Goddess of Spring (19 page)

Lina reached out and grasped the little spirit's hand. Eurydice's hand was cold and Lina could feel the silent tremors that shook her body.

“I free you,” Lina said through her tears. “You may return to your life with your husband. Now I understand your sadness, and I am so happy I can do this for you.”

Eurydice gasped in surprise. Her body trembled visibly and her mouth twisted in grief.

“Oh, honey! Don't worry about me. I'll be just fine. Iapis will take good care of me, as will Hades.” Lina squeezed the girl's hand, glancing at Hades for support.

The dark god was watching Eurydice closely.

“Persephone has spoken. I bow to her decision. I have but one condition.” Hades' gaze speared Orpheus. “Eurydice may return to the Land of the Living only if you do not look back at her; you must trust that she follows you. When you turn from this palace you may not gaze upon her again until she has departed my realm and stands firmly once more in the mortal world.”

“I will adhere to your will. She will follow me, of that I have no doubt.” Orpheus bowed low to Hades and Lina. “Hereafter I will sing praises to you extolling your benevolence.” His eyes captured Eurydice and his words turned to liquid music:

 

Orpheus strummed magic from his lyre. With one last piercing look at his wife, he turned, and, singing his Siren's song, he walked from the Great Hall. Eurydice began to follow him as if he held her on an invisible tether. She stumbled down the stairs from the dais, righted herself and continued with jerky steps after her husband. She glanced once over her shoulder. Lina was shocked at the glazed expression in the girl's eyes. Eurydice looked as if she were in agony.

Orpheus, his music and Eurydice drifted from the Palace of Hades.

Hades spoke into the sudden silence. “Petitions are closed for today.”

Iapis stuck the spear against the marble floor and the group of women bowed to Lina once more before they faded out of the entryway, leaving her alone with Hades and Iapis.

None of them spoke.

Lina couldn't get out of her mind the expression on Eurydice's face as she followed her husband from the room. The girl had looked—Lina wrapped a strand of hair around and around her finger—trapped. Eurydice had looked trapped. Now that Orpheus and his seductive music were gone, and Lina was replaying the scene in her head, it felt wrong. Her intuition was screaming that something was very wrong.

“I'm going to go back to my room now,” Lina said, trying to sound nonchalant. She smiled briefly at Hades. “Thank you for inviting me. I found it very interesting.” She hurried down the dais steps, holding her breath and hoping that Hades didn't stop her. She called to Iapis, who was still standing in the entrance to the Hall. “Could you show me back to my room? I think I'm going to take a nap. The excitement of the petitions has worn me out.”

Lina saw Iapis' eyes travel questioningly over her shoulder, but he must have received the go ahead from Hades, because he nodded convivially to Lina and led her from the Great Hall. When they were out of Hades' hearing, Lina stopped and pulled at the daimon's sleeve so that he had to face her.

“Something's wrong with Eurydice. I can feel it. Well, I didn't while Orpheus was playing his music, but as soon as he was gone everything changed,” Lina said.

“What is it you wish, Goddess?” Iapis asked, lowering his voice.

“I need to follow them.” Lina didn't realize what she was going to say until she had spoken, but the words felt right. “I have to watch and make sure that I made the right decision by letting her go back to him.”

Iapis nodded solemnly. “We would not want her to be hurt.”

“No, we wouldn't.”

“Come this way,” Iapis said decisively. He led Lina quickly to the front of the palace. “There is the pathway.” He pointed to the path of black marble. “She is not far ahead of you.”

“Thank you, Iapis.” Lina hugged him impulsively before she hurried down the path.

“The Underworld is opened to you, Goddess,” Iapis called after her.

“You may come and go at will. Eurydice belongs here. She, too, has access to this realm. But Orpheus is a living mortal. Once he passes through the Gates, he may not return as long as he is living.”

“I'll remember,” she called over her shoulder.

