Up to no good, that one is
It is a wonderful thing to know that I am settled in enough to resume writing. Behold the fruits of my labor!
The gaming room was to prove just how woefully unprepared I was for my new duties.
I arrived just as a game- a race by the looks of it- was underway. The enormous, wide chamber resonated with the bellows, groans and whoops of the players, all of whom towered over the winged servants of Hermes flitting about. They navigated the room with extraordinary skill, keeping pace with the requests shouted their way while simultaneously balancing large platters over their heads. I admit to standing there, utterly awestruck. How was I expected to do such things?
A frazzled woman in a stained white gown spied me standing in the doorway, gave an exclamation and rushed to my side so rapidly I thought she would have run me right into the floor.
“Wonderful, wonderful! Praise the gods! Another pair of hands!” she enthused. Before I could think to respond she promptly went behind me and shoved me forward like a the fussiest of governesses.
“Hurry, hurry! Have to get you ready!”
“But I don't know what I am to do,” I protested as she steered me for the back of the room. The floor was well worn around the tables towering over us, slick with spilled drink and seemingly warping right before my very eyes. The gamblers stomped about, heedless of our passage below. The woman anticipated every accident possible, be it an overturned cup, plate or food, and avoided them with great skill.
But when two gamblers suddenly came to blows, and a careless elbow knocked a mug from a table to spill its contents directly upon me, she responded to my mortification with a click of the tongue and smirk.
“Best be swift on your feet here, girl,” she admonished. “Or else you'll find yourself in a lot worse straits than wet garb.”
Standing there, reeking like a drunkard who had slept inside an empty hogshead of wine, I felt like screaming. The same, agonizing pain I had experienced when I longed to cry welled up in me; however, a slight nod was all I could muster.
She ushered me to a small door- described as such for it was built beneath as large a bar as I had ever seen- and gave it a swift kick.
“Today's password,” she explained to my questioning gaze. “It changes every hour on the hour. Remember that.”
“What?” I gasped just as the door swung open. She was in too much of a hurry to answer.
I was led inside, where several other servants had gathered. Some slept in little cubby holes that reminded me of thrush nests, some read, others ate. Not a single one looked in my direction, even though I was dripping wet. A puddle had begun to form at my feet.
The woman went ahead of me, pulled open a cabinet on the wall and withdrew a gown exactly like the one I wore. The only difference was the brown belt at the waist, and the long, looped strap attached to it. Its purpose and function defeated me.
“Change,” she said, thrusting the gown my way.
I hesitated, keenly aware of the crowded room. It made no difference they had ignored me thus far. A memory of Hades casually stripping me of my shift made my cheeks burn with shame.
“Well?” she prompted impatiently.
“I-” I gulped, unable to speak further in light of my embarrassment.
The woman tutted, came forward and had me out of my old dress and into the new one so swiftly I hadn't the opportunity to feel shame.
“You're not too quick, are you?” she remarked testily as I adjusted the belt. “Best learn swiftly unless you want Lord Hermes to trade up.” She peered at my dress closely. “Good fit? Good,” she stated before I could answer. “Listen well, for I will only say this once: the belt keeps your balance so long as you stay aloft. Let it guide you between tables. Don't fight it.”
Her explanations quite baffled me. “I don't understand-”
A man with curly black hair and a full beard burst in suddenly and announced, “Someone threw a stone at Echion and he's started attacking the other patrons!”
This news drew the interest of the others. Ten or so servants flew, quite literally, for the doorway, their ankle wings flapping wildly. The woman heaved an impatient sigh and turned to me.
“The brawl will draw more people, and bets are sure to follow. It can't be helped. We must accommodate them. All right, you,” she said, pointing at me. “Time to show me what you can do. Go see if the new betters are thirsty.”
“But how?” I asked, feeling quite out of my element. Everything they required of me seemed beyond my capability to grasp, let alone do.
“My but you are a useless one!” she complained. A crash sounded from the room, and she began edging for the door. It was clear she was finished with my barrage of questions. “Grab a plate from over there and get outside. Move along!” she snapped before hurrying out. The door swung open from the force of her exit it slammed against the wall so loudly I jumped.
I spent a moment staring at the rush of activity in the other chamber, gathered my courage about me and approached the wall. Large serving plates were stacked there, held in place with struts that reminded of what keeps wagon wheels aligned. I took hold of the nearest one and gave it a sharp tug. It came away so rapidly I released a little yelp of fright as I staggered back to avoid being hit. But as it neared me I saw it suddenly slow, then lift off the ground. It was then I recalled the belt's special ability, and resolved that some invisible force kept it aloft. I grasped its edge and, carefully, made my way to the door. I was on the verge of crossing the threshold when it felt as if someone pushed me upward from below, and soon I was soaring into the air; only the sense that the weight the platter had shifted did I realize I had automatically balanced it overhead.
I cannot fully describe what happened next. Events unfolded as if I were a mere witness and not a participant, similar to how some dreams played out. All I truly recall are the shouted orders sending me to and fro like a ball tossed between children, and my own incompetence.
When the day ended, and I was shown to my quarters the same woman who had met me earlier- I had learned since then she was the mistress of the servants- she just sighed irritably and said, "You'll never go far with skills like that."
Though I knew it to be true, the comment carried a condescending ring to it, not unlike some of the remarks Lady Hampton so often liked to direct my way. My cheeks colored, and the want to retort rose up in me, but she had already gone. Shortly after the other servants retired to their beds, the lights were abruptly extinguished, and I was in the dark. Despite myself and my thoughts, I fell fast asleep.
Some weeks passed. I own to not knowing for certain. Time was not acknowledged in the same fashion I was accustomed to. By this time I had come to terms with the workings of the belt and serving platter, which allowed for a better performance. Truly, Lord Hermes' gaming room was endlessly busy. Games changed as frequently as Lady Hampton's mind over dress patterns, gamblers seemed to appear and disappear at will, and among it all were my fellow indentured souls. Though we were numerous, we never engaged the other outside of our assigned duties. A sense of loneliness descended upon me, and I found my thoughts turning to Vinnie quite often. I had not seen or heard from him since he promised to help me find Thomas. The lack of communication weighed heavily upon me. I was starting to wonder if he had forgotten about me.
And what of Thomas himself? What would I say to him if we ever met again? Would I be so consumed by rage I could not bear to look him in the eye, or would I simply throw myself into his arms, all transgressions forgiven? I admit this line of thought had an element of truth to it. I still loved him too much; I could not conceive of hating him then.
The following day began as all the others had. The gaming room was overflowing with customers participating in racing, fighting or gambling, and the servants were dispatched accordingly. I was waiting to receive an order for Odysseus- he had a tendency to sit as far from the bar as possible, and I did not relish maneuvering my way through the crowd- when Lord Hermes himself walked in. As odd as it was to see my overlord here, for I had not gotten even a glimpse of him since the first day, it seemed to pale in comparison to his companion.
Lord Hermes strode alongside a short, fat man clad in a gown that barely covered his bulk. A wreath of flowers crowned his head, and his face was as red and swollen as a drunkard's. He ambled about the aisles like one, carelessly knocking glasses off tables to send them crashing to the floor. Despite his obvious intoxication, he engaged Lord Hermes in animated conversation.
They approached the bar, still in the midst of their talk, while several servants flocked to their side in anticipation of orders. Since I hovered fairly close to them, I was able to hear bits of their conversation.
"-a fine collection as you will ever see, Hermes," the fat man was saying with a jovial grin. "Surely you can agree on accepting a few caskets for a small price."
Hermes laughed. It was high pitched and through the nose, rather unpleasant to be truthful. "You should know me better than that, Silenus. Prove to me your swill is better than my vintage in a game, and I might consider it."
"A game, eh?" Silenus said, tapping a reddened finger against his chin. "And what would you have in mind?"
I could not hear Lord Hermes' answer, for the barkeep shouted my order was ready for delivery. I took the drink, set it upon my platter and moved away. I gave no more thought to the conversation as I continued my duties. But as preoccupied as I was, I could not deny the room's population swelling at a steady rate. Familiar faces mixed with new ones, men and women in strange garb, until the sight of a winged helmet caught my eye. My astonishment was so great I almost flew into another servant. The stinging rebuke unheard, I redirected my course in a frantic attempt to follow the wearer of that helmet. Unfortunately, the crowds grew in size as I neared the private back rooms. My quarry vanished in the throng, leaving me feeling disappointed yet somewhat hopeful.
That night, the other servants began whispering amongst themselves. It did not pique my curiosity as it should have, for I was still fixated on what I had seen. I believed Hades' vision of the Plains of Ida had been just that, a vision. Yet the sight of that helmet, which I was quite sure belonged to a Valkyrie, proved otherwise. It meant that Valhalla was not denied me, as Hades led me to believe. But how could I go there? Vinnie would know. I contented myself with the hope that I'd see him again soon, and lapsed into sleep.
***
"Catherine! Catherine Caine!"
Startled awake, I sat up in a flourish to find the mistress of the servants staring down at me.
"What is it?" I asked. Fleeting images of Mother and Thomas, remnants of a dream, lingered in my mind.
She pursed her lips. "Ever the uninformed," she chided. She gestured for me to rise. "Up, up already! Mustn't keep him waiting!"
For one wild moment I thought she meant Thomas, or Vinnie. It was enough for me to do as she bade, eager as a trained dog. "Who is waiting for me?"
"No more questions!" she snapped in exasperation. "Just hurry along. You won't need that," she added when I reached for my belt.
A little wary, I followed her lead, keenly aware of other servants watching our passage. When we emerged outside I winced at the brightness of the day. In all the time I had been in the gaming room, I had never once set foot outside. Despite the oddity of its decor, I drank up the sights like a recently released prisoner.
Beyond the gaming hall lay a single pathway winding across a green plain that ended at a vineyard. There I saw an even stranger sight. Men with the legs, tail and horns of a goat chased after slender, ethereal beauties. They played a merry game among the trees, their laughter reminiscent of tinkling bells. Servants seemed completely uninterested in the frolicking goat men and maids, for they were busy harvesting grapes. Others stood within great hollow wooden tubs crushing them.
Among the servants were some I recognized from the gaming room. All were lined up in front of another man- the same as the one who had shown me to Lord Hermes' chambers- and none looked too pleased as he handed off bound scrolls. Just beyond, I glimpsed Lord Hermes reclining on a divan, Silenus beside him. An open casket of wine was arranged beside them, servants at the ready to refill their wine glasses.
"What's this?" I asked, my voice thick. "Where am I going?"
"You belong to Dionysus now," the mistress replied, not bothering to hide her gratitude.
"What? How?"
"Wagered in a bet, I imagine. Now off with you."
