The Gods' Day to Die

by David Welch

  Ares’ mind spun as he walked arm in arm with his wife, and she recognized his deep-in-thought look.

  “What’re you pondering?” she asked.

  “Hmm?” he said, a bit startled. “Oh, just ’bout what you said in the cave.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I wondered when you’d get around to that.”

  “It almost sounded like you really think somebody was looking out for us,” he said.

  “I don’t know what I think right now. But I meant what I said.”

  She looked pensive as they walked on in silence a few steps more. She stopped by a large rock outcrop.

  “Ari, you really think you saw Him, don’t you?” she asked.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I hit my head pretty hard, Dita,” he said tentatively. “And I was out for a while.”

  He started walking again, noticing how close Artemis and Desmond were getting. He wanted a few more minutes of privacy.

  “So, are you going to tell me about it? What you saw, or think you saw?” she pushed.

  “No,” he said. “Part of me wants to. Part of me thinks if I do, you might find it miraculous and it will open a pathway to God and salvation and all that.”

  “You really think a miracle that happened only in your head is going to make me see the light?” she asked.

  He chuckled and shook his head. “No, I suppose not. If two thousand years of urging won’t do it, I don’t think a miracle that may or may not have even happened will do the trick. Heck, maybe that’s the way it should be. I found my own way to God. If the day comes you ever believe in Him, it’ll be different than how I did it. Unique, even.”

  “You’re starting to sound like Apollo,” she grinned.

  Ares chuckled. “Am not. My voice is much lower than his was.”

  Now she chuckled. “You know, he didn’t get me to follow him into any of his metaphysical adventures the whole time we were married. What makes you so confident?”

  “I have faith.”

  “So did he, in many things,” she countered.

  “Yes, but how often was his faith rewarded?” he said. “Nobody is hunting us. Athena’s alive. Artemis has a new man. Mom and Dad will be able to go back to Meli and Bane and give them the childhood they deserve. Doc Jedrick can fulfill our oldest dream. I’m going to be a great-great-grandfather again . . .”

  “What?”

  “I’ll tell you about it later,” said Ares with a wave. “Point is, I see all this and I know He’s watching over us.”

  “Well, on the off chance that you’re right, thank him for me,” Aphrodite said.

  He paused, a million-dollar smile coming across his face. With a quick jerk he swept Aphrodite off her feet and into his arms.

  “I will. And I thank Him for you every day,” he declared. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve had enough heavy stuff for one day.”

  “Oh?” she asked, her jubilant smile matching his own.

  “Yes. I think we should spend the rest of the day making love and dreaming up our grand new home in Hawaii,” he said, kissing her fiercely.

  She broke the kiss.

  “I like Kauai,” she said. “Something with an ocean view?”

  “Damn right,” he said with a smile. “An ocean view, and easily defensible fields of fire.”

  She rolled her eyes, and kissed him again.

  North of Carev Vrv, Macedonia

  Zeus pulled the SUV to a stop. He’d been driving for a half hour, working his way up rutted dirt roads on the next ridge north of Carev Vrv. It wasn’t so much a road as a track in the grass of the alpine tundra, but the SUV had managed it well enough.

  He got out of the vehicle and walked around to the back. There Duscha sat, gagged, blindfolded, and bound. Zeus pulled open the door and ripped her out of the seat.

  “On your feet,” he said tersely. The drugs had mostly left her system by this point, but the fear hadn’t. She trembled visibly as he pushed her along in front of him.

  Around him was tundra, a field of grass-like sedges stretching down the crest of the ridgeline. He stood at the top of the ridge, under a cloudless blue sky. He pulled a knife from his belt and cut the ropes from her wrists. He undid the gag next, then the blindfold. He pushed her forward roughly. She stumbled and fell, still a little woozy. When she got back to her feet, Zeus had his pistol in hand, pointed straight at her. She froze.

  “You’re going to kill me?” she asked meekly in Russian.

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “To tell you the truth, I’m not feeling completely satisfied with my revenge. I kinda wanted your father to myself. Hestia, Apollo, Hermes, Dionysus, Keilana . . . not something a man forgets.”

  “My father’s dead,” she said. It wasn’t a question, it was a confirmation. He imagined her mind had been pretty hazy when they’d mowed Lenka down.

  “Yes, along with all of the muscle he brought to kill us,” Zeus said. “Now that I think about it, him bringing all those mercs to kill me and my entire family . . .”

  “Please,” she begged, “I was tied up. I didn’t have anything to—”

  “Stop talking!” Zeus barked. “See, here’s my problem. I’m thinking I’ll feel a little more satisfied if I gun you down where you stand. But my boy has this whole thing about us not being murderers, not anymore at least. And it was his strategy that won the day, so I’m inclined to honor his wishes.”

  A faint ray of hope came to her face.

  “So listen carefully, girl,” he said. “You will not pick up your father’s vendetta. Do you understand me? If I suspect for a second that you’re trying to find us, I will hunt you down and kill you the way I wanted to kill your father—with my hands around your scrawny neck!”

  Duscha flinched back, but made no further move. The gun remained pointed at her heart.

