New Olympus Trilogy: Teenage Goddess Teenage Star Hell on Earth (19 page)

It is late, almost midnight. I lean back against Hell’s warm shoulder, enjoying his closeness and strong heartbeat, and the way his left hand absently massages my neck.

Our love may be doomed, but I’m determined to enjoy it while it lasts.

“Mmh – this is nice,” I mumble. “Could you stop your heartbeat if you want?”

“For you, anytime.”
I cannot see his face in this position, but from his voice I can tell he is smiling. The heart stops beating, though breath still passes in and out of Hell’s chest.

After a couple of seconds I feel an irrational spurt of alarm.

“Make it beat again,” I say, vehemently. His heart resumes its beat, strong and regular.

“How did that feel?”

“Normal. I didn’t notice any difference.”

Of course he wouldn’t. Hell could turn himself to an ice pillar or a tree and say afterwards that he felt normal. Then again, his definition of “normal” is somewhat different from mine.

Hell is not supposed to be in my room at this hour – at any hour, really – since we are students in a boarding school and boys sleep in the other wing. There are several locked doors between his bedroom and mine, but they mean nothing to Hell. Lately he’s taken to visiting me for an hour or so before we sleep, popping in around eleven o’clock. Mostly we just talk – about everything and anything. Sometimes we talk in my native Spanish, other nights, like now, in English. We have been discussing my ambition to manage a wild life reservation when I finish my education with degrees in biology and zoology; Hell teased me that I’d better study fast or there might not be anything left to preserve.

We have kissed and touched, but no more. I’m not sure how much longer this abstinence will continue, but neither of us is putting pressure on the other.

Though it’s hard to remember, I try to keep in mind that Hell is only fourteen. When he joined the school in September – it is early December now – he was actually shorter than I, and I’m the runt of the class. Since then he has added some height, and now is nearly an inch taller. His shoulders have also broadened to their current, convenient size. None of the other students or faculty have noticed this growth spurt, which occurred overnight during an excursion to Atlanta.

I inhale his pleasant, warm fragrance, and relax. “This is nice,” I repeat. “I could almost forgive Uncle Hector.”

“Who is he? What does he have to do with us?”

“He’s the reason I’m here with you. The reason I was sent to a boarding school in Colorado, the only Colombian in the whole place.”

“How come?” Hell is interested in everything. I have told him many things about my family – well, about my parents and my three older brothers and my beloved
abuela
– but there are darker sides to our family history, which I try to forget whenever I can. But I don’t need to keep secrets from Hell.

“Hector is my grandmother’s younger brother, so he’s actually a great-uncle. He owns this huge mansion in Bogotá, and a large country estate. He is also a Senator, ultra-right and reactionary.” Hell and I are on the same page where politics are concerned: we both abhor meanness and greed, qualities my great-uncle Hector possesses in great abundance. “Hector made a lot of enemies, and was responsible for a number of activists being killed and tortured.” I am trying to sound dispassionate. “Then a revolutionary group murdered his pregnant daughter-in-law, Rosario. I was flower girl at her wedding, just a year before her murder. She was a lovely person.”

“How old were you?”

“Oh – five at the time of the wedding, six when she was killed.
In other words, it all happened about ten years ago.”

Hell says nothing right away, but I know he’s frowning. After a few seconds he asks, “And how did that lead to your coming here?”

I stir involuntarily. Hell begins to stroke the nape of my neck again, the way you’d calm a nervous dog. I sigh.

“There were recurrent kidnapping threats – my parents thought this place safer for me.”

Hell has gone rigid behind me. “
Kidnapping threats?
Against you specifically?”

“Yes. Well, more than just threats actually, there was one attempt to catch me when I went shopping with Mom at a mall. I was even smaller and thinner at eleven,” I recall, “and managed to wriggle under our car, yelling for all I was worth. The two hired punks gave up when this drew too much attention, and ran away. One of them later was caught, but did not know who had ordered the crime. We never knew if it happened in retaliation for Uncle Hector’s actions, or just for ransom.”

Hell’s heart-beat has sped up. “And you’ll be back there in just three days?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be surrounded by an army of bodyguards. And if they do manage to snatch me this time, I’ll expect you to come and get me out. There has to be some advantage to being
Superboy’s girlfriend.”

Hell hates it when I call him
Superboy. We often discuss the best ways for him to use his extraordinary powers, and have looked at the example of Superman and other Comics heroes to explore some of the possibilities. I suppose I am in a position similar to Lois Lane, but she, poor girl, didn’t realise who Superman was, while I’m fully in Hell’s confidence. I would not want to change with her for anything.

“You are so fragile, so – mortal,” Hell worries. “I don’t like it. Can you bring a date to this event?”

“If I were a bit older, and not still attending school – if you were older than fourteen – if there was more than three days to go until Grandmother’s birthday, and all the rooms assigned ...”

“I can look older, or I could go as someone else, maybe as one of the bodyguards.”