"But-" I began, but she had sauntered off so swiftly I was under the impression she was quite glad to be rid of me.
"You! Catherine Caine! Step forward!" the man ordered.
Heavy hearted, I did so, feeling as relevant as a piece of furniture. When I stood before him he extended his hand for mine; as I grasped it I felt a blast of heat upon my palm. The mark of Hermes had been stripped away. What replaced it looked very much like the hallmark of a winemaker. The sense that I was equivalent to goods reduced my quite diminished sense of worth more.
"Your new orders," he went on, thrusting the scroll at me. "You are to report to duty immediately." With a nod to Hermes and Silenus, who responded with languid waves, he strode off. The moment he vanished I had the vaguest sensation of something brushing against my legs. When I lifted my gown I saw the wings had simply fallen off. A wind stirred, taking with it the loose feathers. Sighing, I started down the hill.
Once I joined my fellow indentured souls, I opened the scroll. As before, the foreign lettering reformed into wording I could comprehend: Grape picker. A second phrase appeared beneath the first, but someone was yelling for us to begin working, and I dropped the scroll as I was shoved forward. Truth be told, I was most unwilling to learn this new craft, especially after mastering serving drinks while airborne.
If I never once gave some thought to the poor soul charged with picking the grape that would one day find itself included in my glass of wine, I most certainly did then. Grape harvesting was no simple task. Matters were made even more difficult when Dionysus' wine stewards, who also were in charge of distribution, hounded us hour upon the hour on our progress. Never had I experienced such blatant disregard for dignity. We were objects, expected to work no matter how weary we were. And the dead felt weariness like no other. I could not recall any time in life where I had been so exhausted.
As before, none of the servants conversed outside of assigned duties. How they could maintain such aloof airs was beyond my comprehension. I certainly had a great deal to say, especially considering our living arrangements. Men and women were expected to share the same space in hovels better suited for animals. I was so appalled by this I took to sleeping beneath a tree. The nights were warm, the ground smoother than the mud-packed floors of the huts, and the sounds of chattering insects soothed me.
One night, I was awakened by a footstep. I quickly sat up and glanced about; never had I heard anything other than insects. After a few moments I relaxed, laid back down. I had been on the cusp of sleep when I heard a loud snicker. When I opened my eyes this time I beheld one of the goat men leering down at me, his eyes alight with untamed lust. He smacked his lips and lunged. I threw my arms up to ward him off.
There was the echo of something hard smacking against the back of the goat man's head. His eyes bulged, a line of drool trickled past his lip, he uttered a single groan and collapsed right into my lap. I hopped up as if scalded by fire, infuriated and embarrassed by the contact. A relieved exclamation made me spin on my heel, and all my fury melted away.
Vinnie stood beside the tree, broken broomstick in hand. His eyes raked over my form before he smiled. "Doesn't look like he got far with you. That's good. I'da have to knock even more sense into him."
"What was that thing doing out here?" I asked, hearing the note of hysteria in my voice. At acknowledging it I moved closer to Vinnie.
He lifted a brow. "I was about to ask you the same thing," he commented, shouldering the broom. "Satyrs ain't exactly known for treating ladies with respect."
I stared down at him. "Satyrs?"
For a moment he looked surprised at my question before understanding lit his eyes. "Ah. Ya don't know about them huh? Well, let's just say they really, really like ladies. Willin' or not."
There was a long pause before I grasped his meaning. "Oh!" I gasped in horror. I glanced down at the unconscious satyr, shuddered and gasped once again.
"So they didn't tell ya," Vinnie remarked in sour tones. "Figures. Well, come on then, Cat," he said, striding away from the scene. "Don't want to stick around till more show up. I only got one broom ya know."
His insinuation drew another little gasp from me, and I hurried after him. "Cat?" I said, curious.
Vinnie sent me a sideways smile. "Yeah. Ya know, short for Catherine. I give all my friends nicknames. I thought about calling you Cathy but you look like a Cat."
I said nothing, much too moved to respond. I could feel the want to cry well within me, both from his kindness and swiftness in sparing me from that satyr.
In response Vinnie quickly said, in as casual manner as he could muster: "Well if you don't like it-"
"Oh, no, please, it's not that at all," I hastened to assure him. "It's just that my family always called me Kitty."
He dismissed it with a wave. "Aw, Kitty's a kid's name. You're a Cat," he proclaimed.
I managed a smile for him, which lit his entire face. It gladdened me. "Cat it is."
We continued down the path. Vinnie kept up a steady stream of conversation, about his duties, where he'd been, where he was headed next. Yet he volunteered nothing as to why he was called a No Place, or how one was classified as such. All he revealed of this was its benefit of seeing all the paradises.
"Yeah, some of them are really nice," he said when I asked, "but I really like coming here. The view is always great," he added with a small smile and gesture for the glen ahead.
There I saw a trio of young women, nude bodies limned in moonlight, traipsing among the trees. I could not keep the disappointment from my face or voice as I said, "What are you implying, Vinnie?"
Instantly he bristled. "Hey, I don't touch. Never ever. I ain't like those satyrs. I just like to look. That okay with you?"
His slightly defensive manner caught me off guard. "I'm sorry," I said softly, feeling ashamed for reasons I could not determine. "Of course you can look. I did not mean to cause offense."
"Well, I don't need your approval," he said sourly, and I subsided into silence. After a moment he exhaled. "Sorry. Like I said, I only like to look. Let's keep going. My special place isn't far now."
The path took us to the edge of a lake. Moonlight shone upon the water like sparkling gems, creating quite a sight. I was at once reminded of a moonlit stroll Thomas and I underwent. We had shared our first kiss that night. The memory invoked powerful emotions within me, and I clamped my hand over my mouth to stifle my sob.
It was Vinnie's turn to look alarmed. "You all right?"
I drew in a deep breath. Forced myself to remember it was Thomas who had put me here. "I will be fine. This place brings forth memories. That is all.”
He eyed me for a moment, again making me believe that a man and not a boy was watching me. And, like a gentleman, he chose not to press the matter. Instead he sat down by the edge of the water, palmed a stone. "So," he began, "I bet you were wondering if I forgot about you."
"I was, actually," I confessed, glad of the change of subject. "Were you able to uncover anything of import?"
He tossed the stone into the lake. "It took a little while, and some favors to old lady Agnes-" his expression soured at mention of this woman- "but I found out Thomas is in one of the paradises."
"Which one?" I asked, my jumping at the news.
"That's just it. I don't know."
Almost instantly I felt my hopes dashed. "Then how am I to learn the truth why he did this to me?"
Vinnie met my gaze, and his expression turned compassionate. "Hey, don't worry, Cat. I'll find him for ya. I can bring him here too."
I regarded him in surprise. "You can?"
"Sure. Free souls can go anywhere, just like I can. It's only people-” he caught himself at that, looking pained to have spoken.
It was with sorrow I finished his sentence. “People like me,” I murmured. I thought of the shackles on my wrists and ankles, felt the weight of them bring me down further at this new knowledge. "So he is a free soul. He can come and go as he pleases.” Slowly, I sank to my knees. My chest tightened, as did my throat. The lovely view of the lake and the moon ceased being lovely.
"And I am meant to suffer."
A slight brush against my hand drew my attention. Vinnie watched me in silence, an entire realm's worth of understanding in his eyes. He squeezed my hand, very gently. But then he quite suddenly shot to his feet, startling me.
“Vinnie?”
His eyes were alight with the hope that all young people possess, heightened by a sense of excitement I did not yet share. “Well, we ain't gonna make him talk just by sitting here. Listen up, Cat,” he said, grabbing my hands and drawing me to my feet, a great deal of strength in his grip despite his smaller stature. “You wanna do the best job you've ever done for anything. It's the only way you'll get far in this place. Don't just get good at something- get better. Do that, and they'll keep you. These Greek gods are the worst when it comes to tradin'.”
A glimpse of Dionysus' seal upon my palm confirmed his words, and I nodded slowly. “All right. What will you do?” Worry twisted my heart. “When will I hear from you?”
“Soon as someone decides to answer all my questions. In case ya didn't notice, I'm really good at aggravating people,” he remarked with an irrepressible grin. “Don't want you to think I forgot my promise.”
I smiled faintly. “I cannot express how much this means to me,” I said, squeezing his hands. “Truly, I cannot.”
His cheeks warmed, and he withdrew his hands with an, 'Aw, knock it off,' and a valiant attempt at grown up nonchalance. I laughed softly. The sound was almost foreign to my ears. There had been very little for me to laugh at lately.
“Go on, get outta here,” Vinnie said, shouldering his broomstick again. “And don't sleep outside anymore, all right?”
I smiled again, the feeling more natural this time, and nodded once more. We parted by the lake, my steps sure as I returned to the huts. Already I could feel my spirits lifting from the power of his words. They had been as effective as Mother when she advised me to be strong. And like a Valkyrie, I would rise to answer the call of battle. There was no other alternative.
***
I acted upon Vinnie's advice with great vigor after our meeting. I was as diligent a worker as any of the other indentured souls, starting and completing tasks with swiftness and efficiency. Always I saw my mother's example before me, her tireless efforts to teach, nurse and sew becoming the foundation of my inspiration. I did not think of my marriage at all. The mere thought of it, and Thomas, held enough power to undo all I had built within myself. There was only the battlefield ahead, and the strength I gathered to endure its events.
The wine stewards did not overlook my progress. Within a short time, I had advanced from picker to crusher to bottler, all the way to assistant distributor. Each new status carried with it better living arrangements (a fact that pleased me immensely) as well as the opportunity to learn a little more about what it meant to serve my current lord.
I never saw Dionysus, though we all were considered part of his suite. Common talk had it he frequented the glen of the wood nymphs. When he wasn't roistering or engaged in carnal pleasures he dispatched his orders through Silenus. It was whispered that he had been Dionysus' own tutor, though to be honest I could not imagine him in any schoolroom, no matter how fantastical.
As part of my new role, I often was dispatched to Silenus' home with samples from our most recent batch. While quite noxious to be around, for I never saw him in anything but a stained, foul-smelling gown, and I never could be certain he was fully in control of his senses, still I found him amiable enough.
Silenus, usually reclined on a divan that bowed beneath his weight, nevertheless summoned energy to rise whenever a delivery was scheduled. He was in the midst of draining a small jug of its contents when I was admitted to his chamber. His home was more a storeroom for caskets and hogsheads than true living space. This much was in evidence when he strode toward me, carelessly kicking empty wine bottles aside as he did so.
“Ah!” he greeted through a partial belch, to which I inwardly grimaced. Truly, his manners were abhorrent. “Another fresh batch for me to test, eh? Well, come forth, girl! I've need to wet my poor parched throat.”
