Where You Go ― Jason Grace

xiii. girl's trip to meet a ghost (who's not actually a ghost)

"Piper!" Ophelia called, frowning in confusion.

"We'd better follow her," Hazel said.

By the time they reached Piper, the apparition was only a few yards away, and Piper was glaring at it like the sight offended her.

"It is her," she grumbled.

Ophelia squinted at the figure, but it blazed too brightly for her to make out any details. Then the apparition floated up the seawall and stopped in front of them. The glow faded.

Annabeth gasped, and Ophelia couldn't blame her. The woman was breathtakingly beautiful. Golden blonde hair, dazzling eyes that, like Piper's, never seemed to settle on one color. She was dressed like a Southern belle, just like Jason had described. Her gown had a low-cut bodice of pink silk and a three-tiered hoop skirt with white scalloped lace. She wore tall white silk gloves, and held a feathered pink-and-white fan to her chest.

Everything about her seemed designed to make Ophelia feel less-than: the easy grace with which she wore her dress, the perfect yet understated makeup, the way she radiated feminine charm that no man could possibly resist.

Annabeth seemed to recognize the figure. "Aphrodite," she said.

"Venus?" Hazel asked in amazement.

"Mom," Piper said, with no enthusiasm.

"Girls!" The goddess spread her arms like she wanted a group hug.

None of them obliged. Hazel backed into a palmetto tree.

"I'm so glad you're here," Venus said. "War is coming. Bloodshed is inevitable. So there's really only one thing to do."

"... And what might that be?" Ophelia asked.

"Why, have tea and chat, obviously. Come with me!"

❖

Ophelia had never been to an actual tea party before, but she was pretty sure Venus's were probably more extravagant than necessary. The table before them was set with polished silverware, china cups, and, of course, a steaming pot of tea. The fragrance seemed to shift as easily as the goddess's eye color—sometimes cinnamon, or jasmine, or mint. There were plates of scones, cookies, and muffins, fresh butter and jam—the whole shebang.

Venus sat—or rather, held court—in a wicker peacock chair. She poured tea and served cakes without getting a speck on her clothes, her posture always perfect, her smile dazzling.

"Oh, my sweet girls," the goddess said. "I do love Charleston! The weddings I've attended in this gazebo—they bring tears to my eyes. And the elegant balls in the days of the Old South. Ah, they were lovely. Many of these mansions still have statues of me in their gardens, though they called me Venus."

"Which are you?" Annabeth asked. "Venus or Aphrodite?"

The goddess sipped her tea, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Annabeth Chase, you've grown into quite a beautiful young lady. You should really do something about your hair, though. And Hazel Levesque, your clothes—"

"My clothes?" Hazel looked down at her rumpled denim, not self-consciously, but like she couldn't imagine what was wrong with them.

"And you, Ophelia Imai," the goddess continued, settling her gaze on Ophelia. "I do so love the adorable boyfriend's t-shirt thing you've got going on, but if you really want to show off your figure—"

"Mother!" Piper said as Ophelia's face flushed. "You're embarrassing me."

"Well, I don't see why," the goddess said. "Just because you don't appreciate my fashion tips, Piper, doesn't mean the others won't. I could do a quick makeover for the girls, perhaps silk ball gowns like mine—"