The Goddess Legacy

by Aimee Carter

  I jerked away from her—an instinct, not because I didn’t want her to touch me. But I was too far gone to apologize, and instead I managed to force out, “Please. I’ll join you in a little while. Just make sure the boys are all right.”

  Wordlessly she nodded, stepping back to give me a moment of privacy. I pressed my lips to Tuck’s cold forehead. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I hope you’ve found your happiness, and I swear to you, I will make sure the boys are all right. And I’ll come visit you as soon as I can.”

  But even if I could get away long enough to hunt her down in the seemingly infinite Underworld, mortals weren’t completely there. They didn’t have a sense of time or place, as they did while they were alive, and even if Tuck recognized me, it wouldn’t be the same.

  Didn’t have much of a choice now, and even half a Tuck was better than no Tuck at all.

  After one more gentle hug, I relinquished Tuck’s body to Iris, who lifted her up and started to walk toward the gates. She would protect Tuck better than I had, and she would see to it that Tuck wasn’t buried in the very place she hated. That was all I could ask for now.

  As soon as they were out of sight, I turned toward the castle. I don’t remember walking up to it—one moment I was in the dirt square, and the next I stood in the great hall, glowing with that same fire. A dozen guards surrounded me, but I brushed them aside, storming up to the earl without an ounce of remorse. If they wanted to protect a murderer, then that was their choice. This was mine.

  “You killed her.” My voice was thunderous even to my ears, and the earl’s face drained of all color.

  “You—you ran away, and she wouldn’t give up your location—”

  I grabbed him around the neck, where the pendant that had started this all hung. That bastard. “You killed your own daughter. Do you know what Hades does to people like you in the Underworld?”

  The earl was shaking too hard to reply, and I tore the pendant from his neck.

  “This doesn’t belong to you,” I said. “And neither does this castle.”

  “Y-you—you can’t—” He gulped. “Are you going to kill me?”

  It was tempting. Very, very tempting. But death would be an escape for him, a way to weasel out of his crimes even if Hades did pass judgment against him. He would never be fully aware of what was going on, never feel the guilt and pain of his actions. And I wasn’t feeling very merciful at the moment.

  “Worse,” I said. “I hereby strip you of your title and all your land and property. You are banished from this place, and rather than kill you, I promise you will live for a very long time. But you will not live here, nor will you live anywhere. I curse you to wander for the rest of your miserable life. You will never stay in one place more than a night, you will hunt only enough to survive, and you will never raise a hand against another innocent again. You are no one, nothing, and you will be forgotten by all who know of you.”

  The earl’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “You can’t do that to me! I’m an earl, appointed by the king himself!”

  “Does it look like I care about your king?” I said. “I am a god, and my word is law. You cannot break it, and it is already done. Now go.”

  I dropped him hard into his chair, and he winced, rubbing the red marks on his neck. They were nothing compared to the marks on Tuck’s. “You think you can come in here and bully me in my own castle?” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “Guards!”

  The guards who had previously surrounded me glanced at each other, confused and still pointing their swords. Instead of focusing on me, however, they all turned toward the former earl.

  “Who are you?” said the head guard. “What business do you have in this court?”

  “What are you talking about?” said the earl, dumbfounded. “I am your lord!”

  I touched the guard’s shoulder. “He is nothing—no one, a confused old man who doesn’t know himself. Send him out of the village and on his way with enough food to get him through the night.”

  “Of course,” said the guard, and while the others surrounded the babbling former earl, I turned and walked out of the hall. It wasn’t much, and it certainly wouldn’t bring Tuck back, but it was all I could give her now.

  * * *

  I met up with Iris and the boys shortly after. My feet felt heavy, and every step was a battle, but I clutched Tuck’s pendant, allowing it to spur me on. By the time I arrived, Sprout and Perry were crying over Tuck’s body, now wrapped neatly in silk that Iris must have created, and Mac had finished digging a grave between two trees.

  “Do you think she’d like it here?” said Sprout, his cheeks stained with tears. I knelt beside him and nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I never meant for this to happen.”

  He hesitated, and just as I was beginning to wonder if he’d hit me, he threw his arms around my neck and hugged me tight. “Don’t be sorry. Iris told us what happened. You did everything you could.”

  I embraced him, and beside us, Perry joined in, as well. He felt even more fragile than usual, and his body radiated heat, but he was alive, and he would be okay. “Thanks for saving me,” he said, resting his head on my shoulder. “I know Tuck would’a been really happy about it, too.”

  “She would have,” I said quietly, and I swallowed. “I won’t always be able to stay with you, but when I can, I’ll be there every second. You’re my family now, and I’ll never let you down again.”

  “We know,” whispered Perry, and the three of us knelt there, simply holding each other.

  At last Mac set his hand on my shoulder, and I released the boys, forcing myself to my feet. “Take care of them,” I said. “And when you’re ready, go back to the village.”

  Mac’s brow furrowed, and though he said nothing, I knew exactly what he was asking.

  “The earl’s gone. You’re in charge now, when you’re ready. I know you’ll be fair to your people, and they deserve a good ruler.”

  His baby face went white, and his mouth opened, but he didn’t say a thing.

