Desperate Housewives of Olympus (21 page)

The deep, even movement of his chest signified he still slept and Demeter was content to lie in his arms and drift endlessly through the canals. She wanted to thank Venice for this morning and she called the Honeysuckle to burst into bloom over bridges and tangle itself over fountains and statuary.

It felt so good; Demeter wanted to cover the whole world in flowers. She resisted the urge, though. It wasn’t fair to them to call them forth in the deep set of winter in the frozen north, or in the desert where they would thirst and suffer.

A frantic plea interrupted her utopia and Demeter bolted from her repose to see who had called her name. Eros stirred and with a sleepy endearment, pulled her back against him. She didn’t see the owner of the voice so she settled back against her lover.

His warmth was like a blanket and she sighed again. Demeter was happy. Until she heard the damn voice again. She bolted up with such force the gondola teetered precariously. She still didn’t see anyone who could be talking to her.

She seriously considered this experience with Eros, all of it, was simply a figment of her tormented imagination. She’d wanted to be done with misery for so long now, perhaps her mind had made it happen and she was a couple pomegranates short of a bushel.

It would be unfortunate if that were the case, but if it was, Demeter didn’t want to know. She liked this new existence she’d made for herself—granted it had to end, but not yet.

“Demeter, what’s wrong?” Eros asked, alerted by her distress.

“I keep hearing someone calling my name, but I don’t see anyone.” She studied their surroundings again.

“It’s prayers.”

“No one prays to the old gods anymore, Eros. I’m not like Love, people don’t invoke me or even wish for me like they do love. I haven’t heard a prayer since 1852 when Lord Helmsely Hunsaker had a likeness of me erected in his garden and his Greek maid left honey and milk to ensure a bountiful harvest of mandrake so she could rid herself of his bastard.”

“And did you grant her prayer?”

“Certainly. I gave her some Belladonna as well to keep him out of her thighs permanently.”

“He loved her, you know,” Eros informed her with a brush of his lips on her cheek.

“I doubt that. If he loved her, he would have married her instead of whelping a bastard on her.”

“We all love in different ways.”

“Did she love him? She never prayed to me again and I quite forgot to look in on her.” Demeter found herself wondering what happened to the girl who had pleaded so earnestly for deliverance.

“No, she didn’t. There was a boy in Greece she’d loved as a girl.”

Demeter was quiet for a moment. “Did she have an unhappy life?”

“Yes.”

“What was the point of it then?”

“Only Fate can answer that, Demeter.”

“What about the voices in my head? Can she answer those?”

“Those are strictly within your purview, but it wouldn’t surprise me if Fate already knew what you were going to do.”

“I don’t even want to think about the implications of that. I am a goddess. I’m supposed to have free will.” Demeter knew she sounded a bit petulant, but couldn’t help herself. It was the vocal equivalent of stomping her foot.

“Just because she knows the choice you’re going to make and has planned accordingly doesn’t mean it’s any less your choice.”

“It’s too early to be philosophical, Eros,” she grumped.

“You were happy when you woke up. What happened?”

“Besides the voice in my head? Nothing. It disturbed me. I wondered if I was losing it and if I was losing it, if all of this with you was nothing more than a mad dream.”

“No. I’m yours always, Demeter.”

“A figment of my imagination would say that,” she teased.

“How may I prove to you this is real?” Eros asked with sincerity.

“You can’t. But you can tell me how to answer this prayer. It’s been so long, I don’t remember.”

“Concentrate on the voice and will yourself to see its owner and his need. You know mortals often pray for what they think they want, not what it is they need. Sometimes, it’s crueler to answer a prayer than ignore it.”

Demeter did as he instructed and concentrated all of her energy on finding the owner of that voice. It was a farmer in the United States, Missouri. She didn’t want to give up her gondola, but her selfishness was keeping her from seeing what she wanted to see. So she let go.

