powerless; an aphrodite/poseidon, lito mythfic.
(AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is another in my series of "mythfics", to borrow the term from my darling etzyofi. In order to fully appreciate these, be sure to look at the casting picspam. I'm also including a "cast list" at the beginning of the fic just as a refresher as to who's playing who.)
CAST IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE:
powerless aphrodite/poseidon, pg-13
The Goddess of Beauty wakes up one morning to find her mojo missing. Can the world’s most beautiful woman survive 24 hours as a plain Jane? (5,074 words)
BEEP BEEP BEEP
She rolled over, groping for the snooze button. The bed felt too cold and empty, and it took her a moment to remember that Poseidon had spent the night in Singapore on business.
There was a bad taste in her mouth and as she rubbed at her bleary eyes she tried to recall why her head would be pounding so much. It had been a late night in the office going over the final photoshoots and approving the next ad campaign for her fashion line, but that was perfectly normal. It wasn’t as if she’d gone to a party afterwards and over-indulged-so why was her head aching?
According to the bedside clock, it was five-thirty in the morning. She was almost always out of bed by now; it was her routine, and she’d become accustomed to it after sixty-odd years of rising early. But today, today she could barely keep her eyes opened. For some reason she felt old and achy and completely run-down. There was paperwork to go over prior to the morning meeting-which was in two hours-but the very idea of getting dressed and driving to the office made her nauseous.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered to herself, resolutely throwing back the covers, swiping the tangled hair from her face, and swinging her legs out of bed. “I just need an espresso.”
The thick green carpet was cold against her feet as she padded to the bathroom. She flicked on the light, opened the glass shower doors, and twisted the dial to boiling hot. As the water heated and the first tendrils of steam curled and twisted in the air, Aphrodite turned and saw herself in the mirror.
For a very long moment she stared blankly in silence, eyes widening and mouth slowly dropping open. She stepped closer, reached out to poke the reflection, and blinked.
“What the fuck?”
---
Six hours earlier…
“For one whole day, huh?”
“Twenty-four hours exactly.”
“What precisely will happen?”
“Nothing dangerous, if that’s what you’re worrying about-”
“Oh, I’m not worried. Call it a morbid curiosity.”
“I call it vindictive malice. Let’s just say her womanly wiles won’t work. The spring will go out of her step, the curl out of her hair, the roses from her cheeks-”
“Ugh, enough with the clichés. I don’t remember you talking like that back in the old days.”
“I did a lot more malicious laughing back then, as I recall. And anyway, I don’t typically talk like that. I suspect the general level of intelligence in my surroundings has had a detrimental effect on my verbosity.”
“Wow, I’m impressed. Insulting me and showing just how much of a snobby bitch you are, all in one blow. Touché. …And what’s in it for you?”
“You mean besides seeing Aphrodite go to pieces and squirm for an entire day? Isn’t that a reward in and of itself?”
“Sure, but I know what you’re like. There’s always something else.”
“My my, so suspicious these days. Whatever happened to that carefree, jovial huckster?”
“Too many ridiculous informercials stealing my limelight. Well?”
“Fuck me, you’re persistent. I’ll just say that Aphrodite’s discomfort gives me something of an extra bounce in my step, hmm? So, do we have a deal?”
“Abso-bloody-lutely.”
And they shook on it.
---
“No no no no no,” Aphrodite stammered, wiping away the fog on the mirror, leaning in closer in disbelief.
Those were-no, they couldn’t be-oh fuck, they were! Wrinkles. There were wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. Eyes that were bloodshot and puffy and red. She always put on moisturizing lip balm before bed, but today her lips were chapped and cracking. Her entire face was blotchy with redness, and her forehead was oily. Even her hair was all wrong-there was some kind of weird cowlick going on so that a bunch of it stuck up in the back, and as she combed through it with hooked fingers she realized it didn’t simply look dry and washed out-it was just as brittle and unhealthy to the touch, too.
“How is this happening?” she cried in a panic, opening the cabinet and scrambling for her creams and foundations and washes. “What’s wrong with me?” Her voice cracked audibly in a very unpleasant way, and the sound was so unexpected she flinched.
Aphrodite turned back to the mirror with huge staring eyes, positively horrified by her own reflection.
---
The secretary looked up from the e-mail she was typing. She opened her mouth to ask the woman if she had an appointment and managed to strangle the words when she realized the haggard, frazzled woman standing in front of her mahogany counter was none other than the CEO herself.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Ms. Venus,” the girl stammered, trying not to stare. “Did you need me?”
“Where is the meeting?” Aphrodite demanded, struggling to catch her breath. She’d spent two solid hours in the bathroom trying to cover up whatever had happened during the night, but no amount of lotions or make-up could cover up the lines and blemishes, and her hair had absolutely refused to cooperate even after she’d pulled out the hair-spray and gel. As a result, she had arrived to work late and after running up seven flights of stairs-what was it with broken elevators these days?-and breaking the heel off one of her Manolo Blahniks, she’d staggered into the boardroom to find it empty.
“There was an issue with the Power Point, ma’am,” the secretary said quickly. “They had to move two floors down to Mr. Turner’s office. I’ll page them and let them know you’re on your way.”
“Thank you,” Aphrodite managed to say past the lump in her throat. The thought of going back down those stairs, of entering the meeting looking like a mess (and not even a hot one at that), made her want to cry.
Instead, she swallowed the lump, blinked back her tears, and hobbled back to the stairwell with her head as high as she could hold it.
---
“Um…”
It was suddenly difficult to focus. They were all staring at her; she could feel their eyes boring into her. Her tongue felt clumsy in her mouth, and her usual business-like manner had melted away completely. Whatever clever, sharp phrases she’d prepared for this newest marketing campaign had utterly fallen out of her head, and as she rummaged through her papers she realized she had left half of her proposal on her desk at the Lito.
This was all kinds of not good. It was one thing to not look quite as fabulous as she was accustomed, but losing her confidence and her capability for public speaking? That was just downright cruel.
Her shareholders and accountants and assistants were silent in their ergonomic chairs, still and statuesque for fear of drawing any particular attention to themselves. She glanced around the room with a growing sense of panic, sure that they were all judging her and thinking spiteful, unfair things. No doubt they were all telling themselves, Well, it had to happen someday. No woman can stay gorgeous and capable forever. She’s hit her peak and it’s all downhill from here...
