Deep Water (5 page)

When the priestess was done with her
cleaning duties, she picked up the amphora and skirted the altar, going to a
carved doorway directly behind it. There she paused, bowing her head. “My lady,
I have your wine,” she said.

“Enter.”

She did, pushing through some sort of
invisible barrier into a large, beautifully appointed room. At the far end were
two luxurious reclining couches covered with swathes of cloth dyed a rich
purple. One couch held a slender woman in a brilliant white gown. Her shoulder
pins were of gold, fashioned in the shape of owls, and her pale hair had been
piled on her head in a mound of ringlets bound by multiple wraps of a golden
ribbon. Her oval face held the grace of a goddess, grey eyes blazing with
intelligence and good humor.

The true meaning of awestruck came to
Griffin as a wave of wonder and the deepest respect washed over him, making him
want to kneel in worship. This had to be Pallas Athena, the goddess of wisdom,
the patroness of Athens and one of the three virgin goddesses of Olympus.

But Athena didn’t really exist, nor did
the rest of the pantheon of Greek gods.
I
have no idea what my subconscious is playing at, but this is fascinating.

His hostess gracefully dropped to her
knees, bowing her head. “My lady,” she said reverently.

The goddess looked over at them. “My dear
girl,” she said warmly. “Come and pour us wine.”

His hostess tucked her toes under and rose
like a geisha, padding to the couches. A low, inlaid table held two intricately
chased golden cups. Concentrating, the priestess decanted wine into each cup,
letting the last drop fall cleanly with a slight twist.

Only then did she glance up at her
goddess’s guest, and almost dropped the amphora. The other couch was occupied
by a stunning brunette, exactly the kind of woman Griffin had always preferred.
A gown of teal blue covered her lush curves, and her face held the otherworldly
beauty of a nymph. Dark hair the color of fertile earth tumbled down in gentle
curls, held back by a single blue ribbon.

The brunette’s hand shot out, steadying
the amphora in his hostess’s hands. “Are you…” She trailed off, staring at the
handmaiden.

Griffin could feel the burst of emotions
surging through his hostess from that simple touch. Shock, and then a sudden,
fierce desire that made the flesh between his legs ache. The brunette’s large
eyes, the color of an autumn sea storm, widened in surprise at him.

“Is there something wrong?” Athena asked
her guest. “Amphitrite?”

Griffin felt a little lurch of surprise.
Amphitrite was one of the Nereids, as well as the wife of the sea god Poseidon.
Jesus God, she’s gorgeous.
He felt a
warm wetness between his thighs and realized his hostess was getting aroused.
Yeah, but which one of us is getting turned
on?

It didn’t seem to matter, since he had no
control over the scene. With an effort the Nereid tore her gaze from his
hostess. “Forgive me, Athena,” Amphitrite said, her voice low and musical. “I
was struck by the beauty of your handmaiden.”

Athena raised a grey-blonde eyebrow at
that, but smiled at his hostess anyway. “Yes, she is a lovely girl, isn’t she?
And one of my most valued priestesses.” She nodded. “You may go, Medusa.”

Griffin’s earlier shock returned, tripled
this time.
Medusa? I’m dreaming about
being
Medusa
?

But his hostess simply nodded and left. As
she neared the doorway she passed a polished sheet of silver hung on the wall
and Griffin got a brief look at the person he was inhabiting. Amphitrite was
right—Medusa was gorgeous, with large brown eyes, creamy skin now flushed high
on her cheekbones with spots of pink, and a tiny rosebud mouth. Her light brown
hair was pulled back simply and held with white ribbon. Mentally he replaced
those locks with writhing snakes and shuddered at the thought. But right now
the handmaiden looked nothing like the classic image of the Gorgon she would
become.

Heading back to the residence’s courtyard,
Griffin watched as Medusa sat and poured herself a cup of wine. He could sense
the handmaiden trying to understand the unexpectedly powerful attraction
generated by Amphitrite, and failing. Her nipples still tingled, and the warm
ache between her legs began to throb.

