by Stacy, S. L.
An instant later, my body lands with a thud on the hardwood floor.
“Why did you have to do that?” demands Victoria.
“I did what I had to,” Farrah insists. “I knew he wouldn’t let her die.”
“Did you?”
“Didn’t you?”
“Guys!” Tanya yells, cutting off Victoria and Farrah’s explosive argument. She’s the only one who seems to have noticed me crawling around on my hands and knees. I hear wailing, and I know in my head it’s coming from me, but I feel dissociated from the girl clawing at the floorboards where the portal vanished, screaming Jasper’s name over and over again.
Tanya bends and tries to pry me from the floor. “He’s gone. Please get up. Come lay down on the couch.”
“It’s for the best—” Victoria starts to assure me, but I bat away the hand she offers me.
“I don’t need your help!” I get shakily to my feet, my roommate hovering beside me. “You couldn’t even tell him I didn’t want anything to do with this! And you,” I breathe, glowering at Farrah. “You set me up. You made me think I was in danger so that I’d call Jasper for help.” A few sharp intakes of breath go up around me as my sisters gape at Farrah.
“It was the only way to get him here,” Farrah replies unapologetically. “It is for the best. You may not see it now, but it is.”
“Go away.” I curl up on the couch and cover my face with a pillow. “I just want to be left alone.”
There’s a pregnant pause before footsteps creak on the stairs. The door to the guest room opens and closes.
“Let me know if you need anything.” Victoria flips off the ceiling lights and then follows the others upstairs.
I’m alone in the dark, sinking into the plush sofa cushions, wanting to disappear. My sobs eventually turn to whimpers, which finally fade altogether as welcome, forgetful sleep overtakes me.
***
I wake up what feels like hours later, my head fuzzy, feeling even more tired than before I lied down. It has to be Monday morning, but when I lift my head, the Quad is dark beyond the blinds on the picture window. Victoria sits on the other olive couch, her feet tucked under her, a book propped open on the arm. Orange and blue plaid pajama pants and sorority letters have replaced her regal white robe. I look at the round face of the clock by the TV: It’s only a little after nine.
“How are you feeling?” Victoria asks me as I sit up a little further.
“Okay, I guess.” I stretch the sleep out of my arms. The pain in my stomach is gone but has moved to my chest: a hollow ache I suspect isn’t from Farrah’s attack or my fall to the floor.
“Look, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t,” I insist.
“No, I need to say this.” Victoria sets her book down on the coffee table and comes to sit next to me. “I’m sorry it had to be this way. Truly, I am. Aphrodite believed strongly you were the only person that could lure Eros to us, but since she couldn’t get you to go along with it…I wish we could say we’d do it differently if we had to do it again, but…” She shrugs helplessly.
“You did what you had to do.”
Victoria looks skeptical. “Are you sure that’s how you feel?”
“I just know I’m ashamed for the way I acted when it was over. I don’t know what’s been going on with me lately. The euphoric highs and the miserable lows. I guess it’s all because of him.”
“It’s not all because of him.” She doesn’t look like she wants to elaborate, but one exasperated glance from me and she explains, “Our emotions run deep. What a human feels, an Olympian feels one thousand-fold, maybe more.”
“Ugh. Isn’t there a way to make them go away? To feel like a normal human again?”
“I’m afraid not.”
I look away from her and try to make out the title on the glossy cover of her abandoned text book, but glare from the lamplight obscures it. I don’t want her, a full-blooded Olympian, to see the hopelessness I know must show in my eyes, to see how badly I don’t want this for myself. But apparently it’s too late. There’s no going back.
“You don’t look anything like your picture,” I tease her to lighten the mood. My eyes shift to the stained glass portrait of Nike in the window, red hair long and tumbling around a heart-shaped face, full cheeks and curvy mouth.
Victoria follows my gaze and smiles, giving a bark of laughter. “I guess I should grow my hair out. And get Botox. Eros got all the good genes.”
“I still can’t believe you’re his sister.”
“Half-sister,” she quickly corrects me. “We have different fathers. Which reminds me of something I need to tell Aphrodite—”
“What do you need to tell me?” Farrah’s—I mean Aphrodite’s, whatever—voice says from the doorway of her room. She emerges wrapped in a pink silk robe, her blonde tresses piled high on her head in a careless bun, and joins us on the sofa. I pull my legs up to my chest and hug my knees.
“I think we’ve been missing something,” Victoria explains. “Now that I’ve realized it, it seems kind of obvious.” Farrah raises her perfect eyebrows. “I started to feel it after—after our fight,” Victoria continues, looking at me. “There’s another force at work here; one that’s turning us against each other. Sure, Eros, Apate and Dolos are mischievous and manipulative, but even combined they can’t stir up this kind of upheaval. It’s only going to get worse. War is here.”