 

 

“PERSEPHONE follows Eurydice?” Hades asked the daimon.

“Yes.”

Hades paced the empty Great Hall restlessly. “Orpheus was hiding something. His music spun a web of seduction, but his words were false. The little spirit did not want to follow him.”

“I agree, Lord,” Iapis said fiercely.

Hades stopped his pacing. “You care for Eurydice.” It was not a question.

“I do,” Iapis said.

“Are you certain?”

“Eurydice makes me laugh. I have not laughed in eons.”

“Do you know her heart?” Hades asked softly.

“There has not yet been time, and she is so young,” Iapis said helplessly.

Hades nodded. “Women are difficult.”

“They are indeed.”

“Bring me the Helmet of Invisibility. I will follow Persephone. It may take my intercession to right this error.”

Relief flooded the daimon's face. “Thank you, Lord.”

Hades' eyes warmed and he grasped Iapis' hand. “You need not thank me, my friend.”

Iapis rushed to the pillar that held the Helmet of Invisibility. He grasped it firmly in his hands. As always, its weight was a surprise to the daimon. It appeared so lightly wrought, yet it was, indeed, a heavy burden to bear. He brought the Helmet to the Lord of the Underworld.

Hades took it from the daimon. Then he paused, considering.

“Iapis, I need you to look into something.”

“Of course, Lord.”

“See if Aeneas has recently entered Elysia.”

“It shall be done, Hades.”

The god nodded. Then in one swift motion, he placed the Helmet of Invisibility over his head. The pain that lanced through his body was excruciating. He pressed his lips together and refused to give in to the agony. It would pass, he reminded himself—nothing worthwhile comes without a price. He breathed deeply against the pain until his senses were his own again.

Iapis watched the god's body ripple and then disappear. He spoke to the empty space before him, “Bring them back, Lord.”

Hades' answer floated to the daimon from across the room. “I shall. . . .”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LINA fell into a rhythm of hurry up and slow down. She managed to keep Eurydice's back just at the edge of her sight, while staying out of the reach of Orpheus' music.

“Doesn't he ever get tired?” She muttered to herself. When she considered the situation with a clear head, versus one filled with the compelling notes formed by a magician masquerading as a musician, it hadn't been difficult to see the drug-like effect Orpheus' music had on everyone and everything that heard it. The dead paused in their pilgrimages to Elysia as he passed. Flowers and trees swayed toward him. Even Lina found herself smiling ridiculously if she got too close to his voice.

“Ugh. He reminds me of too-sweet candy. He seems great at first, but pretty soon he'll just make me want to puke.” Lina talked to herself, taking comfort in the nonhypnotic sound of her own voice while nodding briefly to the surprised spirits that curtsied and bowed as she hurried past them. “I should have been wiser. I should have paid more attention to Eurydice than to that singing boy. And I shouldn't have been so damn cocky after that whole Dido thing.” She bit her lip in frustration.

The sky ahead of her was changing and a chill of trepidation shivered through her. She knew all too well that the fading light signaled the end of the bright, cheery part of the Underworld. She was retracing the path she and Eurydice had traveled from the upper world.

Lina ordered herself not to think about the bad dreams and the darkness. If Eurydice was going through it again; so would she.

Ahead of her she heard maniacal barking. Then the faraway music grew louder and the fierce barks changed to puppy-like grunts and whimpers. Lina shook her head. What the hell—she cringed at the unintentional bad pun—was Orpheus doing? Steeling herself against his compelling song, she picked up her pace until she was jogging at a steady beat. Persephone's long legs carried her swiftly forward. Her breathing was deep and even. She smiled in satisfaction. Persephone's body wasn't just young, it was also in great shape.

The road angled abruptly to her left and she stagger-stepped down to a walk. Blocking the pathway directly in front of her was a humongous dog.

The creature raised its head and growled a menacing warning. Lina blinked, trying to clear her vision, but the image remained.

“The damn thing has three heads,” she gasped.

