That would have to change. She’d wanted to adjust to becoming a divine being before she undertook becoming a mother.
The handles on the faucet squeaked when she turned them on and cold water flowed into the porcelain sink. She gave herself one last glance in the mirror before leaning down to splash her face.
A crash outside the door startled her. She spun around, face dripping. “Eris? You okay?”
Silence. A dark sense of foreboding made the hairs on her nape stand on end. She reached for the door, but before her fingers brushed the knob, a dark shape from the In-Between grabbed her hair and dragged her into darkness.
Beau timed his landing from the In-Between to place him in the precise spot to bump into the two juvenile gods sneaking around Ashfall. Deimos bounced off his father’s chest and landed on his ass. Upon seeing that, Phobos tried to run for it, but Beau caught him by the sweatshirt hood and held him in place before he could abandon his twin.
“You two have a lot to explain. Why the fuck are you harassing your mother?”
Deimos blinked up at him. “Harassing?”
Phobos wiggled. Beau tightened his grip enough for the shirt collar to squeeze his neck. “Dad, I can’t breathe.”
“If you’re talking, you’re breathing. Why are you harassing your mother?”
Deimos stood and brushed the snow off his jeans. For a moment he looked ready to bolt, but Luke stepped out of the In-Between and blocked his escape. The boy swore under his breath. “We haven’t done anything, dude.”
Beau stood taller, looming above them. “Dude?”
Deimos shrank back. “Sir, I mean! We did as you ordered and stayed away from her. I mean, we’ve popped in once or twice to look at her, but that’s it.”
“Yeah. It’s not fair that you get to take her on motorcycle rides, when we don’t even get to see what the hell she looks like, Dad. Come on.”
Apprehension twisted in Beau’s gut. He released Phobos and stood back, arms crossed against his chest. “Then you weren’t the ones who petrified her?”
Phobos shook his head. “We don’t wanna scare her, Dad. It was just a couple looks. I swear. Eros and Anteros wanted photos of her, so we snuck over to Ashfall and took a couple candids for them.”
“Boys, something real bad scared her tonight. Are you sure you had nothing to do with it?” Luke asked. “Even accidentally? We can understand an accident. Maybe you were curious. Wanted to see your mother, and you couldn’t control yourselves. I felt something flickering around the edge of the In-Between, and I know how it is when you use your gifts.”
The boys quieted and shuffled their feet.
“Boys?” Beau said, striving for patience.
Deimos dropped his shoulders. “We’ve been hungry with you being away from battle so long. There’s enough natural fear and terror in the Middle East without us, but it’s tasteless and hollow. Since you don’t take us anywhere anymore, we came here to snack. Maybe our powers kind of got away from us. You know it’s hard to control the range sometimes.”
“But we never tried to hurt Mom. Never. That’s why we haven’t operated in Old Ashfall. We stay here in the city.”
Deimos puffed out is chest. “Yeah. It’s diffused here and spread over thousands of people. Makes it easier to control it.”
When Alex stepped into view, both boys turned to him with pleading eyes. “C’mon, Uncle Hephaestus, we didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Were you two peeking in tonight?” he asked.
“No, we swear. We just got here, right before Dad showed up,” Phobos said.
“Yeah. We got a message saying to meet,” added Deimos.
“A message from who?”
Phobos toyed with the edge of his sweatshirt. “Um… well, I thought it was you, Dad.”
Beau frowned. “I didn’t send a message.”
“Figures.” Phobos hunched his shoulders and stared down at his feet. “Should have known it was too good to be true, you wanting to see us.”
Deimos sighed. “Or have anything to do with us.”
Phobos nodded, agreeing with his brother. “Now that Mom is back.”
“What?” he barked, startled by the fury their words riled in him. “What the hell put that nonsense in your heads?”
“You did,” the twins answered.
Beau kneaded his temples with one hand. How long had it been since he’d brought them onto a battlefield or spent quality time with them in Olympus?
