by Staci Hart
“Is Hank sending Walker and Davis this way?”
“He can’t. The information we have on Rhodes isn’t official evidence, so we’re on our own until we get a sighting on him.”
Jon nodded. “And hopefully your dad won’t kill me for dragging you across the country, chasing a serial rapist.”
“Well, let’s be honest. It’s not like he could have really stopped me. When do you want to stop for rest?”
“If you’re okay to drive, I think we should try to stop tomorrow.”
“You’re going to let me drive?” Her eyebrow inched up.
“Only out of necessity. Don’t get any big ideas.” His smile tilted lazily.
“Will you sleep with one eye open?”
“Why don’t you just assume I will?”
Josie laughed and settled into her seat, noting with a certain amount of surprise that she was enjoying herself. She was relaxed, relieved to be in motion. Some of it was certainly adrenaline from the hunt. The rest of it was Jon. Being around him was easy, just like it had been before.
Before.
It seemed so long ago with the soft sunset painting the sky and promise riding the crisp spring air. And she found she didn’t have a single desire to look back.
With every thump of Pegasus’s wings against the wind and the heave of his body in answer, Artemis found herself closer and closer to memories she only wanted to forget.
They flew over mountains capped with snow and over the lake far below, sparkling and shimmering in the wide valley. Everything seemed so small, but it was only her who had changed her viewpoint.
Artemis leaned forward, laying her cheek against his mane, watching the land pass by beneath her, the wind whipping her hair and her robes as the wind rushed past. And her heart lit fire in her chest as she was reminded of Gaia, the Earth herself, and the day Artemis had lost her love.
It was the day she had lost herself.
The heat was oppressive that day. Artemis’s damp hair stuck to her neck as she and Orion trudged through the woods, laughing and talking with Sirius at their heels.
He held a branch out of her way and waited for her to pass with a bow. “My Lady,” he said with a flourish.
She laughed. “So regal,” she teased as her cheeks burned a degree hotter.
Everything had changed since they kissed.
Their bond was stronger, so strong that Artemis knew it couldn’t be denied, and the notion of naming it, of stating what she knew to be true, was more than she could agree to.
But when she was near him, everything was so simple, so easy, so perfectly right. When they were together, there were no questions, no expectations. She was not Goddess of the Hunt. She was only a woman, and he was only a man.
The truth of the circumstance was that she did have responsibilities, expectations.
Because regardless of what she felt when she was with Orion, she was The Maiden, forever bound to her maidenhood. Her Oceanids were bound to theirs, had sacrificed their futures to be with her. And her father…
She shivered in the blazing heat at the thought of her father’s wrath. If ever she chose to walk away from her vows, she would also betray Zeus’s blessing. Her maidenhood granted her the life she wanted, the freedom she desired above all else.
But walking away from her vows was all she found she wanted, spurring questions that clamored constantly in her mind, demanding answers.
Could she be with Orion? Would he want her, could he love her? Could she give herself to him, body and soul? And what would it mean for all of them if she did?
What had once been black and white melted and mixed and changed, and all the lines and boundaries that had guided her were gone.
But as she walked with Orion that day, as she laid her gaze upon his face, she knew a fact that was beyond all doubt and reason.
She was most assuredly in love.
“How many animals do you think there are in the world?” Orion asked.
“Oh, an unknowable number.” Artemis ducked under a branch and ducked away from her thoughts, grateful for a distraction. “Hundreds of millions at least.”
“Do you think we could kill them all?”
She considered. “Well, I suppose so. It would take centuries, but between the two of us, I am sure we could. If you could only choose one weapon, which would you choose?”
“Hmm,” he said as he stepped over a log. “Bow. Otherwise, how could we kill the creatures who fly?”
“Well, if we are together in this, then I would choose a spear. A bow would be unwieldy underwater,” she mused. “Whatever would we do once they were all dead?”
He smirked at her. “Oh, I am certain we could find something to occupy us.”
She opened her mouth to speak, the flush on her cheeks having nothing to do with the heat, but before she could say a word, the ground beneath their feet rumbled and pitched, knocking them off balance and sending them to their knees as Sirius barked madly.
“Artemis, Daughter of Zeus.” Gaia’s voice came from all directions. A rock face in front of them morphed, and Gaia’s face appeared, her eyes glowing like coals. “My children are sacred, hallowed, protected, and you speak of their slaughter as if it were a game. I will not stand for this. You will do them no harm.”
Artemis picked herself up, her hands in front of her and voice strong and sure. “Gaia, we were only—”
“Silence! You mock me with your games, but you are nothing more than insolent fleas who crawl along my back.” Gaia boomed, and the earth shook again.
Artemis narrowed her eyes. “We have done no wrong, and you are too quick to anger.”
“Who are you, child of Olympus, to judge the mother of all things?”
“I only observe. My father is the one who passes judgment.”
“Your father,” she hissed, “the son of The Usurper, Kronos, does not judge me. None shall judge me. And when Zeus killed the sky, my love, my Uranus, he stole my life,” she wailed. “He stole my heart, stole all I’d held dear, and I am alone, alone.”
