The Deep End of the Sea (11 page)

Even though I know him well, I’m still skeptical. Friend or no, he is still a god. “Ever?”

He sighs, rocking back on his heels before his head lowers. My fingers itch to touch the beautiful golden hair spilling down so close to my lap. “I cannot tell you I have never cursed a person before,” he murmurs after long seconds of quiet breaths. “But I haven’t done so in a very long time, and I swear to you it will never happen again.”

He looks up at me, and I can see the sincerity and regret in his gaze.

My heart stutters, and a whole host of bewildering sensations rush through me so quickly that they nearly steal the air in my lungs. “You haven’t?”

He shakes his head slowly but surely, eyes never leaving mine.

I’m a fool for demanding an answer from a god, but I do it anyway. Too much hope crowds my mouth not to. “Why?”

He reaches up and twirls a piece of my hair, loose and free today with just a hint of wave, around his fingers. “You know why.”

The knot now gone, I can’t even describe the tingling sensation blooming in my stomach right now. It feels like ... butterflies, maybe. Like tiny wings beating against the tender muscles, anxious to fly free.

He lets go of my hair and positions himself behind the chair again, leaving me unsettled by the emotions raging about in my chest. It isn’t until we’ve turned a corner in the hallway that he finally speaks again. “How did you sleep?”

“Like the dead,” I tell him truthfully. I am glad for the change of subject, because my heart is beating too fast. “Also, for such a tiny thing, Mátia is a horrible bed hog. Even in a bed as big as the one I slept in last night.”

He laughs at this just as we stop at what can only be an elevator. I’ve read about them plenty of times. I’ve seen movies and shows with them, but this is the first time I’ve ever been in one, considering there were no elevators on the isle and they certainly weren’t around in Ancient Greece. So, I can’t help myself—I clap delightedly.

And rather than thinking me weird or annoying, Hermes just smiles when I demand to be the one to push the buttons.

Hades’ office is probably as big as my temple was: sprawling in size, with windows reaching at least two floors high, it reminds of me photographs I’ve seen of libraries and museums. Thousands of books line the walls, alongside artwork that spans time periods and cultures. And the statues in here are not painful to look at; they are beautiful, carved of marble until they are smooth and glowing.

I want to have Hermes push me around—better yet hold my arm so I can walk—and examine all these newly discovered treasures in detail, but as Persephone is pouring coffee at a table surrounded by a series of plush couches in the middle of the room, I figure I’ll have to wait until later.

“Good morning!” she calls out to me, her words ringing in the vast room. She’s wearing a modern dress today, something swoon worthy and elaborate and straight off a catwalk in Paris. “I know you’ve already had breakfast, but would you like some coffee?”

I decide to take Hermes at his word and trust that I can act like myself here in front of these deities without total fear of persecution. So I wave my friend away as I manage to get out of the chair all by myself so I can scoot onto the couch nearby. My knees tremble, but I love knowing that I did it on my own. “That’d be lovely, thank you.”

Hermes sits down next to me, preparing his coffee just the way I know he likes it—half a sugar cube and a splash of cream. Before Persephone hands me the cup she’s just poured, he says, “Drown it in cream, Aunt. Dusa likes it more tan than black. And then add as much sugar as you can until it is only a shade of what coffee once was.”

Damn him. He’s making me blush again. “I can do it myself,” I say, but she just grins.

“A girl after my own heart. If I have to drink coffee, this is the way to go.”

Hades steps out from one of the alcoves, several folders stuffed with loose papers in his hands alongside the iPad I saw him working on yesterday. “I cannot believe I married somebody who doesn’t worship coffee the way I do. What was I thinking?”

Persephone laughs heartily at this. “As I had to twist your arm into marrying me, I’m sure you were only thinking of how to get me to stop pestering you.”

I can feel my eyes widen over this. Is this true?

Next to me, Hermes stretches his long legs out. “I had a chat with Kore this morning.”

I sip my coffee quietly. He’d shut down our conversation in the hallway, but maybe now he’d be more forthcoming about why he’d gone crazy up there on her.