I dropped a proper curtsy, then placed the jug upon the table between us. Silenus grasped the neck of the bottle and had the cork plucked free with a well practiced maneuver. When he upended it into his mouth and drank deep, two tiny red rivers trailed from either corner of his mouth.
Once he had finished he let out a sound that was not unlike a groan of pleasure, lowered the jug and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “The best yet!” he proclaimed.
“It pleases me to hear my lord think so,” I said deferentially. It hardly mattered that it had been his oft-spoken declaration.
Silenus did not seem to hear me, not that I expected him to. We both were merely performing the roles expected of us. Which is why, just as he prepared to turn away, he suddenly gazed upon me with renewed interest.
I found the weight of his intense gaze quite uncomfortable. There existed something within his eyes, some knowledge perhaps, that frightened me.
Slowly, he lifted a finger. “You are Catherine Caine,” he murmured, his tone that of a scholar coming upon a great discovery. “Forsaken and forgotten wife of the liar.”
My blank look was no better than an awestruck peasant's. “Sir?”
“Yes,” he was saying, smiling a little and nodding. “The path ahead of you is as twisted as he, and will bring its darkness upon you. Forsaken and forgotten not, but tainted forevermore.”
I could find no words to respond to such strange, unsettling talk. Numerous chills trailed down my spine, and I shivered despite the relative warmth of the room.
And then, as if waking from a dream, Silenus peered at me, smiled broadly and indicated the empty bottle. “A fine brew indeed,” he complimented. “Ah!” he said, glancing past me. “I see my next guest has arrived. Until next time, girl. Farewell!”
I left that room as if I my feet were made of lead. I could not dismiss the haunting remarks, or the look in his eyes. Forsaken and forgotten wife of the liar? What did such things mean?
Shuddering again, I pressed on, setting a swift pace that I hoped would separate me from what I had so recently heard.
***
Try as I might, I could not suppress Silenus' cryptic words. They inspired such bizarre, ill-fated dreams I began to fear falling asleep. Sleep I must, for I could not maintain my status if I should fail. But oh, how dreadful it was to wake up in the night in a cold sweat, every shadow I saw taking on the form of the nameless, faceless horror those words inspired!
Just as I felt I would go mad for being unable to share my feelings, Vinnie returned. It was a balmy afternoon, and he had strolled, quite literally, through a tree as if it were a doorway. The instant I saw him I snatched his hand, drew us from the path and into the brush.
He grew alarmed. “Cat? What's wrong?” He surveyed my person, worry creasing his brow. “Damn! Why are you so cold?”
“Oh, Vinnie, it's awful, simply awful,” I said, and explained everything, from Silenus' words to my dreams. He listened in silence, never once releasing my hands.
“Damn,” he muttered again when I had finished. By then my legs had given way beneath me, and I was seated upon the grass. He stood over me, shadows in his eyes. “If you say it was Silenus, then it's gotta be true.”
I gasped. “What do you mean?”
He looked uncomfortable. “I hear it Silenus can tell the future when he's really drunk. If he spends all his time tasting the wine then I'd say he's always drunk.”
“But he never said a word to me in all this time, not one!” I protested, unable to believe someone could foretell the future. Had it been possible, I would not have been forced to endure all this. I might even still be alive, or at the very least with Mother.
“Maybe he didn't have anythin' to say till then,” Vinnie reasoned, but with little conviction. I heard it and gave a small, despairing groan. He dropped to his haunches and peered at me. His expression was that of a small child's about to eat something he distinctly disliked. “Cat, I got something else to tell you. You...ain't going to like it.”
I could feel my heart seize with terror. “You haven't been able to find Thomas,” I managed.
Again that same look. “Actually, I did,” he said, reluctance to speak evident in every word. He rubbed the back of his neck, bit his lower lip. I waited, my entire body tense. “Aw dammit, I didn't want to have to say it,” he muttered. He lifted his gaze to mine, took a deep breath.
“Cat, Thomas is actually-”
At once there echoed the sound of a horn. Its echo seemed to expand the width and breadth of the sky and ground, a great rumbling cadence with the power of a great thunderstorm. Servants, nymphs, satyrs and forest creatures alike were flushed from the woods, all making a mad dash for the origin of the sound.
I rose to my feet. “What's happening?” I asked
“Sounds like company to me,” Vinnie commented with a grimace. “Might wanna go see what it is.”
I nodded, and we hurried for the path.
A generous crowd had gathered near the entrance for the vineyard. I tried to politely push my way through to the center, but was rudely pushed aside or outright ignored. Vinnie solved this by grabbing hold of his broom, which instantly transformed into a rake, and started pushing it ahead. “Go on, get a move on!” he ordered in annoyed tones, sending all in his path quickly aside. I followed the path he created, my gaze fastened to the happenings ahead.
I spied Silenus standing in front of a table laden with a great number of caskets, but I did not recognize the beautiful youth beside him. Crowned with pale brown, curled hair and bearing oval-shaped green eyes, he had an otherworldly air about him. When he moved or spoke it was with the utmost grace. In one hand he held a staff, the other a beautifully crafted wine glass. Grape stems hung from his headdress and belt. At once I knew I was looking upon Dionysus. Though he leaned in to listen to Silenus, his attention was drawn to the end of the path. The gathering also watched it with interest.
“A great day, my lord, a great day indeed!” Silenus was saying. “No greater honor than this, is there?”
“Of course it is,” replied Hermes, who strolled forward accompanied by six of his winged servants. “Especially considering the games to be played. I hope you plan to wager, Dionysus.”
“Most assuredly,” Dionysus responded, his voice as soft as a woman's but carrying the weight of authority. “The outcome of this particular match will be as fortuitous as it is amusing.”
Silenus let out a hearty laugh. “Ah!” he said, signaling for the path. “And here he comes!”
Everyone, including me, instantly looked to the east. I felt Vinnie press close to me, heard him mutter an oath under his breath. I took one glance at the gilded chariot and the two, large goats hauling it before I felt my knees go weak.
It was Thor himself!
The God of Thunder, largely built and smiling broadly, his red hair bright in the sunshine, let out a great rumbling laugh as he spurred his goats on. Lightning sparked from the wheels, electrifying the ground and casting up plumes of smoke. Two young children, a boy and a girl, stood behind him, solemn where their lord was merry, each laden with bulging satchels.
“The legends are true,” I whispered in awe.
“Huh?” Vinnie said in confused tones. “You know that guy?”
“Yes. My mother told me stories about Thor and the other gods from Asgard. Odin, Heimdall, Balder, Loki...” I trailed off and shook my head, feeling a sense of sorrow settle upon me. “I had always thought I'd go to the Plains of Ida when I died. I never imagined anything like this.”
“So you know them already,” Vinnie commented in thoughtful tones. He appeared as troubled as before, when he was about to tell me of Thomas. “Guess it'll help with the news.”
I turned to him, wide-eyed. “Is it Thomas? Is he in Asgard?” I asked, heart pounding.
Vinnie offered me a wan smile. “Kind of.”
“Oh, Vinnie, out with it! Is he or isn't he?” I demanded, perplexed by his reluctance to give me news he was well aware I craved.
He held his hands up in a pleading gesture. “Okay, okay, don't get so angry,” he griped. He sighed and nodded. “Yeah. He is.”
Excitement coursed through me, and I again looked to Thor's arrival. My thoughts raced. Despite Vinnie's offer to bring Thomas to me, I doubted he would come willingly. I knew then I had to go to Asgard myself. How was another matter.
Upon reaching the gathering Thor drew rein and alighted with surprising grace for one so large. Sunlight glistened upon the surface of Mjolnir, his mighty hammer.
“Well met, good fellows, well met!” Thor boomed. I take oath that I heard an answering roll of thunder in the distance. He gripped Silenus' hand, nodded to Dionysus and Hermes. It was then I discovered he was smaller than the other three, as if he were mortal. “I see you have laid out quite a surplus of drink this day. 'Tis good, for the sun is hot upon me and I am weary with thirst.”
“I trust this weariness does not interfere with your ability to play the game,” Dionysus remarked.
Thor laughed. “Rest assured, I have enough thirst to partake in dozens of games,” he proclaimed. He gestured for the children to come forth. Each withdrew goblets and placed them on the edge of the table before stepping back. Thor clapped his hands together eagerly. “So shall we begin? What be the prize?”
“Twenty caskets of my best brew to the winner,” Dionysus replied with a sweeping, elegant gesture to the wagon nearby. “Provided you can best Silenus.”
“I've as great a thirst as you, Thor,” Silenus boasted. “There is not a man, hero nor god in this realm that can best my capacity for the vine.”
“Then I consider myself fortunate to be of Asgard and not Elysium,” Thor retorted cheerfully. He took up a goblet. “A drink, Master Dionysus! Let us begin!”
Dionysus nodded to a servant, and he approached Thor with a pitcher. After filling Silenus' glass, Dionysus nodded once more. The combatants exchanged smiles and drank. The audience cheered.
For my part, I watched events unfold stock-still and in awe. It was as if all the stories Mother told me of Thor- no, all Asgardians- had been given life before me. True to his word, Thor finished glass after glass, never once breaking stride. Silenus kept at a steady pace, the servants around him hurriedly refilling cups the moment he finished.
Vinnie let out a low whistle. “That guy sure can drink,” he remarked as Thor downed yet another glass. I had lost count by then.
“If this had been a contest of strength he would have won that as well,” I said assuredly.
“Oh, I knew that already. I was here last time. I think Hercules is still sore at him for their last match,” Vinnie commented. I could not keep from smiling.
After many more cups Silenus, wobbling to and fro, his eyes heavy lidded and features flushed, lifted a languid hand, then promptly toppled over. The audience cheered loudly, and Thor, as red faced as Silenus, hoisted his glass overhead with a great roar.
Dionysus spoke softly, calmly. “Congratulations, my friend. The caskets, and the day, are yours.”
“Well played,” Hermes added, reaching out to accept the coin from the servants he sent into the crowd. Many of those who had bet on Silenus were sullen as children as they endured the celebrations of their neighboring victors. “Few games are as amusing to us.”
“I've in mind another game, my good hosts,” Thor said, taking his hammer in hand. “Who here thinks they can best the God of Thunder in an eating contest?”
Dozens of hands shot up from the crowd, many, if not all, belonging to Echion and his fellow Spartoi. Thor rumbled with laughter. “So be it! Strike up a fire! We dine!” he called, then promptly had his goats slain and skinned. He had done it so swiftly and so cleanly, there was hardly a mess to be had.