  “And there will be no hiding,” Zeus said. “Not anymore. You see, a certain doctor has found a way to make us mortal. Which means I’ve only got one lifetime left to live. If I had a thousand years, hiding for thirty or forty would be no big deal. But if I’ve only got sixty left? No. I can’t afford to waste even a day. So if you try to come after us or try to take revenge for your psychopath father, you will find all of us on your doorstep with guns in our hands. Do you understand?”

  Duscha nodded meekly.

  “Say it,” Zeus seethed.

  “I understand,” she said.

  “More,” Zeus pushed.

  “I—I won’t come after you . . .”

  Zeus stared daggers at the girl.

  “Unfortunately, I can’t trust a word you say,” he said.

  “I won’t! I swear—”

  “And Ares has been far too forgiving of late,” Zeus grumbled.

  “Please don’t—”

  “Stop talking!” Zeus repeated, waving the gun at her for emphasis. The girl swallowed nervously, her face covered in terror-sweat. Zeus rubbed at his jaw with his free hand.

  “Take off your shoes,” he said.

  She cocked her head quizzically. He made no response. After a moment she started fumbling with her shoes.

  “And your socks,” he said. “Toss them to me.”

  She pulled off her socks, tossing them and the shoes to him. They landed in a jumbled pile at his feet.

  “I’ve decided to split the difference,” he said. “You have a fifteen-second head start, then I come after you. Escape, and you get to live long enough to reconsider all the awful life choices you’ve made.”

  She stood frozen, expecting him to say something more.

  “One . . .” he said.

  Duscha bolted, tearing down the open slope of the ridge. For a young woman still a little under the influence, she made remarkable time. Zeus counted until she was out of earshot, stopping at around five. He watched her disappear into the forest. The sna
p of twigs, muted and distant, told him she was still running. So did the occasional cries of pain as her bare feet discovered the forest floor.

  Zeus fired randomly toward the forest, aiming at nothing. The shots missed by a wide margin, but kept the girl running. He waited a few minutes to make sure she didn’t try to double back or do anything sneaky, then lumbered back to the SUV.

  “Des, I need to ask you something,” Artemis said, the words remarkably hesitant for her.

  They were in the last few yards of forest, approaching the SUV that Ares had parked off the side of the valley road. Zeus had the other, and was still off releasing Duscha back into the wild.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “When we were in L.A., you asked me if having only one lifetime left to live, I would live it with you?” she said.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I remember liking your answer.”

  She smiled, but continued speaking softly. “I never asked if you, having only one lifetime, wanted to spend it with me.”

  He stopped in his tracks and pulled her into his arms.

  “And here I thought I’d left no doubt as to my feelings,” he said.

  “I know you love me,” she said. “But I arrogantly assumed you wanted to get married and do all those things.”

  “So I’m the lucky mortal fortunate enough to grace the bed of the moon goddess herself?” he said sarcastically.

  “Stop it,” she said, smacking his shoulder. “I’m serious.”

  He laughed and pulled her tight.

  “Of course I want you to stay with me,” he said. “Hell, I plan to outlive you so that you don’t have to die alone!”

  She relaxed in his arms.

  “You joke about it,” she said. “But I don’t know . . .”

  “Don’t know what?” he said, releasing her.

  “Des, I haven’t lived expecting that I would die since I was seventeen,” she said. “I barely remember it. For the first time in centuries, I feel like I’m in the dark. I have no idea how someone like you can go through life like . . . like—”

  “Like there’s a ticking clock?” Des said.

  “Yes,” she said. “Right now I know I’m immortal. And I’ve gone nearly six thousand years without being murdered or killed by some freak accident. My mind expects to be here. I don’t know how to deal with . . . with death.”

  “Well, I don’t rightly know either,” said Des. “I haven’t actually died yet, so I’m kind of as much in the dark as you.”

  She sighed heavily.

  “Look, Arty,” he went on. “Day to day, we pretty much act as if we’re immortal. You think life’s gonna change all that much knowing death is hanging over you? It isn’t.”

  “And aging?” she said. “Are you willing to deal with a woman who’s aging for the first time in five thousand years?”

  “Well, any mortal woman I might have ended up with would be aging alongside me, so yes. I think I can manage,” he said.

  “I hope so,” she said. He got the distinct feeling the words were more to reassure herself than him.

  They walked out of the woods, approaching the SUV. Ares and Aphrodite were helping Hera load their bags into the back. Artemis paused at the door, a contemplative look coming to her face.

  “Something else?” Des asked.

  “No,” she said wistfully. “But I realized you might be the last man I fall in love with.”

  “Well, don’t make it sound like a funeral,” Des said. “We’re just getting started. I get that you’ve been around in your years, but this is all pretty new and awesome to me.”

  “New and awesome?” she said through a smile.

  “Yes. And I suppose I should ask whether you are up to spending your life with a man who has never done this before. What with all your experience and all.”

  He expected her to give him a wry grin and match his sarcasm word for word. Instead she just kept smiling.

  “But I haven’t done this before either,” she said. “I told you once: I’ve never been in love with you before. I want to see where this goes as much as you.”

