was the only stable thing she knew… and how she has feelings for you she never had for Hades? Yes, I’ve seen all of this. I had to know you weren’t going to get hurt.”
“What if I did get hurt? Would you smite Persephone?”
“Maybe.” She pretended to seriously consider it.
“Ma!”
“See? You can go around smiting people because you don’t like something they did. Even to someone you love.”
“Is this supposed to be a lesson? Because I’m not feeling it.”
“I know; it’s different when it’s your mom.”
“Are you saying you love Apollo?”
“No. But I’m saying I like him and in another century or two, it might not be out of the realm of possibility.”
“He never stays with anyone that long.”
“Good. Then we’ll break up before I could do something so stupid.”
“You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?” Thanatos asked as if this were somehow a revelation.
“Yeah. I’m supposed to. I’m Mom.”
“Tell me this, then—,”
“I’m not a Magic Eight ball, Thanatos.”
“I didn’t even shake you up.”
“Fine. What?”
“Persephone will love me. Then what? How can we be together? I’m Death. I walk in shadow. She’s going to be the Goddess of Spring, rebirth. Her power is Life.”
Nyx pulled away and cupped her son’s cheek. Oh, he was a beautiful boy. Why Persephone hadn’t already admitted she was head over ass Nyx would never know. He did tortured almost better than Hades.
“My son.” She sighed. “You’ve bought into your own hype,” Nyx said softly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that her power may be Life, but you’re not polar opposites. You’re not even two sides of the same coin like Apollo and I. Look at the mortal world in winter. It seems as if everything is dead and cold, but beneath the ground, life struggles and in the spring it bursts forth. When is birth ever easy? It’s hard and ugly, brutal. Yes, the flowers are beautiful. The verdant landscape lovely. But birth and death go hand in hand—often one must die so that another can be born. Even the mortals in the ancient traditions worshipped this cycle, the young stag kills the king stag to take his rightful place and it begins again.”
“I’ve seen her death.”
“And does that matter so much when Death holds her close?” She smiled again and patted his cheek. “Go on, she’s still upset. Hold your goddess and keep her safe. I’ll bring the cakes up after they’ve cooled.” Nyx watched him for a long moment. “So, don’t take advantage of her vulnerability. I don’t want to walk in on anything.”
“Then knock first.” He kissed the top of her head and went back up the stairs to his room before she could say anything else.
It was Nyx’s turn to stand there with her mouth hanging open on a rusty hinge.
24
DEMETER
Darkness crept over her with an old woman’s knobby fingers, gnarled shadows clawed and grasped and Demeter’s first instinct was to fight, but she realized it was the touch of death. She’d thought Thanatos would come for her, his long coat billowing out behind him and that secret smile he wore like a gentle mask.
But there was no one there, no face to put to the omnipresent shadow. It was heavy like smoke and it filled her lungs; made it impossible to breathe. She was a goddess, breath shouldn’t have been vital to her, but she felt the pressure in her chest as if she’d been hit with a wrecking ball. Demeter reached out for Eros, but she couldn’t find him.
Oh, gods, he wasn’t there!
The place he’d occupied beside her in the bed was cold and empty. He’d been gone for some time. Had he abandoned her to face her fate alone? Not that she didn’t deserve it—she knew she did, but she was so afraid. He’d promised to hold her when it was her time. Her heart told her he would have kept that promise, had he known this moment would be the dusk of her life. She wanted to call out to him, but Demeter’s fear of dying paralyzed her. So much so when an unseen force knocked her from the bed, she couldn’t reach out and find purchase on the sheets or the mattress to keep her body from falling to the ground.
Only, the impact she expected never came. She was caught in a freefall through endless nothing; her stomach flipped and crawled up into her throat—like a dream where one steps off the mountain top and tumbles forever.
This was death? Would her awareness simply blink out as if it had never been when she made impact? Or would this fall be eternal?
Demeter had been to Tartarus, so she knew she hadn’t been consigned to eternal torment for her selfishness. Thinking of it, Demeter decided she’d gladly take the eternal torment if she could fix what she’d done to Persephone and tell Eros she loved him.
She wasn’t sure if what she felt for him was love, but it was the closest thing that had ever resembled that emotion for her. Demeter didn’t take comfort in the knowledge that he knew her heart, or the innermost places of her soul. She needed to tell him, because even though he could see inside of her, he needed to hear it. Words like sugarplums off of her lips.
Yes, like the poem he’d read to her about love-stained kisses and absinthe mist. Demeter wondered if she’d forget in this eternity and that seemed like the biggest crime. She’d take all of her deeds in stark relief, she’d relive each and every horrible thing she’d done from either side of the equation as long as she got these last moments with Eros.
A hot, white nebulous thing blossomed inside of her and with it came the certain knowledge that everything she’d done, while terrible, had moved Persephone exactly where she was supposed to be. She was still learning the lessons that were hers by the threads of Fate, but she would be happy. Despite it all, Persephone would have joy. She would have love. Even though she walked hand in hand with Death, it was where her happily ever after lived and breathed.