“You think Eros’s father is behind this,” Farrah muses. “But only three portals were opened the day of the escape. Not four.”
Victoria’s mouth is set in a grim line. “And only three crossed over: Eros, Apate and Ares.”
“No one has seen Dolos back home.” Farrah’s voice remains skeptical. “We’ve never come across Ares on our reconnaissance here.”
“We’ve never actually seen Dolos here, either. Because he’s not,” Victoria insists. “He could be dead for all we know. You know Ares better than most. If he doesn’t want us to find him, we won’t.”
“Eric!” I blurt. “I mean, Dr. Mars. My World Myths and Legends professor—Jasper’s dad,” I realize, my heart sinking into my stomach. Anna has run away to Olympus with the god of war.
“Dr. Mars? Cute.” Farrah rolls her eyes. “Looks like he’s been hiding in plain sight.”
“Wait a minute.” Something else has just occurred to me. “If each portal only lets one person through, how is Jasper planning to bring an entire army back to Olympus with him?” Farrah opens her mouth to answer me, but then two voices float down from the second floor landing. Tanya and Carly plod down the stairs.
“How are you doing?” Tanya asks me.
“I’m okay,” I tell them.
“And I’m off to bed.” Farrah gets up from the couch. Tanya and Carly squeeze in next to me. “Goodnight, ladies.”
“’Night!” we call out, our voices staggered. After tonight’s whirlwind events, I’m surprised at how mundane we sound.
Victoria glances nervously past me and starts to rise. “I should turn in, too.”
“It’s not even ten. Stay!” Tanya exclaims.
“Really?” Victoria sits back down.
“Of course!” Carly chimes in.
“I mean, I would understand if you didn’t…you know, if you weren’t comfortable with the whole...”
“What, the lesbian thing?” Tanya interjects. “Why would we care about that?”
“Well, I know how you feel about Samantha.”
“I don’t like Samantha because she’s a huge bitch. You could do so much better than her.”
Victoria gives a hesitant laugh, a pink blush rushing up her neck and cheeks. “Um, thanks?”
“Why would a badass goddess care what a bunch of sorority girls think about her, anyway?” Carly wonders.
“It’s just hard coming from a place where no one cares about that sort of thing to one where it practically defines you, if you let it,” she explains. “I didn’t want it to get in the way of our mission, of your abil
ity to trust and accept me as your leader.” Tanya and Carly seem to consider this for a moment, and then nod in understanding.
“Hold up.” Carly props her elbow on the back of the couch, her caramel curls cascading over her arm as she rests her head in her hand. “If we’re your descendants, that means you used to sleep with men.”
“I guess I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” Victoria’s wry reply has the three of them erupting into uproarious giggles.
Carly’s observation is a sobering reminder for me. “And I’m not one of your descendants. Now that Farrah’s use for me has run out, she’s probably going to ask me to leave.”
“No! Twin,” Tanya cries out.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Victoria assures me. Their unconditional acceptance brings a smile to my face but fails to melt the frozen cage of loneliness reforming around my heart. I’m not a true Gamma Lambda Phi. I’m not human anymore, but my soul sets me apart from my fellow demigods. I still don’t belong anywhere.
We stay up and chat awhile. I welcome the distraction from my bleak thoughts, but around midnight I have to put a hand to my mouth to cover a huge yawn.
“I think it might be time for bed—really, this time,” I say. The others murmur in agreement.
“I guess I do have to get up for Concepts of Math tomorrow. Mondays. Ugh,” groans Carly. I have to get up for World Myths and Legends and face Dr. Mars, who will be down one handsome, charming teaching assistant.
“Sweet dreams,” Victoria bids us upstairs as Tanya and I go into our room, and she and Carly disappear into theirs.
***
And sweet dreams I have.
Sweet, exotic, exhausting dreams.
I dream of him.
Sometimes when I wake up, perspiration beading on my forehead, a fire spreading through my abdomen, I think for a few moments that Eros must have been here, hovering over me in the bed.
Hands gliding over my breasts and torso.
Lips nibbling my throat.
Fingers teasing me between my thighs.
I think I even hear his voice, whispering into my ear.
“I miss you, Siobhan. Let me back in.”
Epilogue
As I wait for Anna underneath one of the umbrella tables outside Starbucks, I take off the cover of my caramel macchiato to vent the steam. After a careful sip I check my phone: It’s five thirty. Anna’s a half an hour late. I cross my arms and recline back in my wobbly chair to do some people watching. Students spill out of the public library across the street, reusable eco-friendly bags swinging at their sides. In the back of the crowd ducks a man’s dark head, and as the group parts his other features come into focus: a pale, handsome face and slightly wavy dark hair. Two menacing midnight blue eyes meet mine—
“Siobhan!”
