"You did what!” Athena sputtered (unattractively, Venus noted) as she stared wide-eyed at the glowing orbs that held the two mortal spirits.
“Well, I couldn’t just let them die!” Venus said defensively, patting the orb that floated closest to her. “It was just too awful and too soon. They’re both so young.”
“Mortals die. Period. You shouldn’t have interfered with what Fate decreed for them,” Athena said.
“Oh, please! These are modern mortals. They don’t believe in Fate.”
Hera rushed into Venus’s oracle chamber. “What has happened? I came as soon as the satyr gave me the emergency message and I—” The goddess broke off as she caught sight of the floating orbs. Her smooth brow wrinkled. “Are those mortal spirits?”
“They are indeed,” Athena said.
“Well, what ever are they doing here? Are they lost?”
“No. They are not lost. They are the spirits of two modern mortal women and Venus brought them here.”
Venus frowned at Athena. “Are you having regular orgasms, Athena? If not, that could be why you’re always so grumpy and judgmental.”
“Venus!” Hera’s voice was sharp, reminding the Goddess of Love that she was in the presence of the Queen of Olympus. “Why are the spirits of modern mortals in this chamber?”
“One of them”—Venus paused, studied the orbs and finally pointed at the one closest to her—“this one, I think, is the spirit of the mortal woman I have chosen to help us out with our Achilles problem. The other is her best friend.”
“Which still doesn’t explain why their souls are here in Olympus instead of in their bodies back in the modern mortal world where they belong,” Hera said.
“They can’t be in their bodies because their bodies are dead,” Athena said. “Actually, burned to nothing but ash.”
“Burned? Dead? But how could you choose a burned-up dead mortal for Achilles?” Hera rubbed her temple with one hand; the other she waved gracefully before her, plucking the goblet of ambrosia out of the air when it appeared and taking a long drink of it.
“It’s all really very easy to explain,” Venus said, sending Athena a dark look.
“Then explain. Please,” Hera said.
“I chose the mortal woman for Achilles when she was alive. Then there was an accident while she and her friend were leaving a party and, well, they were killed. I simply could not stand it. They were so young and happy. And,” she added pointedly, “Kat was so completely perfect for Achilles.”
“So you brought their bodiless spirits here?” Hera paused and sighed. “Venus, I understand how easy it is to get attached to mortals, but you didn’t do these women a favor. They should be on their way to the Afterlife that awaits them. There is nothing we can—” Abruptly Hera’s voice broke off. A look of shock passed over her lovely face and the goblet of ambrosia slid through her hand to shatter on the marble floor.
“Hera! What is it?” Venus cried as she and Athena rushed to her side.
The goddess’s face had gone horribly white. “My priestesses! They are sobbing for me.”
“Here, sit. Breathe deeply and tell us what has happened.” Venus guided Hera over to a soft chaise as Athena conjured a fresh goblet of ambrosia, which she held to Hera’s lips, but the goddess waved the drink away.
“It’s the Greeks. They are sacking my temple that rests just outside the westernmost wall of Troy.” She passed a shaky hand over her eyes as if to wipe the image from her mind. Hera looked up at the two goddesses. “I don’t understand this. My temples do not get sacked. I am Goddess of the Home and Hearth, Goddess of Marriage and Family, Queen of Olympians. There is no reason to defile me.” Hera weaved a little like she was going to faint. “I have to sit down.”
“You are sitting down,” Athena said.
“What do I do?” Sweat broke out over the goddess’s too white face. “My priestesses are beseeching me!”
“I don’t know!” Venus sat heavily on the bench next to Hera, took the ambrosia goblet from Athena and drained it in one gulp. “I’m Goddess of Love. People fornicate in my temples, which I don’t consider defilement. Once in a while a bereft lover—a slightly crazy one at that—will hurl himself on his sword, but that really can’t be helped.”
“I know what to do.”
Venus and Hera looked up to see Athena putting on the war helmet that had just materialized.
“Do I need to remind you that I am Goddess of War?”
Venus and Hera shook their heads in tandem.
“Then let us go. No one defiles one of our temples and gets away with it.” Athena’s hard gray eyes narrowed. “Or you two could stay here. Zeus will probably be angry that I’ve become involved.”
Slowly Hera stood. Her knees were clearly unsteady, but her voice was sharp as flint. “Zeus and his orders to stay out of it be damned! No one who attacks my priestesses will go unpunished.”
Venus and Hera exchanged a glance. “We’re going with you,” said the Goddess of Love. “If Zeus is going to be angry, let him be angry at all of us.”
“So be it,” Athena said. “Stay close to me.”
Before the three goddesses disappeared Venus waved her hand in the direction of her oracle and a shimmering circle appeared around it, holding the two spirit orbs safely within its shell.
They materialized in the aftermath of destruction.
“Oh no!” Hera sobbed. Then she straightened her spine and pressed her lips tightly together. “These are my women. I cannot fail them,” the goddess said grimly before beginning to move toward the first of the crumpled bodies.
“Stay with her. I’ll deal with the butchers who are still here,” Athena told Venus before striding swiftly from the room toward the distant shrieks and muffled cries that were coming from the exterior of the temple.
Feeling sick to her stomach, Venus joined Hera as she bent over a woman’s broken body. As were the rest of the women in this interior room of the temple, the dead mortal was wearing the sky blue linen robes of those who swear to the service of the Queen of Olympus. Venus thought that the fresh scarlet of her blood looked grotesque and a supreme defilement in this temple of Hera’s that was usually filled with the soothing colors of pastels, the lovely scent of sweet incense and the music of women’s laughing voices.
“She was one of my most elderly priestesses.” Hera’s voice was thick with tears. “She tended this temple for more than forty years.” The goddess touched the dead woman’s head. “Let your journey to the Elysian Fields be swift and peaceful,” she murmured, and the air around them stirred with the power of Hera’s prayer. Hera looked at Venus. “We must bless all of them.”
“Of course.” Venus squeezed her friend and queen’s hand, and then the two of them began to make their way from body to body, bestowing on each fallen priestess an eternal blessing for peace and happiness.
It was at the base of Hera’s statue in the innermost sanctum that they found them—two young women who had died with their arms wrapped protectively around each other. The dark-haired woman had a ghastly head wound. The blonde who had joined her in death had been skewered through the chest by a sword.
“Sacrilege! Blasphemy!” Hera hissed the words, her sorrow and horror at last being replaced by righteous anger. “These two aren’t even my priestesses. Clearly they were here beseeching my blessing.” The goddess pointed to the spilled goblet of wine and the broken jar of honey that lay discarded and ruined beside their bodies.
“She looks familiar.” Venus pointed to the dark-haired woman. “Isn’t that lovely purple and gold trim on her stola worn only by those of the royal house of Troy?”
“Hera!” Athena’s shout interrupted them. The gray-eyed goddess burst into the inner room. She was spattered with blood and carrying a young, blue-robed woman in her arms. The woman groaned and, with a strangled cry, Hera rushed to her, helping Athena to lay her gently on the marble floor. The Queen of Olympus used her lap to pillow the fallen woman’s head.
Venus peered down at the woman—and realized she was really only a girl, barely out of puberty. She had a terrible sword slash in her upper arm, which was flooding her and Hera in bright rivulets of fresh blood. Her eyes were closed, but she moaned again, proving she was definitely alive.
“Who did this?” Hera’s voice was cold and hard.
“They were Agamemnon’s men. This girl told me that most of them had already taken the priestesses of their choice and returned to the Greek camp. I made sure that the few who lingered will be camping in the darkened regions of the Underworld tonight,” she said fiercely.
“We must heal her.”