  “You listen, and you watch,” I said. “That’s more than most rulers. Always remember who you are and who your people are. Never forget they’re not pawns for your enjoyment. If you do that, you’ll be just fine.”

  He continued to stare at me wordlessly, but I patted him on the back and knelt down beside Tuck. “Come on,” I said, touching her cold hand over the silk. “It’s time to say goodbye.”

  * * *

  Shortly after midnight, Iris and I returned to Olympus. The moment our feet hit the floor, she squeaked and let go of my hand, hurrying off into a hallway. And once my eyes adjusted, I realized why.

  The council was in full session. Perfect.

  “Hermes,” said Zeus dryly. “So glad you could join us as we decide your fate. Please, remain standing.”

  I’d been halfway to my throne when he said that, and I stopped and turned to face the others. They all watched me, some smug, some furious, some indifferent. But none of them looked at me the way Tuck had.

  “Do I get the chance to speak in my own defense?” I said.

  “I hardly see why he should,” said Apollo. “He knew the consequences when he left.”

  And there went all of the goodwill we’d built up in the past day. “Yes, but I know something you don’t,” I said. “I know how to stop everyone from dying.”

  Instantly what few murmurs had been going around the circle stopped. Zeus stood, and even though he tried to hide it, I saw hunger in his gaze. “And how is it you came across this?” he said slowly.

  “That girl you let die—she’s the one I was searching for when I left,” I said. “The Fates guided me to her. I wanted answers, and she’s the one who gave them to me. Not directly, of course, but the things she said…I put them together.”

  Silence. “And?” said Zeus after a long moment.

  “And if I tell you, I want two things.”

  “You will tell us because you are a member of this family
, not because we have bribed you,” he growled. It was the first time I’d heard anything other than a neutral tone from him in ages.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” I said. “Family doesn’t treat their own the way you’ve been treating me since Persephone faded.”

  Across from me, Hades flinched, but I kept going. Couldn’t spare his feelings now, not when it was this important.

  “I made a mistake, a huge one, and I’ve done everything I can to repent. But even though I’m still me, you’ve all treated me like scum ever since, and I’m sick of it. I don’t treat any of you that way—except maybe you, Apollo, but only because I’m jealous of your teeth.”

  No one laughed. I took a breath.

  “Listen. I don’t want any of you to die. I just want to be part of the family again—a real part, not a ‘let’s pretend until we know everything’s fine, then kick him out’ part. I don’t want to be forced to leave you, and I don’t want any harm to come to Iris for helping me. And—that’s about it,” I said, uncertain now that I’d come to the end of my list. “Just treat me better, don’t punish Iris, and we can all figure this thing out together.”

  Zeus stood in silence for the better part of a minute, obviously communicating with the rest of the council silently. I didn’t care. As long as they did the right thing, they could be as petty about getting there as they needed to be.

  At last he cleared his throat. “Very well,” he said slowly. “We accept your bargain and your conditions, but we have one of our own—if your advice does not live up to your promise, you will be immediately banned from the council and stripped of your role as an Olympian and all it entails. Do you understand?”

  I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. Not as if I’d expected anything less from them anyway. “I understand, and I agree. As long as nothing happens to Iris.”

  “Very well, Iris is cleared of all wrongdoing,” said Zeus. “Now, tell us what you’ve learned.”

  This was the hard part. I stood in front of my throne, not yet daring to sit, and I focused on each and every face. No matter how they felt about me, I loved them, and I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to one of them. Even if they’d denied me, I would’ve told them.

  “You’re going to object,” I said. “It’s different, and you’re all going to resist. But before you dismiss it, give it a try, and remember the Fates themselves sent me to her.” I hesitated. “We need to change who we are.”

  A confused murmur echoed through the room, and Zeus raised a hand. Everyone fell silent. “Explain, Hermes.”

  I launched into Tuck’s story—everything she’d gone through and why she’d done it. How she’d adapted. What her real name was, how her self-chosen nickname had been a way for her to recreate herself and become the person she needed to be. How she’d changed who she was and what she’d believed and how she’d acted, all for the sake of her new life. And how much that new life had meant to her.

  “So you’re saying we need to change our names?” said Aphrodite, clutching Ares’s hand. I nodded.

  “But it’s not just that. It’s changing who we are to the world. We depend on mortals, and they depend on us, but they don’t realize that. Most of them are completely unaware. People used to know who we were and what we were doing, and they believed in us. They think we’re myths now though—stories to tell around a fire, not real people. And we need that belief.”

  “Then how do you propose we do that?” said Poseidon.

  “We need to become more than what we are. More than gods and goddesses. More than Olympians. Yet at the same time, we need to become one of them, as well. Live among them, understand them, help them. Stop needing recognition. We need to integrate ourselves and stop being these great deities who are so far above humanity. Yes, we’re immortal, but we feel the same emotions they do. We’re happy, sad, angry, excited—we need to do away with that divide. We need to bleed blood instead of ichor. We need to adapt.”

  “I do not understand,” said Hades quietly. “How would living among them benefit me?”

