CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
THE FIRST DREAM - PART TWO
First, Stella made the sirens put her wardrobe back up and tidy the rest of her bedroom. Then she sent them out to clean the smokehouse and to remove any other corpses that might be in the vicinity. They were to remove all traces of blood and trim the grass around the smokehouse. Stella didn’t want to see human blood smeared anywhere near her home or stumble upon any other nasty surprises. After that much was done, she sent Raidne and her sister Teles back to their cave. Something about them was detestable, but she, for some reason, didn’t feel that way about Sethos. It wasn’t that she liked him, but she could tolerate him and she needed his help if she was going to live comfortably.
Once they were alone, they were able to speak freely. “You see,” he said. “Stella and her family did not build this tower. They simply moved in. This tower was built one hundred and thirteen years ago by one of my mother’s old lovers. He couldn’t live in her cave with her because he was a human, so he chose to build this tower. It wasn’t easy, considering it is built entirely of stone and there isn’t exactly a place to cut stone on this island. He had every block brought in by boat and had his slaves put it together piece by piece.”
“That sounds romantic,” Stella said as she stepped out onto the southern balcony and looked out to sea.
Sethos swallowed something in his mouth. “Hmm... Slaves are still people and I don’t really like murder.”
“Are you saying your mother and her sister killed them?”
He nodded gravely.
“Aren’t you a murderer, like them?” she asked quietly, feeling a constriction in her throat.
“Not really. But if I’m to survive, I’ll have to go home to my mother regularly.”
“Why?”
“I don’t subsist on the same food you do, so I’ll need to go home to eat from time to time. I’ll spend all the rest of the time caring for your needs.”
“You don’t mind?” she asked.
He looked at her carefully, his brown eyes flashing wickedly. What was he thinking? Then he continued his story. “My mother says that her lover built this tower because it was his dream to spend his evenings trying to guess if my mother would fly in to visit him from the south or from the north. He wanted it to be a surprise and he loved watching her fly.”
“Was he your father?”
“No, but of all the stories my mother has told of her life, I like the one about this tower the best. I’ve always looked at it and thought that something good would come of it.”
“That’s strange.”
“So, I can have this room?” he asked.
“It’s yours. Now go chop firewood and I’ll find blankets for your bed.”
“Don’t do that!” he exclaimed, rushing to her side. “Don’t take care of me. I’ll take care of you. Until my body breaks, I’ll take care of you,” he said, and suddenly, his eyes didn’t look quite so hideous to her. In fact, he looked gentle. “I’m a siren, so I’m not fragile,” he said, bending down and kissing her hand.
Stella allowed it because she didn’t know what else to do. A shiver ran through her. She didn’t know why his respect moved her, but it touched her to her core.
***
Sethos was chopping firewood, and Stella was watching him through the window. He sang as he worked and everything that came out of his mouth sounded like the sky had merged with the sea and somehow produced glorious music. Stella would never have imagined such harmony could exist in one voice. Actually, his speaking voice was lovely too, deep and full of feeling. When he sang, he sang of powerful emotions: of long lost loves, bitter regrets, loneliness, betrayal, passion, and about every aspect of their physical world. As he chopped the wood, he was singing about the stars, and how they danced at night.
Stella finally decided to take him a pitcher of water, just so she could sit closer. He looked thirsty from the hard work he did every day, but this was the first time she’d taken pity on him. It was probably his voice that softened her up.
Taking the water with her, she sat on the woodpile and waited for him to finish his song. “What’s it called?” she asked when he was finished.
Suddenly he looked shy and he cast his eyes downward. “Well, it’s called Stella. Didn’t you know that Stella means stars?”
“No. Um,” she faltered. “I’m sorry. The old me, did you love her?” Stella was not convinced she was Persephone. She was Stella and she had lost her memory. However, she had already decided that she had to fool the sirens and pretend to be the goddess. Otherwise, they’d kill her.
“No,” he said without hesitation. “I did not love her. She was just so lovely and young that it seemed a pity for her to be eaten by my mother. I wanted to save her, but not because I was in love with her. She wasn’t like you. She was earthy and round and she had a laugh that was... not beautiful. You haven’t laughed like her once.”
“Yet, you bit her,” Stella reminded him. “And after having tasted her blood you refrained from eating her and yet you did not love her?”