She was soaring through the space and time, through the real and the layers beneath. It was not a farmer at all, but a small child sitting in the middle of a desolate corn field. There were a few shoots pushing up through the dry, cracked soil and she could feel the pain of the plants as they starved. It was probably not unlike what the young boy was feeling.

He was too thin, ragged. His overalls hung loose on his tiny frame and she could feel his hunger as well. He had a social studies textbook open to a section on Greek Mythology.

“Can you hear me, Demeter? I don’t know if you’re real, but I hope you are. We need a little help this season. I’m not asking so we have more than our neighbors or so I can have a Wii after harvest. I’d like to eat and be able to feed our animals.”

When he looked up with solemn brown eyes, it was like he saw her and knew what he was looking at.

Eros was suddenly beside her in the ether. “He has the heart of a man grown, Demeter. Full of love for the land and sacrifice for his family. Will you answer his prayer?”

The unfairness of it hit her like tidal wave. Earlier this morning, she’d been bringing life and bounty to those already blessed and this boy who loved the land like a child of spring could do nothing to help himself but pray to a goddess he wasn’t sure he believed in.

She materialized before she had a chance to think better of it. Upon further reflection, it would have been as easy to bless his crops go on about her day, but it had been so long since anyone had prayed to her, she couldn’t help herself.

When she became solid, the look on his face told her she’d probably scared the sense right out of him. His eyes grew wide and for a moment, she thought he’d scream. Or cry. But he did none of those things.

“Are you Demeter?” he asked carefully, as if she was a snake and he was unsure if she was poisonous or not.

“I am. You prayed to me, so I came.”

“Where were you last year?”

That wasn’t even in the same ballpark with what she’d expected from him and back in the old days, had a mortal spoken to her or any of the gods in such a way, they would have been smited. Or would that be smitten? No, smitten was something all together different. But all hell would have broken loose, to put it in more modern terms.

“I don’t have a good answer for you.” And she didn’t. There was nothing she could say that could make up for the fact she’d let her power go fallow like an abandoned field.

“No one ever does.” He sighed as the weight of the world pressed down on him.

“What are we going to do about this field?” Demeter asked gently.

“I don’t know. I was hoping you had an answer.”

“I think I might.”

“So, what do you want in return? A cow? We’ve only got one, but you can have it.”

“No, I’ve got something different in mind. How about if I give
you
my blessing? Not your field, or the land, but you.”

“Why would you do that?” he eyed her.

“Didn’t you ask for my help?” she reminded him.

“I did, but in all of the stories with those great gifts come pain and sacrifice.”

“Such big words for such a little boy.” Demeter was amazed to feel her heart warm toward this mortal child.

“I’m in the gifted program.”

She nodded. “Well, do you want my help?”

“Nothing too extravagant. Like I said, I don’t want to be greedy.”

“No, your request isn’t greedy. That’s why I want to give you my blessing. I don’t think you’ll abuse it.”

“Terms?”

“If you insist.” She smiled. “For every bountiful harvest after this one, you must donate a percentage to a food bank. And no nasty herbicides or pesticides, no genetically modified seeds. All organic crops.”

“What percentage?” he asked, not balking at any of her requests.

“I’ll leave that up to you.” She tried not to smile again, he was so serious.

“You’re awfully trusting.”

“I can freeze the world with eternal winter. I can afford to be.”

He nodded as if he understood exactly where she was coming from. “Okay, I think I’m ready.”

“Come, embrace me.” She knelt down to where he was.

He approached her tentatively, as if he still thought she would bite. When he reached her, she kissed the top of his head in a benediction and the rows of corn shot up around them.

“My blessing to you, little seedling. May you grow as your crops, strong and tall. Always keep me in your heart and I’ll keep you in mine. Love the green and growing things well and they will love you in return.”

She made herself invisible before he could thank her and Demeter felt a strange sense of peace. Almost as if she’d moved by a power greater than herself, yet… She went to visit their one cow before she could think about the further implications of greater powers. That always made her uncomfortable.

Demeter fed the cow from her own hand and watched its lines fill in with muscle and health. She rubbed its belly twice and called forth twin beams of light that became the spark of life inside and she disappeared back into the ether.

