Desperate Housewives of Olympus (9 page)

“Whatever, Ma. What are you going to wear?”

“This?” She motioned down at herself.

“No.”

“Are you sure Hypnos is the gay one?” She didn’t see what was wrong with what she had on. Jeans and a soft, cotton t-shirt were her favorite things to wear.

“Bisexual, Ma.”

“Whatever. He’s a brand snob like Jean Pierre. I’m surprised they don’t shop together and take you with them.”

“You can call me gay until the golden sheep wander home, but that won’t change the fact you’re not leaving this temple to go out with
my
friend in
that.
”

She had to fight a smile. It was odd, but in the old days, none of the gods or goddesses labeled themselves or their orientation. During the time with the Greeks, it was a free for all. The same with the Romans. And then modern civilization happened and suddenly, orientation was a big deal. It pleased her to see that her son wasn’t one of those. And it totally blew that stereotype out of the water—Thanatos was as straight as they made them and he had an impeccable sense of style. Although, from his own attire, it wasn’t immediately obvious.

“And what would you suggest, Mr. Makeover, The Olympus Edition?”

“The red Dolce.”

“No way.” She put her foot down. Nyx wasn’t wearing that dress on a first date with Apollo or
anyone
.

“Why not?”

“I don’t have any shoes.” It was true. She didn’t.

“You could borrow something from Hera’s closet. Her new look is hot.”

“Isn’t she? I am so proud of her.” Nyx clucked like a proud mama.

“Ma, while we’re talking about Hera, you should know I’ve seen that my work will take me very close to her. You too.”

“What do you mean?” Nyx knew damn well what he meant, but she had to hear him say it.

“I don’t know what you guys are planning, but someone is going to die.”

“I’m a titan. I can’t die.”

“Zeus could kill you. Or make you suffer. Don’t do that to me. Don’t make me escort you to Elysium.”

“Son, I am the night. I am eternal. Not like some of the others.”

“Persephone’s on the list too,” he said quietly, pushing the fig cake around with his fork.

“She can’t die either. This is crazy.”

“You know if a goddess chooses her own end, or… It doesn’t matter. I won’t take her. So she won’t die. Problem solved.”

Nyx kept her mouth shut about his responsibilities and how he couldn’t simply pick and choose which souls he did the job for. Thanatos had been Death for a very long time. He knew what his job required and what his responsibilities were. He also knew the consequences if he failed to do his job. He’d decided. Changing his mind was like trying to bail the Aegean with a thimble. She knew better.

“If you’re sure that’s the wisest course of action,” she said in her “mother” tone that told him she knew better than he did and she’d meddle even if the words coming out of her mouth were conciliatory.

“I am.” His jaw was a hard line and Nyx knew from the look on his face, he was set on this course of action regardless of what it bought.

“I’ll visit you in Tartarus,” Nyx sighed.

“Glad you understand.”

“I have to say one thing,” she began hesitantly.

“I knew you would.”

“No, really. It’s important. I’m your mother. You’ll allow me this and you’ll listen.”

“Yes, Ma.”

He stopped pushing his food around and looked up at her expectantly. His dark eyes were so earnest and in that moment, he looked like his father, Nod. He was long dead to the sands of time and memory, but it comforted her to see that bit of him in her son. At least
that
part of Nod. The bastard part was well-lost and she hoped it was never to be found again.

“You’re a good boy,” Nyx said as she pulled herself out of her memory.

“Was that what you had to say?”

“No, I was just thinking you looked so much like Nod there for a moment.” She worried her lip to keep from saying anything else too emotional. Nyx wasn’t a sniffly sort of goddess. She was more balls to the wall, pedal to the metal and only cried if no one would ever see her or those who had seen it weren’t only dead, but obliterated from existence.

“Hades had Persephone for centuries. Do you understand what that means?”

“She’ll be in her comfort zone if I kidnap her?” He cocked his head to the side.

A dark thundercloud gathered above them.

“Sorry, it was there. I had to take it.” He held up his hands. “Okay, not funny. I get it.”

“You don’t know what happened between them. But Hades let her go because he loved her. She may have feelings for him, Thanatos. Even if you give up everything to save her, she may want to go back to Hades.”