As the Spartoi settled beside Thor and seized haunches of meat, and a pair of satyrs propped the inebriated Silenus upon as small a donkey as I had ever seen, Dionysus dismissed us to our duties. I expressed reluctance to leave, for I longed to speak to Thor, to see if he knew of Thomas. But the wine stewards were already barking orders at us, and the crowd dispersed.
“Better get moving,” Vinnie advised, eyeing the gods. “Don't want them mad at ya.”
“I can't leave yet,” I said. “I must speak with Thor.” At quick glance at the twenty caskets inspired an idea. “Hurry, Vinnie. Help me load those caskets.”
Vinnie, bless him, grasped my intent and gave acknowledged me with a nod. Together we hauled the caskets to Thor's chariot, where our parcels were taken up by his two servants. The boy I recognized as the one who, according to legend, had eaten the marrow of one of the goat's bones; he refrained from looking at the steadily growing pile of bones on the skins. I, on the other hand, watched the activity with great interest. I had to time my questions just right.
“A fine meal, Thor,” Echion complimented. He cast a reproving look at his fellows, all of whom lolled about holding their bellies and groaning. “But alas, too rich for us. It seems you have won the day again.”
“I do not lose often,” Thor stated through a mouthful of meat. “There are times when I long for a true challenge. It is why I find time to roam the realms.”
“I take it you have not been successful,” Echion observed, and Thor chuckled.
“Elysium has many fine champions. Perhaps I shall take my quest to the summit of Mount Olympus itself.”
“You'd be better suited to challenge a Titan,” Hermes said, lifting his glass in salute. “Now that, would be a game I'd wager on!”
“Here, here!” seconded one of the Spartoi.
“A Titan would be a worthy opponent,” commented a new voice, “for so few in this realm can match the lack of wit displayed before you.”
All present looked to the road, where a tall, somewhat lanky figure leaned against a tree. He wore a hooded cloak, concealing his face from all. Judging from tone alone, he was disgusted by what he saw.
Echion had half risen, hand at his dagger. “Who are you to insult a guest of this realm?” he demanded.
Thor dismissed the newcomer with a careless shrug and resumed eating. “Do not trouble yourself, Echion,” he said. “For who you address has nothing but contempt for arts he has no aptitude for. Isn't that right, Loki?”
After having bore witness to Thor's reality, it seemed only natural to react to Loki as calmly as I did. Yet as I watched him, I could not be rid of the sense that I had seen him before. It was a most curious thought.
Vinnie suddenly grabbed my hand. “Cat, it's him,” he said in a rapid undertone.
I only stared at him in surprise. Had he taken leave of his senses? Thomas couldn't possibly be Loki.
But when Loki stepped away from the tree, swept his hood back with one arrogant gesture and glared at Thor, I felt as if the ground had suddenly given way beneath me.
I knew him. I would know him anywhere.
It wasn't his ugliness that stayed my thoughts- for ugly he was, sallow skinned with deep set eyes, greasy, lanky hair hanging past his shoulders, a long hook nose and a hateful sneer tugging at thin, scarred lips. It was the color of those piercing, sunken eyes; never had I seen such bright, green eyes on a man other than Thomas.
And just like that, I knew it to be true. Past and present merged in that instant, visions of Thomas overlapping Loki with incredible speed, leaving me quite dizzy with revelation and fully aware of the meaning behind Silenus' haunting words. Aware of the treatment I had received from the other inhabitants I had met. Of Hades and Hermes' cryptic commentary.
For who other than a trickster would be capable of such malicious intent?
***
Thomas was not dead. Thomas had been Loki in disguise, all this time. It sounded so preposterous. The ravings of a madman. But it was true. All of it.
All I knew at that moment, all I felt, deserted me. I was adrift on a sea of utter, utter shock. My heart, once fractured at the first I heard of Thomas' betrayal, was now fully torn asunder. Emotions too great for me to define spilled forth from the seam. Daylight dimmed, the ground took charge of my body and I felt myself sinking. I hoped a great hole would swallow me, smother me. Make me forget what I had seen, what I had learned.
Instead I was granted sight of the Plains of Ida in full bloom. Delightful scents floated in the air, enticing as a soothing lullaby to a frightened child. I sprinted across the field, desperate to flee this place.
“Catherine,” whispered Thomas' voice, tender, enticing.
“No!” I shouted, moving away from the shade now approaching me. But it was no use. Thomas now stood in front of me, his expression pained.
“Catherine, why do you flee?” he asked softly, and great sorrow entered his eyes when I shied away from his touch. “Do you not recognize me?”
The pain in those eyes, that voice, the silent entreaty of his proffered hand. My chest and throat tightened, my body trembled. I would have given anything to be able to cry, to run. I was rooted to the spot.
His arm circled my shoulders, and I abruptly pushed him away. “No,” I moaned in anguish. “Leave me be!”
“My dear!” Thomas set his hands upon my shoulders, keeping me still. Try as I might to fight against him, his presence surrounded me, threatened to weaken me further. I felt it happening.
My husband cupped my face in his hands, pressed the gentlest of kisses upon my brow. I whimpered his name, my defenses nearly gone. Instinct had me grab at his waist. I could feel myself leaning toward him. Yearning for the comfort I once found in his arms.
Thomas murmured softly to me, his hands caressing upon my shoulders, the warmth of his breath fanning my cheeks. I lifted my face to his, and was mesmerized by his beautiful green eyes.
“Oh, Thomas...” Despair thickened my voice. “How could you do this to me?”
“I would never seek harm upon you, my darling.” He kissed my forehead, my cheeks. “Dearest Catherine, my Kitten. Banish these fears that hold you in thrall. I am here.”
The endearment tore away the last of my defenses. I whispered his name, closed my eyes in anticipation of his kiss. His mouth brushed against mine, his hand slid up my neck, fingers entwining in my hair. I parted my lips for him, silently begging he reclaim me.
And the gentle hand at my neck turned painful, the fingers clenched around a hank of hair. When I opened my eyes I screamed, for Loki leered at me, a terrible grin upon his face.
“Dearest Catherine,” he said in raspy, mocking tones. He coiled an arm around my waist, forced me against him. I struggled to break free, but his grip was that of iron. The weight of my invisible shackles seemed that much heavier.
Loki seized me by the chin, crushed it in his hand. A peculiar glow shone in his eyes, eyes that now were as yellowed as a diseased man's, but still possessed of the green I knew so well. His tongue snaked past his lips, animal-like. “Have no fear,” he hissed, and I whimpered. “For your beloved Loki is here.”
My cry of denial was lost to his rough kiss. I felt his teeth sink into my lips, tasted my own blood. Darkness rose up, drowning all light and sound. And through it all, his lips burrowed deeper into mine. I knew then he would kiss me right to the bone and not cease until he reached my very soul...
***
“Hey! Hey, Cat! Wake up!”
The voice echoed as if from a great distance. I feared it was Loki reaching out to bring me back into the darkness, but when I heard my name again, and recognized the distinct accented voice, I fought my way back to the light, desperate as a drowning woman. When at last I breached the surface I let out a loud, ragged gasp. Blackness became a blurred palette of green, white and blue. The sense that I was not alone forced me upright. My vision spotted, and a dizzying sense of nausea threatened to bring me back into darkness, so abrupt was my movement.
“Get away from me!” I shouted, plaintive and hysterical. A hand seized mine. Startled, I tried to pull away.
“Hey, it's all right, it's just me! Vinnie!”
I froze. The nightmarish shade holding me instantly transformed. Relief flooded my entire being at seeing Vinnie. “It's you...”
“Yeah, who else would it be?” he remarked archly. But just as swiftly his sarcasm became concern. “Damn, you scared the hell out of me. You all right? Looked like ya were having a bad dream.”
I covered my face with my hands. I could still feel the pressure of Loki's mouth on mine, the blood in my mouth. “It was,” I choked out.
I sensed Vinnie settle beside me, felt his arm go around my shoulder. Ashamed to having my distress witnessed, I leaned against him, willing such horrid visions to fade.
“It's okay. You'll be all right,” he consoled, as awkward as the shyest of school boys. “He's gone.”
I lifted my head. “Where did he go?” I asked in tremulous tones.
“Don't know. Dionysus asked him if he'd like to stay but he just sneered and left.”
“Did...did he see me?” My voice was no more than a whisper.
“Nah,” Vinnie replied. “It's probably 'cause you just dropped as soon as he pulled his hood off. We're lucky the gods around here don't pay too much attention to people like us. Draggin' you here wasn't easy. Those chains ya got on make you a lot a heavier than you look.”
I gazed down at my wrists. The weight of those chains had never felt heavier than that instant. It brought me down lower. “It's because of him I am forced to wear these,” I sighed, drawing away from Vinnie. I felt his eyes on me. I shook my head, slowly. “I cannot believe Thomas was Loki, all this time...”
“Yeah,” Vinnie grunted. “I've heard plenty bad stories about him. Always getting into trouble. Probably why he got himself thrown out of this place.”
I turned a curious gaze on him. “He was ejected from Asgard?”
“Asgard, hell, all the paradises,” Vinnie explained. “Hadn't seen or heard of him much lately, and believe me, I hear a lot. Old lady Agnes, she told me Loki had just gotten back.”
Slowly, so slowly, my mind grasped the integral part of this tale I had inadvertently found myself a part of. “He had been banished to the mortal world.”
“Yep. Got Odin so mad he made a deal with the other big bosses to keep Loki out until he had redeemed himself.”
“Redeem?” I echoed tersely. “And how would he have accomplished that?”
Vinnie's expression became uneasy. “By doin' what he did to you.”
The simple, startling truth of those words hung in the air between us. Once more my gaze lowered, as if I would somehow uncover some revelation from the ground. Instead I focused on the ring on my finger. It was of the finest quality, the most beautiful piece of jewelry I had ever owned. And I felt something break apart within- my heart, my mind, my soul.
At once I saw not a token of love, a promise, but a chain as heavy, as unyielding, as unwanted, as my shackles of servitude. Fury consumed me, and with a sharp, angered cry, had the ring wrenched from my finger. Vinnie, no doubt stricken by the violence of my gesture, kept his peace as I took up a nearby rock and began striking the ring. Angry exclamations, barely coherent and edged with wrath, tumbled past my lips until at last the diamond shattered, and I took up the twisted, beaten circle and threw it for the nearest bush. Panting, trembling from head to foot, I covered my face and screamed.
Only after the last echo of that soul-wrenching cry faded into the distance did I look over at Vinnie. I identified shock in his eyes, as if he were suddenly looking upon a stranger.
“I will not let this transgression go,” I vowed. Part of me could barely recognize it was my own voice, as ragged and deep as it was. “I swear on my dear child and mother's very souls that I will discover the reasons behind this deception. Loki will answer for this!”