  Des felt pretty certain that his heart was about to explode out of his chest. Before he knew what was happening, he had her in his arms, her mouth pressed to his.

  A head poked around the car.

  “You guys want the backseat for a while?” asked Ares. “’Cause we can make ourselves scarce—”

  Artemis leapt out of Desmond’s arms and tore after her brother.

  EPILOGUE

  Grand Lake, Colorado

  Three and a Half Years Later

  Desmond marveled at the fact that even though it was two days from Christmas, that didn’t stop Bane from cannonballing off the diving board and into the pool. Of course, it helped that the pool was heated to a pleasant eighty-five degrees. Even the concrete deck tiles were heated. It all made for a strange sight. All around the pool were two and a half feet of dry Colorado snow, fresh and sparkly and ideal for Christmas card photos. But the pool, and the ground immediately around it, were bare. Mist clung to it as warm water evaporated and met the cold air above.

  Artemis had installed the pool, and the nearby Jacuzzi, shortly after returning from Los Angeles. She had determined that if she only had one life left, she was going to live it to the fullest. And it wasn’t like they didn’t have the money to do so.

  Meli darted up to the diving board, shivering a little as she ran through the fifty-degree air around the pool. She had a different philosophy when it came to the diving board. She ran its length as fast as she could and leapt out as far as possible, making it nearly halfway across the deep end before she plunged into the water.

  Far enough out to splash her Aunt Dita where she lay on one of those inflatable chaise lounges. She wasn’t so much into diving boards at the moment, given that her stomach was swollen and huge. She was seven months into her pregnancy, carrying twins. Aside from her stomach, her body hadn’t changed terribly. Her ankles were a little bit puffy, but otherwise she didn’t look much different. It made Desmond think that pregnant women the world over would hate her if they saw her. Seriously, how many seven-months-pregnant-with-twins women could rock a bikini?

  “Meli, careful!” she chastised halfheartedly as the girl surfaced.

  The girl’s face turned red for the briefest of moments, but then excitement gripped her and she swam for the ladder. Bane was already back to the diving board and climbing for his next jump.

  The commotion caused Hera to look up from her book. She perched in a more terrestrial, standard-issue department-store chaise, right between the pool and the Jacuzzi, the warmest spot. Unlike Aphrodite, she wore a more conservative one-piece, with a robe thrown around her shoulders. Like Aphrodite, she too was pregnant, barely into her second trimester. A small bulge in the purple fabric of the suit was the only indication that Meli and Bane would soon have a new sibling.

  Zeus loitered in the hot tub, pretty much oblivious to it all. He had a beer in one hand, and an empty bottle bobbed up and down in the water nearby. Des couldn’t help but notice he looked a lot like Dionysus in this pose. He clearly had no problem with the controlled chaos of his children.

  Des turned from the window, moving back through the great room. Zeus has the right idea, he thought as he sipped his own beer. Nearby, on a couch beneath the mounted antlers of Artemis’ latest kill, Ares tapped away on a computer.

  “Your wife’s out there in a bikini and you’re inside on a computer?” Des said. “You’re not looking at porn, are you?”

  “Funny,” he remarked. “Come look at this.”

  Des made his way over. Ares turned the screen so he could see. Des frowned. On the screen was a picture of Duscha Sidorov, dressed in a black gown. It was a news article, the text written in a Cyrillic-looking script.

  “What does it say?” he asked. />
  “It says she’s a nun,” Ares replied.

  “A nun?” Des said. “I guess you were right about her.”

  “It wasn’t me who was right,” he said. “I wanted to kill her.”

  “But you were the one who wanted to let her go,” Des countered.

  “Higher orders,” he said. “From somebody I’ve never known to be wrong.”

  “Okay,” Des said, not wanting to press the issue. “Why exactly are they writing news articles about nuns in Macedonia?”

  “Apparently she turned around an orphanage they run,” Ares said. “It says ‘when I arrived here I was a broken woman. Starving, with nobody to turn to. I didn’t even have shoes! These women took me in and showed me a new way to live . . .’”

  Des frowned.

  “Forgive me if I’m not entirely convinced,” he said. “How did you find this, anyway?”

  “I’ve web-searched her name once a week for almost three years,” Ares said. “This is the first time something has come up. I’m actually pleasantly surprised.”

  “Well, whether she’s ‘reformed’ or not, at least we know where she is,” Des noted.

  Ares nodded. Des moved away, toward the front of the house. A car was pulling into the driveway. He watched as it stopped. Artemis and Athena climbed out, several bags of groceries in hand. Athena had healed from her ordeal, physically at least. The scars and burns were long gone. Her fingers had grown back, though that had taken nearly two years. But Desmond wondered if she’d ever really get over the psychological scars of what had happened. Her own son, slaughtering her family in front of her, torturing her in the most awful ways imaginable . . . He doubted if he would ever get over something like that, much less forgive. When they’d gone to Los Angeles to undergo Jedrick’s procedure, she had been almost eager to become mortal. She’d seemed overwhelmed when the doc had mentioned that nobody had to get the treatment, that they could go on living as always. Des half suspected that if she hadn’t been made mortal, she might have taken her own life, rather than live on indefinitely with the pain of what had happened.