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I don’t mention my need to touch my ring.
“You don’t need that little ring to call him, you know.” He chuckles, knowing my concern. “You just have to reach for him… truly call with your heart.”
“Is there a reasonyouwant me to call him?” I want to mentally warn Eros within my mind to stay away, or at least be careful, but I fear that will only make him appear and get hurt.
Maybe Eros can hear me, but I won’t give this other god the satisfaction of seeing me cry out for Eros. This god seems to revel in my helplessness, and I’m not going to play into his sport of scare the mortal.
“He should have sensed your fear by now, but he’s not showing up to claim you,” the god says. “Curious.”
That’s what throws me over the edge of hopelessness. Erosisn’tshowing up when I’m actually in danger, and I know for certain that I’m in danger now.
“Whatever. Can you just get on with it? Eat my soul, make me your servant, or whatever it is you’re planning on doing with me. I don’t fucking care anymore.”
“You should,” the god says with a singsong voice.
I flinch when he snaps his fingers in my face.
Instantly, I’m in a dark room. Alone.
The space has a similar vibe as Hypnos’s dreamscape—caverns and the weighted feeling of being several miles below the surface—yet no one is around. The mysterious god magickedme away without even an introduction. If I were to guess, though, I would say he’s one of the Greek death gods, either Hades or Thanatos.
“Hello?” I call, not expecting a reply.
My eyelids are heavy, and I sway with the sudden onslaught of fatigue.
“Come to me, sweetheart,”a voice whispers from a thousand miles away, and I go.
I wake up again in Hypnos’s dreamscape on his satin sheet bed. What’s up with that move? I suppose it makes sense that a god of sleep and dreams has a bed as a portal. I shift so I can slide off it and onto the loamy ground. I sense the water all around me, and again, poppies instantly spout and grow at my feet as I walk.
“Hypnos?” I call.
“Figured it out, huh?” He appears in front of me, too close for comfort, wearing his romantic apparel of a black pirate shirt and leather pants. He’s striking, and I’m not just talking about his wings for ears. Although, I have to say, it does set him apart.
I wander to the edge of the island we are on.
He follows me, watching my every movement curiously.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Actually,Tartarus,not hell,” he corrects.
“I’m in hell’shell?” I shiver. “What did I do to deserve to go where the wicked go?”
“Nothing except being your sweet self.”
“I’ll stop, I swear,” I mutter, the need for vengeance rising in my soul.
“I don’t think you could stop if you tried.”
I follow the water’s edge, searching for a way out of this space.
The black water laps on the shore, and the tiny waves look like fingers reaching to get out. I look closer and see distorted faces and bodies writhing in the oily liquid. Drawn by the movement, I almost touch one of the finger-like protrusions.
Hypnos is suddenly next to me, and he pulls me back. “Don’t touch, mortal, or you will be lost.”
“Being lost has to be better than landing in Tartarus or having the other god capture me.”
Hypnos spins me to look at him, then with a fierce intensity, he says, “Don’t give up.”