Persephone sighs. “You didn’t.”

Hermes merely looks at her over his cup. Hades chuckles as he sits down next to his wife on the couch across from us, tossing the folders and tablet haphazardly on the table.

“Why would you do that? I told you I’d taken care of it.”

Hermes continues to merely look at Persephone, his eyebrows raised meaningfully.

She lets out another exasperated sigh. “Medusa, promise me he didn’t send the poor girl running in the opposite direction, sobbing.” Persephone winks at me as she uncaps a bottle of water. “Because I’m positive she was the president of the Hermes is a Hottie fan club, and that would have destroyed her illusions about him.”

Fan
club? Hermes has a fan club?

Hades coughs, trying to hold back his laughter, which only makes Hermes glare at him. The Lord of the Underworld points to his coffee, saying, “Damn stuff went down the wrong pipe.”

“I did not make her cry, Aunt.”

But she looks at me for confirmation. “He—there were no tears.” It’s ridiculous, but I feel even more confused about what’s going on. I turn to my friend. “You have a fan club? Also—what is a ‘hottie’? Is this slang I’ve somehow missed?”

Both Persephone and Hades chortle loudly. “No,” Hermes says, and for the first time, I notice him blush, too, which is an incredibly appealing look on him. “They’re just—there’s no fan club.”

Persephone mock-whispers, “Yes. There is.” Then, more loudly, “And a ‘hottie’ is a handsome somebody girls like to swoon over.”

Well, I guess I have my confirmation that the ladies do, indeed, appreciate Hermes.

He glares at her next. “As I was saying, I had a chat with her. I made my position clear.”

The laughter fades from Persephone. “All right. Fine. But that’s the last time you get to harass the girl.” To me, she asks, “Were there any problems with Kore this morning?”

I’m quick with my response. “None at all. She was very agreeable.” Persephone continues to wait expectantly, so I add lamely, “Very helpful.” I set my cup down on the polished table in between us. “I don’t ... I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I also don’t want to inconvenience you. But there really isn’t a need for a servant. I mean ... I’ve lived without one for a long time, so ...”

“I know, darling,” Persephone says, refilling her husband’s coffee cup. “But you have just gone through a tremendous ordeal, and we thought it best if you had somebody to help, at least for the time being. Besides, surely you wouldn’t want to deprive Kore of a job? I’ve recently learned she’s planning on going back to school. Tuition can be a mighty burden.”

Being a monstrous shut-in, I’ve been out of the loop socially for the majority of my life, and my only real cues on tone and facial expressions come from movies and television shows, but I’m pretty sure she’s left no room for argument.

Hades only confirms this by saying, “You might as well just accept it. Peri is a tenacious little terrier when she has a mind to be.” He accepts the cup from his wife; his drink, unlike everyone else’s in the room, is as dark brown as his hair.

I can’t help but stare at him as he sips his coffee. Today, the Lord of the Underworld is wearing crisply tailored black trousers and a light blue button down, sleeves rolled up on his forearms. He looks sophisticated and powerful next to his stylish wife, and yet, I can’t help but be fascinated by just how easily he seems to play the role of doting yet amused husband.

“How delightful that I’m now a little doggie,” she says serenely. And then, over her bottle of water, “Woof.”

Both men chuckle; while I want to join in, and despite what I’ve been told, I simply can’t risk her taking offense.

“In any case, my husband is right, I’m afraid.” Persephone recaps her bottle. “I’m a tenacious gal. Right now, I want to focus all of that meddling on you, if you don’t mind.”

My throat suddenly feels dry. What have I gotten myself into? “Um ...”

She holds out a hand, ticking off fingers as she speaks. “You need an entirely new wardrobe. Well—I suppose from what my nephew tells me, there are still some former pieces you may want, but as those are still back in Greece, you’ll obviously need quite a bit of new items. Then there’s the matter of rehabilitation; you’re coming along wonderfully, darling, but it can’t hurt to have a specialist working with you on getting yourself back into shape. I’ve set up an appointment this afternoon. You’ll let us know if you feel Telesphorus is a good fit for you or not.”