“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I seem to have misplaced some of my paperwork. Shall we take a ten minute break?”
She limped to the bathroom as quickly as she could, painfully aware of the awkward glances she was getting as she sped past cubicles and couture offices. Her heels made a pitiful click-snap! retort against the tile floor in the ladies room, the uneven echo mocking her. The porcelain sink was frigid under her hands as she pressed her forehead to the cool glass of the mirror.
When she’d finally gotten her breathing under control, she pulled away-only to stare in disgust at the oily smudge of makeup and grease she’d left on the mirror. A handful of paper towels and some splashes of water only seemed to smear the mirror rather than clean it, and she finally tossed the wet wad into the trash with a hiccup of despair.
The door opened with a squeak, and she nearly dived into a stall to hide. It was the front desk secretary, a chubby young woman no more than thirty. She wouldn’t be called pretty by most standards, but her haircut was perfect for her face and her clothes showed an attention to detail as well as a good sense of fashion.
“I’m sorry if I startled you,” the secretary said, taking a step back. “I can leave if you need-”
“Oh, no,” Aphrodite said a little too quickly. “It’s fine. I’m-I’m just not having such a great day, as you might have noticed. I apologize-I should know this, but I seem to have forgotten your name?”
“It’s Myrtle… Myrtle Meriweather.” The girl’s face turned beet red. “Yeah, I know it’s a ridiculous name. Like something out of a joke.”
“Myrtle is a lovely name,” Aphrodite said firmly, finding a smile. “I love myrtle trees-in fact, they’re my favorite. Honestly.”
“Thanks. Um, I noticed you broke your heel… I’ve got some superglue in my desk that would probably fix it.”
Aphrodite looked down at her red Manolo Blahniks. They’d cost $789 and she’d only worn them once before. They were works of art in a shoe shape, and to slap the heel back on with common superglue…
“That would be wonderful, Myrtle, thank you,” she said finally, realizing that fully ruining a pair of fabulous shoes was the least of her problems.
Fifteen minutes later she felt a little bit better about the world. It was incredible how simply being able to walk evenly could change your entire outlook. She’d also remembered a bottle of rose perfume she’d left in her desk months ago, and while it wouldn’t stop her from sweating like a cow (was this how humans felt every day? Sticky and damp and ugh?) it was doing a good job of covering the scent of it.
She reentered the meeting and reshuffled her papers. “I apologize. It’s been a trying morning. Now, where was I?”
“We were going over the plans for Fashion Week, and the new line of everyday wear,” one of her assistants said helpfully.
“Ah, yes, well, I’ve been putting much thought into our newest line and I think we should be embracing a more eco-friendly outlook-recycled materials, cottons over synthetics, bamboo and natural elements.” She paused to catch her breath and discreetly scratch at her neck. “We’ve become synonymous with high fashion and couture, but I’d like our next move to be in an environmental direction. If we’re going to develop a line that’s more affordable for the average consumer, we should use some of our overhead to invest in- I’m sorry, is it just me or is it getting hotter in here?”
The rest of the room shrugged and shook their heads.
“It feels rather close all of a sudden,” Aphrodite said, feeling a trickle of sweat run down the side of her face.
“Your neck,” the nearest assistant said suddenly.
“What about it?”
“You’re breaking out in hives,” the woman said, standing quickly. “I think you’re having an allergic reaction! Do you have an epi-pen?”
“What the hell’s an epi-pen?” Aphrodite gasped, pulling at her collar.
“I’ll call an ambulance,” an accountant suggested, pulling out his BlackBerry.
“But I’m not allergic to anything,” Aphrodite protested as a second accountant poured her a glass of water and another assistant fanned her with his paperwork. “I can’t have allergies! It’s not like I’m mor-”
But what if she was? What if someone had stripped her of her immortality? She had no idea how-surely the Oracle would have foreseen something so drastic and warned them, and Zeus kept careful tabs on everyone and thing that was powerful enough to affect them in such a way-but maybe a black sorceress, one of Hectate’s wayward children, or a demi-god who’d gotten their hands onto a lost talisman or weapon…
What if she hadn’t just lost her powers-what if she could die? Had someone purposefully planted something in her office to kill her?
Panic threatened to choke her, which wasn’t difficult considering her throat was beginning to swell up painfully and her arms and chest felt afire with itchy hives.
“This can’t possibly be happening,” she croaked, tears streaming down her splotchy face. “It’s all a terrible nightmare, and I’m going to wake up any moment-”
---
Two hours later she was sitting up in her hospital bed while she paged through an Italian Vogue, covered in white benadryl lotion. It hadn’t been quite as dire as it had felt; the EMTs had immediately given her an injection before bundling her into the ambulance, and she had been breathing evenly and easily by the time they’d arrived at St. Mercy’s.
Still, that was as close to death as she ever wanted to come. She never could have imagined that fear would taste so bitter and sharp. No wonder mortals would do anything to escape death.
A knock at the door interrupted her study of the newest looks from Milan. It was Myrtle the helpful secretary, and a positively obscene amount of flowers.
“From everyone,” the girl explained, setting the arrangement down on the bedside table with some difficulty, spitting out leaves as she straightened. “Did they figure out what happened?”
“Apparently I’m allergic to roses,” Aphrodite said dryly. “I’ve worn that perfume almost every day for years, and today I’m allergic to it. I’m beginning to think I should have just stayed in bed today.”
“You won’t have to stay overnight?”
“No, I’m fine. I’m waiting for one of the family to come pick me up.” Aphrodite sighed and tossed the magazine aside. “I honestly don’t know how everyone can live like this.”
“What do you mean?”
“All of the effort and the nausea and the sweating and the acne. I’ll never take clear skin and manageable hair for granted again. Myrtle, are you happy with how you look?”
The secretary hesitated. “Well, not all the time. I think a lot about how nice a shorter nose would be, and I don’t like having so many freckles. But for the most part, I’m okay with me. I’ve gotten used to it.” She glanced up at the wall clock. “I should be getting back-I don’t think Janice can handle the phone by herself much longer. I’m glad you’re feeling better, Ms. Venus. Hope to see you in the morning.”
Myrtle was actually rather pretty when she smiled, and Aphrodite returned it without a thought.
Resignation is a remarkable talent mortals have, Aphrodite said to herself. I hope I don’t have to develop it…
---
Twenty minutes later she was in an elevator that was playing the most appalling muzak she’d ever had the misfortune to hear. She’d scrubbed off most of the lotion and managed to put her hair back into a ponytail, and while her blouse and skirt were certainly more rumpled and disheveled than she liked, at least she wasn’t leaving in a hospital gown.
