Medusa's Desire (The Fate of Eros #1) (The Fate of Eros Series) (5 page)

When no one emerged, she held her candle towards the corners of the room where the darkness was most thick. "Who's there?"

No one answered and her heart slowed. She allowed her tense muscles to relax. It must have been a mouse. Virgin priestesses and soldiers didn't like to sneak up on people in the dark. They viewed themselves as worshippers and warriors of the light.

This was her cue to leave. She turned around to admire the statue once more and blew it a kiss goodbye. Her breath caught in her throat. She wished she could see the goddess in person just once. She didn't deserve such an honor, but knew she'd never be the same again if it happened to her.

An arm wrapped around her waist and a hand covered her mouth. She tried to scream as she struggled, but every noise she made was muffled. She was lifted from the ground, kicking and punching as a male body pressed into her back. Her face was shoved against the floor and her legs parted. Her body ached as her bones cracked under the pressure of being smooshed against the hard floor.

Had one of the servants noticed her? They didn't seem like the kind of people who would attack someone. Maybe a criminal had broken inside. But he seemed too strong to be just one human. Who was this and what did he want from her? Was she going to die?

He lifted her dress and immediately tears flowed down her face. No, he couldn't possibly want that. She refused to give it up to a stranger. She beat her fists against the floor and tried to crawl away. She deserved to keep this one thing after all she'd lost.

The smell of the sea overwhelmed her and made it hard to breathe. He was pinning her down so tightly that she couldn't move forward. His skin was slick and covered in sand. It tingled where he touched her as power radiated off him. Much taller than a normal man would be, he could crush her with his bare hands.

His erection was huge. As it pressed against her entrance, she wondered how it would be possible for him to fit it inside. She begged for him not to do it, imagining the blood that would result, but he ignored her. It felt as if he was ripping her in half as he filled her up. He might as well have been pummeling her with a knife. Her hymen broke, a tiny tear, but it ricocheted throughout her abdomen. His grunts were loud and his thrusts were deep.

She bit and clawed at his hands, but he took no notice. In fact, she was pretty sure that the more she fought him, the more he was turned on. She wished he would hurry and finish so that it could all be over. She wasn't sure she could make it through the whole thing alive and kept picturing her mother's disapproving face. Ceto had warned her that she could get hurt, but she hadn't listened. Was this whole thing her fault?

With one last moan, he finished. He left her with a mess of sex juices and blood dripping down her thighs. She ached too much to move and get a glimpse of his face before he disappeared, but she had a feeling he would be gone anyway, even if she had been quick.

The one thing she valued-her virginity-had been stolen from her like everything else. Her body trembled all over and she thought about searching for the knives the priestesses used to perform sacrifices and cut herself with them. Or maybe she could still find the man and kill him. She couldn't do it, though. It was too much effort.

She lay there for what felt like an eternity and once her legs stopped shaking, she stood. She winced and almost fell over as she tried to walk. She had to grip the wall to make any progress. She was leaving all the evidence of the attack behind. She wanted to clean it and make it go away, but she didn't have the energy or tools to do so.

When she finally got back to Bartholomew's room, she blew the candle out and lay on the hay. Her eyes were stuck wide open and she couldn't breathe, even as she rested her head. She wanted to light the candle again, so she could see what was happening in the room, but the two of them could get angry with her. She was scared the man would return and rape her again. Her two roommates would probably try to protect her, but that being had been strong and what if they couldn't fight him off? What if he covered her mouth and was so quiet that they heard nothing?

She contemplated waking them, but wondered whether they would blame her for what had happened. Bartholomew knew she was a prostitute, after all. Maybe he'd make a joke and say she was probably just upset because he hadn't paid her or yell at her for wandering the temple alone. She couldn't take that.

She wanted to tell the authorities, but knew that would help nothing. Being in the temple, in a man's room, was illegal. She'd be the one punished rather than the mysterious man who had hurt her.

She hiccupped as she cried. It wasn't fair. She was ruined and possibly pregnant. She made bad decision after bad decision and she'd be suffering on the streets soon for all of them.

