Blood of the Sun

  Blood of the Sun

  Mara Lee

  Published 2005

  ISBN 1-59578-122-6

  Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2005, Mara Lee. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Liquid Silver Books

  http://lsbooks.com

  Email:

  raven@lsbooks.com

  Edited by

  Christine Miller

  Cover Art

  by Colby Hausmann

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To C: Love lasts forever.

  Chapter One

  One hundred stories off the ground and still she felt grounded—imprisoned. She was caged in this monstrosity of metal and glass where one could neither hear the wind nor feel the sun. It mattered little that humans considered such atrocities of steel to be fashionable and impressive. The office held no joy for her. Nothing did. It was torturous. It was life—mortal life.

  She had been abused before—cast into a cave and deserted. Her presence, it was said, was distracting … disturbing and such disturbances were not tolerated—not by those used to complete attention.

  Life, be it eternal or not, seemed to follow the rules of fate. And fate was known to be quite fickle.

  Aega Helios smoothed one slim hand down her hair and watched the setting of the sun from her office window. It could have been beautiful. It would have been beautiful if not for the fact that she was contemplating her imprisonment and not relishing the glory of Gaea.

  “You mustn’t frown so … it diminishes your brightness, lady.”

  Aega sighed. She knew that voice—the voice of beauty … the voice that would lead you astray—oh yes, she knew that voice. “Hermes … what brings you to my suffering today?”

  Hermes smiled a practiced smile. “You grow lovelier by the day, lady.”

  She waved the trite compliment away. “Did you come to compliment, or tell me something of worth?”

  Hermes pouted and sighed. “You are quick to take away my fun.”

  “I see no fun. Do hurry, my patience is wearing thin.” Aega sat gracefully at her large mahogany desk and waited.

  “What would you say if I told you that I merely came to revel in your beauty?”

  Aega narrowed her eyes and her body began to pulse with a fine, brilliant light. “I would say that you have two seconds to diminish from my office before my light blinds you … or worse.”

  “Your temperament,” Hermes frowned, “sadly, has not improved.”

  Aega scowled and began to tap her fingers on the polished surface of her desk. “I would like to see how your temperament fares after being sentenced to a life on Earth.”

  “A mortal lifespan, that is all.” Hermes circled the desk. “You can spare a mortal lifespan.”

  Aega made a disgusted sound from deep within her throat and shoved away from the desk.

  “I have spared a lifetime and more, Hermes. How long must I wait until I may return?”

  Hermes cleared his throat. “That, lady … is what brings me here today.”

  She groaned. “Hermes, please do not tell me that this sentence gets worse.”

  “Helios and Gaea are…” Hermes began before he was cut off.

  “For the love of Zeus!” Aega spat out. “Goddess be, are my parents at it again?”

  Hermes shrugged. “Something about the necessity of a second sun.”

  “I thought they settled that argument seven thousand years ago,” Aega said bitingly.

  “It would seem that they are at it again.” He sighed deeply. “So, you see, until they have reconciled, they feel your time would be better spent here. They are concerned, of course, for your welfare.”

  She snorted and tossed her long, thick hair over her shoulder. “My father has never cared for anyone save himself. It is well known that he does not want the competition.”

  “Lady … I doubt that he … well … I’m sure that it is not…”

  “Oh do be quiet, Hermes. You know as well as I that my father neither wishes to see my face, nor have my presence anywhere near the mountain. No radiance as brilliant as he is allowed to disrupt his…” Aega frowned, “ego.”

  “Lady!”

  “It is true. Father fears me, has always feared my sun. ‘Tis why he had mother cast me into a cave. ‘Tis why he has banished me here, to Earth.”

  “Lady…” Hermes placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Aega … your respite here will be but a fleeting moment in the long journey of time. You will once again see the hallowed halls of our glorious mountain.”

  Aega turned and in an uncharacteristic move, buried her head in his chest. “It is just that I miss it so, Hermes,” she murmured against him.