To their combined shock Amphitrite picked
that moment to appear at the courtyard entrance. “May I join you, my dear?” she
asked quietly.

Medusa shot to her feet, flustered. “My
lady,” she said, and Griffin heard the quaver in her voice as she gestured to the
courtyard’s table and stool. “It would be an honor.”

Amphitrite came over to the table,
frowning at the single stool. “But where will you sit?”

“I’ll stand, my lady.”

“No, that’s not right. We should be at
ease for this.” Looking around the courtyard, Amphitrite spotted the olive
tree. “Come, sit with me here.”

Hesitantly, Medusa obeyed, seating herself
next to the Nereid beneath the tree’s spreading branches. Griffin could feel
her desire rising, along with her confusion.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
Amphitrite asked.

Meekly, Medusa nodded. “I’m not used to
having guests, my lady.”

The Nereid smiled at that, and Griffin
felt Medusa’s pleasure at the expression. “Please, call me Amphitrite. And you
have my apologies. The last thing I want to do is make you feel uncomfortable.”
She leaned back gracefully on one arm, giving Medusa a thoughtful look. “The
thing is, we need to talk about what happened when we saw each other.”

Medusa’s eyes widened. “I’m not sure what
you mean, my—Amphitrite.”

The Nereid chuckled. “Well, perhaps it
would help if I described how I felt when I saw you. It was as if I’d been
struck by the kindest and most pleasant of lightning bolts. My heart leapt in
my chest, and I was suddenly filled with joy and desire.”

Griffin felt Medusa’s heart speed up at
Amphitrite’s words, and her cheeks warmed. “I felt that as well. But I didn’t
understand it,” she said shyly. “Is it the work of Eros? It can’t be—you’re a
goddess and I’m just a handmaiden.”

“You’re hardly just a handmaiden,”
Amphitrite said in gentle reproof. “Athena herself said that you’re her trusted
right hand when it comes to the running of her temple.”

Medusa bowed her head, gratified by the
praise. “It is an honor to serve the goddess,” she murmured. “And my life’s
deepest pleasure.”

“She knows this, my dear, and appreciates
you for it. But I must now speak of what is happening between us.” The Nereid
took a deep breath, and Griffin appreciated the way it made the ivory mounds
peeking over the top of her gown rise. “I believe you are my
agapetos
, Medusa.”

The handmaiden listened as Amphitrite
explained the concept of destined mates. “Poseidon and I knew we were meant to
be together the first time we touched,” Amphitrite continued, smiling at the
memory. “And we have been very happy together. He is my heart, and I’m his. But
we always knew there was someone missing in our love. The moment I touched your
hand, I knew you were that missing link.”

“I almost dropped the amphora,” Medusa
confessed. “It was just as you’d said. I felt like I’d been struck by a bolt of
lightning.”

“Exactly,” Amphitrite said. “It’s how
agapetos
recognize one another.”

His hostess swallowed, suddenly nervous.
“But my lady, do you mean that I’m to be Lord Poseidon’s
agapetos
as well?” she asked. “I’ve never met him in person. And my
goddess … well, you know of her issues with Lord Poseidon.”

“Quite.” Amphitrite’s lips twisted in
thought. “That will require some delicate handling, I suspect. Not to mention
that Athena requires all of her handmaidens to be virgins.”

“Yes, there’s that as well.” Medusa’s
hands dropped to her lap, twisting nervously. “I was consecrated to my
goddess’s service as a child. I’ve never … I mean, I’ve seen men, of course,
but I’ve never spent much time with them.”

Amphitrite eyed her thoughtfully. “Nor
have you wanted to, I suspect.”

Griffin felt the little thrill of relief
that went through Medusa at the Nereid’s words. “Not really, no. I’ve been
quite happy serving my Lady Athena. If being your
agapetos
means that I must also serve Lord Poseidon…” She bit her
lip. “I don’t mean to offend you, my lady, but I don’t know if I can do it.”

Amphitrite’s hand covered hers. “I suspect
you’ll change your mind once you meet him, but that doesn’t have to happen
until you feel you’re ready for it,” she said reassuringly.

