Desperate Housewives of Olympus (3 page)

Persephone had been tempted on more than one occasion to ask Eros to shoot someone for her mother so Demeter would have someone else’s life to meddle in besides hers. But she wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone.

He was bringing her an untraceable cell phone tonight for her help with this latest poem and she was going to call Hades. She wouldn’t blame dark god if he never wanted to speak to her again, but Persephone had to try. She refused to go the rest of eternity without him.

NYX

Nyx was looking forward to her afternoon at Jean Pierre’s with Hera. It had been an age since they’d taken a girl’s day and went shopping or had their hair done. A quick pomegranate salad here or a coffee there, no time to get to the meat of what was going on in either of their lives.

She pulled the blanket of night around her and sighed. There was a new goddess on Olympus and no doubt Zeus had already tried to dip his thunderbolt into her cumulous places. Why Hera didn’t divorce him, she’d never know. It’s not like she wouldn’t be Queen of the Gods any longer. That title was hers until she croaked or chose to pass it on.

Unless she had hatched some evil plan to make him pay and Nyx could definitely be on board for that. In fact, she’d captain that ship with certain glee. Zeus had been dicksmacking the goddesses of Olympus for long enough. It was time for him to pay the piper.

Nyx teleported to Jean Pierre’s and was surprised to see Hera was already there. The pretty goddess already had a white towel wrapped around her hair and the Frenchman behind her in the tight leather pants was cooing happily. One dark tendril hung from the towel and Nyx looked at her questioningly. Hera was a redhead—or she had been until this recent visit to Jean Pierre.

“What did you do?” Nyx asked with a giggle.

“Something crazy, sugarbabe.”

“How crazy?” Nyx bit her lip.

Hera grinned and whipped the towel from her head. Her signature waist-length red locks had been cut to her shoulder blades and they were as black as the night Nyx draped over the mortal world until the last two inches of her ends. Those were royal purple. Hera made a kissy face and suddenly, her lips matched her ends.

“
Non!
You promised!” Jean Pierre cried.

“But I like it,” Hera wheedled.

His gaze slid to Nyx. “Only if
you
make it up to me.”

“Me? She’s the one wearing the purple,” Nyx pointed to Hera.

He narrowed his eyes with contempt and Nyx shrugged. “What is it you want?”

“I will color no more hair today. But I could be persuaded to take color off.”

“Oh no. Not a chance, JP.”

He cringed. “Now, it is a must. No one ever calls me JP. You know better, Nyx.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “How is it you always get your way? We’re goddesses and you’re… you.”

“Because I
am
me,
mon cherie
. And I am French.” Jean Pierre eyed her hair with a satisfied expression.

“If this goes bad, I blame you.” Nyx looked to Hera. “I can’t believe you started without me.”

“I’m sorry, I knew if I didn’t do it I’d lose my nerve. Now I
have
to wear something besides the toga, or my hair won’t look right.” Hera leaned back as one of Jean Pierre’s assistants began massaging her hands and dropped a warm towel on her face.

The good thing about immortal make-up, it tended to be water and steam proof. It was really more the experience of having the facial than any of the post-treatment benefits.

Nyx couldn’t believe she was going to let Jean Pierre take the color off of her hair. She’d feel positively naked. Her tresses hadn’t been without Midnight Number One since 1920. Without it, her hair was silver. Not gray or blue steel like what some older mortal women were saddled with, but pure silver. Like moonlight, her lovers had told her.

Nyx still thought it made her look old.

As the warmth began to spray over her hair and slip down the drain; the armor of color with it, Nyx tried to relax. “The things I do for you, hooker,” she grumbled.

“But you love me.”

“Of course I do. Though, I will love you considerably less if you don’t open that sexy purple mouth and tell me all about whatever devious devices you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“I’m going to fuck the Cerberus loving hell out of Hades.”

“You are NOT. Are you? Oh my gods.” Nyx giggled. “That will serve blondie right. He’s treated you like refried Minotaur crap for long enough. He’s lucky if that’s all you do.”

Good. She was happy to see her friend taking a stand against her cock-led husband. Nyx’s first husband, Nod had been a right bastard too and Nyx had sent him packing without a second thought. He’d pleaded with her come back right up until the day he died. Nyx had cared for him in his end days because she’d never stopped loving him and he’d given her two beautiful sons, but she’d held firm. It warmed her heart sometimes to see her sons smile his smile, or laugh the way Nod had before he’d turned into such a cock, but it made her even happier to know at their cores, they were nothing like him.

