Soul in Darkness (Page 36)

Cupid took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before dropping it. He would not ask the king of the gods for anything. The last time he’d gone to Jupiter, hoping to find out his true paternal parentage, the god had laughed in his face and said, “If your mother does not know which of her many lovers sired you, then it is not your fate to know either.”

As far as Cupid knew, Jupiter was not one of his possible fathers, but the king of the gods had been burned by the exploits of Venus and was forced to put out one too many firestorms started by her antics. So be it.

“No. It will happen on its own when the time is right.”

“A romantic,” Venus said, earning a glare from her son that made her laugh.

A bird flew near, alighting itself on a nearby branch to catch Venus’s attention.

The goddess peered up. “Winged creature, if you relieve yourself anywhere near me I will smite you.”

The bird puffed up its feathers and flew away.

Cupid grinned. “Be kind to the poor beasts.”

She eyed his feathers with admiration—snowy white, edged in smoke gray, his wingspan impressive. “You are the only winged creature I trust.”

Silence fell until Cupid asked, “Why have you sought me, Mother?”

All traces of humor and ease faded from her face. “I have been wronged by a human, and I seek your help.”

Cupid’s hand tightened on his bow. “Who has dared wrong you, Mother?”

“A girl.” She practically snarled the words, and Cupid’s brow drew tight. It had been over a century since a human had earned his mother’s ire. He couldn’t imagine what a mere girl could have done to catch the attention of Venus, much less upset her so.

“Tell me everything.” And so, she did, beginning with the island where the girl resided, and he stopped her. “Wait. Did we not visit there recently? The king and queen with pure souls?”

“Yes,” she spat. “The very same ones who had been trying years for a child. The queen was barren, so I blessed them with fertility. Now they have three daughters, and the third believes herself as beautiful as me.”

Cupid laughed outright. “How old is this silly girl, Mother?”

“She is not a simple, silly child,” Venus assured him. “She is nearly of marrying age. And for the past year she has accepted gifts from the people that should have been for me. She has turned the eye of my worshipers, stealing my offerings and relishing praise meant for me. My alters in the surrounding area have been bare. They say…” Venus stopped to compose herself. “They say she is more beautiful than me.”

“Impossible.” A name tickled the back of Cupid’s mind, a name he’d heard murmured among humans in passing. “Is she, by chance, Psyche?”

Venus’s eyes blazed. “Of course, you have heard of her! Have you seen her? What are her flaws?”

“No, Mother.” Cupid shook his head. “I have never seen her.” The name Psyche had stood out to him because it translated to Soul. Now, hearing of her vanity and audacity, the name was ironic. Her soul would have to be completely polluted to think she could compete with a goddess.

“What would you have me do?” Cupid asked. Girl or not, he would punish the imposter goddess, reminding her exactly who and what she was.

A wicked smile played across the naturally red lips of Venus. “I would have you humiliate her. Make her think she has fallen in love with the most hideous and vile of men. Someone far beneath her station. Make her devotion for him so powerful that she would elope with the monster to break the heart of her parents who turned their backs on me, forgetting the blessings I gave them.”

Cupid nodded, his wicked grin joining hers. “Consider it done.”

FRIENDLY FIRE

It was not the first time Cupid had been sent on a mission by his mother, and he was certain it would not be the last. It honored him to be trusted by Venus above all others.

The moment Cupid spotted the island from afar he was reminded of when he had been there last. Everything from the briny warmth of the air to the layout of the long island, starting flat at one end with fields and orchards, and layering upward to the summit of its palace and royal fortress surrounded by rocky edges that fell majestically into lagoons and gully caves. He thought it was breathtaking then, for an Earth place, and it was just as gorgeous to him now. It soured his attitude knowing the rulers had forsaken their gods, especially his mother who had taken time to personally see to their fertility.

After today they would realize, too late, the error of their ways.

