Page 10 of Lies Among Gods

What could he possibly want after all these years?

Chapter twelve

CHAPTER 7

In the wake of Asmodeus Hedone’s descent, the High Council convened and declared that desire, though acknowledged, must be constrained. Marriage was elevated beyond tradition; it became the sacred vessel through which passion was permitted, and all indulgence outside its bonds was deemed dangerous and profane. Thus were the first laws enacted to regulate Lust: devotion must guide the heart, and obedience must govern the body.

Snippet from “The Book of Natural History” By Priestess Antonella Killora

Lyra stared up at the textured ceiling, the harsh overhead light glinting off its white surface. For the last week, the rare moments she dared to peek outside the house were met with a blinding flash of cameras and the insistent murmur of voices. Her mother, a frantic whirlwind of perfumes and powders, insisted on full hair and makeup before Lyra could even risk a glance through the curtains. Outside, a persistent, low hum of activity filled the air from the reporters camped out on the street,their watchful eyes like a tangible weight, tracking her every shadowed move.

I went from a social pariah to a monkey in a cage. Could this actually be real? I might be a goddess one day, and until then I am on display for the world to pick me apart.The idea was taking root, and the more she had time to think about it.Maybe they aren’t making a joke of me.Right now, all she had was time, since she was tired of having a camera shoved in her face. Or having to listen to questions she had no answer to. “Why you?”, “What are you goddess of?”, and so many more, even some that were much more invasive.

Since that night a week ago, she had not heard from any of the gods. She felt alone, with no one to talk to and no one who would understand. Her mom was telling anyone who would listen how proud she was of her daughter. While her father kept grumbling about the reporters trampling his yard and ruining his altar to Petro. Her brothers had come by multi-times this week, even they were in on lecturing her about how important appearances were and her attitude problem. The more everyone talked ‘at’ her, the less she listened.

She rolled over, the soft cotton of her sheets a familiar comfort against her skin. Her fingers fumbled for her phone, the glass beneath her finger. The screen’s bright light cut through the dim morning light filtering into the room. As she aimlessly scrolled through the glowing notifications, a sharp, red icon caught her eye—a message request. Opening it, she checked to see who it was. It was Adrian. Lyra’s breath hitched.Adrian. After all this time?A deep sigh escaped her lips, laced with a decade of resentment and curiosity. The same boy who had so publicly shattered her life was now sending her a private message.What could he possibly want after all these years?Her curiosity piqued, so she clicked on the message thread.

Adrian: Hey Lyra. Long time no talk.

She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Her heart, which had been so fragile in his presence years ago, was now armored with cynicism.

Lyra: Hello.

The reply was immediate.

Adrian: I saw the news. Crazy stuff. I know it’s been a while, but I would love to catch up. Dinner tonight, maybe?

Lyra scoffed, a dry, bitter sound.Dinner.Funny timing. He is probably only interested in what’s in the news, not actually me.

Lyra: I can’t. With all the media surrounding the house, I can’t exactly step out for a casual dinner.

Adrian: I can help with that.

She hesitated, uncertain if she should humor him till he shows his true intentions or if she wanted to hear his plan out so she could escape her media imposed prison.

Lyra: How?

Adrian: You’ll see. Be ready by 5pm. I’ll be over.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. The bright digital numbers glowed a stark red, reading 10:00 AM. “Great! I have seven hours until I hear this master plan.”

Lyra finished drying her hair, the faint scent of orange blossom wafting around her. She ran her fingers through the soft strands. Her eyes scanned the colorful fabrics hanging in her closet, eventually landing on an airy sundress that said, ‘I look good, but I just threw this on’. She slipped it on, the fabric swishing softly against her skin. With a quick swipe of lip gloss that added a subtle shine and a touch of mascara, she completed her look.

He is not interested in me. He’s only interested in the attention that comes from being around me. I will not fall for his charm or his dumb face.She told herself the mantra over and over as she looked at her phone. She pulled up his profile, and a sigh escaped her lips.He’s even more handsome now than he was back then. Why couldn’t he have gotten a face that matched his personality?

A sharp rap on the front door jolted her from her reverie.

“Coming!” her mother yelled, a sharp, echoing yell slicing through the quiet of the hallway.

“Just let it ring,” her father growled. “It’s probably just more reporters.”

“I got it,” Lyra yelled back.Dad’s probably right; it’s a reporter.

The old wood of the front door groaned as she eased it open a sliver. Through the narrow gap, she saw Adrian standing on the porch, his silhouette stark against the muted afternoon light. But he wasn’t alone. Next to him stood another ghost from her past, Clara, her former best friend.Oh, look, two nasty people found each other. They’re probably dating.

Clara, clad in grey athletic wear that hugged her form, a faded baseball cap shadowing her startlingly bleached blonde hair, clutched the strap of her gym bag. The faint scent of strong flowery perfume. Behind her, Adrian’s face was a mask of smug satisfaction, a self-satisfied grin stretching across his lips as he pushed the door wider.

"Took us long enough to track down the goddess,” Adrian said, pushing past Lyra into the house.