"Have a seat. The Heavenly One will be with you in a moment."

"Thank you!"

Plopping onto the plush lip-shaped sofa, I eye the bowl of golden apples on the coffee table. I don't think the apple that started the Trojan War looked quite like that, but whoever decorated this place surely knew their references if they put it in Aphrodite's waiting room.

Just the thought of seeing Her Heavenliness sends my heart fluttering. I knew she would notice my efforts sooner or later, and her summons were like an espresso shot straight to my head. Even now, my knee bounces as my mind flips through the scripts I meticulously rehearsed before my mirror.

To distract myself lest I burst out screaming like a banshee (no offence to my girls, but they are quite noisy) I bite into an apple. I take my time savouring it, letting every corner of my mouth feel its texture.

"Ih-teresh-ting flay-vuh," I tell the secretary as I chew and swallow. "Kinda like early harvest Red Delicious. What variety are they?"

As if pulled by a string, the lady's smile drops, her mouth flying open the moment she looks at me. Blinking, she stops just short of rubbing her eyes with her fists.

"It's plastic," she says, "They're fake."

Well. That explains the lack of juice and the aftertaste of Styrofoam.

"Oh, well." I shrug. "Not the worst I've had. A good thing succubi can digest almost anything, right?"

I bite into it again, pushing through the dryness in my mouth.

"What are you doing?!" The woman's eyes go wide as she approaches.

"Ionwanna geh you in truh-buh," I manage before I swallow that mouthful. "No trace of bitten plastic apple means no proof of a silly succubus taking a bite out of it, means no such thing happened under your watch, means I get to have a snack and help out a friend. Win-win-win, right?"

She freezes with her mouth open, that look on her face wrestling with a creeping smile.

"A friend?" She scoffs. "Lady, this is the first time I've laid eyes on you."

"And who said we can't be friends?" I shrug and throw the rest of the apple into my mouth before offering my hand to shake. Her eyes narrow as she looks into mine, but I just hold my smile and sit there, watching her skepticism morph into acceptance as her shoulders sag and the corners of her mouth turn up.

"No one, I suppose," she says, clasping my palm, "Thank you, Friend."

"You can call me Kelsia if you want."

"Aria," she replies, "My actual name is Ariadne, but my friends call me Aria."

The phone chooses that moment to ring.

"She's ready for you," Aria says after hanging up.

"Figures." Jumping up, I stretch and give myself a once-over in the hallway mirror. "Let's do this, then!"

Past the huge golden double doors, Aphrodite stands in a large pearlescent room. Behind her is an immaculate marble desk and framing it are tall windows rimmed with gold. Elsewhere, the walls are decorated with paintings and statues of herself, Ares, and Eros.

"Heavenly One." I bow to the goddess before me. "How may I serve you?"

"Take a seat," her melodic voice rings out.

She is, of course, the epitome of her domain. Her skin is poreless and smooth as alabaster, her eyes wide, honey-brown, and almond-shaped, and her hair like rose gold cascades down her hourglass figure. There are rumours she adopted this look only after Botticelli's painting of her supposed birth. If they are true, the goddess of love and beauty knew what she was doing.

I sit on one of two plush white velvet armchairs before her desk as she rests in her white leather chair behind it. She opens a manila folder, delicate fingers tracing the paper inside as she scans its contents. My heart pulses against my eardrums as I watch her, half infatuated and half almost excited enough for that plastic apple to come out of my other end.

"You have done very well for yourself, Kelsia," she says, "Four hundred years and not a single complaint by or against you, only praise. Admittedly, I'm impressed, and it's not easy to impress me."

Her words send a wave of electrifying goosebumps through me. I fight with every single cell in my body to not squeal, but I can't do anything to stop my mouth from stretching into a smile wide enough to hurt a little. Two spots between my shoulder blades itch, and the prospect is almost enough to make me lose all control and melt.

