Sweet Hell Page 6

  "No,” he replied, sounding equally awed. “Thank you, Josie. For not running away from me in terror. You don't know how much that means to me."

  "Why would anyone do that?"

  He smirked. “You'd be surprised at the reactions my kind have received through time."

  Oh God, she wanted him to kiss her again. Right at that moment, she wanted Dionysus to do all sorts of things to her, and they all involved being naked with him. They all involved the very big immortal penis she felt pressing against her belly.

  Lord, she really hoped that was his penis and that Greek gods didn't pad their briefs.

  And then she felt absolutely profane for thinking such a thing.

  Despite the merciless lust ripping through her, she couldn't forget the black shade that was Orpheus. The one who still seemed to hover over them, his music tinkling in the air like a distant, evil wind chime. “Um. I guess I should shower quickly and change, so we can get started."

  Was it her imagination, or did he look crestfallen? As if he wanted to kiss her too? “I guess so."

  She pulled herself away. “Would you mind putting out extra food and water for the cat? There's a bag of Kitty Yummies under the sink. And I guess I'll have to leave a message for my brothers. They're going to have to live without me for a while. I wish I could see their faces when they get a load of all those cannoli shells in the basement. Hopefully the bakery will still be standing when we get back.” She took a few steps toward her bedroom, then looked at him. “We're really going to Hades?"

  The heat hadn't left his eyes. For that matter, his erection hadn't gone anywhere either. She gulped.

  "Yes. I won't let any harm come to you. I promise. I know my way around the place."

  "Well,” she said as brightly as she could, trying to ignore the thought that her sexy pal had apparently been to hell a few times. “I'll consider it an adventure."

  "Good idea,” he concurred.

  And yet, as she headed for the bathroom, she could not miss the fleeting, worried look in Dionysus's eyes. The look that said he wasn't looking forward to this particular adventure.

  "So, where do we start?” Josie called from the bedroom where she was changing. “I never really thought about where the entrance to hell was located. I'm guessing it's not local?"

  She walked into the room, and Dionysus's mouth went dry. Which was pretty incredible for the god of wine because he could conjure up rivers of wine whenever he wanted. But right now, looking at her, he felt parched. As if he'd been stumbling through the Sahara for years.

  She'd showered, which had proven an excruciating exercise for him. Having to listen to the water coursing from her showerhead, imagining it as it traveled over each curve of her body. It had taken all his willpower not to materialize in the shower with her.

  Her hair was still wet, and she was towel drying it over her shoulder. She was wearing a sweet, little housecoat. Emphasis on the little. It was pink and silky and barely hit the midway point of her womanly thighs.

  "Where do we go?” she asked.

  "Your thighs,” he blurted.

  "Pardon?"

  Trying not to choke, he managed to speak. “Uh, you have thighs. I've never seen them before.” And then he laughed, as if he made jokes about women's thighs all the time.

  She turned red. He was such a tool! In a thousand years, no one had ever made him feel like a dimwit. It was a novel sensation. One he wasn't sure he appreciated.

  He decided to pretend the whole thigh incident never happened. Doing his best to keep his eyes on her face, he continued. “We don't actually have to go anywhere to access Hades. Being who I am, I can get there whenever I want. As soon as you're ready, I'll open the floodgates, so to speak."

  Still blushing, she ran back into her bedroom. Either to get dressed, or to careen away from him down the fire escape.

  She was back in five minutes, wearing a more sensible ensemble of ass-hugging jeans, ballerina flats, and a blouse with pearly buttons that was distinctly sexier than her usual T-shirts. Her hair was down and dry, glistening under the apartment lights, bouncing just above her shoulders. And, he noticed with a grin, she was wearing some sort of vanilla perfume.

  Nice. Things were improving.

  She inhaled and exhaled and walked toward him, stopping to nuzzle a delirious Cats Domino. She gave the creature enough hugs to last a few cat lifetimes, then turned to him. “I'm ready."

  "Don't mind me saying so, but you're fairly calm for a woman who's about to descend into the abyss. Aren't you scared?"

