For The Love Of A God by Rosanna Leo (ebook reader for comics .txt) 📕

room, blubbering something about a sponge bath, and she closed her eyes again.

"You lay back, sweetie,” the nurse cooed, as if Maia even had the will to get up. “I'm going to give you a nice wash now."

Maia lay perfectly, deathly, still as the nurse washed her arms and legs with the warm sponge.

Not as warm as Eryx had been. Nothing would ever be so warm.

And as she felt the little droplets of water cascade down her arm, she prayed some of her guilt would be washed away too.

Six months after the night at the museum, or as Dino liked to call it, the “'bender from hell,” Maia found herself back at her job there. Not because she wanted to, but because she didn't know what else to do with herself.

She stared numbly at Dino and Sheila as they laughed about that night. Laughed about it. Neither of them actually remembered it, and they chalked it up to one too many lime daiquiris at the pub.

Their ignorance was a relief because Maia did not want to discuss it.

She didn't want to discuss anything. Sure, her other museum colleagues found her oddly quiet and solemn lately, but then she'd always been quirky to them. Her new introspective nature was just another quirk in their eyes.

As for her friends, and her dad, they didn't push her. They knew she'd been through some sort of ordeal, an ordeal which must have sent Eric Lord packing, and didn't want to upset her further. "The poor thing is obviously suffering from a broken heart."

Strangely enough, she never heard any rumblings about the carnage at the museum either. Each day as she performed her job like an automaton, she expected to hear some old gossip about missing mummies or missing directors or mangled bird-women corpses littering the hallways. But never did.

She could only assume Dionysus and his pals did a thorough clean-up. Somehow it all got explained away so well no one ever even thought to look at her funny.

It was as if Eric Lord never existed. And, of course, no one ever believed Eryx existed anyway.

She wondered about Dionysus and the others, though. Bitterly, she fought back a tear, thinking at least one of them might have had enough heart to come and check on her all this time. To let her know if they'd heard anything about Nemesis and her new sex-slave. To make sure Maia was still alive. To make sure she didn't hate herself as much as she did.

But the gods were a no-show.

So, she went about her work quietly, and no one ever guessed at the torment within her. And each night, she went home to bed. The bed where he'd touched her. She'd lie there, desperately trying to absorb any leftover Eryx warmth in her sheets. It was a futile exercise. They were as cold as she was.

Until the dreams started again. Dreams in which Eryx would come to her and make love to her like a god, until Nemesis descended on them as a raging fury, plucking him away in her talons. Flying him off to God knew where.

The dreams were the worst part of her life now. Because they showed him as he once was. Powerful. Resplendent. Divine. They reminded her of what he'd given up for her.

Everyday she'd go back to work, smile thinly at people there, and pray for oblivion. She existed as a shadow, silently continuing her work in the Gallery of Greece. She stood in the background at the grand opening while the new director, a balding man with a paunch, toasted the contributions of the staff and made promises for a bright future. There were hairline cracks to be filled, marble surfaces to be cleaned, and Maia did it all without a word.

And in her head, as she restored the aging sculptures of ancient gods, she cursed them at the same time. Denounced the cruel entities who'd stayed away while Eryx was sacrificing the best part of himself for his mortal love.

Where was he now? The question tortured her again and again. Was he in a dark pit somewhere, unable to move? Was the monster with the crazy teeth feasting on his liver? Was he chained to stone? Was he chained to Nemesis's bed? She couldn't even fathom the possibilities. Six short months ago, she hadn't believed in Greek gods other than as the subject of stories. How could she possibly imagine the sort of punishment one god could inflict on another?

She didn't even have Eryx's statue to console her. Most days, she was glad. It would have been torture to have to stare at it. But on other days, during those mind-numbing moments of pure grief, she would have killed to see him, even if only in sculpture.

One day, about a week after the grand opening of the gallery, Dino offered to drive her to work and she accepted. She knew she couldn't avoid her friends forever, and they had tried so many times to make her smile.

She belted herself into his Audi and listened as he babbled about some new guy he'd met. “Maia, honey, you'll have to meet Geoff. You won't believe how fucking gorgeous he is. Tall, blond, buff, say no more. I swear to God, he's hotter than Eric Lord.” He considered for a moment. “Well, not really. No one's hotter than Eric Lord.” He clamped his mouth shut, realizing what he'd said, and turned to her. “Oh, honey, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not,” Dino said guiltily. “I promised Sheila I wouldn't mention him in front of you, and look what I did.” He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze as he maneuvered through the downtown traffic. A Jeep cut him off and he leaned on his horn, yelling out his open window, “Watch your back, asshole!"

In spite of herself, Maia began to laugh. She laughed so hard she began to cry.

Stricken by her reaction, Dino pulled into an empty lot and pulled her