Therese was glad when she came home Thursday afternoon to find herself alone—except for the company of her pets—because she could hardly contain her excitement. She couldn’t wait to have more of her questions answered, to find out what the Furies were like, and to spend more time with Than.
The phone rang just after she had stripped down for a shower, but she picked it up in case it was Carol, or better, Than. It was Vicki Stern.
“So can you go to the movies tonight?”
Therese had completely forgotten her promise to call Vicki back. “I’m sorry. I’ve actually got plans again. I was invited to have supper with another friend.”
“But I asked you first, Therese.”
“This is a family thing that came up. I’m sorry. My aunt’s in town and…”
“You just said it was a friend.”
“A friend of the family. Hey, let’s shoot for next week, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Bye now.”
“Bye.”
“Ugh,” Therese said to herself. What was she going to do with that girl?
After her shower, she threw on a comfy t-shirt and shorts and went downstairs to make a batch of brownies to take to tonight’s dinner. She hummed as she poured the chocolate batter into a pan and popped the pan in the preheated oven. Although she was humming “Poker Face,” it dawned on her that she wasn’t faking this new feeling of liberty as she had on the dance floor. Something about Than’s presence and his apparent love for her had freed her from the dark depression that had threatened to overtake her. She still wanted to go to the Underworld, but now she could do it without dying. She could be with her parents and the sweetest, sexiest guy she had ever met.
Things hadn’t turned out so badly for her after all.
As she made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, she wondered if she truly loved Than. There was no doubt that she was enamored with him, no doubt that she crushed on him harder than anyone she had ever met, no doubt that she longed to be with him every second he was away from her. But could she really say she loved him when she barely knew him? And if her answer was yes, as crazy as that would sound, did she love him enough to spend all of eternity with him?
She took her plate and glass of milk with her upstairs so she could log on to her laptop to learn more about Thanatos and the Furies. She found a passage from an ancient poet named Hesiod who described Than and his brother this way:
And there the children of dark Night have their dwellings, Sleep and Death, awful gods. The glowing Sun never looks upon them with his beams, neither as he goes up into heaven, nor as he comes down from heaven. And the former of them roams peacefully over the earth and the sea's broad back and is kindly to men; but the other has a heart of iron, and his spirit within him is pitiless as bronze: whomsoever of men he has once seized he holds fast: and he is hateful even to the deathless gods.
A new doubt worked its way into Therese’s head as she processed the description. Could Than be deceiving her only to show his true self once she’s his wife and it’s too late for her to change her mind? Was he like his father, Hades, willing to trick her into becoming his queen of death?
Impossible, she thought.
She came across three different images depicting him. One showed him wielding a sword, wearing a shaggy beard and head of curly black hair. His ugly face looked fierce, unrelenting, and cruel. The second image was one she had seen that day she had come home from the hospital: the Grim Reaper, thin like a skeleton, cloaked in black, bearing a deadly scythe. The third image still wasn’t her Than, but was closer to how she viewed him: a winged boy, like Cupid, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old, with a sweet air about him.
Therese knew these were all human interpretations of him and not factual renditions, but, nevertheless, uncertainty about his identity gripped her heart and made her anxious. Her anxiety increased when she read that the Furies had wreaths of snakes in their hair and blood dripping from their eyes and were horrible to behold. Meg had been beautiful. Had she somehow disguised herself?
After more reading, the oven timer beeped, so she went downstairs to take the brownies out and let them cool on the stove top. What a strange circumstance she found herself in: baking brownies for a handful of gods from the Underworld.
The ringing of the telephone startled her from where she had been standing in the kitchen deep in thought. She hoped it wasn’t Vicki. She picked up the phone. “Hello?”
It was Carol calling to check on her, which gave Therese the opportunity to tell her about her supper plans. Carol seemed relieved, for she and Richard had lost track of time and now wouldn’t need to rush back home. Therese hung up and went upstairs to her closet to figure out what to wear. Nothing in her wardrobe seemed good enough for a dinner with gods.
