Caged Lightning

by Marina Finlayson

I opened my mouth to say no, when the front door slammed open, rebounding off the wall behind it. A large figure loomed in the doorway, and Lucas automatically took a step forward, placing himself between us and whoever had come calling so noisily.

  “Who the hell are you?” he growled.

  “That’s just what I was about to ask,” the figure growled back.

  13

  I recognised that voice, and breathed out in relief. “It’s okay, Lucas.”

  “She’s a wolf,” he said, still holding himself in readiness to attack, his voice full of warning.

  “I know.” Gently, I pushed him aside. “Come in, Ophelia.”

  Syl glanced uncertainly at me as the big werewolf stalked down the hall and into the kitchen. Ophelia was certainly an imposing figure. I’d thought so when Apollo took me to meet her, and she’d been smiling then. Now her face was like flint, her posture as hostile as Lucas’s.

  Her eyebrows shot up as she took in the boxes full of our belongings and the open cupboards we were stacking them into. Then her gaze came to rest on my face, black and piercing. There was no welcoming smile this time. “I don’t care if you’re Apollo’s friend, you have no right to be in this house. Get out.”

  Lucas stiffened, and she spared him a considering glance. Probably calculating her chance of taking him in a fight. She’d clearly already dismissed Syl and me as any kind of threat.

  “And take all this shit with you,” she added. “How dare you think you can just move in here? Just because you saw it was empty, I suppose, and thought to take advantage of it.”

  Her dark eyes began to glow yellow, a sign that her wolf was close to the surface. The hands she held at her sides were clenched into fists; no sign of claws yet, but they wouldn’t be far behind.

  “It’s not what you think,” I said. “Why don’t we all sit down and have a cup of tea while I explain it to you?”

  Now I wished that I had let Apollo tell her who I was. Then we wouldn’t have had this problem. But I’d hoped to have a chance to settle in before I had to face this conversation. I’d envisaged sitting her down in her office at the gym at a time of my choosing to explain the whole mess, not suddenly being faced with a hostile werewolf about to turn on me. But hey, at least if she did, I could speak to her mind to mind. That ought to convince her.

  Not that we wanted it to get that far, of course. I held out my hands in a placatory gesture as the kettle built up steam and began to whistle behind me, the water bubbling merrily inside.

  I backed away toward the cupboard where I’d just put the mugs. “What kind would you like? Black or herbal? We have peppermint, and I think camomile, too.”

  “You can shove your peppermint tea right up your arse!” she roared. “Get out!”

  “Ophelia. We have Artemis’s permission to be here.”

  She took a deep breath, controlling herself with an effort. “You’re lying.”

  But her voice was calmer, with a wistful note that said she really wanted to believe me. I knew I had her attention and at least a few minutes to state my case.

  I gestured at the dining table. “Take a seat.”

  She hadn’t said what kind of tea she preferred, so I opted for camomile. It was meant to be calming, right? She needed all the help she could get in that department. She sat, but her whole body still quivered with a righteous fury that was ready to boil over if my explanations didn’t meet with her approval.

  Syl helped me make the tea, her movements small and careful, as if she was trying to make herself as inoffensive as possible. Lucas refused to sit, hovering between us and the dining table, getting underfoot, while glaring daggers at the other werewolf.

  I carried Ophelia’s tea over and set it on the table in front of her. As I bent over, my bow-and-arrow charm swung out of the neck of my top.

  Ophelia gasped and surged to her feet, shoving the chair back with a screech. “Where did you get that?”

  Shit. Looked like I was going to have to talk even faster now. She obviously recognised it and knew its significance.

  “It’s mine.” I stared into her eyes, though I had to look up to do it as she loomed over me.

  “It belongs to Artemis,” she ground out.

  “Yes.” I closed my hand around the bow and arrow and let the power within it surge. Bright golden light filled the kitchen, so bright I squinted against it and Syl threw up a hand to shade her eyes. Ophelia didn’t twitch a muscle, though she swallowed hard as the full-size bow and quiver appeared in my hands.