It was just too bad that Poseidon was still out of the country, that the only person at the Lito who had the time to pick her up was-
“How have you been, Psyche?” she asked, if only to drown out the elevator music.
“Fine,” her daughter-in-law replied shortly, staring straight ahead. “You?”
“This hasn’t been my best day ever,” Aphrodite said in a carefully neutral voice. “And Eros?”
“He’s been working himself into exhaustion. Otherwise, he’s fine.”
“And Hedone? I haven’t heard from her in months.”
“She’s good. She’s enjoying Stanford. She’ll be home for Dionysius and Ariadne’s wedding-Zeus wanted her to be the cupbearer in the ceremony.”
“Ah yes, the wedding. So Zeus has given his permission for Ariadne to formally join the family?”
“Does that surprise you?” Psyche asked with just a hint of an edge. “No one could expect Dionysius to marry a mortal-that would just be plain cruel.”
Aphrodite felt very awkward indeed. She remembered quite plainly, just as Psyche did, how loudly she had argued with Zeus and the others to withhold the ambrosia from Psyche when Eros first asked to marry her. Being who she was, she had expected Zeus to give in to her demands and leave the girl mortal-but the King had not wavered. It had been perhaps the first time she had not gotten her way.
Remembering all of this as she glanced over at her daughter-in-law, Aphrodite felt very petty and weak. Psyche had been a good wife to her son, and there was no denying her beauty and intelligence. She stood tall and confident, uncowed as ever by her disapproving mother-in-law, and for the first time Aphrodite felt smaller in comparison. Psyche’s beauty was not waning; she was not sweating nervously in wrinkled clothes, her face splotchy and red. If Aphrodite remained diminished, if her powers did not return to her, she would always be less than Psyche.
It was humbling. And she didn’t like it at all.
The elevator door dinged and slid open. Holding on tightly to her purse, Aphrodite followed Psyche out into the lobby. The automatic doors whooshed, the car was only a few feet away-
Flash bulbs burst to her right as a clamor of voices shouted to her left, “Aphrodite Venus! Care to tell us the nature of your visit? Is it serious? Is it true you’ll be checking into rehab soon?”
She didn’t burst into tears. But it was a very close thing.
---
“Where is she?” he demanded sharply.
Pan pointed over his shoulder, face carefully neutral. “The pool.”
He pushed past him without hesitation. The door was locked; he simply twisted until the metal gave way with a snap and stepped inside.
She was sitting in the shallows, the water just up to her nose, her arms around her legs and her knees tucked under her chin. Hair was plastered to her face, floating over her shoulders, and she was wearing a black one-piece. He never would have thought she even owned a one-piece-she loved showing off her midriff too much to cover it up. But there it was.
“I hear you’ve had a bad day.”
She startled at the sound of his voice, sunk too far into her own thoughts and melancholia to have heard him enter, and looked up with a splash.
“What are you doing back?” she said thickly, her voice harsh from a raw throat. “Thought you were in China till the weekend.”
“Psyche called me,” he said, pulling off his tie, dropping it and his cream jacket onto the closest lounge chair. “It sounded like you needed me more than the company.”
“Psyche called you?” The incredulity was clear.
“Believe it or not, but she cares,” he said with a small smile, unbuttoning his shirt. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that she cares about you; but if anything happened to you, Eros would be effected, and she certainly cares about him.”
“Yet again the girl shows me up,” she grumbled.
“It wouldn’t rankle so much if you didn’t hold onto grudges so long,” he suggested, stepping out of his pants and into the pool.
“You’ll ruin those boxers,” she said peevishly. “The chlorine will bleach out the black.”
“You can get me new ones,” he said, sitting beside her. “So. Tell me about your day.”
“I shouldn’t have to. Isn’t it obvious?”
“No, not really.”
“I’m hideous,” she said dully, tucking her knees under her chin again, looking at the pool instead of him. “Someone did something and now I’ve lost my beauty. My confidence. Everything.”
“Why must you always be so melodramatic?” he demanded, pulling back the wet strands of hair plastered to her face.
“Melodramatic? I have wrinkles. And acne. And other disgusting things I don’t even know the names of. I’m repulsive.”
“I’m not repulsed.”
“What if I stay like this? What if I’m actually mortal and I grow old and die?” She shivered, her arms tightening.
“I think it’s more likely that someone is playing a cruel trick on you,” he said reassuringly. “You know it’s near to impossible for anyone to permanently strip us of our powers.”
“I’d like to find out who’s responsible and feed them to Hades’ dog.” She shivered again. When she spoke next it was in a quiet, small voice he’d never heard before. “Poseidon, I’m frightened.”
He stood abruptly, stepping down the slope into the deeper water, reaching for her hands. “Come with me.”
Her toes could barely touch the bottom when he stopped. “Have I ever told you about the first time I saw you?”
She shook her head mutely.
“Well,” he said slowly, raising her arms and pulling her closer until she had no choice but to wrap them over his shoulders and around his neck. “There you were in your giant clamshell, looking rather chilly-it was a windy day, I remember, and you had nothing on, poor thing-and I said to myself, ‘That has to be beauty personified.’ And, as I usually am, I was right.”
She smiled.
“I wanted to go over and introduce myself, but there were all of those annoying cherubs flitting about, and Zeus showed up almost immediately to whisk you off to Olympus for the Council meeting, and Hestia had just turned down my proposal and, well, the timing just wasn’t right.”
Staring into his eyes like this, she wanted to count the flecks of gold amidst the vivid blue of his irises.
“And then Zeus had to go and marry you off to Hephaestus. We all knew that wasn’t the brightest of Zeus’ ideas-he probably knew it himself-but no one wanted war or squabbles or endless bickering over you. Of course, you being the headstrong and frequently stupid woman that you are, that didn’t stop you from starting plenty of wars down on Earth-all because of your beauty.”
He said it bluntly but somehow without a hint of judgment, and she felt her face darken with embarrassment and shame.
“Now that is interesting,” he said softly.
“What is?”
“The old you, the supremely confident and self-assured you, would never admit fault. It’s just not part of your nature. But right now, in this moment, you can understand the folly of your actions.”
“We’ve all made mistakes,” she said quickly. “You haven’t lived a faultless life either, darling.”