“Yes, I bit her. I don’t know if I told you, but I don’t eat flesh. I drink blood, but I’ve never been so starved that I bled a person dry. There’s so little to eat here that I couldn’t afford not to. I’m a creature of appetite, even if it disgusts me. And I can’t escape being an accessory to murder, but I haven’t tried to drink your blood yet, so I think I’m becoming stronger. There was a time when I couldn’t smell humans without salivating. I’m really improving. What’s that?” he said, noticing her pitcher of water for the first time.
“It’s for you,” she said, bringing it for him.
“Thanks,” he said, taking it in his hands and dumping it over his head.
Droplets splashed her dress so she stepped back. “You weren’t supposed to pour it on your head,” she said crossly, brushing off the wet parts of her dress.
“Wasn’t I?”
“You were supposed to drink it.”
“Oh. I’m sorry,” he said before he shook his hair out. “I don’t drink water, but that was very refreshing and I thank you,” he said, putting the pitcher next to the woodpile. “I’ll fill it with fresh water before I come in. It’s about time to start hauling water anyway, but I’ll finish this first.” Then he picked up his ax.
“You don’t have to work this hard for me. I’ll help you haul the water this time.”
“Don’t,” he said, his eyes becoming serious.
She knew he would respond like that, like when she offered to find him blankets. In fact, it seemed like he didn’t want her to do any work at all. She couldn’t stand by and do nothing while he slaved away for her comfort and she loved his reaction when she offered to share the work. He always looked hurt and took a defensive stance. She wanted to take the ax from him and chop the wood herself. That would make him really angry and she wanted to see that. So, she tried.
“Well, you go haul water then, and I’ll finish chopping the wood,” she said, reaching for the ax handle.
“Have you gone crazy?” he asked, stepping back from her and holding the ax away from her.
“No. Give it to me.”
He dropped the handle and put his arms around her. He was soaking wet, but the warmth of his body came through. “I refuse. I’m not taking care of you because you asked, or because my mother would have gutted me if I hadn’t accepted with pleasure. I’m doing this because I want to. I have never been so happy in my life.”
Stella was breathless. She should be angry. But she couldn’t find the words to be wroth with him, or even to move away from him.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said when she didn’t answer. “Tonight, I’ll do something nice for you. Instead of going back to the cave when it gets dark like I normally do, I’ll stay here and we’ll have a party.”
“A party? I’ve never been to a party. What’ll we do?”
“I’ll light a fire, we’ll dance and sing. I’ll bring you flowers and something pretty to wear.”
“That sounds like you’re adding work for yourself because then you’ll have to chop more wood to replace what we’ll burn.”
“That’s why it’s something nice for you and you’ll have fun. I’ll sing the song I wrote for you.”
“What song is that?”
“The one you walked in on me singing, just now.”
***
Sethos had worked intently since their conversation at the woodpile. He chopped all the wood, hauled water, watered the sheep, brought a fish for her out of the smokehouse and then disappeared down to the cave for a few hours.
At nightfall, he came to the tower, dressed more impressively than she had ever seen him. Normally, he wore the simplest of woolen trousers. With no shirt, he could easily let his wings unfurl whenever necessity demanded it. When she first saw him running around with his chest bare, she thought he looked like a rather tame beast, but lately, her feelings had softened and she thought he looked practical. When he brought her dress, he wore real clothes that covered his back and chest, and shoulders and buttoned up the front. She couldn’t believe it when she saw him wearing boots.
“Where did you get the clothes?” she gasped.
“Oh, nowhere. Ships crash here and we salvage their cargo. I’ve brought this for you.” He handed her a trailing garment of white spun silk. “I washed it and tried to make it smell nice. Sometimes these things get a little wet and then they’re ruined.”
Stella put her nose in the fabric. It smelt like windflowers. “Don’t trouble yourself, Sethos. It’s fine, quite fragrant. You’ll wait while I change?”
“I’ll wait,” he said, looking sufficiently humble and a little red around the ears.
When Stella emerged from the tower, Sethos was still waiting outside the front door.
Down on the beach, the stars were shining and the moon was the slimmest crescent Stella had ever seen against the navy sky. Sethos had placed stones around the bonfire and set up sticks for cooking. He wasn’t planning on eating himself, but he took great care that everything was perfect for her. There were drums, which he pounded on and showed Stella how to do the same. She banged on them in time with him until her palms were sore.
“Now, we dance,” he said, getting up and putting his hands around her waist. He brought her to her feet and stepped away from her. Excitement danced in his eyes and it infected her until she could only follow his lead. “Let’s clap. One, two, pause, one, two, three. One, two, pause, one, two, three. Got the rhythm? Then we stomp our feet to the beat. One, two, pause, one, two, three. Put your arms in the air. Now clap and stomp.”
