Deep Water (19 page)

Mimicking? For all
I know Poseidon created the bloody style in the first place.

They landed in the colonnade-lined
forecourt of the palace, the seahorses touching down lightly on a field of
crushed seashell. The chariot followed with a slightly more solid thump. A pair
of mermen swam out from the colonnade, coming to a respectful stop on
Poseidon’s side of the chariot.

“My lord, it’s good to have you home,” one
of them said, both bowing low. “How may we serve you?”

“Send some refreshments to my private
chambers,” Poseidon said. “Have there been any issues in my absence?”

The first merman bowed and swam off while
the second one approached. “The palace is secure, lord. There have been a few
human explorers on our outer boundaries, but none of them broached the cloaking
wall.”

“Excellent. This,” he gestured to Griffin,
“is my friend Griffin Moore. He’s to be extended every courtesy.”

The merman’s eyebrows went up at that, but
he bowed. “As you wish, my lord. Shall I prepare a chamber for Lord Moore?”

Griffin caught Poseidon’s considering
glance. “Not just yet.”

“Very well, my lord.” The
mer
swam off, and two others came up to take charge of the
seahorses.

Poseidon floated out of the chariot, waiting
until Griffin joined him. “I would be pleased to give you a full tour of the
palace later, but for now might I suggest that we retire to my chambers so that
we can talk?” he said.

Among other
things?
“Yeah,
good idea.”

Poseidon held out a crooked arm. “As I can
move much faster in the water than you can, you may want to hold on. That way
you won’t wear yourself out trying to keep up.”

Griffin’s pride prickled a bit at that,
but he looped his arm through the god’s offered one. He saw the wisdom in it
immediately as Poseidon set off at a pace that would have made Michael Phelps
envious. The god didn’t swim through the water so much as he cut through it
like a submarine, trident held forward to lead the way. Griffin hung on,
goggling at the hallways lined with marble and mother-of-pearl as they shot
through them. Softly glowing globes netted in darkened brass were suspended
from the ceiling and lit their way. In fact, Griffin realized, he hadn’t really
had much of a problem seeing anything while they were out in the ocean, either.
Getting kissed by a god definitely has
its perks.

Poseidon came to a stop in front of a pair
of immense doors. At the touch of his hand they swung open, revealing an
appropriately huge sitting room done in pale shades of blue and green. Poseidon
guided them to a divan and deposited Griffin on it, putting his trident away in
whatever invisible closet he kept it in before sitting down. “The refreshments
should be here soon,” he said.

“Okay.” Griffin glanced around the room.
It was slightly austere and luxurious at the same time. “I’m still kind of full
of grapes and wine, to be honest.”

Poseidon’s face darkened slightly at that.
“Nectar. I can’t believe they fed you nectar. That was incredibly foolhardy of
them.”

Griffin remembered the taste of the
delicious wine. “So that was really the nectar of the gods?”

“Yes, intended to keep you complacent and
biddable while they tried to seduce you, judging from what I saw.”

Which explained Lisa’s hand on his cock.
Griffin’s mood sank a bit. “Not that it would have worked.”

Poseidon stiffened. “Yes, well,” he
muttered. “I suppose they’re quite attractive, if you like that sort of thing.”

Holy God. I think
he’s jealous.
“I’m
not trying to be an
arse
or anything, but if they’re
your sisters-in-law then didn’t you marry ‘that sort of thing’?”

Something flared to life in Poseidon’s
eyes, then died just as quickly. “I did. And Amphitrite is the most perfect of
women in my opinion. But she would never stoop to such a cheap and dangerous
trick.”

“No, I’m sure she wouldn’t.” Griffin felt
odd talking about Poseidon’s estranged wife. “I think you were going to explain
things to me?”

“Ah. Yes.” Poseidon settled back against
the divan and cleared his throat. “I think it’s best if we start at the very
beginning. What do you know about Medusa?”

