Aphrodite (8 page)

Chapter X

“APHRODITE, YOU made it.” Persephone’s arms wrapped around me in a tight hug when I entered her dreamscape.

“Persephone . . .” I pulled away to look down at the short goddess, smirking at her Sailor Moon nightshirt. “We talked about this. What happened to all the clothes I sent you?”

“They don’t stay on.”

I gave Persephone a knowing look. “That was kind of the point.”

Persephone turned bright red. “No, I mean the—” She plucked at the collar of her shirt. “The straps kept falling, and it got all twisty while I slept, and . . .” She continued babbling, trying to correct her verbal blunder, but only succeeded at getting more flustered. “How’s the cruise?” she asked, giving up.

“Eh, it’s been interesting so far.” I glanced around, surprised to find myself in a golden meadow. Splashes of colors from indistinct wildflowers bloomed along the landscape. The heady scent of flora hung in air thick with sunshine. A picnic blanket, decorated with rows of giant daisies, wrinkled beneath me every time I shifted my feet.

“Have a seat.” Persephone released me and sat cross-legged on the blanket. “What have you figured out so far?”

I filled her in, leaving out the threatening bits with Poseidon.

“Wow, you’ve been busy.” She grinned, gratitude shining in her expression. “Thanks again for looking into this. So who do you think is charming all the passengers? The demigoddess?”

“I don’t know.” I hesitated. “Do you think there could be another goddess out there like me? I mean, maybe the way I was created . . .”

Persephone narrowed her green eyes in thought. “I don’t think that’s likely. Zeus gave you
so
much charm,
and
he kept enough for himself to charm me. Even with the remains of a Titan supercharging your powers, or however that worked, do you think he could he have spared enough to make a whole ’nother god?” She plucked a flower from the ground, spinning the stem between her thumb and forefinger.

Zeus had created me using the remains of Uranus’s dead body to act as my second parent and enhance my charm. Don’t ask. It seriously just gets weirder.

“I could be wrong, though,” Persephone backtracked. “I’m not exactly an expert.”

With that inspiring bit of confidence from our fearless leader, I leaned back on my elbows, drinking in the bright sunshine, and floated another theory. “Any Titans break free from the Underworld?”

Persephone shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of. Did any of the Titans even have charm?”

“One of them had to.” Gods passed on their powers in lieu of genetic material. New powers hadn’t manifested since Chaos.

“Which one?” Persephone peeled a yellow petal off the flower. A strip of green stem followed in the petal’s wake. “I can look into it, see if they’re still secure in Tartarus.”

“Probably Uranus given, you know, me. But almost no knowledge from The Before got passed down beyond the first generation.” Knowledge is power, after all.

The first generation referred to Hades, Poseidon, Zeus, Demeter, Hestia, and Hera. The original siblings who kick-started human creation. They called everything before creation The Before because they were super creative like that.

Persephone frowned. “I’ll find out. Honestly, I’d like to have a sit-down with a Titan or two anyway.”

I jolted up in surprise. “With a Titan?
Why
?”

Persephone hesitated. “I’m having a hard time negotiating all this new power. It’s too much, and I’m too new. Every time I get a handle on it, the rules change. Maybe they’ll have some advice.”

“Probably, but they have no reason to share it. They weren’t exactly nice. And what do you mean, the rules change?” I eased back down on the blanket, resting on my elbows again, but instead of tilting my head up to the sun, I kept my gaze trained on her.

She shrugged, pulling another petal free from the flower. “When I first arrived in the Underworld and started training, the lessons were almost theoretic. I had pretty much no power to work with, so I learned how to teleport and charm and all that without any real fuel behind it. But everything changed when my name went public.”

I nodded, familiar with the story. Most gods came into being fully grown and capable of using their powers, like me. But when gods want the experience of raising a child, they go through the whole baby-making process and start from scratch, creating deities like Persephone, who are born and age until maturity, coming into their powers bit by bit along the way. Their bodies can’t
handle
the full scope of divinity before then. Persephone had only just begun coming into her powers when Hades had offered her refuge in the Underworld. But then she allowed a rock star she idolized, Orpheus, to take his wife back to the living realm, and he thanked her in a way other gods have killed for. He took his story public, telling the whole world about his adventures and the benevolent goddess, Persephone, who helped him save his wife. With the assistance of his concert venues, fans, and media connections, the story went viral. Worship fuels power, so the more people talked about Orpheus’s crazy new cult, the more power Persephone gained. Since she couldn’t handle power yet, Hades helped her channel the excess into her training, then siphoned whatever was left away so the energy wouldn’t burn through her.

