Sweet Hell Page 7

  It didn't make her feel any better. “So, basically, I could be a good person and still go to hell just because I die with shit on my mind?"

  He hugged her around the shoulders, bringing her in tight to his body. “I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."

  They continued walking, and she realized they were walking on sand now. Beautiful, golden sand. And she smelled salt in the air. “Are you able to see when I'll die?"

  "No,” he was quick to assure her. “That's one of the things I can't do. And I can't bring someone back from death either."

  "Why not?” she inquired, tempted to take her flats off and walk barefoot in the sand. “Seems to me that should be one of the perks of your job."

  Dionysus frowned. “In truth, if I tried, I could resurrect someone from death. But we've been prohibited from doing so. Eons ago, Ares tried to resurrect a dead soldier so he could send him into a pivotal battle.” He grimaced. “It wasn't a good scene. A little too much like a bad zombie movie. None of us are permitted to do it now."

  "Oh,” Josie whispered, trying really hard not to imagine the implications. She'd always been terrified of Night of the Living Dead and preferred not to think about it.

  Luckily, within seconds, she was distracted by a noise. One she'd never expected to hear in Hades.

  It was the sound of waves crashing.

  She looked around. They really were on a beach. And it seemed so familiar!

  There were sandcastles all around, as if children had been playing, although no one was on the beach but them. She could see umbrellas in the sand, towels lying in places, and picnic baskets scattered all over. Just no people.

  The beach itself was lovely, dotted in places with big shells that had washed ashore. There were seagulls flying above them, and the water looked so blue and inviting. It gently lapped at the shore, and every so often, a larger wave would build, its white top rushing forward to pulverize the sand.

  "I've seen this place before,” she uttered, staring at the waves, feeling suddenly hypnotized. She suddenly felt the need to abandon Dionysus, wanting, for some strange reason, to throw herself into the surf. Although she didn't know why, she felt the compulsion to swim out to the open sea and venture deeper and deeper.

  As if her new home ought to be in the blue darkness.

  Dionysus turned her to look at him. His gorgeous face was etched in lines of worry as he gripped her arms. “Josie. Josie! Snap out of it."

  "I don't understand..."

  "We're in the first level of hell. They call this place ‘The Ordeal,'” he explained. “It's different here for everyone, but one thing is the same. This is a place where you are forced to face your worst fear. You need to tell me, Josie. What is your worst fear? Something to do with beaches? Are you afraid of the water?"

  She couldn't answer. Her mind felt so foggy. All she knew was that she wanted to swim in those tempting waves. They looked warm and clear, and she couldn't help feeling they would just envelop her and rock her.

  They would make her sleep the most peaceful of sleeps.

  She tried to pull away from Dionysus.

  "Josie! You have to stay with me!"

  "But it looks so nice in the water..."

  "It's an illusion! Remember?"

  He was reaching for her, grasping, but she was already sliding out of his grip. She never thought to question how she could do so. He was a big, muscled god with powers she'd likely never fully understand. And yet, one, little pull on her part, and she was free of his strong hold on her.

  Good.

  She wanted to swim, even though she could feel a distant memory tugging on her brain. Warning her to stay with Dionysus on the beach. Warning her to take note of the panic in his brown eyes, of the desperate way he was reaching for her.

  But why? Nothing made sense. She just wanted to be in the coursing waves, wanted to feel their invigorating lick on her skin.

  Spurred on by a sense of dreadful inevitability, she raced toward the surf. Even still, she could hear Dionysus shouting at her. Yelling something about facing her fear. About not being afraid.

  Promising he would find her.

  It didn't matter. She was there. The water was already drenching her shoes, lapping at her ankles. And it felt so good! Without wasting another second, she ran until she was waist-deep and then dove in.

  And realized immediately she'd made a horrible mistake.

  As soon as the first wave crashed over her head, she had a vivid flashback. A memory she'd had no choice but to forget so many years ago. But she could see it so clearly now.