The question was odd, but it brought Griffin’s
dream of being the doomed handmaiden back to him. “She was one of the Gorgons,
right? She had snakes for hair and could turn men to stone if they looked at
her. But there’s a Roman legend that says she was also a priestess of Athena’s.
You seduced her in Athena’s own temple, and Athena got so pissed off that she
turned Medusa into a monster as punishment.”

Poseidon sighed. “Correct in overview,
completely wrong in context,” he said. “There was indeed a Gorgon named Medusa,
but she and her sisters were demigods in their own right. The Medusa I speak of
was a beautiful maiden who did serve as Athena’s handmaiden. Since Athena and I
don’t get along, my consort Amphitrite was the first one to meet Medusa. As it
turned out, Medusa was our
agapetos
,
our destined mate. I found out later that
Ammie
had held
off on introducing us because Medusa was inexperienced with men. She was afraid
that I’d simply tumble the girl into bed and have at it without any concern for
her feelings.” His smile was bitter. “A well-grounded fear, as it turned out. A
few weeks after
Ammie
had met Medusa, I had been
drinking with Zeus and Hermes in Zeus’s palace, and had gotten very … merry,
I
suppose you could call it. At some point I decided to
return to my palace and see if Amphitrite was home. I felt quite relaxed, and
had hopes of lying with her.”

His expression changed, turning sorrowful.
“And then, on the steps of Zeus’s hall, I ran into Aphrodite. Quite literally.”

****

Millennia ago

Well into his cups, Poseidon stopped short
on the steps of Zeus’s palace, aware that he had just caromed into something
small and engagingly bouncy. He blinked down at a head of massed ringlets the
color of honey and smelling of rose and jasmine, and smiled.

“Well met, Goddess of Love,” he said,
rather proud of himself for not slurring as he stepped back. “What a pleasure
to bump into you. Heh.”

The gorgeous goddess looked up at him,
displeasure doing nothing to blunt her radiant beauty. “Poseidon,” she said,
eyes narrowing in the light of the torches of Zeus’s courtyard. “You reek of
the vintner’s.”

He waved a hand in the general direction
of the palace. “My brother has been most generous with his wine tonight. But
what could bring a lovely creature such as yourself out at this time of night?
Surely you should be tucked up snugly in bed?” He smirked. “Or is Ares off
overseeing some tedious mortal combat?”

The goddess’s eyes flashed as displeasure
turned to anger. It was no secret that Hera, upon seeing Aphrodite after her
emergence from the waves off Cythera, had sought to forestall the King of the
Gods’ lust for this beautiful new goddess. As the Goddess of Marriage, Hera
suggested that Aphrodite’s loveliness would be the spur to a new War of the
Gods and recommended that she be married to their son Hephaestus, the lame god
of the forge, thus short-circuiting any divine battle over Aphrodite’s favors.

Zeus, having noted the warning glint in
his consort’s eye, reluctantly gave his approval, and Aphrodite was married
that afternoon to Hephaestus. Unsurprisingly, Aphrodite had recoiled at the
sight of her new husband with his twisted leg and refused his bed. Soon
afterwards she chose Ares, the God of War, as her lover, and the two had been
on-and-off romantic partners for centuries.

That being said, their relationship was
tactfully never mentioned, and certainly never in such bawdy terms. “You have
had far too much to drink, Sea Lord,” Aphrodite said, tossing her head. “I have
no idea where Lord Ares is, nor would I have any reason to know this.”

“Hush, lass.” He patted her kindly on the
shoulder, making her stagger a bit. “Who you warm your bed with is your own
business. I mean nothing by it.” There was a pleasant stirring under his chiton
at the thought, and he hoped that Amphitrite had returned from wherever she’d
been going for the last few weeks. “In fact, I’m of a mood to do some warming
myself if my consort is home, so if you don’t mind—”

Something ugly flickered across the
goddess’s face for a moment, then disappeared as if it had never been there.
“Amphitrite?” the Goddess of Love said with the sweetest of smiles. “She’s
probably with your
agapetos
, sea lord.”

Some of the alcoholic haze left Poseidon’s
brain. “My—what?”