Medy eventually drifted off to sleep and morning came too quickly. She begged Bartholomew and Cithara for permission to make a sacrifice in front of Athena's statue. Bartholomew hesitated before saying yes, which made Medy feel terrible, but this was important. They went into the agora to purchase a dove. The man wouldn't haggle for it, so Medy was forced to borrow a drachma. Cithara left; she'd be back to get her later.

Bartholomew found a beautiful young brunette dressed all in white with a childish face. The other priestesses stared at the two of them as if they were teachers looking down at unruly students. The dove cooed in its cage, which cut the silence like a hammer banging against the wall.

Bartholomew claimed in a whisper that she owed him a favor, but he still bowed his head and didn't look her in the eye as he asked the priestess to perform the sacrifice.

Her mouth formed a tight line and Medy felt certain she'd say no. "Very well. Follow me."

Bartholomew left to perform his duties. Medy hid her face behind her hair and didn't meet anyone's eyes as they traveled down the hallway she had been in the night before.

"Most people aren't allowed into this place," the young priestess said. "If you touch anything or speak, you will be forced to leave immediately."

Medy nodded her head. The mess she had left was gone. She wondered whether they'd cleaned it.

When they neared the statue, Medy kept her eyes on the ground. The priestess set a pile of logs on a golden altar to the side and lit it on fire. She grabbed the caged dove from her. It flapped its wings wildly as she pulled it out. She took a bronze knife and slit its throat, barely noticing its struggle. Blood dripped down her hand as she removed the meat from the fat and bone; the priestesses and slaves would consume it later. She threw the fat and bone on the fire and soon the flickering flame was reflected on each gold plated wall.

Medy bowed her head and clasped her hands. This would be the end of foolish decisions. The sacrifice of this pure, white bird would cleanse her for the future.

She gazed at Athena's feet and swore that they were glowing. It must have been the morning light playing tricks on Medy's eyes. The toes twitched and she wondered whether the hallucinations were because of a lack of sleep.

She looked up slowly as the white marble turned peach where Athena's skin lay. Her armor burst with color: in some places bronze, in others gold.

Medy stumbled backwards. A servant carrying water shattered the pottery on the ground as she dropped it. All the priestesses fell to one knee.

The owl on Athena's shoulder blinked and flapped its wings. Her hair flowed down her shoulders unlike any color Medy had ever seen. In some lights it shone red, in others blonde, and in the rest brown. It changed every time she moved. Her lips were pressed together, her chin stuck out, and she glared downward. She raised her spear and pointed it at Medy's forehead.

Medy froze, her eyes wide and her mouth open.

"You have defiled my temple!" Athena shouted.

Tears streamed down Medy's face. Her knees felt weak. "I'm so sorry. I would never purposefully do such a thing."

"Silence! I will not hear your excuses. I saw you sleeping with Poseidon in my temple last night! Or are you saying my eyes deceive me?"

Medy's face paled. The one who had raped her was Poseidon? It couldn't have been.

Athena's eyes narrowed. "I've heard about your bragging, too. You've been telling everyone that you're more beautiful than me. Is that why you slept with the man I was pursuing?"

"No, that was-"

Athena shook. "Time for your punishment! I'll make you as ugly on the outside as you are in your soul."

Athena reached down and touched Medy's forehead with her giant finger. A white light radiated from her. It enveloped Medy in its beauty, but stung as it filled her. She shook, feeling unlimited power sizzling through her veins.

The priestesses began to scream and run.

Medy shook all over. Her whole body felt wrong, like her bones needed to be cracked. "What's happening to me?"

Her back itched as pain laced through her shoulder blades. Pressure built up and relief shuddered through her as two giant bat wings burst from her. They ripped her clothes to shreds and left her naked. She didn't bother to cover herself.

She was too frightened to move, but scared she'd harden in place from the tightening of her skin. Scales crawled up her once silky flesh. Her smooth hands darkened and grew hard as metal. Her hair swirled around her head as if it was alive. In fact, the strands had grown fangs and were biting her repeatedly. They tickled her skin with their tongues and when she saw they were snakes, she expected to swell and die. Fortunately, she was immune to the poison.

