Sweet Hell (17 page)

As he'd been listening to her, so repulsed by her childlike avarice, he hadn't felt Josie's hand slip out of his. Hadn't noticed her take that small step toward Persephone's wall of torment. But now he saw the look on his lover's face. Saw her gaze in anguish upon Eurydice's lost soul.

Saw her run toward the wall.

"Josie!” he cried.

And before he could aim his
thyrsus
to stop her, before he could even process what was happening, she laid her hands on the metal cuffs that bound Eurydice, and pulled.

"No!” he shouted.

It was already too late. In a moment whose magic Dionysus had not foreseen, Eurydice fell from the chains that bound her. And then the wall itself, as if sensing Josie's vitality and wanting it for itself, seized her. Its hot stones shifted and reached, seeming to swoop forward, gathering Josie in its unfeeling embrace. Before another second elapsed, she was chained in Eurydice's place. Josie writhed, her eyes bulging in terror, but she could not budge the shackles.

They stared at the captive, he and the others, and he didn't know who was more aghast.

When Persephone, sweet-looking Persephone, began to laugh, his awe was compounded. The titters of amazement filled the dark chamber, making his brain ache. “What a foolish girl!"

Eurydice ran to her husband, and before Persephone could stop cackling, the couple disappeared.

"Get her out of there, Persephone!” His voice boomed throughout the cavern. “Now, damn you!"

She appeared peeved at having lost track of Orpheus and his wife and not in the mood to deal with Dionysus. “I told you, the spell is irreversible. I can't do anything for her. Maybe your girlfriend shouldn't have been such a martyr."

Dionysus ignored her. He turned to Josie, who had stopped writhing in the clutches of the wall. Her face was etched in pain. He could see blood dripping from her wrists where the cuffs were chafing her. More than that. They were torturing her, clearly too tight for her wrists. Those sweet, soft wrists! The ones he'd kissed and held a hundred times.

He'd get her out if it was the last thing he did.

Dionysus pulled out all the stops, every godly power he possessed. He tried to smash the wall. Tried to yank the metal cuffs from her. Attempted to dissolve into the wall like a fine mist so he could destroy it from the inside. He aimed his
thyrsus
and tried to take the wall apart, stone by stone. He pounded it until the sweat was pouring from him and his arms were bloodied.

None of it worked. He'd never felt more helpless.

"It's no good,” Persephone told him. “Your magic won't undo this spell."

"Why not?” he asked, astounded. He was a god! How could his magic not work here?

"That wall,” she explained, “does not recognize you because it could care less about good or evil. It simply wants a human body in its clutches. A mortal, fragile body. I created it with Eurydice in mind, but it does not distinguish.” She sighed. “I'm sorry, Dionysus. Your friend will just have to stay."

"No,” he murmured, insane with fear for her. Out of his mind with a grief he couldn't bear to conceive. Absolutely unable to accept the outcome of this bizarre, hateful quest.

And the whole time, Josie was just gazing at him with love, as if she'd already accepted it.

Well, she might be too tired to fight, but he'd never give up.

Dionysus turned to Persephone, ready to beg. “Please, there must be a way. We can go to Hades. To Zeus!"

She put a hand on his shoulder, as if to comfort him. As if anything would ever comfort him again. “Now, now, Dionysus. You know as well as I that all our powers are unique. The spell was binding. Even Hades and Zeus cannot reverse it."

By all that was holy, he knew it. There was no way he could get her out. He loved her with everything in him, and he couldn't get her out. He'd promised to take her back home, and he'd failed.

"Come now,” Persephone cooed. “There are lots of humans where this one came from. Just find another one somewhere."

Her words reverberated in a deep place in his soul.
Just find another one
.

Josie screamed. The cuffs, they seemed tighter now. The blood was coursing down her arms in crimson ribbons, as if mocking him for the message he'd written on her palm. He was terrified the cuffs would sever her delicate veins, making her a slave to this hell forever, enchaining her spirit here.

He gazed upon the woman he loved. No. He would not allow this to be her fate.

She raised her exhausted head, taking him in through her tears, and smiled sadly at him. “It's okay. Just go."