“Don’t you have your own plans? You told me you were going to work on an important project with Pallas Athena.”

“She’d understand I had to protect you first.”

“My parents would not put me at risk, and it was years and years ago that they tried to snatch me. Chill, please, this is just an ordinary trip back home. I do miss my country, you know.”

“I understand.” Hell presses a kiss on my shoulder. “Your lids are drooping. I’d better let you catch some sleep. But we must talk further about this.”

“Okay,” I slur, and then sleep comes over me, as I find myself alone in my bed.

I dream that I’m imprisoned in a dark, dank cavern, alone and helpless, with no prospect of rescue. In the dream I blunder through the darkness, hands out in front to feel any obstacle, but nothing happens as I go on and on. The silence is menacing and I know there is no exit anywhere. My heart is pounding and cold sweat runs down my back. I jerk awake with a small gasp.

What on earth caused this nightmare? I am safe in my bed at school. Talking about that half-forgotten kidnapping attempt must have disturbed me more than I was aware. Surely whoever was behind it has long moved on to different victims, different crimes, or is languishing in prison by now. I am nothing special in any way. There cannot be any reason why they would still be interested in capturing me.

But it takes me a long time to fall asleep again.

While Melinda slept, Hell paid one of his irregular visits to New Olympus. Its cleaner air and spaciousness were a relief after the crowded school. This realm was only inhabited by the ancient Greek gods, and a small number of human retainers.

Looking around at the pristine cliffs and beach where he’d played in his childhood, Hell wondered how the place would look if more people were allowed to immigrate. People like Melinda, specifically, but others too… It might do the divine inhabitants of this exile good to be confronted with human problems again, at least once in a while. Their long isolation had led to complacency and contempt for humanity, understandable enough since humanity had also turned its back on them.

As often before Hell wondered why his sister Myra and he had been born after all those empty centuries. There had to be some need for their existence. Among the gods nothing happened without reason.

“Hello, cousin,” a handsome teenager accosted him with a guileless smile. Hell was not fooled; Eros was most dangerous when he tried to look harmless.

“Hello,” Hell replied without enthusiasm. “How is Psyche?”

“Fine,” Eros replied with a shrug. “Why ask, how could any of us be other than fine up here?”

“You sound bored. Why are you here, then, instead of earth? There are so many humans now, you could shoot them with your arrows night and day and hardly make a dent.”

Eros’ eyes flashed. “Little hypocrite. Your own father keeps us bottled up here, and restricts visits to earth. Two days per moon – but then of course you, his favourite child, are exempt!”

“I thought it was one week per moon?”

Eros grimaced. Hell guessed that Zeus had reduced Eros’s time on Earth as punishment for shooting his dart at Jason, Myra’s boyfriend, to win a bet.

Eros was not done. “One day, one week, what’s the difference? Why should a God be restricted at all, the way you are down there in that boring school? At our age we should be way beyond that.”

Hell felt a pang of sympathy. For a being over two thousand years old and married to a beautiful and clever woman, to still be given detention had to suck.

“I can try to talk to Father,” he offered, “but you know how likely that is to help. Myra and I are mere infants compared to anyone else in the family.”

“If Zeus thought of you like that, he wouldn’t allow you to stay on Earth unsupervised,” Eros pointed out. “Do talk to him. If it does not help, it won’t hurt. Any sort of change or break in the routine would be more than welcome. Psyche and most of the others feel like I do, you know.”

“Bored with unemployment? I get it. But there are plenty of issues that could keep us busy, if we took a stronger interest in contemporary humans. They aren’t doing too well without us. Have you seen Argus, by any chance? I have a job for him.”

“Lucky Argus,” Eros said, not quite sarcastically, and vanished.

Argus must have been watching the scene, for he popped into existence just a moment later. His monstrous body and hundred eyes were so familiar to Hell that he didn’t blink, though he wondered how Melinda would have reacted to the sight. Argus had been killed by Hermes long ago but later resurrected by Hera, Hell’s mother, who always had a use for such a vigilant guardian.

“Hello, youngster,” Argus drawled.

“Argus,” Hell said. “I would be most grateful for a favour, if you have the time.”

Argus gave a rumbling laugh.
“Time? Time is all I have. Too much of it on my hands, as Eros just told you.”

“Yes, well, have you been watching me down on Earth? I suspect Mother would have wanted you to keep an eye on me, after what happened to Myra.”

“Myra did not have her divine powers,” Argus said. “You have, and from what I’ve seen, can take care of yourself. I do check on you about once a day, at her request, but if I see you with your lover I look away.”

“Thanks. She’s not my lover, it’s called a girlfriend these days,” Hell corrected. “If you respect our privacy, you won’t have heard that she might be in danger.” He described the ancient kidnapping threats hanging about Melinda’s head. “I would appreciate your keeping an eye on her during the holidays, when she goes back to Colombia for her Grandmother’s birthday celebration three days from now. You can do that from up here. If you see any danger, please alert me right away.”