  Her eyes sought mine, confusion and a desperate pleading warring in their depths. She drew in a deep breath, sniffing the air as she had done the first time we’d met. Once again, my scent seemed to confuse her. “But you’re not … you’re not her.”

  “A couple of weeks ago, I would have agreed with you. It’s a long and bizarre story, I’m afraid, but the short version is that Artemis took human form in order to go on a truly epic hunt, where she needed to disguise her divinity from the prey. In the process, she lost her memory and became … well, me. So, we’re both right, in a way. I’m not the same Artemis you knew. But I am her.”

  Doubt hardened into suspicion in her eyes. “You expect me to believe that you’re the goddess, but you’ve lost your memory? So if I ask you to prove who you are by telling me something that only she and I would know, you can’t. How very convenient.”

  Lucas stirred behind me, but I didn’t dare take my eyes from Ophelia’s face to check on him. He’d better stay out of this and leave her to me. Her gaze didn’t flicker from mine either. It was as if we were the only two people in the room.

  Time to try my new party trick. I focused on my need, my longing, just as I had earlier in the bedroom. I knew I’d succeeded when all three of them gasped.

  “I didn’t know you could do that,” Syl breathed.

  Ophelia chewed at her lower lip, doubt still warring with hope in her expression. She’d make a terrible poker player. “Okay, so you look like her. I’m not denying you’ve got some kind of power. But …” She sniffed again. “You don’t smell right.”

  Typical werewolf. She trusted the evidence of her nose more than that of her eyes. What else could I do to convince her? Get a signed deposition from Apollo and Hades? I was pretty sure they hadn’t heard of birth certificates back in ancient times. That probably wouldn’t smell right either.

  “A person’s scent is made up of a dozen different things,” Lucas said stiffly. “The kind of foods they usually eat, the detergent they wash their clothes in, their brand of soap and shampoo, their deodorant—”

  “I know all that,” Ophelia snapped.

  “It’s all right, Lucas,” I said. “Let’s all just sit down.”

  I sank into a chair and, after a moment, so did Ophelia. At least she seemed ready to listen now. Lucas and Syl joined us at the table, though Lucas didn’t touch his mug, as if he wanted to keep his hands free. Or maybe he just preferred coffee. I sighed and scrubbed at my face.

  Then I looked at my hand. Still mine, with my usual tan. And I’d been looking up at Ophelia, when Artemis was about the same height as her, if that photo in her bedroom could be believed. So I needed to go further. Artemis was more than a set of facial features. She was a body, a certain skin colour, a particular smell that was unique to her. That hint of lemon that still clung to her clothes in the wardrobe.

  I quailed at the thought, but then I reminded myself of what Apollo had said. It was easy. You thought of what you wanted, and it just happened. Maybe I hadn’t wanted enough. And maybe if I stopped fighting the idea of godhood, my memories would come back and I might even remember something useful, something to help us all in our struggle.

  I met Ophelia’s lost, hopeful gaze again, and my heart went out to her. She wanted her friend back. Syl had freaked the other day when I’d only been missing for twenty-four hours. I couldn’t imagine how much more Ophelia must have suffered. Artemis had been gone so long, without a word in all that time. Ophelia didn’
t even know whether her friend was dead or alive. Maybe I couldn’t give her Artemis’s memory of her and their real relationship, but at least I could get the outward trappings right. She deserved that much, at least.

  Impulsively, I reached out and covered her big hand with my own. She started but didn’t draw away. My other hand closed on my bow, drawing both power and comfort from the familiar weapon. Maybe my brain had forgotten everything, but my body remembered the bow. I stared into her dark eyes and focused on doing this for her, for setting at least one thing in my crazy world right.

  I felt nothing more than a slight, tingling warmth in my chest, but now I could look Ophelia directly in the eye. When I glanced down at our hands, there was an even greater contrast between her ebony one and my pale one on top of it. She drew in a deep breath, and I looked up to find her dark eyes glistening with unshed tears.

  “It really is you,” she breathed, and then she was up again, and dragging me to my feet with her. She crushed me in a fierce bear hug, and I felt her tears wet on my cheek.

