Dionysus (Greek God Romance Book 1) (20 page)

Ages later, the Catacombs came to be where the “dead” would be sent, an underground entrance at each major city in Europe, at the time. I found out that the sacrifices remained. The Minotaur lived. And Hera had hurt me worse than if she had been able to kill me.

And so, I remain in a constant flux of drunkenness to gnaw at what that bitch has done to me and my soul.

MINOTAUR

Hera entered through the Roman Catacombs. It was the only direct path to the center of the “New Labyrinth,” located between Italy and Greece.

She navigated the area with a torch that would never blow out. She frowned as bones crunched underfoot, while she gripped fallen stone pillars and trampled over decrepit coffins. She moved forward until reaching an alcove that used to be a church, the members all disappearing one by one, a mystery at the time—Hera knew the truth.

The Minotaur no longer had an established mealtime. He would be awoken by the scent of flesh and travel to that particular part of the Catacombs. His meals would come by as teenagers and adults who were foolish enough to explore the Catacombs.

She stood there seeing a statue of Mary with dust and a little bit of dried blood that had become black through age. The calling card of the beast, the Minotaur. She smirked. She grabbed the statue and reminisced on what she had accomplished, all those years ago driving Dionysus into misery’s clutches. The statue shattered under her grip, pieces dropping to the floor. She would make Dionysus pay for his existence once more, his
stain
on her own life, and one, that she could never rub it. At least. . . she had not found a way, as of yet.

A crucifix still hung on a nail, waiting to fall on the floor as it dangled by a few splinters. She pounded her feet on the stone ground, caked with dirt and dust and the bones and blood of the old patrons and any who found themselves here. The crucifix fell. She yelled, “Minotaur! Present yourself to me.”

In the Minotaur’s domain, he ruled supreme. He, at times, was a cat on the hunt, silence and stealth a part of his attributes. He growled her name behind her. “Hera.”

Hera was frightened momentarily, but she would never show that, not once. Not even when Zeus. . . she shook her head. She would not relive such nightmares. She returned his growl. “Minotaur.”

“What brings you to my
abode?
” He stressed the word, moving his hoofed hand in a sweeping motion—showing the decay and ruin the Labyrinth was in.

“Use.”

He snorted, smoke bellowing from his nostrils. “What use?” He stressed the “s,” and said, “You went back on our deal.”

Hera glowered. “
You
were provided sacrifices for millennia. Times have changed—such a thing cannot be arranged anymore.”

“Watch your tongue, goddess. You are in
my
domain. Your power is weak here.”

“I can have you roaming free.”

“Lies. More lies, more wood to the fire to be burned, to become ash with the other filth.”

“The magic that binds you here is old and from a time long forgotten. But I know where to find what is needed. . . then you may be free.”

She spoke of freedom from his bonds, this place that had become a prison to him. The Minotaur’s tone changed instantaneously. “What do you desire done?”

She presented her hand which showed a holographic image of Rebecca. “I want her killed and her body presented to Dionysus.”

The Minotaur chuckled. “You torture this god,
still?
”

Hera’s voice shook in rage. “
I
do as
I
see fit. He is no
god
. He is born of the filth that tramples
our
planet.”

The Minotaur had his suspicions, but Hera spoke with such conviction in her voice. He had nothing to lose, given the state of his dominion. “Very well, I am to not go back to the Labyrinth?”

“No.”

“What shall become of me?”

“You’ll be free.”

“I’ve seen the world through the eyes of my meals. It is not a world I can survive in. The humans have. . . power now.”

“What do you seek?”

“A new island. A new Labyrinth where I may sleep. Where I may return to the days of old.”

“I cannot arrange sacrifices—”

“You will. You must. If I aid you in this endeavor, and you do not deliver. . . The girl’s body will not be the last.”

“You
dare
threaten me?” A fire could be seen in her eyes.

The Minotaur’s red eyes matched her own. “I do not dare. I do. Gods may take me down, but you know as well as I do, that I can bring one of you with me.”

Hera had a curious look run across her face. She had to test a newly arrived thought. “You do not care for your life?”

He snorted, bellowing more smoke through his nostrils. “Do you call
this
living? I have to run and hunt and sometimes fail to capture my prey that enter here. I cannot sleep because I never have enough to hibernate. I am
barely
living. I am underneath all and forgotten. This is no life. I can do without it.”

Hera squinted. “How long have you waited for me?”

He chuckled, smoke spewing out of each nostril. “I knew you would come. If not you then another Olympian, the Olympians
always
have a plot towards one another.”

“You will know when the bond is broken then—”

“I
know
where Olympus resides now. I can smell it on you. I can smell
her.
I will take care of my part of the agreement. You can count the many
bones
that line this Labyrinth of mine if you wish to know my work. You, of all Olympians,
should
know my work.”

“Good.”

I AM HECATE, THE GODDESS OF MAGIC

The older Greek gods and goddesses, who weren’t Titans, lived on the peripheral of Olympus society.

Demeter lived in a garden where she kept flowers and plants that were extinct. She had an immense collection ranging from the birth of Earth to the Jurassic to now. It could be quite a dangerous place to live, and Demeter slept on a sleeping bag in the middle. Some of the other Greek gods and goddesses who weren’t Titans lived in this garden as well.

