Divine Deception

Kiah

The elevator dings as it comes to a stop at the top of a beautiful high-rise in the heart of New York City. My parents own the whole upper floor while their business, Mt Olympia Inc. is housed in the rest of the building. What the human world doesn't see from the street would surely freak them out completely. The top penthouse is actually not in the shape of a sleek building rooftop but in the shape of the Parthenon.

Those with divine blood can see it for what it is, shining and swirling in mists, while the humans see nothing but glass windows. I used to give my parents so much sass for living that way, but I cannot deny that there is a level of comfort and familiarity in their preference.

Shiny gold doors open into the marble foyer lined with statues. Most people have portraits of their family, we have marble effigies. Each statue is connected to the corresponding God or Goddess. This is achieved by the represented person embedding something of theirs inside it. Should they desire to appear here, they simply connect with the energy of their personal artifact. My father's statue has one of his favorite daggers placed on the carved belt, my mother's has a pendent that matches my own around its neck, so on and so forth.

I hustle through the hall; these statues give me the creeps. I can feel their eyes on me as I pass by. The main doorway off the hall of statues is the main living area for my family. In all my years on this earth, my parent's taste in decor has never changed.

Dad, being Ares the God of War, likes his weapons. Every master blade he forged with his brother, my uncle Hephaestus, hangs on the wall to my left. Each one polished to a brilliant shine. Underneath the weapons are shelves lined with his favorite helmets, most correspond to a victory he achieved. Intermingled with those are his most prized offerings from his mortal followers.

On the wall to my right, next to the pathways to other parts of the house, mother has her own treasure trove of memories she's collected through the centuries. There is a statue in each corner, one depicting her in the Grecian style, the other in the roman style. Between them are floor to ceiling floating shelves of her favorite offerings. Little things we children have made her as we've grown are sprinkled in any available space left on the shelves. Various sized carved animals, a few pieces of clay with our handprints on them. There are even small wooden boxes that contain our baby teeth and locks of hair. Mortals would depict her as a sex crazed, vain woman but to know her is to know she lives for her children.

The rest of the room is more modern. A plush cream-colored sofa covered in fluffy pink pillows and soft velvety blankets sits facing the back wall with a large flat screen tv mounted on it. Elegant round wooden side tables sit on either side of the sofa. Mother doesn't latch on too many trends but has adapted the "clean girl" aesthetic this time around. The room looks like you'd order in a modern living catalog. A mix of modern and antique, just like us.

Clicking on the marble floor echos from the rest of the house. Mother enters the room in all her "Goddess of Love" beauty. Aphrodite is known for her style, and she doesn't disappoint today. Dressed in a charcoal grey suit jacket and matching pencil skirt with a blush pink button-down shirt underneath. The top two buttons are open which allows a small look at her feminine wiles. Her shining blond hair is twisted up in a neat chignon at her nape and her makeup is light since she doesn't actually need any.

"Kiah my love!" She exclaims in a melodic voice.

"Hi mom." I say as she steps into me for a hug.

"To what do we owe the pleasure my gem?" She leans away but still holds my hands in-between us.

"I needed to talk to you and dad about some things. Is he around today?" I scan the hall behind her. It is always easier to talk when I have both of them. Mom loves me more than anything, but she doesn't know that our interactions cause me anxiety. Dad is a good buffer and can tell when I'm becoming uncomfortable.