It seemed only days had passed since he had been there, but in human time it was at least twenty-five years. A blink of an eye in a god’s time, but long enough to make humans forget. That was the problem with humans. Well, the primary problem. They so easily forgot. Over and over the gods showed themselves, proving their glory and might. But all it took was the short passage of time for humans to begin questioning again—for them to start believing themselves superior to those they could not see, and wondering if the gods were indeed real, only to come running to the altars when tragedy and famine struck. The gods wearied of this vicious cycle. Someday, if the humans were not careful, the gods would cease to show themselves at all.

Cupid landed at the edge of a craggy cliff, scouting, then shot up to crouch on the edge of the royal walls. Humans couldn’t see him unless he wished it so. He peered down at the soldiers practicing with swords for yet another war in another age on another land. As long as there were humans there would be war.

The god flew over the ramparts then into the castle, searching for the youngest princess while also keeping an eye out for any hideous male he encountered to become her “love.” All it would take was a whisper in the male’s ear to coax him close enough to Psyche, and a prick of his arrow for her to open her eyes to the foul man. Cupid took his time and savored the search.

It turned out she was not in the castle like he had expected. His immaculate hearing picked up her name farther down the hill, past the rows of cliffside houses to the market.

Perfect, Cupid thought. He would catch her in the act of accepting worship from the people. Perhaps if he were angry enough he would show his true godly self for the first time, frightening the people nearly to death and causing odes to be written about his might and splendor for centuries to come.

Nah.

The more faithless humans were, the less the gods were willing to prove themselves. To glimpse a god was a gift beyond measure. Rarely did a human deserve such sanctity.

Cupid pulled in his wings and drifted down beside a stall emitting a stench that made his eyes water. One look through the slated cracks of wood and he nearly laughed out loud. The pig farmer was up to his knees and elbows in feces, his pockmarked face red with frustration as he tried to catch the swine. His soul was as dark as the grime that covered him. He swore with every filthy word known to man, gritting his gray, half-rotted teeth. When he finally captured a creature, holding the piglet against his rounded belly tightly enough to make the animal squeal in pain as he cursed it to the nether regions of the Earth, Cupid knew.

This would be Psyche’s husband.

Now all he had to do was find her and lead the two of them into a nearby vicinity so the pigman’s face would be the first the princess saw after being struck with Cupid’s bow. Too simple. Vengeance belonged to Venus.

Although the god could make himself invisible to the human eye, his physical body was still very much present. Not wanting to be touched in his true form, even accidentally, he shifted into his Earthen form. Brown hair in waves around his face. Brown eyes with dark brows. Leaner muscle. Less height. Thinner lips. Plain cream linen draped across his shoulders and wound around his waist held by a simple rope. Worn leather sandals. Many men wore their weapons as part of their attire, but Cupid could not disguise his bow to look anything other than majestic, so he kept it invisible against his back. Although he considered this form minimal, it still received him no end of attention from humans. He could not help the vitality he gave off.

Cupid merged into the mass of bodies hocking goods and bargaining. Smells of fresh mackerel and sardines wafted past. A warm blast of yeast. Pungent smoked eel and sun-ripened citrus. The god took in the Earthly sights and smells, ignoring the eyes that landed on him and lingered, their souls a mix of light and faded. None were especially bright or dark. His eyes were peeled for crowds around a single person, but oddly the atmosphere was usual human commotion. Nothing stood out the way a princess’s presence would warrant.

He was about to open his senses to see if she’d gone back to the castle when he rounded a corner to a street of housewares, clothing, and colorful adornments and nearly collided with a burly man in plain clothes, who stood at attention like a guard. The man looked him over, giving him a nod when Cupid passed some silent test. A guard in disguise? The man’s eyes went straight forward again, and the god followed his gaze to a stall selling hand-carved animal trinkets.

Cupid sucked in a breath and nearly stumbled back. He could not recall a single time in his existence when he had been without grace.

But neither had he ever seen a soul so bright.

The glowing woman leaned over a table, her face and body covered by a plain shawl. Her hand, which appeared lovely and young, lightly touched the face of a cat bauble. Cupid’s heart, which rarely ever changed its forlorn, steady beat, was pumping too fast.