“Oh, I know,” he agreed amiably. “I’ve toyed with mortals and destroyed cities, sometimes simply out of spite. I can be as merciless and blind as my seas. That’s in my nature. But I have my gentle moments, too. I can rescue and soothe just as readily as I can devastate. But you, Aphrodite, you’ve always been hard and unflinching, especially after Eros was born. Eros took on all of the duties that required tenderness and sweetness, and you just became sharper. With you, beauty was always an edged sword, a weapon to be used to get your way or to punish.”
“I haven’t always!” she protested weakly.
“You have,” he said gently. “You’re too unflinching and absolute. You’ve always used your beauty in a selfish way. It’s your biggest flaw. You’ve never used your powers to help, only to hurt.”
There was a pain building in her chest, as if she’d been punched.
“I know it hurts to hear it,” he said, hands warm beneath the water as they pressed against her hips. “But you should hear it now, when it might sink in.”
“I have never felt weaker,” she whispered past the lump in her throat. “I’m scared and I’m defenseless and you’re saying all of these cruel, terrible things. How could you?”
“Because someone should have said it a long time ago.”
She tried to pull away from him. “I thought you cared about me, that you understood and wanted to support me-”
“Aphrodite, think for just a moment.” His arm tightened around her waist, refusing to let her escape. “I say all of this now because you’ll actually hear it. Because you have no defenses, no way to deflect it impassively with a flick of your haughty hand.”
“So you want me to hurt, that’s wonderful,” she said, turning her face away from him.
“No, I want you to be better than what you were. Beauty is a powerful tool in the mortal world, and you could use it to good effect if you had the motivation to. You told me you wanted to change and go against your petty nature-I’m trying to show you how.”
She was silent and still for quite some time, staring down at the rippling blue water, her heart and head in a turmoil.
“And what if I never get my beauty back?” she asked quietly, turning back to him. “What if I just wither away like an old crone?”
“That won’t happen,” he said firmly, cupping her face with one wet hand.
“How can you be sure?” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes.
“Because I’ll find whoever’s responsible and rip their heart out before I let that happen,” he promised fervently, kissing her.
---
BEEP BEEP BEEP
She hit the alarm off with one quick, decisive slap and rolled over, reaching out for him just as he reached for her.
“Sleep okay?” he murmured against her hair.
“Mmm-hmm,” she said, kissing his neck. “You?”
“Fantastic.”
She sat up, letting the covers fall back. “And?”
“…And?”
“Am I beautiful?”
He looked up at her, eyes half-lidded, and a slow smile spread across his face. “You’ve always been beautiful to me.”
“But am I really?” She demanded. “Or do I still look like last night?”
“You were beautiful even then,” he smiled. “And you’re beautiful now.” He reached up and pulled her back down for a long, lingering kiss, and when they parted she smiled.
“Go look in the mirror if you don’t trust my judgment,” he said with a laugh.
She greeted her reflection with a grin. Mirrors never lie. But then again, neither had Poseidon.
“I’ve decided what to do with the proceeds from my next line,” she called to him from the bathroom as she started up the shower.
“Oh?” He leaned against the doorway, his robe hanging open, hair disheveled from the bed.
“Every cent will go towards the oil spill clean-up. I bet I could fund several wildlife rescue teams, too. And how about a telethon? Those are always popular, and I bet I could talk to some of the Hollywood crowd-”
It was hard to talk when he was pressed against her like that, his short ginger beard rough against her shoulder, his hands sliding down…
---
Myrtle Meriweather looked up from her computer screen. “Good morning, Ms. Venus. Feeling better?”
“Enormously,” she replied with a dazzling smile. “Myrtle, I was wondering if you’d like a raise?”
“A raise?” the girl echoed, a bewildered expression crossing her face.
“Well, I looked up your records and you had several charitable internships listed: Habitat for Humanity, Greenpeace, PETA… Are you still interested in non-profit charities?”
“Um, yes, I am,” Myrtle said, flustered and red in the face.
“And you double majored in advertising design and business, I saw.”
“That’s right.”
“Then that’s just perfect, because I’m planning on opening up a new division in the company that’s solely aimed at charitable events and programs. I was hoping you’d be interested in helping to supervise it. You’d get your own office, of course, and that raise I mentioned.”
Myrtle pinched her arm. “I’m sorry Ms. Venus, but are you serious?”
“Utterly. You shouldn’t look so shocked; you’re fully qualified for the position.”
“And you didn’t even know who I was yesterday,” the secretary said weakly.
“I didn’t know a lot of things yesterday,” Aphrodite said casually with another smile. “Go ahead and think it over for a bit, I don’t expect you to make such a big decision immediately. Just let me know when you’re ready.”
---
Poseidon scanned the bar, skipping over the crowd until his eyes landed on the hat he was looking for.
“Hello, Hermes,” he said calmly, slipping onto the adjacent stool, waving the bartender over with a lazy flick of his wrist.
“Hullo, Poseidon,” replied Hermes, taking another pull of his bottle of beer. “Surprised to see you. This isn’t exactly your sort of scene.”
“It’s yours, though,” Poseidon said.
“Ah, I see. So this isn’t just some happy coincidence. Why were you looking for me?”
“It’s about yesterday.”
“Uh-huh? It was a Wednesday-what else did you want to know?”
“Who did you make a deal with?”
Hermes hesitated for a second, the bottle halfway to his mouth. “What deal?”
“You’re fast-I know that. Probably faster than me. But you’re not as powerful,” Poseidon said in a warning undertone. “And even you have to pause for breath eventually. I swear, Hermes, if you don’t come clean to me right now-”
“She’s certainly worked her magic on you, eh?” Hermes snickered with a roll of his eyes.
Poseidon’s glare would have boiled water. “Believe me, Hermes. You do not want to fuck with me about this.”
The God of Thieves sighed dramatically, setting his beer down with a loud clunk. “You know, you really need to develop a sense of humor. Okay, I admit it: I made a deal. Aphrodite lost her powers for a day, got to feel what it was like to be normal and average, and got some unflattering photos splashed across the world’s papers. Big fucking deal.”
“With who? Who did it to her?”
“Ah, Poseidon,” Hermes said slowly, an infuriatingly cheeky grin spreading across his boyish face. “A magician never gives away all of his tricks.”
He tipped his hat politely, and with a sudden bang had disappeared in a rush of wind and smoke.