"No, my love,” he replied, full of determination. “I said I had your back. I always will."

With her watching, with his goddess aunt watching, Dionysus began to chant words he'd always known, but had always feared. Words he'd once heard his cousin Eryx utter in a moment that transformed him forever. Words he'd never expected to say himself ... but that was before Josie came into his life. Making him better.

Making him truly loved.

From out of nowhere, a wind started up in the chamber, low and circling around his feet. Dionysus continued to utter the powerful words, knowing he had to intone the spell three times to make it effective. As binding as Persephone's spell. The wind cycloned around his body, whipping around his legs, his hips, his arms and shoulders. Lifting him off the ground. Levitating him and tossing him around the chamber.

"What are you doing?” Josie cried.

Persephone shouted. “Stop it this instant, Dionysus! You have no right to mistreat the powers you were given!"

He felt his head snap back. Felt a searing pain careen through his entire body. White-hot light that scalded him through and through, making mincemeat of his organs and bones. The worst torment he'd ever experienced.

And for Josie, he'd gladly do it over and over.

There was a flash, a wicked stabbing sensation near his heart and in his head. The gale ceased, and his body was pitched to the cold floor.

For a second, he couldn't move, he was in such pain. Then he realized the pain was good. It meant the spell had worked.

He was mortal.

With Persephone too stunned to react, Dionysus stumbled to his feet, his eyes always on Josie. He ran to the tortuous wall, touched the metal cuffs, and saw them release her. And in that moment, the wall of death sensed another mortal and swept him up in its foul clutches. Leaving Josie dazed, but free.

"What have you done?” she whispered to him, her face a mask of torment.

He gazed back into her hazel eyes. Oh, those eyes would haunt him for eternity! “I love you so much, Josie,” he breathed, smiling at her. “Go home now."

With that, the Fates sensed her quest was completed, and she vanished. Her disappearance was accompanied by the sound of her screaming, “No!” echoing in the room until the last, strangled cry faded into oblivion.

Dionysus felt his eyes, his weak mortal eyes, well up. Felt the cuffs cut into his skin. The skin that was once virtually impenetrable. No matter. He'd done right by her and would take pleasure in the pain, knowing it was no longer hurting her.

"You fool,” Persephone muttered.

"You said the wall wanted a mortal,” Dionysus growled back. “You didn't say which one."

The goddess walked up to him and slapped his face hard. Making it sting with a force his former godlike self would not have noticed. “You had to be the hero. Oh, God of Wine. God of nothing."

The same orange hyacinth-scented smoke that brought Persephone into the room now carried her away, back to her castle in hell. Leaving Dionysus alone, with only the sputtering, steaming wall for company.

He closed his eyes, thought of Josie, and embraced his own personal hell.

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Chapter 13

Josie landed with a thump. Not even understanding how she had fallen or where she'd fallen from. Quaking, she looked around and saw she was on the landing outside her apartment. And there was police tape across the door barring the way in.

The threshold she'd last crossed with Dionysus.

"Oh, God!” It all came flooding back. Him, chanting those strange words. Him, a mortal, suspended from that vile wall. Him. Gone.

Her pain forced its way through her throat, rushing upward with a disgusting force that pitched her body forward. She vomited all over the landing, her body shaking, not knowing whether to sob or hurl. It did both at the same time.

The noise couldn't help but attract Petter from next door. His door opened, and Josie heard him mutter some choice words in Norwegian. She managed to hold her head up for a second and saw the concern in his pale eyes.

So unlike Dionysus's warm eyes.

She threw up again on the hem of his Energie jeans.

"Jesus Christ,” Petter swore. “Babe, what happened to you? Your brothers have been turning the city upside down looking for you. We all have. You've been on the news every night! Josie..."

And then he trailed off because he must have noticed how hard she was trembling. He leaned over and picked her up. She would always be grateful for that, considering she was covered in puke and smelled like a pig.

"I need to call your brothers. I need to get you to a hospital,” he said, seeing her bloodied arms. “I need to introduce you to a bathtub."

"Please,” she wailed, her chest still racked with sobs. She couldn't stop sobbing! “Not yet. Please don't call anyone yet."