Hermes leans forward. “Telesphorus? He’s an arse.”

“He’s also excellent at what he does,” Persephone counters in that same business-like tone she’s already used on us this morning. “You wanted the best, I got the best.”

He leans back against the cushions, saying nothing further as her attention shifts back to me.

“When you feel ready, you will let us know what you want done with your items back in Greece. From what I understand, you have a few options.” She picks up a notepad sitting on the table, along with a pen. “You can leave your belongings there; obviously, the isle is protected, so the chance of thievery is rare. Or, you can have them brought here and we will store them in the basement. This would allow you to bring items you like up to your rooms to help it feel more homey.”

“Their basement, which eventually leads to the Underworld, has three levels,” Hermes whispers to me, grinning. “If you think the house is a labyrinth, wait to you see what the basement is like.”

Persephone stares at me for a long moment, and it isn’t until Hermes nudges me with his elbow do I realize she’s waiting for an answer. I wonder if she can find me an etiquette coach, too, because apparently, I’m horrible at reading social cues. “Would it be too much trouble to have my things brought here?”

“No problem whatsoever. I can have movers there this afternoon.” She scratches something down on the pad. “We need to get you a new phone—”

“I have a phone,” I quickly say.

She looks up from writing. “Yes, but you do not have one that Hephaestus has fitted especially for Olympians. Don’t worry, he can transfer all your data over for you. I’ll have him get you a new laptop, too.”

I sort of don’t know what to say to this whirlwind of a goddess.

“I don’t know how much Hermes had told you about Olympus before, but we are a large city that has plenty of wonderful sights and places to explore and discover. Our population hovers at anytime around fifteen thousand, and we have some amazing restaurants and shops to fall in love with. I believe you’ll like it here very much. That said,” she taps her pen against the paper, looking first at Hades and then Hermes before her pale eyes refocus on me, “I ...
we
... think it best you make sure you always have an escort with you while out and about.”

Hades scratches at the back of his neck. Hermes is as still as a statue. And Persephone ... she’s looking at me with what appears to be concern.

I swallow. “Escort?”

Persephone looks at her husband again. He sighs and says in a surprisingly kind tone, “Medusa, based on your history, an escort is the most prudent course of action when ensuring your well-being, at least for the time being. If and when you choose to leave the villa, Kore and one of our personal guards will accompany you at all times.”

So. I have gone from being a solitary creature to one who will never be alone—and that is not a thought I am confortable with. “May I ask why?”

Hades is blunt. “My brother has apparently been obsessed with you for some time, and my niece is nothing if not vindictive.”

Prickles spread across the back of my neck.
Poseidon?
“But ...” I swallow, glancing over at Hermes. His face is expressionless, yet I can see fists curled under his arms as they cross his chest. “Surely I have nothing to fear from either of them. Po—” I cannot say his name, though. “He ... it’s been thousands of years. I am nothing to him.”

Persephone looks down at her list. Hermes stands up suddenly and heads over to one of the wide windows. “Yes, well,” Hades murmurs, “it may seem like that to you, perhaps, but ...”

I can feel my eyes widen significantly. What is he insinuating?

“Not now,” Hermes snaps, his back still to us. “She has enough to focus on without having to worry about that sick fuck.”

As I’ve rarely ever heard my friend curse, I’m shocked into silence. Hades’ eyebrows shoot up and then back down into a vee. Then, to me, he says, “In any case, most of us have escorts ourselves. Persephone’s handmaiden always accompanies her out. Standard procedure and all.”

The truth is, I’m not comfortable with what they’re suggesting, not when independence, even if brought about under the falsest illusions, is so firmly engrained in my character. Yet, Hermes appears more stressed than I’ve ever seen him before. Persephone’s face is creased with worry. And Hades ... The Lord of the Underworld appears as if my agreement to these terms will come one way or another, whether I like it or not. So I bite back the burgeoning frustration steadily growing in my throat and chest and give them a nod.