Poseidon cursed under his breath, downed his shot of whiskey, and stormed from the bar, leaving a very confused clientele behind him.
CAST IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE:
powerless aphrodite/poseidon, pg-13
The Goddess of Beauty wakes up one morning to find her mojo missing. Can the world’s most beautiful woman survive 24 hours as a plain Jane? (5,074 words)
BEEP BEEP BEEP
She rolled over, groping for the snooze button. The bed felt too cold and empty, and it took her a moment to remember that Poseidon had spent the night in Singapore on business.
There was a bad taste in her mouth and as she rubbed at her bleary eyes she tried to recall why her head would be pounding so much. It had been a late night in the office going over the final photoshoots and approving the next ad campaign for her fashion line, but that was perfectly normal. It wasn’t as if she’d gone to a party afterwards and over-indulged-so why was her head aching?
According to the bedside clock, it was five-thirty in the morning. She was almost always out of bed by now; it was her routine, and she’d become accustomed to it after sixty-odd years of rising early. But today, today she could barely keep her eyes opened. For some reason she felt old and achy and completely run-down. There was paperwork to go over prior to the morning meeting-which was in two hours-but the very idea of getting dressed and driving to the office made her nauseous.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered to herself, resolutely throwing back the covers, swiping the tangled hair from her face, and swinging her legs out of bed. “I just need an espresso.”
The thick green carpet was cold against her feet as she padded to the bathroom. She flicked on the light, opened the glass shower doors, and twisted the dial to boiling hot. As the water heated and the first tendrils of steam curled and twisted in the air, Aphrodite turned and saw herself in the mirror.
For a very long moment she stared blankly in silence, eyes widening and mouth slowly dropping open. She stepped closer, reached out to poke the reflection, and blinked.
“What the fuck?”
---
Six hours earlier…
“For one whole day, huh?”
“Twenty-four hours exactly.”
“What precisely will happen?”
“Nothing dangerous, if that’s what you’re worrying about-”
“Oh, I’m not worried. Call it a morbid curiosity.”
“I call it vindictive malice. Let’s just say her womanly wiles won’t work. The spring will go out of her step, the curl out of her hair, the roses from her cheeks-”
“Ugh, enough with the clichés. I don’t remember you talking like that back in the old days.”
“I did a lot more malicious laughing back then, as I recall. And anyway, I don’t typically talk like that. I suspect the general level of intelligence in my surroundings has had a detrimental effect on my verbosity.”
“Wow, I’m impressed. Insulting me and showing just how much of a snobby bitch you are, all in one blow. Touché. …And what’s in it for you?”
“You mean besides seeing Aphrodite go to pieces and squirm for an entire day? Isn’t that a reward in and of itself?”
“Sure, but I know what you’re like. There’s always something else.”
“My my, so suspicious these days. Whatever happened to that carefree, jovial huckster?”
“Too many ridiculous informercials stealing my limelight. Well?”
“Fuck me, you’re persistent. I’ll just say that Aphrodite’s discomfort gives me something of an extra bounce in my step, hmm? So, do we have a deal?”
“Abso-bloody-lutely.”
And they shook on it.
---
“No no no no no,” Aphrodite stammered, wiping away the fog on the mirror, leaning in closer in disbelief.
Those were-no, they couldn’t be-oh fuck, they were! Wrinkles. There were wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. Eyes that were bloodshot and puffy and red. She always put on moisturizing lip balm before bed, but today her lips were chapped and cracking. Her entire face was blotchy with redness, and her forehead was oily. Even her hair was all wrong-there was some kind of weird cowlick going on so that a bunch of it stuck up in the back, and as she combed through it with hooked fingers she realized it didn’t simply look dry and washed out-it was just as brittle and unhealthy to the touch, too.
“How is this happening?” she cried in a panic, opening the cabinet and scrambling for her creams and foundations and washes. “What’s wrong with me?” Her voice cracked audibly in a very unpleasant way, and the sound was so unexpected she flinched.
Aphrodite turned back to the mirror with huge staring eyes, positively horrified by her own reflection.
---
The secretary looked up from the e-mail she was typing. She opened her mouth to ask the woman if she had an appointment and managed to strangle the words when she realized the haggard, frazzled woman standing in front of her mahogany counter was none other than the CEO herself.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Ms. Venus,” the girl stammered, trying not to stare. “Did you need me?”
“Where is the meeting?” Aphrodite demanded, struggling to catch her breath. She’d spent two solid hours in the bathroom trying to cover up whatever had happened during the night, but no amount of lotions or make-up could cover up the lines and blemishes, and her hair had absolutely refused to cooperate even after she’d pulled out the hair-spray and gel. As a result, she had arrived to work late and after running up seven flights of stairs-what was it with broken elevators these days?-and breaking the heel off one of her Manolo Blahniks, she’d staggered into the boardroom to find it empty.
“There was an issue with the Power Point, ma’am,” the secretary said quickly. “They had to move two floors down to Mr. Turner’s office. I’ll page them and let them know you’re on your way.”
“Thank you,” Aphrodite managed to say past the lump in her throat. The thought of going back down those stairs, of entering the meeting looking like a mess (and not even a hot one at that), made her want to cry.
Instead, she swallowed the lump, blinked back her tears, and hobbled back to the stairwell with her head as high as she could hold it.
---
“Um…”
It was suddenly difficult to focus. They were all staring at her; she could feel their eyes boring into her. Her tongue felt clumsy in her mouth, and her usual business-like manner had melted away completely. Whatever clever, sharp phrases she’d prepared for this newest marketing campaign had utterly fallen out of her head, and as she rummaged through her papers she realized she had left half of her proposal on her desk at the Lito.
This was all kinds of not good. It was one thing to not look quite as fabulous as she was accustomed, but losing her confidence and her capability for public speaking? That was just downright cruel.
Her shareholders and accountants and assistants were silent in their ergonomic chairs, still and statuesque for fear of drawing any particular attention to themselves. She glanced around the room with a growing sense of panic, sure that they were all judging her and thinking spiteful, unfair things. No doubt they were all telling themselves, Well, it had to happen someday. No woman can stay gorgeous and capable forever. She’s hit her peak and it’s all downhill from here...
“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I seem to have misplaced some of my paperwork. Shall we take a ten minute break?”
