by Jasmine Walt
Loren toyed with the designer label sewn into the collar of her dress. “Do you think that really happened?”
“Apparently, it did. But they don’t like to talk about their parents.” Demeter and Zeus’s stoic faces flashed before my eyes, as did Hestia’s thumb hovering over her handheld. “They get touchy every time you make a reference to them.”
“Well, I would too if my mom and dad served me up with a side of potatoes. Oh my God.” Loren rubbed her cheek against the hem of the dress. “Is this real cashmere?”
“But I don’t think they’re dead.”
“You mean Cronus and Rhea, the Titans?” Loren spoke to me, but her attention was still on the dress.
“Demi said gods never truly die.”
That got her attention. She dropped the dress on the bed and shoved her fists into her hips. “Demi?”
“Hey, I had a life before you,” I said in my defense. “Just like you had a life before me, Lolo.”
Loren rolled her eyes as I tossed Baros’s pet name at her. “Nia’s already too short for a nickname.”
“I’m not trying to replace you.”
“Of course not, at least not for another eighty years at best. Unless . . .”
I turned to face her, but she only gave me her back. “Loren? Are you thinking about accepting the Olympians’ invitation to become a Chosen?”
She shrugged without turning around. I rounded on her, but she didn’t meet my eyes. While Loren looked down, I took a moment to consider what I wanted her answer to be.
The last best friend I had who wasn’t human, Vau, had died a terrible death. I’d been too late to save her. The other best friend who wasn’t human, Demeter, was hiding something from me. Loren hadn’t always been exactly forthcoming with me, but I knew she’d be there if something terrible were about to happen to me. I’d be there for her, too.
“Do you want to be initiated?” I asked. “Then you could be a perpetual annoyance instead of a temporary one.”
Loren shrugged. The nonchalance of the move caused a pang in my chest, like something inside me was preparing to shrink a few sizes. I decided to try a different tactic.
“You could hang out with Baros more,” I said.
“You know I don’t believe in monogamy. But at the same time, I have jealous tendencies. I don’t like other people touching my stuff.” She gave the bags of gifts from Demeter a cold stare.
Impulsively, I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a bear hug. “I am your stuff, RenRen.”
She gasped. “Did you just nickname me after a cartoon dog?”
I snorted, hopping back before she could attack. When I plopped down on the hotel room bed, she came to sit beside me.
“I don’t know what I want to do with my life,” she said.
Her gaze went unfocused for a moment, and I held still with her in the silent indecision, not trying to exert my will upon her. It was her soul at play, her life, not mine. Like the gods who could grant her everlasting life, I had to respect her decision.
After a while, Loren’s gaze focused. It sharpened on the top of the box that her dress had come in. “I still think something’s not quite right with these gods.”
“Yeah, me too. They are a strange lot, but what family isn’t? They do actual good for the world. Organized good. I feel like my kind has brought nothing but strife.”
Bet and Yod caused countless wars in bids for power. Tres built and demolished. Zane made beautiful things, but then he committed murder without an ounce of remorse. And that was just four of the ten who remained.
“I think we need to continue our initial mission,” Loren said.
“I agree. The Ninnion Tablet may be lost, but there should still be some trace of the Mysteries around here.”
“Let’s head out to Eleusis tomorrow. Maybe we’ll find something there about the rites that the Olympians aren’t telling us.”
“All right,” I agreed.
“And if we find any incriminating evidence on your new BFF, that will just be a boon.”
“Yeah, I guess.” When I turned, Loren was glaring at me with a look of accusatory disappointment. “What?”
“You’re supposed to say, ‘I’m your BFF.’”
“Loren, you’re my BFF,” I said in a stilted voice. Then I ducked before she could toss a pillow at me.
