Lovesick Gods

by Amanda Meuwissen

  Zeus came first with a crack of lightning and bright glowing tumble of white and gold until he rolled to a stop like he’d been thrown. Then the shadows caught up to him, to everywhere, as tendrils of something blacker than the void appeared to herald Thanatos’s arrival.

  He hovered as though flying, though whether his shadows buoyed him or the tendrils acted like spider legs to hold him up, Mal could never be sure. He was truly godlike in his sleek black and purple suit, face covered with only his eyes visible. His presence made Zeus seem small and fragile by comparison.

  Struggling to get to his feet as Thanatos approached, Zeus was clearly hurt, weakened and limping, with tears in his suit. He should be retreating, but he stood his ground. Mal soon saw why.

  Several tendrils snaked out of the darkness that trailed behind Thanatos like a backdrop of starless sky. They coiled around the body of a woman and unrolled slowly until she dropped from their clutches, limp like a ragdoll. It was awful how purple she looked, dead from his shadows choking her like so many people before her.

  Thanatos stretched out his tendrils of darkness and raked them through the buildings on either side of the street, cutting the glass like blades. The civilian was dead. Zeus had no reason to stay. Watching him flicker as he tried to lightning jump to safety, Mal saw his nemesis falter, fail, and fall to his knees in exhaustion. He’d waited too long to make an escape.

  Hesitant to do something that might gain Thanatos’s attention, Mal shook his head at Lucy and Dom when they turned to him for guidance, but Oz was the one at the mouth of the alley. He looked at the woman’s body, at Zeus vulnerable and at Thanatos’s mercy, and before Mal could tell him to stop, it wasn’t worth it, Oz was gone. He teleported to Zeus and fled with him in the blink of an eye.

  Roaring at being denied his favorite plaything, more glass broke as Thanatos’s shadows exploded out of him, raining shards down upon the empty street. Lucy backed up closer against Mal with a tremble, but Oz didn’t abandon them to be discovered. He returned and one by one took each of them away—Dom, Lucy, and finally Mal himself.

  Gasping at the sensation of suddenly being elsewhere, Mal saw that they were in another alley, but not near their getaway vehicle—that would have been too risky. Oz had brought them all the way back to Mal’s neighborhood, near a safe house, but not so close that Zeus would be tipped off to its location.

  Because Zeus stood among them.

  “Are you okay?” Oz asked, helping Zeus lean against the brick of the building.

  Too beaten to reply, Zeus eventually huffed out a feeble, “Thanks.”

  Mal didn’t know what to do in such odd mixed company. Banter seemed in poor taste after seeing that woman’s body.

  “If this job…was just running after you…” Zeus panted and shook his head with a bitter laugh. He glanced dismissively at their bags of loot. “But he’s out there too. Hurting people. Killing people. Someone needs to pick up the pieces when innocents get caught in the middle. I don’t even know who that woman was.” He choked out another humorless laugh, not caring that all four Elemental Titans surrounded him. “Sorry if I don’t feel like playing tonight, Ice Man. Guess you get a free shot if you want it. Can’t take on all of you...”

  Stepping forward to take Oz’s place in front of Zeus, Mal noted that the man didn’t even flinch. “Where’d the fun be in that, Sparky?” he said and gestured that Zeus was free to go. Dom and Lucy gave no complaints—they wouldn’t—but Oz stood tense, conflicted by what had happened.

  Zeus picked up on it when he pushed from the wall and started to trudge out of the alley. “I understand them,” he said to Oz. “I know why they do this. But why do you? You were a medical student once, Percy.”

  Oz still wore his mask, but Mal could tell his eyes widened. “How do you know that?”

  Zeus wore his mask too. Mal didn’t know the man’s face yet, but he imagined he smiled. “I’m good at solving puzzles. Your father died with mountains of debt you couldn’t pay off. You were desperate, I get that. But these heists with Cho have made you enough to start over. We could use a few more good guys in this city.”

  Any other night Mal would have spoken up to counter that, but tonight he couldn’t find the words.

