by Staci Hart
He reached for her hand as they pulled onto the interstate, and she gratefully took it.
“Are you ready for this?” he asked.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
The large fire crackled in front of Artemis, lighting her Oceanids’ faces in orange highlights and black shadows, all turned to her.
She rose, looked them over, and smiled. “The hunt is on.”
They cheered, and Artemis found small joy in the rush of the chase as she waited for them to quiet down.
“I have heard the whisperings of your opinions on the competition and my decisions.” She scanned their faces. “This game has not been easy for any of us, myself included. I…” Her throat tightened, and she swallowed to force it open. “I am sorry. Reason has escaped me, and I fear the competition might be lost for my mistakes.”
Murmurs rolled over the nymphs.
“That does not mean I have given up.”
The chatter turned to soft laughter.
“Tonight, we will focus on the chase and the hunt. I have done all that I can to help her, even giving her Rhodes’s location, and now they are on their way to face the end. The rest, my friends, shall work itself out with or without our help. And now, we drink.”
A ruckus ensued; chatter and laughter filled the air as a few nymphs pulled out instruments. They turned to each other, breaking into clusters, but Artemis was alone in her thoughts as she took her seat once more.
There was nothing left to be done but wait. Wait and watch and hope.
She watched the tips of the flames lick at the stars, watched as the embers floated up to the heavens and disappeared. The world went on around her, grinding her down like wheat into dust, scattering her to the wind, and she wondered if she would ever be whole again.
Day 12
JOSIE REACHED FOR JON’S hand resting on his knee, threading her fingers through his. He gently squeezed them as she looked out the window at the road rolling by.
They had been eight hours from Rhodes when they left the bed-and-breakfast but would make it to him in six. Jon drove like the devil was on his tail. But he wasn’t. The devil was at the end of the road.
Her thoughts were consumed by Rhodes, working over scenarios. She’d looked up the motel on her map and familiarized herself with the surroundings, imagining the routes he would take if he left, if he ran, trying not to think about what would happen if he were already gone.
She let herself imagine calling her dad when it was over, all while wondering and worrying over what over would mean when it was all said and done. Captured. Injured. Dead.
She didn’t want to kill him, much more satisfied with the thought of him spending the rest of his life in jail, rotting through a half-life behind bars. Death would be too easy, too simple after all he’d done.
Part of her still wondered what she would do, if faced with the choice. Would she pull the trigger? Would it feel good to watch him die, to know she had stopped him forever?
She pushed the thought away and turned to Jon. “Are you sure we shouldn’t call the local cops?”
He glanced over at her, rubbing her thumb with his. “We can if you want, but they’re going to go busting in there, guns blazing. They could fuck it all up, spook him, alert him, give him time to get away. We really don’t know.”
“It just feels…irresponsible or something.”
He smiled sideways at her. “That’s your cop blood talkin’. Don’t worry; we’ll call them as soon as we get there.”
She nodded. He was so solid and steady and calm next to her. And that was always the thing about Jon. He knew what he wanted and what he needed to do without question, and he did it. He was sure, certain, true. And his certainty seeped into her, affected her, changed her for the better.
The sky grew lighter by shades as they pulled into the motel and parked in front of the office. Josie’s nerves were on fire, her stomach churning, as they spoke to the man behind the counter who told them everything they needed to know. No, Rhodes hadn’t checked out. His car was right over there. And he was in room 205.
They stepped out of the office, and Josie made the call to the local police while Jon watched Rhodes’s door from across the courtyard. And, as they made for the stairs, the door to 205 opened.
Rhodes stood under the fluorescent lights, keys dangling in one hand and a duffel bag in the other. Shock and recognition passed across his face as he froze in front of the half-open door.
The three stood staring for a split second, and when Jon pulled his gun, Rhodes took off running.
Josie drew her gun as they ran after him. He sped down the stairs at the far end of the building and across a patch of parking lot to a chain-link fence that he scaled, landing him in the junkyard backed up to the motel. He disappeared into the maze of scrap metal.
Jon and Josie hurried around the corner to the front of the junkyard. There was no one in sight, everything hushed and still in the moments before dawn.
The owner stepped out of his office. Josie flashed her PI license at him and held her finger to her lips, motioning for him to get out, and he dashed away.
Jon gestured that he was going to take the back route around the stacks of scrap and junk. She nodded, watching as he made his way around, clearing corners until he was out of sight.
“Rhodes,” she yelled, wanting his focus on her and not Jon as her eyes scanned the shadows around her, “the cops are on their way. There’s no use in hiding.” Each step was wary and watchful as she walked between columns of cars on racks with her gun drawn. She cleared every passage, every corner of the jungle of rusted metal, until she found herself in a row that dead-ended into a tall wall of sheet metal.
She shifted the exact distance necessary to train her sight on Rhodes, who stood at the end of the path.
He was a handful of yards away with his gun pointed at her. Her heart drummed in her ears, her finger resting on the trigger. She could pull it and end him right then, right there. And she almost did.
“Where’s your friend?” he called.