  "To be honest, I'm shitting myself. But you helped me when I needed it. You shouldn't have to do this alone.” Her face lit up with a shy smile. “Besides, if I don't drag you back from hell, I'll have to find a new obnoxious customer to deplete my supply of Madagascar cinnamon."

  It was alarming how much he was starting to like this woman.

  "Okay,” he said, trying to stay on track, as much as he had an urge to whisk her into the bedroom and treat her to a few uninterrupted days of his special talents. “A few ground rules. Do not ever let go of me. Don't talk to anyone in Hades. Don't walk away with anyone but me. If someone offers you something to eat, don't eat it. If they offer you something to drink, don't drink it. Basically, don't even make eye contact with anyone. Understand?"

  "Boy. You're worse than my mother was the first time I went to the mall on my own."

  "Yeah, well, the mall isn't Hades. Although there are similarities,” he said, grabbing her hand. “Ready?"

  She nodded bravely. And as he uttered the mystical words that would plunge them into the bowels of hell, he made a silent promise to take care of her. To keep a good eye on her.

  Ah, hell, who was he kidding? He would guard Josie with his life.

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  Chapter 6

  They were walking through a pitch-black landscape. Josie didn't know how they'd gotten there, but the journey had taken all of a second. The abrupt change in environment dismissed any lingering notions she had about Dionysus being no more than a talented magician.

  There was clearly more at work here than she understood. She quickly decided, for the sake of her already fragile sanity, to just go with it. After all, she figured she could have a worse companion in hell than a supreme being.

  And hey, she'd always wanted to travel.

  Unable to see in the darkness, she tripped on a rock. At least, she really hoped it was a rock. But before she could fall, Dionysus grabbed her to him. And although she couldn't see him, his fragrance of Concord grapes comforted her.

  She was beginning to love that scent. Wished she could bottle it.

  "So, hell's darker than I envisioned,” she commented in a voice that sounded much more sprightly than she felt.

  "We're not there yet,” he replied. “First, we have to cross the River Styx. We're almost there."

  Little by little, the darkness faded and a beautiful pastoral scene opened up before them. Josie gasped. It was breathtaking. There were meadows and trees and flowers of every color. Butterflies were dancing from bloom to bloom. Little bees were buzzing playfully. And in the middle of it all, ran a sparkling, laughing river. The water was so clear and inviting, she felt she could take her shoes off and dip her toes in.

  Her heart was filled with such happiness, she didn't ever want to leave that place.

  She turned to her companion and gasped.

  Dionysus had changed, or at least, his clothing had. Gone were the designer-distressed jeans and expensive shirt. He was now clad in what looked like an old-fashioned chiton, brilliant and white, belted at the waist and showing off very manly legs. It was slung across one muscled shoulder, displaying arms thicker than most men's thighs. He was wearing beautiful sandals, the type you'd see in old movies about Greek gods with lacings that wound up his sculpted calves. And he had a ring of laurel leaves in his dark curls.

  The effect was striking, making his whole appearance somehow even more masculine—and high
ly erotic. Josie found herself wondering, as she did whenever she saw a kilted Scotsman, if he had anything on under that white robe.

  "N-now I know I'm underdressed,” she stammered, unable to tear her eyes from his exposed body parts.

  For the first time since knowing him, he looked shy, but pleased. “This is just my god get-up. Much more comfy."

  "Comfy, right,” she murmured. Meanwhile, she stared at his bare legs, and the thought racing through her head was, “Easy access! Easy access!"

  Dionysus looked away from her, frowning. In fact, despite the tranquil, country surroundings, he didn't look impressed at all. He was more stern than she'd ever seen him. On guard.

  For the first time, she noticed he was carrying a weird stick. It looked like a walking stick with a pine cone stuck on the end. “What's that thing?"

  "That thing,” he said, “is my thyrsus. In the old days, it was a symbol of my power. It's a fennel staff and can be used as a weapon. I thought it might come in handy."