  “Thanks for the assist,” Zeus nodded at Oz, then at each of the others, and finally landed his attention on Mal, not knowing that Oz had acted alone. “Almost forgot we were enemies for a minute.”

  Taking in a deep breath, Zeus summoned enough strength to lightning jump away and was gone in a shimmer of yellow.

  Oz took his mask off right there in the alley and never put it on again.

  ß

  Now, Mal knew that the reason Danny was so good at solving puzzles was because he was a detective. He’d chosen to give Oz a pass despite having learned his identity. In this case, that gamble had paid off.

  “I’ll go put that order in,” Carla said with a warm smile.

  Mal watched her leave with fondness that he quickly covered up when Lucy grinned at him. Oz had introduced them to his nursing school friend when the trouble first started—or at least when Oz learned how bad things were.

  He’d asked them to escort Carla and her son Michael to the abuse shelter in Mal’s neighborhood because her ex was on the rampage. Having Oz owe him and the chance to get Hermes back in the field were enticing incentives on their own, but barely thirty seconds of the story and who it involved had won Mal over to the benefits of lending a hand.

  “Does she know?” Mal turned serious as he looked to the others.

  “That Sean was in the neighborhood the other day?” Oz said. “No. Why worry her?”

  “She’s not supposed to get overly stressed,” Lucy said. “It’s bad for the baby.”

  “Look who’s the expert all of a sudden.” Mal smirked at her.

  Oz chuckled. There was no strain between them since he’d chosen to leave the Titans. “Wish I could join you, but I just stopped in to see Carla before class. You two take care.” He made to follow after Carla into the kitchen.

  “You sure I can’t interest you in an upcoming business proposal?” Mal folded his hands on the tabletop. He knew what the answer would be, but he still had to ask.

  “Maybe next time,” Oz grinned.

  Lucy kicked Mal under the table once he’d walked away. “Stress isn’t good for anyone, Mickey. That’s just common sense. And Sean’s being bold. Stupid. At first he had other goons with him, but lately it’s just been him. Sure, we know his father wants him to wash his hands of Carla and back off so as not to piss off you, but if you take the idiot out sometime in the near future, we’ll have a war on our hands no matter who shoots first.”

  “I’m aware.” Mal took a sip of his coffee. Usually at Haven, it was sludge, but Carla had a knack for making do with what she had. “I’ll take care of it. Sean was lucky he didn’t run into me.”

  “Mickey…”

  “Relax. My only plan is to put a little fear in him should our paths cross. This lack of respect is becoming grating.” He paused and met eyes with his sister. “Let’s send something nice to his old man for staying out of it.”

  Lucy nodded. She knew how to handle that side of the business. Mal tended to get—at least in Lucy’s words—dramatic.

  “You’d think he’d be more protective of his grandchildren,” Mal mused.

  “He is,” Lucy said in more somber tones. “That’s why he wants Sean to stay away. But he still can’t bring himself to act against his son.”

  It was all too reminiscent, which Lucy never failed to point out to Mal. But their grandfather had been better, done more to get them away from their tyrant of a father; he’d simply died before he could succeed.

  Still though. Young son. Baby girl on the way. Abusive father worth little more than the dirt beneath Mal’s shoes. It was a familiar story. Even if, in Carla’s case, no Elemental
s were involved outside of the Titans and Oz. Mal’s father had never held back with his ice when he hit him and Lucy.

  “We’ll just have to clean up the trash ourselves,” Mal said.

  “So chivalrous, Mickey?”

  “This isn’t about protecting Carla,” he said, likely too quickly on the defensive judging by how the corners of Lucy’s mouth twitched. “This is about protecting our investments in our territory. And keeping the Dunkirks from thinking they have any right to my streets.”

  Lucy tapped her fingernails on her own coffee cup. “Funny how quickly ‘our’ turns into ‘my’.”

  It was a figure of speech, but Lucy always had to correct him if he dared call Olympus City or any of its streets his.