She didn’t move, only stared at his eye at the end of her sight. “He’s either around here somewhere, or he’s not. Guess we won’t know till we know. Now, how about you put your gun down, and we have a little talk?”
“Or not.” He unlatched the safety, and in the dim light, she saw that his eyes and body held no fear. They were cold and deadly, and his calm certainty scared her more than the gun in his hand or all the things he’d done.
“You’re just going to shoot me in the middle of a junkyard? That’s not quite your style.” She took a step toward him, matching his calm with her own, however counterfeit it was.
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
She could smell rust and rubber, dust and dirt, hear every breath he took from feet away, see his smug smile. Even in the end, he still didn’t believe he’d be caught, that he would pay.
“No, this is too messy for you, isn’t it? You like it nice and clean. No strings, no loose ends. Not until Hannah. And then Anne.”
“I’m not afraid of a little mess. And if it takes care of you, all the better. I should have killed you sooner. I considered it, did you know?”
“Oh?” Her voice was shockingly brave.
“I’ve been to your place so many times, looking for her necklace. It would have only taken climbing in your window once, and I could have ended you. Then we wouldn’t be here, would we?”
“Hindsight’s twenty-twenty. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. And you could have gone on murdering hookers and teenagers and dumping them in the Hudson. Does it make you feel big and strong to kill them like you do?”
Keep him talking. Wait for Jon. Where is Jon?
“There’s power in holding someone’s life in your hands and squeezing until that life is gone. It’s over so fast, but it’s infinite. I remember each girl, every face. I see them in my dreams.” A perverted, evil smile stretched across his face.
“How did you kill Hannah?” she asked, know
ing he would enjoy enlightening her, wondering if he’d ever spoken about it aloud, needing to distract him for both their sakes.
“She didn’t suspect me, not until I was dragging her inside. She fought almost as much as your friend Anne.”
She stopped breathing. Her finger twitched against the trigger.
“Oh, Anne. She was really pretty, you know? Really. Her being home was an unexpected surprise. Cleanup was a little…undesirable, but you know what they say. Do what you have to do, right?” He was so cool, like he was recalling changing a flat tire instead of murdering her best friend. “I’m sad to kill you this way. I’d much rather it was under different circumstances.”
She swallowed hard. “Who said I’d be the one dying today? Maybe it’ll be you.”
“No,” he said flatly, “I don’t think it will.”
Everything happened at once, but each event was separate in her mind, stretching out, splitting, and coming back together. She heard Rhodes’s gunfire, saw the flash just as she pulled her own trigger. Jon slammed into her, knocking her to the ground, and as the world tilted, she saw her bullet pass through Rhodes’s left eye, watched him crumple to the ground, his blood spilling out around his head in a halo of gore.
She lay stunned on the ground for a moment before she looked down, patting herself for an injury. But then her eyes found Jon, and nothing else mattered.
He had rolled off of her, the crimson bloom on his chest spreading with each heartbeat.
“Oh my God. Oh my God, Jon.” She pulled him into her lap, cradling his head in her arm.
She pressed her hand to his chest, and he laid his on top of hers just as she heard sirens in the distance.
“Sorry I took so long,” he whispered. He broke out coughing.
“Jesus, Jon. Look at me. Look at me.”
His eyes listed, moving slowly to meet hers. “Josie…Jo…I…I love you. I only ever…wanted you. S-sorry. I’m so sorry. So…” His lids fluttered.
“Stay with me, Jon.” Her voice broke, the fire in her throat burning out of control, stinging her nose and eyes. “Stay with me. I love you,” she pleaded, as if the words would save him. “I’ve always loved you. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She brushed his hair back from his gray face, laying her hand on his cheek. “Please, don’t leave me.”
She bent, holding him, rocking him as clarity washed over her. He was all she’d ever wanted, and she’d denied it, denied him for reasons that didn’t matter. Reasons that wouldn’t save him. Reasons that wouldn’t save her. She’d lost countless minutes and hours and weeks of his love, lost time that was finite and fleeting.
The chains and ropes that had bound her snapped and unraveled. She turned her back on her past and looked down into his eyes, touched his ashen skin, and realized too late that there was only one thing that mattered in her life, in the universe. She loved him. She would always love him.
Josie looked like an angel, a fiery angel with eyes that could stop the world from turning, her cheeks pink and wet with her tears.
Don’t cry. He thought he’d said it out loud, but his lips hadn’t moved, wouldn’t move. He wanted to touch her face, but his hands lay still. I love you, he tried to say as she shrank in his vision.
She turned and yelled to someone behind her. Then, she looked back down at him.
And, as she faded away, he said goodbye.
The silence in the theater room was broken by a small sob. Artemis stood, staring at the screen, motionless, as paramedics ran to Jon, pumping his dead heart, laying electric pads on his chest to shock him with a jolt that snapped his back in an arch. Josie stood and backed away with her hands on her mouth, her eyes full of horror, jumping when they shocked him again, and his body thumped against the ground. A gasping sob escaped her.
As the seconds stretched on, Artemis knew what she must do. Winning was irrelevant, the competition irrelevant. She saw Orion as he lay dying in her arms, felt the loss rip through her. And in that moment, her life connected with Josie’s in a way she hadn’t been able to grasp.
