Peace for Poseidon (Olympians Ascending Book 1)

by Sotia Lazu

  Peace for Poseidon

  Olympians Ascending, Volume 1

  Sotia Lazu

  Published by Acelette Press, 2020.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  PEACE FOR POSEIDON

  First edition. January 15, 2020.

  Copyright © 2020 Sotia Lazu.

  Written by Sotia Lazu.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue – Sei

  NOW | Chapter One – Sei

  Chapter Two – Irine

  Chapter Three – Sei

  Chapter Four – Irine

  Chapter Five – Sei

  Chapter Six – Irine

  Chapter Seven – Sei

  Chapter Eight – Irine

  Chapter Nine – Sei

  Chapter Ten – Irine

  Chapter Eleven – Sei

  Chapter Twelve – Irini

  Chapter Thirteen – Sei

  Chapter Fourteen – Irine

  Chapter Fifteen – Sei

  Chapter Sixteen – Irini

  Chapter Seventeen – Sei

  Chapter Eighteen – Irine

  Chapter Nineteen – Sei

  Chapter Twenty – Irine

  Chapter Twenty-one – Sei

  Chapter One – Hermes

  Prologue – Sei

  “Hide, boy. Now.” Mother shoves me hard between the shoulder blades when I don’t do as she says, but I can’t move.

  My feet are rooted to the ground, my heart hammering against my ribs. Can you get a cracked rib this way? Probably not, but I may get one if Mother has to repeat herself.

  She hooks a thumb over her shoulder. I know what this means. I’m supposed to go to the other room and hide under the bed. It’s what I’ve always done when people came knocking. They’re not supposed to know I’m here. If they find out, they’ll take me away. How bad can that be, though? It’s not like I’m wanted here; Mother has said so outright more than a couple times, though she’s usually drunk when she goes into how raising me has ruined her life.

  She arches an eyebrow, and I know better than to challenge my fate.

  I’m almost at the doorway, when the front door bursts open behind me. I can tell without looking. The sound of wood splintering and Mother’s horrified gasp fall in the background, as a new... presence fills my senses. Whatever’s in the apartment with us isn’t human—I know that with all the certainty of my twelve years.

  I also know it’s come for me.

  “You want him back? You can have him.” Mother’s tone is reasonable. Conversational. But I recognize the hint of panic beneath it. And it feels oddly good. Guilt spills inside. She’s not a good mother, but she’s all I’ve got. I shouldn’t feel happy she’s scared. Especially when she’s all but handing me away.

  Something else overtakes the glee and the guilt and the sense of otherness clinging to my nostrils. I turn slowly on one bare heel, and look at the man—he’s not a man—standing at our destroyed threshold.

  He’s impossibly tall and impeccably dressed, not a speck of dirt on his black suit or shiny shoes despite the rubble around him. Sleek white hair brushed back from an unlined face, he looks at me with gray eyes so kind, I almost smile.

  But I don’t. Because this is a façade. He’s not a he; he’s an it.

  “Back?” I ask. From the corner of my eye, I see Mother back away. I face her, intensely aware of the not-a-man watching me. “You said he wants me back?”

  Mother scrambles toward the next room, and part of me expects the newcomer to blast her out of existence, like in that Sci-Fi show she doesn’t miss an episode of.

  Instead, the not-a-man laughs. “You’re so perceptive, Poseidon. I entrusted you to Mrs. Papadopoulou’s care eight years ago, but the time has arrived for you to come home.”

  “Great choice,” I mumble, because it’s less painful than focusing on what that care has entailed. If there’s any consolation to be found, it’s in the fact that the woman who yelled at me and smacked me around and sent me to bed on an empty stomach if I forgot to leave my shoes outside the door isn’t my real mother.

  Its expression turns sad. “I know things haven’t been ideal, but I promise they had to be this way. I will make it up to you. And I do wish you wouldn’t think of me as an it. I am very much a male, though not a human one. Then again, you’re not human either, are you?”

