The Deep End of the Sea (12 page)

The conversation turns to more mundane things, but as they talk, my attention wanders over to the windows. Glass separates us from a beautiful vista, of trees and grass, of plants wild and cultured, and of fountains and art. Somewhere beyond that is a city—and yet, somehow, despite the proximity I’ve finally gained, I feel like Poseidon and Athena still have me trapped in the middle of the sea.

As Hermes left an hour back to go on an urgent errand for his father, Kore is the one to bring me to a gym located in the west wing of the villa. Unlike the ones I’d seen on my computer, this one isn’t crowded and filled with sweaty people hitting on one another; pristine, sparkling machines and gorgeous mosaicked walls greet me instead.

Meeting us at the entrance, an extremely tall, well-built man says something in a language I don’t understand to Kore. She answers in kind, motioning toward me. He’s dressed in all black—black t-shirt (fitted so tightly across his chest that I wonder if he can breathe), black cargo pants, and black, highly polished boots that reach halfway up to his knees. Despite us being indoors, he’s also wearing black sunglasses. A small corkscrew wire curves from his ear down into his shirt, and from the expression on his face, I must admit, I’m a bit intimidated, especially as I’m at a disadvantage sitting in a wheelchair.

But then he inclines his head toward me and says, “I am Talos.”

Uh ... okay?

“Talos is one of Lord Hades’ finest Automatons,” Kore says, as if this clarifies matters.

I hate feeling ignorant; normally, I’d just whip out my computer or phone and search for whatever has got my mind itching, but as neither are with me, I’m forced to ask exactly what an Automaton is.

“The Automatons are the elite soldiers of the gods,” Kore says. Her words are delivered patiently, as if it’s not a burden to have to explain even the most mundane things to one as ignorant as me.

So this is the guy Hades said had to, and I use this word loosely,
escort
me around Olympus if and when I choose to leave the villa. He looks less like an escort and more like a mercenary from some war movie. I let out a tiny sigh—can’t seem too ungrateful, after all, not when the gods have blessed me so much lately—and say to them, “I take it we’ll be spending much time together.”

The left corner of Talos’ mouth cracks upwards, but he says nothing in return.

“Ah! This must be the fearsome Gorgon that’s got Olympus abuzz!” booms a voice from across the gym. I have to peer around Talos, as he makes no effort to move from his position in front of me, to find a small, dark, thin man wearing a ratty baseball cap heading our way. He stops in front of me, arms crossed and yet a finger tapping his chin as if he’s in deep thought. “Not much of a monster, are you? You’re a bit too pretty for it. Open up your mouth, dearie. Let’s see if you’ve got some ugly fangs inside.”

Talos turns and leaves the room without another word. I watch his departure while Kore says flatly, “Charming as always, Tele.”

“Am I right on? Too many fangs? Or ... perhaps the cat got your tongue?” he asks me. “Oh, wait. Did Athena take that, too?”

My head whips back around toward where this Tele is standing. Is he serious? Because, help or no, I’m in no mood to be tormented about my monstrous past.

Kore smacks his arm, which causes him to burst into surprisingly boyish giggles. She then hisses, “It would be prudent for you to show proper respect, Tele. The lady here is under not one, but three mighty gods’ protections. They would not look kindly upon such disrespect.”

This is ridiculous. A servant fighting my battles? As he pointed out, I’m the infamous Gorgon. So I look up at him (which doesn’t take much effort from where I’m sitting, as he’s one of the shortest men I’ve ever seen), and say, “The assessment I was given earlier is apparently quite apt. You
are
an ass.”

He stops giggling long enough for his eyes to grow nearly twice their normal size. And then he cracks up so hard he actually cries. Drops to the ground, clutches his stomach, and rolls around making the most hideous yet entertaining sounds of hilarity I’ve ever heard.

Kore sighs and haphazardly kicks at him, which only riles him back up. Hermes was closer to his description of this man-boy than he possibly realized, as he sounds grossly close to an actual ass with his braying. “My lady, this is Telesphoros. Despite his abhorrent behavior, he really is an excellent physical therapist.”

He springs to his feet, his laughter immediately stopping. “Damn right I am.” Then he smacks my knee before kneading it. His hands are disproportional to his body: fingers long and spindly atop the narrowest palm I’ve ever seen. “So. You’re one of the lucky ones, eh?”

I shove his weird hand off. “Meaning?”

He flips his baseball cap so the bill faces backward. “Not a lot of your kind manages to get their curse reversed before they either are put down like the animals they become by do-gooders or go insane and kill themselves in some kind of mad fury.”

As I tried to off myself countless times, his statement takes me by surprise. Others managed to do what I could not? “You’ve worked with those like me before?”

His head cocks to the side as he walks in a circle around me. “Not many. Like I said, they’re usually taken care of before they can make it back to Olympus.” He taps the back of my head; Kore is the one to swat him away. “Is this how you were before the curse?”

A girl, running through the field in a long dress ...

I’m honest with my answer. “I don’t remember. It’s been a long time.”

“You don’t remember what you looked like?” I resent the pity that comes with Kore’s words. Pity is the last thing I need right now. I’ve had millennia of pity. What I need right now is strength.

“Two thousand years will do that to an old broad.” Telesphoros’ grin turns mischievous. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter now, anyway. My assignment is the same no matter if you’ve got the same legs you were born with or some strange ones Athena thought might be a swell parting joke. I’m to get you walking like you’ve been doing it instead of slithering this whole time. Tell me, are snakes slimy? I bet you didn’t need lubricants, if you know what I mean.” He winks over and over at me, like his eye got stuck on repeat.