Standing there in the small walk-in closet, she thought of her mother. Normally, she would ask her what she should wear, for her mother seemed to know the latest style, maybe because she worked around college kids every day. Mom could be oblivious to so many things around her, but she had seemed to always notice fashion.
Therese went back downstairs to the master bedroom. Across the hall from it was a guest bedroom, where Carol was staying. Neither Carol nor Therese was ready to disturb the master bedroom. Therese had taken the bottle of Haiku perfume, but had touched nothing else.
Now as she stood there, perfectly alone, she went to her parents’ bed and lay down on her belly with her face in her mother’s pillow, taking in her scent. She took her dad’s pillow and practically inhaled it. His scent washed over her along with a current of tears. She pulled back the covers and crawled beneath them and wrapped herself in their smells. She closed her eyes, willing herself to dream, but there was nothing. After about twenty minutes, she climbed from the bed, not troubling to make it up again, and went into her parents’ closet where their scents were even stronger. She gingerly touched their garments. Would she ever wear something of her mother’s without falling apart? Could she dare part with her father’s clothes by giving them to charity?
She left the closet and went to her mother’s dresser. She opened the tiny drawers of her wooden jewelry box, a gift from Therese’s father before Therese was born. She took a diamond necklace from one of the drawers and held it up to her throat, gazing at her reflection in the dresser mirror. Twelve round stones linked together on a delicate golden chain made a beautiful choker around her neck. Maybe one of these days she would find an occasion to wear it. Maybe she would take it with her when she became the goddess of death.
She laughed nervously. “I have lost my mind,” she whispered.
Therese tucked the necklace back into its drawer, closed the drawer, and went back upstairs. She was surprised to find Clifford had not come down with her, but had chosen to stay on her bed. She hadn’t given much thought to how much he probably missed her parents, too. She now shuddered at the thought of leaving him and Jewels and Puffy forever.
Therese returned to her own closet again. She finally chose a short red skirt and tight white, short-sleeved sweater that she thought made her boobs look bigger. She slipped on her white wedge sandals and looked over herself in the mirror. She picked up her hair to see which looked better—down or up—and decided to stick with it down, the way her father liked it.
Her heart felt tight as she wondered if she should have told someone the truth about her hosts tonight. What if they killed her and took her down to the Underworld before she could say goodbye? What would her aunt and the Holts think if Therese never returned? Should she leave a note just in case?
I’m being paranoid, she thought. Than would never hurt me.
Therese went to the kitchen to cut up the brownies and put them on a platter. She folded plastic wrap across them to keep away bugs during her walk through the forest to the Melner cabin. She looked like a normal girl headed toward a normal neighborhood potluck, or something; not a possibly deranged girl with illusions of eating with gods.
She put the platter down on the counter and swept her dog up in her arms. “I love you, Clifford. Be a good boy. I’ll be home soon.”
Than gave Therese a bashful smile when he answered the door in his khaki shorts and a short-sleeved denim shirt. She was glad she had come. She didn’t care what happened to her. She wanted to be with him.
“What is this?” he asked of the platter she handed him.
“Brownies. Have you ever tasted some?”
“You obviously aren’t talking about nymphs.” He looked confused.
Therese threw back her head and laughed. “Chocolate and sugar. They’re for dessert.”
He gave her a sheepish grin as he led her through the living area and into the kitchen. He sat the brownies down on the kitchen bar. “Thanks. I can’t wait to taste them.”
The Melner cabin was similar to her house in that the living room and kitchen were open to one another. But in the Melner cabin, the stairs started near the front entrance instead of the back. At the back of the house, off of the kitchen, where Therese’s stairs would be, a door led to a dining room. A huge bay window opened to the forest climbing the mountain behind the house. Therese could see a flagstone patio and grill outside.