  We may have been the same height now, but there was an astonishing power in those werewolf muscles. I tried to wriggle, but she’d left me no room.

  “Ophelia,” I gasped. “You’re crushing me. I can’t breathe!”

  Reluctantly, she released me, but only to hold me at arm’s length while she examined every inch of me. I was kind of interested in doing that myself, though I figured now wasn’t the time to excuse myself and go check out my reflection. I could see my arms had more muscle definition, and I could tell I was taller, but the rest would have to wait. For now, the joy on the werewolf’s face commanded my attention.

  “I can’t believe it,” she said, a delighted grin transforming her expression. “I thought you were dead! Man, I should kill you myself for running off like that without a word to anyone.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. I guess she thought it was for the best.”

  “She?”

  “Me. I mean, Artemis.” Some of the joy faded from the werewolf’s face as I struggled to find the right words. “It gets confusing. Sometimes it’s easier to think of her as a separate person, since I don’t actually remember being her.”

  Ophelia frowned and sat down again, folding her hands on the table in front of her in an expectant attitude. “Okay, I think I’m ready for that long and bizarre story now.”

  ***

  I was getting so much practice at telling this stupid story, now, that the telling itself didn’t take more than half an hour, but Ophelia’s reactions and questions took a lot longer. Plus, she then wanted to fill Artemis in on everything that had happened since the goddess had disappeared, which included giving me potted histories of everyone she thought I should remember.

  The day sped past in unpacking and talking, and by the time evening rolled around, my head was whirling, full of new names and facts that I was sure I’d never remember. The sheer amount of information exhausted me. I had to call a halt and kick her out, though she didn’t leave without extracting a promise that I would meet her at the gym bright and early for our regular sparring session. It sounded like way too much work for first thing in the morning, but I didn’t want to disappoint her, so I agreed and fell into bed with relief.

  It was still dark when my alarm went off next morning, and I was seriously regretting my charitable impulses, but I hauled myself up and dragged out a daggy old pair of shorts and a T-shirt. I didn’t actually own any exercise gear, per se. Exercise wasn’t something that I’d ever had to seek out in my old life in Berkley’s Bay—it just seemed to form a natural part of my day. With a beach like that at your doorstep, practically beckoning you to take long walks, and everything in the small town within walking distance, I had always seemed to be moving. Even in the bookshop, I was rarely still, stacking and rearranging shelves, finding books for customers or just pacing around while I chatted.

  Artemis had exercise clothes: slim black tights and little midriff tops in soft, breathable fabric. They were neatly folded in the drawer I’d just opened. I chewed my lip as I stared at them—I’d slipped back into my own appearance some time in the night, and I felt weird about appropriating the goddess’s wardrobe. My own clothes felt more natural. And yet … hadn’t I decided I wasn’t going to fight it anymore? I was the goddess.

  I put back the shorts and T-shirt and pulled on the tights and crop top instead.

  With my bow and arrows back in their miniaturised form around my neck, I struck out on the narrow path to the gym. The forest all around was the grey of very early morning, when it was no longer night but not quite day yet, either. I let my senses spread out around me, checking with all the little life forms around me. Some were waking up to start their day, like the kookaburras perched in a gum tree above, their raucous laughter splitting the early silence; others were just bedding down after a night of hunting or feeding. A possum blinked sleepily in a hole in a tree trunk off to my right, and a mother fox returned to her cubs, ready to sleep away the daylight hours with a full stomach. All around me were birds, rats, mice, snakes, rabbits, and insects of many different kinds. The bush teemed with life, most of it well-hidden.

  The use of my familiar power settled me. So much was changing, but the little sparks of animal life were old companions, and reaching out to them felt as natural as breathing. Out of habit, I checked the interior of the gym as I rounded the blank side of the building, but found nothing bigger than a cockroach inside. It was almost a shame my power didn’t extend to sensing humans; it would have been so useful.

  There were already more than a dozen cars in the car park, despite the early hour. The automatic doors slid open as I approached, and a rush of cool air replete with the scent of sweat greeted me as I stepped inside. The fresh air outside had smelled immeasurably better, but I’d probably be grateful for the air conditioning once I’d worked up a sweat of my own.