“Jean Pierre, I must swear you to secrecy,” Hera said earnestly.

“I will tell them nothing!” he swore vehemently.

And he wouldn’t. Hera would erase it from his memory as soon as they left. She’d known Jean Pierre for a long time, but she wasn’t stupid.

“Well, you know I’m going to do Hades like he’s
never
been done before. But I’m a kingmaker, Nyx. I made Zeus who he is and I can unmake him too. Forget alimony, he can rot in Tartarus while Hades wears his crown.”

Oh, this was more serious than she thought. “You can’t just…you know…leave him? Why do you have to do the whole bloody insurrection thing?”

“You won’t support me?” Hera asked in a quiet, disbelieving tone.

“Don’t be a dumbass. Of course I’ll support you. It’s just, if you don’t do this very carefully heads will roll, Hera. One of them will be yours. Remember the last time someone tried a little bite of mutiny cake? Zeus is paranoid as a meth head when it comes to his rule.”

“I know. That’s why everything will be done under the cover of night. In your realm, where he can’t look unless you allow him.”

“Oh, that’s going to go over like a steaming pile of Cyclops shit. He comes to me and demands to see, what do I tell him? Uh, hell no?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Her recently waxed and shaped brows came together over her bright eyes in consternation.

“Hello? Am I the
only
one who remembers Prometheus?” Being chained to a rock and having an eagle rip out her still-beating heart from her chest every day for eternity didn’t look like it would fit anywhere in her schedule. She hoped to be a grandma one day.

“No, of course not. He can’t do that to me, though. I’m the Queen,” Hera said in a haughty tone. “He can’t do it to you, either. You’re technically a titan.”

“Technically, but you know what happens when he gets a little bitch in his kitty. There will be smiting and what turned out to be a simple matter between an unfaithful husband and his paragon of a wife will turn in to Armageddon.”

“Not if it’s handled with a bit of finesse.”

“Does Hades even
want
to rule the gods?”

Hera sat straight up as if the possibility he may not want the throne had never occurred to her and Nyx was three bricks shy of a load for even bringing it up. “Why wouldn’t he?” She blinked like a velociraptor contemplating which small mammal to eat first.

“Maybe he’s accepted his lot in the universe and has found some peace,” Nyx said, showing the wisdom that came with her great age.

“And maybe little green pigs with wings are going to crawl out of my ass and sing
Fly Me to the Moon
,” Hera snorted.

“They might.” Nyx nodded sagely. She’d been around the block a couple more times than Hera had, but Nyx was as old as dirt. Literally. She’d seen a few things and liked to think she knew a little bit about godly nature. Mortals she’d never understand, they were taught the same lessons over and over again, but never seemed to learn anything until it was too late. Gods were different. Or perhaps she was a bit myopic when it came to the whole thing. Still, she didn’t see Hades as burning to take the reins of leadership from Zeus. He probably could have done it himself if he’d wanted it; he didn’t need to wait on Hera to come down and offer it to him like a virgin sacrifice.

Nyx knew better than to say anything else. Hera was the kind of creature who learned by doing, not telling. Hades would have to tell her straight out that he didn’t want it before Hera would believe it even to be possible. She’d plotted her course of action, drawn up her battle plan and nothing would get in her way once she started marching. Even Hades. Before it was all said and done, Hera would get what she wanted. She’d have Hades agreeing to dress in a glitter tutu and dance to Swan Lake if it would get her off his back. She was cool like that. Hera had even nagged Zeus into a few things. It had taken a century of picking at him like a scab, but eventually, he’d caved. Nyx wondered why she hadn’t done that with the cheating, but she didn’t ask. Hera and Zeus’ relationship belonged to them alone and they were the ones who had live within the confines they’d set for themselves. Not anyone else. So it really wasn’t anyone else’s business unless Hera made it such. That was something else Nyx had learned in her long existence, not to poke her nose into things that were best left alone. She also wondered when, if ever, Hera was going to learn that lesson. She just knew this was going to end badly.

“Puh-lease, girlfriend. He’s sitting down there all dark and broody thinking about the unfairness of it all. And I’m going to make it all better. There’s nothing a good piece of Hera can’t fix.”