She limped to the bathroom as quickly as she could, painfully aware of the awkward glances she was getting as she sped past cubicles and couture offices. Her heels made a pitiful click-snap! retort against the tile floor in the ladies room, the uneven echo mocking her. The porcelain sink was frigid under her hands as she pressed her forehead to the cool glass of the mirror.
When she’d finally gotten her breathing under control, she pulled away-only to stare in disgust at the oily smudge of makeup and grease she’d left on the mirror. A handful of paper towels and some splashes of water only seemed to smear the mirror rather than clean it, and she finally tossed the wet wad into the trash with a hiccup of despair.
The door opened with a squeak, and she nearly dived into a stall to hide. It was the front desk secretary, a chubby young woman no more than thirty. She wouldn’t be called pretty by most standards, but her haircut was perfect for her face and her clothes showed an attention to detail as well as a good sense of fashion.
“I’m sorry if I startled you,” the secretary said, taking a step back. “I can leave if you need-”
“Oh, no,” Aphrodite said a little too quickly. “It’s fine. I’m-I’m just not having such a great day, as you might have noticed. I apologize-I should know this, but I seem to have forgotten your name?”
“It’s Myrtle… Myrtle Meriweather.” The girl’s face turned beet red. “Yeah, I know it’s a ridiculous name. Like something out of a joke.”
“Myrtle is a lovely name,” Aphrodite said firmly, finding a smile. “I love myrtle trees-in fact, they’re my favorite. Honestly.”
“Thanks. Um, I noticed you broke your heel… I’ve got some superglue in my desk that would probably fix it.”
Aphrodite looked down at her red Manolo Blahniks. They’d cost $789 and she’d only worn them once before. They were works of art in a shoe shape, and to slap the heel back on with common superglue…
“That would be wonderful, Myrtle, thank you,” she said finally, realizing that fully ruining a pair of fabulous shoes was the least of her problems.
Fifteen minutes later she felt a little bit better about the world. It was incredible how simply being able to walk evenly could change your entire outlook. She’d also remembered a bottle of rose perfume she’d left in her desk months ago, and while it wouldn’t stop her from sweating like a cow (was this how humans felt every day? Sticky and damp and ugh?) it was doing a good job of covering the scent of it.
She reentered the meeting and reshuffled her papers. “I apologize. It’s been a trying morning. Now, where was I?”
“We were going over the plans for Fashion Week, and the new line of everyday wear,” one of her assistants said helpfully.
“Ah, yes, well, I’ve been putting much thought into our newest line and I think we should be embracing a more eco-friendly outlook-recycled materials, cottons over synthetics, bamboo and natural elements.” She paused to catch her breath and discreetly scratch at her neck. “We’ve become synonymous with high fashion and couture, but I’d like our next move to be in an environmental direction. If we’re going to develop a line that’s more affordable for the average consumer, we should use some of our overhead to invest in- I’m sorry, is it just me or is it getting hotter in here?”
The rest of the room shrugged and shook their heads.
“It feels rather close all of a sudden,” Aphrodite said, feeling a trickle of sweat run down the side of her face.
“Your neck,” the nearest assistant said suddenly.
“What about it?”
“You’re breaking out in hives,” the woman said, standing quickly. “I think you’re having an allergic reaction! Do you have an epi-pen?”
“What the hell’s an epi-pen?” Aphrodite gasped, pulling at her collar.
“I’ll call an ambulance,” an accountant suggested, pulling out his BlackBerry.
“But I’m not allergic to anything,” Aphrodite protested as a second accountant poured her a glass of water and another assistant fanned her with his paperwork. “I can’t have allergies! It’s not like I’m mor-”
But what if she was? What if someone had stripped her of her immortality? She had no idea how-surely the Oracle would have foreseen something so drastic and warned them, and Zeus kept careful tabs on everyone and thing that was powerful enough to affect them in such a way-but maybe a black sorceress, one of Hectate’s wayward children, or a demi-god who’d gotten their hands onto a lost talisman or weapon…
What if she hadn’t just lost her powers-what if she could die? Had someone purposefully planted something in her office to kill her?
Panic threatened to choke her, which wasn’t difficult considering her throat was beginning to swell up painfully and her arms and chest felt afire with itchy hives.
“This can’t possibly be happening,” she croaked, tears streaming down her splotchy face. “It’s all a terrible nightmare, and I’m going to wake up any moment-”
---
Two hours later she was sitting up in her hospital bed while she paged through an Italian Vogue, covered in white benadryl lotion. It hadn’t been quite as dire as it had felt; the EMTs had immediately given her an injection before bundling her into the ambulance, and she had been breathing evenly and easily by the time they’d arrived at St. Mercy’s.
Still, that was as close to death as she ever wanted to come. She never could have imagined that fear would taste so bitter and sharp. No wonder mortals would do anything to escape death.
A knock at the door interrupted her study of the newest looks from Milan. It was Myrtle the helpful secretary, and a positively obscene amount of flowers.
“From everyone,” the girl explained, setting the arrangement down on the bedside table with some difficulty, spitting out leaves as she straightened. “Did they figure out what happened?”
“Apparently I’m allergic to roses,” Aphrodite said dryly. “I’ve worn that perfume almost every day for years, and today I’m allergic to it. I’m beginning to think I should have just stayed in bed today.”
“You won’t have to stay overnight?”
“No, I’m fine. I’m waiting for one of the family to come pick me up.” Aphrodite sighed and tossed the magazine aside. “I honestly don’t know how everyone can live like this.”
“What do you mean?”
“All of the effort and the nausea and the sweating and the acne. I’ll never take clear skin and manageable hair for granted again. Myrtle, are you happy with how you look?”
The secretary hesitated. “Well, not all the time. I think a lot about how nice a shorter nose would be, and I don’t like having so many freckles. But for the most part, I’m okay with me. I’ve gotten used to it.” She glanced up at the wall clock. “I should be getting back-I don’t think Janice can handle the phone by herself much longer. I’m glad you’re feeling better, Ms. Venus. Hope to see you in the morning.”
Myrtle was actually rather pretty when she smiled, and Aphrodite returned it without a thought.
Resignation is a remarkable talent mortals have, Aphrodite said to herself. I hope I don’t have to develop it…
---
Twenty minutes later she was in an elevator that was playing the most appalling muzak she’d ever had the misfortune to hear. She’d scrubbed off most of the lotion and managed to put her hair back into a ponytail, and while her blouse and skirt were certainly more rumpled and disheveled than she liked, at least she wasn’t leaving in a hospital gown.