  Hermes wrapped his arms around her and brought her deeper into his embrace. It was too much for him to bear—the nearness of her. Her body was cast in a delicious glow—her hair a halo of light, her eyes twin pools of amber. She was all that was fine and brilliant, and he wished to know such glory. “I know … I know … but calm yourself, Aega.” Her name came out on a caressing wind. “You can, you will, have it all again. Indeed … you could have it now…” Hermes ran his hand slowly down the small of her back.

  She frowned and looked up into his handsome face. “Are you trying to seduce me, Hermes?”

  “I merely offer comfort, Aega.”

  “Comfort?” Aega pulled away from him. “Your comfort is suspiciously like seduction.”

  Hermes smiled and tilted his head to one side. “Call it what you will.”

  Her hands clenched into fists. “I call it foolish, Hermes. Do you think that I do not know about your conquests? I am not one of your foolish maids to be turned by a handsome face and a few poetic words. I am a Goddess.” Aega could feel the amber fire in her eyes and let her rage pour over her. “My position is not diminished by the corporal nature of my existence here. I still remain the essence of myself. And if you do not wish to feel my fire … I suggest you take your leave.”

  Hermes drew an arm to his eyes to ward off the brilliant light that was blinding him.

  “Yes, yes, I shall take my leave, lady. Your light does nothing but pain me now. You may wish to reconsider my offer, though. I am your best chance to see the grandeur of what you once were.” With those haughty words he vanished from her office.

  Aega slumped against the window and slowly she let her light diminish. So like a God to think that he could, with one small touch … a few sympathetic words, find himself between her thighs. Gods and men were all alike—nothing but ego and self-deceived grandeur.

  “I will see myself returned,” Aega whispered. “And I shall do it without your help, Hermes.”

  * * * *

  Aega finished the last loop and tied off the thread. All in all, it had come out nicely. Perhaps she would hang it on her wall. She did so love to weave. It was a consistent source of comfort, and a soothing balm on her very weary soul.

  “Why you continue to bother with such a mundane task when you could just leave it up to the Fates is beyond me.” Persephone’s lilting voice filled the cavernous room and instantly brightened it.

  Aega did not look up from her work. “Persephone, do you not have someplace to be? Like at your husband’s
side?”

  Persephone pouted prettily and floated over to Aega and her loom. “Hades shall not miss me.” She grimaced. “He’s working in the forge with Hephaestus. He’s always more focused on the iron these days than on me.”

  Aega smoothed her hand over the fine silk and looked for pattern breaks. “That is not true, and you know it. That God is devoted to you. Would that I could command such devotion.”

  Pleased in spite of herself, Persephone preened. She smoothed a hand down her thick chestnut hair and glowed.

  “You are looking well, Aega.”

  “For a banished Goddess, you mean.”

  Persephone frowned. “Your temperament has not improved.”

  “So Hermes said when he came to call yesterday.”

  “Hermes came to call?” Persephone’s eyes narrowed.

  “Indeed. He broke my solitude.” Aega pushed away from her loom and stood. Her brightness pushed outward, filling the room.

  Persephone covered her eyes. “Aega … your light.”

  With a sweep of her regal hand, Aega diminished her glow. It would not do to blind the Queen of the Dead. She did not feel like provoking Hades’ ire. And she would if she injured his queen.

  “Better?” Aega asked softly.

  Persephone nodded, her expression turned somber. “Aega … I have a boon to ask of you.”

  Aega’s eyebrows lifted in obvious surprise. “A boon. Persephone, I fear you have the wrong Goddess. I am no one to grant a boon.” Her eyes narrowed. “Especially not to a Goddess such as yourself. You realize I have been banished.”

  “I do.”

  “And you know why?”

  Persephone’s jaw clenched before she answered. “Because your father is a complete fucking moron and an insanely jealous God?”