Too long. So long it shamed him, and he was the one who couldn’t meet their gazes anymore, because in all his effort to reconnect with their mother, he’d forgotten how much he loved the children they’d made together.
“Boys, I’m sorry. I know that’s not even going to scratch the surface of what I owe you, but I’ll make this up. I was so caught up in getting your mother back for us—for all of us—that I forgot you guys need me.”
Phobos didn’t look up. “We miss her too.”
“I know.”
“Aunt Eris said it would be okay.”
Deimos elbowed his brother. “Shh. Idiot, we weren’t supposed to say anything.”
Phobos grunted. “Too late now.”
“What did I tell you both about keeping secrets from me?”
“Not to do it,” Phobos said, sighing. He licked his lips then glanced around the dimmed alley. “Aunt Eris brought us over the first couple times and taught us the way. Now we’ve been doing it on our own.”
“Told you we can navigate the mortal realm on our own.”
“How long have you two been doing this with your aunt?”
Deimos shrugged. “I dunno. Since November I guess?”
Beau looked to Luke and Alex, seeing the same realization come to them at the same moment.
“Do you really think…?” Luke asked.
“I dunno, but we need to get back to Esme.” Beau turned to his sons. “Boys, you head home right now. I promise, when this is done, I’ll bring your mother over to meet you.”
The twins studied him for a moment. Deimos nodded first. Then he dropped his chin to his chest. “Are you upset at us?”
“No. I’m sorry it came to you guys sneaking around. I haven’t been a good father to you lately, but I swear, we’ll work on it, okay? Now go home.”
Phobos crossed the veil first. His brother followed. Once the twins were gone, Beau, Luke, and Alex returned to the apartment, unable to find any other conspicuous signs of divine essence within the city.
A war zone greeted them.
Luke stared at his home. “What the hell?” The apartment stank of filth and bird droppings. Deep gouges scored the overturned couch and a large crack split the flat-screen television.
“Esme! Eris!” Beau called out.
Luke zipped past them and reappeared. “She’s not in the bedroom.”
“There’s blood in the bathroom.” Alex said.
Beau drove his fist into the wall. “Dammit!”
Luke grabbed his arm and stopped him from making a second hole. “This isn’t gonna help Esme.”
“We have no idea where to find her.”
“Stop and use your brain.” He stuck a dirty feather in Beau’s face. “This is what took Esme.”
“Harpies,” Alex growled.
Which meant there was only one place Esme could be. Harpies only spawned from the Underworld.
21
Darkness surrounded Esme, pressing in from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Luke had once mentioned the amount of care it took to travel with a mortal through the In-Between, and with each second she was there, she understood why.
Something was tearing her apart, pulling and stretching her limbs, pounding her skull and squeezing her flat. Pressure compressed her chest with an unyielding iron band and tore the breath from her lungs before they burst through to the other side. She gasped for air, desperate to survive.
Like her dream, it seemed to stretch forever. But unlike her dream, there was no silence. Beyo
nd the rush of beating wings, low moans and tortured cries filled the air. The sound was muted at first, but the farther they flew the louder the din became, until the cries of the damned drowned out the harpy’s flight.
Esme struggled. Sharp talons dug into both shoulders, introducing her to a world of burning agony. Then she fell. Pain lanced up her right ankle and her leg crumpled, taking her to the rough floor. Tumbling to the ground saved her from a harpy dive-bombing her with its outstretched claws. She rolled and came face-to-face with a skeleton. Esme managed to bite back a scream, but when she scrambled away, she ran into more brittle remains.
As her eyes adjusted to the dim gloom, she saw the ground littered with molted feathers and the corpses of the long dead. A small clutch of eggs sat among piles of straw, shredded clothes, and filthy down. She must have landed in one of their breeding grounds.
The harpy dived again, leaving her no time to contemplate or to even be afraid. The instinct to survive kicked in. She grabbed a rusted blade from the closest corpse and brandished it, but the harpy laughed and struck it from her grip. Claws from another attacker scraped against her back, leaving lines of burning fire.
