The Deep End of the Sea (6 page)

I do not allow myself to consider just how horribly awry all this could go.

Hermes comes to see me two days before the Assembly is to meet. As he kneels to slip Mátia’s new nametag on his collar (which amuses me greatly, as nobody would ever be able to find his home if he got lost), I tell him, “If we are going through with this madness—”

He glances up at me. “Of course we are.”

“—then I have a few requests.”

Mátia scrabbles away, his bell jingling merrily against the new tag. Hermes stands up, smacking his hands together to loosen the white fur so freshly deposited on him. I can’t help but delight in watching this god treat my kitten like he were his own. “Let’s hear them.”

I rub the back of my neck; all this cleaning has left me sore. “I am concerned about what will happen to Mátia if things do not go my way.”

“Things will not—”

I hold a hand up. “I would prefer you to take care of him, but I realize you have quite a busy life. So, if you are unable to do so, will you assure me that you’ll find a proper home with people who will spoil him outrageously?”

Hermes’ eyes—greenish-blue today—track over to where Mátia is, now climbing into his bed for what must be his fourth nap of the early day. “You have my word that he will live the very best of lives.”

Relief swamps me. He’s only been in my life a short time, but that little kitten and his welfare have become crucial to me. “As we discussed before, Mikkos isn’t in the best of health.” I bite my lower lip, hating that I even need to broach this subject. “I did not inform him of what is happening this week. He texted me yesterday that he is heading to Corinth for the next month or so with some friends. If—” I stop, as the words are too difficult to get out.

So Hermes gently finishes what I started. “I will do as I’ve done for years; I will continue to watch over Mikkos and assure he is well taken care of.”

My eyes widen behind my glasses. “You have?”

“Of course I have. He is your friend, and I will be forever grateful for all he has done for you.”

I’m not sure how to even process that, even as something tightens and swells all at the same time in my chest. So I busy myself with straightening a pile of books on a nearby table. “I’ve left him a recording, just in case. It’s in my room, next to Niki.”

His smile is tempered. “Duly noted.”

I take a deep breath. “That brings me to my last request. Gorgóna is home to more than just Mátia and me. I would ask you to ensure the isle’s inhabitants will be taken care of, as well.”

Most people, I think, would roll their eyes at such a request. But not Hermes. His response is just as steady as the god I know him to be. “Of course.” He takes a step closer to me. “I know you are worried, Dusa, but I promised you before—I will fix this.”

He cannot make such a promise, not when it comes to the whims of his father and the rest of the Assembly.

“Now, as for Mátia, I’d already planned on us taking him to Olympus with us. The stars above know what trouble the little dude can get into while we’re gone. He’ll stay with a favorite aunt until we’re done with the Assembly. Is this all right with you?”

It is more than all right.

His sunny smile reemerges; if I’d been wearing pants, he’d be charming me right out of them with just such a sight. “I would have assumed you’d already have the place fully packed up. Did I not send enough boxes?”

I’d woken up to a stack of boxes, bubble wrap, and tape in the entryway at the beginning of the week with a note urging me to pack up, but the more I considered doing so, the less certain I became of its necessity. Chances are, I will be back right here in a week, having to unpack all of these boxes anyway.

I move past him to readjust the direction a nearby urn faces. “I am sure you did. Also, thank whoever it is you sent this time for not coming past the entryway. I appreciate it.” Most of the people Hermes sends with my items remain unseen to me under cloak of darkness and sleep. As curious as I’ve been to their identities, I’ve never built up enough courage to meet them face-to-face.

He stops me—another hand on my arm, and I am paralyzed by this. It’s the second time now he’s touched me, and I long to melt in the sensations of his warm skin against mine. He acts as if he’s not disgusted by this act, although I figure he must be. The skin on my arms, a mixture of both human and reptilian textures, disgusts even me, and I have to live with it. “Dusa, please be assured I am prepared to go as far as needed to ensure that justice is yours. I’ve already discussed your case in depth with a number of the Assembly members who have agreed to side with me—not as a favor,” he adds, no doubt seeing disbelief crease my forehead, “but because they, too, believe it to be the right course of action. My sister and uncle are not nearly as popular within the Assembly as you might assume.”

I stare down at his hand, so strong and beautiful and smooth against my slightly scaled and hideous skin. My heart races until I’m dizzy. He’s not even shuddering. His hand is still there.

“If your inclination is to leave everything behind, then that is your right; I will support you in this. But I know many things are of great sentimental value to you, collected over the ages. If you wish to take them with you, I will happily ensure they safely reach you, wherever you choose to live.”

A knot forms in my throat, forcing me to cough a few times to clear it. “And ... Gorgóna?”

