Stoner
an excerpt

Medusa lay on her belly on the banks of the river Acheron with her chin propped in her hands. Her neck ached from craning to see past the spindly reeds of the Stygian Marsh. The dratted things swayed in the brittle winds of Hades, stubbornly concealing her view of the River Styx. She’d been in this position so long that she feared her head might tumble from her shoulders.

Again.

It’s not like me and my head are all that attached to each other, she thought, fingering the magic ribbon that Persephone had tied around her neck this morning. Persephone said she’d put it there to keep Medusa from completely falling to pieces every time Hades scolded her.

Which was pretty much all the time lately. And the last time Medusa lost her head, it had tumbled into Persephone’s prized America Beauty roses, crushing them beyond recognition. Once Medusa got herself pulled back together, picking the thorns out of her braids had been a real bitch, and Persephone had been mad as…well…Hades.

It was quite the faux pas. Except for Hades, whose vile temper tantrums every time he had an audience with Medusa never ceased to wither his wife’s prized garden, few people had maimed a flower in Hades and avoided an eternity in the flames of Tartarus.

Cerberus was sprawled out on the ground beside of Medusa, his three heads snoring softly, and the center one resting heavily on the small of her back.

“You know, for a hell hound, you’re a real pussy,” she said, scratching the scales between the ears of the huge head that rested on the earth in front of her. Cerberus grumbled softly, then rolled over on his back, exposing his soft, dark underbelly for Medusa to rub.

“If only the incoming souls knew you like I know you. Ha. Hades wouldn’t stand a chance of scaring anyone.” At the mention of fresh victims to terrorize, Cerberus slit one scaly lid open and his barbed tail thumped softly on the ground.

“Patience, Cerby,” Medusa crooned. “They’ll be here soon enough. They have to be…”

Medusa had been waiting for what felt like forever for Charon to get here with his latest boatload of newly dead souls—the only event that interrupted the monotony of eternity here in the Under World. Only here could a girl come to appreciate what bored to death truly meant. Fact was, Charon’s daily arrivals marked her only chance to hear news of the goings on back on Earth. Where her beloved Perseus still lived.

With that bitch, Athena, no doubt.

Ever since Poseidon began vying for Medusa’s affections, Athena had made it her one goal in eternity to win Perseus for herself. And when she figured out she’d never manage to turn his head her way head fair and square, she figured the only way she could have him was to get Medusa out of the way.

Forever.

“Which is how I got stuck here in the first place.” Medusa cringed, wondering what Perseus must have thought when he’d seen her hair turn into a gaggle of snarling vipers.“Talk about your bad hair days,” she said, twirling one of her many braids around her finger. “No wonder he cut my head off…”

But Medusa’s time in Hades had softened her anger. Thanks to Athena’s sorcery, Perseus had merely acted in self defense. She’d forgiven her beloved eons ago. After all, she had been completely hormonal that day. And Athena (that bitch) had an uncanny gift for plucking Medusa’s last nerve…making her show her worst side with a skill Medusa might have admired had it been directed at anyone else.

Yes. Like all men, poor Perseus had been but putty in Athena’s perfect hands. Once the fetching goddess batted those lavender eyes at him, the poor angel hadn’t stood a chance, and now, here Medusa was, locked up in Hades for all eternity.

Medusa hadn’t even managed to get into Perseus’ toga before she died.

And it was all Athena’s fault.

Medusa gulped, recalling the pressure of Perseus’ sword on her neck.

“I’m sure he’d never meant to hurt me, Cerby,” she said, fingering the ribbon around her neck. After all, there is a very thin line between love and hate. And It was all her doing…Athena’s. If she hadn’t come along and ruined my life? Why there’s no telling where I’d be.”

Cerberus whined sympathetically.

“I certainly wouldn’t even be here…dead. As horny as a Vestal Virgin, and hating every minute of it.”

Cerberus snorted in agreement.

“Dogs really are a girl’s best friend.” Medusa said, patting the black beast with affection. “Even the three headed kind.”

Medusa scooted closer down to the water’s edge to gain a better view of the Stygian Marsh , where the many rivers of the Under World converged. Not that it helped much. Who ever created the Under World in the first place did a heckuva good job of making sure the souls confined here and the souls back on Earth never caught a glimpse of each other.

As usual, Medusa’s struggle to maintain some connection to the life that Athena stole from her resulted in making her even more uncomfortable. Her back ached and her flimsy robe was rapidly absorbing the moisture from the soggy ground. Normally such discomfort would have sent her running for dryer ground—it wasn’t like Hades had ever given her so much as a single change of clothing—but today, she didn’t intend to budge.

Not one inch.

Even though she knew that her linen robe would wrinkle like—well, hell—and that the rumpled look was tres last season, just this once, she was willing to risk the fashion faux pas. She simply wouldn’t let herself miss this boat load of the newly dead.

Not when there might be news of Perseus to be had.

It was the height of Fashion Week in New York City, and she had overheard Hades telling Persephone that there was a major fashion designer on board—a suicide case, whose latest collection the critics had been less than complimentary toward. Scathing was the word Hades had used to describe the debacle.

“Poor guy,” Medusa said. “His career, his life…all of it will be up in flames once Hades has his say. Everybody know a designer is only as good a yesterday’s press.”

But his misfortune might be the closest thing to a stroke of luck Medusa had known during this millennium. Last she had heard, Perseus was still billed as the world’s top male model, just like he’d been when he posed for Michaelangelo’s David. That news hadn’t surprised Medusa one bit. After all…Perseus was hot, immortal, and he probably still looked centuries younger then his real age.

And unlike his mortal counterparts, he’d never need Botox to stay young, and beautiful. Not to mention hung like Cyclops--and then some.

“What more could a gorgon ask for in a man?” Closing her eyes, her heart clenched as she called her lost lover’s sun washed image into her mind. “His smile was bright enough to launch a thousand ships…”

Cerberus grunted, his black eyes rolling to white.

“Ok, fine, the line was borrowed, but you get the gist. They just don’t make heroes like that anymore.”

And she’d certainly never seen one here, in the Under World. Well, unless you counted Hades himself. Granted, he gave new meaning to the word hot, and yes, he was a god, but he was also quite taken with Persephone.

Smitten, in fact.

Things might not be so bad if Medusa had managed to get her beloved’s pants before she died.

But Athena had put a damper on that little plan, too.

And as long as she remained in the Under World, Medusa figured she’d never get laid.

Ever.

So getting her Perseus fix in a vicarious manner was all the life she had left.

“Surely whoever the dead designer is, he will bring me some news of Perseus…”

And who knew? If she played her cards right, he might even be willing to give Medusa a do over. God knows the Under Would could benefit from a dash of style, and she was long overdue for a new look.

By like—twenty five hundred years?

The more Medusa thought about the man’s arrival, the more worked up she got.

“Oh, Cerbey, where are they?”

The day was growing late, and already the forgetting mists from the River Lethe were rolling over the planes. If Charon dallied much longer, she’d not only forget why she’d come here in the first place, she’d end up with a major case of humidity hair to contend with.

The last time that had happened she’d been so upset that she’d turned a legion of Argonauts to stone—just one of the many reasons Hades cited for why she’d ended up spending her eternity in Hades instead of Elysium.
Hades. Oh, even thinking of the arrogant bastard set her teeth on edge. The god was nearly as hard hearted as he was hard headed. In all this time, he had never once taken the time to listen to all the extenuating circumstances that got her here in the first place.

Death was just so unfair.

And so was Hades.