“I know. That’s why I need her number and need it now.”
Another pause, shorter this time. Finally, she says, “If this is all some ploy that will hurt him in the end, I’ll grind you to dust. There will be nothing left of you when I’m done.”
“If I fail with what I’m about to do, you’re more than welcome to try. The number, Helen. Please.”
She curses and rattles off the number. I hang up without saying goodbye. Time is of the essence, but I still allow myself a few seconds to take some breaths and get my head on straight. I only get one shot at this; I can’t afford to screw it up.
My heartbeat isn’t anywhere near normal as I dial Aphrodite’s number. It’s just as well. She won’t believe me if I’m too calm. She’s smart enough to sense that there’s more to this than it seems, so it’s my job to ensure she’s too focused on the possibility of getting to me to worry about a trap. Or at least too arrogant to think that any trap of mine could hold her.
When she answers, she’s as cold as ice. “Aphrodite speaking.”
“I’ve changed my mind.” I don’t have to fake the quiver in my tone. “I didn’t sign on for all this, and I want out. You can get me out of Olympus, can’t you?”
She barely misses a beat. “Psyche? How lovely to hear from you. I’ll admit I’m surprised you’ve reached out.”
Damn it, I need this to move faster. I take a loud inhale. “I want out. You want me out. This serves both of us.”
“And here I thought you were in a love match with my son.” Her words drip acid.
“You know better.”
Aphrodite laughs. “Yes, I do. You bit off more than you can chew with Eros, but that’s neither here nor there. What are you proposing?”
“Meet me at… I don’t know, the gardens in the university district? If you can smuggle me out on the next shipment from the docks, you’ll never see me again.” The quiver in my voice gets stronger. “I didn’t sign on for this. I don’t want to die.”
“Of course not, sweet girl. No one wants to die.” She’s silent as she seems to consider this. “I was under the impression that you had no plans to leave the city.”
“It’s not exactly easy to leave Olympus,” I snap.
“Mm-hmm, that’s true enough.” Another pause. “I’ll get you out. Meet me in the gardens tonight.”
“No!” I realize I was too loud and silently curse myself. “Eros went out to run an errand. It has to be now. If I don’t leave before he gets back, he’ll keep me here.”
Aphrodite sighs. “Yes, my son is rather tenacious when he’s got his mind set on something. I suppose I can shift my plans for the day. I’ll meet you in the gardens in an hour.”
Barely long enough for me to get there with time to spare. I’m already moving to the door and yanking on my coat. “Okay. Thank you, Aphrodite.”
I can hear the evil smile in her voice. “Not a problem, dear. Mother knows best, after all.”
31
Eros
I’m not sure what someone is supposed to feel when they’re on their way to threaten and possibly kill their own mother. I feel nothing at all. Instead, I keep getting flashes of memories I thought long buried.
At eight, finding my mother crying on the couch. How she sobbed and told me the entire city was out to get her. I promised her that I would always protect her.
At thirteen, being able to perfectly detail all of my mother’s enemies, the ones she told me wanted her dead. I parroted their personal details and supposed sins back to her, and she smiled at me as if I was her favorite person in the world.
At seventeen, when my mother asked me to do her a favor, just a tiny little thing. It was so godsdamn easy to ask the right questions that led to the truth about Apollo and Daphne. And then she showered her attention on me like the summer sun.
At eighteen, the first time I told her I wouldn’t do what she asked. How quickly she withdrew her attention, her very presence, from me. How ruthlessly she punished me by withholding herself for days, weeks, until I finally buckled and did as she asked. My mother might be a monster, but she’s the only family I have. I wasn’t strong enough to withstand her icing me out. I had no one else.
At twenty-one, when I realized the lesson I should have years earlier: she doesn’t really love me. I doubt she’s actually capable of it. She sees me as a convenient tool to pick up and set down as the situation calls for it. All the soft moments, the tears, the hurt feelings, they were all weapons she wielded against me. Understanding that killed something in me, something I didn’t think I’d ever reclaim, not until I met Psyche.