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
She did it.
Sethos clapped his hands to the side of his face and stomped with her. Then he put his arms around her waist and lifted her into the air on the last beat. She was so shocked, she almost knocked him far enough off-balance to pitch her straight into the sand.
“Sorry,” he said, stumbling to recover himself.
“No,” she laughed. “That’s great. Why didn’t you tell me that was what you were going to do? It’s fun. Let’s try it again.”
“You want to try it again? Don’t tell me you’re actually having a good time?”
“I am. Now come on, I want to do some more.”
“Good,” he said, extremely pleased.
He threw her up into the air again and again. She squealed and laughed like a little girl. He should have told her that he was tired by this point, but he kept right on tossing her and teaching her new ways to jump. He showed her how to spin and how to clap hands in time with him.
As they moved, she became more at home with him until she felt herself becoming increasingly attracted to him. He was noticeably gentle when he touched her and profoundly careful, like she was beloved. She felt his love for her in every move, in every word, and before long, she wanted to return it.
By the end of the night, she was sitting between his legs with her back against his chest while he fed her smoked fish and olives. She was so tired that just resting with him was pure pleasure. He didn’t seem to tire like she did, so he prepared the food and brought her water to drink. The fire crackled. Her eyelids felt heavy and her body felt deliciously limp.
Then he sang to her and the sound of it filled her soul like heaven was falling down on her.
“Do you know what’s amazing about you?” Stella said quietly when he finished. “I never would have imagined that you could be so... adorable. I mean, when I first saw you, I thought you were an animal, and now... I think you’re breathtaking.”
“You’re the kind of human I like the most,” he said sweetly. “You don’t have any thoughts to hurt anyone, do you? You would never hurt me, even though my mother and sister have done you a great wrong. You’re kind and you don’t take your anger out on me. Before my mother left, she told me that I had to bear it when you beat me. I had to stand it even if you should want to murder me, but I knew I was safe. Thoughts like those don’t enter the temple of your mind. Most people would kill rather than be killed. You’re not like that, are you?”
“No.” Stella shuddered, resting her head against his beating heart. She wondered what else he thought about her.
“I wish I could compliment your beauty, your face, and your soft curves, but I don’t see them. They belong to that other girl. Where is her soul now, I wonder?” Stella shifted, and he said quickly, “I’m not worrying about her. The only one I see is you and the green light that shines from your eyes. Your eyes give your divinity away.”
“Let’s not talk anymore about that,” she said, hoping to shift the mood.
He put a piece of fish in her mouth and she kissed his fingers before he could move away. He craned his neck around to look at her face. “Are you sure you want to do that?”
“Do what?” she feigned, letting one of her hands rest lazily on his thigh.
He cleared his throat. “My mother and her sister say that you have a husband and that he’s a god. Are you sure you want to turn me into that kind of slave?”
Stella clenched her jaw in aggravation. She didn’t know what to say. In the space of one evening, she had changed her mind about eventually traveling to the mainland. It held no charm for her anymore. She didn’t want to leave Sethos and try to make her way in the world without him. It wasn’t because she was afraid. It was because she wanted to live in the world that he lived in. There was so much she desired. She wanted to fall asleep in the wreath of his arms and never wake up. She wanted to crawl under his skin and feel what he felt. She wanted to sprout wings and fly into the night with him. At the very least, she wanted him to take her as his bride.
Now he was talking to her about the ridiculous idea that she was married to the God of the Underworld. Over the past few days, she had become more and more convinced that the sirens had mistaken her for someone else. She’d never been in love or married. She would know something like that about herself, wouldn’t she?
Finally, she said. “I don’t really remember him, so would it be all right if we just pretended he didn’t exist?”
“Are you asking me to become your lover?” he asked, his voice unreadable. She couldn’t tell if he was pleased by the prospect or angered by it.
“I guess I’m not asking for anything,” she said, getting up and picking her way along the beach, back toward the tower.
“Wait,” he said, chasing after her.
Stella didn’t turn around. The mood had left her and she just wanted to be alone so she could sleep. She didn’t know if he followed her all the way back to the tower because she never turned around.
***
When Stella woke up the next morning, Sethos was lying on the stone floor at the foot of her bed. “What are you doing?” she asked, rushing to him and trying to raise him up.
