Goddess Interrupted

by Aimee Carter

  “The council ruled I could be born?”

  “Yes,” she said, separating my hair into three sections before she began to braid it. “I’ve told you this before, love.

  Henry decided he wanted to give up, and I didn’t want him to, so instead of going out and f inding another girl—”

  “You decided to make one.” I swallowed hard, and tears stung my eyes. “That’s all you told me. You didn’t say that the only reason I existed was because you all sat around and debated it.” I stared up at the ceiling, trying in vain to contain the swell of anguish that f illed me. “All I was ever supposed to be was Henry’s wife, and you knew—you knew he’s always going to be in love with Persephone. You knew he would never feel the same way about me, and you did it anyway.”

  She wrapped her arms around me from behind. “Kate…” I glared at my hands, refusing to hug her back. She could deny it or rationalize it all she wanted, but that wouldn’t change what had happened.

  “Yes,” she f inally said. “That was why you were born.

  All of us come into this world for a reason, whether it’s love or a purpose or even as an accident. You were no accident, and I have loved you from the moment I knew you would exist. Even if it hadn’t been then, you would have been born eventually. I’d wanted another child for a long time, and I put it off. Because I was ashamed, I made myself think I didn’t deserve another. I thought I didn’t deserve you.”

  “Why?” I said, hiccupping. “What were you ashamed of ? Persephone?”

  “Partially,” said my mother. “I was ashamed of how little she cared for Henry’s well-being and how self ishly she had acted. I was never ashamed of her,” she added. “She is my daughter, just as you are, and nothing could ever make me love either of you any less.”

  I sniffed. “But she was miserable with him. It isn’t her fault that he fell in love with her or that she fell in love with someone else. You can’t force two people together and make them live happily ever after. It doesn’t work that way.” She shifted on the bed so she was beside me. “Is that how you feel? Like I forced you to be with Henry?” I shook my head, then nodded, then shook my head again. “I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I didn’t have a choice to meet him though.”

  “But you did have a choice whether or not to be with him,” she said gently. “He waited for you, but if you didn’t love him, if you didn’t want to do this, none of us would have forced you.”

  “It feels like you did,” I whispered dejectedly. “Without this, I’m not anyone. I didn’t have time to—to f igure out who I was, and now I don’t know how to do that and still be who you want me to be.”

  She sighed and hugged me a little tighter. “The only person I want you to be is yourself. You aren’t Persephone’s replacement. You are my daughter, and I’m so proud of you. Nothing will ever change that. You are my light, and if I hadn’t thought you could be unbelievably happy with Henry, I would have never allowed this to happen.”

  “It doesn’t matter how happy I am with him. That doesn’t change how he feels about Persephone.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” she admitted, “but it will. Henry’s been stuck for a very long time, and the history we all have together—he won’t get over her immediately. But the thing you have to understand is that before now, he didn’t have a reason to try. Now he has you.”

  I hiccupped again. “Do you really think I can match up to her?”

  She nuzzled the top of my head. “If I’d had you all those years ago, when Henry was still unmarried, you would have been the one I’d have offered him, not Persephone.” I gave her a bewildered look, and she chuckled.

  “Oh, sweetheart. The idea of a woman choosing who she marries is brand-new. When it comes down to it, Persephone had thousands of years with him, but you know what?

  You’ll have now until forever, if that’s what you want.” She paused. “Is it?”

  “I want it to be,” I said softly. “Really, really badly.”

  “Then give yourself time to let it happen. Being with Henry doesn’t mean you have to give up who you are.

  Henry doesn’t def ine you, nor does the Underworld or immortality. You def ine you, and the more you act like yourself, the more Henry will love you, too. I guarantee it.”

  I wanted to believe her, and as I closed my eyes again, I decided that for now, I would. Persephone had Adonis to return to, and she wouldn’t be here forever. Maybe seeing her would even be good for Henry; it could give him a chance to remember that she wasn’t the girl in his ref lection who was happy to see him every September.

  I could be that girl though. I wanted to be.