The drive to Eleusis was short and lovely. Once there, we were met with more ruins than what was found at the Acropolis. It looked as though a giant had knocked down the monuments and temples at the site and then laid down in the ground. A huge mound rose in the midst of the debris. The white columns lay in fields of green grass and yellow flowers. Tourists walked the ruins freely. There were no engineers around trying to piece the place back together. It was eerily silent except for the clicks of cameras.
I didn’t think I’d been here before, but something about this place felt familiar. I felt I just needed to look harder and I’d see it. But there wasn’t much to see.
We stood in the remains of the Telesterion. It was once a large, rectangular hall where ancient rites and religious celebrations had been held. Now it was a pile of rocks in the center of a ruin. I saw circular disks protruding from the ground, which were likely once columns. It would’ve been a sight two thousand years ago, before it was destroyed by the Persians in the Battle of Thermopylae.
Today, there were a few men and women laying wreaths and flowers at the base of the temple. Upon closer inspection, it looked as though they were laying wheat.
“What are they doing?” Loren asked.
I racked my brain for an answer I knew was there, but someone else beat me to it.
“They are making an offering to the goddess Demeter,” said a male voice.
We looked over to see a man walking toward us. He was dressed in a vest with the Greek word for docent embroidered over the breast pocket.
“This served as the initiation hall and temple for the Eleusinian Mysteries.” The docent’s English was thickly accented. In his hands, he held poorly copied brochures on cheap copy paper. The script indicated he was an expert on the Cult of Demeter.
“If you were a devotee of the goddess Demeter and her daughter Persephone, you would enter the Telesterion and be shown the sacred relics of Demeter by the priestesses. Through a fire, they would reveal their visions of the holy night to you. If you were found worthy, you would be initiated into the next life.”
“What next life?” I asked.
“I can’t tell you.” He grinned. “I’m sworn to secrecy on pain of death. But the rites will be held here in three nights’ time for the truly devoted.”
He held up an invitation. It was not like the one Loren and I had been given by Baros in Budapest. But I had seen it before. It was the one held by the girl who was denied entrance into Zeus’s orgy party. It had the same image of woven wheat, but this time it was surrounded by black and white peacock feathers.
“The mystery cult is very particular about who they let in,” the docent was saying. “But I could get you ladies an invitation . . . for a price.”
Before I could say anything, Loren grabbed the man’s collar and twisted. “I can offer you money or I can offer you pain, but one way or another, you’ll tell us exactly what these rituals are.”
The man squealed, but then he spilled. “It’s just a bunch of college kids and stoners. There were invitations sent out online for a Spring Break party. They’ll dress in the old style, read the story of Demeter and Persephone, take some hallucinogens, and probably pass out in the fields. It’s all in good fun. No harm done.”
We waited for him to say more, waited for the great conspiracy, waited for the bad guys to jump out from behind the ruined temple and attack. But no one came. The docent said no more words. He only whimpered.
“That’s it?” Loren asked, letting him go. She seemed angrier at the con than she was at the man.
“Of course,” he said. “It’s not real. The real ritual used to be held on this very nig
ht, the solstice. But most people come down a few nights from now, when the universities let out. We may get a few dozen college kids or so. Hardly anyone comes anymore.”
“But they used to come?” I asked. “In the past?”
“Sure,” he said. “About a hundred years ago when the Ninnion Tablet was here. But since it was lost, people have lost interest.”
“Are there any depictions of the tablet here in the temple?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I’ve never seen any. But I heard that what was on the tablet was just the image of people making an offering of wheat to the goddess, Demeter. You do know there’s no such thing as gods, right?”
We only stared at him.
“I’ll take that cash now,” he said, dusting himself off.
Loren cocked her fist back. Before she could unload, the man cowered and then hurried away.
I turned to the crumbling structure. There had to be something more. I could feel power in this place. The temples had been decimated by invaders during the Persian invasion. It had been rebuilt and destroyed again during the Peloponnesian War. There were layers beneath the ground. Perhaps we could find something hidden beneath?