The gaming room was to prove just how woefully unprepared I was for my new duties.
I arrived just as a game- a race by the looks of it- was underway. The enormous, wide chamber resonated with the bellows, groans and whoops of the players, all of whom towered over the winged servants of Hermes flitting about. They navigated the room with extraordinary skill, keeping pace with the requests shouted their way while simultaneously balancing large platters over their heads. I admit to standing there, utterly awestruck. How was I expected to do such things?
A frazzled woman in a stained white gown spied me standing in the doorway, gave an exclamation and rushed to my side so rapidly I thought she would have run me right into the floor.
“Wonderful, wonderful! Praise the gods! Another pair of hands!” she enthused. Before I could think to respond she promptly went behind me and shoved me forward like a the fussiest of governesses.
“Hurry, hurry! Have to get you ready!”
“But I don't know what I am to do,” I protested as she steered me for the back of the room. The floor was well worn around the tables towering over us, slick with spilled drink and seemingly warping right before my very eyes. The gamblers stomped about, heedless of our passage below. The woman anticipated every accident possible, be it an overturned cup, plate or food, and avoided them with great skill.
But when two gamblers suddenly came to blows, and a careless elbow knocked a mug from a table to spill its contents directly upon me, she responded to my mortification with a click of the tongue and smirk.
“Best be swift on your feet here, girl,” she admonished. “Or else you'll find yourself in a lot worse straits than wet garb.”
Standing there, reeking like a drunkard who had slept inside an empty hogshead of wine, I felt like screaming. The same, agonizing pain I had experienced when I longed to cry welled up in me; however, a slight nod was all I could muster.
She ushered me to a small door- described as such for it was built beneath as large a bar as I had ever seen- and gave it a swift kick.
“Today's password,” she explained to my questioning gaze. “It changes every hour on the hour. Remember that.”
“What?” I gasped just as the door swung open. She was in too much of a hurry to answer.
I was led inside, where several other servants had gathered. Some slept in little cubby holes that reminded me of thrush nests, some read, others ate. Not a single one looked in my direction, even though I was dripping wet. A puddle had begun to form at my feet.
The woman went ahead of me, pulled open a cabinet on the wall and withdrew a gown exactly like the one I wore. The only difference was the brown belt at the waist, and the long, looped strap attached to it. Its purpose and function defeated me.
“Change,” she said, thrusting the gown my way.
I hesitated, keenly aware of the crowded room. It made no difference they had ignored me thus far. A memory of Hades casually stripping me of my shift made my cheeks burn with shame.
“Well?” she prompted impatiently.
“I-” I gulped, unable to speak further in light of my embarrassment.
The woman tutted, came forward and had me out of my old dress and into the new one so swiftly I hadn't the opportunity to feel shame.
“You're not too quick, are you?” she remarked testily as I adjusted the belt. “Best learn swiftly unless you want Lord Hermes to trade up.” She peered at my dress closely. “Good fit? Good,” she stated before I could answer. “Listen well, for I will only say this once: the belt keeps your balance so long as you stay aloft. Let it guide you between tables. Don't fight it.”
Her explanations quite baffled me. “I don't understand-”
A man with curly black hair and a full beard burst in suddenly and announced, “Someone threw a stone at Echion and he's started attacking the other patrons!”
This news drew the interest of the others. Ten or so servants flew, quite literally, for the doorway, their ankle wings flapping wildly. The woman heaved an impatient sigh and turned to me.
“The brawl will draw more people, and bets are sure to follow. It can't be helped. We must accommodate them. All right, you,” she said, pointing at me. “Time to show me what you can do. Go see if the new betters are thirsty.”
“But how?” I asked, feeling quite out of my element. Everything they required of me seemed beyond my capability to grasp, let alone do.
“My but you are a useless one!” she complained. A crash sounded from the room, and she began edging for the door. It was clear she was finished with my barrage of questions. “Grab a plate from over there and get outside. Move along!” she snapped before hurrying out. The door swung open from the force of her exit it slammed against the wall so loudly I jumped.
I spent a moment staring at the rush of activity in the other chamber, gathered my courage about me and approached the wall. Large serving plates were stacked there, held in place with struts that reminded of what keeps wagon wheels aligned. I took hold of the nearest one and gave it a sharp tug. It came away so rapidly I released a little yelp of fright as I staggered back to avoid being hit. But as it neared me I saw it suddenly slow, then lift off the ground. It was then I recalled the belt's special ability, and resolved that some invisible force kept it aloft. I grasped its edge and, carefully, made my way to the door. I was on the verge of crossing the threshold when it felt as if someone pushed me upward from below, and soon I was soaring into the air; only the sense that the weight the platter had shifted did I realize I had automatically balanced it overhead.
I cannot fully describe what happened next. Events unfolded as if I were a mere witness and not a participant, similar to how some dreams played out. All I truly recall are the shouted orders sending me to and fro like a ball tossed between children, and my own incompetence.
When the day ended, and I was shown to my quarters the same woman who had met me earlier- I had learned since then she was the mistress of the servants- she just sighed irritably and said, "You'll never go far with skills like that."
Though I knew it to be true, the comment carried a condescending ring to it, not unlike some of the remarks Lady Hampton so often liked to direct my way. My cheeks colored, and the want to retort rose up in me, but she had already gone. Shortly after the other servants retired to their beds, the lights were abruptly extinguished, and I was in the dark. Despite myself and my thoughts, I fell fast asleep.
Some weeks passed. I own to not knowing for certain. Time was not acknowledged in the same fashion I was accustomed to. By this time I had come to terms with the workings of the belt and serving platter, which allowed for a better performance. Truly, Lord Hermes' gaming room was endlessly busy. Games changed as frequently as Lady Hampton's mind over dress patterns, gamblers seemed to appear and disappear at will, and among it all were my fellow indentured souls. Though we were numerous, we never engaged the other outside of our assigned duties. A sense of loneliness descended upon me, and I found my thoughts turning to Vinnie quite often. I had not seen or heard from him since he promised to help me find Thomas. The lack of communication weighed heavily upon me. I was starting to wonder if he had forgotten about me.
And what of Thomas himself? What would I say to him if we ever met again? Would I be so consumed by rage I could not bear to look him in the eye, or would I simply throw myself into his arms, all transgressions forgiven? I admit this line of thought had an element of truth to it. I still loved him too much; I could not conceive of hating him then.
The following day began as all the others had. The gaming room was overflowing with customers participating in racing, fighting or gambling, and the servants were dispatched accordingly. I was waiting to receive an order for Odysseus- he had a tendency to sit as far from the bar as possible, and I did not relish maneuvering my way through the crowd- when Lord Hermes himself walked in. As odd as it was to see my overlord here, for I had not gotten even a glimpse of him since the first day, it seemed to pale in comparison to his companion.
Lord Hermes strode alongside a short, fat man clad in a gown that barely covered his bulk. A wreath of flowers crowned his head, and his face was as red and swollen as a drunkard's. He ambled about the aisles like one, carelessly knocking glasses off tables to send them crashing to the floor. Despite his obvious intoxication, he engaged Lord Hermes in animated conversation.
They approached the bar, still in the midst of their talk, while several servants flocked to their side in anticipation of orders. Since I hovered fairly close to them, I was able to hear bits of their conversation.
"-a fine collection as you will ever see, Hermes," the fat man was saying with a jovial grin. "Surely you can agree on accepting a few caskets for a small price."
Hermes laughed. It was high pitched and through the nose, rather unpleasant to be truthful. "You should know me better than that, Silenus. Prove to me your swill is better than my vintage in a game, and I might consider it."
"A game, eh?" Silenus said, tapping a reddened finger against his chin. "And what would you have in mind?"
I could not hear Lord Hermes' answer, for the barkeep shouted my order was ready for delivery. I took the drink, set it upon my platter and moved away. I gave no more thought to the conversation as I continued my duties. But as preoccupied as I was, I could not deny the room's population swelling at a steady rate. Familiar faces mixed with new ones, men and women in strange garb, until the sight of a winged helmet caught my eye. My astonishment was so great I almost flew into another servant. The stinging rebuke unheard, I redirected my course in a frantic attempt to follow the wearer of that helmet. Unfortunately, the crowds grew in size as I neared the private back rooms. My quarry vanished in the throng, leaving me feeling disappointed yet somewhat hopeful.
That night, the other servants began whispering amongst themselves. It did not pique my curiosity as it should have, for I was still fixated on what I had seen. I believed Hades' vision of the Plains of Ida had been just that, a vision. Yet the sight of that helmet, which I was quite sure belonged to a Valkyrie, proved otherwise. It meant that Valhalla was not denied me, as Hades led me to believe. But how could I go there? Vinnie would know. I contented myself with the hope that I'd see him again soon, and lapsed into sleep.
***
"Catherine! Catherine Caine!"
Startled awake, I sat up in a flourish to find the mistress of the servants staring down at me.
"What is it?" I asked. Fleeting images of Mother and Thomas, remnants of a dream, lingered in my mind.
She pursed her lips. "Ever the uninformed," she chided. She gestured for me to rise. "Up, up already! Mustn't keep him waiting!"
For one wild moment I thought she meant Thomas, or Vinnie. It was enough for me to do as she bade, eager as a trained dog. "Who is waiting for me?"
"No more questions!" she snapped in exasperation. "Just hurry along. You won't need that," she added when I reached for my belt.
A little wary, I followed her lead, keenly aware of other servants watching our passage. When we emerged outside I winced at the brightness of the day. In all the time I had been in the gaming room, I had never once set foot outside. Despite the oddity of its decor, I drank up the sights like a recently released prisoner.
Beyond the gaming hall lay a single pathway winding across a green plain that ended at a vineyard. There I saw an even stranger sight. Men with the legs, tail and horns of a goat chased after slender, ethereal beauties. They played a merry game among the trees, their laughter reminiscent of tinkling bells. Servants seemed completely uninterested in the frolicking goat men and maids, for they were busy harvesting grapes. Others stood within great hollow wooden tubs crushing them.
Among the servants were some I recognized from the gaming room. All were lined up in front of another man- the same as the one who had shown me to Lord Hermes' chambers- and none looked too pleased as he handed off bound scrolls. Just beyond, I glimpsed Lord Hermes reclining on a divan, Silenus beside him. An open casket of wine was arranged beside them, servants at the ready to refill their wine glasses.
"What's this?" I asked, my voice thick. "Where am I going?"
"You belong to Dionysus now," the mistress replied, not bothering to hide her gratitude.
"What? How?"
"Wagered in a bet, I imagine. Now off with you."