  “Morning!” the girl at the desk piped cheerfully.

  I nodded but kept going, heading for Ophelia’s office. I opened the door, but there was no one inside. While I hesitated in the corridor, a woman, freshly showered, her wet hair smelling of apple shampoo, stepped out of the change rooms.

  “Are you looking for Ophelia?” she asked. “She’ll be warming up in the training hall. Along the hallway and down the stairs.”

  “Thanks.” I took the stairs she’d indicated, my steps slowing as I neared the bottom.

  What was I doing here? I didn’t want to spar with Ophelia. She’d expect a goddess’s reflexes and get only mine. I’d walk out of here a mass of bruises. And I should be saving my energies for hunting down the shyer members of my own family. We had to find that damned lightning bolt. I had no time to waste in a gym, of all places.

  By the time I reached the bottom step, I’d almost talked myself into hightailing it out of there. The only thing stopping me was the certainty that Ophelia would come looking for me if I didn’t show up.

  I sighed. Might as well get it over with.

  I pushed open the door into the training hall. Ophelia was lounging against a wall, crunching on an apple, watching two other women circle each other warily. She looked up and smiled when I came in, but the other two didn’t take their eyes off each other. The taller one feinted toward the other, but her opponent merely slid sideways, not taking the bait.

  Ophelia straightened and tossed her apple toward a nearby bin as I approached. “I’m going to get dizzy if you two don’t stop going round in circles and start actually fighting soon.”

  The shorter woman grinned, tossing her long ponytail over her shoulder, but again, neither of them stopped watching her opponent. A couple more feints, and then the taller one leapt into action, throwing punches and kicks that her long-haired opponent barely managed to block. They were both moving so fast I could barely keep track of the blows and the clever twists and turns. Ponytail tried to sweep the other’s feet, but she jumped right over the incoming leg, and Ponytail had to scramble out of the way.

 
; I glanced at Ophelia; she was watching it all with keen interest, a little smile playing around her mouth. I hoped she didn’t expect me to perform at this standard, or I was toast.

  I leaned back against the wall, giving the sparring duo plenty of room. An all-too-familiar song came over the loudspeakers and I rolled my eyes as the guy started his whine about how sexy Lexi was. Seriously? Again? Someone here needed a major readjustment in their musical tastes.

  Before I could sigh more than once, the song cut off right in the middle of the chorus, and a new one I hadn’t heard before cut in. It seemed to have started partway through, as there was no introduction, just a woman’s voice singing, Look up, look at meeeee. Weird, but anything was preferable to walking around all day with sexy bloody Lexi stuck in my head. Just as I was relaxing, the music changed again, and sexy bloody Lexi was back—until it wasn’t. Again, the woman shrieked, Look up, look at meeeee.

  I glanced at Ophelia. “What’s wrong with your sound system? Why does it keep playing pieces of different songs like that?” The music kept switching between the sexy Lexi song and the other one, repeating the same two phrases over and over again, one from each song.

  She frowned, glancing up at the speaker. “I don’t know. It’s not supposed to. I’ll have to get Jamie to look at it. The clients will go crazy if they hear nothing but ‘Lexi, look up’ repeated all day.”

  But no sooner had she spoken than the music got over its strange hiccup, and a new song came on, something with an upbeat tempo and no odd stopping and starting.

  “Must have been a temporary glitch,” she said, returning her attention to the sparring match in front of us.

  But mine was caught by what she’d said. Jammed together like that, those two alternating songs had been repeating “Lexi, look up”. But until she’d said it, I’d been too focused on my loathing for that stupid Lexi song to realise it.

  Could it have been a message for me? Zeus had found stranger ways to communicate with me before.

  Lexi, look up. But at what? What did he want me to see? The ceiling? Nothing exciting up there, just regular fluorescent lights and some exposed pipes. The speaker? The girl power sign on the far wall? It was a poisonous bright green, but otherwise unremarkable. At least it wasn’t pink. Although, with its jagged lettering, that exclamation mark looked almost like a—