  Aega stifled back a chuckle. It just did not seem to go together—the Goddess of the Dead and swearing. “Indeed. Now you see why asking a boon of me is completely ridiculous. I could no more grant you a boon than set a second sun on this frivolous little planet.”

  Persephone’s mouth twisted. “Do not be so sure of that. Have you tried?”

  Aega stiffened. Of course she hadn’t tried. Her father would toss her out with Atlas—and unlike Atlas, her shoulders were not strong enough to hold such a burden as he was cursed with if she ever tried to outshine her father by setting her sun brighter than his. She was ambivalent … not stupid.

  “I have much to do, Persephone, does this visit have a point?”

  Persephone nodded curtly. “It is as I said before. I have need of you, Aega.” Her eyes roved the room. They came to rest, interestedly, on the collection of weapons on Aega’s walls. “Do you still have talent with steel, Aega?”

  Aega gave here a tired look. “My talent did not diminish with my banishment. It is still here.” She scoffed. “What good it does me, however … in this state … on this earth…” her words trailed off.

  Persephone looked pleased. “Well, good, it shall prove helpful.” She sighed and began again, “There is a situation that I need you to … look into for me.”

  “Oh?” Aega poured herself a glass of red wine.

  Persephone’s brow knit and she took a deep breath. “I … I … wish you to take a trip to Connecticut for me.”

  “Pardon?” Aega turned to face the beautiful Goddess. “I fear I misunderstood you.”

  Persephone stood her ground. “You heard me right. I wish you to go to Connecticut.”

  Aega laughed. “All right, you have my attention now. Why may I ask are you instructing me, nay, asking me to go to Connecticut?”

  “Because Ditheous is there, and I must know how he fares. Indeed, I crave the knowledge. I fear there are forces at work against him.”

  Aega frowned. “Ditheous?”

  Persephone’s face fell into a stoic mask but her hands clenched tightly at her sides. “Blood of my blood.”

  Aega watched as the Queen of the Dead paced nervously across her floor. It was sight she never thought to see. Persephone had always been so composed … so … rigid. She had been the perfect daughter to Demeter and she was known to be the perfect wife to Hades. In truth, Aega had always hated the beautiful Goddess—for here was a daughter who was loved.

  Had Aega ever known love?

  And now, this bizarre request—to seek out Persephone’s distant blood relative? It was too odd for even her twisted mind to comprehend. How was it possible?

  “You are wondering how it is possible?” Persephone asked quietly. She smiled at Aega’s annoyed expression. “No, I did not read your mind, I merely understand your questions.” she cleared her throat. “I think I shall have a cup of wine, thank you.”

  Aega handed the flustered Goddess a goblet.

  “Do you remember Theseus, Aega?”

  Aega wracked her brain. “Theseus?” She frowned. “Was he not that foolish king from Athens?”

  Persephone nodded curtly.

  Aega made a disgusted sound deep in her throat. “Silly man … he wished to sit with the Gods … but could never make it past the sky. Did he not try to abduct Helen once?”

  “Yes, that was he.”

  Aega chuckled then. “Ah, that was an interesting time. It was the talk of the table for many years.”

  “He and his friend, Pirithous, made the journey to the Underworld.” Persephone spat this out quickly.

  “Oh yes … I remember a tale of such exploits. Father almost went to Hades then, he wanted to taunt your husband … felt he was growing weak, allowing mortals into the netherworld.”

  “Theseus is not quite mortal.”

  “Oh?”

  Persephone stiffened. “Poseidon never wished to acknowledge him, but he is of his blood, nonetheless.”

  Aega shrugged. “I had heard that rumor … I never put much stock in it. It matters, of course, little to me who Theseus’ parents were. He has no sway in my existence.”

  “Of course.” Persephone shifted uncomfortably and turned away from Aega. “Theseus stayed with Hades and me for a time. I believe it amused my husband to see his half human antics … and his infatuation with me.”

