by Raye Wagner
Hope wanted to cry.
“Gods, please tell me you know me, Hope. Please tell me it’s still you.” His voice cracked as though his emotional state were fragile and one more thing would cause his mind to break.
“Are you going to try to kill me?” she whispered. She’d known his past, but he’d said he didn’t kill monsters anymore, didn’t he? She thought she was safe with him. She believed him when he said she could trust him.
Xan swallowed. With a trembling hand, he sheathed the immortal weapon. “You’re still you, right?”
She nodded. Even with the weapon put away, her heart was heavy. She’d told him she might change. She’d done everything she could to prepare him. And he’d still pulled a knife on her. It was irrational to be upset with him, but it didn’t matter. He’d hurt her feelings. And it only took a second for her hurt to solidify into anger. “How dare you pull your knife on me?”
She crept toward him, closing the distance warily but determined. When she got close enough, she drew back her hand and punched him in the stomach.
Xan doubled over with a wheeze. He’d put up no fight, no block against her attack. Just taken her punch like he’d known he deserved it.
Which, of course, made all the fight drain out of her. She stepped back just out of his reach. “You hurt my feelings.”
Xan straightened, her too tight T-shirt looking ridiculous stretched across his broad shoulders. He smiled, his lips pulled up in an impish grin, and he wheezed and coughed through his laughter. “Aye. I got that message, lass. Shite, you hit hard.”
Her lips twitched. “You kind of deserved it.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t. But you scared the crap out of me, you did.” His gaze raked over her body, from the tip of her wings to her lion’s tail, before settling on her face. “I’ve never seen you afore, Hope, not like this. And if you would’ve asked me, I’m not sure I would’ve said I’d be okay with it. But you’re bloody beautiful as the Sphinx.”
Hope blushed and ducked her head. “Shut up.”
“I’m not kidding, but I’ll stop since I’m embarrassing you.” He stepped over the fire pit and crossed the clearing to where she stood. He stooped down until they were at eye level. “Can you really fly?”
She straightened and let her wings unfurl behind her. They were no longer stuck. “Yes, I can.”
Xan reached out to touch her feathers but stopped before contact. “May I?”
She’d never had anyone beside her mother touch her when she was a Sphinx, and Hope shrugged.
He trailed his fingertips over her feathers, stroking her wing. Fire trickled its way down her abdomen in response to the intimate touch. She gulped when he drew closer. Staring at her abdomen, he brushed his hand over her fur, and she giggled nervously and pulled away.
“It tickles when you do that.” She dodged his hand and scooted away from him. “It’s way more sensitive than my human skin. I didn’t know . . .”
She didn’t know it would feel like that.
He dropped his hand, but his eyes remained wide. “If you leave now, do you think you can figure out where we are and how to get off this mountain?”
It was still very early. Their words puffed out in front of them in the cold air. The pale streaks would slowly spread over the next hour, and then this part of the world would be awake. If they left now, they might be able to get off the mountain.
Xan’s skin wasn’t blue anymore, but he didn’t look healthy either. He was thin, too thin, and Hope wondered how long they’d been gone. How long it had been since they’d eaten. How long they’d gotten by on too little rest. “We should go.”
Xan raised his eyebrows. “Are you going to carry me?”
He’d said it as if it were a joke, but that was exactly what she was going to do. “You can’t climb on my back. I’m going to have to carry you like a baby.”
He snorted. “You are not carrying me like a baby.”
The wind was picking up, and the sun would start its ascent in earnest any second now. She didn’t have time to worry about bruising his ego. It was now, or they’d have to wait another day. Hope wasn’t going to wait any longer. She flapped her wings in the cold morning air, and her body lifted from the ground.
Maneuvering in the clearing proved difficult, and Xan made it more so. He stood almost dead center with his mouth open, staring up at her.
Once she cleared him, she pulled up high into the air. Hope circled once, looking out over the tops of the trees. There was water visible on either side, and she guessed they were in the Olympic mountain range. Several small towns dotted a road leading inland. If she was right, she could have them in Seattle in twenty minutes. Maybe less.