"But-" I began, but she had sauntered off so swiftly I was under the impression she was quite glad to be rid of me.
"You! Catherine Caine! Step forward!" the man ordered.
Heavy hearted, I did so, feeling as relevant as a piece of furniture. When I stood before him he extended his hand for mine; as I grasped it I felt a blast of heat upon my palm. The mark of Hermes had been stripped away. What replaced it looked very much like the hallmark of a winemaker. The sense that I was equivalent to goods reduced my quite diminished sense of worth more.
"Your new orders," he went on, thrusting the scroll at me. "You are to report to duty immediately." With a nod to Hermes and Silenus, who responded with languid waves, he strode off. The moment he vanished I had the vaguest sensation of something brushing against my legs. When I lifted my gown I saw the wings had simply fallen off. A wind stirred, taking with it the loose feathers. Sighing, I started down the hill.
Once I joined my fellow indentured souls, I opened the scroll. As before, the foreign lettering reformed into wording I could comprehend: Grape picker. A second phrase appeared beneath the first, but someone was yelling for us to begin working, and I dropped the scroll as I was shoved forward. Truth be told, I was most unwilling to learn this new craft, especially after mastering serving drinks while airborne.
If I never once gave some thought to the poor soul charged with picking the grape that would one day find itself included in my glass of wine, I most certainly did then. Grape harvesting was no simple task. Matters were made even more difficult when Dionysus' wine stewards, who also were in charge of distribution, hounded us hour upon the hour on our progress. Never had I experienced such blatant disregard for dignity. We were objects, expected to work no matter how weary we were. And the dead felt weariness like no other. I could not recall any time in life where I had been so exhausted.
As before, none of the servants conversed outside of assigned duties. How they could maintain such aloof airs was beyond my comprehension. I certainly had a great deal to say, especially considering our living arrangements. Men and women were expected to share the same space in hovels better suited for animals. I was so appalled by this I took to sleeping beneath a tree. The nights were warm, the ground smoother than the mud-packed floors of the huts, and the sounds of chattering insects soothed me.
One night, I was awakened by a footstep. I quickly sat up and glanced about; never had I heard anything other than insects. After a few moments I relaxed, laid back down. I had been on the cusp of sleep when I heard a loud snicker. When I opened my eyes this time I beheld one of the goat men leering down at me, his eyes alight with untamed lust. He smacked his lips and lunged. I threw my arms up to ward him off.
There was the echo of something hard smacking against the back of the goat man's head. His eyes bulged, a line of drool trickled past his lip, he uttered a single groan and collapsed right into my lap. I hopped up as if scalded by fire, infuriated and embarrassed by the contact. A relieved exclamation made me spin on my heel, and all my fury melted away.
Vinnie stood beside the tree, broken broomstick in hand. His eyes raked over my form before he smiled. "Doesn't look like he got far with you. That's good. I'da have to knock even more sense into him."
"What was that thing doing out here?" I asked, hearing the note of hysteria in my voice. At acknowledging it I moved closer to Vinnie.
He lifted a brow. "I was about to ask you the same thing," he commented, shouldering the broom. "Satyrs ain't exactly known for treating ladies with respect."
I stared down at him. "Satyrs?"
For a moment he looked surprised at my question before understanding lit his eyes. "Ah. Ya don't know about them huh? Well, let's just say they really, really like ladies. Willin' or not."
There was a long pause before I grasped his meaning. "Oh!" I gasped in horror. I glanced down at the unconscious satyr, shuddered and gasped once again.
"So they didn't tell ya," Vinnie remarked in sour tones. "Figures. Well, come on then, Cat," he said, striding away from the scene. "Don't want to stick around till more show up. I only got one broom ya know."
His insinuation drew another little gasp from me, and I hurried after him. "Cat?" I said, curious.
Vinnie sent me a sideways smile. "Yeah. Ya know, short for Catherine. I give all my friends nicknames. I thought about calling you Cathy but you look like a Cat."
I said nothing, much too moved to respond. I could feel the want to cry well within me, both from his kindness and swiftness in sparing me from that satyr.
In response Vinnie quickly said, in as casual manner as he could muster: "Well if you don't like it-"
"Oh, no, please, it's not that at all," I hastened to assure him. "It's just that my family always called me Kitty."
He dismissed it with a wave. "Aw, Kitty's a kid's name. You're a Cat," he proclaimed.
I managed a smile for him, which lit his entire face. It gladdened me. "Cat it is."
We continued down the path. Vinnie kept up a steady stream of conversation, about his duties, where he'd been, where he was headed next. Yet he volunteered nothing as to why he was called a No Place, or how one was classified as such. All he revealed of this was its benefit of seeing all the paradises.
"Yeah, some of them are really nice," he said when I asked, "but I really like coming here. The view is always great," he added with a small smile and gesture for the glen ahead.
There I saw a trio of young women, nude bodies limned in moonlight, traipsing among the trees. I could not keep the disappointment from my face or voice as I said, "What are you implying, Vinnie?"
Instantly he bristled. "Hey, I don't touch. Never ever. I ain't like those satyrs. I just like to look. That okay with you?"
His slightly defensive manner caught me off guard. "I'm sorry," I said softly, feeling ashamed for reasons I could not determine. "Of course you can look. I did not mean to cause offense."
"Well, I don't need your approval," he said sourly, and I subsided into silence. After a moment he exhaled. "Sorry. Like I said, I only like to look. Let's keep going. My special place isn't far now."
The path took us to the edge of a lake. Moonlight shone upon the water like sparkling gems, creating quite a sight. I was at once reminded of a moonlit stroll Thomas and I underwent. We had shared our first kiss that night. The memory invoked powerful emotions within me, and I clamped my hand over my mouth to stifle my sob.
It was Vinnie's turn to look alarmed. "You all right?"
I drew in a deep breath. Forced myself to remember it was Thomas who had put me here. "I will be fine. This place brings forth memories. That is all.”
He eyed me for a moment, again making me believe that a man and not a boy was watching me. And, like a gentleman, he chose not to press the matter. Instead he sat down by the edge of the water, palmed a stone. "So," he began, "I bet you were wondering if I forgot about you."
"I was, actually," I confessed, glad of the change of subject. "Were you able to uncover anything of import?"
He tossed the stone into the lake. "It took a little while, and some favors to old lady Agnes-" his expression soured at mention of this woman- "but I found out Thomas is in one of the paradises."
"Which one?" I asked, my jumping at the news.
"That's just it. I don't know."
Almost instantly I felt my hopes dashed. "Then how am I to learn the truth why he did this to me?"
Vinnie met my gaze, and his expression turned compassionate. "Hey, don't worry, Cat. I'll find him for ya. I can bring him here too."
I regarded him in surprise. "You can?"
"Sure. Free souls can go anywhere, just like I can. It's only people-” he caught himself at that, looking pained to have spoken.
It was with sorrow I finished his sentence. “People like me,” I murmured. I thought of the shackles on my wrists and ankles, felt the weight of them bring me down further at this new knowledge. "So he is a free soul. He can come and go as he pleases.” Slowly, I sank to my knees. My chest tightened, as did my throat. The lovely view of the lake and the moon ceased being lovely.
"And I am meant to suffer."
A slight brush against my hand drew my attention. Vinnie watched me in silence, an entire realm's worth of understanding in his eyes. He squeezed my hand, very gently. But then he quite suddenly shot to his feet, startling me.
“Vinnie?”
His eyes were alight with the hope that all young people possess, heightened by a sense of excitement I did not yet share. “Well, we ain't gonna make him talk just by sitting here. Listen up, Cat,” he said, grabbing my hands and drawing me to my feet, a great deal of strength in his grip despite his smaller stature. “You wanna do the best job you've ever done for anything. It's the only way you'll get far in this place. Don't just get good at something- get better. Do that, and they'll keep you. These Greek gods are the worst when it comes to tradin'.”
A glimpse of Dionysus' seal upon my palm confirmed his words, and I nodded slowly. “All right. What will you do?” Worry twisted my heart. “When will I hear from you?”
“Soon as someone decides to answer all my questions. In case ya didn't notice, I'm really good at aggravating people,” he remarked with an irrepressible grin. “Don't want you to think I forgot my promise.”
I smiled faintly. “I cannot express how much this means to me,” I said, squeezing his hands. “Truly, I cannot.”
His cheeks warmed, and he withdrew his hands with an, 'Aw, knock it off,' and a valiant attempt at grown up nonchalance. I laughed softly. The sound was almost foreign to my ears. There had been very little for me to laugh at lately.
“Go on, get outta here,” Vinnie said, shouldering his broomstick again. “And don't sleep outside anymore, all right?”
I smiled again, the feeling more natural this time, and nodded once more. We parted by the lake, my steps sure as I returned to the huts. Already I could feel my spirits lifting from the power of his words. They had been as effective as Mother when she advised me to be strong. And like a Valkyrie, I would rise to answer the call of battle. There was no other alternative.
***
I acted upon Vinnie's advice with great vigor after our meeting. I was as diligent a worker as any of the other indentured souls, starting and completing tasks with swiftness and efficiency. Always I saw my mother's example before me, her tireless efforts to teach, nurse and sew becoming the foundation of my inspiration. I did not think of my marriage at all. The mere thought of it, and Thomas, held enough power to undo all I had built within myself. There was only the battlefield ahead, and the strength I gathered to endure its events.
The wine stewards did not overlook my progress. Within a short time, I had advanced from picker to crusher to bottler, all the way to assistant distributor. Each new status carried with it better living arrangements (a fact that pleased me immensely) as well as the opportunity to learn a little more about what it meant to serve my current lord.
I never saw Dionysus, though we all were considered part of his suite. Common talk had it he frequented the glen of the wood nymphs. When he wasn't roistering or engaged in carnal pleasures he dispatched his orders through Silenus. It was whispered that he had been Dionysus' own tutor, though to be honest I could not imagine him in any schoolroom, no matter how fantastical.
As part of my new role, I often was dispatched to Silenus' home with samples from our most recent batch. While quite noxious to be around, for I never saw him in anything but a stained, foul-smelling gown, and I never could be certain he was fully in control of his senses, still I found him amiable enough.
Silenus, usually reclined on a divan that bowed beneath his weight, nevertheless summoned energy to rise whenever a delivery was scheduled. He was in the midst of draining a small jug of its contents when I was admitted to his chamber. His home was more a storeroom for caskets and hogsheads than true living space. This much was in evidence when he strode toward me, carelessly kicking empty wine bottles aside as he did so.
“Ah!” he greeted through a partial belch, to which I inwardly grimaced. Truly, his manners were abhorrent. “Another fresh batch for me to test, eh? Well, come forth, girl! I've need to wet my poor parched throat.”
