53. Lost Memories

Two gangsters came to Zahira's flat the next day to pick up the stuff they'd left with her. Zahira knew one of them, Dante, as being high up in the gang's current hierarchy. He scared her the most.

"You haven't told anyone about us leaving things here, have you?" He asked her. Dante had very narrow eyes that were as cold as a fish. Zahira shook her head. "No? Not even a man who claims to come from the sky?"

Zahira broke into a sweat. She must have been spotted with Orion. She cowered nervously and braced for trouble. Idiot, she silently cursed herself. She hadn't thought about the gang suspecting her.

"I haven't told him anything."

Dante moved in to stand close and Zahira flinched. They were alone in the room. Dante's brother was in the kitchen – gathering together their gear. Zahira tried to retreat but her back was against the wall and she was trapped. Dante cocked his head at her.

"You sure about that?"

She nodded. "Because if I think you're lying to me..." The threat was clear in his voice. Zahira stared at Dante, her eyes wide and terrified.

"I...I swear I'm not." She stammered.

She heard the click of a knife and her heart pounded nervously.

"If you rat us out, we'll kill you."

Zahira's blood turned cold. She nodded. The knife clicked, hidden away once more. "Good girl."

Dante turned and left the room, going to help his brother with the gear.

Zahira remained pressed against the wall. Her knees trembled and she held her breath, listening in on the two men talking.

Good girl...

It was the same phrase again. And again, she couldn't explain why she hated it so much. Perhaps, because it didn't mean what it pretended to.

The gangsters slammed the door shut on their way out and Zahira breathed a sigh of relief. She wished that she'd never gotten involved with the gang. She wished that she could hide away from them. She wished that they'd forget that she even existed.

Delayed tears filled Zahira's eyes and she crumpled to the ground.

**

Sage pursed her lips thoughtfully, her gaze on the God of Desire. She'd been trying her best to avoid him, wary of his love arrows. But the Love God always seemed to be in the café these days and Sage was becoming eaten up with curiosity. Why?

Eros was sat at a small table by the window. The sunlight streaming through the window was making his snow-white hair shine. Why was he here? Shoulders rigidly set, Sage finally caved and approached him – with wary, mistrusting eyes.

"You're here a lot." She observed flatly. Eros broke from his reverie and blinked at her. Girls on a table nearby table swooned and sighed, and Sage couldn't entirely blame them. She cleared her throat and focused. "Aren't you interested in the war going on above us?"

"Between the parents I don't remember?" Eros shook his head. Cocking his head to the side, Eros quickly took the opportunity to study Sage's heart. Unlike Jaz's feelings, Eros could read Sage's very easily. He sighed.

"The War God will want you to take care of yourself. If you're so worried about him, take care of yourself so that he doesn't have to worry so much."

Sage flinched.

"I don't care about Ares." She blurted automatically. Eros smiled at her dismal attempt to lie to him.

"I've never been wrong about a heart." He assured her. But he was surprised by Sage's reaction. First her cheeks flushed but then she turned deathly pale.

"Well, you're wrong about mine."

He watched her storm off. Hmm...  her reaction confused him, but Eros shrugged – not interested in worrying about it. He didn't come to this café to see Sage.

Eros' amber eyes returned to their usual subject. Jasper Bellegrade.

Eros sighed, frustrated. He'd wasted hours watching this peculiar man, whose feelings he couldn't read. But he was no closer to solving the mystery. Eros knew the desires of everyone in the café. He heard every heartache and longing. But from Jaz, he encountered only silence. A curious silence.

He wanted to know why. He wanted to know about his own history with Jaz. But the café owner was always so cryptic and evasive with his answers about their 'ancient history'. Eros watched a smiling Jaz work on the till, chatting charmingly to the customers. Jaz had tied his hair back but silvery strands were tumbling lose and falling over his eyes.

A loud crack thundered outside and people in the café rushed to the windows. Many started filming the wave of fire that seared across the sky. The battle for Olympus continued to rage above them and they were being treated to a spectacle this afternoon.

Speculation about the gods seemed to be the hot topic amongst earthlings. It was in the news and social media everyday and people were being polarised by their opinions on the subject.  Eros watched everyone in the cafe jostle for a view out the window. Only one man seemed uninterested. Jaz remained aloof and started spinning idly on his chair. This intrigued Eros. Jaz had hinted that, whilst he knew many of the gods, he had a low opinion of them. It made Eros wonder more and more about his own past relationship with him.

"What did you think Psyche? Did you like her?" Eros had asked Jaz one afternoon. Jaz had shrugged.

"Not really. She was young and naïve. She had a lot to learn."

"Why do you think I loved her?"

Jaz had stared at Eros then, with a look that was slightly troubled.

"I never understood. Not really. It was in ill fate."

The café was clearing now, as people flocked into the streets – hoping to catch a glimpse of giants between the clouds. Eros stood up and approached Jaz. He leant on the counter beside him and Jaz quirked a brow at him.

"You ignore me a lot." Eros commented.

"I don't give you my undivided attention. I have a café to run." Jaz replied amicably. "What do you think about for so long? I often catch you staring at me."

Eros' expression didn't change.

"I think about kidnapping you and taking you to a mountain." Eros admitted. "Perhaps then, if it was just, you and me and no noise from other people's desires – then I'd be able to hear your heart. Maybe it's not silent but whispering." This was one of his theories.

Jaz stopped swinging on his chair.

"You think about taking me to a mountain?" Jaz's fingers drummed against the till before he hastily picked up an alcohol wipe to clean the cash register. "I hate mountains. They're cold."

Something finally flashed across Eros' memory, it was a woman's voice.

'I don't want to die... save me, please!'

Eros snapped his head around and stared at the paintings on the wall. In his brief flash of memory, he'd seen the woman's face. He gazed at the paintings of Psyche. The woman had been crying and scared, shivering in the snow, but the resemblance was clear. He'd just had a memory of Psyche. Of the first time he'd seen her.

The God of Desire winced, placing a hand over his aching heart.

"Did Psyche love me?" He asked Jaz, his voice shaken. Jaz stopped cleaning.

"I think... that she hated you and loved you – in equal parts."

The crowd outside oohed and aahed as something otherworldly happened in the sky. Jaz and Eros stared at one another, distrust crackling between them.