Xan shook his head and unconsciously rubbed his hands over his arms. The early morning spring air was bitingly cold. He stomped his feet, likely trying to get the circulation going to his limbs.
She needed to get him off the mountain, regardless of his pride. She’d never carried a person, but she didn’t doubt her strength. It would be awkward, but as long as Xan held still . . .
As he bent over to add more wood to the fire, he swore. There was no longer a fire. The last glowing coal had darkened and cooled during her shift.
“Xan,” she called to him. “Don’t hate me.”
His grimace morphed into confusion as he stared up at her. “I’m not h-hating you, luv.” He continued to rub his arms. “But I’m not s-sure I can build another f-f-fire.”
The peeking sun was spreading. They were running out of time. Hope tucked her wings and swooped in to grab the son of Ares. She scooped under his legs, and braced her other arm around his back.
“What the—”
“Hold still,” she admonished as she beat her wings. He was heavy, and it was awkward, but she could do this. She could feel the weight of his gaze as they pulled up above the treetops.
Xan chuckled. “There really aren’t words for how funny this is. I’m like a damsel in distress, and you’re the hero. But I just don’t feel right about snuggling in close to your chest.”
She almost released him with the thought. “Don’t get any ideas—”
He held his hands up in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t dare. You might d-d-drop me.”
His fair skin was icy to the touch, and the higher they went, the colder it would be.
Instinctively, she pulled him closer. “Don’t freeze to death on me. I need you too much.”
“Th-that warms m-m-my heart,” he joked.
The horizon melted into warmer colors, so Hope needed to hurry. They were high enough that she could see the skyscrapers of Seattle in the distance. She turned south and headed toward Olympia.
Xan’s coupe was the lone vehicle in the parking lot of the temple of Ares, so she landed.
“Do you have your keys still?”
He bent his neck side to side. “No, but there’s a spare in the wheel well,” he said, walking around to the back passenger side. The car beeped when he pushed the button on the key fob. Standing at the car door, he asked, “What will you do?”
Hope shrugged. She had no choice. “I’ll go hide in the mountains until sundown tomorrow. Will you come pick me up? After I change back?”
They agreed on a time and place, and then Xan got in his car. “I’m not leaving until I see you take off. I’m not sure if Xavier is still here, even with his car gone. If you go straight up that hillside, you’ll find a little cabin. It should be empty right now, but if there’s smoke coming out of the chimney, go somewhere else. There will be food there, and it will keep you dry.”
She didn’t tell him that there was no way she would even take a chance. She waved at him. “See you tomorrow.”
Then she pulled into the air.
The room was quiet. Far too quiet. In fact, the entire apartment seemed to be holding its breath in anxious anticipation and had been for the last two weeks. Every morning, Athan told himself that today was the day. They’d come back today. But then night would fall, a
nd he had to admit that the waiting was tearing him up. Xan and Hope still hadn’t arrived home. As the days stretched into a week, Athan understood Hope’s panic better. If she were to walk in the door, he would probably yell and rush to pull her into his arms too.
His anxiety crept closer and closer to panic. Should he call his father? Would he be angry at Athan for asking if Hope made it to Olympus? Or would Hermes refuse to tell Athan if Hope was even alive?
So many questions and no answers made it impossible to sit still, and Athan decided a run would at least get rid of the crawling tension that made it so difficult to sleep. The spring evening air was cool on his heated skin. Athan took a right on 148th Street and ran toward the hospital. His thoughts went to his mortality, and a twinge of guilt nudged him when he thought of Hope. If she wasn’t back tomorrow, he’d go to the temple and petition his father for aid. Athan needed to know if she was okay.
After dinner and a shower, Athan stretched out on Hope’s bed and stared out the window at the dark streetlight arced over the sidewalk. He and Hope had jogged under that light at least a dozen times. Any minute now and it would turn on. The evening sun streaked the deepening sky with tendrils of violet and pink. Athan turned from the window and surveyed Hope’s room. Her pillow no longer smelled like her, but the framed images made it feel like she was still present. The pictures weren’t enough, but they were all he had while he waited.