  His words sound crazy, but no truth has ever felt more right.

  I’m not human.

  I’ve always felt misplaced. Alone. Different.

  When he holds out his hand and says, “Come. We must collect one of your brothers next,” I take it without hesitation.

  His warm palm wraps around mine, and for the first time, I belong.

  On pure instinct, I ask, “Are you my grandfather?”

  He looks down at me with a small smile. “Closest thing to it,” he says low enough I may have imagined it. He clears his throat. “You can call me C.”

  NOW

  Chapter One – Sei

  Can a phone be a trap?

  Cause mine certainly feels like one.

  If I pick up, I set in motion things designed long before my birth. My latest birth, at least.

  C can’t see the definitive future, but he sees the results of individual choices, and he’s guided my brothers and me to this version of our destiny. This is my last chance to escape the burden about to fall on my shoulders. I can ignore the call. Run. Hide.

  Like there’s a place remote enough for C to lose my trail.

  I snort and reach for the receiver, hating the heartbeat of hesitation before I close my hand over it. “This is Sei,” I say. Not that I need to. This is my private office line, and he’s the only one who could be calling at this hour.

  “Do you have to keep mangling your name, Poseidon?” C’s distaste stretches across the line and fills me with childish satisfaction.

  But I’m not a child anymore, and I’ve already agreed to what’s coming. Besides, I want the power. I’ve prepared for it my entire life. “Do you have to keep protesting my choices?” I ask.

  If C hears the impatience in my voice, he doesn't show it, instead prattling on about how names have power, and shortening mine is turning my back on my history as well as my future. I won’t point out the irony in our situation, when he goes by a single freaking letter.

  “Is it done?” I grind out, striving not to sound aggressive toward the man who raised me. Times like this, with a past I didn’t live pressing down on me, I almost forget how much I owe him.

  He sighs. “It is. Kronos is incapacitated again, Zeus is out of the picture for good, and the Titans are stabilized.”

  I hear what he doesn't say—my time has come. This is it. This is what I was raised for. This is where my ascension begins. A mix of relief and trepidation tightens in my gut. I coil the cord of the phone around my index finger. “And Rhea?”

  His hesitation is palpable. Then— “I’m sorry.”

  Seems I won't be meeting my original mother after all. “Did she suffer?”

  C sounds pained when he says, “No. She chose to go into stasis, to help beat Kronos. If anything, she’s getting some peace and quiet, at long last.”

  Of all the Titanesses, she alone remained immortal for millennia, doomed to walk this world alone, thanks to my selfish brother, Zeus. Stasis may be a welcome reprieve.

  “My jet is ready and waiting. I can be in the air in two hours.” I should be feeling elated. The world is about to become mine. Instead, weariness seeps into my bones.

 
“About that... You don’t want to seem careless with resources. Hermes has you booked on a commercial flight. Business class, of course. You’re flying out at one fifteen in the afternoon, from Terminal 5. Your brother tells me your ticket is in your inbox, whatever that is.” For someone who likes to pretend technology hasn't evolved since the nineties, C’s always surprisingly on top of things.

  I want to protest the inconvenience of flying commercial, but I mumble an, “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  “Have a safe flight.” He chuckles. “Oh, and remember, Ms. Anastasaki’s interview has been arranged for Monday morning.”

  Like I could forget. Like he’d let me forget.

  I end the call with a grumbled goodnight.

  Need to make arrangements for the morning. “Kelly.” I could use the intercom, but where’s the fun in that, when I can yell instead?

  My secretary nudges open the door to my office and pokes her full head of curls inside. “Are we finally going home?” Her arched eyebrow says she’s not happy, still being at work at ten in the evening on a Friday. But the deal is she’s here while I’m here, and she gets paid enough not to complain.

  “In a minute. Tell George to bring the car at ten tomorrow. Then you may go.”