“Have you never done these things, Demeter?” Eros asked her.

“I don’t think so. If I ever did, I don’t remember.”

“Didn’t your mother teach you these things?” He sounded incredulous.

“No. Never.”

“You have to teach Persephone before it’s her time.”

“I don’t know what to teach her,” Demeter said helplessly.

“You’ll figure it out, you’re a smart goddess. Now, do you have any more prayers on the docket, or are you mine again?”

“I’m always yours,” she replied before she could think about what it meant.

“Do you mean that?”

“Eros, look and see.” Demeter bared herself to him, determined there would be no more shadows inside of her for him to fight. He could look with his power and see.

“I don’t want to.”

She felt that like a knife that pierced her heart and her soul. It was a physical pain.

“No, not because I don’t want to see what’s inside you, Demeter. Because I don’t want to have to look. Does that make sense?”

“Not really.”

He made them corporeal and they were on the Riviera. It wasn’t the moon, but it would do. Eros was ever thoughtful and had manifested a double lounger.

“Let me explain. To simplify, I don’t want to bring my work home. If you feel something for me, I shouldn’t have to dig for it. You should tell me because you feel it and you want me to know you feel it. I may be the God of Love, but I’m still male. And you are my goddess. Poking around in your soul is like digging through your purse for a tampon.”

“Did you just compare my feelings for you to a tampon?”

“They’re both used to cork—,” he began, but broke off when she hit him.

“Proof all men are the same. It was poetry and sweet words that melted my soul and now that you’ve had me, you’re wisecracking about tampons. What’s next? Burping with your hand down your toga while you wait for me to make you dinner?”

“Sweet Demeter, if it’s poetry you wish, it’s poetry you shall have.” But instead of reciting words of verses composed by other hearts and other hands, it was his lips on hers.

And it was poetry like no other, the sensation he wrought in her, the bliss that felt like home.

HERA

“Hera and Hades, sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” the gargoyle sang loudly.

“Shut the fuck up, you little troll.” Hera wasn’t about to take any lip off of this creature.

“Not a troll. Gargoyle. Stupid goddess.”

Hera gave it a sly look and then kicked it on her way by. Hard. Too hard for her poor

little toes. She howled and it laughed with malicious glee. “Oh yeah?” She hauled it up over her the shoulder and the stone creature yelped.

“What are you doing?”

“Yeah, Hera. What
are
you doing?” Hades asked as he entered the room.

“Throwing this smart-mouthed piece of furniture out the window.”

“And what has Peri done to merit such action, may I ask?”

“It has a name? Well, Peri the Penis is mocking me.”

“I see. Would you like me to toss it out the window for you? He looks heavy.”

“Nooo,” it yowled.

“No, indeed. He needs to learn to respect me and he won’t do it if I don’t handle this myself.”

Hades nodded along as if weighing the merits of her argument. “Open the window before you throw him out of it. Getting stained glass down here is a bitch.”

Hera held him high above her head and she wanted to let go. She tried to force her arms to fling him forward and send him hurtling out into the fiery lake beneath the balcony, but she couldn’t do it. She wanted to, oh how she wanted to, but he was a living creature.

She placed him down on the floor next to the balcony door. “I’m not going to do it this time because I think melting would hurt. A lot. So, you get a reprieve. Sing that damn song just once more though and I’ll chuck you out into that lava so fast the knobs on your head will spin. Got me?”

“Yes, Hera.” He made a sullen face. “I was just playing. And you called me a penis.”

“I did and I’ll call you worse if you don’t behave.”

He grumbled and pouted, then went quiet. It didn’t even giver her a nasty look before he closed his eyes and hardened into unreadable stone.

“Look at that. Before you know it, you’ll be propping your feet on him while you read those Lusha Lovelace books.”

“How do you know what I’m reading?”

“I know more than you’d think, Hera,” he promised.

“Is that another innuendo, because I can’t take it, Hades. Not again. I can’t even walk.”