  "No offense, Dionysus, but it looks like you made your ‘weapon’ in grade two art class. It doesn't look too butch to me."

  He stared at her and grunted in warning.

  Her attention was diverted by a swishing sound. Gliding down the river toward them was a boat, much like the gondolas packing the canals in Venice. Steering it was a smiling, handsome man with dark hair winging over his shoulders. A man who looked so familiar, like a beloved face from her childhood.

  He approached. Josie blanched.

  "Is that David Cassidy?"

  Dionysus turned to her, frowning, and attempted to turn her face away from her childhood idol. “Josie, look at me. Look at me!” She did, begrudgingly. “It's not who you think it is. It's Charon, the ferryman of Hades. He brings new souls to the underworld."

  "But isn't he supposed to be ... skeletal. And not wearing bell-bottoms?” She darted another look at David Cassidy, who winked at her. She grinned back like a fool. God, she'd loved watching Partridge Family reruns with her mom, even long after the show had gone off the air. It was one of her favorite memories from her youth.

  "If you remember nothing about what I've told you, remember this,” Dionysus warned. “Everything here is an illusion, Josie. You're seeing what you want to see. Your teen idol. A happy meadow. Don't be fooled by the mirage. Because of who I am, I can see past all this. Believe me, I'm not seeing the same things."

  His words made a chill run down her spine. Charon/David offered her a hand to get into the boat, but Dionysus whacked it with his fennel stick thing, making the ferryman yelp in pain. Dionysus insisted on helping her into the boat himself. The ferryman chuckled, clearly unoffended, and pushed off again down the river.

  Josie sat on a little bench and Dionysus huddled next to her. He put his arm around her and she was glad of it. In fact, despite the outlandish situation, she was very glad of his company. Liked being with him. Liked how he was taking care of her. Now, if she could only forget the fact they were boating toward the place of eternal torment.

  "Why is it like this?” she asked. “You know, full of illusion."

  "Call it curb appeal,” he remarked dryly. “You'll be more likely to buy the house if you like the landscaping in front."

  He kept looking all around, as if expecting an attack. She couldn't help feeling nervous, in spite of the comforting setting. “What do you see?"

  Dionysus gritted his teeth. “You don't want to know."

  Josie felt her heart sink into her shoes.

  The ferryman continued rowing silently, and for a few minutes, they were silent too. At one point, a butterfly landed on her pant leg. It was lovely, with blue wings and a mottled body. Josie put out a finger toward it, but Dionysus was quicker. He aimed his thyrsus at it, and the stick lit up like a light saber. A blast of hot light shot from it, killing the butterfly instantly. He picked the remains off her pant leg and wiped the mess on the side of the boat.

  He looked sternly at her. “I told you not to touch anything."

  "It was just a pretty little bug."

  "And remember when I told you I could see past the mirage of this place?"

  She nodded.

  "Well,” he muttered, looking with distaste at the dead insect smudge. “Let's just say that wasn't a pretty little bug."

  Swallowing, she huddled closer to him. Christ! Even the butterflies in hell were evil!

  And that thyrsus thingy was more battle-worthy than it looked!

  Again, they did not speak for a few minutes, but before long, her curiosity got the better of her. “Will you know where to find Eurydice?"

  "I have some ideas."

  "If it's really been that long, maybe she won't want to leave. What if she doesn't want to join Orpheus in his section of hell?"

  "There's always that possibility, but I think she will. She did love him very much.” He regarded her with a curious expression. As if there was so much he wanted to say, but didn't know how to say it. As if he was trying to figure her out at the same time. And she couldn't look away. Didn't want to look away.

  Thankfully, he continued talking and broke the spell for the time being. “I feel sorry for Eurydice,” he said. “She was an innocent. It's not fair she was condemned as a lost soul. It wasn't her fault her lover turned into such a monster."

  "What did he do?” Josie whispered. “I remember the myths always talking about Orpheus like he was this beautiful, tragic character."