  “Even funnier,” Lucy continued, “is how you can pretend this isn’t just as much about making sure Carla, Michael, and the baby are safe as sticking it to Dunkirk.” Leaning her elbows on the table, she propped her chin on twined fingers. “You’re not going soft just by staying a few steps ahead of the real scum, Mickey. But you can’t deny we wouldn’t even know Carla’s name without Oz, and suddenly, she’s not only safe at the shelter but moving into her own apartment in your building and getting a cushy job right here where you can keep an eye on her.”

  That had nothing to do with how much Carla reminded Mal of his mother, right down to the shade of her skin and curve of her smile. Absolutely nothing…

  “Like I said,” Mal narrowed his eyes, “protecting our investments. Oz wouldn’t look too kindly on something happening to his girlfriend. Neither would you, I imagine.”

  “Oh I’d kick your ass,” Lucy smiled with equal affection and menace. “But I’m not worried. You want to feel the baby kick just as much as I do, you just won’t admit it.”

  Mal squirmed in his seat and Lucy took on a triumphant expression. He did not want to feel the baby. It was just…fascinating.

  “Speaking of you going soft…”

  “Don’t start.”

  “Come on, I know you’ve seen this mystery man more than once now. And Dom is being way too tight-lipped about it, which must mean she knows something I don’t.”

  “Why are you wasting her time asking about my love life?” Mal scowled. “Can’t imagine she has much patience for it.”

  “Love life instead of sex life. Interesting…” Lucy trailed.

  Mal fanned his hands out on the tabletop, anxious for their food to arrive so he had somewhere to look other than at Lucy or into his coffee cup. He wasn’t ready to share Danny with her just yet. That would be accompanied by far too many I told you so’s.

  “Focus on the heist, Luce,” he said. “It’ll sneak up on us before we know it.”

  She got the hint, emphasized by how Mal didn’t look away when their eyes met. “About that.”

  “That?”

  “The heist, Mickey. I know we’re down to the wire, with everything falling into place, but with Dunkirk hanging around—”

  “We’re not pushing back the heist,” Mal said with authority.

  “Mickey…”

  “We planned things down to the last detail. Including the timeline. The night guard at the history museum is retiring. New guy starts the day we hit the place. We throw off any of the planning now, we open ourselves to mistakes. And you better not be thinking of testing out that lipstick on this one. We have the gas. There’s only one guard. It’s taken care of.”

  “Wasn’t planning on it,” she batted her eyes at him innocently. “Just gave the order to Priestly while it was on my mind. I’ll think of something useful for it.” Smiling to herself, she glanced up and off to the side.

  Mal reached for his coffee, and as he did so, he let one finger tap the edge of his sister’s cup. Taking a drink, he waited for her to mimic the action. When she did, she grimaced at its now ice-cold state.

  The single flower in a sad little vase on their table wilted as she glowered at him.

  “Jerk.”

  “Brat.”

  Mal’s ire dissipated. He never could stay angry with Lucy for long. And he wasn’t really upset; he understood her caution, which was smart, but Dunkirk was no real threat to the heist as long as they kept an eye on things. Knowing that he was mostly working solo now made an important difference. No one was going to mess up this job for him. Not even Zeus.

  If all went according to plan, Danny wouldn’t even know the heist had gone down until the morning after, and then there would be nothing to pin the blame on Mal other than a little leftover ice. And that would just be between Prometheus and Zeus, not nearly enough for Detective Danny Grant to pin on anyone.

  “Let’s go over the basics again, sis. I want to be sure you’ve got the timetable down.”

  In the few minutes remaining before Carla came out with their lunch, they discussed the specifics of every step of the heist from their starting rendezvous points outside the museum to the moment they made their getaway—all within the quiet calm of Haven in the early afternoon. Barely even any regulars were there that time of day.

  It wasn’t until Carla arrived with their food, handling her tray with flawless ease despite having to maneuver around her belly, that something caught Mal’s eye. Something…off.