And then, a shining lance tore through the air and struck the filthy creature from the sky. The body fell at Esme’s feet, and then its flock-mates dispersed in a panic. Stunned, she looked up and saw Eris standing on a low ridge clad in crimson and black armor with a dark spear in her grasp. Esme had never been so relieved.
“Eris, thank you.” Esme held her hand against the deepest scratch on her side. The blood had already begun to clot.
“Thank you for what?”
“For saving me.”
Eris’s laugh raised every hair on Esme’s body. The cold, sharp sound echoed off the dark rocks around them. “Oh, you naive fool. I’m not here to save you.”
“What?”
Eris leapt down and stalked toward her. “You just had to come back, didn’t you? You had to ruin everything.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Ares,” Eris hissed. “With you gone, he and I reveled in the chaos this world seems to enjoy so much. We had our pick of battles. We drowned in blood and victory. But if you come back, if love reigns again in Olympus, all that will be gone. My brother barely notices I exist these days because of you.”
Esme blinked. “You want me dead because you have a lady boner for your brother?”
Eris hissed again and rushed forward with her spear. Esme twisted, avoiding the weapon by a hair’s breadth.
“We were happy with you gone! This world doesn’t need love. It needs to be conquered. Only Ares and I can do that. You make him weak.”
Eris charged again. The spear in her hands morphed, living metal shaping itself to her will from a spear to a sword. She came in with a fury, her face contorted with rage. Weaponless, Esme stumbled back and threw her left arm up in front of her.
The sword glanced off the rose gold cuff with a tremendous clang, sending reverberations of power vibrating through the air around them in sonic ripples.
“That fucking cripple,” Eris growled.
“Don’t call him that.”
“What? Cripple? What about abomination? Hera was right to throw him from the golden city. Too bad he didn’t die that day. We only kept him around to make things for us.”
Screaming, Esme threw a punch at Eris. The war goddess of strife batted it away. Undeterred, Esme rotated her stance and kicked out, but Eris grabbed her foot, twisted, and brought her to the ground.
“Pathetic. What Ares sees in you, I’ll never know.”
Everything hurt, but she pushed the pain aside and got back on her feet.
“You’re as useful as that hideous creature you and Mother claim to love.” She laughed, cold and bitter, all false warmth gone from her voice. “He’s such a—”
Esme feigned another kick with her rear leg, anticipating Eris would see through the move and block it. At the last second, she dove forward into a hard left cross and delivered the same punch that had caught Ares unaware in the gym. Her fist met Eris’s face, all of her weight and power behind the blow, a punch worthy of the god of war himself. Her opponent cried out, startled, and spun out to the ground. She didn’t remain down for long and flipped back to her feet. She spit to the side.
“Luck.”
“I don’t need luck to kick your ass. Who’s the one who can’t even kill an unarmed opponent?” Esme taunted.
Eris’s eyes narrowed. “As I said, pathetic. You cannot goad me, mortal. I am Eris, goddess of strife. Mistress of discord. I know every trick and every deception.”
“Your bloody nose says you didn’t see that trick.”
Eris ignored her. “I sow the seeds of war, and your death will reap the finest battle yet.”
It clicked, understanding dawning over Esme at once. “You want war with the Underworld…” she whispered. It was the only thing that made sense, explaining the hellhound and the harpy.
“If I can’t have what I want, I will take what I can get. With your death, Zeus and Ares will have no choice but to suspect Persephone’s involvement.”
“And the doves? Would you really deny all of Olympus ambrosia just to get at me?”
“Enough talk!” Eris slashed forward with her blade.
Esme bounced back on her feet, defended again with the same cuff. It flashed again, Eris’s sword rebounded off the shield conjured by the magical bracelet, but a second, hidden blade slid past the defense and into her skin.
Agony. The blade burned like fire, sending acid through her veins. A sound echoed through the dark chamber and, at first, Esme didn’t recognize it as her own scream.