“I know that.” He looked down at his plate.

“Do you? Do you
really
?”

“I wouldn’t want to cause her any pain. Or Hades. He’s not a bad guy. Dresses a bit like an Alice, what with all the velvet and whatnot. Chicks seem to dig it though.” Thanatos scowled.

“Oh, you’re bringing it too with your Matrix trench and shades.”

“You think so?” he said as if he didn’t know it.

“It’s already obvious Persephone likes dark and tortured. Just don’t let her make you any
more
dark and tortured, okay? I get that you like the dark, you’re my son. But don’t get lost in it.”

“I won’t. You taught me well.” He crammed the last bit of cake into his mouth. “So it’s a no on the red Dolce?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she admonished. “Gods, Thanatos. Do you remember to brush your teeth when I’m not there?”

“Sometimes.”

“They say for the mortals it’s when boys start liking girls they remember to do things like shower. It seems that’s not the case with you.” Nyx shook her head.

He grinned and showed his teeth. “They’re perfect.”

“All but that bit of fig you’ve got stuck in the front.” She pointed at the offending fruit.

Thanatos snapped his mouth shut. “We were talking about you.”

“I guess.”

“Wear something besides black.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Ma, you’re a chick. In case that slipped by you. We like to see females dressed, well, feminine.”

“Are you implying I am
not
feminine?”

Thanatos shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Sometimes. Black has gotten to be your muumuu,” he said as if he were almost afraid to say it where she could hear.

“WHAT?” Nyx wasn’t a muumuu sort of goddess either. In fact, she’d see herself strung up in Tartarus before she’d ever run around in a muumuu.

“It’s your standard house wear, it’s no better than PJs.”

“Still not wearing the Dolce.”

“Fine. What about that silver dress you used to wear to the Fairy Ball?”

Eh, she could do that. It was comfortable, a little jazzy, kind of like a Disney princess dress—which she secretly adored. A little sexy too. It would look great with her hair.

“I’ll take that, but I’m wearing flats.”

“Good. Apollo is only 6’2. It would be tacky if you were towering over him like some Boudicea.”

“Only if he’s not secure in his godhood.” She flashed a smirk at him. In fact, it was the same one he’d been giving her all day. They were two peas in an immortal pod.

“Why must you be difficult?”

“The same reason you are, I imagine.”

Thanatos looked for another cake and promptly shoved the whole thing in his mouth. “I’m staying the night, so if you want to bang him, do it at his temple, okay?”

“If you’re all good with Mom shacking up with your friend, it should be fine if she does it in her own home, shouldn’t it?” Nyx said just to be perverse.

“And this is what I’ll be telling my shrink next week,” he shot back through cake crumbs.

“You have a shrink?”

“No, but I’ll probably need one after this.” Thanatos sounded certain.

“Good. I haven’t done my job as a mother until you need therapy. I’m sorry it’s taken this long, darling.”

“Wouldn’t it be more romantic in the back of his chariot?”

“I should smack you in the mouth. You better not ever have a girl in the back of your chariot.”

“I ride a pale horse, Ma.”

“Whatever.”

“Are you going to get ready or he is going to see you in your muumuu?”

“It’s not a muumuu.”

“You look like shit.”

“Thank you.” She employed her long-suffering mommy tone.

“Tell it to your shrink.”

“I just might, Thanatos. I just might.” She nodded seriously before turning to go to her room to change. “By the way, your room is just like you left it. If you really want to stay.”

“I’ll be here when you get home in the morning.”

“Awfully presumptuous of you to assume I’ll be gone all night,” Nyx said as she shut the door behind her.

“Common sense. You’re going to drive the chariot, right? Not until dawn. Hello, were you listening?” He taunted her through the door.

Oh. Right. Did she really want to hang out
all night
just to drive some stupid horse across the sky?

Hell yes.

DEMETER

Demeter awoke to the sound of a male voice outside her window. Rather than darting to the glass to look outside, she lay quietly in the shadows and listened.