"Okay,” he said quietly, obviously not sure what to do. “Look, I can't bring you into your flat. It's a crime scene. Do you mind coming into mine?"

She assented, thankful for any opportunity to hide from the world.

The wall had killed Dionysus! She was sure of it. He must be dead.

Her stomach pitched again, even before Petter could set her down on the couch, but it was a dry heave. She'd pretty much left the contents of her belly out on the landing, and hadn't eaten much lately anyway. Just the wonderful food Dionysus had conjured up for her...

"Dionysus,” she moaned, her eyes rolling back into her head.

Petter laid her gently on the sofa, clearly alarmed at her rambling. “Dionysus. That's your dark-haired friend, right?” His eyes widened in realization. “Fuck. He didn't do this to you, did he? Because if he did, I know some people. The Norwegian mafia is trying to get a foothold in Toronto..."

"No.” She held up a hand. “No. He didn't do this to me. He loves me."

"Oh.” Petter looked mildly put out, as if that knowledge squashed any hopes he might have had. “Then who did, babe? Look at your arms! I've never seen such blood."

"I've just been in a ... bad place.” What was she supposed to say? That she'd gone to Hades, a so-called imaginary den of iniquity, in search of a woman? That she'd found her, as well as an unfeeling goddess and a former shitty boyfriend? And along the way, she'd discovered her soul mate? A man who used to be a Greek god, but was now suffering eternal torment for her?

She could already see the question marks on the police report. The ones that recommended a psych evaluation.

"Josie,” Petter said softly, brushing her dirty hair off her forehead. “I have to call someone. You've been missing for a week."

A week. The same deadline Orpheus had given them. A week that had seemed like a year. Because of the horrors they'd faced, but also because it felt as if she'd known Dionysus forever. Every stolen glance had felt like a delicious hour of loving. Every touch, like a year in bed with him. And every hungry kiss as fulfilling as a long life spent in each other's company. Something she'd never really have with him.

She'd never feel that again. He was gone, and she had no idea how to find him. If he was even still alive.

She squeezed her eyes shut, but his image continued to taunt her. She put her arms over her face, but nothing could take the picture of him away.

And she didn't want it to go away anyway. Even though the thought of him was bruising her from the inside out. Making her bleed from a wound no doctor would ever find.

Petter touched her hand. “Josie."

"Please,” she begged, opening her stinging eyes. “Just give me half an hour. That's all I ask. Then you can call. Please."

The flummoxed Norwegian nodded and moved to the couch on the opposite side of the room, perching uncomfortably on it.

With that small measure of privacy, Josie turned into the couch, burying her face in the cushions, and wept. Letting the image of Dionysus wash over her and take her. Allowing the scream in her head to subside into painful sobs.

There, on a male model's couch, she prayed to God, any god, to just let her die.

The dreams began that night.

Horrible, disjointed dreams featuring all the images she'd seen in hell. Each night as her impossibly-fatigued head hit the pillow, she relived their bizarre journey. The butterfly. David Cassidy. The lovers in The Sinners. Sean. All of it.

And he was there though it all, as he had been in reality. Dionysus, her own Greek god. The devastating man who'd killed her with his smiles, who'd tempted her with his scent. Who'd loved her better than any other.

The man who'd effectively died for her. She'd always known life involved a measure of sacrifice, but had never expected anyone to make the ultimate sacrifice for her.

For her.

But he had.

And each night, Fate continued to torment her by including him in her nightmares. By reminding her of what his touch could do. She relived their passion every time she closed her eyes. A constant agony because she never wanted to open her eyes anyway.

She'd blink, and he'd be there, touching her cheek. Her lashes would flutter and he'd be nuzzling at her neck, filling her room with the sweet scent of Concord grapes. Even now, she could feel the tip of his warm tongue as it teased a line from her ear to her shoulder. She'd allow herself to fall into sleep's cold embrace, and Dionysus was immediately inside her. Filling her, wrapping his strong arms around her body, spilling his seed into her needy soul.

Every day she awoke, she prayed the dream Dionysus might have somehow impregnated her. That she could bring a little piece of him back into the world. A little boy with dark curls and even darker eyes.