“Whoa. I can’t believe you went there.” Nyx wasn’t used to this Hera who said whatever happened to drop from her brain to the tip of her tongue. Usually, she had to nag and prod to get to the crux of whatever was on her friend’s mind. Maybe this was good for Hera—maybe not so healthy for Nyx, she thought as she considered Prometheus’ plight again.

Hera slapped a hand to her mouth and stifled a laugh. “I can’t believe I did either. See, the new hair is already doing its job. After this, we’re going shopping. I want something with leather and a corset.”

“Don’t forget the hooker boots. Although, they are super tough to get off if
you’re
trying to um… get off, if you get my meaning.” Nyx winked.

Hera squeaked with laughter and allowed the assistant to begin working on her pedicure. “How would you know this, St. Nyx? I thought your wild days were centuries behind you.”

“Perish the thought, sister. I am more likely to have a one night stand than a relationship at this point. Who needs entanglements and grief? Certainly not me.”

“Who was the last one?”

Nyx gave her a sardonic look.

“Come on. Tell. I told you my plans for world domination. I thought this was a give and take relationship?” Hera sing-songed and shifted in her chair.

“Fine. It wasn’t a god though,” she warned.

“Whatever. A mortal. Fine. Spill.” She motioned impatiently with her hand that Nyx should get to the telling sooner rather than later.

“I didn’t say it was mortal. I said it wasn’t a god.”

“Then what?” she began, waiting for Nyx to fill in her story.

“Athena.”

Hera squeaked again.

“Stop that, you sound like an orgasmic chicken.”

“But
Athena
?”

“What’s wrong with her?” Nyx narrowed her eyes.

“Aside from the fact it’s a
her
? Nothing.”

“Oh, you mean to tell me that after millennia of existence, you’ve never…” Nyx was incredulous.

“No.” Hera blushed.

“Why not?”

“No one—,” she shrugged and broke off.

“You should have Athena over. She’s really very sweet and has the good grace not to be weird in the morning.”

“Zeus always asked me if I would with one of his mortal lovers, but I was always too jealous of them to try and he stopped asking.”

“Yeah, well, he was a dick to already be putting it to them and
then
ask the wife to join. No class.” Nyx shook her head.

“Absolutely none,” Jean Pierre interrupted. “He doesn’t even have the courtesy to give a reach around when he comes in for my
signature
massage.”

Hera and Nyx both burst into laughter.

DEMETER

Demeter had a secret.

Like all secrets, it gnawed mercilessly at her gut, trying to get out. A trapped rat, willing to chew through anything to get free. It was stronger than most because it was a secret fueled by hatred so deep and pure, it was acid.

Demeter
hated
her daughter.

She hadn’t thrown the bitch goddess of doom fit and plunged the world into unending winter because Hades had stolen her daughter. No. It was because Hades had taken
Demeter’s
life. As the earth goddess, Demeter had a life cycle. She wasn’t simply unchanging and enduring; a forever being like the rest of them. Even though she’d hidden it well.

When Persephone fell in love, Demeter’s life would enter the long, cold winter before oblivion. From that love, Persephone would grow ripe and bear the fruit of life and when that life took its first breath, Demeter would die and Persephone would become the Goddess of Fertility and Spring in her place.

During Persephone’s time with Hades, Demeter had grown sick and weak; her body failing though her will was strong. She’d know the second the first tender shoots of love had thrust out of the soil of her daughter’s innocent heart.

Getting rid of mortal seed was easy, so Demeter had only ever had relations with her priests. Or so she’d thought. Zeus had wanted her for as long as she could remember—wanted her all the more because she’d said no. He’d disguised himself as an initiate and had pleasured her well. It wasn’t until her thighs were wrapped around his waist and he was spilling his god-seed inside of her that she recognized him for who he was. Her murderer.

Some would say Demeter had been given enough; she should take joy in the cycle of life and be glad her daughter would know a love of her own, motherhood. Demeter would have to disagree. She’d never wanted a child, didn’t take joy in the small, chubby fingers entwined with hers, the exultation in watching her run with glee through the endless fields of flowers in Elysium and laugh when the sprites danced on the end of her nose. Those first toddling steps behind her hadn’t moved Demeter to anything akin to motherly pride, but rage.