  He knew the glint wasn’t Carla, but when he turned and caught sight of the large mirror behind the bar, he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary within the glass either. Just his own reflection staring back at him. Looking behind him at the other tables, he wondered if someone had gotten up, moved, knocked over a chair, something that might explain whatever he’d seen in the mirror. But no. Nothing.

  Shaking his head, Mal turned back to the table and thanked Carla for their food. He clearly needed more sleep.

  ß

  It was only the next day, Saturday afternoon, when Mal entered his apartment with one arm occupied by a grocery bag, that something else seemed amiss. The rug in front of the door was slightly askew. A quick glance up revealed that the chair by his desk on the other side of the apartment had been pulled out.

  Holding his breath, Mal listened for any telltale signs that the intruder was still there, but nothing betrayed itself. He turned on the light, heeled off his shoes, brought the grocery bag to the kitchen island as his eyes scanned the apartment for other tells, and then—stopped cold.

  A note rested on top of the island on a piece of paper from his desk. It read:

  In the fridge.

  Owed you for the Thai food.

  Save some for me though.

  Looking forward to tonight.

  –Sparky.

  Mal was simultaneously impressed and furious.

  After checking the refrigerator to see that Danny had picked up some rather nice catering from a sandwich shop a few blocks over, with salad and even several cookies, Mal couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, which he tried to banish on principle alone. He put away the groceries, hung up his jacket, and stormed across the apartment to his computer.

  Nothing much appeared to be disturbed, other than the chair and the pad of paper Danny had used to write the note. Mal was grateful that one of his first requests of Priestly when the kid joined the Titans involved security and surveillance for his apartment and all of his safe houses. He could access any of the cameras from his home computer; one in particular faced the front door and kitchen.

  Pulling up the footage from the moment he’d left his apartment, he fast-forwarded until he saw Danny. A fizzle of yellow sparks signaled his arrival. Mal watched the footage—Danny in skinny jeans, a green button down, and bomber jacket casually moving through Mal’s apartment. Mal nodded approval when the kid took off his shoes before moving into the kitchen and arranging the food in the fridge. At least he was learning. Then Danny spun around. He hadn’t turned on the light, but there was enough ambient light from the slits of windows that Mal could still see his mischievous expression
.

  Danny walked out of frame, so Mal brought up a different camera from the same time. Now the view faced Mal’s desk as Danny pulled out the chair to sit and reached for the computer.

  Tensing, Mal sat up taller. But Danny seemed to think better of his actions and grabbed the pad of paper instead. He found a pen, wrote the note, and ripped off the piece of paper to take with him. Then he got up without looking at the computer again.

  Switching back to the main camera, Mal watched Danny set the note on the counter before giving the apartment a final once over and then lightning jumping away.

  He’d had the chance to rifle through anything of Mal’s he wanted. He wouldn’t have found anything worthwhile, Mal was too careful for that, unless Danny had found the secret room for his Prometheus gear, but still. Mal shouldn’t be surprised. Danny was just keeping the banter going, being the playful, adorable hero that Mal…well, that Mal enjoyed a good tumble with, whether in the bedroom or with fists and wits flying.

  The realization warmed him. Danny played by the rules, beginning to end, although Mal would have to have a talk with him about the breaking and entering. He valued his privacy, his space, above all else, yet there he was, amused more than upset that Danny had crossed a boundary as easily as he’d crossed the threshold into Mal’s apartment.

  All the more reason Mal should end this sooner rather than later. The heist might not sour their encounters, but something would, eventually. Best to get ahead of it before he grew too attached, before Danny got any ideas about this being more than just sex between nemeses.

  Reminding himself of the groceries he’d picked up to make dinner, Mal closed down the video footage and worried his lip in thought. Practical, nothing more. Danny needed to eat a ridiculous amount, and the last thing Mal wanted was a fainting spell to interrupt their fun. But then Danny had brought over dinner first.

  Later, he thought, leaving his computer desk and his troubled musings behind. After the heist, he’d reassess. For now he was going to enjoy himself, with the full confidence that the only surprises in store for him would be what he chose to bring to the table himself.