Her face was wet with tears and Demeter didn’t know if they were of sorrow for wasting the time she’d been given or if it was joy for the bright future her daughter would have with the most unlikely god. She thought maybe it was a little of both. Demeter swore wherever she ended up, she would not drink of Lethe’s Stream, the elixir that would steal her memories and her pain. Because it would steal her joy as well. She’d only just felt this palette of emotion and Demeter didn’t want to give it up, even if it meant keeping her suffering too.
It was then Demeter surrendered to her twilight, the long shadows that had twisted into a noose eased and she ceased her struggle to take breath that no longer belonged to her. Her last thought was of Eros and the sorrow and guilt she knew he would feel when he returned to find her dead.
Demeter didn’t feel as if she were falling any longer, but floating. A warmth lapped at her fingers and toes, it washed over her like she was adrift in an eternal sea. There were stars overhead, millions upon millions sparkling like mischievous winks from a benign being greater than herself—greater than all the gods.
She was still crying, but it was from release. All of the darkness she’d held inside of her was gone. All of the hate and the pain and all she could feel was love. Demeter couldn’t quantify it, but she knew in her soul this was real. She’d been touched by something bigger than the universe, but still seemed to fit within the seemingly small confines of her heart.
Demeter was clean, purified somehow. And the tears wouldn’t stop. That’s when she realized she wasn’t in an ocean, it was a sea of tears, what was left to mark the passing of the others before her and Demeter knew with a certainty that she was not alone.
Her hair tangled down in the fronds of the water plants, becoming one with the other greenery and vines. It pulled her down, but she didn’t fight, even
as the salty tears filled her nose—her mouth. It was fitting she should stay there and Demeter was thankful to know her essence would go on as her fingertips became vines and her legs twined around to thrust deep within a sandy shelf as they became roots.
Just as she’d resigned herself, she was falling again. Demeter hit the floor next to Eros’ bed and thunked her head on the edge of the mahogany headboard. She was almost too stunned to notice.
Eros dashed from the bathroom, his toothbrush half hanging out of his mouth. “What happened?”
Demeter tried to pull herself up on the bed, but didn’t have much luck. Her limbs were uncoordinated and her body was still numb from her experience. Eros hefted her with ease, toothbrush still at the corner of his mouth and deposited her back in the bed.
With her arm hooked around the back of his neck, her eyes finally focused on his face. “I died, Eros.”
He stiffened and the toothbrush fell from its perch to clatter across the floor. “What?”
“It happened. I died.” She pressed her lips together to hold back another sob.
“Then how are you here with me?” His hands moved over her and Demeter didn’t know if he was checking to see if she was injured or if she was real.
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I can’t explain it, but my heart?” She pressed a fist to her chest. “It hurts.”
“It’s okay. You’re here with me now. I won’t let you go,” he swore.
“Eros, it was…” she searched for the word she wanted. “Beautiful.”
“Death was beautiful? Like mother like daughter then?” He tried to joke, but she could hear the strain in his voice.
“My heart is so full, it aches with it. Everything you said in your prophecy was true. Love saved me. I don’t know how much more time I’ve been given, but I know it’s more than I deserve. And I have to tell you something.” She looked up at him, her emerald eyes full of promise.
“Demeter—,” he tried to cut her off.
She wouldn’t let him. “No. Like I said, I don’t know how much more time has been given to me and I don’t want to waste it.” Demeter kissed him softly before looking into his eyes once again. “Will you live with me and be my love?” she said, quoting Christopher Marlowe back to him as he’d quoted Keats outside her window. “There will I make thee a bed of roses…”
And brought to life by the intensity of her emotion, the room bloomed to life, covered in red roses. They twined around the headboard and footboard, over the windows and the door—in a red carpet of velvet petals across the floor and one lone bloom sparked to life in her hand. Demeter held it out to him carefully, almost as if she were afraid he wouldn’t take it.
He accepted the rose from her and held it as if it were the rarest of gems. Eros held it against his chest and it branded itself there—a living embodiment of her love.
Demeter reached out tentative fingers to trace its lines, but his hand covered hers and the love that flowed between them was like a river to the sea and back again. She was reminded of the sea of tears where she found her redemption and she whispered a silent thank you to the universe for all of her bounty.
They made love on their bed of roses and Demeter emerged from the long dark to finally stand in the sun.
25
HERA
“J ust what was going on in that head of yours?” Hades finally asked her hours after he’d teleported them back to Tartarus. She knew he’d been waiting for an explanation, but she’d demurred until he had to ask outright.
“What do you mean?” Oh, she knew very well what he meant. He was obviously displeased about being offered up to Persephone like an old handbag she was tired of carrying. Hera hadn’t meant it that way, but Persephone’s suffering was much like what she’d felt when she first discovered Zeus cheating on her. She had empathy for the godling.
“Hera. Don’t play games with me,” he warned.
“I couldn’t very well let her die, could I?”