She could save Josie from the suffering she would endure from losing him, the pain that Artemis knew so well. She could save Jon from Orion’s fate. She could set everything to rights.
She could close the circle.
Artemis reached into the pouch on her belt and retrieved one of Apollo’s tokens. She crossed the room and handed it to him. “Save him, please.”
Apollo nodded and turned his attention to the screen. He glowed, his lips and eyes illuminated, growing so bright, she shielded her eyes against the light.
The paramedic felt for Jon’s pulse. “I’ve got a heartbeat!” he yelled.
And Josie fell to her knees.
The room let out a collective sigh, and one of the gods let out a whoop, followed by soft chuckles from others.
Dita rushed her, almost knocking her down with an embrace. “Thank you, Artemis. Thank you,” she whispered.
Artemis hugged her back, relieved and exhausted. “It was the only thing to do.”
Dita released her, and the look on her face spoke volumes. They turned to the screen where Jon lay on a stretcher being wheeled toward an ambulance.
A police officer laid a blanket over Josie’s shoulders as she watched them take Jon away. Two detectives made their way to her and pulled out pads and pens to take her statement, and she stood, numb and cold, barely aware as the sun rose behind her, and the sky caught fire alongside her heart.
Day 13
JOSIE SAT NEXT TO Jon’s hospital bed with her hand in his, listening to the machines beep, willing him to wake.
They’d said he was lucky.
He had died for almost a full minute before the paramedics started his heart again, and they’d told her they wouldn’t know if he would be all right until he woke up, if he woke up. They were the words that Josie had had to repeat to Tori, and they had held each other, cried together, not knowing what their futures held.
And then Josie waited. She wished and hoped. She tried not to cry, but when the night fell and the hospital was dark and quiet, her tears fell as she sat next to him, begging him to open his eyes. Wanting to hear her name on his lips. She thought of every word she’d said to him, every mistake she’d made. He’d given so much of himself, and she would do anything, give anything for the chance to make him happy after she’d caused him so much pain.
Her body ached from sitting in the stiff chair she’d pulled up to his hospital bed. Her fingers were wrapped around his as she stroked his arm around the hospital bracelets and IV, but the contact wasn’t enough. She awkwardly climbed into bed with him, not caring about her own comfort, only wanting to be close to him. She slid down on the bed and rested her head in the crook of his shoulder, her abdomen clenching at the thought of the bullet hole in his chest as she listened to the beep of the machine, reminding her that his heart was still beating.
“I don’t know if you can hear me,” she said as hot tears burned the corners of her eyes, “but I need to tell you what I should have said from the start. Not just before today or yesterday, but when you came back. Even before that.”
She took a shaky breath.
“All these years, I have loved you, even when I shouldn’t and even when I wouldn’t admit it to myself. It’s always been you—from the minute I first saw you until now and every moment in between. I love you and I need you and you can’t die. You can’t…” A sob escaped her. “You…you saved more than my life, Jon. You brought me back from the dead and showed me what I had left to lose. You never gave up. You never let me go, even at my worst, and you have to wake up. Please, you have to…you have to be okay because I don’t want to live without you. So please, come back to me. Come back,” she whispered.
Her eyes were pinned shut, her fingers clutching his hospital gown, her heart ripping to shreds as she held on to him like she’d sink if she let go.
“Don’t cry, Josie.” The words were weak and thin, barely a whisper, and she felt his hand in h
er hair.
She sat up, dumbfounded, blinking at him as he smiled up at her, his eyes shining.
“I always knew you still loved me; that’s why I never gave up. Took you long enough to figure it out.”
She laughed and cried as she leaned over him, laying kisses on his lips, his cheeks, “Jon. My God, Jon,” she said in wonder as she held his face. “Nurse,” she called over her shoulder as she fumbled for his call button.
“Jo,” he whispered.
“What?” she answered, concerned.
“Think you could quit gettin’ me shot at?”
“I’ll try,” she said on a laugh, punctuating her promise with a kiss.
The nurse rushed in, and Josie moved out of the way as she checked the machines and helped him take a drink of water. He teased and charmed her, like he did everyone, even after everything he’d been through, and Josie stood stupidly at the foot of his hospital bed with her fingers to her lips, giggling through her tears, marveling at Jon, whole and alive.
Once the nurse left, Josie took her place next to his bed.
He looked up at her with sparkling eyes and reached for her hand. “I have something I wanted to give you.”
“Give me? How?”
“Where’s my bag?”
“It’s right here.”
He jerked his chin toward it. “Go look in the outside pocket for my notebook.”
She sat down in the hospital chair and dug through his bag until she found the blue notebook. She held it up, and he nodded.
“Open it.”
Josie did as she’d been told and looked up at him, astonished when she saw her name at the top of what looked like a letter.
“Read it.”
And so, she did.
Josie,
I’ve written and rewritten this letter a hundred times and fifty ways, but the words have never been right. I’ll never do my heart justice, but know that’s just where these words are from.