MY WHISTLING FILLS the halls of Olympus. Whistling. Over a mortal. Who would have thought it? But Medusa isn’t just any mortal. She is beyond beautiful, beyond charming, beyond— Words simply cannot describe her. I want this tantalizing Athenian priestess so much, and with Athena away from her polis tending to some diplomatic efforts with the Amazonians, Medusa has had plenty of time to raise my interest. Raise it, that is, without fully satisfying it. I could force her I suppose, but by Hades, pursuing her is so exciting. I wet my lips and start to whistle another spur-of-the-moment tune, but my melody is cut off when I turn the corner to the common room.
"Do something," Demeter yells the moment I enter the vast space. I raise a hand to deflect the handful of seeds she hurls at my face. Hermes, standing to her side, instinctively flinches even though he’s in no danger of a seedy assault. What’s gotten her so wound up? Demeter is typically so calm, so able to ignore any strife. I chuckle at her outburst. In my good mood it's fascinating to see the amount of color anger brings to her normally pale face.
The other gods that had been idling away in the common room—Dionysus, Aphrodite, Artemis, and Apollo—look up from their game. Without a word to one another, they set down their cards at the same time, ready to enjoy their front row seats to the drama that is about to unfold.
"Do something about what?" I ask, picking away few grain seeds that have landed in my curly hair. With a sweeping gesture of my hand, I whisk the seeds aside to clear a path.
Demeter makes a sharp cutting motion with her forearm. The move is so violent that even I flinch this time, but she has no more miniature missiles left. Instead, the motion brings up a map of Osteria in the gazing pool near where she had been seated. With a wave of her hand she enlarges the kingdom of Minoa where a dozen young men and women are being escorted out of a train carriage by a group of beefy guards.
"That." Her voice shakes with emotion. I wish Hera were here to calm Demeter before her frustration rots all of Demos’s newly sprouted grain. Then I remember that if Hermes is here, Hera will be doing her best to stay as far from the common room as possible. Ever since she found out her winged friend was helping Zeus reunite with one of his lovers, Hera has refused to speak to the god that was once her favorite gossip partner. The row between them is ridiculous since Hermes wanted nothing to do with stealing Io from her captivity. But no one ever said the gods were logical creatures. Take Demeter for example, who right now is making no sense. What do I care if a bunch of young people make a tour of Minoa?
"I’m failing to understand how this is my responsib—"
My words are cut off when Demeter moves the view to focus on a caged beast that is also being moved from the train. The snarling creature, half human and half bull, kicks at his enclosure and bloody spittle flies from between the bars as he flings his head in rage. I can see what’s sparked Demeter's anger, but this is not my fault.
I charmed my way between Pasiphae’s thighs years ago. She wasn’t the prettiest woman; she can’t begin to compare to Medusa. But by gods she had a knack for bedsport. Unfortunately, much of her attraction to me was to spite her father, the titan Helios, who would have preferred the world to end before one of his offspring bedded a god. We carried on for a time, a few months perhaps. Although she didn’t tell me, I could sense that she was carrying my child. I was bursting with pride. I wanted to protect her because I really had fallen for her, and felt something more than lust and satisfaction when we were together. I had even asked Zeus to bring out her titan side and make her immortal so we could always be together. In a good mood himself—this was when he was desperately in love with Alcmena, Hercules’s mother—he said he would grant my request and bring her to Olympus. On the day I came to tell her the news, she didn’t greet me with any affection and even turned aside when I tried to kiss her.
"I haven’t eaten any garlic, my love," I had said teasingly, as I reached for her.
"This is over." As if she was speaking a new tongue even a god couldn’t translate, I did not understand her. I stood there staring, waiting for her to explain what she meant, what exactly was over. "My father thinks we are suited to one another. My father thinks I should give myself entirely to you." Her voice was full of contempt.
"I don’t understand. This is good news, isn’t it?"