“Does her life mean more to you than I do?” Hades asked the question as if he didn’t already know the answer and was afraid of it.
“It’s not like I was giving you to her like…” The earlier comparison came to mind. “Like last season’s Prada.”
“Wasn’t it?” His glance was sharp like a thousand daggers.
“No. And what do you care about it anyway? You don’t have feelings.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Hera.”
“You felt something you didn’t like when I offered for that poor heartbroken girl to come to the only place that’s felt like her home for the last few centuries? Get over it. You were selfish when you stole her to begin with. Reap what you’ve sown.”
“Doesn’t it matter to you that it hurt me you could give us up so easily? What about all of your promises, Hera?”
“What about them? I promised you I’d stay and I have. I will. I’m yours, Hades. You think that sad little godling has anything to do with that?”
“Doesn’t she?” His jaw was set in a hard line.
“My gods, you are frustrating. You answer every question with another question.” She sighed and flopped on the divan.
“Hera, first it’s she’ll hold her breath until she gets back in my house. Then it’s she’ll die if she’s not in my bed. Then another tantrum until you’re gone.”
“I thought you loved her,” Hera said quietly.
“I loved the idea of her. With my heart no longer in my chest, I can see that now. A little perspective did wonders.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s okay to hurt her or treat her callously.”
“You’re the only goddess I know who would defend the female trying to take her man.” Hades shook his head.
“And can she take you from me?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, carefully.
“I said so, didn’t I?” he growled, irritated.
“And if we have a fight, are you going to drag me to the surface and install another in my place with no care or concern for what your actions have done to me?”
“Do you want me to be with Persephone?”
“I want you to be happy, Hades.” I love you had been on the tip of her tongue. Gods forbid she should ever say that where he could hear her.
“What if it was being with Persephone?”
“We already had this discussion.” His words cut her. What the hell was she doing here? Fuck the fire—she’d jumped out of the frying pan and right into the inferno. This was deeper than she’d ever been into anything. “Nothing’s changed.”
“I hope for your sake that you haven’t fallen in love.”
This was the straw that stripped the scales from the dragon. She’d had enough of his self-pity and his fear. Because that’s what it was—this aversion to love. It was pure, unadulterated fear.
“And what if I did, Hades? Would it be so horrible?” Hera looked up into his eyes and she refused to be afraid anymore, refused to fear that he would see the truth of her feelings there.
“It would,” he said quietly as he nodded. “There would be only pain for you there because I can’t love you back.”
“Did I ask you for anything but your time and attention? Did I ask you to love me?” Hera asked as if she really required an answer.
“You are now with that hopeful desperation on your face.”
“What do you know of it? Nothing,” she answered her own question. “You’ve never loved. You just said that what you felt for Persephone was the love of an idea, not the goddess. So how can you know what it feels like, or what I’m asking you for, or what I can live with?”
“Hera,” he began in a low tone that was almost an admonishment.
“Hades,” she delivered the rebuke back to him. “Don’t presume to know the breadth of a goddess’s heart. I don’t want anything from you but what you want to give me. I knew you wouldn’t love me the day I proposed this partnership. Nothing has changed. We don’t even need to have thi
s conversation. You’re the one so focused on it.”
“Because your pain hurts me,” he cried.
“Ah, well then I should stop loving you because of your discomfort?” She rolled her eyes.
“Yes!”
“No. It doesn’t work that way. You wanted to have this discussion? Fine. We’ll have it. I do love you.” He looked stricken at her words, but that didn’t stop her. The dam had broken and the tidal wave of her confession couldn’t be stopped now. “I love you like the sun loves the sky—content to burn in its arms for eternity. My love is more constant than the stars and when they’ve shuddered into oblivion, it will still be there—strong in my heart as the day it was born. When the mortal world is nothing but dust and ash and all that makes us sentient has slipped away in the granules of sand through the great hourglass—yes, even then. No matter if you never feel your heart beat again inside your chest, no matter if you never feel anything but lust for me, I will love you.”
“Don’t say those things.” He looked away.
“Why not? You demanded to hear them. So now you will listen.” Hera sprang to her feet and grabbed his arm when he would have turned away from her.
“Damn it, Hera. I know I’m your second choice.” Hades still wouldn’t look at her.
She remembered her promise to the tender heart that had beat for her. Hera had promised she wouldn’t hurt him and this had done it, cut him to the core. She took a deep, calming breath. “I chose wrong the first time. I didn’t love either one of you then. I was a godling led by my mother’s hand. Why does this have to be about the past? Can’t it be about us in the here and now?”
“Because it is about the past. It’s about punishing Zeus. It’s about catching the one that got away and Hera, when you finally see I’m not the catch you made me out to be, all of these things you think you’re feeling…they’ll crumble to nothing.”
“You are everything that you made yourself out to be, Hades. I’ve already told you I don’t expect anything from you but honesty and fidelity. Are you telling me you can’t deliver?”
Ambrosia Lane 1-3: Saranna DeWylde Page 22