  "Tragic, my ass,” he muttered. “Of course, he was saddened by Eurydice's death, but it doesn't excuse his behavior afterward. He became depraved, lost all sense of conscience. He just wanted revenge on the gods. But he took it out on regular people. He buggered little boys, raped, and maimed others, just for the sick thrill of it. And he killed one of my friends. One of my maenads.” He paused, as if holding back some information. “Among others."

  "Maenads. I remember reading about them. They were your followers.” She was almost afraid to ask, was too bothered by the thought of Dionysus at an orgy. Surrounded by wanton women who would do anything for him. How many of them had been “special” friends of his? As much as the idea made her gut turn over, she continued, “Weren't they drunken, crazy women?"

  He grinned at the memory. “Nah. They could get a little silly on the sauce, but they were mostly misunderstood.” He got serious again when he saw her doubtful gaze. “Seriously, Josie, on his worst day, even Caligula could never outdo Orpheus."

  "How could she love him, then?"

  "She probably doesn't know the man he became. In Hades, she'd have no concept of what was happening in the mortal world.” He shrugged. “We'll reunite them, but it won't be our fault if she decides not to stay with him. We'll have done our bit. And besides, I can't have him threatening you."

  As he spoke those words, so close to her face, Josie felt the tingle of desire shoot through her core. His arms felt so good around her. Strong. Possessive. His intoxicating scent continued to mess with her senses, making her want to drink him in, to absorb him. She realized she was suffering from a major case of the cha-chas for him.

  But they were in hell. How on earth would they ever find an opportunity to kiss, or anything, in this strangely frightening place?

  She really wished they could find Eurydice right away and deliver the unsuspecting woman to her loony husband. And then Josie was pretty sure she was going to beg Dionysus, almighty friend to barflies everywhere, to make love to her in every possible way.

  But then, remembering another man who'd made her feel the same way once, she was determined not to let it happen. She couldn't.

  Steeled by her hateful recollections, she moved her body away from Dionysus by an inch or two. And tried to ignore his angry grunt.

  David Cassidy stopped rowing, and the boat bumped against the riverbank, effectively bringing her back to reality. Her teen hero turned to her and held out a gracious hand, but once again, the god swatted it away.

  He helped her out of the boat, and she watched as th
e ferryman pushed off. As he did, he smiled his most beautiful “I Think I Love You” smile at her. Which would have been really sexy if it weren't for the fact his teeth were now black and rotten, and a green mist was seeping out of his open mouth. As he rowed away, the David Cassidy facade fell from him like a useless blanket, and Charon became a ghastly, ghoulish beast. His eyes, so fixed on her, were devoid of life or of sympathy. Empty pockets of black nothingness.

  Josie shuddered, and, despite her clear intention to stay away from Dionysus's tantalizing body, she turned right into his sheltering embrace.

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  Chapter 7

  After a few minutes of walking, Josie started to feel a distinct sense of deja vu, although God only knew she shouldn't. She'd never been there before and was starting to feel she never wanted to come back. Sure, the scenery could be enticing, but she'd seen enough of creepy ferrymen dressed as 1970s singers and double-agent butterflies to know Hades was not her cup of tea.

  But would she come back when she died? She couldn't resist asking Dionysus. After all, if anyone would have those kinds of answers, he was the most likely of her acquaintances.

  "It's not really that simple,” he said by way of explanation. He looked at her as if deciding how much to reveal and squeezed her hand rather than elaborating.

  "Can't you talk about it? Are you forbidden?"

  "I'm forbidden to do a lot of things,” he chuckled. “Despite what you may have heard about me. Let me put it like this, if you live a good life and treat people well, chances are you won't end up in Hades. The people of my time used to believe all the dead came here, but it's not true. The only souls who end up in this place are the ones who are, well, lost. Troubled when they die."

  "But Eurydice? You said she was an innocent."

  "Yes, but she was ... unsettled at the time of her death. She died on her wedding day. She'd been pursued by a satyr, was running from him, and ended up stepping on a poisonous snake. There must have been enough turmoil in her soul when she passed that she ended up here.” Dionysus offered her a little smile, to console her after hearing the story.