But looking around the town, it was clear its glory days were gone. This might be the place where humans had held festivals in praise of the goddess Demeter in the past. But with her expensive tastes and luxurious lifestyle, I doubted Demi spent any time or thought on this place any longer. If there was something going on, it wasn’t happening here.
“Looks like there’s no smoking gun here.” Loren huffed. “No sacrificial altar. No burial mounds of Cronus and Rhea.”
At the mention of those two names, the wind kicked up on the cloudless sunny day. I felt prickles on my neck. “Do you feel that?”
“Feel what?” Loren asked, seemingly unaware of any change in the atmosphere.
A buzzing sound filled the quiet. I felt it shaking my leg. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. On the face was a text message from Tres.
Back in town tomorrow. Can we do lunch?
I stared at the words on the phone. Unlike in the past, when I used to get text messages from Zane, Tres’s message had come through without delay. And none of the words were scrambled by the auto-cucumber. I could read his message loud and clear.
16
A sleek luxury car pulled up at the hotel that night. I was expecting Demeter, but I saw masculine legs stretched out in the interior. I rolled my eyes, thinking I’d have to spend the drive fending off the advances of a golden god on the way to Eleusis. Luckily, I didn’t think Zeus would try to maul me with Loren in the car.
But then, Poseidon’s dark head leaned out of the car and reached out a hand. He first guided Loren into the car and then reached back for me.
“I thought you were against air pollution from cars?” I said.
“It’s a hybrid,” he said. “Besides, it would be bad form to take a lady out for the evening and expect her to ride a bike or walk.”
His lips curved up to his cheek, much like the silky locks that rested on his shoulders that begged to be stroked by a lover’s hand. But his smile was not set to seduction. He wasn’t hitting on me, and I couldn’t decide if I was disappointed by that or not. Poseidon oozed sexuality, but unlike his golden-haired brother, he didn’t wield it like a weapon. But Psi and I knew that if that lazy grin ever turned all the way up and he flashed those shark-bright teeth, neither I nor any woman would be able to keep hold of her panties.
“Will you tell us more about these Mysteries?” Loren asked. “Will there be any bloodletting? Is it sexual?”
“No.” Poseidon’s grin was indulgent. “No blood or sex. There’s a ceremonial exchange of vows, much like a bride and groom, or a nun, or a priest. And then there’s a reception.”
“That’s it?” Loren sounded disappointed.
“I’m sure Leonidas will be happy to engage in the other activities you mentioned.” Poseidon winked.
No sooner had the car started and we pulled into traffic than we were stopping.
“Where are we?” I asked. “This can’t be Eleusis.”
“No,” Poseidon said. “Why would you think we were going there?”
We stepped out of the car, and I saw the golden illumination of the Parthenon at night. The artificial lights glowed off the fifteen thousand pieces of marble. After two millennia of succumbing to the whims of man and the ravages of nature, the building was crumbling. The columns looked as though they’d been clawed out by a minotaur or a kraken. But I knew that the central portion of the building had been blown out during the Great Turkish War of 1683 when the Turks stored gunpowder in the sacred place. Three of the sanctuary’s four walls had been badly damaged and many of the sculptures from the frieze fell, as did the roof.
Where the sculpture of Athena once stood, a crane now occupied the space. Men and women surrounded the crumbling marble, trying to save it. Pristine pieces of freshly cut marble mixed in with the cracked and decayed pieces like a jigsaw puzzle.
The restorers continued to work under the moonlight, dedicated to saving this piece of their culture. They used what looked like dental tools to strip the botched work of restorers of the past. They flushed out the corrosive materials used years ago on a botched rescue attempt with the cleansing tool dentists used to irrigate the jowls, and followed that with actual toothbrushes to brush away the grime.
Poseidon, Loren, and I walked up the steps that led to the ancient temple. There were metal handlebars and scaffolding mixed in with the ruins. There were now steel railings affixed to the pathway. A million people visited this attraction each year.