Than’s two sisters were already gathered waiting for her with the table set. They stood up when she entered, their round eyes shining with the light of the crystal chandelier hanging over the center of the beautiful table scape.
Therese recognized Meg even though her thick blonde curls were loosed from their usual bun and spilling out down the length of her back. Her beautiful face was without makeup, and Therese now realized that her lips were naturally deep red. Meg wore the black go-go boots from the night before with a short black fitted dress. Unlike last night, she wore red ruby studs in her ears, matching stones in rings on her fingers, and one enormous blood-red ruby pendant around her neck. She looked fiercely beautiful.
A little much for a dinner at home, though, Therese thought.
The other sister—Tizzie, Therese presumed—had equally long, thick hair, but hers was jet black, and her curls were individual serpentine ringlets, as though she had curled her hair and then not brushed it out. Her face was darker complexioned, and her eyes were black like her hair. She had dark eyebrows with a delicate arch and deep red lips. She also wore no makeup and yet possessed an eerie kind of beauty. Tizzie wore tight black leather pants, black stiletto heels, and a silver halter top that tied around her neck, leaving her dark back bare. Shimmery emeralds hung from her ears, and smaller ones linked in several loose, jangling bracelets around both wrists.
Therese felt she had underdressed.
Than pulled out a chair from the table. “Please, sit down.”
When Therese sat, the Furies sat, too.
“Therese, these are my sisters. You’ve met Megaera, or Meg for short.”
Meg gave a courteous, but distant, nod.
“This is Tisiphone. Everyone calls her Tizzie,” Than said.
“Welcome to our table,” Tizzie spoke without smiling. “Our brother told us you wanted to meet us. I must say you are the very first human to ever make such a request.”
Meg’s sneer sent a shiver down Therese’s back.
“Thanks for having me,” Therese managed to say. “Everything looks delicious, and the table spread is absolutely beautiful.”
“What nice manners,” Tizzie commented.
Meg added. “We’ve been known to punish those without them.”
Than cleared his throat. “Why don’t we eat?”
Therese saw that the salad was like the one she had made for Than. Along with the salad was a bowl of vegetable soup and a plate with fried potato patties.
“We’re vegetarians,” Than explained. “I hope you like the food.”
Therese took a sip of the soup with her spoon. “Mmm. Delicious. I tend to be vegetarian myself—not strictly, but usually.” She cut a piece of the potato patty with her fork and gave it a taste. It melted in her mouth. “Oh my goodness. So this is what gods eat?”
Than said, “We usually eat ambrosia and nectar, but when in Rome…”
Therese smiled. “Oh yes. Right.” She was terrified now of appearing impolite. She continued to eat in silence.
After several minutes of cutting and scraping and drinking and chewing, Meg prompted her, “Than says you have questions.”
Therese stammered, “I, I hope you won’t think it rude of me.”
Tizzie said, almost demanded, her arched brows raised with curiosity, “What do you want to know?”
Therese wasn’t sure where to begin. “Maybe you could tell me what you’ve learned so far about my parents’ killer.”
This question apparently pleased both sisters, for they gave her lascivious smiles.
Tizzie spoke, “Every night I go and torment the man who pulled the trigger that shot the bullet into your mother’s neck”
Therese shuddered.
“That is why I could not go dancing last night,” Tizzie added.
Well, of course, Therese thought. That sounded perfectly normal. She couldn’t go dancing because she was too busy tormenting a man in jail.
Tizzie continued, “This man’s name is Kaveh Grahib. He lies in his cell while I fill him with anguish and dread and terror. I whisper in his ear to tell me the details of the plotter. I climb on top of him and let my snakes slither on his clammy skin. Blood drips from my eyes when he resists, and my legs squeeze him until he cannot breathe. So far, I have only a name, but it won’t be long before I track the plotter down.”
Therese’s appetite left her, and she sat chilled and afraid. “What is the name he gave you?”