I dropped a proper curtsy, then placed the jug upon the table between us. Silenus grasped the neck of the bottle and had the cork plucked free with a well practiced maneuver. When he upended it into his mouth and drank deep, two tiny red rivers trailed from either corner of his mouth.
Once he had finished he let out a sound that was not unlike a groan of pleasure, lowered the jug and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “The best yet!” he proclaimed.
“It pleases me to hear my lord think so,” I said deferentially. It hardly mattered that it had been his oft-spoken declaration.
Silenus did not seem to hear me, not that I expected him to. We both were merely performing the roles expected of us. Which is why, just as he prepared to turn away, he suddenly gazed upon me with renewed interest.
I found the weight of his intense gaze quite uncomfortable. There existed something within his eyes, some knowledge perhaps, that frightened me.
Slowly, he lifted a finger. “You are Catherine Caine,” he murmured, his tone that of a scholar coming upon a great discovery. “Forsaken and forgotten wife of the liar.”
My blank look was no better than an awestruck peasant's. “Sir?”
“Yes,” he was saying, smiling a little and nodding. “The path ahead of you is as twisted as he, and will bring its darkness upon you. Forsaken and forgotten not, but tainted forevermore.”
I could find no words to respond to such strange, unsettling talk. Numerous chills trailed down my spine, and I shivered despite the relative warmth of the room.
And then, as if waking from a dream, Silenus peered at me, smiled broadly and indicated the empty bottle. “A fine brew indeed,” he complimented. “Ah!” he said, glancing past me. “I see my next guest has arrived. Until next time, girl. Farewell!”
I left that room as if I my feet were made of lead. I could not dismiss the haunting remarks, or the look in his eyes. Forsaken and forgotten wife of the liar? What did such things mean?
Shuddering again, I pressed on, setting a swift pace that I hoped would separate me from what I had so recently heard.
***
Try as I might, I could not suppress Silenus' cryptic words. They inspired such bizarre, ill-fated dreams I began to fear falling asleep. Sleep I must, for I could not maintain my status if I should fail. But oh, how dreadful it was to wake up in the night in a cold sweat, every shadow I saw taking on the form of the nameless, faceless horror those words inspired!
Just as I felt I would go mad for being unable to share my feelings, Vinnie returned. It was a balmy afternoon, and he had strolled, quite literally, through a tree as if it were a doorway. The instant I saw him I snatched his hand, drew us from the path and into the brush.
He grew alarmed. “Cat? What's wrong?” He surveyed my person, worry creasing his brow. “Damn! Why are you so cold?”
“Oh, Vinnie, it's awful, simply awful,” I said, and explained everything, from Silenus' words to my dreams. He listened in silence, never once releasing my hands.
“Damn,” he muttered again when I had finished. By then my legs had given way beneath me, and I was seated upon the grass. He stood over me, shadows in his eyes. “If you say it was Silenus, then it's gotta be true.”
I gasped. “What do you mean?”
He looked uncomfortable. “I hear it Silenus can tell the future when he's really drunk. If he spends all his time tasting the wine then I'd say he's always drunk.”
“But he never said a word to me in all this time, not one!” I protested, unable to believe someone could foretell the future. Had it been possible, I would not have been forced to endure all this. I might even still be alive, or at the very least with Mother.
“Maybe he didn't have anythin' to say till then,” Vinnie reasoned, but with little conviction. I heard it and gave a small, despairing groan. He dropped to his haunches and peered at me. His expression was that of a small child's about to eat something he distinctly disliked. “Cat, I got something else to tell you. You...ain't going to like it.”
I could feel my heart seize with terror. “You haven't been able to find Thomas,” I managed.
Again that same look. “Actually, I did,” he said, reluctance to speak evident in every word. He rubbed the back of his neck, bit his lower lip. I waited, my entire body tense. “Aw dammit, I didn't want to have to say it,” he muttered. He lifted his gaze to mine, took a deep breath.
“Cat, Thomas is actually-”
At once there echoed the sound of a horn. Its echo seemed to expand the width and breadth of the sky and ground, a great rumbling cadence with the power of a great thunderstorm. Servants, nymphs, satyrs and forest creatures alike were flushed from the woods, all making a mad dash for the origin of the sound.
I rose to my feet. “What's happening?” I asked
“Sounds like company to me,” Vinnie commented with a grimace. “Might wanna go see what it is.”
I nodded, and we hurried for the path.
A generous crowd had gathered near the entrance for the vineyard. I tried to politely push my way through to the center, but was rudely pushed aside or outright ignored. Vinnie solved this by grabbing hold of his broom, which instantly transformed into a rake, and started pushing it ahead. “Go on, get a move on!” he ordered in annoyed tones, sending all in his path quickly aside. I followed the path he created, my gaze fastened to the happenings ahead.
I spied Silenus standing in front of a table laden with a great number of caskets, but I did not recognize the beautiful youth beside him. Crowned with pale brown, curled hair and bearing oval-shaped green eyes, he had an otherworldly air about him. When he moved or spoke it was with the utmost grace. In one hand he held a staff, the other a beautifully crafted wine glass. Grape stems hung from his headdress and belt. At once I knew I was looking upon Dionysus. Though he leaned in to listen to Silenus, his attention was drawn to the end of the path. The gathering also watched it with interest.
“A great day, my lord, a great day indeed!” Silenus was saying. “No greater honor than this, is there?”
“Of course it is,” replied Hermes, who strolled forward accompanied by six of his winged servants. “Especially considering the games to be played. I hope you plan to wager, Dionysus.”
“Most assuredly,” Dionysus responded, his voice as soft as a woman's but carrying the weight of authority. “The outcome of this particular match will be as fortuitous as it is amusing.”
Silenus let out a hearty laugh. “Ah!” he said, signaling for the path. “And here he comes!”
Everyone, including me, instantly looked to the east. I felt Vinnie press close to me, heard him mutter an oath under his breath. I took one glance at the gilded chariot and the two, large goats hauling it before I felt my knees go weak.
It was Thor himself!
The God of Thunder, largely built and smiling broadly, his red hair bright in the sunshine, let out a great rumbling laugh as he spurred his goats on. Lightning sparked from the wheels, electrifying the ground and casting up plumes of smoke. Two young children, a boy and a girl, stood behind him, solemn where their lord was merry, each laden with bulging satchels.
“The legends are true,” I whispered in awe.
“Huh?” Vinnie said in confused tones. “You know that guy?”
“Yes. My mother told me stories about Thor and the other gods from Asgard. Odin, Heimdall, Balder, Loki...” I trailed off and shook my head, feeling a sense of sorrow settle upon me. “I had always thought I'd go to the Plains of Ida when I died. I never imagined anything like this.”
“So you know them already,” Vinnie commented in thoughtful tones. He appeared as troubled as before, when he was about to tell me of Thomas. “Guess it'll help with the news.”
I turned to him, wide-eyed. “Is it Thomas? Is he in Asgard?” I asked, heart pounding.
Vinnie offered me a wan smile. “Kind of.”
“Oh, Vinnie, out with it! Is he or isn't he?” I demanded, perplexed by his reluctance to give me news he was well aware I craved.
He held his hands up in a pleading gesture. “Okay, okay, don't get so angry,” he griped. He sighed and nodded. “Yeah. He is.”
Excitement coursed through me, and I again looked to Thor's arrival. My thoughts raced. Despite Vinnie's offer to bring Thomas to me, I doubted he would come willingly. I knew then I had to go to Asgard myself. How was another matter.
Upon reaching the gathering Thor drew rein and alighted with surprising grace for one so large. Sunlight glistened upon the surface of Mjolnir, his mighty hammer.
“Well met, good fellows, well met!” Thor boomed. I take oath that I heard an answering roll of thunder in the distance. He gripped Silenus' hand, nodded to Dionysus and Hermes. It was then I discovered he was smaller than the other three, as if he were mortal. “I see you have laid out quite a surplus of drink this day. 'Tis good, for the sun is hot upon me and I am weary with thirst.”
“I trust this weariness does not interfere with your ability to play the game,” Dionysus remarked.
Thor laughed. “Rest assured, I have enough thirst to partake in dozens of games,” he proclaimed. He gestured for the children to come forth. Each withdrew goblets and placed them on the edge of the table before stepping back. Thor clapped his hands together eagerly. “So shall we begin? What be the prize?”
“Twenty caskets of my best brew to the winner,” Dionysus replied with a sweeping, elegant gesture to the wagon nearby. “Provided you can best Silenus.”
“I've as great a thirst as you, Thor,” Silenus boasted. “There is not a man, hero nor god in this realm that can best my capacity for the vine.”
“Then I consider myself fortunate to be of Asgard and not Elysium,” Thor retorted cheerfully. He took up a goblet. “A drink, Master Dionysus! Let us begin!”
Dionysus nodded to a servant, and he approached Thor with a pitcher. After filling Silenus' glass, Dionysus nodded once more. The combatants exchanged smiles and drank. The audience cheered.
For my part, I watched events unfold stock-still and in awe. It was as if all the stories Mother told me of Thor- no, all Asgardians- had been given life before me. True to his word, Thor finished glass after glass, never once breaking stride. Silenus kept at a steady pace, the servants around him hurriedly refilling cups the moment he finished.
Vinnie let out a low whistle. “That guy sure can drink,” he remarked as Thor downed yet another glass. I had lost count by then.
“If this had been a contest of strength he would have won that as well,” I said assuredly.
“Oh, I knew that already. I was here last time. I think Hercules is still sore at him for their last match,” Vinnie commented. I could not keep from smiling.
After many more cups Silenus, wobbling to and fro, his eyes heavy lidded and features flushed, lifted a languid hand, then promptly toppled over. The audience cheered loudly, and Thor, as red faced as Silenus, hoisted his glass overhead with a great roar.
Dionysus spoke softly, calmly. “Congratulations, my friend. The caskets, and the day, are yours.”
“Well played,” Hermes added, reaching out to accept the coin from the servants he sent into the crowd. Many of those who had bet on Silenus were sullen as children as they endured the celebrations of their neighboring victors. “Few games are as amusing to us.”
“I've in mind another game, my good hosts,” Thor said, taking his hammer in hand. “Who here thinks they can best the God of Thunder in an eating contest?”
Dozens of hands shot up from the crowd, many, if not all, belonging to Echion and his fellow Spartoi. Thor rumbled with laughter. “So be it! Strike up a fire! We dine!” he called, then promptly had his goats slain and skinned. He had done it so swiftly and so cleanly, there was hardly a mess to be had.