“Heard melodies are sweet, yet those unheard are sweeter. Therefore, ye soft pipes play on…” His voice faded for a moment. “All breathing human passion far above—,”

Keats. He was reciting Keats to Persephone.
Ode on a Grecian Urn
. That had been a favorite of hers. She remembered how the muses had danced when he’d written it; they’d been so bright, so powerful. He’d fed them well and died young. Demeter remembered that too, seeing them ghost around Olympus in their black flowing gowns, their mourning veils and their wails of sorrow.

To be the object of such devotion to inspire such poetry. She wondered if Hades had whispered poetry to Persephone as well, if his words were sweet with soft touches. Demeter was dying anyway and Persephone’s misery hadn’t saved her. She hated her more for that, but hated herself too.

“Golden absinthe mist will forget, Hemlock whispers passed to these love stained lips.” He’d begun another poem, this one she didn’t recognize and slipped from the bed and stood in the shadow, peering out into the darkness.

It was Eros as she’d suspected, but he wasn’t speaking to Persephone. He was outside of her window reciting from memory, looking up at her window. She closed her eyes against the sensation it wrought in her. A strange, bitter hope, fleeting touches of warmth and a sadness so deep she could drown in it. Until she reminded herself he was nothing but a silly godling.

No
, a part of her protested. He was a godling no more, but a god in his own right. Virile and male in every way. He wanted her enough to whisper sweet words outside her temple window where anyone, even her daughter could hear. Demeter knew she should shoo him away, bid him to be quiet and keep such silliness to himself, but she couldn’t. One more verse couldn’t hurt.

“Folly strings her harp with silver spun tears…”

Oh, but it
did
hurt. His words struck home like an Amazon’s spear and pierced all of her soft places. It was folly, all of it and now Demeter would have to pay the piper and the sounds of sorrow would be the only music in her ears.

“An invitation to Lethe’s hearth, to drift eternal in the black sea. Eyes luminous like twin stars, overfilling their cups of sorrow and wrath.”

Did he know her so well? How could he have looked inside of her; seen her sorrow and wrath and still want her? It wasn’t possible. What did a virgin know about the secret depths of a woman’s heart, even if he was the God of Love?

The timber of his voice slid over her in a caress. Her fingers were on the window sill, ready to fling it open and invite him in, but something stayed her hand. Her time was over, did it really matter if she took this one bit of pleasure for herself, this one moment out of time to touch and be touched? Yet still, she didn’t move, she was frozen.

“Can you hear me, Demeter, or do you sleep still? I don’t need to look into your heart to know what’s there.”

She pressed her palm to the glass and suddenly, his hand was next to hers on the pane. He stood behind her, her body molded to the contours of his. His breath was warm on her neck and the heat of him infused her. His cock was thick against her backside and it was impossible for Demeter not to tilt her hips against him.

His arm slid around her waist to anchor her to him while his other hand explored the length of her thigh and the curve of her hip while hitching her gown out of his way. She didn’t speak, she didn’t want to shatter the moment, but so many questions burned on the tip of her tongue.

Eros moved the arm around her waist, shifted so it was around her hips and then splayed his hand over her mound. He delved into her wet folds, stroked the engorged flesh with measured motions. As if he’d done this a thousand times before to a thousand different women. She knew he hadn’t though. Knew it in the core of her being.

His lips brushed against the delicate skin of her neck and she twisted in his grasp to face him. Demeter looked into his eyes for a long moment before she moved. It wasn’t as if she were taking this time to decide what she was going to do; she knew what was going to happen between them. It was somehow inevitable.

She’d savor this moment because nothing would ever be the same after it. A rare thing indeed to stand on the precipice of change and know exactly what it was and to be able to choose accordingly. Irony at its best, because while it
seemed
Demeter was free to choose, she was not. She could no more deny Eros than she could turn the tide. Demeter could give it a damn good try, but she couldn’t do it alone.

Eros wanted her and so he would have her there on her bed, but he would leave her empty and needing all the things she told herself she didn’t want. As soon as he’d had what he wanted from her, he’d see everything inside of her whether he wanted to or not. All the things that had kept him chaste—kept him from opening himself to another—they were all there waiting to drown him in acid betrayal.