Pandora Gets Heart (15 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY
The Apple

Pandy was shaking so violently that she had trouble standing up. Racked with grief, she turned to face Aphrodite. Pandy’s mind couldn’t piece it together, couldn’t make sense out of what just happened. If it had been Hades, it would have been logical: still terrible, still devastating, but logical that the God of the Underworld would require death. Even if it had been Ares, bloody, fierce, and cruel, she might have understood why he should exact such a terrible tribute. A human life would be a fitting payment to the God of War. But Aphrodite was all about love and beauty and delight. There was no reconciling her desire for death.

Pandy looked into the goddess’s smiling face with new horror and curiosity.

Aphrodite held out the golden apple.

“A deal is a deal!” she chirped.

Pandy stepped up onto the rubble and was about to take the apple in her right hand.

“P-Pandy,” Iole hiccuped, still crying. “The net.”

Pandy had completely forgotten that touching the pure source of Lust could, probably would, infect her. She blindly fumbled in her leather pouch, still in an almost surreal emotional place, at last pulling out the adamant net. Laying it across her right palm, she watched as Aphrodite slowly lowered the apple into her hand.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Pandy saw a flash of color. Her head turned and she saw the last few centimeters of the murderous snake just as it was disappearing into the darkness. The light from the oil lamps glinted off its body and Pandy saw that the snake wasn’t black at all; the scales in the dim light reflected blue . . . and green . . . and gold.

Pandy didn’t have time to compute exactly what this meant before she felt something drop into her hand. Turning back, she saw the apple sitting on top of the net.

“There you go,” Aphrodite said. “Just for you. Hold it tight now, don’t want to let it fall.”

As if on command, Pandy’s fingers closed the net around the apple. It felt far lighter than a solid gold apple should have been. Involuntarily, her fingers kept squeezing. Aphrodite began to laugh. Pandy stared up at the goddess, whose face had begun to change drastically. The next instant, the apple exploded into dust, crumbling and releasing hundreds of tiny spiders in her palm. Dropping the net and shaking her hand free of the blue, green, and gold spiders, she looked again at Aphrodite and saw that the simple night-sheath was changing into a brilliant blue robe. The golden hair was turning a deep red, and the soft, round mouth was becoming a vicious, malevolent grin.

The façade of Aphrodite was gone, and Hera stood in her place, hands on her hips, her head thrown back, laughing loudly.

“That’s right, precious child,” Hera said, reading her thoughts. “Me. Only me. All along.”

At that moment, there was a huge silver flash off to Pandy’s right. Hermes and Aphrodite, the real Aphrodite, with her golden hair and her enchanted girdle, stood surveying the scene. Hermes, clutching in his fist the two small, dead snakes Apollo had pulled from his stomach, was simply and utterly furious. But Aphrodite had a look of abject despair on her face as she gazed at Alcie’s body, then at Pandy. Turning toward Hera, Aphrodite’s brow furrowed and a look of anger crossed her face the likes of which Pandy had never seen.

In that moment, something in Pandy snapped— shredding any sense of protocol, decorum, or respect. And with it, some of her sense of self-preservation. All Pandy felt was the most intense anger she’d ever known. Hera had not only deceived her with a clay apple, but her best friend had died a hideous, tortured death for no reason other than that Hera was a spiteful, petty, evil goddess who delighted in seeing Pandy and her friends suffering in pain.

Then, as if the words had actually been spoken out loud, Pandy heard Aphrodite’s voice in her head as clear as a temple bell.

“Do it.”

At once, she realized that Aphrodite had read her thoughts, knew what she wanted to do, and was— impossibly, incredibly—giving her permission. Since she was in Aphrodite’s temple and the goddess herself, the true goddess, was standing right there, Pandy felt she might have some protection. But all of this went through her mind at the same time her right hand was rearing back.

Without thinking of the consequences to herself or her remaining friends, without thinking of the wrath it certainly could and probably would arouse in other immortals, without thinking that this single act would cause her to become a mythical figure in her own right, Pandy stepped forward . . .

. . . and slapped Hera right across the face.

Iole screamed and Homer choked. Hermes snorted, while Aphrodite remained silent, concentrating on Hera’s next movements.

In the two seconds that followed, as she watched Hera, twisted from the force of Pandy’s blow, bring a hand up and touch her red, stinging cheek, Pandy did not for a moment contemplate her own death. She didn’t wonder what it would be like or how it would happen. And when Hera slowly brought herself again to her full height, time, for Pandy, began to slow down. As Hera’s eyes flashed and she slowly raised her arms above her head, Pandy heard the words, “Filthy brat! Now you die!” as if they were being stretched out like a long piece of chewing sap. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Aphrodite raising her hands to deflect or lessen whatever Hera was going to do and heard her cry, “Not in my temple!”

None of it mattered.

In the next moment, the world became soundless, and Pandy’s mind was controlled and focused like a razor-thin shaft of light. She wanted only one thing and she made it happen so fast that none of the immortals had any time at all to read her thoughts.