  She was a four-year-old child, on holiday with her family in Florida. Her parents had taken her to the beach with her brothers. They'd been playing quietly by the water, but Mike and Angelo had begun to quarrel over a plastic shovel, of all things. Momentarily distracted by the boys as they fought, her parents turned away from her.

  It had been just a second.

  But long enough that little Josie was able to run toward the water's edge and get pulled in by the undertow. A huge wave had rolled in, and she'd been dragged out with it. Her little body had been sucked under the wave, and her lungs had filled with salty water. She'd gulped. She'd reached. She'd tried.

  She'd almost drowned.

  Even now, she could hear her parents shouting for her. Could feel someone's hand as it pulled her out of the water to safety that day. Could remember the wrenching agony of having all that salt water spurt back up her throat.

  All her life, she'd been terrified to go back to the beach. Couldn't stomach being in the water. So why had the beach in Hades not scared her?

  She remembered Dionysus's words. It was all an illusion.

  And yet, she was still under water and seemed to be plunging deeper with each passing second. There seemed to be no bottom, just an unending chasm, coaxing her ever downward. She used all the moves she'd learned in swimming classes, tried her best to tread, but her legs didn't seem to work. Didn't want to work. Josie flailed as darkness enveloped her. She reached up with her arm, trying desperately to climb back up to the fading light.

  Hysteria set in. She hated the ocean. It filled her with revulsion, with dread. Made her think of sharks and scary disaster movies. And death.

  Her clothes were heavy. Her flats felt like lead weights, pulling her down. Her hair was drifting into her eyes, clouding her vision. Was that even her hair at all, or something infinitely more sinister? Floating around her face. Thick tendrils dragging her down, down.

  Further down.

  Dear God!

  And then, once again, she thought of Dionysus. He'd warned her. Had tried to keep her on the beach. Why hadn't she listened?

  What had he said? She'd be forced to face her worst fear?

  Dionysus. Trying so hard to protect her. What must he be thinking?

  Somehow, in the watery darkness, she made the resolution. She wouldn't drown here in hell. Not today.

  With movements that felt sluggish and furious at the same time, she swallowed the last of her breaths, and propelled herself upward.

  Damn this place, she cursed in her head. Damn the ocean and damn David fucking Cassidy! I won't die here!

  As soon as the words screamed through her consciousness, a strong arm cut through the water and grabbed at her collar, yanking her out of the surf. Her head broke through the water, and she gulped down what seemed to be her first fresh breath of air in minutes. The arm dragged her from the unfeeling waves, spitting and sputtering, toward the beach.

  As soon as her eyes stopped stinging, she opened them and looked at the owner of the arm.

  It was Dionysus. Looking more scared and out of breath than even she felt!

  He'd saved her again. Or had she saved herself with her determination? Either way, her heart was skipping beats. Missing beats altogether for the pleasure of seeing his face, even more than because of her aptly-named ordeal. As terrifying as the moment had been, it felt so indescribably wonderful to have him come to her rescue. Ag
ain. What was a good mortal girl supposed to do with that?

  Dionysus couldn't stop gawking at her, couldn't stop running his hands over her face and arms, just to make sure she was okay.

  She had to be okay. Wet and scared, he could handle. Anything else...

  And then he ran a shaking hand over his own face. What had happened back there? She'd simply slipped out of his grip. And Zeus only knew, he'd pulled out a few stops to hold onto her. As a god, he was blessed with superior strength and dexterity, but he'd still had to utter a few words of enchantment to help keep her safe while she was out of his grasp.

  Something was working against him here.

  She'd just fallen away from him, as tenuous in his hands as a spirit. And he was having a bit of trouble recovering from losing her, even for that short-lived moment.

  He'd never forget the look in her terrified eyes as she was sucked down into the depths.

  "Dionysus,” came Josie's voice, tentative and afraid. “Are you okay?"

  She'd almost perished in the waves and was checking to see if he was okay?

  Gods help him, he wasn't. Not by a mile.

