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Once inside, Lia paused by a massive canvas. The plaque said the title of the piece wasThe Forest of Apollo. The painting was nothing but women who were human from the waist up and trees from the waist down. Ah, the story of Daphne and Apollo. Eros had struck Apollo with a golden arrow of love and he’d struck Daphne with an iron arrow of hate... Daphne ran from Apollo as he pursued her, prayed to the gods to save her from the obsessed deity and she was turned into a laurel tree.
“Mum was right,” Lia said, staring at the painting. “Male artists really do love painting horrible things happening to women. And you should be ashamed of yourself.”
“That,” August said, pointing at the canvas, “was not my work. Apollo was royally miffed when Daphne wouldn’t go out with him, and he turned her into a tree to punish her. Then he had the balls to blame the whole thing on me.”
“Really?” Lia asked. She wondered what other myths about him were and weren’t true. “What happened to Daphne?”
“I turned her back into a nymph,” August said.
“And then you made love to her. Right?”
“No,” he said, sounding insulted she’d even suggest it. She raised her eyebrow at him. “I didn’t want to get splinters.”
Lia looked at the painting again, all those poor tortured Daphnes...
“If you were going to paint one scene from any Greek myth,” Lia asked August, “what scene you would paint?”
“You,” he said. “You at the feet of Pan, holding a baby otter in your arms.”
Lia’s heart rose half an inch in her chest.
“I’m not in a Greek myth,” she said.
He kissed her on the mouth. “You are now, my love.”
That’s when Lia knew she and August would be happy together forever.
“Come on,” August said. “Let’s get this over with so we can make love again.”
The Attic Gallery had a mezzanine level that was home to the artworks that were always on display. Most of the guests at David’s show were on the main floor. She and August walked around and around the mezzanine.
“What are we doing up here?” she asked.
“Waiting...”
“For?”
“Perfect justice,” he said, and winked at her. “Ah, here we go.”
Lia peered down at the party below. She saw the crowd parting to let a woman through, a beautiful woman in red, so beautiful one could rightly call her a goddess.
“That’s your mother,” Lia whispered.
“I invited her as a sort of peace offering.”
“That was nice of you,” she said.
“Not really,” August said. “I’m going to shoot her in the heart with a great big arrow.”
“What? Why?”
“Oh, look, there’s ourartiste,” August said, pointing out David working his way through the crowd, glad-handing as he went. Though his smile was broad, it appeared forced to Lia. He was likely still recovering from having Aphrodite, in the form of a mafia queen, threaten to kill him in all sorts of gruesome ways. “Cover me.”
Lia glanced around, not knowing how to cover him. August didn’t seem to care. He took off his jacket and laid it over the banister. He rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. This could not be good. Then he reached behind his head and pulled two arrows from his quiver.
“August...” Lia said.
He notched them both on his bow at the same time.