That wasn't the worst part, though. The worst thing was when she met the gaze of Bartholomew. He didn't run like everyone else. He watched as her eyeballs fell from her face and red irises grew in their place. She should have been blind, but she had never been able to see the colors of the world more deeply.

He screamed, horrified by her ugliness. He turned to run, but his body grayed and froze. His death and the moment Medy hurt her friend Cithara worse than anyone else could was immortalized in an eerie statue, twisting and running from her presence.

She wanted to beg for Athena to make it stop, but she had disappeared and been replaced by her beautiful marble statue. Her judgment was finished.

Everyone else screamed along with Medy. Some of them grayed and others escaped. She wondered how many had families.

Soon nothing moved.

Medusa collapsed as the world turned black.

That was the day the monster Medusa was born.

Medusa woke several hours later. She was naked and covered in a thick gray fog. She struggled to flap her wings because her feet weren't touching the ground, but she couldn't move. Invisible ropes and the scaly bodies of four other monsters of various sizes pressed up against her. She fought, even though each movement caused angry red gashes to erupt across her skin.

The fog beneath her parted and she saw the green grasses of her homeland thousands of feet below her. The air was thin here and her heart beat quickly. She was flying through the clouds, but certain she would fall.

A ray of sunshine fell on her and she saw a white line sparkling in the light. A net as fine as a spider's web, didn't budge as she fought it, but cut into her. The web was as strong as the invisible net that Hephaestus had used to capture Aphrodite and Ares when they were having an affair.

She glanced up. Sure enough, she saw Hermes flapping the wings of his sandals and helmet, lugging the five of them effortlessly through the sky. Hairless in the places Medusa was able to glance at between his armor, his lanky frame was topped with a full head of curls.

She resigned herself to her fate. The thin atmosphere and her adrenaline were making her dizzy.

She scanned her snoozing companions. Two were creatures similar to herself with scaly skin, wings, and writhing snakes on the top of their heads. A muscular merman with lobster claws instead of hands lay next to them. Largest of all was a serpent whose body wrapped around the rest of the creatures and squeezed them tightly.

They must have once been people who had fallen into disfavor with the gods like Medusa had. She squinted. Something was familiar about their features, such as the human shape of the merman's nose or the soft sighs that emerged from the sleeping lips of the large serpent. She could almost see their human forms, like ghosts that followed them. She gasped as realization hit her. Tears filled her eyes. This was what remained of her family.

The giant sea monster was her mother, the merman her dad, and the two like her were her sisters: Euryale and Stheno. Punishing Medusa hadn't been enough. Athena had taken her whole family down. The one who was supposed to be the most level headed and merciful of the gods had tormented these innocent people.

The snakes that had previously squirmed calmly on top of her head sensed her agitation and bit into her. She wished her hair didn't hate her so much. Her skin throbbed and stung because of it. She supposed she should be thankful that the venom couldn't kill her, but a part of her wished to die.

A castle covered in fog, floating on an island in the air, came into view. Beacons of light burst from it in various angles. Medusa was forced to close her eyes for a moment because it was so pretty it stung her irises. Leaves made of gold decorated every inch of the white marble it had been built with and when the golden double doors opened, Medusa gasped at what she saw.

A round table sat in the center of the room, covered in food. Pastries the color of flowers dripped sweet jam like honey. Fresh fish, cooked until the outside was crisp like Medusa had once loved to eat-teased her. Overflowing fountains filled golden goblets with pink juice. Every color of cloth hung from the walls. The floor itself sparkled with gems, making the room look like a giant rainbow. Fairies with iridescent wings and pointy features flew around like bees, arranging everything.

Hermes plopped them down in a pile between two rows of thrones. The monsters stood out like a black eye near all this beauty.

The thrones had been specially decorated to match the god that inhabited them. Medusa spotted Poseidon's, carved out of an aquamarine gemstone, so it looked like it had been left there by the ocean. Seashells rested on it and sand filled the base. Medusa clenched her teeth and tightened her fists as she stared.