18. Orpheus

18

ORPHEUS

Eurydice isn’t happy about the arrangements Charon made. Her anger is written across the lines of her gorgeous face and the tension in her shoulders. “She should come with us.”

To his credit, Charon doesn’t flinch in response to her sharp words. “Whoever hosts her will automatically be in danger. Medusa and Calypso are far better qualified to handle anything that will arise as a result of her procedure today—and eliminate any external threat.”

I don’t know much about Medusa, aside from her reputation and the fact that today she watched me like she was a wolf about to rip into a particularly tasty bunny. People never really spoke openly about the fact that she was Athena’s knife in the dark for many years, or about how she disappeared unexpectedly a while back and was never seen again. Calypso, on the other hand, used to move in circles that I’m familiar with. She is a few years older than me, but it was well known that she was Odysseus’s mistress. At least until she, too, disappeared. I hadn’t realized that they’d run off together. Good for them.

“He’s right,” I find myself saying. I almost regret speaking up when she turns that anger on me, but Charon had a point earlier. I might be willing to let her walk me like a dog, but that doesn’t mean I have to be submissive in every aspect of our interactions. There’s a serious risk that if I piss her off, she’ll send me away, but better to know that will be the end result now. Otherwise I’ll fall even deeper into the trap of hope, only to have it ripped away later on. “You did your part and got her here. She’ll be taken care of, and you can go see her tomorrow if you’d like.”

“If I wanted your opinion, I’d fucking ask.” She drags her hands across her face. “I really don’t like that you’re both ganging up on me.”

I don’t move toward her, because I’m still not entirely sure what the parameters of our relationship are, but I soften my tone. “We’re just trying to take care of you, Eurydice.” That, at least, is the truth both Charon and I can agree on.

She glances to where Calypso is ushering Ariadne into a black sedan that is identical to the one Charon drives. Medusa arrived a few minutes ago, and she doesn’t look any happier than anyone else about this turn of events. She glares at Eurydice, her muscular arms crossed over her chest.

Eurydice shivers. “I know when I’ve been outplayed. Fine. You win this time. Let’s go home.”

Home. I know she doesn’t intend the word to have any deeper meaning, but that damned hope flutters in my chest all the harder. I want it to mean something. I’m not foolish enough to believe that I’ve done anywhere near enough penance to make things right, but I have a direction and a goal now. That’s more than I’ve had for the last year.

It certainly feels like home on the silent drive to Charon’s town house and through the tense meal where no one quite looks at each other. Not exactly what I was hoping for when she said those three magic words, but it’s familiar enough in its own way. My parents have been together for something like thirty-five years, though they never bothered to get around to the marriage part. While they definitely care about each other, there have been whole years where I was certain they didn’t like each other even a little bit. This dinner feels a little too close to that for my peace of mind.

At least it does until Charon sets down his silverware and leans back in his chair. Eurydice tenses, obviously expecting him to start in on her about ditching her security detail today. But he turns those hard blue eyes in my direction. “Why don’t you paint anymore?”

It’s an effort not to shrink down in my chair. I am rich, handsome, and from a legacy family, but none of those things have anything to do with me. I didn’t earn them. They are mine through an accident of birth. But painting? That’s something I always felt good taking credit for. It’s a craft I worked hard to develop, and my career exists because of that skill set.

A skill set I haven’t been able to deploy for nearly a year.

I have a dozen answers to that question, ones I’ve given repeatedly in the months since I stopped painting. None of them are the truth. Even as I call myself seven kinds of fool, I give an honest answer. “I lost my muse, and after that my world went gray. It’s hard to find inspiration in a world without color.”

Eurydice sucks in a sharp breath, but I can’t make myself look at her. Not when it feels like I just laid my heart on the table before us. For his part, Charon merely seems thoughtful. He finally says, “I’ve decided how you can make things right, Eurydice.”

She sputters. “I didn’t do anything wrong…”

He turns his head slowly to look at her, and her words die out. Charon leans forward and props his elbows on the table. “You want to try that again?”

She opens her mouth like she wants to continue arguing, but then her shoulders drop and her head bows. “Look, I was never in any danger, and this needed to be done for the benefit of the city as a whole.”

“Your sister and Hades might buy that line of bullshit, but I know better. I don’t give a fuck about Olympus. You made me a promise, and you broke it.”

It’s fascinating to watch her expressions flicker over her face. I don’t get the feeling that she and Charon argue often. Based on what they’ve both said in the last couple days, it seems like he’s taken the role of the supportive protector. He made her feel safe enough to find her feet, and that doesn’t necessarily happen by kicking them out from beneath her the way he is now. It’s enough to make me wonder how many times he’s bitten his tongue until it bled to keep his worry inside. I bet it’s happened more than once.

She finally sighs. “You can’t expect me to move around wrapped in bubble wrap. This city has always been a dangerous place, and it’s only getting more so as time goes on. If you put me in a cage, I’ll wither away to nothing.”

