Chapter 5 – Hecate #2
Hades is lying back on a pillow. He strokes one man’s cock, while a woman sucks his.
Like usual, his wife is nowhere to be found.
But I know she enjoys both men and women too, like most of the gods.
She just prefers the same lovers...lovers she’d formed real bonds with.
For her, it’s not about the sex. It’s about having someone special in this dark place.
Hades’s dark eyes, ringed by red, connect with mine as he reaches forward to grab the pipe that’s handed to him with his free hand. “And here she is folks, the first witch, Hecate herself!”
All gazes are suddenly on me, and the din of the laughter and conversation dies down. Hades has seven guests, five males and two females. All of them are gods of some kind, and yet, I don’t recognize any of them.
A man with golden hair swept back from a chiseled face says, “She looks the part, but is she such a great and powerful witch?” His pale brow raises in an arrogant way.
“You look the part of an asshole god, but are you one?” I counter back.
Hades’s mouth twists with anger, and he starts to rise.
But the golden-haired man surprises us both by throwing back his head and laughing, a booming sound. “She certainly has the attitude of a great and powerful witch.”
Hades gives me another look that promises revenge. “It’s lucky that Priapus tolerates your fucking tongue.”
Priapus. I know that name. My gaze moves down and I see the massive erection tenting his toga. Uh, yes, the god of enormous, powerful erections, or some shit like that. Hades always has the best company.
Geez. My lucky day.
“So then, witch,” another man shouts. “Show us what you can do.”
“What do you want me to do?” I ask, but my gaze is glued to Hades.
He puffs out smoke from his pipe. “Give us a premonition, witch.”
This is easy. I move to the fire burning in the center of the pillows. The flames dance as I gaze down at them, and I will myself to open up to the magic around me. I spread my arms and close my eyes. The magic seems to dance over my flesh, and I hear a few gasps from the gods.
No, I don’t need to make this whole show of my premonitions, but I’m also not a fool. I don’t need Hades even more pissed at me, so I figure a good show might make up for the fact that I can’t be demure and respectful if my life depends upon it.
I spread my arms wider. “Great and powerful magic, bring forth to me your second-sight!”
It’s hard not to laugh, but I feel the flames jump in front of me.
And I don’t kid myself that the gasps are because I’m just so awesome.
These idiot gods are high as kites. All this cheesy shit is going to make them happy as hell.
Pinwheeling my arms a little then flapping them a bit, I spread out my arms and stare at the ceiling.
I jerk and tense, as if a powerful image is coming over me.
Then, I actually relax and let the magic in. It sweeps through me like a playful wind. An old friend I’ve missed for so long.
One of the things no one but the first witch can understand is that magic really is like a child.
And just like I helped my own daughter to escape this dark place, I don’t like to bring the magic here.
Magic didn’t like the darkness or the suffering of the Underworld.
Its light, the joy that beams within it, dims in this place.
And because I’m the first witch, and the magic is like a child to me, when the magic dims down here, it dims everywhere.
And so even though I could use my magic here to make my life better every day, I don’t. Not unless I absolutely need to. Instead, I close my eyes and feel the magic, felt its happiness deep inside, and take comfort knowing that my sacrifice is worth it.
But this is one of those rare moments I have to bring it here.
I open myself up wider and wider to the magic and let myself go...I let myself accept whatever promotions the magic might bring. This is the moment the images usually slam into me. This is the moment I see things, some good things, some bad.
And yet, nothing happens.
I relax my body and frown, reaching harder and harder for the magic. I feel it dancing, brighter and more powerful than I ever could’ve imagined, but no premonitions come. This has never happened before. When I call the magic, it responds.
Unable to help myself, I chance a glance at Hades. He does not look happy. My heart races a little faster.
“I see...I see people both beautiful and wise. I see them living lives of happiness and pleasure. But I also see jealous figures who would dare to take some of their joy. Be wary, gods, for you have jealous enemies and must be cautious.” Then I open my eyes and come off of my tiptoes.
I look out at the group of gods and hold my breath.
They begin to clap.
Priapus leans over a topless goddess and says, “I knew there were a lot of people that envied me.”
“Me too,” she says, shaking her head before drinking her wine.
Everyone seems happy. Everyone but Hades. I try not to look at him, but I can’t help it. His anger is more painful than the heat from a fire or the sting of a whip.
He rises. “Excuse me. I shall escort my witch out.”
My stomach is tied in knots as I follow him out, Andros at my back. This is not going to end well, not at all. If Hades is leaving his party, I’m in for trouble.
We step out the two doors that the guards hold open for us, and we walk a little further until the doors close, cutting out the laughter and music of the throne room.
Then, faster than a snake could strike, Hades whirls around and slams me against the stone, holding me by the throat.
I can feel the tension in Andros. I see his hands curl into fists, but he stares straight ahead, not at us, and I know this is one more moment he’ll hate himself for.
“What the fuck was that shit?”
“I don’t know what you m--” His hand closes around my throat, cutting off my breath and the words.
“Lie to me, witch, and I will have the gargoyle whipped raw.”
The pressure around my neck decreases, and I suck in deep breaths. My eyes are locked with Hades. And in their depths, I see the truth. He already knows I faked my vision. Lying will only piss him off.
“My visions didn’t come. I don’t why. It’s never happened before.”
I expect him to beat the shit out of me or to fly into a rage. Instead, he releases my throat and his brows draw together. “Andros, take her to the doctor. I will know before the end of this day what is broken with my witch.”
He turns and heads back to the throne room, but I swear I’m more afraid of this than his beating.
What if something is wrong with me? If he can’t use my powers for his amusement, he no longer has a purpose for me.
He’s told me should that day ever come, that he’ll lock me away with the titans in a dark, bleak eternity I can never escape from.
The thought of that dark place with the titans fills my nightmares.
“Come on,” Andros says gruffly, grabbing my arm roughly and dragging me down the hall. But his thumbs rub my skin softly, reassuring me even if it’s the only way he can.
The main doctor in the Underworld isn’t known for helping people. But he sure as hell knows how to hurt us.
I’m in trouble. Serious trouble. Unless I get lucky.