Before Hera’s condemnation of Pandy was fully out of her mouth, Pandy stared at the wife of Zeus, Queen of Heaven, and the most powerful goddess in the pantheon.

And set her on fire.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Whole New Level

The flames were everywhere; not quite burning her immortal flesh, but her eyebrows were gone in seconds and her eyelashes sparked with white heat before each one was incinerated, the charred lashes falling into her eyes and making her wince. Hera was at the very center of the conflagration. She wasn’t screaming—that was something Hera refused to do under any circumstances; fear was for mortals. But she was gasping in surprise, another emotion that Hera was unused to, just as she was unused to being set alight. Some sections of her beautiful red hair were turning crispy and black, while other hunks of it were igniting and flying away as ash. Her nose hairs were singed to their roots, causing her to sneeze and shriek like a peacock. The putrid smell of burnt hair filled the air between Hera and Pandy.

But it was only when she saw the hem of her robe and the edges of her sleeves ablaze that she actually comprehended that, not only had Pandy done this
to
her, but it was severe, lasting, and it wasn’t going out. Hera began to stamp at the bottom of her robe and flail her sleeves wildly. Suddenly, the flames reached her skull as all of her hair burned away and the thin skin around her brain heated up. She began to slap the top of her head.

Hermes walked over to the inferno. He pulled Pandy, nearly catatonic, down off the rubble and casually tossed the two dead snakes into the flames. Without being able to see clearly what they were, Hera batted them away blindly. Then Hermes turned, very slowly, and gazed at Pandy, her eyes clear white, her fists clenched. He sighed a very long sigh.

“Okay, kiddo. Enough.”

Pandy didn’t move.

Hermes bent down and put his lips to her ear.

“Pandora . . .
stop
!”

Pandy gave a tremendous shudder, so big that Hermes had to steady her by the shoulders to keep her from toppling over. The flames she had created died instantly, but Hera’s garments were still on fire and Hera whirled around, fighting to put them out. Pandy closed her eyes and buried her face in Hermes’ robes, convulsing with grief.

As she extinguished the small fires on her garments, exterminating Pandy was not Hera’s primary concern, and those few moments gave Aphrodite a chance to step forward, placing herself between Hera and everyone else.

When the last flames were out, Hera instantly turned on Pandy, her chest heaving and her arms raised again, and found Aphrodite standing in her way.

“Move!” she commanded.

“I’m sorry,” Aphrodite said sweetly to the smoldering, hairless goddess with the blackened robes. “Come again? I didn’t quite catch that. Certainly you would not be giving me any orders in my temple, would you?”

“Aphrodite, get out of my way!”

“Why? One little girl a day isn’t enough for you?”

Hera balled up her meaty, blackened hands as they were poised over her head.

“You would
protect
her? After what she just did?”

“What are you talking about?” Aphrodite asked, a tone of incredulity in her voice. “Except for the fact that you impersonated me and killed a child, we didn’t see anything, did we Hermes?”

“Nope,” Hermes replied, his hand on Pandy’s head, trying to calm her because she was now shaking ferociously.

“All I see is you having a rather bad hair day,” Aphrodite sang out. The sound of Aphrodite’s voice, as it always did, made Pandy happy somewhere deep inside. And this time Pandy knew there was no reason at all.

“You know, I could fashion a wig for you,” Aphrodite went on. “Would you like that? Borrow some of Demeter’s leaves . . . or I could just put a sheep on top of your head?”

Hera, her hands still raised, trained her soot-ringed eyes on Aphrodite.

“Have you forgotten what happened that last time we were on opposite sides? A little thing called the Trojan War? Your side didn’t fare so well. You want to put yourself in that place?”

“Oh, by Ares’ sword, are you going to try roasting that old chestnut again?” Aphrodite laughed. “First of all, the sides were split pretty evenly on that one, and you had Athena on your side.”

Then she took a step forward and waved away the gray wisps rising from Hera’s smoking head.

“Let’s see if Theeny takes your side this time when I tell her you murdered a helpless blind girl . . . and tricked Pandora, who by the way, Athena thinks could be just as clever as Odysseus when she gets older . . . all while pretending to be me. As if you could have kept up
that
charade for much longer. I’m surprised, Pandora . . .”

Aphrodite turned and lifted Pandy’s chin with her finger, smiling down into Pandy’s face.

“. . . that you didn’t see through her ruse. Ah, well.”

Hera stretched her arms even higher above her head.

“Aphrodite, so help me, that brat is going to
die this
instant
and I will take you and the errand boy down with her!” Hera screeched.

“Wife!”

Everyone, including Hera, jumped.

Zeus’s voice came booming through the temple again, shaking loose stones and construction dust down from the ceiling.

“Wife? My dream? I seek you.”

There was a pause. Hera looked about as if seeking the quickest escape.

“You don’t answer?” Aphrodite said. “Let me call him for you.”