As the Spartoi settled beside Thor and seized haunches of meat, and a pair of satyrs propped the inebriated Silenus upon as small a donkey as I had ever seen, Dionysus dismissed us to our duties. I expressed reluctance to leave, for I longed to speak to Thor, to see if he knew of Thomas. But the wine stewards were already barking orders at us, and the crowd dispersed.
“Better get moving,” Vinnie advised, eyeing the gods. “Don't want them mad at ya.”
“I can't leave yet,” I said. “I must speak with Thor.” At quick glance at the twenty caskets inspired an idea. “Hurry, Vinnie. Help me load those caskets.”
Vinnie, bless him, grasped my intent and gave acknowledged me with a nod. Together we hauled the caskets to Thor's chariot, where our parcels were taken up by his two servants. The boy I recognized as the one who, according to legend, had eaten the marrow of one of the goat's bones; he refrained from looking at the steadily growing pile of bones on the skins. I, on the other hand, watched the activity with great interest. I had to time my questions just right.
“A fine meal, Thor,” Echion complimented. He cast a reproving look at his fellows, all of whom lolled about holding their bellies and groaning. “But alas, too rich for us. It seems you have won the day again.”
“I do not lose often,” Thor stated through a mouthful of meat. “There are times when I long for a true challenge. It is why I find time to roam the realms.”
“I take it you have not been successful,” Echion observed, and Thor chuckled.
“Elysium has many fine champions. Perhaps I shall take my quest to the summit of Mount Olympus itself.”
“You'd be better suited to challenge a Titan,” Hermes said, lifting his glass in salute. “Now that, would be a game I'd wager on!”
“Here, here!” seconded one of the Spartoi.
“A Titan would be a worthy opponent,” commented a new voice, “for so few in this realm can match the lack of wit displayed before you.”
All present looked to the road, where a tall, somewhat lanky figure leaned against a tree. He wore a hooded cloak, concealing his face from all. Judging from tone alone, he was disgusted by what he saw.
Echion had half risen, hand at his dagger. “Who are you to insult a guest of this realm?” he demanded.
Thor dismissed the newcomer with a careless shrug and resumed eating. “Do not trouble yourself, Echion,” he said. “For who you address has nothing but contempt for arts he has no aptitude for. Isn't that right, Loki?”
After having bore witness to Thor's reality, it seemed only natural to react to Loki as calmly as I did. Yet as I watched him, I could not be rid of the sense that I had seen him before. It was a most curious thought.
Vinnie suddenly grabbed my hand. “Cat, it's him,” he said in a rapid undertone.
I only stared at him in surprise. Had he taken leave of his senses? Thomas couldn't possibly be Loki.
But when Loki stepped away from the tree, swept his hood back with one arrogant gesture and glared at Thor, I felt as if the ground had suddenly given way beneath me.
I knew him. I would know him anywhere.
It wasn't his ugliness that stayed my thoughts- for ugly he was, sallow skinned with deep set eyes, greasy, lanky hair hanging past his shoulders, a long hook nose and a hateful sneer tugging at thin, scarred lips. It was the color of those piercing, sunken eyes; never had I seen such bright, green eyes on a man other than Thomas.
And just like that, I knew it to be true. Past and present merged in that instant, visions of Thomas overlapping Loki with incredible speed, leaving me quite dizzy with revelation and fully aware of the meaning behind Silenus' haunting words. Aware of the treatment I had received from the other inhabitants I had met. Of Hades and Hermes' cryptic commentary.
For who other than a trickster would be capable of such malicious intent?
***
Thomas was not dead. Thomas had been Loki in disguise, all this time. It sounded so preposterous. The ravings of a madman. But it was true. All of it.
All I knew at that moment, all I felt, deserted me. I was adrift on a sea of utter, utter shock. My heart, once fractured at the first I heard of Thomas' betrayal, was now fully torn asunder. Emotions too great for me to define spilled forth from the seam. Daylight dimmed, the ground took charge of my body and I felt myself sinking. I hoped a great hole would swallow me, smother me. Make me forget what I had seen, what I had learned.
Instead I was granted sight of the Plains of Ida in full bloom. Delightful scents floated in the air, enticing as a soothing lullaby to a frightened child. I sprinted across the field, desperate to flee this place.
“Catherine,” whispered Thomas' voice, tender, enticing.
“No!” I shouted, moving away from the shade now approaching me. But it was no use. Thomas now stood in front of me, his expression pained.
“Catherine, why do you flee?” he asked softly, and great sorrow entered his eyes when I shied away from his touch. “Do you not recognize me?”
The pain in those eyes, that voice, the silent entreaty of his proffered hand. My chest and throat tightened, my body trembled. I would have given anything to be able to cry, to run. I was rooted to the spot.
His arm circled my shoulders, and I abruptly pushed him away. “No,” I moaned in anguish. “Leave me be!”
“My dear!” Thomas set his hands upon my shoulders, keeping me still. Try as I might to fight against him, his presence surrounded me, threatened to weaken me further. I felt it happening.
My husband cupped my face in his hands, pressed the gentlest of kisses upon my brow. I whimpered his name, my defenses nearly gone. Instinct had me grab at his waist. I could feel myself leaning toward him. Yearning for the comfort I once found in his arms.
Thomas murmured softly to me, his hands caressing upon my shoulders, the warmth of his breath fanning my cheeks. I lifted my face to his, and was mesmerized by his beautiful green eyes.
“Oh, Thomas...” Despair thickened my voice. “How could you do this to me?”
“I would never seek harm upon you, my darling.” He kissed my forehead, my cheeks. “Dearest Catherine, my Kitten. Banish these fears that hold you in thrall. I am here.”
The endearment tore away the last of my defenses. I whispered his name, closed my eyes in anticipation of his kiss. His mouth brushed against mine, his hand slid up my neck, fingers entwining in my hair. I parted my lips for him, silently begging he reclaim me.
And the gentle hand at my neck turned painful, the fingers clenched around a hank of hair. When I opened my eyes I screamed, for Loki leered at me, a terrible grin upon his face.
“Dearest Catherine,” he said in raspy, mocking tones. He coiled an arm around my waist, forced me against him. I struggled to break free, but his grip was that of iron. The weight of my invisible shackles seemed that much heavier.
Loki seized me by the chin, crushed it in his hand. A peculiar glow shone in his eyes, eyes that now were as yellowed as a diseased man's, but still possessed of the green I knew so well. His tongue snaked past his lips, animal-like. “Have no fear,” he hissed, and I whimpered. “For your beloved Loki is here.”
My cry of denial was lost to his rough kiss. I felt his teeth sink into my lips, tasted my own blood. Darkness rose up, drowning all light and sound. And through it all, his lips burrowed deeper into mine. I knew then he would kiss me right to the bone and not cease until he reached my very soul...
***
“Hey! Hey, Cat! Wake up!”
The voice echoed as if from a great distance. I feared it was Loki reaching out to bring me back into the darkness, but when I heard my name again, and recognized the distinct accented voice, I fought my way back to the light, desperate as a drowning woman. When at last I breached the surface I let out a loud, ragged gasp. Blackness became a blurred palette of green, white and blue. The sense that I was not alone forced me upright. My vision spotted, and a dizzying sense of nausea threatened to bring me back into darkness, so abrupt was my movement.
“Get away from me!” I shouted, plaintive and hysterical. A hand seized mine. Startled, I tried to pull away.
“Hey, it's all right, it's just me! Vinnie!”
I froze. The nightmarish shade holding me instantly transformed. Relief flooded my entire being at seeing Vinnie. “It's you...”
“Yeah, who else would it be?” he remarked archly. But just as swiftly his sarcasm became concern. “Damn, you scared the hell out of me. You all right? Looked like ya were having a bad dream.”
I covered my face with my hands. I could still feel the pressure of Loki's mouth on mine, the blood in my mouth. “It was,” I choked out.
I sensed Vinnie settle beside me, felt his arm go around my shoulder. Ashamed to having my distress witnessed, I leaned against him, willing such horrid visions to fade.
“It's okay. You'll be all right,” he consoled, as awkward as the shyest of school boys. “He's gone.”
I lifted my head. “Where did he go?” I asked in tremulous tones.
“Don't know. Dionysus asked him if he'd like to stay but he just sneered and left.”
“Did...did he see me?” My voice was no more than a whisper.
“Nah,” Vinnie replied. “It's probably 'cause you just dropped as soon as he pulled his hood off. We're lucky the gods around here don't pay too much attention to people like us. Draggin' you here wasn't easy. Those chains ya got on make you a lot a heavier than you look.”
I gazed down at my wrists. The weight of those chains had never felt heavier than that instant. It brought me down lower. “It's because of him I am forced to wear these,” I sighed, drawing away from Vinnie. I felt his eyes on me. I shook my head, slowly. “I cannot believe Thomas was Loki, all this time...”
“Yeah,” Vinnie grunted. “I've heard plenty bad stories about him. Always getting into trouble. Probably why he got himself thrown out of this place.”
I turned a curious gaze on him. “He was ejected from Asgard?”
“Asgard, hell, all the paradises,” Vinnie explained. “Hadn't seen or heard of him much lately, and believe me, I hear a lot. Old lady Agnes, she told me Loki had just gotten back.”
Slowly, so slowly, my mind grasped the integral part of this tale I had inadvertently found myself a part of. “He had been banished to the mortal world.”
“Yep. Got Odin so mad he made a deal with the other big bosses to keep Loki out until he had redeemed himself.”
“Redeem?” I echoed tersely. “And how would he have accomplished that?”
Vinnie's expression became uneasy. “By doin' what he did to you.”
The simple, startling truth of those words hung in the air between us. Once more my gaze lowered, as if I would somehow uncover some revelation from the ground. Instead I focused on the ring on my finger. It was of the finest quality, the most beautiful piece of jewelry I had ever owned. And I felt something break apart within- my heart, my mind, my soul.
At once I saw not a token of love, a promise, but a chain as heavy, as unyielding, as unwanted, as my shackles of servitude. Fury consumed me, and with a sharp, angered cry, had the ring wrenched from my finger. Vinnie, no doubt stricken by the violence of my gesture, kept his peace as I took up a nearby rock and began striking the ring. Angry exclamations, barely coherent and edged with wrath, tumbled past my lips until at last the diamond shattered, and I took up the twisted, beaten circle and threw it for the nearest bush. Panting, trembling from head to foot, I covered my face and screamed.
Only after the last echo of that soul-wrenching cry faded into the distance did I look over at Vinnie. I identified shock in his eyes, as if he were suddenly looking upon a stranger.
“I will not let this transgression go,” I vowed. Part of me could barely recognize it was my own voice, as ragged and deep as it was. “I swear on my dear child and mother's very souls that I will discover the reasons behind this deception. Loki will answer for this!”