“And perhaps that solitude has edged you to madness.”
“You insult me? You threaten that which I have created, child of Olympus. You plot to murder my children, you who are charged with protecting them! You have lost your way, and you must be stopped.”
The ground before them thundered and rose, cracking and crumbling as the surface mounded. A gigantic claw broke from the ground and then another, and out of the earth rose a scorpion the height of three men, its tail the height of six. It hissed and charged, and the air rang with Gaia’s laughter.
Sirius edged back, barking, teeth snapping as Artemis pulled her bow and nocked an arrow, and Orion stood with his spear at the ready. Gaia was powerful enough that even Artemis was not immune. She could be harmed, but worse, Orion could be killed.
Her heart drummed its warning, and there was nothing to do but fight.
The scorpion skittered around, its long legs puncturing the earth, its eyes hard and shining as it loomed over them. And without warning, its tail flew forward, driving into the ground between them. Rocks and dirt flew as it pulled its stinger out, and it hovered over them like the tip of an arrow.
The feather on her arrow brushed her cheek as she loosed, the arrow puncturing one of its beady eyes. The monster let out a shriek, and Orion’s spear slipped into its maw, lodging in its skull.
The scorpion screamed again—the pitch high enough to rattle Artemis’s head—and crushed the spear in its jaw, unswayed, undeterred. Artemis nocked another arrow and drew her bow as quickly as the beast turned on her.
His stinger came down faster than she could move.
Everything slowed, as if time had all but stopped, as she looked up at the point, at her fate, at the end.
And then everything flew sideways as Orion slammed into her. When she hit the ground, the air blew out of her lungs, leaving them burning and empty, her vision dark and bursting with flashes.
She gasped for air, blinking a
way stars, and when she could see him, she knew. And nothing would ever, ever be the same.
Crimson blood pooled in the dust beneath him, spreading with each beat of his heart.
“No!” she screamed, rage crawling up her body, up her neck, over her cheeks. She roared, pulling her longsword as she charged the beast, dodging its legs until she stood in the cool of his shadow.
She jumped with her powers at her back, sword raised, sliding the blade between plates of armor with a crunch.
It screeched and stumbled, and she swung her legs, using her weight to drag the sword and open it up. It began to collapse, and she flung herself off and away, barely escaping its massive body as it slammed to the ground with a quake.
She didn’t hear the groans and whines of the creature as it languished, not with every piece of her focused on Orion.
He was still and gray, his hand limp on his stomach, his blood soaking into the thirsty ground with Sirius whimpering next to him. Artemis called his name as she fell to the ground at his side, her hands on his chest, her eyes searching his face, his body, looking for anything, any way to help him, to fix him. And every question, every doubt was banished. Because nothing mattered, nothing but him.
His eyes were on her as he took a labored breath. “There is…no time. Artemis…please…”
“Wait, please,” she begged, her voice unrecognizable. “Please, let me summon Apollo. He can help you. He can save you.”
She tried to pull away, but he reached for her hand.
“No. Do not leave me.” Another breath, this one more ragged. “Please, I must…I want…”
“Anything,” she breathed. “Anything.”
“Kiss me.”
And she did. She pressed her warm lips to his cool ones, her tears sliding down her cheeks and onto his.
When she broke away, she looked into his eyes, eyes she would love until time ceased and the stars were no more.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“As I love you,” she whispered back.
And then he was gone.
That night, when the moon was high, Artemis brought Orion to the top of the large stone over her favorite pond, her Oceanids circling the boulder, their faces turned up to the stars. He had been cleaned and dressed, the flowers laid in his hair, his face soft and calm, hands still at his sides.
She knelt by his side, unable to speak. She cupped her hands over his heart, her tears unending as her palms filled with light, white and cool, brighter and brighter. And then the light consumed him, separated, splitting, hovering over her palm. One by one, she placed them on the tip of an arrow, aimed at the endless sky, and fired toward the horizon, placing him among the stars forever, at the edge of the world where he could always be seen, where she could never forget him.
The wind rushed against Artemis’s cheek, streaking her tears. For so long, for thousands of years since he had died, she’d been adrift, floating through her life with no anchor. Her love for Orion was left loose and flying, the ends never cut or tied, and she longed for purpose, something in which she could put her faith when everything else was undefined.
Artemis ached for comfort, and her thoughts turned to her mother, who lived at the edge of the lake below her. Leto always made her feel better, no matter the situation, and it had been too long since Artemis saw her.
Her mother would make things seem brighter.
She ran her hand down Pegasus’s neck and pointed to the edge of the great sparkling lake below, and he reared his head in answer and dived for Leto’s home.
The green hills grew larger, the mountains rising up to meet them until they approached her castle.
It was small in the way of castles with small turrets that reached up to the heavens and hatched glass windows. Stone walkways and balconies rounded the house, and Leto stepped out of one, tall and regal, the gold lining of her white robes shimmering in the sunlight. She waved like a queen as Pegasus’s hooves touched the ground.
Artemis dismounted and ran her hand down his jaw. He whinnied before kicking off the ground, his wings stirring up dust in a cloud.