He hated waiting. And more than that, Athan hated that he was useless to Hope.
The sun dipped, the light faded from the room, and the streetlight flickered on. Athan rolled over to stare out at the darkness.
Tomorrow he would go talk with his father. Tomorrow Athan would get some answers.
He curled on his side and looked at the statue of Hecate on the desk. He cringed with the reminder of the Underworld but recognized that the effigy was responsible for the safety in their space. The figurine didn’t just keep out Skia. Even the gods couldn’t break the protection it provided.
“Athan,” Hermes materialized in the room, calling for his son’s attention. Panic lit the god’s face, and he reached for his son. “We need to go. Now.”
Athan sat up and rubbed his eyes. The clock’s red numbers boldly declared it was 3:28 a.m. “Dad? What are you doing here?”
Hermes grabbed Athan’s arm and pulled him. “Get your things. Whatever you want to take with you, grab it. But we need to go.”
“What are you talking about?” Athan yawned and stretched as he scooted to the edge of the bed. “Go where? What’s happening?”
“That monster-girl petitioned Ares for aid. He refused, but at some point she told him Apollo destroyed the Olympian temple. Now, all of Olympus is in an uproar. Apollo is denying anything, and I’m doing what I can, but if there is war, I can’t have you here.”
Athan stood, but it was shock that drove him up. He stared at his father, trying to process everything Hermes said, but really Athan kept going over the fact that Ares had refused to help. Hope was still here in the mortal realm.
Hermes frowned and shook Athan’s arm. “Are you listening to me? There are too many gods who know of your connection to her. They’ll use you to get to her, and I will not have you . . . used that way.”
Athan heard what his father wasn’t saying, too, thanks to his discussion with Hope. Hermes was frightened, and love had driven him to act.
But Athan loved Hope. Now wide-awake, he asked, “Is Hope okay?”
Hermes shrugged noncommittally, and his gaze shifted to the left before returning to his son. “I know not. I know only that Ares refused her. He came to Olympus only moments ago and accused Apollo. I haven’t been summoned to lead her to Hades, so she is still alive . . . somewhere.”
“I want to stay, Dad. I need to be able to help her when she comes back. I need—”
“You need to stay safe!” Hermes punctuated his declaration with a fist to the wall. The plaster popped with the force, leaving a hole in the drywall. Hermes brushed the chalky white substance from his hand. “You know not what you’re dealing with. The Fates . . .” Hermes paced the room as if he could outrun the knowledge plaguing him. With a heavy sigh, he stopped in front of his son. “You are bound to her. The Fates have woven your thread with hers. If she is killed, you’ll die, too.”
Athan’s chest tightened. Hope would hate that. More gods meddling with more lives. Like her burden wasn’t big enough already. He sat back down on the edge of the bed. “I’m not worried about that. I understand the risks, but we have a statue of Hecate. And if I can do something to help her . . .”
He would do anything.
“You think you love her. I get that. But you staying here won’t help. That figurine won’t be enough.” Hermes sat on the bed next to his son. “Listen. There’s not a single god on all of Olympus who will help her.”
Tracing the stitching on the comforter, Hermes fell silent.
Athan’s thoughts raced as he waited for his father to say more. If Ares had refused Hope, then where would they go? Hermes’s words bounced around in Athan’s head. None of the gods on Olympus would help? Athan refused to believe it. They just needed a connection to someone who would help. Someone who liked Hope. “What about Poseidon or Hephaestus? What about the Fates?” Aphrodite had helped Hope’s grandmother. “What about the goddess of love?”
Hermes blanched but didn’t answer. His gaze remained fixed on the pale-green-and-blue comforter. “You aren’t listening to me. They will come here as soon as they figure out where she is. If they find you here, they’ll kill you.” He cleared his throat and lifted his head. Hermes gave his son a sad smile, eyes filled with tender emotion. “You may not care if you die, but I do. And if you really care about Hope, consider this: That bond, the Fate’s binding, may go both ways. If you die, it very well may affect her.”