Tizzie looked at Than, and Than nodded, so she said, “Steven McAdams. I know he is American, but that is all. Tonight I will find out more.” She gave her lusty smile.
Meg scowled at Therese. “It’s rude not to finish your plate.”
Therese took a sip of the soup and tried her best to finish the rest.
“Maybe we should change the subject,” Than suggested. “Why don’t you two tell her what it’s like living in the dark abyss that is the Underworld. She’d like to be better informed before making the decision I discussed with you.”
“It’s actually quite fun on days when I go to Tartarus and torment the evildoers for their sins on Earth,” Meg said.
Therese shivered and let out a just-audible moan.
Than’s smile faded. “Listen, Therese, my sisters may take satisfaction in their work, but they, unlike the souls they torment, are not evil.” Then he bent his brow at Meg, “Could you tone it down a little?”
Tizzie smirked. “Well, I have to admit, I enjoy my job. Than’s right: It is very satisfying. But I also like the precious stones our father has mined from deep underground. He gives them to us as gifts when we are especially swift with his just payment.” She lifted one of her arms to jangle the emerald bracelets.
Than frowned. “Now let’s not go in the opposite direction with extremes, Tizzie. I don’t want her to be terrified, but I also don’t want her under any delusions of grandeur. The Underworld is a loathsome place, even if there are a few perks. There aren’t any animal companions or beautiful plants. No sunrises and sunsets. Everything is cold and lifeless.”
“That’s not so,” Tizzie objected. “Cerberus is there, who can be quite entertaining when provoked, and so are Swift and Sure, Father’s two black stallions that pull his chariot. They look fierce with their red eyes and huge bodies, but they are sweet when they are eating pomegranate seeds from my hand. And as far as real plants, you’re forgetting the poppies around Hypnos’s abode—albeit, they make you want to go straight to sleep.”
“And don’t forget the asphodel along the Elysian Fields,” Meg added. “Those fragrant white flowers are real even if everything else there isn’t. And the rivers are real, and they’re really quite beautiful and serene when neither I nor my sisters are using them as weapons of torture.” The edges of her lips twisted up into a half smile.
Therese narrowed her eyes at Than. “Your sisters don’t make the Underworld sound nearly as bad as you do.” Then she frowned. Maybe he doesn’t want me after all.
As if he had read her mind, he took her hand in his and gave it a warm squeeze. “I would love for you to come with me, but I want you to be sure. I want you to know what you’re getting into.”
So he’s not like his father, she thought. He’s not going to trick me like Hades did Persephone.
“And Cerberus can be kind if you bring him cakes,” Tizzie offered. “Though Alecto never should have given that information to Orpheus.”
“You have to admit, dear sister, how fun it was to see him torn to pieces,” Meg snickered.
“Not for me. I saw no justice in it.”
Meg spoke though grit teeth. “It was his due dessert for how he tricked us all.”
Therese asked them to tell her the story of Orpheus, so Tizzie began.
“First you must know that the very first musicians were gods. Though Athena didn’t play, she invented the flute. Hermes made the lyre and gave it to Apollo, and when he plays, we all lose our thoughts to his beautiful music. Hermes also invented a shepherd’s pipe, which he plays himself, quite well, actually, when he’s not running errands or going on adventures with Zeus; and Pan, Hermes’s little goat-footed son, made a pipe of reeds that sings the songs of nightingales when he blows through it.
“The Muses play no instrument, but their voices are the loveliest of any I have heard in my long existence. I tell you all of this because despite the superiority of the gods to humans in all ways, there was one demigod—part human and part god—who nearly equaled the gods in musical talent, and that, of course, was Orpheus.
“Wherever Orpheus played his lyre and sang his sweet voice, the animals—even the rocks—followed. Every nymph of the woods where he travelled was in love with him, but he had interest for none until his eyes fell on Eurydice. She, like the others, could not resist his song, and she loved him immediately. They were married in the woods among all those who loved them, but right after the wedding, when Eurydice went walking through a meadow with her bridesmaids, she was bitten by a viper and instantly killed.