Leto bounded out of the entrance with open arms. “Artemis.”
“Mother.” The warmth of their embrace lightened her heart, earning a sigh that lessened the weight of her burdens.
Leto pulled away, smiling, her cheeks rosy. Her diadem sparkled atop her crown, her long blond hair waving down her back. “I am so pleased to see you; it has been too long. Come inside. Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
Artemis smiled and followed Leto into the kitchen, feeling like a girl as she always did when in her mother’s presence. Of all the places in all the world, it was the only one where she felt safe and free, released from her responsibilities, able to just be.
Leto reached for a block of ambrosia on the shelf and transformed it into a steaming loaf of bread. She sliced a piece off, drizzled honey on it, and placed it on a plate before sliding it across the worn wooden table to Artemis.
“How are you, darling?” Leto asked.
The bread melted in her mouth, the honey thick and sweet against her tongue, and a groan escaped her. “Admittedly better now.”
Leto laughed and propped her head on her hand as she watched her daughter with sparkling blue eyes. “So, all is not well?”
Artemis’s brows furrowed as she swallowed another bite. “I am competing with Aphrodite, and the outcome is…unknown.”
“Ah.” Leto nodded, though she still looked amused. “Competitions with Aphrodite have always nettled you.”
“She and I do not see eye-to-eye.”
“No, you do not. What is the current dilemma?”
Artemis huffed. “I have been cut off at every turn. Every effort has been batted away, and now, my player is in close confines with Aphrodite’s for at least the next few days. My chance, my only chance, was to keep them apart. And my play, my one play, was turned around on me by Aphrodite. She is now at a gross advantage.”
“I see,” Leto said with a nod.
“And I am alone in the competition. Everyone has abandoned me.”
“Everyone?”
“Eleni and Apollo,” Artemis answered, realizing she sounded like a child.
“Hmm. Everyone.” Leto’s eyes were merry, and agitation crawled under Artemis’s skin.
“Apollo took sides, and he did not choose mine.”
“Well, dearest, Aphrodite did just return Daphne to him.”
“Gods, not you, too.” She set her bread down and glared at her mother. “Yes, she returned Daphne—after she tortured him for thousands of years.”
“Granted, but does sacrifice have a time limitation? Is the act any less noble in that it took time to come to fruition?”
“It shows lack of character.”
Leto laid her hand on Artemis’s. “Your brother would never betray you. He only wants what is best for you, as do we all.”
Artemis stood and walked across the room, stopping at the window to look across the open water, listening to the waves lap the shore. “Mother, is it possible to leave your pain behind when you have been through so much?”
Leto followed Artemis and leaned against the wall next to the window, facing her daughter. She tucked a stray hair behind Artemis’s ear. “I do believe this. How could I not? I have lived almost all of my existence surviving one trial after another. I have been chased and hunted. I have had to fight for everything I love, for everything I believe in. If Hera had her way, I would have been dead long ago. Only since we have lived here have I found true peace. And do you know what has guided me through all of that?”
Leto waited until Artemis turned to look into her eyes before continuing“Hope.” Leto smiled. “I look forward, not behind me. I enjoy every moment because I have lived through so many I thought would be my last. You cannot live your life looking back, considering things that you can never change.”
Artemis reached for Leto, who stroked her hair and kissed her cheek. She sque
ezed her eyes shut, feeling lost and reassured, wondering what kind of life she could live if she could only be as brave as her mother.
Because she didn’t know if she had the strength to turn around and look forward, not when everything she loved was behind her.
Day 10
JON LEANED TOWARD HIS open window, welcoming the cold air whipping his skin. It was the closest he could get to a slap in the face.
It was three in the morning, and the road rolled under him, the lines hypnotizing as they disappeared under the Jeep in a steady beat that was almost audible. They had just driven through Chicago, and he was hurting for sleep with heavy limbs and a creaky brain.
He glanced over at Josie.
She lay curled up in her seat with a Mexican blanket over her and her head propped on the window as they bounced down the highway. She had only been asleep a few hours, and he wanted to give her as much time as he could. They’d be no good if at least one of them didn’t get some decent rest.
The worry and stress had been erased from her face as she slept, and she looked like a girl, peaceful and without a care. Emotion welled up in him as he imagined a different world, one where he could touch her hair like he wanted to so badly in that moment, to kiss her rosy cheek, warm from the heater. To pull her into his lap and hold her, protect her.
After the day they’d spent together, he was optimistic about his chances for redemption for the first time in three years. He’d been practically giddy, unable to believe that she was sitting next to him, smiling and open. Accessible. She’d been fighting him for so long that he almost forgot what it was like to make her smile, to see her happy in any form.
He hit a pothole, and the Jeep jolted.
“Fuck,” he said under his breath for not paying attention.
Josie stirred, pulling a deep breath through her nose. She blinked and looked at the clock. “Hey,” she said, her voice rough from sleep.
“Hey, sorry about that. Go back to sleep, Jo.”
“S’okay. I’m up.” She shifted in her seat and stretched her legs and neck as she took another deep breath. “Can we stop for coffee? We can switch places so you can get some rest.”