  I didn’t say anything else as I curled against my mother.

  She continued to rub my back, and the tension seeped out of me as the minutes passed. She was still here, and a world where my mother was alive and healthy couldn’t possibly be that bad.

  A knock on the door startled me, and I sat up and wiped my puffy eyes. “Yeah?” I said, and the door cracked open.

  “Kate?”

  Henry. I exchanged a look with my mother, and she smiled encouragingly.

  “Come—come in,” I said.

  He stepped inside and closed the door. He was clean now, and somehow he’d changed clothes without coming into the bedroom. Was there another closet in the palace if he decided he didn’t want to stay with me? And who had helped him clean the blood off his pale skin like I had done so many weeks before? I didn’t have to think about that too hard to come up with the answer.

  “Walter is requesting you,” said Henry, and when my mother stood, he shook his head. “Not you, Diana. Kate.” There was something off about the way he said my name, but I pushed it aside. Whatever it was, it undoubtedly had something to do with Persephone, and the more I thought about her, the more everything hurt. After the journey through the Underworld, I wanted a single afternoon where I didn’t have to feel second-best. I was willing to wait for Henry like he’d waited for me, but that didn’t mean the time in between now and when he was ready to love me would be painless.

  Confused, I climbed off the bed and excused myself to the bathroom. My skin was rubbed raw everywhere it’d been exposed to the fog, and now that I’d calmed down, I had to move gingerly if I didn’t want to wince. Under normal circumstances I would have changed out of my pajamas to see the King of the Gods, but today was anything but normal, and this was supposed to be my home now. If I wanted to wander around in pajamas, I would. Besides, anything else would have made the pain worse.

  I made an effort not to think about what Walter wanted while I gently washed my face. To reprimand me, I was sure, but there was no use in worrying about it until I was standing in front of him. Henry wouldn’t let him banish me from the Underworld. I hoped. And if he did—well, at least I’d know for sure Henry didn’t want me anymore.

  I heard my mother speaking quietly on the other side of the door, but when I stepped out of the bathroom, she immediately fell silent. “What?” I said, and she shook her head.

  “Nothing, sweetheart. I’ll see you in a bit.” I would’ve had to be blind to miss the exasperated look she gave Henry, but I said nothing as he led me out of the room and into the hallway.

  “Are you feeling all right?” he said, clasping his hands behind his back. Gathering what determination I had left, I slipped my hand into his arm and refused to let go when he tensed. One day he wouldn’t, and until then, he had to get used to me being there.

  “I’ve had better months,” I said, a weak attempt at a joke.

  He didn’t smile. “Did Theo heal you?”

  He nodded. “I fetched the others a short while ago. I will send Theo to our room once Walter has f inished with you.”

  That sounded ominous. “Is he mad?”

  “No,” said Henry. “He is not.”

  Something was still off, and I hugged his arm, pleased when he didn’t move away. “Are you?”

  This time his face remained blank. Of course he was angry. If w
hat my mother had said was true, then he’d spent six months f ighting like hell to keep me safe, and on top of failing when it’d mattered the most, I’d run after a Titan less than a day after arriving in the Underworld. Not exactly the smartest thing I’d ever done, but I hadn’t had a choice. Surely Henry understood that.

  “I won’t say I’m sorry,” I said. “Not for going after you and my mother. But I am sorry for scaring you, and I’m sorry for not listening to James and staying out of the cavern.”

  He unclasped his hands and took mine. He didn’t hold on tightly, but it was more than I expected, and hope f luttered inside of me. “Do not apologize,” he said. “I am aware we left you and the others with no choice. I am the one who should apologize for having put you in that situation to begin with.”

  So he was blaming himself. Somehow that didn’t feel much better than him blaming me. “It wasn’t your fault though. You had no idea what Calliope and Cronus were planning, and you did your best with what you had.”

  “Yes,” he said softly, “I suppose we did. That makes what Walter and I are about to ask of you even more foolish.” We stopped in front of a nondescript door, and I frowned.

