Chapter 5 - Psyche

Eros whipped through the cool night air, still struggling to control his temper. His mother’s audacity had hit a new low.

He couldn’t believe she’d told him to marry a mortal. She knew how he felt about them since --. He couldn’t bring himself to even think her name. That scar had finally healed and he wasn’t about to tear it open again. Especially not over Psyche, a girl who apparently detested him on sight.

What he needed was a distraction. Something to keep his mind from circling back to the arc of attraction he’d felt when he touched Psyche that morning. Or the way just seeing someone as beautiful as her made him want to seal his heart up in a metal box. He wouldn’t let himself be hurt again. Ever.

Trimming his wings, Eros landed just outside a throbbing mass of people. Bacchus’ all-night party would certainly do as a distraction. In the midst of half-naked women who actually wanted him, he figured he’d drink himself stupid. And find someone who’d make him forget Psyche’s green eyes and how much they reminded him of ... her.

Pushing through a crowd of gossiping nymphs, Eros sidled up to Bacchus. As Eros hoped to be by the end of the night, Bacchus was draped in girls. He held a goblet of wine, sloshing its crimson contents to the ground.

“Bacchus, old friend,” Eros said, clapping the beefy immortal on the back, “looks like you started the party without me.”

Bacchus swung his wobbly head toward the voice and worked to squint Eros into focus. “Zou made it...” he slurred. “Have some wine!” Bacchus raised his glass and wine splashed onto the chest of the woman sitting to his right.

While Bacchus made a mess of helping the lady dry her toga, a reveler whisked over and placed a goblet in Eros’s hand. He downed the wine in one long drink.

“Here, let me get that for you.” Eros turned to find a nymph he’d known for years refilling his glass.

“Kalliste!” Eros threw an arm around the nymph. “Good to see you again.”

“You too, Eros.” Her auburn hair sparkling in the torchlight was almost as captivating as her smile.

Eros leaned closer to Kalliste and lowered his voice. “Since when did you become one of Bacchus’s followers? I didn’t think you liked this sort of thing.” He nodded his head in the direction of a group of swirling women.

“A girl has a right to change.” Kalliste brushed her bangs off her forehead. “Probably a lot has changed about me since I saw you last.”

“Do tell,” Eros replied, finishing off his wine and raising his cup for another refill.

“Maybe. First I want to know about Eros. Have you changed any?” Kalliste asked as she poured.

Eros raised an eyebrow. “Me? Why should I change?” He bumped her shoulder with his. “I’m pretty perfect as is, don’t ya think?”

“Mmmm...” Kalliste ran her hand up to his shoulder. “You are a treat for the eyes, but you’re murder on the heart.”

Eros laughed and threw back another gulp of wine. “Me? You don’t know the half of it.” He’d seen murder on the heart, but it wasn’t his doing.

Kalliste narrowed her eyes as she leaned in to hiss in his ear. “You’ve got to stop with the arrows, okay? I know you’ve been laying low for a few weeks, but Zeus sent me to confirm that you’re done. He’s serious this time. No more mortals for him.”

No more mortals for anyone, if Eros had any say in the matter.

“And you need to make things up to Hera,” Kalliste continued. “You’ve been quite the homewrecker.”

Eros let his head fall forward. He wished he weren’t having this conversation tonight. Or ever.

“What does she want?” he groaned.

Kalliste laid her arm over Eros’s shoulder. “Just let some nice goddess make an honest man out of you. You know how she is about family. Settle down, stop sending her husband chasing after mortal girls, and all will be forgiven.”

Talk about a joke. Zeus has been chasing women since long before Eros was born. But what could he say to the little messenger-nymph that wouldn’t make it back to the Olympian rulers? Nothing.

Eros snatched the jug of wine and refilled his glass. “You know, Kalliste? You’re the second person today who’s tried to set me up.”

Kalliste’s lips twisted into a pout. “Oh. Did someone else already talk to you about Iris then?”

Eros about spat out his wine. “Iris? That multi-colored freak show? Gods, that’s almost worse than a mortal.”

Kalliste bumped her knuckles into his shoulder. “Don’t be an ass. It was Hera’s idea.” When Eros didn’t respond, she added, “She’d really like to see you settled down.”

“Yeah, well, so would my mom.” He threw back another gulp of wine. “People are going to have to learn to deal with disappointment.”

Kalliste’s face paled as her gaze locked on something behind Eros.

“What?” he asked, turning.

Aphrodite was so close, he had to stumble back so he didn’t step on her. “Disappointment is a bit of an understatement, don’t you think?”

“Not here,” he said. “I’m not talking about this tonight. With either of you,” he added, glaring back at Kalliste.

Aphrodite’s eyes cut to the nymph as she spun her son in the opposite direction. “You’ll excuse us.”

“I said not now.” Eros jerked his arm loose from her grip and stopped. “I don’t care what you say, I’m not marrying a mortal, okay?”

Aphrodite leveled her intense blue eyes at him. “Okay.”