He still hasn’t removed his hand from my arm—in fact, his thumb is now tenderly moving back and forth, leaving me even more light-headed. No wonder people in books and movies crave this; the mere gentle act of skin on skin nourishes the soul like no words or thoughts ever could. “I will leave that decision up to you. It can stay here, hidden—a retreat, if you ever do wish to come back, or it’ll never to grace the earth again.”

Part of me wants nothing better than to see this bloody isle as scorched earth, but another knows this is home. It’s been both my haven and prison.

“I’m not ready to make that decision yet,” I whisper.

“You do not need to.” He steps closer still, and I can smell the detergent used for his clothes, lingering traces of soap on his skin, and a hint of plain old Hermes. It is my favorite smell in the entire world, more so than any of the flowers I’ve ever grown. “Would you like help packing?”

I know his eyes can’t meet mine, not like I can with his, but, as always, I get the feeling like his pierce right through the dark plastic, straight into me as I stare up at him. “You seem so confident.”

The smile gracing his lips grows until it nearly blinds me. “Is that a yes?”

It is hard to wade into the unknown, but I do so for my friend. “Since when do the gods do such mundane things as pack up a monster’s temple?”

He finally lets go of me, so he can stride over to where I’d left the boxes. I try to ignore just how bereft this loss of skin against skin makes me feel. “Since right now.” And then, over his shoulder, “Don’t you dare call yourself that again.”

I don’t know how it happens, but between the two of us, the temple gets packed up in a matter of five hours. While there are things I’m more than happy to leave behind, I decide to box them up to donate to shelters in Athens. Who knows? Maybe somebody unpacking them will realize their value and make a tidy profit for their organization after auctioning them off. At least, this is what I hope will happen. I offer to make Hermes my special spaghetti, which I know him to love, but he informs me he’s late to a previously scheduled appointment. I tap down the disappointment toward his leaving, making sure he sees nothing but my gratitude over a job well done. But when we reach the entrance to the temple, I do the unthinkable: I reach out and touch him for the first time ever. Just a few fingers against his shoulder, but suddenly I’ve just stepped off a cliff and am soaring through the air, into the unknown after drowning in the deep sea for so long.

“You are the best kind of friend,” I tell him.

He doesn’t say anything, just studies me with those chameleon eyes of his. They’re green right now, a beautiful light green that I lose myself in. Before I know it, he leans down and kisses my cheek. It isn’t a quick one like before, when his lips pressed quickly against my temple. No, this one lingers for a several heartbeats, rendering me dizzy and elated all at the same time. “Sweet dreams, Dusa,” he murmurs. “I’ll be back for you and Mátia early Saturday morning. Dress warm—we’ll be flying to Olympus, and the air can be chilly up high.”

He’s gone in a rush of wind that sends the gauzy tunic I’m wearing fluttering around me. Angrier than normal waves crash against my shores, sending sharp sprays of water inland, but I don’t care that I’ve possibly infuriated the bastard trapping me out here once more.

Because, for the first time in a long time, hope floods throughout my soul.

“Are you ready?” Hermes holds his hand out for mine to take. He says we’ll fly to Olympus, but from how he’s described it to me in the past, I know we’ll be travelling there through a portal he opens in the air above us.

My fingers tighten around the handle to Mátia’s carrier. I’d lain awake all night, pondering just this question. Am I ready? I’ve had over two thousand years to be ready. Yet, here I am, about to head to Olympus and face my fate, and I still don’t know if I can offer an honest response to that question. I’m numb and excited and scared and hopeful all at the same time.

No matter what, though, I trust him. He has yet to lead me astray.

So, I put my hand in his and let him take me away from here, from all that I’ve known for the majority of my life, praying there will be time soon enough for answers.

I think my heart is going to burst right out of my chest and onto the exquisite tile floor below me.

I am in the waiting room outside of the Great Assembly Hall, and the receptionist sitting at a behemoth of a desk is studying me with what I can best describe as trepidation. I get it. I really do. But I’ve done my best; I’m wearing my wrap-around sunglasses and the Girls are firmly ensconced in their favorite silk scarf, one Hermes brought us back from Paris in the 1950s. We had a talk this morning about them being on their best behavior, and even though they’re snakes, I have confidence in that they understand the importance of helping me out. I have two extra pairs of sunglasses in a satchel I’ve brought, alongside another scarf. Currently, nobody nearby has anything to fear from me.

I can only hope that this remains the case. And that the same is offered in return.

I’ve been in the waiting room for nearly seven hours as the Assembly discusses my case. You’d think there’d be swank, comfy furniture here in Mt. Olympus, and maybe there is elsewhere, but in here, there’s nothing I can relax upon. Regular, narrow chairs are worthless when half your body is snake-like. I wish for a chaise, but then I chastise myself for unnecessary greed. The Assembly is already permitting me to be here to witness their decision; this is rarity and privilege enough. It’s not often they reconsider the actions of their members.

The receptionist, a stern-looking satyr, clears his throat. “Do you mind if I ask a question?”