At the outer edge of this garden was a shack, an old raggedy thing that had an aged weather vane and sitting on top of that was a gold rooster that would crow—much like a living one—at dawn. The shack was comprised of rotten wood, the front door swayed in the wind and was held by one rusty hinge. The four windows around the shack had panes of broken glass, as if a teenager had thrown a rock through them.

A single source of light could be seen outside.

Hera knocked on the door. “Hecate.”

An old croak came within, “Go away.”

“I need to speak with you.”

“Go away.”

“I
am
Hera, the queen of the Olympians.”

“I am Hecate, the goddess of
magic.
”

“Hecate, I am stepping inside.”

“By all means.”

Although, the door swayed open. It was impossible to step inside. Hera could not manage to get any part of herself through the door. “Hecate!”

“Hera!”

“You
will
open this door, immediately.”

“I will not.”

“You
will
suffer my wrath.”

“I will not.”

Hera bellowed in rage and stormed off.

Hecate could be heard cackling in the background.

I MERELY CAME FOR CONVERSATION

Throughout history, Hera has only attempted to decimate Athena once and it went very awry. It almost cost Hera, her life but that story will not be told here. After that event, Hera used Athena’s wisdom to help her devious plans materialize and be executed. She had decided that the way to destroy Athena would be to present the culmination of all the heinous acts that Athena unwittingly helped Hera achieve. This would shatter her world, and Hera was pining for the day of her big reveal. The manipulation of her and Theseus that crushed Dionysus being one of the many successes; although, like all things in this world, there were many failures, as well.

Athena was reading a book when she looked up and found Hera standing over her—having no love for her, she snorted, looked away and continued reading the book.

“Athena.”

Athena closed the book, sighed. “Hera.”

“I merely came for conversation.”

“Merely? You
merely
do nothing.”

Hera nodded, pleased. “You are correct. I
always
do things to the fullest.”

“Of your ability.”

A clear stab that created a slight snarl from Hera. “The highest ability.”

Athena paced away, looking through the shelves for another book. “Go on then.”

“Why so displeased, step-daughter?”

She scoffed. “You hold no love for the step.”

“Wise, you always are.”

She sighed again, deeply and agitated. “Out with it.”

Hera waited for Athena to pace to the next bookshelf, which she knew she would, and inevitably did. This contained a volume on the old gods and goddesses.

“It’s a shame we were never able to wield the old magic.”

Athena’s eyes shifted as her hand hovered over the volume. “A shame.”

Hera restrained a smile. That was all she needed—the exact location of the volume in regards to the old gods and goddesses. It would be a simple snatch and grab for one of her followers. She would need to be swift for Athena had a relationship with Hecate and would suspect if that particular volume went missing. She also needed Athena to point out which book because when another god or his/her followers went into the Library of Wisdom; all books looked alike and were titled the same:

ATHENA’S

THE LIBRARY OF WISDOM

Hera sent her followers to watch the Library of Wisdom and wait for an opportunity.

When the opportunity came, the first follower reached for the book and took a one way trip to the Underworld. A portal opening underneath her feet. Hera suspecting a trap, had the followers go into the Library of Wisdom in twos. The second one grabbed the book that floated in the air and ran away. Hera waited outside, took the book and skimmed to the section she needed. It read as follows:

Hecate, goddess of sorcery

always vigilante

can be seen but once a year

her dear, Persephone, at her ear

on this day, the only day may someone see

of a lesser soul, one must be

those eyes privy to none

observe all and communicate none.

Hera closed the book and handed it to the follower. The frightened woman went inside, and as she placed the book back, the trap was reactivated and she was lost to the Underworld.

Hera waited only a minute, knowing what must’ve happened. She had a mad grin plastered on her face. Because, even though, her two followers were lost and would speak on what happened, it would be too late. Persephone was coming to the surface soon, and it all came together as if she had orchestrated this symphony. The Underworld worked in her favor this day because of the many gates that they had to pass through. The river of Styx, alone, was a three day process. And sometimes longer. . . depending on how the boatman was feeling that particular day—his pace could be quite lethargic.

She was immensely pleased with herself. But what she didn’t know, what the gods and goddesses and many chose to forget, is that
fate
loves a story.

IT IS TIME

An interesting fact on Olympus was that no one knew Hera’s ability. It had stayed out of the Greek mythology books, texts, tales and poems. Word of mouth carried nothing and no one ever witnessed it. Zeus thought her power was to be an endless pain in his ass. Everyone else thought, more or less, the same. . . in their own asses, respectively. She had kept this secret through the ages and very skillfully,
very
deftly used it when necessary.

Hera’s power was simple: She can see through the eyes of an animal. It was a source of immense hilarity to her that no one had pieced this together, especially her estranged husband. Before the ankle bracelet—a piece of technology she was endlessly thankful for—she thought that one day he would figure it out.
How could she have found him, every time he was unfaithful?
But he never did, he was too wrapped up in being caught and hiding another child that he never stopped to think about it. As far as Hera was concerned, he never stopped to think about anything.