She sighed. “Now that I’ve actually come into my powers, this is a whole different game. Before, I needed to throw as much energy as I possibly could into every single thing I did, just to survive another day. Now I’m supposed to try to conserve it?”

“Worship doesn’t last forever,” I reminded her. “Conservation is how your mom and the others survived so long after the fall of Olympus.”

“I know. I’m just having a hard time figuring out how to accomplish all the same stuff with a lighter touch. I practically have to relearn everything.”

“You could pass some of your powers on.”

She shook her head. “The only god I trust enough to give Zeus’s realm to is you, but since you’re sworn to me, that doesn’t actually alleviate the pressure and—”

“It would be a political nightmare.” Plus, I wasn’t interested in running a realm. I had enough on my plate right now. “Athena’s the oldest without a realm. She’d be the logical choice.”

Persephone shook her head. “I don’t trust her, she’s too Machiavellian.”

“It’s not as if Zeus’s realm has sentient life anymore. Who’s she going to hurt?”

“I don’t know. I just . . . don’t trust her.”

“There are other options.”

“Yeah, but I’m not ready to create life right now.” She rolled her eyes. “Mine is complicated enough as it is.”

“Fair enough.” I smiled and looked up at the bright blue sky. Later, when she wasn’t so stressed, I’d help her fix this dreamscape up. Ambient sounds were nice. This place was too quiet, too Silent Spring-ish. If she added a breeze, maybe some birds chirping, leaves rustling in the wind, that sort of thing, this dreamscape would be all right. “With all the power you got from Zeus, Triton, and your mom, not to mention all the worship you get from gods, humans, and souls, you’ve got tons of time to figure it all out.”

“Yeah, except . . .” She dropped the mutilated flower into her lap and brushed her hands against her white skirt. “I
can’t
throw as much power into stuff as I used to or—” she broke off, swallowing hard.

“Or what?” I rolled onto my stomach, so I could see Persephone without craning my neck, and folded my hands beneath my chin, crossing my feet in the air behind me.

Fear flashed in her eyes. “
Stuff
happens.”

Could she be more vague? I opened my mouth, ready to demand to know what
kind
of “stuff” happened, when the dreamscape shuddered, and I felt a pulling sensation. “Guess you’re waking up. See you tonight? We can talk more, okay?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Persephone waved, and the dreamscape went black around her. I blinked, and found myself back at the customer service desk with a crick in my neck.

Yawning, I printed off the passenger list for this cruise, complete with thumbnail images. After I tracked down Miguel and charmed him and a healthy chunk of the crew into searching all the available records for demigods, I headed back to the elevators. The sheer amount of paper I carried could have accounted for an entire forest.

“Let me help you.” Tantalus’s voice came from somewhere to the left of the mountain of papers. I craned my neck and saw him reaching toward the stack.

“Have at it.” I dumped the pile in his arms.

Tantalus grunted under the unexpected weight and followed me into the glass elevator. “Waking up, or heading to bed?”

I punched the button for my deck and watched as the atrium dropped away.

Tantalus raised his eyebrows when I didn’t reply. “What is all this?”

“Paper.”

He laughed. “No kidding, but what’s it for?”

The elevator dinged and I stepped off. “This way.” I dropped the shield around the room, unlocked the door, and flipped on the light.

Tantalus walked into the room, his head turning as he glanced around with unabashed interest. “So, wanna—”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Adonis’s angry voice echoed from the staircase, where he stood casting a bleary-eyed glare down at Tantalus.

“Manual labor.” I smiled at Tantalus. “You can put those down over there.” I motioned to the countertop.

Adonis was there before Tantalus made it to the kitchen, relieving him of the papers and not so subtly herding him back out into the hall. “Thanks,” he said, slamming the door behind Tantalus.

“Wow,” I stared at the closed door. “You
really
don’t like him.”

“What tipped you off?” Adonis managed a tight smile then glanced at his watch. “You know what else I don’t like?” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Being locked in my room all night with no way out. I’m running late, thanks to you.”