  “It wouldn’t, not you,” I said. “Your subjects will always be there. They know who you are, at least to an extent. But ours—they believe in other gods now, or only one of us at a time, or whatever the case may be. We need to become those gods. To become these ideas in their minds.” I shook my head. “I know it sounds crazy, but the core of the problem is that they don’t know who we are. And short of exposing ourselves and ruling like kings, we can’t change that. But we can live like—like Rhea.”

  At last a few faces seemed to light up with understanding.

  “She lives among the people. I don’t mean we have to abandon Olympus. We just need to join together with the mortal world and understand it. As long as there are mortals, there will always be love and music and travel, and in order to stay tied to those things as we are now, we must go down to earth and represent them. Everyone we meet will know who we are, even if they don’t know our names, and we’ll ingrain ourselves among them. Bottom line—we cannot hold ourselves above them anymore. We are not better than them, and we must remember that. We depend on them as they depend on us, and it’s time to start acting like it.”

  “We have lost touch,” said Athena, glancing around at the others. “It couldn’t hurt to try.”

  Nearly a minute passed as everyone seemed to absorb this. A few whispered amongst themselves, but it wasn’t until Zeus sank back down into his throne that everyone seemed to relax.

  “We will try,” he said. “Abstract as that is. Do you have any solid suggestions for what we might do to implement these…ideas of yours?”

  “Yes,” I said frankly. “We need to change our names. Right now. We need to cast aside our old identities, and we need to become the people we have to be in order to adapt and survive. The name’s just the start of it, but it’s as good a start as any.”

  No one looked happy about it, not even Hephaestus, who hadn’t exactly won the name lottery. “What sort of names?” said Aphrodite, frowning.

  “I don’t know. Names that will stick around for centuries, though I suspect we can change them again if we have to,” I said. “We’ll do whatever we have to do to survive.”

  “Very well,” said Zeus. “Then why don’t you start us off? What is your new name, son?”

  Son. It may have been a single word to him, but to me, it was a moment of acceptance—a moment when we moved beyond the struggles of the past eons and stepped into a new era where the slate was wiped clean.

  It was exactly the kind of life Tuck wanted. And it was the life I would live when she couldn’t.

  “James,” I said. “My name is James.”

  * * *

  Three years later, we all still existed.

  Couldn’t lie and say it was easy—none of it was going to happen overnight, but to the council’s credit, they each tried. Only Hera kept a Greek name, refusing to budge from the roots she held so dear, though at least we were able to persuade her to change her name to the lesser-known Calliope. Even Zeus found a name powerful enough to satisfy his ego.

  Slowly but surely, the council changed. Instead of deities lording over a world that didn’t know we existed, each of us began to spend time on the surface, interacting with mortals in a way few of us had in millennia. It wasn’t painless—more than a few attempts resulted in varying disasters, mostly revolving around Aphrodite and her new set of mortal conquests. Apparently the world had changed since she’d last waltzed into the middle of a village and announced herself. But soon enough, we all adapted. We all started down the road of becoming the people we needed to be in order to survive.

  In those three years, I visited Mac, Sprout and Perry often, occasionally bringing Iris along with me. The three boys moved into the castle soon enough, and Mac slipped seamlessly into his role as the new earl. He was a kind, fair leader, exactly as I’d hoped, and as time passed, my concern for them lessened. They’d be all right. They already were.

  But
despite that, I could never escape the guilt that surrounded me over Tuck’s death. Even though the boys had long since mourned her, I’d never fully recovered, and that was why it took so long before I finally made the trip I’d been dreading.

  I approached Hades’s throne with my head bowed—partially to show respect, but mostly to avoid looking at Persephone’s empty throne. He hadn’t chosen a name yet, the last of us to do so, but there was no hurry. If he chose to remain Hades, his existence was secure. Even after the last mortal died and the rest of us faded, he would live forever. But if he didn’t fill Persephone’s throne, it would be a very, very long forever. And I didn’t like the reminder of what I’d done to him.

  “Hermes,” he said in a deadened voice, and he paused. “James. Is there a problem with the souls you’ve transported?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Then why are you here?”

  It’d been an unspoken rule between us that I went out of my way to avoid seeing him while doing my duties in the Underworld. Despite a few awkward run-ins, most of the time we managed to keep our distance. “I have a request.”

  Silence hung between us, and at last Hades sighed. “You want to see the girl.”

  “I—” I clamped my mouth shut. Of course he knew. “Yes. I won’t stay long. I just want to make sure she’s doing all right, and I have something to give her—”

  “No.” The word echoed through the throne room, even though he hadn’t spoken above a quiet murmur. “I cannot allow you to see her.”

  I gaped at him. Was he serious? “Why not? You’ve allowed others to visit mortals in the Underworld before. Why can’t I see Tuck?”

  But even as I said it, I knew. This was his revenge for what I’d done with Persephone. All these thousands of years of dancing around each other, pretending to be neutral—now that she was gone, now that he thought I’d played an integral role in stealing her from him, he was stealing Tuck from me. An eye for an eye.

  “You can’t do this,” I said. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “But you have.” He leaned forward, his silver eyes locked on me. “You are the one who wants to see her, not the other way around.”