“Your
agapetos
?
Didn’t Amphitrite tell you?” Aphrodite said, eyes wide and innocent. “You have
a second mate, and she’s quite the young beauty. Her name is Medusa, if memory
serves me right, and she is a handmaiden at Athena’s temple.”

Poseidon blinked at that. Since his
marriage to Amphitrite he had known that there was another mate out there
waiting for them. Hadn’t he spent decades winnowing through the loveliest
nymphs, demigoddesses, and maidens he could find searching for her? And there
she was, practically under his nose.

A wisp of common sense poked through his
drunkenness.
Yes, there she is, serving
in Athena’s temple. And that grey-eyed battleaxe isn’t likely to hand her over,
agapetos
or not.

He straightened, barely weaving. “Thank
you for your information, Lady Aphrodite,” he announced. “It is much
appreciated.”

An odd, self-satisfied look sleeked over
the goddess’s face. “May you receive what you so richly deserve, Lord
Poseidon,” she said, before turning and heading off to her own palace.

It didn’t occur to him until it was far
too late that Aphrodite’s parting words weren’t a blessing.

****

Sneaking into the compound behind Athena’s
temple was simply a matter of making himself invisible. It was difficult to
hold in his chuckles as he strolled straight past the unaware guards. But his
niece had been his foe and competitor in too many things over the centuries,
and he knew she wouldn’t take kindly to his suddenly appearing in her demesnes.

And quite frankly, he was feeling far too
good to tolerate Athena’s waspishness. He had an
agapetos
to seduce, after all.

Clever
Ammie
, finding her before I did. You always were quicker
than me, my love.

After some hunting he found the small,
clean cubicles where the priests and priestesses slept, carefully divided by
sex so that there would be no hanky-panky going on. He glanced at each sleeping
form, but none of them matched Aphrodite’s description.

She has to be here
somewhere.
Exploring, he stumbled across a small courtyard that was open to the sky. There,
a beautiful girl stood nude in the moonlight, washing herself.

Even sozzled he could feel the
irresistible pull emanating from her. This had to be Medusa.
Gaia’s tits, Aphrodite was right. She is
exquisite.
With small, pert breasts and slender hips, she was a delicate
ivory rosebud to Amphitrite’s fully bloomed beauty, and the contrast made him
want to weep with lust. The very thought of having them both in bed with him—it
was too delicious to contemplate, not if he didn’t want to spill on the
courtyard’s stones right then and there.

He stepped forward, one of his sandals
grinding softly on the flagstone. Medusa spun with a laugh, obviously thinking
that one of her compatriots had risen to join her.
Or is she expecting Amphitrite? Have they made love in this courtyard
already?

The girl froze when she saw him. It was
too dark for a mortal to make out details, but undoubtedly his height and
shoulder breadth had given him away. She snatched up her linen towel and held
it to her breasts. “How dare you intrude in the goddess’s temple without
invitation!” she cried.

Poseidon shrugged. “I would have asked,
but I doubt if she’d have let me in.”

His
agapetos
’s
chin came up at that.
“Leave this place,” she ordered, “or the wrath of the Lady Athena will fall upon
your head.”

He laughed. “It wouldn’t be the first time
my niece was angry with me. I’m certain it won’t be the last.” He held his
trident up. “Light.”

The barbed tines burst into golden light,
revealing himself. Medusa’s huge dark eyes widened even more as she recognized
him.

“M-my lord Poseidon,” she stammered,
dropping to her knees. “I apologize. I never expected to see you here.”

“So I gathered.” He cocked his head to the
side as he considered her. “You’re everything she said you were, my sweet,” he
said, leaning a bit on his trident. “Come, get off your knees. You shouldn’t
kneel to your
agapetos
. At least, not
unless you want to.”

He leered a bit at that, imagining those
perfect pink lips wrapping around his straining shaft.
Ooh, and if Amphitrite joined in, wouldn’t that be delightful...

The girl got to her feet, struggling to
wrap the towel around her. “May I ask what you’re doing here at this time of
night, my lord?” she said, her voice trembling.