“Late?” The sun wasn’t up yet. “Late for what?”

“I need to head to the gym before the shoot. Look—” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “You don’t have to come, but I can’t get out of the room without your help, so if you could just—”

The shield. Right. “No, I’ll go. Give me a minute to get ready.”

Chapter XI

“YOU KNOW YOU don’t have to actually do the workouts with me, right?” Adonis held out a water bottle as we exited the gym.

I took it and took a long drink. I’d kept up with him the entire time, but just barely. “I’ve never exercised before,” I gasped. “I figured anything that works up that much of a sweat had to be fun.”

“So, guess this means super speed, strength, and all that stuff is a myth.” Adonis steered me down the hall.

“Not exactly. I”—I motioned up and down my body—“am a slightly more than perfect version of a human female, with my exact build at their absolute prime and in top health. Way back when humanity had no clue how their bodies worked, much less the knowledge or resources to take care of themselves, it made a pretty notable difference. Now—” I shrugged. “Not so much. Of course you’d outpace me. You’re taller, you have a more muscular build, and you dedicate a ton of time keeping yourself in great shape. Plus, you’re a demigod. That gives you a boost anyway.”

A smile played on Adonis’s lips. “Whatever. I outran a god today. I’m just gonna bask in that for a bit.”

“Bask away.” I waved my hands, as though granting him permission.

After we got cleaned up and ready, we made our way down to the conference rooms on the other side of the ship. Adonis kept up a steady stream of playful banter, but there was an undercurrent of aggravation to it. He didn’t want me here. I couldn’t blame him for not being thrilled with having a shadow at work. It couldn’t have been fun to be locked in his room all night, or facing down angry sea deities on my behalf. Whatever alcohol-induced warmth existed between us last night had fled in the harsh light of day. But at least he was making an effort to be civil rather than openly hostile. Two steps forward, one step back.

As soon as he walked through the door of the conference room, a woman came at me with a make-up brush. “Oh, I don’t need makeup,” I said.

She smiled in a way that looked decidedly unfriendly, her teeth glittering against her dark skin. “You’re the new girl, huh? The one added to the shoots
after
all the clothes and supplies were packed and loaded onto the ship,
completely
screwing up any semblance of order we might have experienced for the rest of the week?”

I flashed my teeth at her, taking in the small mirrored room as another woman directed Adonis to a chair next to Elise. “That’s me.”

At the sound of my voice, Elise opened her eyes. “Really?” she said, turning to Adonis. “Tell me you two aren’t here for the deodorant shot.”

“Nah, clothing,” Adonis replied. “We’re in conference room C.”

“Well, princess,” the makeup technician said, drawing my attention back to her, “you may not need makeup day-to-day, but if you don’t want to look like a bleached-out spirit dragging Adonis off to the netherworld, then you’re going to stand still and let us do our work.” She looked me up and down, her eyes narrowing in appraisal. “Let’s see what we’ve got in your size.”

Over the next half hour, they poked, prodded, and painted me while I tried not to seethe at the insult.

Worse, they completely ignored me. The makeup artists chatted over my head about the shift in the schedule as they curled my eyelashes and filed my fingernails.

“I’m just saying, it’s not his call,” one said, spritzing my hair with something that smelled like citrus.

The other looked up from filing my nails. “Might as well be. Have you ever heard anyone say no to that man?”

“Are you talking about Narcissus?” I hadn’t sensed any power coming from the demigod, but their description sounded an awful lot like charm.

“Don’t move, dear.” The stylist yanked at my hair, working the citrusy stuff into the curls.

“Forget about Narcissus.” Elise studied me in the mirror. “Do you have
any
idea what you’re walking into?”

“Adonis,” someone called from the other conference room. “We’re ready for you.”

“You mean, am I ready to stand around and have my picture taken?” I craned my neck to keep Adonis in sight as they whisked him away.

“Stay
still.
” A woman with bobby pins sticking out of her mouth snapped, yanking my head back into place.

The woman with the makeup brush tilted my head toward her and the two kept
touching
me, crowding me, nudging me this way and that. I gritted my teeth, swallowing hard as familiar feelings uncoiled in my chest.

Anxiety. Fear. Panic.

But these were just humans, and I was a goddess. Getting worked up over this was about as ridiculous as running in fear from an ant wandering on my picnic blanket.