“Stop it!” Hera spat. “I can deal with my husband myself.”

“Hera? Pomegranate seed? Ripe-but-gargantuan grape?”

“Here, loved one,” she called out loudly. “Aphrodisias.”

A white light erupted toward the front of the temple, growing brighter and larger until the entire inside of the temple was visible clear as day. For a second, Pandy’s eyes beheld the true enormity of the Aphrodisias temple, and the different but beautiful flourishes on the columns and side walls. And then she saw the enormous figure of the Sky-Lord strolling casually down the main aisle, his silver hair flowing over his broad shoulders, debris and scaffolding flying out of his way as if tossed by unseen hands.

“There you are, my falafel patty,” Zeus said, looking around the temple as Pandy, Iole, and Homer knelt in front of him. “I have been scouring the known world for you. I’d like your opinion on a new color option I’m trying out for the clouds at sunrise, and since it is close to dawn and Apollo is nearly done harnessing his steeds, I felt that now would be as good a time as any. . . . Where is your hair?”

“Uh . . . well . . . you see,” Hera began.

“Why is your robe singed?” Zeus asked. Then, without taking his eyes off his wife as Hera struggled to find her words, he sidestepped his way over to Alcie’s body and pointed down. “And what happened here?”

Pandy held her tongue, as did everyone else. To expose Hera’s part in Alcie’s death would have meant exposing everyone else’s assistance over the past several months. Not only would Zeus learn about Hera’s wickedness but also he would discover where and how she’d gotten her information and that would mean a clear picture of how Hermes, Athena, Hephaestus, and all the others had helped.

“She was bitten by a snake, Cloud Gatherer,” Pandy said. That much she could say, certainly; it was the truth. She stood, clinging to Hermes’ leg, somehow finding the courage to speak when all others were silent.

“It was . . . an accident.” Suddenly she realized she’d just lied to Zeus.

“That’s right, Father,” Hermes said evenly. “She was bitten by a snake.”

“Hermes and I were chatting with Hera when we heard Pandora’s cries,” Aphrodite chimed in. Her tone was so natural and deceitfully honest that Pandy wondered for a moment if love and lying always went hand in hand. “Naturally, if it had been anywhere else, we wouldn’t have paid the slightest attention. But they were in
my
temple . . . in a foreign land . . .
screaming
. . . so we arrived to see what was happening, but found the situation hopeless. And Hera backed into several altar lamps at the sight of the snake.”

Zeus turned to look at Hermes as Hera deliberately knocked over a standing altar lamp close by.

“Ooops, I did it again!”

As he stared at his son, Zeus shook his head slightly. Hermes couldn’t tell if Zeus was disgusted that he would cover for Hera or disappointed that he and Aphrodite hadn’t been clever enough to come up with a better lie.

“Must have been quite the blaze to turn you into a walking egg,” Zeus said, smiling at his wife’s bald head. Then he gazed down at Pandy.

“Greetings, Pandora.”

“Mighty Zeus,” Pandy replied.

“I am sorry for your friend. Good friends are hard to come by. You must be on constant guard against snakes, of every sort. However, I am glad to see you. I have absolutely no idea how this happened, but I found something of yours on Olympus early this morning. I can only say, he must be quite the climber . . . I don’t think there’s even a bird alive that can scale its heights, and yet there he was, roaming the halls and apartments, quite lost. While you have lost one friend, I’m sure you’d like to have another back.”

Immediately, Pandy heard a joyful bark from the front of the temple. Moving away from Hermes, she all but stumbled off the altar and toward the light. Almost at once she saw a snow-white fur ball flying down the aisle. With Alcie’s death, Pandy had been forced to accept that the people and creatures she loved most were going to be taken from her and never returned; that death and loss were going to be as normal a part of her life as marriage and children were to others, and in essence, that there was a deadly price to pay for being close to her. She had all but given up hope of ever running, playing, holding . . .
seeing
. . . him again, but as Dido jumped on her, licking her face and whimpering with delight, she felt the enormous hole in her heart close up—just the tiniest bit.

“And now we must be off,” Zeus said, extending his hand to Hera. “Sunrise waits for no one. Usually.”

“I shall attend presently, husband,” Hera said, smiling demurely.

“You will attend now,” Zeus said.

When Hera didn’t move instantly, Zeus walked up to her.

“There is nothing else to be done, my giant nesting water hen,” he said low and evenly. “There is no other action for you to take here.”

Hera gazed at him, then at all the others, her eyes coming to rest on Pandora.

“As you wish, my lord,” she said, taking his hand and letting him lead her up the main aisle. As she passed, Pandora noticed that new red hairs were already starting to grow on her head, although her gown remained charred. Hera called out in a voice laced with honey. “I, too, am sorry for your loss, Pandora. And while I rejoice at your reunion with your beloved pet, I know that the loss of a comrade is such a blow. The dynamic has changed, if you will. Now, for all of you, things are on a whole . . . new . . . level. I wish you only the best of luck.”