The words were like bullets. Painful dread exploded with fear for Hope. His previous analysis of whom they could petition for aid shifted to who would seek to harm her. And then doubt filled him. Was his father lying to make him leave? Athan grabbed his father by the shoulders. “Are you sure if I die, she will too?”
Hermes flinched under his son’s gaze. “I . . . I don’t know.” After a long, slow exhale, the god continued, “It’s only supposition. I’ve not been able to reach the Fates. They’ve not responded to any of my summons in the Underworld, and I’m not sure they will. The only other place I could ask is on Olympus, but surely you understand the folly of that.”
It would be like announcing Athan as Hope’s Achilles heel if it were true. Athan glanced to the ceiling and wondered aloud, “What can we do?”
“Pack your bags. I’ll take you somewhere safe.” Hermes stood and looked around the room. He pointed to the picture frames on the dresser, and Athan followed with his gaze. There were several of Hope with the people she loved: Haley, Leto, Priska, Dahlia, Xan, and Athan.
Athan’s heart sank. Hope would come home and think he’d abandoned her. The thought made him sick.
“This is her room.” He turned to his son, surprise flitting across his face. “You really do love her?”
Athan shook his head in disbelief as he crossed the room. As he passed the dresser, he looked at the pictures. Haley. Mr. Stanley. Oh gods. Athan picked up the silver frame with the two of them. Hope’s eyes were closed, and her mouth was open in laughter. Athan stood behind her, his arms around her waist. They’d still been in Goldendale then. After she left, Athan went to Peter Stanley to try to find her. Peter Stanley, Hephaestus’s son, had been fiercely loyal to Hope.
“Yes, I really love her,” Athan said. He held the frame close and made a decision. “I won’t go with you. I need to stay here so Hope will know where to go next.”
Hermes froze. “Did you just . . . ? Did you not hear me? If you stay here, they’ll kill you!”
“No!” Athan pointed to the statue of Hecate. “They can’t.”
Hermes slammed his fist on top of the dresser as he yelled, “That will
do nothing! Athan, you’re talking naïve foolishness. You must come with me.”
Athan took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He wanted to do something for Hope, and now he could. She’d come back, and when she did, he’d be waiting. “I will not. Hope knows Hephaestus’s son. She can go to him, and he’ll help her.”
Hermes glanced at the watch on his wrist and shook his head. “Fine,” he said. “Fine! I’ll come back and tell her if she makes it back, okay? Now can we go?”
Athan loved his father but didn’t believe him, not in this moment. Crystal clear understanding dawned on him. “I love you, too, Dad, but I won’t be manipulated into choosing you over her. I won’t go with you. If you force me, I’ll fight you, and I will do everything I can to get back to her. If you corner me to choose, I’ll choose her.”
Hermes seemed to sag with the weight of Athan’s decision. The god bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. In a quiet voice, he asked, “What will it take? What must I do so you will let me keep you safe?”
“I’ll go with you on one condition.”
Hermes’s head shot up, and his entire body leaned toward his son. “I’m listening.”
“You must tell her about Poseidon as a potential ally. And if that fails, Peter Stanley could petition Hephaestus.”
“Done.”
“I’m not finished. If you have the chance to save her life, if it comes down to you being her only hope, you have to swear to me you’ll save her.”
“Technically that’s two conditions, and each quite distinct.” When Athan said nothing, Hermes rolled his eyes. “Fine. I agree. Now, let’s go.”
Athan shook his head. “That won’t do. I need you to swear on the Styx, Dad.”
Hermes’s eyes blazed, and he glared at his son. “I swear on the Styx that if I’m Hope’s only chance at survival, I’ll step in and intervene to save her. I’ll also tell her to go to Poseidon and Peter Stanley.” By the time he was done speaking his oath, Hermes’s face was ravaged with emotion. “Please, Athan, we’re running out of time.”