Part 2 - Epilogue

Epilogue

 

1

The Villa

July 20th, 2003

9:00 pm

            The villa stood empty, a discarded husk in the Hollywood Hills. Mel stood in the atrium, her fingers resting on the hilt of her cane. The wind came and danced on the tile before it lifted her hair and disappeared. She sighed.

            Nothing sounded so sad as an empty house.

            “Smells like rain,” she said. “Maybe we should stay.”

“It’s just a house, Mel, we’ve lived in thousands of them,” Clio said from somewhere by the fireplace.

            “It’s Calliope’s house.”

            “I know.” Clio took Mel’s hand. Mel could smell the warm sugary scent of the historian.

            The house had seemed so full before. It was dark now, dark even to a blind woman. When had everyone stolen away? Alice?”

            “Gone. She took Miranda.”

            Mel heard the storm in Clio’s heart. “You can cry.”

            “No.”

            Mel nodded. The wind had returned, making curious circles about the sisters.

            “Cory?”

            “I don’t know,” Mel admitted. “She was bad off when she left, Clio. You should have talked to her.”

            “What was left to say?”

            “Forgive her, Clio.”

            “You forgive her.”

            A horn beeped twice just beyond the garden.

            “What will you do now that Trent’s…”

            “I will be joining Apollo in the Carolinas. He’ll need my help with Calliope, she’s a terrible wreck,” Mel said.

            “I see. You do realize there’s a plane ticket to San Francisco sticking out of your purse?” Clio’s fingers brushed Mel’s hair back.

            “I need to close up my own home and leave Trent a note where he can find me.” Mel stiffened. “And don’t make that face. He’s not dead.”

            “Okay, Mel. Okay.”

            “What about your temperamental sidekick?”

            “He had to go to Zeus. One of us had to tell him about Hades,” Clio said. “I couldn’t do it.”

            “He’ll be back.”

            “I don’t think so.”

            “He’ll be back,” Mel said and touched her sister’s hand. “What are we going to do about that?” She waved her cane in the direction of the clepsydra lying on the tile by the fireplace.

            “Leave it.”

            “But –”

            “It stays. I’m done with convention.”

            The sharp honk of the taxi broke the silence. “We should go,” Mel said.

            “You go ahead, I have to make a stop before my flight.”

            “You don’t have to go home, Clio.”

            “Where else can I go now? She won’t see me. I have nothing else.”

            “She’s gone through so much. She’ll get better, you’ll see. Tartaros is a terrible place.”

            “I know, Mel, I was there, remember?”

            The first drops of rain touched Mel’s face. “See? Rain.” The girls stood in the atrium until the first clap of thunder broke their reverie.

            “Take your time, don’t rush home,” Mel said.

            “I will.” Clio took Mel by the elbow and guided her out of the villa. They stood in the garden while Clio locked the doors.

            “Who will take care of your garden?”

            Clio sighed. “It’ll take care of itself, I suppose.”

                       

2

Los Angeles, CA

July 21st, 2003

4:30 pm          

            Rain cascaded over the big, black Lincoln as it picked its way through the cemetery’s narrow, curving roads. The only noise came from the sheets of water being sloshed away by the rhythmic pumping of the windshield wipers.

Ares sat behind the wheel, carefully searching the wet, gray world of the cemetery and tapping the brakes when he found what he was looking for. He stared out the blurry window at the figure standing in the rain. Drawing carefully on the Lucky he was smoking, his gaze slipped to the lilies sitting in the passenger seat. Lightning lit up the sky and illuminated her shivering frame. She didn’t even have a coat or an umbrella.

            “Bloody hell,” he sighed. He dropped the Lincoln into park with a heavy hand and gathered up the lilies. His steel-toed boots crunched on the sodden gravel beneath him as he flicked his cigarette away.

            With only the slightest hint of a limp, he walked up the muddy hill to where she stood, her dripping locks plastered to the wan expression she wore. After a few moments of standing beside her, he placed the delicate, white calla lilies on Miranda’s empty grave. A single tiger lily was plucked from the bouquet and he knelt beside Crow’s. Ares wiped the grass and water from the marker and laid the tiger lily upon it. Straightening back up, he stood beside her, his face always the impassive mask.

            Her penny loafers filled with water. She wrapped her arms tightly about her thin shirtdress and never tore her eyes from the two graves.

            Ares glanced around a couple of times, took off his leather coat, and wrapped it about her shoulders.

            “I thought our deal was that you’d stay away from me and my sisters when this was all said and done,” she said.

A hint of despair lingered on her lips. He thought he could bear it away if she’d let him. “Who’s to say when this is all said and done, muse?”

            The deluge poured over them and water dripped from her nose and chin. “Did you get what you wanted out of this?”

            “Let’s just say, not what I expected.”

            Ares let her stand there. They stood there in the pouring rain, not saying a word. When she finally turned, he followed her down the hill and opened the Lincoln’s passenger door for her.

            The Lincoln was warm from the heater and he sat behind the wheel for a moment, at a loss for words. 

            “Where we goin’?” He asked as he reached into his overnight bag behind his seat and handed her a towel.

            “I have no idea,” she said and rubbed the towel into her wet hair. Pursing her lips, she shook her head sadly. “I don’t know what to do.” Her grief filled the big car, and he wanted to reach out to her.

            Instead, he said, “You always know what to do, Clio. Now, where do you want to go?”

            New Orleans?”

            New Orleans it is then,” he said as he dropped the car into gear and pulled away from the curb.

            Clio stared at him for long moments.

Without any warning, she reached out and brushed her fingertips across the purple mark on his still-swollen mouth. He stopped the car and looked at her.

            “You color easy,” she said.

He had no words for her.

            “I’m afraid,” she said.

            “It’s bad to be a coward, it’s not bad to be afraid,” he replied quietly. “It’s gonna take time. At least that’s something we have.”

            “That’s what I’m afraid of, that it’s the only thing we have.”

            “Not the only thing, pet. Not the only thing.”

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