Anna’s shining face suddenly bobs into my field of vision, obliterating my view of him. She opens her arms to hug me, but when I don’t immediately get to my feet to reciprocate she drops them to her sides.
“Earth to Siobhan.” She waves her hand in front of my face. “What’s wrong?” At last she takes the chair across from mine. It’s too late: I look up and down Hickory Street, but he’s vanished.
“Nothing. I just thought I saw someone I know.” I haven’t gotten the chance to update her on everything that happened last week.
“You look like you saw a ghost.”
“You look like you got some color,” I exclaim to change the subject. Her naturally tan skin looks extra sun-kissed. I jump when she grabs my forearm, her usually calm face lit up with barely contained excitement.
“Eric took me to the most wondrous place!”
I shake off her hand. Her fingers have left white imprints on my already pale arm. “Where’d he take you?” I ask even though I already know.
“To another world,” she whispers eagerly. “To a place more beautiful and brighter than I’ve ever seen, where we ate the most delicious food I’ve ever tasted. We made love on the beach. And he gave me this.” She plucks an amber-colored glass bottle with a rubber eye-dropper cap from her purse and sets it on the table. Even though it’s not labeled, I know exactly what it is.
“All it took was a few drops, and now I sing better than I ever have in my life.” Anna demonstrates by belting out a high, clear note, holding it for a good ten seconds. She doesn’t notice the other patrons’ perturbed glances at us. “And I got the part! I’m going to be Marguerite!”
“Congratulations,” I reply warily, still not used to this new, squealing, hyperactive Anna. “Look, we really, really need to talk.”
“Hold that thought.” She holds up a finger and gets up. “I need to get my caffeine fix.”
“I don’t think you need…anymore caffeine,” I trail off. Anna’s already bounded inside the café. Sighing, I pick up my drink to take another sip, but I stop with the paper rim millimeters from my lips. I stare over it at the tiny bottle of ambrosia, its amber sheen winking at me in the sunlight, beckoning me.
Just so you know: You only need one more dose of ambrosia to become as fully Olympian as you can possibly be. Only one or two drops needed…
Without giving myself the chance to change my mind, I pick up the bottle, unscrew the cap and meticulously squeeze one drop of clear liquid into my coffee, then a second. I stir it furiously and then test the surface with my tongue before kicking back a long, warm gulp. And another. Even though I hate these Olympian mood swings, I hate always feeling like the weak, helpless damsel-in-distress more. I want to be ready next time—if there is a next time.
Afterwards I don’t feel any different, but then again, I didn’t notice the other treatments, either. Anna falls back into her seat and sets a paper cup and lemon poppy seed muffin swathed in plastic wrap on the table. She unwraps it and breaks off a piece.
“So what did you want to talk about?” she asks. “Siobhan. Siobhan!” she barks through a mouthful of muffin, but it’s as though I’m hearing her from far away. “What is with you today?”
I want to answer her, I really do, but I’m too distracted trying to make sense of the deluge of memories overwhelming my mind. In one I’m doing laundry by a frothing river and hear a melodious voice call out to me from one of the tree branches overhead—I’m hearing Eros’s voice, for the first time. In another I study myself in a bronze-framed mirror, but another face stares back at me: a girl with copious waves of white-blonde hair framing creamy skin, sleek cheekbones, a slightly upturned nose but the same large, deep violet eyes. I remember white and pink beaches, crystalline blue waters, glass palaces, fiery sunsets and two pale gray moons swelling against a black velvet sky. I remember him: dark, careless hair, marble white skin, magnificent feathered wings the color of rebirth rather than death, blue eyes shining with love and kindness instead of mischief.
I remember everything.
Sources
All Greek mythology, including the stories of Eros and Psyche, Aphrodite and Ares, and Hades and Persephone came from Wikipedia (www.wikipedia.org). (Somewhere, a librarian is cringing.) For the Greek words used in the Gamma Lambda Phi Guardian Ceremony, I used the New Testament Greek Lexicon, New American Standard (http://www.biblestudytools.com/lexicons/greek/nas/).
About the Author
S. L. Stacy is a PhD student by day, but a paranormal romance writer by night. She loves reading and writing in the young/new adult, paranormal romance, urban fantasy and sci-fi genres. When she’s not writing, Ms. Stacy likes to science, go to zumba and obsess over Once Upon A Time and The Vampire Diaries. Reborn is her debut novel. She knows she left you hanging, but don’t fret: The sequel is coming in 2014. In the meantime, visit her on her blog and Facebook or follow her on Twitter: @sstacy06.
About the Cover Artist
H.N. Sieverding is an author and graphic designer. She has her bachelor’s in art and designs book covers, banners, post cards, ads and book trailers. You can find a few samples of her work here.
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