"I was only with you to annoy my father, you idiot," she said with a peevishness that reminded me she was a very young human, only sixteen. "Now that he doesn’t care, I’m bored. You may go."
"You’re refusing me?" I asked dumbly as her words sank in. Her only response was to give me a sarcastic roll of her eyes before turning her back on me.
I have to say, I didn’t behave my best that day. I begged. I went down on my knees. I asked her to think of our child. As frustration mounted in me, I lurched up and grabbed her. I rubbed my thigh between her legs as she liked me to do, hoping to raise a passion in her again. She stared at me, boredom plain on her face.
"Go on, take your last turn if you must, but really, it’s been so dull the past several times with you I’d prefer you do it as quick as possible." Then she made sounds as if she was reaching her climax. Sounds she cut short as she grinned cruelly at me. "You’re such a bad lover you don’t even know when your partner is faking her excitement just to get things over with. My time in bed is better spent napping."
Like my brother and sister—Zeus and Hera—I’m used to getting my own way, I’m used to humans fawning over me or at least respecting me. I was hurt. I was angry. I was feeling my power. I shoved her away, wishing it was out an open window. She staggered to keep her balance, I cursed her saying the child she bore would be a monster. She shouted that Circe would concoct something to get rid of it, but I only laughed and snapped my fingers.
"He is now forever immune to poison. The only way to kill him is with a blade or your bare hands. The only way to rid yourself of it will be to kill yourself. And I doubt anyone would mourn you."
Even after I left, I was obsessed. I wanted to watch her die. My warning didn’t stop her from trying to poison the fetus. Even after she made herself sick with Circe's potions, the baby held tight. And when it came out, it was indeed a monster. I gloated over the horror on her face when she first saw him—the bovine head, the human body, and legs that ended in black hooves instead of tiny baby feet. She could have killed him then, but she didn’t. She kept him until he was too unruly to handle then handed him off to the Arean vigiles. I was never consulted in the matter of my son’s upbringing.
And yet, here I stand facing down Demeter’s anger and demanding expression.
"This monster is his mother’s child, not mine. I can’t control what she does with him."
Demeter scowls at my lack of contrition. "That thing is your creation. It's your responsibility to destroy it. Do you even know what the Osteria Council has been doing? What they and Ares and this Pasiphae have agreed to? The spawn of your lust is being used as a weapon and you think it’s nothing to do with you?"
I stammer, not out of guilt, but because I’m trying to answer all of Demeter’s questions at once, even though I have no clue what she means about the Council.
"He's been a bit busy," Hermes says waspishly. Demeter and I both shoot him looks of such scorn, he jerks back, sending his helmet wings fluttering. He raises his hand as if fending off an attack. "Just trying to help."
"I've been attending to the foaling of several of my horses," I lie, giving Hermes a glare that tells him to keep quiet about the time I’ve been spending in Athenos with Medusa. I remind myself to stop by my polis soon to check in on matters.
Then it dawns on me. For Demeter to be so upset, these people being lead from the train must be Demosians. Minos is playing some game with Pasiphae’s monster and these young people who I can now see are weeping and frightened. Whatever game this is, it will be a deadly one.
My skin goes cold, but I remind myself this has nothing to do with me. Pasiphae is an Arean, let Ares deal with her and whatever scheme she has concocted with Minos who, knowing Pasiphae, I would bet is her lover. Poor man. I swallow hard and tell Demeter in a firm voice, "I have told you before we need to stay out of mortal affairs."
"Says the god who is trying like mad to have an affair with a mortal," Apollo mutters and his little group giggles.
"My brother will agree," I insist. Zeus always has my back. He will see the silliness of Demeter’s demands. Since when are godly fathers responsible for the results of our lust?
"Given Zeus’s taste in bed partners," Hermes says, "he seems deeply interested in mortal affairs."
Just then, Hera enters the common room. Dionysus and the others scramble to pick up their cards and resume their game, but I can see them peeking over the tops of the hands they’ve been dealt. When Hera sees Hermes, she stiffens and makes an odd motion as if her feet are having a debate about whether to continue forward or to turn around.