No, really. Is this guy for real?

His special brand of honking-braying proceeds, “Too soon?”

Kore jerks him away. “I am telling you, Tele, if word gets out you are disrespecting the lady, it will not be good for you, excellent physical therapist or not.”

“You gonna tell, pretty girl?” he asks me, grinning maniacally.

Revulsion slams into me. I hiss, “Don’t you dare call me that.”

That wipes the idiotic grin off his face. Part of me wants to punch him, feel fist against bones and not care if any of them break or bleed. Fight back this time. Not lie down quietly, not be the victim. Who the hell does he think he is, anyway?
How dare he call me that.

“You mean pret—” this man says to me, but I jerk myself out of the chair, not caring that my knees are trembling just as surely as my curled fists.

I shove a finger into his chest, and he stumbles back in surprise. “Don’t you say it again.”

“My lady?” Kore asks quietly. She grabs my arm, but I shake her off. “Perhaps we should go back to your suite?”

But the small man in front of me—an asshole of a healer, not the Lord of the Seas—grows a smug smile. “You’re angry. This is good.”

“Lady Medusa,” Kore tries again, “you are tired. Let us retire to your rooms; we can come back again tomorrow.”

“No, no—this is good.” Now his nods are on repeat. “Anger is good. I can work with anger. She doesn’t need your coddling, Nymph-girl. She needs somebody to help her kick some ass.” His lips curl so high that I swear, the corner of one side of his mouth closes in on an ear. “And I can do that.”

“Prove it,” I say.

So he does.

Years of dragging heavy statues around an island were child’s play compared to the hell Telesphoros put me through today. I ache in places I didn’t even know I could. Wobbly even before the deranged PT got ahold of me, my legs couldn’t support me standing up right now if I wanted them to.

I am liquid held together by skin.

“Your presence has been requested for dinner tonight.” Kore bends my knee and kneads my calf. A rather embarrassing moan of relief escapes me. I’m laying face down on some kind of special table Telesphoros sent up to my room. Apparently, Kore is a skilled masseuse; well, at least in my mind she is, but as this is my first massage ever, I’ll admit to not having much to compare it to. Considering this feels heavenly in contrast to the torment Tele put me through, I’m going to have to stand by this assessment of her.

“However,” she continues, nimble fingers digging into my muscles, “I can send down word down that you are too tired from today’s session.”

I lift an arm and give her a thumb’s up. There is no way I’m in the mood to go and be social right now. Not when being social is almost as tiring as exercising new legs.

I can only pray this will not cause offense.

She works in silence for a long time, working both legs and then my back. I swear, her fingers have magic in them. Finally, she says, “About earlier today, my lady ...”

“Eurgh?” is my answer, because even talking right now is exhausting.

“The conversation we had with Lord Hermes in the hallway. I wanted ...” Only her words pause momentarily, thankfully, as her fingers continue to kneed my shoulders. “Please let me reassure you that I would never betray your confidence.”

Well, there goes our golden silence.

She sounds so sad and tremulous, so ... I don’t know. Maybe hopeful and yet scared all at the same time? But the thing is, I haven’t ever had a girlfriend before. My only friends for the last two thousand years have been men—one of them old, the other a deity, so I’m pretty positive I haven’t had the best examples of what typical friendships are like. I’ve no idea how to react to her—is this the moment we hug and I tell her it’ll be okay? I’ve seen that happen in movies, read about it in books. Or should I make her pinky swear to ensure her words stay true? Girls do that with one another, right?

A knock comes at the door, mercifully saving me from doing anything at all. She pulls my nightgown over me before answering it. Soft words float around me, but I choose not to listen carefully. I hover around sleep until a hand presses against my shoulder blades. But it’s not Kore’s delicate hand; it’s large and warm and immediately familiar.

A sleepy smile can’t be held back, even if opening my eyes feels like the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do before.

“I just got back,” Hermes tells me. Kore murmurs something in the background; I think she’s gotten him a chair for him to sit down on. “And I know you’re tired, but I wanted to make sure today went well for you.”

That he came here after a long day of work himself warms me considerably. My words are marbles in my mouth, but he’s my friend. He’ll understand. “I think I’m worse off than before.”

He laughs quietly. He also knows I’m mostly joking. “That bad?”

“Tele is a sadist.” Then, realizing he might interpret that incorrectly, I add, “I’m kidding. He put me through a workout, though.”

I can feel his fingers twist in my hair; it feels just as heavenly as Kore’s massage. “Thought you would like to know that on my way back from my meeting today, I stopped and saw Mikkos.”

Now I pry my eyes open. He’s sitting less than a foot away, his eyes more green than blue, as they stare down at me. As beautiful as they are when they’re crystal blue, I think I prefer them this shade. Not that I’d tell him or anything, because I’m sure gods have better things to do than listen to people wax poetic about their blindingly good looks. “How is he?”

“He’s fine—he and some mates were in a bar, toasting to old times.” He leans closer and his familiar, lovely scent curls around me. “Even had a charming lady friend with him, hanging on to every word.”

Oh, this warms my heart.

Hermes pulls his cell phone out with his free hand and scrolls through his pictures until he finds one of Mikkos and some woman clearly decades younger than him.