The Revelation (Pandora's Harem 1) A Reverse Harem Tale(2)
Present Day, New York
It isn’t every day you wake up and learn your entire life has been a lie. That you’re immortal, created by the gods, and are the cause of all of humanity’s misfortunes from heartache to pain.
But today, that’s exactly what I’m being told. And to make matters worse, this shocking revelation isn’t coming from a good friend, a blood relative, or even someone I’d consider an acquaintance. At least, not on a personal level, as I don’t do the deep friend crap all that much. What can I say? I have a serious issue with trust, like major serious. But I always thought the reason why I’m such a loner, and highly selective as to who I keep around as a good friend, is due to my upbringing in foster homes, having been bounced from one family to the next. Now I know that’s not so. The screwed-up nature of my soul goes much deeper.
I stand in front of Professor Os’s huge oak desk, my mind reeling with shock after hearing her revelation, to make my feet or any other part of me, move. But I can’t stay frozen like this all day. “Can you repeat that, please?” I barely get out the words.
Professor Os tilts her head, her long, blond hair cascades down her right shoulder. “Zeus ordered you created by the gods.”
That’s what I thought she’d said. But how can my boss know this shit? Yes, Professor Kaye Os is the Curator of Mythical Collections at Thorel H. Lane University, the school from where I’d just crammed four years of study into to three to earn my degree in Greek Mythology, and now work as the brilliant doctor’s research assistant. But how can she really think I’m part of the world she teaches about? That’s insane.
“Because it’s my world,” she says, apparently reading my mind. “I’m one of them. I’m a goddess.”
Yeah, right.
This is totally batshit crazy.
“Not really,” Os says, again apparently delving into my thoughts.
I’m not sure I like her mind fucks.
She frowns. “Let me try repeating myself in simpler terms. Have you never thought about why you were given a full scholarship to Thorel H. Lane?”
Good grades?
Os smirks. “Thorel H. Lane is an anagram for Hell on Earth. As in the hell you unleashed on earth thousands of years ago when you disobeyed Zeus and opened that damn box he’d given you. You’re one of us. This whole place is one of ours.” She opens her arms wide as if she can encompass the entire university campus. And maybe she can, if what she’s saying about her being a goddess is true. Though I still have my doubts. And who wouldn’t? A story like this is crazy.
Professor Os sulks. “I know this is hard to understand, especially since you’re not a goddess. But trust me, you’re not mortal, either. Nothing about you is normal in the way you perceive normal to be.”
I don’t need a college professor, or a goddess for that matter, to tell me what I already know. The three sets of typical middle-class foster parents who had taken me in over the years, were very clear on that point. Normal was never my thing. Still isn’t.
Os continues. “You were lured to this university by the gods. They created a whole world on earth just for you. Just to bring you to this moment in time so you can have your one chance at redemption. We never abandon one of our own forever. Unless you go and do something very stupid against us, which you haven’t. Zeus likes you. Overall he’s been extremely kind to you and that should be appreciated.”
I really am in shock. Zeus must have a very sick sense of humor if my life is an example of him being kind, because my world is so not anything like the stories of his life or the lives of the other gods I research daily at work. Those crazy ass dwellers on the top of Mount Olympus obviously get off on dealing out crappy hands when it comes to serving up fate, because I certainly have not lived a life full of ambrosia, marble temples, and powers strong enough to control the weather or anything else. I’m lucky if I can pay the rent most months. Bastards and bitches.
“I think now would be a good time for you to sit, Pandora.” Os points to one of the wood chairs in front of her desk.
I slowly lower myself into the seat and try to rationalize the news Kaye has told me. It’s a lot to take in. “Pandora,” I say in a barely there whisper, voicing the word to try it out on my tongue, see what I get from the name. Nothing. I’ve been called Dora—with no Pan attached to it, not even in the slightest—my entire life. This name flip is so not the thing I want to learn on the eve of my twenty-first birthday. “Am I really named Pandora?”
I stare at Kaye who seems to be mulling over her answer.
She lets out a deep breath while tapping her fingers on the cover of a massive leather-bound book that looks as old as time, its brown cover tattered along the edges. “Yes,” she says, finally. “Your birth name is Pandora. And I do mean that Pandora, the one you’ve learned about in Greek Mythology 101.”
The news is beyond shocking. I also wonder how Os even found the information. “What prompted you to do this? To look in to my background?” I don’t remember ever asking for the favor, though I did, at one time, mention to Kaye that it would be nice to know who I am, where I come from, and all that crap. But I never expected her to act on my comments. What made her do such a thing?
From across her desk, Professor Os gives me a serious stare, a glower made all the more ominous thanks to her deep plumb eyeshadow accented with thick black liner. And not the pencil type of liner, but the liquid kind, the type of makeup that you use to achieve Cleopatra eyes. Not that I’m opposed to the look, in fact, I favor it some days, but it doesn’t suit Kaye. It makes her look very cunning and bitchy.