It was just too bad that Poseidon was still out of the country, that the only person at the Lito who had the time to pick her up was-
“How have you been, Psyche?” she asked, if only to drown out the elevator music.
“Fine,” her daughter-in-law replied shortly, staring straight ahead. “You?”
“This hasn’t been my best day ever,” Aphrodite said in a carefully neutral voice. “And Eros?”
“He’s been working himself into exhaustion. Otherwise, he’s fine.”
“And Hedone? I haven’t heard from her in months.”
“She’s good. She’s enjoying Stanford. She’ll be home for Dionysius and Ariadne’s wedding-Zeus wanted her to be the cupbearer in the ceremony.”
“Ah yes, the wedding. So Zeus has given his permission for Ariadne to formally join the family?”
“Does that surprise you?” Psyche asked with just a hint of an edge. “No one could expect Dionysius to marry a mortal-that would just be plain cruel.”
Aphrodite felt very awkward indeed. She remembered quite plainly, just as Psyche did, how loudly she had argued with Zeus and the others to withhold the ambrosia from Psyche when Eros first asked to marry her. Being who she was, she had expected Zeus to give in to her demands and leave the girl mortal-but the King had not wavered. It had been perhaps the first time she had not gotten her way.
Remembering all of this as she glanced over at her daughter-in-law, Aphrodite felt very petty and weak. Psyche had been a good wife to her son, and there was no denying her beauty and intelligence. She stood tall and confident, uncowed as ever by her disapproving mother-in-law, and for the first time Aphrodite felt smaller in comparison. Psyche’s beauty was not waning; she was not sweating nervously in wrinkled clothes, her face splotchy and red. If Aphrodite remained diminished, if her powers did not return to her, she would always be less than Psyche.
It was humbling. And she didn’t like it at all.
The elevator door dinged and slid open. Holding on tightly to her purse, Aphrodite followed Psyche out into the lobby. The automatic doors whooshed, the car was only a few feet away-
Flash bulbs burst to her right as a clamor of voices shouted to her left, “Aphrodite Venus! Care to tell us the nature of your visit? Is it serious? Is it true you’ll be checking into rehab soon?”
She didn’t burst into tears. But it was a very close thing.
---
“Where is she?” he demanded sharply.
Pan pointed over his shoulder, face carefully neutral. “The pool.”
He pushed past him without hesitation. The door was locked; he simply twisted until the metal gave way with a snap and stepped inside.
She was sitting in the shallows, the water just up to her nose, her arms around her legs and her knees tucked under her chin. Hair was plastered to her face, floating over her shoulders, and she was wearing a black one-piece. He never would have thought she even owned a one-piece-she loved showing off her midriff too much to cover it up. But there it was.
“I hear you’ve had a bad day.”
She startled at the sound of his voice, sunk too far into her own thoughts and melancholia to have heard him enter, and looked up with a splash.
“What are you doing back?” she said thickly, her voice harsh from a raw throat. “Thought you were in China till the weekend.”
“Psyche called me,” he said, pulling off his tie, dropping it and his cream jacket onto the closest lounge chair. “It sounded like you needed me more than the company.”
“Psyche called you?” The incredulity was clear.
“Believe it or not, but she cares,” he said with a small smile, unbuttoning his shirt. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that she cares about you; but if anything happened to you, Eros would be effected, and she certainly cares about him.”
“Yet again the girl shows me up,” she grumbled.
“It wouldn’t rankle so much if you didn’t hold onto grudges so long,” he suggested, stepping out of his pants and into the pool.
“You’ll ruin those boxers,” she said peevishly. “The chlorine will bleach out the black.”
“You can get me new ones,” he said, sitting beside her. “So. Tell me about your day.”
“I shouldn’t have to. Isn’t it obvious?”
“No, not really.”
“I’m hideous,” she said dully, tucking her knees under her chin again, looking at the pool instead of him. “Someone did something and now I’ve lost my beauty. My confidence. Everything.”
“Why must you always be so melodramatic?” he demanded, pulling back the wet strands of hair plastered to her face.
“Melodramatic? I have wrinkles. And acne. And other disgusting things I don’t even know the names of. I’m repulsive.”
“I’m not repulsed.”
“What if I stay like this? What if I’m actually mortal and I grow old and die?” She shivered, her arms tightening.
“I think it’s more likely that someone is playing a cruel trick on you,” he said reassuringly. “You know it’s near to impossible for anyone to permanently strip us of our powers.”
“I’d like to find out who’s responsible and feed them to Hades’ dog.” She shivered again. When she spoke next it was in a quiet, small voice he’d never heard before. “Poseidon, I’m frightened.”
He stood abruptly, stepping down the slope into the deeper water, reaching for her hands. “Come with me.”
Her toes could barely touch the bottom when he stopped. “Have I ever told you about the first time I saw you?”
She shook her head mutely.
“Well,” he said slowly, raising her arms and pulling her closer until she had no choice but to wrap them over his shoulders and around his neck. “There you were in your giant clamshell, looking rather chilly-it was a windy day, I remember, and you had nothing on, poor thing-and I said to myself, ‘That has to be beauty personified.’ And, as I usually am, I was right.”
She smiled.
“I wanted to go over and introduce myself, but there were all of those annoying cherubs flitting about, and Zeus showed up almost immediately to whisk you off to Olympus for the Council meeting, and Hestia had just turned down my proposal and, well, the timing just wasn’t right.”
Staring into his eyes like this, she wanted to count the flecks of gold amidst the vivid blue of his irises.
“And then Zeus had to go and marry you off to Hephaestus. We all knew that wasn’t the brightest of Zeus’ ideas-he probably knew it himself-but no one wanted war or squabbles or endless bickering over you. Of course, you being the headstrong and frequently stupid woman that you are, that didn’t stop you from starting plenty of wars down on Earth-all because of your beauty.”
He said it bluntly but somehow without a hint of judgment, and she felt her face darken with embarrassment and shame.
“Now that is interesting,” he said softly.
“What is?”
“The old you, the supremely confident and self-assured you, would never admit fault. It’s just not part of your nature. But right now, in this moment, you can understand the folly of your actions.”
“We’ve all made mistakes,” she said quickly. “You haven’t lived a faultless life either, darling.”