  She put a hand on his arm. He turned and embraced her hard, pressing her against his chest. Trying so hard to locate her scent under the ubiquitous saltiness of the water. Wanting to smell only her. Josie. Feminine. Sweet.

  Sugar and butter and lust, all rolled up together. Wrapped up with a ribbon.

  He had to taste her.

  He looked down at her, intending to do just that. But then she began to cough a bit more because of the water that hadn't quite all emptied out of her lungs. Poor, little thing. She was drenched from the vicious tides of Hades, and he was having visions of laying her down on the beach and getting sand in all their nooks and crannies.

  What was wrong with him? Clearly, he was short on empathy, among other things.

  He brushed her thick, sopping ropes of hair back from her face, but the water was still trickling into her eyes. There was a beach towel lying in a bag about twenty feet away. Not wanting to leave her, he pointed his thyrsus at it and the towel flew to his hand.

  "Whoa,” Josie said. “That was cool."

  Ignoring her, he began to dry her off, first patting her hair and then using a gentle hand to wipe her face. Carefully, so carefully, he ran the towel under her eyes, catching the drops on her cheeks. Then he ran it along the arch of her eyebrows, noticing at the same time how fine that arch was, taking note of the exact position of the little beauty mark near the corner of her right eye. And then he wrapped the towel around her shoulders and pulled her in with it. Close to him. He laid his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

  They sat like that on the beach for what seemed like almost an hour, although he knew it was only minutes. He almost felt calmed listening to the lapping of the waves, but couldn't forget how those waves had almost swallowed her up.

  And each time he remembered, he experienced an alien soreness in his chest. Aching, chafing, near the vicinity of his heart. Making him want to hold her tighter.

  No doubt some sort of sex-crazed mania. He'd obviously gone too long without. Clearly, he needed to complete this mission, get Josie back to her bakery safely, and find a woman to fuck. Pronto.

  This had nothing to do with his bizarre feelings for the girl who poured his coffee. Nothing. He just needed to get laid. Preferably with some nameless, willing stranger.

  But then he once again remembered the sight of her small hand reaching out of the surf for help, and was almost reduced to tears like a freaking baby. No one else had ever done that to him. Except Ariadne.

  "Ariadne."

  "Who's that?” she asked quietly.

  It was only then he realized he'd said the name out loud. “Oh. A woman I used to know."

  She gazed at him without saying a word. Her lovely hazel eyes lit with interest and worry, and well, something else. An indefinable something that made his insides tingle and his pants tighten. She was waiting for him to elaborate. He just didn't know if he should.

  But the openness in her expression made the words fall out of his mouth. “Did you ever hear the story of Theseus and the Minotaur?"

  "Yeah. The big monster with the head of a bull.” Her eyes popped. “Don't tell me it was all real too!"

  He nodded. “Every word.” Once again, he picked up his thyrsus and used it to draw a picture in the sand. And then he saw Josie's eyes widen as the sand drawing animated and sprang to life, like a little movie reel being played out on a gritty screen.

  And he saw it all again, as if it were yesterday.

  In the little image drawn by the thyrsus, he watched the hero Theseus slay the bull-headed monster and gave Josie the play-by-play. “Theseus outwitted the Minotaur in the maze with the help of the princess Ariadne. Without her guidance, he never could have done it. She gave him a sword and a ball of thread, so he could find his way out of the labyrinth and save the victims of the Minotaur."

  Josie gasped as the picture on the sand changed, as it now depicted the image of a beautiful woman on a rock, gazing with sadness into the ocean. “What happened to her?"

  He stared at the conjured picture of Ariadne, feeling regret and pain. And then he looked away, unable to endure seeing her anymore. “After he vanquished the monster, Theseus abandoned Ariadne on the island of Naxos. He just left her there all by herself! He was such a shit. Anyway, I found her there some time later."

  Josie was nibbling her bottom lip, totally engrossed in his tale and in the sandy movie playing out in front of her. And he realized he was totally engrossed in the sight of her nibbling her lip. He forced himself to clear his head and continue. “As you can see, Ariadne was lovely. Long blonde hair. Pretty eyes. A body made for sin.” He exhaled audibly. “I married her."