The “damn thing” growled.

Lina tightened her jaw. It was just a dog. Sure, the biggest dog she had ever seen. And it had—
merda!
—three heads.

The creature snarled a warning. Saliva dripped from its triple jowls.

Jowls?

Lina's face split into a relieved grin as soon as her stunned mind processed what she was seeing. The dog was nothing more than a giant version of Edith Anne, complete with slobber and under bite—times three.

Her laughter caused three sets of stubby ears to perk in her direction.

Lina hurried forward, speaking in what she liked to think of as her “doggie voice,” (which was
much
different than her “cat voice”—cats didn't tolerate baby talk of any sort).

“Hey there you big, adorable thing!” she cooed.

Three tails wagged tentatively.

“Aren't you a wonderful surprise. And to think I was just missing my Edith Anne. Well, I guess I'll just have to make you my big, bad Doggie From Hell while I'm here.” She was within touching distance of the multiheaded creature.

“Arrwoo?” said the beast.

“Edith always liked her ears scratched. Bend down here and let's give it a try.” She reached her slender hand up toward one of the six ears. The creature tilted its nearest head in her direction.

Lina scratched.

One of the beast's heads sighed and leaned into her hand, almost knocking Lina over. The other two heads whined piteously.

“There's a good doggie.” Lina grinned, patting the middle head's slobbery nose, causing the third dog to yelp like a needy puppy. “Oh, come here. How about a scratch under that chin?”

While Lina cooed and petted and cajoled she searched her mind for a name.

“Well, you're falling down on the job, big boy,” Lina said.

The dog whined and all three heads gave her pitiful, big-eyed doggie looks.

“Don't feel bad, Orpheus fooled me, too.”

Three tails beat the air.

“Okay, here's the deal. I'm going to follow the shyster musician and Eurydice. You just be sure that Mr. Goldentongue doesn't get past you again.” Lina tried to meet all three sets of eyes. “Understand?”

Cerberus squirmed and woofed.

“I've seen enough Lassie reruns to know a doggie ‘yes' when I hear one. Be a good boy, ur, boys. I'll see you on my way back.” With a final ear scratch Lina left the Guardian of the Underworld wriggling and yapping like a happy puppy(s). She hurried so that she was soon jogging with a quick, but steady pace.

 

 

“I should cease being surprised by her actions,” Hades murmured to himself. He watched Persephone bespell Cerberus as she had his steeds. Safe within the Helmet of Invisibility, he had followed the goddess closely enough to hear her berate herself about allowing Orpheus' music to sway her judgment. She was much wiser than she knew. Hadn't he felt the pull of the mortal's words, too? And he was a mature god, experienced in commanding his realm.

True, she was a goddess, but she was really just a child. Even so, she continued to show amazing insight and maturity. For instance, his instinct was telling him that Iapis would report that Aeneas had indeed just entered Elysia. How had Persephone recognized Dido's deception when all he had observed was a lovely feminine soul unaccustomed to being in the presence of immortals? And then she had stood up to him, not with the blinding temper of an irate goddess, but with logic and insight and, he chuckled remembering the bet she had proposed, wit. Before she had come to his realm, he would have never believed it of Persephone, but there was definitely more to her than a shallow young goddess.

Persephone fondled Cerberus and Hades felt a sudden surge of jealousy for the attention she was lavishing on the slobbering, three-headed creature. The God ground his teeth. He wanted her to touch him. It shocked him, but he could not deny it. He was beginning to wonder if what Iapis had said was true, that perhaps it was better to experience even a small bit of happiness than none at all.

The very thought made his hands sweat.

 

AS she jogged down the road, Lina decided that she'd have to come back and visit the three-headed dog. Maybe she'd bring him a treat. Edith Anne loved Bacos. Surely Hell's kitchen could fry her up a little bacon snack. She thought about the creature's size—okay, maybe she'd have them fry up a
big
bacon snack.