  A grin stretches her full lips. “Want a ride tonight?”

  “Nah. I’m good.”

  Kelly’s been offering since I hired her, six years ago. I’ve never once said yes. Mostly because she doesn’t have a car.

  “Goodnight, boss,” she says with an exaggerated sigh.

  I chuckle at the theatrics. “See you in a week. Hold the fort while I’m gone.” Which shouldn’t be long.

  All I need to do is fly to Athens, fuck Irine Anastasaki, ascend, and return to London, to take over the world.

  Chapter Two – Irine

  “Shit. Why can’t you just exchange my ticket? You said yourself the one-fifteen flight to Athens is half empty. And I know for a fact I’ve paid more than a ticket on this flight would cost.” I tap an acrylic nail on my ticket—the one I booked for tomorrow evening, after I was supposed to have spent a romantic weekend with my boo. I surprised him this morning, with his favorite bacon-and-parmesan pastry from his favorite bakery in Athens.

  Asshole surprised me back.

  I squeeze my eyes against the memory of Tassos, fucking that blonde against the wall. In the apartment my dad rented for us to live in together. Beside the sofa I fucking chose and paid for with the money I made waiting tables while we both studied in London.

  We had a plan. I would get the job with Olympian Hotels and Resorts that came with relocation to London after a three-month training period in Greece. In the meantime, Tassos would finish his PhD in Archeology. We’d get married and have our happy forever after here. Where we met. Where we fell in love.

  “I just want to get out of London today, okay?” I give the airline lady my fiercest glare. “There has to be something you can do.”

  Remarkably calm, as if my world didn’t just end, she says, “As I’ve already explained to you, your ticket cannot be changed. I can, however, check you into the next flight to Athens, as long as you buy a ticket for it. Which you can do online or at the airline kiosk.” She speaks slowly, like she doubts my ability to understand her.

  Her perfect, smooth, auburn tresses mock my frizzy curls. It wasn’t supposed to rain today, but in keeping with the rest of my morning, the weather decided to fuck me over too. I wanna grab her by those tresses, pull her over the counter, and yell that I cannot buy a new ticket, because I only had enough cash to cover my cab fare from and to the airport. My Greek bank decided my credit card—same card I used here mere months ago—was no longer supposed to be used outside Greece, so they blocked it. I still have money in my UK account, but my British debit card is in the top drawer of my nightstand. Half a dozen meters from where Tassos was shagging his side piece last I saw him.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and try not to snap at the poor woman who hasn’t—to my knowledge—fucked my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.

  My phone rings. Fifth time since I stormed out on my nightmare. And it’s Tassos again. I can tell from the sickeningly sweet ringtone I need to change as soon as I’m booked on a flight. “I can have my mother buy a ticket online,” I tell the woman. “Can you... I don’t know. Make sure the plane doesn’t leave? Please, give me ten minutes.”

  She rolls her eyes, and for the first time, her tone is less than cordial. “I can’t hold the plane for you, madam. I’ve already held up the queue longer than I should have. I’m sorry, but you will have to either book a new ticket or fly out tomorrow evening, as initially scheduled. Either way, you need to—”

  “Will you be much longer?” The smooth male voice comes from behind me, but I don’t turn.

  I need this woman to understand. I need someone to understand. My dreams died today, and she’s holding out her hand for the next person in line.

  “Please.” I have no more words.

  Someone taps me on the shoulder, and this time I spin, fists clenched at my sides. “Do not fucking touch me, and wait for your fucking turn,” I all but growl. A wide chest wrapped in a perfectly fitted suit fills my vision. I look up at the face of the man towering over me. Blue-green eyes take me in with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. Chiseled cheekbones are sucked in as he bites his cheek. Is he trying not to laugh? At me?

  I narrow my eyes and huff, and this time he does laugh. “Adorable,” he says. In Greek.