“They say even the rocks wept. Orpheus’s grief was impossible to endure. He hastened to the Underworld, set on charming everyone there with his song. Our sister Alecto was the first one to be moved by his beautiful voice and the melody emanating from his lyre. She gave him cakes to feed to Cerberus. Once through the gates, his music charmed the judges next, and then Meg and me, the tormenters in Tartarus. For the first time, I think, we wept with tears. Sisyphus got to sit down on his rock, and Tantalus forgot his hunger and thirst. Our father Hades and our mother Persephone came from their chambers to hear the melodious sounds.
“Orpheus sang a song about the bud being plucked before its bloom and his wish to borrow, not take, his love for a little while. Iron tears fell down my father’s face, and my mother kissed his softened cheek. They beckoned Than to bring forth Eurydice, but gave Orpheus this condition: He could not look back at his love until they were through the gates of the Underworld and across the Acheron.”
Meg took up the story here, “Orpheus had little faith, it seemed. Eurydice was behind him, followed by our brother, as they climbed through the caverns above the river. As Orpheus passed Cerberus and jumped onto Charon’s waiting ferry, he looked back, extending his hand, and in that moment, my brother, under my father’s strict command, pulled Eurydice back down into the darkness.”
Therese shuddered and glanced at Than, whose mouth was turned down in a frown.
Meg jeered, “Orpheus did not keep his end of the bargain, and he should have gone on back with the fact of his failure; however, in a desperate rage equal to Zeus, he tried to force his way back into the Underworld. When his entrance was refused, he finally gave up and wandered off until a band of Maenads—women frenzied with the wine of Dionysus—found him and tore him limb from limb, flinging his severed head into the river.”
Therese looked away from Meg’s awful smile. She felt sorry for Orpheus, suspecting he hadn’t meant to betray his deal with Hades.
Than spoke up here, “I found his soul and took him directly to Eurydice, and they are there now together, though as I’ve told you, they aren’t quite the same as when they were alive.”
The change of subject had done nothing to bring back Therese’s appetite, but she chewed on the potato patties lest she appear rude. She forced the food down with the glass of tea, which she tasted now for the first time. She nearly choked. It was sugary sweet, just the way Than apparently liked it. The corners of her mouth curved up into a smile when she recalled the way he had relished his sweet tea at her house two days ago.
The sugar reminded her of the brownies. “Oh, Than, the brownies. Should I get them and serve them to you and your sisters?”
The girls exchanged confused looks.
“She’s not referring to nymphs,” Than explained. “Her brownies are something called chocolate.” He stood up from his chair. “I’ll get them.”
Both girls produced their lustful smiles. Apparently they were familiar with chocolate.
Than brought the platter to the table and passed it around. Therese watched him take his first bite of the chewy, fudgy square. He closed his eyes and uttered something like a moan. “Oh, my,” he said once he’d swallowed. He took another bite. “I can’t believe I’ve lived so many centuries without chocolate.”
“And we’re always so busy,” Tizzie said, still smiling. “We rarely take the time on Earth to enjoy its pleasures.”
“Well, well, well,” Meg said after finishing her square. “I think Therese has discovered a bribing tool. If you ever have a request for me, bring me chocolate.” She took another square and shoved it whole into her dark red mouth.
After Than ate a third brownie, he pushed his plate away from him and took Therese’s hand in his. “So, Therese, will you go with me tomorrow night to the Wildhorse Saloon and teach me more about dancing?”
“On one condition,” she said, with a bargainer’s smile that would have made Hades proud. “I want to meet your parents.”
The three siblings looked at one another with astonishment.
Then Than said, “Maybe if you offer to play your flute for them, they’ll come.”
“Music and chocolate,” Meg said. “A killer combination.”
“No pun intended,” Tizzie laughed.