"Thank you, Your Heavenliness," my voice comes in only two octaves higher than usual. I'd say that's a valiant effort on my part.

"No need, dear," my goddess says, smiling at me, "You've done well. Especially in the matchmaking department. Is that a particular interest of yours?"

"Yes," I bob my head aggressively enough to give a human whiplash. I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe I finally made it.

"Good." She lets my folder drop to her desk as she sits back. "Then you'll be perfect."

My heart sinks as those spots itch again. This was not in any of my rehearsed conversations.

"You're a very unique succubus, Kelsia," my goddess continues when I don't answer, "Your fellows usually give up after a century at most. You know how it goes, 'Oh, it's been eons, I'm never getting my wings back, being a succubus isn't that bad, something something cognitive dissonance, fuck this.'" She raises a perfectly trimmed and shaped eyebrow. "But not you. You persisted for centuries. That's true grit and dedication, my dear, and requires a certain amount of... stubbornness."

I swallow as much as my dry mouth allows me. This isn't a bad thing. Sure, I may not get restored to angel status today, but praise from Aphrodite is an accomplishment in and of itself. I'm on her radar now and I just need to keep doing what I'm doing. Maybe a couple hundred more years. Hell is getting a renovation anyway, it will be fun!

"Th-thank you," my voice cracks, "Thank you, your—"

She puts her hand up. "Don't thank me yet. There is something I need you to do for me before I give you what you want. Consider it your final test."

Oh. Oh! Phew!

"Of course!" I nearly jump out of my seat. "Anything! I'll do anything, Aph— Your Heavenliness, anything."

This was a fun rollercoaster of emotions, but I'm happy for it to have ended here.

"That's the spirit." Aphrodite smiles. "Your task is simple. Bring my son back to work."

Or maybe not.

"Your son?" I blink. "Eros?"

The goddess sighs. "You've undoubtedly heard of his... breakup, haven't you?"

Nodding, I think back to the gossip that's been going around the past few days. Word is that Psyche left him for Narcissus, but I don't dare say that to his mother.

"That bitch." She rolls her eyes. "I told him she was beneath him, and now look at what she's done; left my boy for a self-obsessed powdered whore."

Sighing, she mutters under her breath, "I wish I could kill Lucretia for deflowering him."

A few moments pass as I wait for her to throw another sharp turn into the roller coaster that I thought had ended. When it looks like she will not, I speak.

"Your Heavenliness, how can I ever hope to convince a god?"

"Between you and me, gods aren't that different from people or demons." She huffs. "Or annoyingly enticing vampires."

"Enticing?"

"Never mind." Her smile returns. "Look, I'd do it myself, but... well, he's in Florida, and I'm not a fan of that place."

"Have you been there, Heavenly One?"

"No, but I've heard more than enough to last two immortal lifetimes, which is why I'm sending you."

Well, if all I have to do to get my wings back is go to a swamp and talk the god of love into coming home, who am I to say no to that? Just as I'm about to open my mouth, though, she speaks again.

"Now, I have to warn you, my son is as stubborn as a mule." Her perfect eyebrows shoot up as she looks squarely into my eyes. "But don't let it stop you. Heal his broken heart, help him find his one true love, and return to him the will to do his job. Only when all three terms are fulfilled will your wings be returned to you. Am I understood?"

"I thought you said my task is simple." My mouth blurts out.

"Simple, yes," Aphrodite shakes her head. "Easy? Not at all. But if anyone can do it, it's you, my dear. So, what do you say?"

Maybe gods see this differently, but to me, none of what she said sounded simple or easy. Yet I've spent the past four hundred years doing exactly that. How much harder can one more time be?

"Alright," I bob my head. "You can count on me, Your Heavenliness."

"Excellent," she smiles, "Brace yourself and break a leg."

"Wait, now—?!"

I blink and the room—floor under my feet included—vanishes.

WC: 1,529
TWC : 3,024