Chapter 2
WHERE EVERYONE GANGS UP ON THE DEVASTATINGLY BEAUTIFUL MUSE (IT’S NOT HER FAULT SHE IS GORGEOUS)
“ P urgatory” basked in a positively wonderful abundance of sunshine and blue skies this time of year. After the freeze-your-tits-off temperatures of Paris, Erato unzipped her jacket and immediately felt better. So did her tits.
The yacht, so large as to have its own helicopter pad, was resplendent in the Indian Ocean’s water.
It had only taken Erato a week to find it and she had had to ask Hera, of all people, for help.
Hera had been rude—which was par for the course—but overall helpful enough.
She pointed out that if Persephone didn’t come to Demeter—with no sight of spring on the horizon, she had not been spotted either—then surely, Demeter had gone to see her daughter.
Erato fought off a somewhat unpleasant premonition that had plagued her since the night she lost her mind in Vegas and braved Purgatory. She never did like boats.
Charon waved her on board, and, having seen much in his long long life, asked no questions, merely pointed to the front of the immense walkway from where laughter and conversation could be heard.
Erato’s twinge of premonition became a permanent background noise once she rounded the corner and came face to face with the party.
A hodge-podge of immortals were dancing around, mingling and sipping on cocktails.
This was exactly her scene. Except Erato felt overdressed in her kneehigh boots and the leather was making her uncomfortably sweaty.
Taking it off right now would probably just reveal moist armpits.
Erato had more class than that. Usually.
So she decided to keep the jacket on, no matter how ridiculous she looked when everyone was cavorting in bikinis and sarongs.
Speaking of sarongs… Demeter was wearing one.
Along with the most beautiful ivory top that left very little to the imagination, the generous curves, accentuated by thin straps, revealing gorgeous gleaming skin.
She must’ve just returned from a dip in the ocean.
The ocean Erato did not like but felt immensely better about all of a sudden.
“You look… hot under the collar.”
The voice in her ear was low, sly, and could belong to only one individual.
Erato turned slowly to behold the Mistress of Hell. Hades, in flowing linen pants and barely held together white shirt, grinned, showing a row of perfect teeth. Her eyes, however, were dead serious. Erato wanted to laugh at her own pun.
Still, she checked her mirth and offered a smile, but even to her own self-deluded conscience, it was fake.
She knew it, Hades knew it. Amongst all this grinning, Erato could see from a mile away, Hades knew something was afoot and was determining what to do about the wayward muse.
Playing games with the Goddess of the Underworld was never wise, but then Erato had never been accused of being anything of the sort.
“I am not just hot, but also very good looking. Even Cerby here acknowledges it.” She reached out and gave the two hundred pound hound at Hades’ feet a nose boop.
The black beast plopped down and showed his belly.
Hades looked down and rolled her eyes in disgust. Cerberus gave Erato the biggest, goofiest doggy grin.
“Ha, see, I know I still got it.” She flicked her hair away from her face. Hades’ look was anything but impressed.
“He’s a dumbass. I am not. You’re sweating.”
Erato stood straighter and almost reached Hades’ height. In all her years, she never thought she’d have to face two guard dogs when trying to speak with this particular Goddess, and yet here Hades stood, all but impeding her access to Demeter.
“What can I say, H, I’ve grown unaccustomed to the warmth.”
The moment she said it, both she and Hades realized it was the absolutely wrong thing to say.
Without a backward look, her arm was seized and Erato was pulled into the cabin closest to the upper deck.
When the door shut, Hades leaned back against it and gave her a long, appraising look.
Erato knew better than to speak. After what seemed like forever, Hades tsked, then took a step towards her.
Then another. Then another. When they were almost face to face, a crimson tipped finger drilled into Erato’s chest.
“I don’t know what you did. I don’t even want to imagine it.
But I got calls from Hera, something about the cold and my mother-in-law, from Poseidon, his seas are not entirely right, from Helios, he cannot figure out the length of the days anymore since they are all the same, and from Zeus.
What he wanted is anyone’s guess, because I think he called to appease Hera. ”
Hades narrowed her eyes and continued.