“Oh, I know,” he agreed amiably. “I’ve toyed with mortals and destroyed cities, sometimes simply out of spite. I can be as merciless and blind as my seas. That’s in my nature. But I have my gentle moments, too. I can rescue and soothe just as readily as I can devastate. But you, Aphrodite, you’ve always been hard and unflinching, especially after Eros was born. Eros took on all of the duties that required tenderness and sweetness, and you just became sharper. With you, beauty was always an edged sword, a weapon to be used to get your way or to punish.”
“I haven’t always!” she protested weakly.
“You have,” he said gently. “You’re too unflinching and absolute. You’ve always used your beauty in a selfish way. It’s your biggest flaw. You’ve never used your powers to help, only to hurt.”
There was a pain building in her chest, as if she’d been punched.
“I know it hurts to hear it,” he said, hands warm beneath the water as they pressed against her hips. “But you should hear it now, when it might sink in.”
“I have never felt weaker,” she whispered past the lump in her throat. “I’m scared and I’m defenseless and you’re saying all of these cruel, terrible things. How could you?”
“Because someone should have said it a long time ago.”
She tried to pull away from him. “I thought you cared about me, that you understood and wanted to support me-”
“Aphrodite, think for just a moment.” His arm tightened around her waist, refusing to let her escape. “I say all of this now because you’ll actually hear it. Because you have no defenses, no way to deflect it impassively with a flick of your haughty hand.”
“So you want me to hurt, that’s wonderful,” she said, turning her face away from him.
“No, I want you to be better than what you were. Beauty is a powerful tool in the mortal world, and you could use it to good effect if you had the motivation to. You told me you wanted to change and go against your petty nature-I’m trying to show you how.”
She was silent and still for quite some time, staring down at the rippling blue water, her heart and head in a turmoil.
“And what if I never get my beauty back?” she asked quietly, turning back to him. “What if I just wither away like an old crone?”
“That won’t happen,” he said firmly, cupping her face with one wet hand.
“How can you be sure?” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes.
“Because I’ll find whoever’s responsible and rip their heart out before I let that happen,” he promised fervently, kissing her.
---
BEEP BEEP BEEP
She hit the alarm off with one quick, decisive slap and rolled over, reaching out for him just as he reached for her.
“Sleep okay?” he murmured against her hair.
“Mmm-hmm,” she said, kissing his neck. “You?”
“Fantastic.”
She sat up, letting the covers fall back. “And?”
“…And?”
“Am I beautiful?”
He looked up at her, eyes half-lidded, and a slow smile spread across his face. “You’ve always been beautiful to me.”
“But am I really?” She demanded. “Or do I still look like last night?”
“You were beautiful even then,” he smiled. “And you’re beautiful now.” He reached up and pulled her back down for a long, lingering kiss, and when they parted she smiled.
“Go look in the mirror if you don’t trust my judgment,” he said with a laugh.
She greeted her reflection with a grin. Mirrors never lie. But then again, neither had Poseidon.
“I’ve decided what to do with the proceeds from my next line,” she called to him from the bathroom as she started up the shower.
“Oh?” He leaned against the doorway, his robe hanging open, hair disheveled from the bed.
“Every cent will go towards the oil spill clean-up. I bet I could fund several wildlife rescue teams, too. And how about a telethon? Those are always popular, and I bet I could talk to some of the Hollywood crowd-”
It was hard to talk when he was pressed against her like that, his short ginger beard rough against her shoulder, his hands sliding down…
---
Myrtle Meriweather looked up from her computer screen. “Good morning, Ms. Venus. Feeling better?”
“Enormously,” she replied with a dazzling smile. “Myrtle, I was wondering if you’d like a raise?”
“A raise?” the girl echoed, a bewildered expression crossing her face.
“Well, I looked up your records and you had several charitable internships listed: Habitat for Humanity, Greenpeace, PETA… Are you still interested in non-profit charities?”
“Um, yes, I am,” Myrtle said, flustered and red in the face.
“And you double majored in advertising design and business, I saw.”
“That’s right.”
“Then that’s just perfect, because I’m planning on opening up a new division in the company that’s solely aimed at charitable events and programs. I was hoping you’d be interested in helping to supervise it. You’d get your own office, of course, and that raise I mentioned.”
Myrtle pinched her arm. “I’m sorry Ms. Venus, but are you serious?”
“Utterly. You shouldn’t look so shocked; you’re fully qualified for the position.”
“And you didn’t even know who I was yesterday,” the secretary said weakly.
“I didn’t know a lot of things yesterday,” Aphrodite said casually with another smile. “Go ahead and think it over for a bit, I don’t expect you to make such a big decision immediately. Just let me know when you’re ready.”
---
Poseidon scanned the bar, skipping over the crowd until his eyes landed on the hat he was looking for.
“Hello, Hermes,” he said calmly, slipping onto the adjacent stool, waving the bartender over with a lazy flick of his wrist.
“Hullo, Poseidon,” replied Hermes, taking another pull of his bottle of beer. “Surprised to see you. This isn’t exactly your sort of scene.”
“It’s yours, though,” Poseidon said.
“Ah, I see. So this isn’t just some happy coincidence. Why were you looking for me?”
“It’s about yesterday.”
“Uh-huh? It was a Wednesday-what else did you want to know?”
“Who did you make a deal with?”
Hermes hesitated for a second, the bottle halfway to his mouth. “What deal?”
“You’re fast-I know that. Probably faster than me. But you’re not as powerful,” Poseidon said in a warning undertone. “And even you have to pause for breath eventually. I swear, Hermes, if you don’t come clean to me right now-”
“She’s certainly worked her magic on you, eh?” Hermes snickered with a roll of his eyes.
Poseidon’s glare would have boiled water. “Believe me, Hermes. You do not want to fuck with me about this.”
The God of Thieves sighed dramatically, setting his beer down with a loud clunk. “You know, you really need to develop a sense of humor. Okay, I admit it: I made a deal. Aphrodite lost her powers for a day, got to feel what it was like to be normal and average, and got some unflattering photos splashed across the world’s papers. Big fucking deal.”
“With who? Who did it to her?”
“Ah, Poseidon,” Hermes said slowly, an infuriatingly cheeky grin spreading across his boyish face. “A magician never gives away all of his tricks.”
He tipped his hat politely, and with a sudden bang had disappeared in a rush of wind and smoke.
Poseidon cursed under his breath, downed his shot of whiskey, and stormed from the bar, leaving a very confused clientele behind him.