Um, what? Eros rolled his shoulders and tucked his wings back into place. “So why’re you here?”

“It’s painfully obvious that there’s not much I can do to you for refusing my arrangement. She, on the other hand, is a different story.”

“And you came here to tell me that?”

Aphrodite snatched the goblet from Eros’ hand and threw it to the ground. “No, I came here to tell you to take care of her punishment. She rejects my son? Fine. Make her fall in love with some dispicable and hideous mortal. I don’t care who, frankly. Just make sure he’s as awful to the women in his life as you are.”

***

A doorman peeked into the dining room as Eros was finishing breakfast. “My Lord, Aphrodite sends word that she’s gone to holiday at sea. She said to make sure you do your job quickly so she won’t have to be bothered with the details.”

Eros’s fork clattered onto his plate. He slammed his eyes shut as the noise echoed inside his brain like cymbals. Damn. After three days’ worth of festivities, he’d forgotten his mother had made him her do-boy again. What was it she wanted?

His brain felt like pulp. Something about Psyche, he remembered that much. And not having to marry her. That news alone justified his three-day bender. His stomach settled as the memories pushed their way forward.

“Will there be anything else, Sire?”

Eros wiped at his mouth with a napkin. “See that no one comes in. Apparently I have work to do.”

As the man scurried away, Eros took a last gulp of ambrosia and headed for the courtyard. But his mutinous feet didn’t want to make the trip. Psyche’s emerald eyes flashed in his brain -- so full of fire and life. Granted, he wanted nothing to do with her and the inevitable heartbreak she’d bring. But he sort of hated thinking he’d be the one who’d drown out her spark.

When had using his arrows gotten so messed up? He longed for those early, innocent years, when his arrows did only one thing: make people who were supposed to be in love stay that way. Still, what choice did he have? If he didn’t give his mother what she wanted, no telling what retribution she’d plan.

Convincing his body to finally budge, Eros made his way into the courtyard and reclined against a golden bench. He leaned back and focused on an empty patch of wall. The Greek landscape flickered behind his eyes, his second sight honing in.

The spinning visions made him nauseous. How much wine did I drink? He took deep breaths to keep his breakfast down and tried to think about who he ought to be looking for. Random searching when he felt like a weak-kneed sailor was clearly not in his best interests.

Maybe a Cyclops? No, he’d probably crunch her bones into tiny pieces. As cruel as he knew her beauty could be if he ever got close, death wasn’t a sentence he wanted to impose. And fortunately wasn’t what he’d been tasked with.

How about Argus? Eros bet she couldn’t find a way to break his heart with 100 eyes staring back at her. Not that he really liked the idea of her being perpetually creeped out, but she’d get used to it. Argus wasn’t a bad option really. Not mean, just gross. Aphrodite would probably be satsified with that.

But that option was out too. The eyeball-endowed man was serving as a watchman for Hera. Good call on that one, actually. But that meant he was too close to the gods to be wretched enough for his mother’s purposes.

Groaning, Eros let his head fall back against the bench. He’d use the arrows like he’d been ordered. But didn’t his mother realize that just thinking about her was starting to peel back the wound? Why’d he have to find the target too? Oh yeah, because Aphrodite clearly didn’t want to be bothered with the details. As long as she was on “holiday at sea,” as his doorman had annouced, she wouldn’t be able to use her second sight even if she wanted to.

How convenient for her.

Eros ran his fingers through his tangled hair. Something sticky caught in them and the nausea resurfaced. He didn’t even want to know. Thank the gods there were no mirrors in the courtyard. He probably looked scraggly enough to be the groom himself.

Now there’s an idea, he thought. Someone who looks (and feels) as bad as he did right now.

He knew exactly what he was looking for then. There’d been a rumor spreading about it during the parties, and sure enough. The uproar projected into his brain, leading his vision easily to the target.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the blank wall, not seeing the stone at all. The scene unfurled just as he’d hoped. A mob was chanting. “We must end the drought! Cast the Pharmakos out!” Faces were twisted in angry snarls; the victim was jostled forward on the arms of his captors.

Swallowing back the lump in his throat, he told himself this was the right call. Aphrodite asked for hideous and the Pharmakos qualified. But after delving into the man for a moment, Eros picked up on a few positive traits too. He wasn’t harsh; he didn’t have a sharp tongue; and Eros was pretty sure he’d worship the ground Psyche walked on.

He didn’t know why, maybe just the lingering affection he felt for her, but Eros really didn’t wish Psyche ill. He knew his mother was overreacting, as she’d done a hundred times before. But she always got her way. If he didn’t impose the sentence, Aphrodite would find a way to make it even worse.

For both of them.

Realizing he was out of options, Eros settled on his choice. He could condemn Psyche to life as a vagabond if the person holding her hand would be her partner through it all. Deep down, it’s what his nature drew him to do - make good matches - not call on his talents in revenge.

Here’s hoping the pairing is something everyone could live with.

Chapter end