“A mere human girl?” Argus shook his head. “I will do it, but remember how short-lived these humans are. One more or less is hardly important.”

“She’s very important to me. Especially because they are so fragile and short-lived, she needs all the protection she can get.”

“Very well. But don’t make a habit of it. I have only the hundred eyes. And I’m already looking after your sister’s ex-boyfriend.” Argus faded out of existence, and Hell, his heart a little lighter, walked up the cliff path to his parents’ palace. He might as well pay his respects and look in on Myra before darting back to school. Unlike the humans there he needed no sleep.

But he’d better not linger too long; he had not yet got around to his French homework.

The next morning, Hell is distant, distracted. I wonder if he is still thinking about the threats I have mentioned, but we are kept busy in class, and have no chance to talk.

Anyway it’s probably something quite different he’s thinking about. Why would a young god would be distracted because of me – plain Melinda, a rich but utterly ordinary girl, not half as pretty as the class average here in the
Rockview Academy? It is a miracle we have become close at all. I tell myself that the two-week break from each other over Christmas is a good thing; I desperately need to gain perspective on this relationship, before the Melinda I used to be completely disappears. As it is, I think of Hell all the time. That cannot be safe for my happiness and sanity.

There is nobody in whom I could confide, or whom I could ask for advice. As a foreigner I have been an outsider from the start. It was not as uncomfortable as it could have been, since the clique around
Christabel, the former leader of the class, was too self-absorbed to bother much with me. I also played on their prejudices by letting them think that my family had dangerous mafia connections. They never quite knew what to make of me.

Just now the ordinary pecking order is in disarray.
Christabel has left school under a cloud of disgrace, after she confessed to trying to murder my friend Myra, Hell’s older sister. Only the fact that Myra’s body was never found has kept her out of prison.

People still wonder why Myra’s parents never showed up at the school, and why Hell seems so undisturbed by his sibling’s tragic disappearance. Her boyfriend, Jason, was completely distraught, at least right after it happened. Of all the humans in the school, only I know the truth: Myra is alive and well in the Gods’ home, New Olympus.

“Why and when did the USA enter the Second World War, Miss Garcia Lobos?

Tearing myself from my gloomy reflections I answer the teacher’s question. History interests me, so I manage reasonably well. Hell gives me an encouraging look from where he sits three desks over.

The teacher turns to another student and asks something about Roosevelt. I tune out the halting reply.

Christabel’s
desk is still empty. Jason is present in class for once, but looks as though his thoughts are a thousand miles away. He told Hell and me he probably won’t return here after the Christmas holidays, and I cannot blame him.

The class finds my relationship to Hell hard to understand. There have been a few snide remarks about baby-snatching.
Christabel’s former friends tell me straight out that having a boyfriend two years younger is the very opposite of cool.

If they knew the truth, that he’s a powerful immortal and can be any age he likes, they’d envy me instead. But it’s not all good; Hell will not age at all once he reaches adulthood. In just a few years I’ll look older than he will. That’s why I prefer not to think long-term, and to live in the now, to enjoy every day we are together, like we have no yesterday and no tomorrow.

At long last, the history lesson ends. Books and notebooks are shuffled. I stand up and stretch. Sitting so long is not easy for me. If I could, I’d be moving all the time.

Hell starts to come over during the short break, but is interrupted by Martin, the captain of the football team. Martin wants to recruit him again, I suppose; Hell is faster than humans, and refuses to take part in sports where he’d have an unfair advantage. But he can hardly say so to Martin. I smile at Hell across the desks, to show I understand. No way am I going to be clingy and needy.

The lunch break is the first longer period we get to be together, but a bunch of others are at the same table. I can hardly get in a word. As I listlessly chew the poorly seasoned chicken, I wonder why Hell, the youngest in our class and arguably a nerd, is so much more popular than his sensible and pretty sister was, before her disappearance. We all discuss Christmas plans. Hell winks at me. 

For the first time in my life, I wish the Christmas holidays were already over. I have a bad feeling, even though I will see my
abuela
again at long last.

That evening we have a party. I dance mostly with Hell. If he had not told me, I’d never guess this kind of dance was new to him before he joined the school last September. He does everything he tries superbly from the get-go. Enough to make a mere human feel inferior. I tread on his foot twice during the faster numbers, and though he does not seem to mind, it is like a small shadow on my happiness. No matter how much I try I will never be able to approach his perfection. Let alone his brains which intimidate half of the teaching staff, and all of the students who are even capable of appreciating them properly.

I sigh.

“Is anything the matter, Mel?” Hell asks immediately, tightening his grip on my waist a tiny bit. “Tell me.”

“No, nothing,” I say, unwilling to confess my doubts. Nothing is more tedious than having to constantly reassure another person. “That is, I’m a little uneasy, but for no reason at all.”

He does not laugh my words away. “I hope it’s not a premonition,” he says seriously. “Sensitive humans get them often, although according to Pallas most brush them away as fancies.”

“I’m not sensitive,” I immediately object. Really!