“I’m sorry,” he said dazedly. “Last night, I didn’t mean to anger you. I just wanted things to be clear between us. If you want me to seduce you, I’ll certainly do it, but I don’t want to presume to do that sort of thing with a goddess.”
Stella put a hand to her forehead and tried to realize what she was dealing with. Their relationship would be plagued by his subjugation forever if she didn’t force him to accept equal terms. She embraced her courage and took the leap. “I-I’m not a goddess,” she said, taking his hand and putting it over her heart. “I’m just an ordinary person. Don’t you feel my heart?”
Sethos twitched and pulled his hand away. “Fragile,” he said breathlessly.
“So, why don’t you just love me for what I am? I don’t need a servant as much as a partner. I like living under your protection, so just stay and if you can give me a little of your heart, give it.”
“I’m supposed to romance you?” he asked dubiously.
Stella sighed. How could she stand his pigheadedness? He was terribly slow. She got up from the floor and left the room. She couldn’t bear the sight of him when he was so useless.
Hours later, when she saw him, he was hauling water, back in his plain trousers and bare chest. He looked thin. She wished she could cook for him. As it was, she made flatbread for herself in the stone oven in the kitchen, but she couldn’t share it with him. He didn’t eat food, only blood.
As the hours and days grew into weeks, Sethos and Stella talked more than they did at first. He brought her flowers from all over the island and decorated her rooms with them. Sometimes he took her out to the most exotic places they could reach: roaring waterfalls, sparkling caves, awesome heights that boasted incredible views. He also had a very careful mind for her stomach and gathered fruit for her.
They talked about everything. She talked about the void in her mind where her memories were and how the emptiness haunted her. He talked about the horrors of his life with his mother and aunt. He was half-human and he was revolted by the way they lived, but they must go on. It was their curse. He asked her once if she knew how to break it, but she shook her head sorrowfully. She had no idea.
They danced on the beach most nights, and sometimes he extended his wings and let the wind catch them. He soared into the air like a shooting star and flew as smoothly as a swallow.
And their love took shape. Slowly at first, it was almost imperceptible. Like the moon rising each night a little different than the night before. It was almost full.
“Don’t go to bed yet. Let’s talk more,” he said, and they shared ideas until she fell asleep beside him on the shore. He covered her with a blanket and kept the fire going all night.
The moon hung on the edge of the curvature.
“Put your head in my lap and I’ll feed you, like that first night.”
And the moon rose to its full height when his voice swelled and said, “I want to taste you.”
This was something Stella could feel coming. Sometimes he looked unbearably starved. She’d tried to give him real food, human food, but he wretched whatever he ate. He didn’t try to keep it a secret from her. He said he’d tried it before, but he could never keep anything down but blood. She’d thought about it, letting him bite her and drink her blood, but she didn’t know what it would do to her. She couldn’t spill her blood endlessly for him and live, could she?
“No,” Stella said, pulling her wrist away from him and feeling the unbroken skin. “No. If you bite me, you’ll kill me eventually, won’t you?”
“I don’t know,” he said quietly, averting his eyes because of his shame in mentioning the unmentionable. “I’ve never tried to keep a human alive to harvest their blood. My mother and aunt always eat anyone I drain.” He paused and wind blew through the tower. “Forgive me. I can’t stop this feeling from growing. It’s in my nature and I can’t break from it. Perhaps you should go to the mainland where you’ll be safe from me.”
“No!” Stella shrieked, grabbing his arm. “I can’t go to the mainland. Don’t send me.”
“But, treasure,” he said, touching her cheek tenderly with the back of his fingers. “You don’t understand. My mother keeps me well-nourished, but no matter how much I drink from her ankle, I don’t stop wanting to drink from you. It’ll only grow worse and worse until I end up going mad and taking what I have no right to take.” He suddenly stood up. “You’re going to have to let me go.”
***
Time wore on like the wind and the waves. Sethos’ eyes became shadows, hollow and vacant. He tried to act the same for her, but it was impossible. He went twice as often to the cave to visit his mother, but he grew thinner and thinner until he was compelled to wear a shirt to hide his jutting bones.
Stella tried to ignore his starvation. She ignored everything. The way he took to sleeping on the beach instead of on the floor above her. He couldn’t stand to be in the same building with her while she slept. He didn’t trust himself.