“Hey, Beth.” Elise held out her hands. “She’s brand new, remember?” Elise stood, checking herself out in the mirror.

“Right.” Beth drew in a deep breath. “Sorry, it gets kind of chaotic around here. What’s your name, doll?”

“Aphrodite,” I managed.

That raised some eyebrows, but the women continued working.

“I’m Beth.” The woman pointed the brush at herself, then at the woman on my other side. “Sarah. And that’s Elise.”

“They do amazing work,” Elise said with a smile. “But . . . maybe they can take a second to walk you through what they’re doing?” She gave the women a look, holding their gazes until they nodded. “Great.” She smiled. “It’s easy to forget how overwhelming it is to be new, but we’ve all been there. Now, Jane’s in ‘C, right?” She glanced at the makeup artist.

“Yeah,” Sarah replied.

“She’s very good.” Elise stood still as her assistant pulled off her robe and quickly wrapped the demigoddess into a thick, terry towel. “Very professional. But things are kind of chaotic this morning. So when you go out there, she’ll have a quick chat with you about what she expects. If you have any objections to being touched, or if there’s anything you’re not comfortable with, say so from the start. She’s very respectful.”

“Um, thanks?” I eyed the demigoddess in suspicion.

“You kind of looked terrified.” Elise shrugged in response to my unasked question. “You might want to work on that. Good luck.” She followed one of the assistants out of the room.

“Ready for wardrobe?” a woman with a clipboard demanded, pushing a rack of clothes into the tiny room.

Beth and Sarah did make the effort to talk me through a whirlwind of clothing changes until they deemed me styled and dressed to super-perfection. I wore a pair of jeans and a white camisole top with a plunging neckline. Clipboard-woman rattled off a series of instructions as she led me into the conference room, then nudged me toward Adonis while another set of random humans set to work checking the lighting.

I stumbled, and a shirtless Adonis, wearing very tight low-riding jeans, grabbed me, holding me steady. “Stand closer to me.” He slipped an arm around my waist.

“Touch or no touch?” the fashion editor demanded.

“What?” I blinked, trying to get my bearings. We stood in front of a white screen, all the light focused on us. Darkness swallowed the rest of the room. People wearing black shirts milled about on the periphery with an air of organized chaos as they chatted into earpieces.

The man groaned. “She really is new.”

“Touch is faster,” Adonis explained. “They put you in the poses they want, but some models aren’t comfortable with that, so they only get verbal instructions.”

“Uh . . .” I didn’t like the idea of being moved around like a puppet.

“It’s a lot faster, and we’re already behind schedule,” Adonis grumbled.

“Yeah, okay. Whatever.”

“All right, let’s get some test shots,” another woman wearing an earpiece called.

“Isn’t this for a clothing line?” I remembered seeing the brand’s stores at the mall covered in black and white photography and blasting loud music. “Shouldn’t we be wearing some?”

Adonis lifted me into the air and spun me around. “Laugh,” he instructed. When I complied, he added, “They find the more their models wear, the less they sell.” Adonis sat me down, and hooked his thumbs through my belt loops, pulling me closer to him. “The pay sucks, but the exposure’s great.”

“Clearly.” I stepped back, giving Adonis an appraising look. He and Poseidon could compete for the title of least-dressed.

Adonis burst out laughing. “Sorry, sorry,” he called to the photographer, before resuming his serious expression.

The photographer flashed him a smile before launching into another set of bewildering instructions like “Act natural,” and “Don’t smile. Pout!”

“Can we fix that in proofs?” one technician—I’d lost track of who did what by now—asked. “Or should we get makeup to . . .”

“She looks familiar.” I squinted into the darkness, ignoring the chatter around me as I tried to make out the photographer’s features.

Adonis touched my chin, drawing my gaze back to him before the photographer could pounce on my slip-up. When he was moved to a position that put his back to the camera, he solved the mystery for me. “That’s Jane. You probably saw me talking to her yesterday.”

My mind flashed back to the plain woman he’d been speaking with at orientation. “
Oh.
I’d wondered what she was doing there.” I smiled to myself, feeling foolish for not considering that everyone at orientation wouldn’t necessarily be a model “Makes total sense to have her
behind
the camera.”