Charon shakes his head slowly, his lips curving just a bit. “That’s a nice little straw man argument you came up with, baby. The city being dangerous isn’t the problem. You making a call that will no doubt benefit the Thirteen in the ongoing conflict doesn’t matter. What matters is that you lied.”

She curses and flops back against her seat. “Okay, fine. I lied. I told you I wouldn’t go anywhere without a security detail, and I had every intention of slipping them the first chance I got. Are you happy now?”

“Fuck no, I’m not happy. But at least we’re getting somewhere.” He turns to me. “I want to see what you’ve got.”

“What?” He jumped subjects so quickly, I can’t keep up. “What are you talking about?”

“Eurydice owes me an apology. Truth be told, she owes you one too, because she put you in a position where you couldn’t talk back without fear of her leaving you behind. As her punishment, I want you to paint her.”

I’m already shaking my head. “I just got done telling you that I don’t paint anymore.” Even if I have started to feel the first glimmer of inspiration in the last two days. It’s not enough, not to do anything resembling the kind of work I used to be capable of.

“I’m not telling you to make a painting of her, Orpheus. I want you to paint her body. And Eurydice? You will be good and sit perfectly still for the duration. At the end, if we’re both satisfied, you’ll be forgiven.”

Heat licks through me. I turn just in time to see Eurydice’s eyes go wide. “You can’t be serious.”

“You don’t know how agonizing the drive was to pick you up today. Hades didn’t give me any information except that you needed help and needed it as soon as possible. A little bit of sensual agony won’t hurt you, baby. I think it’s more than a fair trade.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“So be it.” She motions at me. “What paint do you need?”

Charon pushes slowly to his feet. “I already have the materials.” He doesn’t give either of us a chance to argue before he turns and walks out of the dining room. A few seconds later, his footsteps ascend the staircase and move in the direction of the bedroom. He didn’t technically give us an order to follow, but the intent is clear all the same.

Eurydice looks shaken. “Did you two talk about this beforehand?”

I shake my head, feeling just as rattled as she looks. “No. We talked a little, while you were in the clinic, but not about this. I don’t know when the fuck he had the time to get body paint.” Assuming those are the materials he’s talking about. Theoretically, other paints would be safe to put on the skin, but I don’t feel comfortable getting experimental. Body paint exists for a reason.

We rise at the same time and follow Charon up the stairs to his room. I can’t help sneaking glances at Eurydice all the while. There are plenty of nerves present, but she shows the same anticipation I feel curling through my stomach. It’s happening again, that strange alchemy that seems to pop up when the three of us are together.

Once in Charon’s room, we find him laying a dark sheet over the bed. I still can’t believe his audacity. He had no doubt in his mind that we would both obey. He was right; here we are, obediently waiting for our next command. I can’t help but lift my brows when he pulls out a bucket of previously opened body paint. “You’re just full of surprises.”

It’s hard to tell in the low light, but I think Charon might be blushing. “There was a party several months ago where a particular kind of costume was highly recommended.”

Next to me, Eurydice frowns. “I don’t remember any party.”

“That’s because you weren’t invited.” Before she can do more than tense a little, he continues, “Hades and Persephone presided over the revelry.”

“Oh. Oh.” She looks at the body paint with new interest. “What was the theme?”

“We are not discussing it.” He sets the bucket on the ground by the bed and focuses on me. “I don’t have much in the way of brushes. We’ll just have to make do.” He holds up two brushes that have seen better days. They’re still better than I expected.

“Those will work. I’ll be right back.” I leave the room and head down to the kitchen to grab a plate from the cabinet. It takes me a few tries to find the right one, and by the time I get back up to the bedroom, Eurydice is in the process of taking off her clothes. I busy myself with examining the paint colors and dosing out a little bit of each onto the plate in a half circle. I might not have used this particular product before, but there’s some comfort in the familiarity of this process.

The brush feels strange my hand. For a moment I have the panicked thought that maybe I really don’t know how to paint anymore. Maybe it’s like everyone says—if you don’t use your skills, you’ll lose them. I sure as fuck haven’t been using it.

They aren’t expecting me to create a masterpiece though. Or rather, it will be a masterpiece that no one but the three of us will see. One meant to be destroyed in the shower later. In the past, the idea of creating art that disappears without an audience would have me turning away from the project. Tonight, it removes some of the pressure I didn’t realize I was feeling.

Charon climbs onto the bed and leans back against the headboard. He pats the mattress next to him. “Come here, baby. Lie down and give him a good canvas to work with.”

“I don’t see how this is much of a punishment.” She obeys though. I get a devastating look at her ass as she climbs onto the bed and arranges herself where he directed. Then they both look at me, and my heart drops into my stomach. I want this so desperately.

Intent solidifies inside me. Up until this point, I’ve been a passive party, willing to let Eurydice do as she would. If she had sent me away, I would’ve gone. But the time for that has passed.

I’ll do anything to stay. No matter the cost.