“However, imagine my surprise when on top of all the nuisance calls from nuisance gods, I get a very nonchalant call from my darling Aphrodite. She doesn’t complain, doesn’t demand anything, just casually asks if you have stopped by. And if you and Demeter talked.”
Damn Aphrodite and her lack of faith in her.
So what if Erato took a little detour to Rome on her way to “Purgatory”?
So what? She did need some courage and maybe a plan to tackle this problem.
Granted, she got no courage in Italy and fighting off advances from Nike was probably what kept her from developing any semblance of said plan.
Still, she thought her friend and boss would’ve had more faith in her. Clearly Aphrodite did not.
Before she opened her mouth to say—what exactly, only Fates knew—Hades poked her with the finger again. She’d probably have a bruise the size of Acropolis on her sternum.
“My mother-in-law has been through literal hell. And yet here you are, Erato, the Muse of Hoery, trying to do what, may I ask?”
It could’ve been the fingertip drilling a hole in her. It could’ve been the more than derogatory appellation towards her profession. But Erato suspected it was the look of veiled contempt in Hades’ eyes that tore through her patience.
She slowly batted the finger away and took a step sideways.
Hades raised an eyebrow. The gesture was perhaps as effective as Aphrodite’s.
But something inside Erato had gotten its dander up and while she did not want to examine exactly why—no, she was absolutely not hurt by the implication that she was not good enough to even seek Demeter out, that absolutely wasn’t it—it gave her a boost to grant the Goddess of the Underworld a glare of her own.
She had been told it was highly potent. And highly—devastatingly so—beautiful.
If Hades was affected, she said nothing, but her face lost that veil of contempt and was now sporting a curious expression of wonder.
“What do you want, Erato?”
“To fix this?”
Hades shook her head.
“Do you even know what you are fixing?”
Erato tried very hard not to blink, but Hades’ exhalation spoke volumes.
“I thought so. Listen… Hoery aside, you being promiscuous for millennia aside… Demeter is tender. And precious and she has been hurt enough?—”
“By you, you mean to say.”
You could hear the sound of the waves outside the cabin in the ensuing silence.
Hades’s stare got hard and Erato almost flinched.
Almost. She’d never considered herself particularly prideful.
One really wasn’t much for pride when leading her kind of lifestyle for an eternity.
But that above mentioned something, settled dead center of Erato’s chest and wouldn’t allow her to show weakness, or how utterly inferior she felt…
Or how that inferiority stung. So she gathered herself and spoke quietly, enunciating every word, knowing that Hades could smite her down to the Underworld at any moment.
“I don’t mean to hurt her. But she is an adult. So am I. And maybe you need to not be here?—”
“That much, I agree with, Hades.”
Demeter glided into the cabin, all gorgeous curls and golden eyes, and Erato damn near swallowed her tongue. Fates, she was breathtaking. Realizing her jaw was hanging somewhere in the vicinity of her belt, Erato once again tried to school her features. It was harder this time.
Hades crossed her arms over her chest.
“Mother, you’ve only just arrived on board this morning. Maybe some rest?”
“Maybe you leave me and the muse alone… Run along, Hades and take that mut with you. Sepphie has been feeding him too much ambrosia.”
Hades looked sheepishly—as sheepish as the Goddess of the Underworld could muster to look—out the open door where her dog was basking in the sun, clearly zonked out on the food of the gods before giving Demeter a half bow and Erato a “I’m warning you” glare and disappearing.
Erato raked her fingers through her hair and desperately searched for something to say. After all, she had taken an entire week to think things through in Rome. When nothing came to mind, she went for her most winsome smile. Demeter’s words were cutting.
“Whoever told you it’s some kind of lethal weapon, lied to you, Muse.”
But Demeter’s voice, rich and low, caressed her like velvet.
Erato’s smile widened. She knew the intonations in this voice.
She knew the tone and the expressions. The notes that ran from ecstasy to restless calm before the storm.
And she always knew when a woman was faking it.
She might be a lowly muse, but this particular knowledge was her stock in trade, no matter how much Hades sneered in her direction.
So she took a step closer and licked her lips. When Demeter took a deep breath and visibly braced herself, Erato leaned closer.
“Hello, lover.”
Just outside of the cabin door, Erato heard someone fall and Persephone call for someone to help revive her passed out wife.