Stella pushed it away and pushed it away until finally, her footsteps found their way to the path that led to the seashore. The sand was cold on her bare feet and she didn’t disturb one blade of grass as she moved. There was a dying fire on the beach. Sethos sat in front of it with his legs crossed. His drums sat beside him as well as a stack of mats and blankets. From where she stood, it looked like he was playing on his flute, but she heard no music. It wasn’t until she was right behind him that she saw what he was doing, and she screamed.
Turning around, his lips and chin were red with blood. His broken wrist fell to his side as he saw her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, as twin tears trickled down his face. “I’ve tried so hard to be strong.”
“And this is what happens to you when I refuse you?”
“No. This is what happened when your mother cursed mine. I’m sorry that I’m made this way, made this poorly, forced down this low, but I am. If I were what nature intended for me, I would be half nymph and even then I would be too low for your notice.”
Stella didn’t answer. She felt sick and sorry and stabbed right to her heart.
“Let’s go back to the tower,” he offered. “I’ll sleep in my own bed like I’m supposed to.”
They walked together. In the past, they had held hands many times as they walked, but this time, they couldn’t. Sethos wouldn’t. His control was slipping and his grip faltering, but he put Stella to bed. The cuts on his wrist obvious and gruesome as he wrapped her covers around her like she was still his treasure. He slipped up the stairs to the top floor.
The next day, he didn’t come out of his room. She left him undisturbed until nightfall. Then she’d had enough. She opened the door at the top of the tower and stepped into his room. The ocean breeze blew cool through one balcony and out the other. Stella felt her own heartbeat. Each throb felt like it would pound her ribcage to dust. She couldn’t bear the pain.
Sethos was spreading his white angel wings and standing at the balcony facing north. The sun had set and the sky was filled with gold and rust. His brown hand stroked the stone door frame.
“I love you,” he said, turning for one moment to look at her.
“Don’t go,” she commanded. “I don’t want you to go.”
“Your eyes are shining, treasure. They are so green,” he replied peaceably.
Stella rushed to him. “Don’t leave. I love you!” She threw herself on his back and put her arms around his shoulders. His wings smelled like the wind and the perfume of the universe. With her cheek on his back, she could feel the fury of his heart and the heat of his skin.
“Don’t kill me,” she whispered. “If you have to bite me, do it, but don’t kill me.”
He whipped around and gripped her face between his hands. Looking desperately into her eyes, he said, “Are you sure you mean that?”
“No, I’m not sure, but I don’t want to lose you,” she stuttered.
Anguish filled his eyes, and his expression became tortured. “How can I devour any part of you when that is your answer?”
“I trust you,” she whispered, holding his slender wrists. “Don’t kill me, and let me be your love.”
“You will always be my love,” he said as he buried his head in the crook of her neck. “You will always be my love.” He bit down.
Stella put her arms around him and clutched his wings. She closed her eyes and imagined he was kissing her. He was kissing her warmly, like he had kissed her thousands of times before.
Then her mind seemed to change course and she couldn’t steer it back to the present. Bitter feelings flooded her mind and burned her nerves. She was a lonely creature, not the girl held lovingly by Sethos, but a great woman who was despised and rejected by those she once loved and trusted. She was always invited, yet shut out from the intimacies of the society she used to enjoy. It was because she was a sacrifice on a bed of black silk.
Her history as the Goddess Persephone hit her like a thunderbolt. Her life as Stella had just been a dream, an escape. Nothing could save her from the emptiness that gaped in front of her like a chasm. There was no end, no death, and no freedom.
She opened her eyes and saw Sethos, a single tear streaking the side of his cheek. He had known what she was and loved her anyway. Not because he was fascinated by what she represented and not because he was excited by the idea of being the plaything of a formidable goddess, but because of her soul under everything else. He didn’t know of the constant revulsion that followed her when she visited Olympus. He didn’t care that she had been abused and broken by a cruel, unwanted husband. What she had become was a woman who was not the innocent child that Apollo wept over. Now her desires were clear. She wanted life to have the chance to spring up, rather than being constantly cut down.
“I love you,” Persephone said, looking straight into Sethos’ eyes. “I love you and I want to go on being in love with you.”
He wrapped her up in his arms and wings, crushing her gently. “Thanks be to the gods.”
The day ended with the two of them sprawled across his bed as she told him the truth about herself. She hadn’t been wrong about him and his feelings for her. Nothing she could say would ruin the sweetness of his feelings. He was a cursed creature of sin and therefore he couldn’t judge her with distaste. Both of them were wrecked by powers beyond their control, but when they were together, they felt whole.
They belonged together.