Page 12 of Perfectly Matching Again

“Because I am not ready. And because I am accountable to no one. They can all go hang, for all I care. And I don’t care at all.”

Erato tapped her fingers on the armrest.

“All those big brain spreadsheets and acronymy organizations, and the aforementioned whatsists tell a different story.”

Demeter actually growled.

“I don’t care, Muse. Nobody gives a damn. They all come to me when they need something. My powers to make sure their cronies get olive oil, or cotton, or beef. My absence when they need a piece of property to be devalued because one of them wants to build some gaudy monstrosity for cheap. My resources when they go to war. My daughter on a plate to appease the Goddess of Underworld, who felt slighted for centuries. Well, how about me? How about when I get slighted, Muse?”

Erato watched in silence—she was so stunned she couldn’t even breathe—as the ordinarily taciturn and unapproachable Demeter stood in front of her, chest heaving, gorgeous cheekbones splashed with the scarlet of anger. Of insult. Of humiliation. Well, Erato knew how some of that tasted.

But before she could say anything as stupid as “me too,” Demeter put the tumbler down and took her seat next to Erato. Without lifting her eyes to meet the muse’s, she picked up her papers again. When she spoke, her voice was so soft, Erato thought she imagined it.

“And then when I do what I want once, just once, they all remember that I exist, and get very upset that I do so on my own terms.”

Erato’s hand, seemingly of its accord, found Demeter’s.

“I take it this spring thing is you being a rebel? And so am I, part of said rebellion?”

Demeter said nothing but she did intertwine their fingers and for the rest of the flight, Erato felt that, for once, she had been allowed to step on Olympus without being confused with the help.

Dionysus met them tipsy. The fact that the man wasn’t entirely smashed was something to celebrate, surely.

“Welcome to the Great Dionisya!”

He kissed Demeter’s cheeks somewhat sloppily and ignored Erato completely. For once, she was glad of it. He looked sauced, but not really sauced enough to pass out. The kind of sauced that gets grabby. Erato subtly tugged on the invisible thread, pulling Demeter further away from the drunkard.

Dionysus did not seem to notice.

“By Zeus, I was shocked when you texted that you were coming to my Spring Festival! I haven’t seen you in ages!”

He furrowed his brow, seemingly trying to remember when was the last time he and Demeter crossed paths. Erato was beginning to understand some of what Demeter was talking about earlier. And while normally she’d have kept her mouth shut, the jackass being an Olympian and all that, for some reason, words escaped.

“You just saw her in Vegas, dude.”

That got her two entirely different reactions. Dionysus finally turned her way and Demeter… Well, Erato had no idea what the look of calm calculation that so often crossed those features in her presence signified.

“And who might you be?” Dionysus, drunk as he was, swayed closer to Erato. Since he was a man, Erato, who’d normally stand her ground on principle, had to keep her gag reflex in check and take a step back.

“You saw her in Vegas as well, fool. And have met her thousands of times during these two millennia and the countless previous ones.”

Demeter’s voice held the entirety of winter’s deep freeze. Erato wanted to preen just a little. Since they were in public, she refrained.

Dionysus gave her a long, still-swaying look, clearly trying to figure out who she was. He checked out her face. Devastating. Her hair. Perfection in debonair locks. Her boobs. Perky as fuck, thank you very much. And finally he lifted watery eyes to meet hers.

“You’re Dite’s girl?”

Demeter gritted her teeth, but Erato just shrugged. Pleased with finding a shred of recognition in his alcohol soaked brain, the God of Wine and Feasts made a sweeping gesture, knocking over half of the bottles off the table.

“Welcome, Demeter and Dite’s girl to my Feast!”

The urge to roll her eyes was overwhelming. Erato was very skeptical of this entire Spring Fest to begin with, and this particular one reeked of booze. Nothing springtimey about it. But Demeter chose it, and so here they were, observing the vast amphitheater under open skies where thousands of people were drinking, eating and seemingly getting ready for some performance.

“Melpomene herself staged this show in my honor.” Dionysus made his way closer to the stage where several muses were busy setting up. Erato saw Thalia and Urania hanging some tapestry up. To her greater pleasure—not that she wasn’t happy to see her fellow muses—a cupid was helping them. A very cherished cupid. And that meant only one thing.

“I see you chose to attend the festivities.” Oh, this drawl was so familiar. Sabine Goddard, in a flowing ivory suit, gave Erato a brief hug.

“I go where I’m told, and you know it. Much like you do these days.” Erato quipped, but Sabine took the joke in stride and simply smiled.

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