  “What do you mean?”

  Henry let go of my hand to set his on the doorknob, but he didn’t turn it yet. “I will be with you the entire time,” he said. “Nothing will happen to you.”

  My heart f luttered, and I racked my brain for what he and Walter might want me to do that would scare Henry like this. Of course nothing would happen to me. Unless Cronus was inside.

  As he opened the door, I realized what he meant, and all the tension that had left me earlier f looded back. I stopped cold, and he draped his arm around my shoulders protectively.

  With her face bloodied and marked by the chain I’d used against her, Calliope stared at me, her eyes narrowed and unblinking.

  She was awake.

  CH APTER FOURTEEN

  IN T ER ROGATION

  The burning hatred in Calliope’s eyes made every bone in my body freeze in place, as if she’d turned me to stone. I wasn’t afraid of her, not really, but anyone with an ounce of self-preservation would have stopped short when facing that kind of loathing.

  Walter stood beside her, his hands on her shoulders, but it didn’t look like a protective gesture. She sat in a chair made of steel, and shimmering bands around her wrists and ankles held her in place. In the corner, Phillip silently faced her with his arms crossed over his broad chest, and there was a deep silver scar running through his left eye. It had turned milky-white.

  “Kate,” said Walter with a nod.

  “Hi,” I said, wishing my voice wasn’t shaking so much.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m afraid we had no choice.” He tightened his grip on Calliope’s shoulders, and her jaw clenched. “It seems Calliope refuses to talk to anyone but you.”

  My heart sank. I glanced at Henry to conf irm it, and he nodded stiff ly. “That—that’s f ine,” I said, even though it was anything but, and I took a deep breath to steady myself.

  Obviously this was important. “Whatever you need.” A cushioned chair appeared a few feet in front of Calliope, and Henry let go of me so I could sit down. I f idgeted, certain that if it were in Calliope’s power, she would have made me burst into f lames right then and there.

  “All right, Calliope,” said Walter. “She is here as you asked. Tell us what we want to know.”

  His voice seemed to echo in the plain room, as if he were really dozens of people talking at once. It was nothing like the same kind of tone Calliope had used in the cavern. If Walter wanted to, I was positive he could destroy the world with a single thought. No wonder he’d been appointed the head of the council.

  Calliope remained silent, and Walter sighed. It was the sound a father made when his child was giving him the silent treatment, not the kind of sigh an interrogator made when his subject clammed up. For all his power, Walter would not use it against her, I was sure of it. She was family.

  I didn’t know if I was all right with that or not. Walter had done terrible things to her, unintentionally or not, and he’d put her through hell. But like James had insisted, it didn’t excuse her for all she’d done, and Walter had an obligation to ensure that none of it happened again. We all did.

  “Please talk to us,” I said, relieved when my voice stayed steady. “Whatever happened with Cronus, it’s over now, and Walter and Phillip and Henry—they’re not going to hurt you.”

  I could feel Henry tense behind me. If he had his way, she’d be a pile of ashes by now.

  A slow smile spread across Calliope’s face, and her eyes glinted with malice. “You think this is over? Henry opened seven of the bars. It was only a matter of time before Cronus broke out completely anyway, but now he will be out by the winter solstice. When he’s free, he will come for me, and he will destroy all of you for holding him captive.” No one told Calliope she was wrong. The three brothers all watched us, and not one of them bothered to tell her that the council would contain Cronus.

  It was because they couldn’t. Cronus would escape anyway, and there was nothing they could do to stop it. Because of me, Cronus would do exactly what he wanted, and without Calliope, the council was powerless to stop him.

  As brave as I wanted to appear, all of the blood drained from my face, and I clenched my hands together in my lap.

  Henry rubbed the back of my neck, but I felt no relief from his touch. All of it had been for nothing.

  “Calliope,” said Walter gently. “You know what will happen not only to us, but to the entire world. Cronus will reclaim it as his, and there will be no one left to protect humanity.”

  Calliope sniffed, but she said nothing.