Adonis struggled to maintain a “serious” expression as he pulled me to him. His hand skimmed my side as he lifted my camisole a tiny bit, as instructed. My breath caught. All I could think about were his lips burning away the rain and cold last night. The photographer’s voice pierced the buzzing in my ears, and I followed her instructions without thought, putting a hand to Adonis’s chest, and looking up at him. His heart pounded against my palm as he swallowed hard and tucked my hair behind my ear. His gentle fingers traced my jawline to my chin, lifting my face to his, kissing-close.

“Okay,” Jane called after a moment. “Let’s reset.”

People poured out of the woodwork, moving around us to adjust the equipment. As they rearranged white boards and tall stands with umbrellas attached to them, the ambiance in the room shifted. I’d never thought of light as something with texture before, but as the shadows in the room shifted from soft to hard, I wondered if anything was safe from the manipulations of gods and men.

“It makes sense for her to be behind the camera?” Adonis demanded as soon as it was safe to talk. “What do you mean by
that?”

I blinked, confused. “She’s plain, is all.”

“That woman,” he inclined his head in the photographer’s direction, “speaks three languages, gives half her paycheck to The Humane Society, and would skin someone alive if they messed with one of her models. She is
the
person I’d call if I ever needed to bury a body, and she’s so frickin’ smart, she could probably get away with it. And in one sentence, you’ve reduced her to nothing but her features.”

“What else am I supposed to go on? I’ve seen her in a crowd, twice. It’s not as if I knew her life story.” She hadn’t even introduced herself. “And for the record, I could literally compel a corpse to dig their own grave, shield the location, and charm whoever dared investigate you into thinking that they’re a bunny rabbit. If you need to bury a body, call me.”

“Oh my gods.” Adonis threw up his hands in frustration. “Could you
be
more conceited?”

“Okay, ready,” Jane called, cutting Adonis off as she strode over and situated Adonis and me in another half-embrace. I followed her instructions, putting a hand to Adonis’s chest, and looking up at him.

“Why is that a bad thing?” I whispered as Jane walked back to her camera. “I honestly don’t get how anyone manages to function in a society with such a complex and contradictory social code. You claim to value honesty, yet you thrive on lies. Calling a plain person plain is somehow an insult instead of a statement of fact, meanwhile—”

“That’s not—”

“—the only acceptable form of validation is from
other
people giving you compliments. But then, you have to deny them,” I said. That didn’t seem right. “I’m not from your social structure, remember? Those rules don’t apply to me. If you keep expecting me to act like I’m human, you’re going to be disappointed. I can’t lie. Not even in kindness.”

Adonis rolled his eyes, but refrained from commenting while Jane lined up the next few shots. When Jane asked me to twine my arms around his neck, he hissed in my ear, his breath stirring my hair, “You say that as if you’re
so
far above us. Like you’re beyond caring about looks at all, but I’ve never seen you walk past a reflective surface without checking yourself out. I
have
seen that self-satisfied look on your face when you realize you’re the first thing everyone notices in the room. Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it. I don’t know why you’re so hung up on impressing people you so obviously think are beneath you, but—”

He broke off when two women wielding powder brushes came over and dabbed at our foreheads.

“You
really
have a low opinion of me, don’t you?” I said once they’d moved away. Why did that keep surprising me? He’d flat-out told me he hated gods and implied I’d sleep with someone for power. His opinion of me
might
slip lower if I bathed in the blood of children every night, but it wouldn’t have very far to fall. “I look amazing. Owning that, being proud of that, is not some kind of flaw I need to overcome.”

“No,” he agreed. “But acting like you’re somehow superior—”

“I
am
superior.” How did he not get this?

“That doesn’t mean you have to act like it.”

Persephone kept saying the exact same thing and it drove me nuts. “But
why
?” I couldn’t keep the frustration out of my voice. “Why do you give people the power to define you like that? Why do I have to pretend to be less, just to make someone else more comfortable with—?”

Jane cleared her throat. “Looking a little tense, guys. Try to relax, please.”

I fumed in silence as one of her assistants rearranged us in an awkward position where I had one hand on my right hip and the other in Adonis’s left pocket. His pose echoed mine and I could feel the press of his fingers separated from my skin by only a thin bit of fabric. I forced a smile to my face that I didn’t feel, and the second I was posed with my face away from the camera, I resumed speaking. “You saw Zeus toward the end. Did you happen to notice you were the same height?”