  Until this moment, I’ve not mourned my loss. I haven’t allowed myself to feel the pain of Tassos’s betrayal. But this stranger’s casual dismissal of my anger breaks through it. Rips down the dam keeping me safe from the intensity of my grief. My heart squeezes, and my gut threatens to bring up the pastry I ate out of spite while trying to hail a cab.

  What hurts the most is that not for a moment since I saw Tassos buried in another woman’s pussy have I felt sorry to lose him. It’s my future with him I’m going to miss. Was I holding on to our relationship because of the comfort of the familiar? What does that say about the person I am? I’ve always considered myself independent and strong, but my version of happiness hinged on a guy.

  Unshed tears burn my eyes. I don’t want to let them roll down my cheeks. Not in front of this gorgeous guy studying me like I’m an exotic bug on his windshield.

  But I probably will. “I’m not adorable.” And stomping my foot won’t prove my point. “I’m upset. Angry. At men, in particular. You really do not want to mess with me today.” I stick with Greek. Can’t really make my disdain as obvious in English.

  The smile dancing on his lips is as stunning as the rest of him, and pisses me off even more. Why is he smiling? Can’t he see I’m spinning out of control?

  “I’d love to mess with you any day,” he says.

  I snort. “Really? You just said that? Okay, then. Mess with me.” I cross my arms over my chest and stare him down, which—not to brag—is no easy feat when I have to look way up, to meet his gaze.

  When he says nothing, I poke him in the chest with my index finger. “Thought so. So why don’t you just wait your turn—”

  The asshole circles around me and leans against the check-in counter.

  “Hey.” I tug at his jacket, but it’s like trying to move a house. “Hey, I wasn’t done.”

  “Can you please do something about this?” he asks the travel agent. Is he asking her to call security on me or something? As if my day hasn’t been bad enough...

  She looks at him and swoons. Literally swoons. “Let me see...” She flicks her gaze my way and waves her hand impatiently.

  It takes me a second to realize she wants my ticket. I hand it to her. Passport too.

  She huffs, sighs, clicks on her keyboard, and finally hands me back my passport and a boarding pass. “Gate B35.”

  Shit. Did the annoying guy just charm my way onto this flight?

  I should thank him, but I’d rather be petty. I mutter a thanks to the w
oman and head toward the nearest announcement board without sparing the guy a glance. Okay, so maybe I look back once, to see how his slacks stretch over his rounded ass. Nice.

  Not nice. He’s a jerk. He probably did mean for me to be removed by force, but the airline lady didn’t get it.

  Yup. I’m petty.

  Chapter Three – Sei

  Fucking C couldn’t leave things well enough alone. There’s no way Irine just happened to be at the airport at the same time as I arrived. He knew she’d be there, which is why he had me fly commercial.

  He also obviously knew something’s up with her and her boy-toy—excuse me, boyfriend. I was planning on luring her away from him on Monday, under the pretense of the interview, but going by how angry she was at men, at the airport, I guess they’re done.

  Which C obviously knew when we talked last night.

  I should be furious, and I absolutely would be, but my thirty-second interaction with her made my day. She’s a spitfire. And I absolutely would love to mess with her. Correction—will love messing with her. Several times. That’s my destiny, after all.

  The time wasn’t right for me to claim my throne when I was born before. Now it is, and she’s the requirement I need to fulfill. Pun so fucking intended.

  A tingle runs down my spine. Same as before, when she was near. I raise my gaze as she boards the plane, and make no effort to hide my perusal of her curves and her long legs in her tight jeans. I should look away. Let her fly home in peace. See her on Monday and proceed to seduce her. Claim her. Regain my full powers.

  Stick to the plan.

  Like hell, I will.

  Besides, if C planned this, he must have known what I’d do. Which means it will probably work. Which kind of takes the fun out it.

  And this is the worst part about having a primordial being who can see versions of the future as a grandfather figure—I never know how many of my choices are made freely and how many are predetermined.