  Aega said nothing. This was not news to her. All on the mountain knew that Persephone’s beauty and charm drew men—both mortal and immortal—to her. She could have had anyone. In the end The Fates—and two meddlesome Gods—had taken the decision out of her hands. They had given her to the dark lord of the Underworld.

  “It … it was the only time I have ever slipped.” Persephone spun around to face Aega. Her eyes were bright with tears.

  Aega drew back. It was unheard of … Goddess’ tears. Frankly, it was more than a little bit disturbing.

  “Hades was ignoring me … he left for months at a time and left me alone with just the spirits for company. I was lonely … I … I … sought company and comfort.” Persephone’s breath hitched. “I found the comfort I sought in Theseus’ arms.”

  Aega gasped. Now this—this was news to her.

  “The secret could, of course, not be kept from Hades. When he discovered my … lapse … he lost all reason and went quite mad. He tortured poor Pirithous, whose only mistake was accompanying his foolish friend, and he … he … tried to kill Theseus.” Persephone sunk down onto the couch and closed her eyes as if to ward away the memories. “I couldn’t let him. I couldn’t let him kill the father of my child.”

  Aega poured herself another drink. This time she made it a double shot of whiskey.

  “Instead we bargained for his life. Hades allowed Theseus to live but banished him … and his … his … blood was cursed. Hades thought it most fitting. In this, we both suffered—the man who had dared father a child with the God of the Underworld’s wife, and the wife who had faltered and transgressed so horribly.”

  “Cursed?” Aega asked hesitantly.

  Persephone opened her eyes. They were filled with deep sadness. “Yes … all of his line have and will suffer because of my indiscretion. Their blood is tainted, cursed, and they will kn
ow no peace. Because their blood is impure they need new blood to sustain their life, blood to cast away that which is impure, and they will never see the dawn as a man, a true mortal man, can see it. They are half spirit shadows and half glorious God.”

  “Oh, for the love of Zeus.” Aega brought her hand up to her mouth in shock. “You birthed the Vampyre.”

  Persephone dropped her head. “I birthed my son. It was never my intention to cause such misery.”

  Aega crumpled to her knees. Had Persephone told her that she was leaving Hades, she couldn’t have been more surprised. It was shocking.

  All Olympians loved a good story, and rumors and gossip ran rampant in the great halls. But never in her entire immortality had Aega ever heard a whisper of this terror … this utter nightmare that Persephone spoke of now. How had no one known of this?

  “You see.” Persephone rushed forward, fell to her knees and clasped Aega’s hands in hers. “You see why I can trust no one else with this task?”

  Aega shook her head and pulled her hands free. “And you cannot trust me, Persephone. Do you realize who you speak to? I, too, am a Goddess. I could betray you with one glance.”

  “And will you?” Persephone stiffened. “Betray me?”

  Aega was still and silent. Betray Persephone? Could she do it? She did not owe the Queen of the Dead anything, nay, she did not. Indeed, it was her kind that had banished her here to Earth. But … did she, herself, not know what it felt like to be so alone, so utterly lost and cut off from all ties? Could she really cast such a fate onto Persephone? Had the Goddess not borne enough?

  “You will hear me?” Persephone smiled, her face was hopeful. She must have read Aega’s indecision on her face.

  Aega swallowed. She was sure to regret this later. “Aye. I shall hear you.”

  * * * *

  “Ditheous is pack master.” Persephone sat now, like the queen she was, on Aega’s ornate Louis VII chair. “His pack has been growing steadily for several years now. I’ve watched him. He’s a fair leader, hard, unyielding, but fair.”

  “You’re proud of him,” Aega said quietly.

  Persephone inclined her head. “Perhaps. Perhaps I am a little proud of him. He keeps control with a fair but firm hand. He is as I said … a just ruler. And his leadership is not easy, Aega. It comes with much pain and hardship.”