"We could use your input, Hera," Demeter says flatly, accusingly.
Hera shifts. One foot, the one that wants to turn and leave, starts winning the debate. If I didn't think my sister was incapable of such emotions I’d swear she was feeling awkward, unsure of herself.
"I really need to review the plans for Portaceae."
Hermes’s wings beat a frantic pace. To everyone’s surprise—there’s even a couple gasps from the card table—Hermes flies over and grabs Hera’s arm as she turns to go. His touch isn’t rough or aggressive, but she jerks away as if his hands were fire.
"Portaceae is nearly rebuilt," he says. "You can't seriously need to consult plans." She opens her mouth to speak, but Hermes, gathering some unknown boldness, dares to cut her off. "And I've already seen the details for Salemnos, so I know you don't need to consult those schematics either." He reaches his hands out to her and his eyes change from angry to pleading. "Please speak with me, Hera. We’re a good team and we need to work together on this." He gestures to the scene in the gazing pool.
Her eyes widen at his request, the look on her face is one of surprised gratitude and warmth. But just as quickly as that, her eyes go cold, her lips sneer.
"We used to be a good team. Now I can't trust you."
Really, I have better things to do than watch this drama. I don’t normally butt in when the other gods have their tiffs, but stepping in to end this spat between Hermes and Hera will be worth it if it hastens my return to Athenos. I know exactly what sent Hermes after Hera’s rival and it wasn’t voluntary service; it was Zeus threatening him, goading him to go. But before I can explain to Hera that Hermes wasn't willingly serving Zeus, she snaps her fingers and vanishes in a silver mist.
The show between Hermes and Hera over, the card players place new bets, and Demeter turns her attention back to me.
"You can’t deny your part in this," she insists.
"If Ares is behind this then why not let Aphrodite charm her way into fixing it." I say looking toward the four gods at their card table. Aphrodite scowls at me. I’d forgotten she and Ares were no longer an item. Could Pasiphae be bedding Ares, not Minos? If so, Aphrodite must be fuming at the thought of a mortal sinking her claws into Ares’s flesh. "We are gods, we need to handle things amongst ourselves, not barge in whenever mortals get in pissing matches with one another."
"You may want to see this," Hermes says as he stands watching the action in the gazing pool.
Arean guards lead Pasiphae’s child to an underground chamber. Not long after, the twelve Demosians are locked in. In moments, it’s a blood bath. The other gods have drifted over to watch, but the show is over quickly. Surprisingly, even though there are no grapes involved, Dionysus shows a keen interest in the scene on Demeter’s map. When the other gods wander back to their game, he remains standing by the gazing pool. I follow his line of sight to a woman in red, who is quite pretty with a gentle yet intelligent face. So much for us gods sticking to our own kind. I turn away from the scene.
"I know you can’t kill him," Demeter says, "not with our stupid rules, but something needs to be done. According to this decree, which I still can’t believe the Council agreed to, every twelve days, twelve more are going to be called up. Will you just stand by so stoically when it’s Astoria’s turn?"
"I can’t kill him, but he’s not immortal," I say irritably. I still fail to see how this is my problem. Would it be rude if I just disappeared in a flash and went to see if Medusa is ready for me to slither into her yet? "It won't be long before someone comes along and takes care of him. Then the mortals can laud another hero. After all, they need one after the failure of Jason. Sorry Hermes, but your descendent has become a drunken sot." It’s a low blow, but Demeter has put me in a foul mood.
"His children were murdered before he could even name them," Dionysus says, looking up from the pool with a scowl on his square face. Hermes clenches his lips and his wings pinch themselves tensely against his helmet.
"It shows the mortals’ weakness of spirit. Osteria always needs a hero. Now they need a new one and they'll have a chance to make one."
I refuse to face any further accusations. With a clap of my hands, I vanish from the common room to go to the stables of my polis. Perhaps a gift of a new horse will sway Medusa.