The blade slid free. There were shouts. Rapid steps thumping against the ground. The dismal atmosphere spun around Esme and the uneven, rocky ground rushed up to catch her.
Luke appeared at her side and knelt, applying pressure to her wound. Bright, bright blood flooded up beneath his hands. “She needs healing.”
“I tried to fight her.”
“I know, baby.”
Tears swam in her eyes, blurring the arrival of Alex and Beau. The latter swore a stream of words in ancient Greek, familiarity of them skimming the edge of her awareness.
Alex crouched beside her. “We need to get her to the river.”
“She’s too weak to make it to the River Styx even if I carry her,” Luke said. “It might kill her.”
Beau took Luke’s place, putting his strong hands over her wound. “She’s already dying! Find someone who can heal her, fool!”
“N-no. Don’t go. Don’t go,” Esme pleaded.
Everything hurt. The pain was excruciating, like fire in her gut spreading throughout her body and consuming her. She grasped at Luke with one bloody hand.
“Please stay. I’m scared.”
The threat of spending her final moments without any of them terrified her more than dying. Luke dropped to his knees again at her side, and Alex took her other hand, big tears shining against his brown eyes. She hated that. Eyes that pretty, already so sad when she’d first met him, shouldn’t have been filled with tears.
“I l-love all of you. Love you so much. Promise you’ll… you’ll find me again.”
Luke squeezed her hand. “We will, baby. I promise. We’ll wait as long as we have to. I’ll find you myself if I have to.”
“Am I too late?” asked a melodic, feminine voice.
The slap of sandals against concrete echoed as Esme drifted on a cloudy haze of perception in a dimming world slowly losing its colors. Of the three men kneeling over her, Luke was the only one to remain in focus.
“Where did you get this?” Luke asked.
“Later. She’s fading fast,” the woman said. “I felt her leaving and raced here as fast as I could.”
One of the men, she thought it was Alex, pressed something soft and fragrant against her lips, coaxing them to part. A sweet explosion of the juiciest citrus practically melted in her mouth.
Beau’
s hand lifted from her midsection. “Her wound is closing. Give her the rest of the fruit.”
Alex fed her another exquisite slice of orange. It was heaven in her mouth, the single most delicious thing she’d ever tasted in all her life, a sweet and tangy piece of paradise. The darkness faded, giving way to concerned eyes watching her face.
Groaning, Esme tried to sit up, but Luke placed a hand against her chest. “Take it easy.”
Piece by piece, they fed her the ambrosia, until it seemed as if her entire body floated, filled with energy and warmth like she’d never experienced. It surged through her and took all the pain away.
Esme opened her eyes to a changed view. The once darkened world around them shone with color, opalescent hues shimmering against the rock. But the beauty paled in comparison to the faces looking down at her.
Beau, Luke, and Alex all seemed to glow from within, as radiant as she remembered.
She remembered. Memories too numerous to count flooded her in an overwhelming rush, but she viewed them from a distance, like watching a documentary rather than feeling them herself. She witnessed every tender moment, every fight, and every petty squabble. And she watched countless mortal years of self-inflicted loneliness.
“Esme?” Alex cupped her cheek. “How do you feel?”
“Different… The same…” She sat up and cradled her head in both hands. “What happened?”
“Eris stabbed you.” Beau bowed his head, both fists clenched against the floor.
“Hey, no, none of that.” She reached out and tipped his face back up again. “You can’t blame yourself for your sister’s actions.”
“I should have seen it sooner. Esme, we almost lost you.”
“But you didn’t. I’m here. I’m back.”
“And immortal once more,” said the female stranger.
Esme turned. While she’d never laid eyes on the woman during her mortal lifetime, she recognized Persephone. The goddess hadn’t changed, not since the last time she saw her so many centuries ago.
“You did this? Why?”
“Because it was the right thing to do. I’ve had this last piece of ambrosia saved away. Of course, I never thought I’d be using it to bring you back.”
Divine Ambrosia Page 22