  Her face paled seventeen shades. “You're married?"

  "No. Gods, no. I mean, not anymore. She's been dead for eons,” he quickly responded. He used the thyrsus to erase the pictures on the sand. “Orpheus killed her."

  "You're kidding!"

  "I'm afraid not. It was when he was on his bender, grieving for Eurydice. He had it in for the gods, as I mentioned. He thought we were to blame for the death of his wife.” He considered. “I don't know. Maybe we were. Maybe we could have stopped it.” He hung his head in his hands. “Anyway, I'd built a little house on Naxos where Ariadne and I could be together. One day while I was away, Orpheus found her. He'd strangled her. She was pregnant with my child."

  She didn't say anything for the longest time, just held his hand. And despite the grief in his heart, her hand in his felt really good.

  "I'm sorry,” she finally whispered. “So sorry."

  "I've never told anyone about the child, Josie. No one. Not even my cousin Eryx knows, and I'm closest to him."

  It was true. He'd kept the news of the baby a secret for millennia. A terrible ache he'd never quite confronted, nor been willing to confront, until getting to know Josie. Something about her made him want to explore every ignored section of his little-used heart.

  And now the grief, so long denied, was rushing through him like the current that had sucked Josie into the depths. Relentless. Pitiless. Inevitable. A somber specter he'd been running from for centuries. It had created a gaping wound in his soul. One he'd sought to mend in the beds and between the legs of women he'd never bothered to know.

  Dionysus realized he was trembling, as if racked with fever. The little ghost of his unborn baby was taunting him, teasing the corners of his mind. As if to say, “See, Father? You thought you could escape me, but you can't."

  He hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut, silently asking for forgiveness from the child that never was. Wishing he'd done so a long time ago.

  Josie put a hand on the back of his neck. “Grief is a horrible thing, isn't it?"

  He looked up at her, in awe because her quiet companionship was acting as a balm on him. Taking every pain away. “Not so horrible when it's shared. I didn't know that.” Peac
e swelled through him as she gently rubbed his neck, her soft fingers stimulating every pressure point from his ears to his shoulders. “It must have been hard for you when your parents died."

  "Sure, but I had people I could talk to. It doesn't sound as if you did."

  He smirked. “I've never been much of a talker. I've always let my crotch do the talking for me."

  "Well, I'm honored that you talked to me, Dionysus."

  He stared at her on that hellish beach, her golden hair drying in the breeze. Sand stuck to her soaked jeans. The skin on her fingers puckered from the water.

  She was breathtaking.

  He wanted to kiss her again. Quite urgently.

  "So,” she said, interrupting his strange, obsessive thoughts. “Seeing as we're in this ‘ordeal’ place, does that mean you're going to be facing your worst fear too?"

  He brushed his fingers along her cheek, mesmerized by her face, realization slicing through his consciousness. “I already have."

  "Right,” she said softly, lowering her eyes. “Ariadne. Of course."

  "No, Josie,” he replied, feeling a sudden urge to unburden himself of all the emotions he'd been carrying around since he met her. He tilted up her chin to look at him. “A few months ago I might have agreed with you. But now... My worst fear came true today. When I saw you disappear under that water. That was my ordeal."

  He wasn't sure how she'd react to his statement. Part of him hoped she might swoon, and confess her excruciating need for him. An even bigger part of him wished she'd pounce on him, revealing she had an ailment which required her to have wild sex every hour on the hour. The biggest part of him was shocked he had even emotions to confess at all.

  In the end, the scene didn't quite unfold the way he'd hoped. She surprised him, but not necessarily in a good way.

  Despite the fact he'd laid his heart out for her, or whatever that piece of muscle was beating in his chest, her eyes grew hard and distrustful. For the long life of him, Dionysus would never forget the disappointment he felt after confessing his feelings and seeing the expression on Josie's face.