One of the workers turned to us, as though to halt our progress. Poseidon raised his hand. The official’s eyes glazed over. He blinked and looked through us, then shook himself and turned back to work.
“What did you do to him?” I asked.
“Hid us from view,” Poseidon answered.
“You can control the minds of humans without their consent?”
“It was only a gentle nudge and it was against his will, so it won’t last long.”
We continued through the Parthenon and went into the restricted area of the columns.
“Why don’t you just compel everyone to worship you?” I asked.
“It’s a matter of quality,” Poseidon said. “You can force someone to give you attention, but you can’t force them to love you. That must come freely. And when it does, you know the difference.”
He looked at me knowingly. Then he cocked his head to the side. Those clear eyes regarded me with interest.
“How is Setuk these days?” he asked.
“We’re not together anymore. I’m . . .” I’d set my mouth to say I was with Tres, but I didn’t. I wasn’t exactly with him. More circling around him. Maybe.
“I saw you with Horus.” Poseidon grinned.
Oh, yeah. He’d been in the waters while we were on Tres’s boat. Poseidon offered no judgment on my choices in partners, which made me want to know his thoughts on my love life. I wondered what our relationship had been like in the past? There were secrets behind his still-water gaze. Though something told me they had nothing to do with me.
Before I could ask, he reached out and turned a latch on a doorway. A passageway opened. We went in and down.
“Is this another layer of the Parthenon?” I asked.
“This is the temple that was built here before the current building above us. It was destroyed by the Persian Invasion of 480 BCE. By your brother, Osiris.”
I knew he meant Bet. I hadn’t heard anyone call him that Egyptian name in thousands of years since he’d left Egypt for Asia.
“And then your brother Horus built the current temple,” Poseidon continued. “It was your brother Setuk that erected the statue of Athena, or who people believed to be Athena.”
“They’re not my brothers,” I insisted in a huff. The mere thought of shared blood between us made me shudder.
Pos
eidon only grinned at me as though it was a joke we’d shared in the past. Only I’d forgotten the punchline and still didn’t see the humor today.
We entered a room full of individuals dressed in robes. I looked to Loren. Both she and I were in slacks and blouses, completely underdressed.
Baros approached Loren. “You came?”
“Oh no,” Loren said, holding up her hands as though to ward off any implication that her presence at these rituals meant something more. “I mean yes, I’m here. But I’m not . . .” She waved her hand at the initiates lining up in a procession. “I haven’t made up my mind. It’s a big decision, and you know I’m not good with authority. Or commitment. I can’t imagine devoting my life to someone and having to do what they say for centuries. I barely managed your lessons.”
If Baros was disappointed, he didn’t show it. “It’s not that bad. There are perks. For example, if a Dutch woman breaks your heart, you can keep on living.”
Loren smirked, but I saw her blue eyes twinkle at the Spartan’s words.
As the two continued to flirt, a hush went over the room. The six gods of Olympus lined up. Actually, no. I counted five. Hera stood off to the side, her face expressionless as her brothers and sisters stood to receive the souls of the newly devoted.
In the hands of the devoted were stalks of wheat.
“You have been accepted,” Demeter said, her soprano voice ringing throughout the cavern. “Today you pledge your devotion to something higher than yourself. In return, we will strengthen you on this everlasting journey. Approach and receive your blessing.”
One by one, the Chosen initiates approached the gods and recited the same pledge.
“I take you to be my god, my savior. I will worship you above all others. You honor me with this special gift, and I give my soul freely for your use. Take my devotion to fuel your existence. I love what I know of you. I trust in the future that you lay at my feet. Whatsoever my life may bring to you, my soul will be at your side for all the risings and settings of the sun, for all the days of fullness and in barren times. In the foreknowledge of joy and pain, strength and weariness, I pledge myself to deepening in devotion to you, my god. My commitment is made in love, kept in faith, lived in hope, and eternally made anew.”