Medusa relaxed. “Oh. Good.” She blushed. “I
mean, if it’s as you say and he’s also my
agapetos,
then I know I should meet him at some point. Just … not yet?”

“I understand.” The smile the Nereid gave
her was warm and sweet. “In the meantime, however, I would very much like to
get to know you better, if you would be comfortable with that.”

Griffin felt another thrill of desire
throb between the handmaiden’s legs. “Very much so,” she breathed.

The thrill changed, then, turning into a
nagging ache. With a flicker of annoyance, Griffin realized his bladder was
full.

And then he was awake, staring at the
shadowed ceiling of his bedroom. With an effort he sat up, pressing the palm of
his hand against his right brow and the ever-present ache that had bloomed into
beating life behind it.

He grimaced. Given a choice, he’d rather
be back in Greece with Medusa and the gorgeous Amphitrite.
Of course, Poseidon would kill me, but Christ, it would have been worth
it.

Wincing, he got to his feet and headed to
the bathroom.

****

Poseidon didn’t spend much time in his
home, only long enough to bathe and change into a clean linen chiton. His
palace
daimons
hurried to pin the long white tunic at his shoulders, draping a himation, or
cloak, across his left shoulder and lacing up his sandals.

Once dressed, he reached out and summoned
his trident. The long, beautifully crafted golden weapon materialized, coming
to his hand like a trusted pet. He hefted it, finding the balance point. It had
been made for him by the Cyclopes as a gift for helping to overthrow Cronus and
the rest of the Titans, and he could use it to soothe an angry sea or set the
land to trembling.

A pity it doesn’t
frighten the Fates.

Setting his expression to its sternest, he
left the palace and set out on the white marble road that wound through Mount
Olympus. He could have summoned more
daimons
to carry him, or the beautifully gilded chariot
waiting in the stables on his pleasure, but he wanted time to think before he
broached the Fates’ stronghold.

The home of the Gods was only tenuously
related to the mountain in Greece that bore the same name. The divine Mount
Olympus existed in a space between worlds, where it could maintain connections
to the other pantheons of Earth as well as the planet itself. Olympus’s
physical reality was a lushly verdant mountaintop spiked with dark green
poplars and waving cypresses. Its road ran in a gently graded spiral around the
mountaintop, terminating at Zeus’s mighty residence and the Hall of the
Olympian Gods on Olympus’s peak. The road’s lower end began at a curious dark
structure that was Hephaestus’s home and forge. Each of the Twelve Olympians
maintained an official residence on the road, although
Hades’s
home was primarily ceremonial due to his need to remain in the Underworld, and
side roads ran to smaller mansions belonging to various minor gods and
demigods.

Poseidon had chosen to set off down the
mountain before dawn in the hopes of avoiding the rest of his family. He’d
successfully made it past most of the palaces just as the first rays of the sun
crested the edge of Olympus. All he needed now was to pass Hermes’s sleekly
aerodynamic home and the now-quiet forge before taking the trail to the
pavilion of the Fates on the mount’s eastern side—

“Uncle,” a surprised voice said. “Fancy
meeting you here.”

Poseidon cursed under his breath, then
gave a grudging nod to the sleepy being who had appeared next to the road.
“Hermes. A little early for you, isn’t it?”

“Late, actually,” the God of Messengers
said through a yawn. Despite being thousands of years old, he appeared to be a
tall, lean young man with curly dark hair and large greenish-brown eyes.
“Hephaestus and I are still working on getting a Wi-Fi connection running up
here. I can get the signal through the cable right up until that damned
trans-world barrier, and then it goes all to Tartarus.”

The last thing Poseidon needed was to hear
Hermes nattering away again on telecommunications issues. “You have my
sympathies,” he said brusquely. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“It’s a little early for you, though,”
Hermes said though another yawn. “And on foot as well. That’s unusual for you,
Uncle. I thought you went everywhere in your chariot.”

Poseidon drew himself up, planting his
trident on the creamy marble of the road. “If I choose to walk this morning,
Messenger, it is my business and none of yours,” he said stiffly.