  “Please,” said Walter. “Join us, and together we will defeat him once more. You know we cannot do it without your abilities, and if you do this for us, we will forgive your transgressions. Everything you have done will be forgotten, and your punishment will be lifted. You will be welcomed back as our queen, and we will put this incident behind us and move on with our lives.”

  “And what?” said Calliope, all signs of her smugness gone. “Kate will live happily ever after with Henry, and I’ll have to watch you break your vows to me every time you spot a pretty girl? No, Walter, I am quite happy where I am. Cronus rewards loyalty. All I have received for my loyalty to you is a broken heart and bastard stepchildren.”

  “And what do you think your loyalty to Cronus will get you?” he said. “The ashes of those who love you most, and nothing but loneliness for the rest of eternity if he does not tire of you sooner. That is what awaits you if you continue down this path.”

  “At least then I will have the satisfaction of knowing you are dead. That will do more to keep me warm at night than you ever have.”

  “Then this conversation is over.” Walter let go of her and said to his brothers, “What do you want to do with her?”

  “I suppose f inding a way to make her fade would be too much to ask of you,” said Henry coolly. “Since Cronus’s prison will be empty soon, perhaps she could take his place.”

  “An excellent idea,” said Walter, and he looked at Phillip for approval. Phillip nodded, and Walter clapped his hands together. “It is decided. Calliope will take Cronus’s place, and if we defeat him, she shall join him in his prison. If she decides between now and then to help us f ight, we will reconvene and decide what to do from there. You may go, Kate.”

  I stood, and Calliope’s eyes never left mine. I couldn’t tear myself away, caught between sympathy and baff lement.

  She was going to destroy us and she knew it, yet she was happy to sit by and watch. Walter had offered her a way out of all of this in exchange for her help, and she still insisted on f ighting against the council, knowing what that meant.

  “You’re an idiot,” I said before I could stop myself.

  “You’re going to get not just the entire council killed, but
every single human being, as well. The world’s going to be a wasteland, and what happens to you then? You’ll fade.

  You’ll fade with the rest of us. Is that what you want?”

  “I would rather fade than spend a moment longer in your presence,” said Calliope with eerie calm, as if she were in complete control. As if Henry and Walter and Phillip weren’t even in the room with us. “If that is what it takes to see you all dead, then so be it. That’s a cause I’m willing to fade for.”

  Words swarmed my mind, angry and stinging every inch of me, and I tried in vain to f ind the right ones to say.

  Nothing in the world was going to convince Calliope to relent though. Nothing except—

  “Then kill me,” I said quickly, before the brothers could protest. “Do it now. I want you to, if it’ll mean you’ll help them recapture Cronus.”

  “No,” said Henry sharply. His grip on my shoulder tightened like a vise, but I ignored him. This was between me and Calliope.

  She laughed, a dark, muted sound that was empty of any real humor. “Do you really think that’s all I want?” she said in a sickly sweet voice. “Perfect Kate. So willing to martyr herself for nothing. But of course, if the offer’s still open—” A f lash of lightning sizzled through her. Her body went rigid, and after a tense moment, she slumped in her seat.

  Beside her, Walter crackled with electricity.

  I expected her to be unconscious—no one could possibly withstand that sort of attack—but seconds later, her icy blue eyes opened, and she stared directly at me. It was as if she could see every secret, every thought, every little piece of me that made me who I was, and her lips curled into a cruel smile.

  “Kate,” said Henry. “We need to go now.” The moment I broke eye contact, Calliope hissed. The sound of her voice slithered through the room, creeping under my skin and gluing me to the f loor. “You have my word, Kate Winters,” she said, and a wisp of smoke escaped from her mouth. “I will do to you what you have done to me, and I will take what you love most from you while you are helpless to stop me.”

  A strange prickling heat f illed me, and there was something menacing about it, as if it were a degree away from being sharp and unyielding pain. “What—” I started, but before I could say anything else, Henry stepped between us, and the feeling was gone as soon as it came.