Lucky Courage (9781370361410)

by Washington, Amanda

  I paused and tapped my chin thoughtfully. “Lovebirds. It all makes sense now. I wonder if they inspired the phrase.”

  “Huh?” Demarco asked.

  “Never mind. I’m getting ahead of myself. Anyway, the couple agreed to a craftsman’s competition. Polytechnos was to make a chair, and Aëdon planned to stitch some embroidery piece. Whoever finished first would be the lucky winner of a female slave.”

  “A female slave?” Demarco sighed. “This is why I don’t like reading this shit. Why can’t they ever do anything that doesn’t screw with people?”

  “Good question. Write it down and we’ll ask Zeus after we put him back together.”

  When Demarco didn’t respond, I continued.

  “Hera helped Aëdon cheat. Polytechnos found out, got pissed, and retaliated in the most sensible way possible.”

  “This is going to be bad, isn’t it?” Demarco asked.

  “Yep. Polytechnos kidnapped and raped Aëdon’s sister.”

  “Do they always overreact?” Demarco asked.

  “Yep. Don’t insult the gods. They flip the hell out. Since Polytechnos went big, Aëdon had to go bigger. Keep in mind they were competing, after all. She retaliated by killing Polytechnos’s son and feeding him to his father.”

  “That’s disgusting.”

  I nodded. “They’re a sick lot. Thankfully the gods decided the whole thing had gone too far. They stepped in and turned Polytechnos, Aëdon, and their families into birds. Hence the lovebirds comment. Get it now? They were in love, now they’re just birds.”

  “Disturbing.”

  “A Greek tragedy.”

  Demarco shifted and I felt him hovering over me. I opened my eyes. His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide. “She really fed his own kid to him?” he asked. “Or are you messin’ with me?”

  “She did, but only after he raped her sister. And it all happened over a stupid bet. It’s in the book,” I said, pointing toward my backpack. “You can look it up.”

  He raked a hand down his face.

  “We’re not the only ones the gods screw with,” I said.

  Demarco had said as much to me when I thought his mom was Aphrodite. Whether or not he recognized the phrase, I couldn’t tell. His expression was stricken.

  “Do any of the stories end in happily ever after?”

  He looked so desperate, I realized this wasn’t about the gods anymore. My blacksmith was searching for confirmation that our situation would work out. He wanted a happily ever after ending for us, one where we saved the day, got our kid back, and the gods left us the hell alone. I knew how he felt, because I wanted the same thing. But I doubted the gods would ever stop screwing with us and I respected Demarco too much to lie to him.

  “I think you’ve mistaken god lore for fairytales. There are no happy endings when the gods are involved. It’s more like survival of the most cunning.”

  He swallowed, as if struggling to consume the nauseating little taste of reality I’d just fed him. Things were complicated between us—mostly because we both lacked relationship experience and I had serious trust issues—but there was chemistry, and Demarco had long-term goals for our relationship. Admittedly, so did I.

  I watched the little spark of hope flicker in his eyes, as he reached the same conclusion I’d drawn years ago. We’d always be playthings for the gods. My chest constricted at the thought of Demarco losing hope. Sure, we were up against insurmountable odds, but no matter how great their love was, we had an advantage over Polytechnos and Aëdon.

  We were partners. Even if I occasionally didn’t run stuff by him before I made huge, plan-altering decisions.

  I put my hand on Demarco’s cheek and looked into his troubled eyes. “You’re right, I should have discussed everything with you before agreeing. And thank you for trusting me enough to not freak out on me when I didn’t. We are partners, Demarco, which is why this is going to work. Polytechnos and Aëdon let the gods come between them with some stupid competition. You and I… we’re on the same team. No competitions and no battles between us. Not ever, okay?” I cracked a smile. “It’s you and me against the sociopaths.”

  Hope flared in his eyes once again, making my stomach somersault. Keeping eye contact, he leaned down and pressed his lips against mine. Warmth spread through my body, burning away the last of my exhaustion. I opened my lips and he deepened the kiss, pressing his weight against me as his hands tangled in my hair.

  Things were just about to get interesting when I heard someone clear their throat. Demarco pushed himself off me and sat up. Tweety stood by the workbench, carrying a tray of eggs, bacon, and biscuits in one hand and a pot of coffee in the other.

  “It’s you, Demarco, and me against the sociopaths, Romi,” he corrected. “Don’t think you two are gonna ditch me somewhere.”

  I grinned and sat up. “As long as you’re cooking, you’re welcome to run straight into danger alongside us, Tweety. Now feed me.”

  ALTHOUGH DEMARCO HAD converted part of his shop to living space, he’d neglected to include a table and chairs. Since the guys and I didn’t want to get crumbs all over his bed, we situated ourselves on the large throw rug beside it and piled breakfast onto our plates. My recovery had sped up exponentially since the arrival of the food, and now, not only could I sit up, but I was having no trouble shoveling sustenance into my mouth.

  I’d just taken a big bite when Tweety asked, “So since you two were making out, I take it Romi won’t be going on a date with the creep?”

  I choked.

  Demarco gently patted my back as I coughed and tried not to die on the eggs stuck in my windpipe. He passed me my coffee cup and replied, “Actually, we haven’t discussed her date with Talon yet.”

  Shocked, I looked from him to Tweety as I sucked down coffee and tried to clear my airway. When I could finally speak, I said, “You’re both high if you think I’m going on a date with Talon.”

  They stared at me like I was an idiot.

  “It’s not a date, it’s dinner. He has information I need. We need. Come on, you guys. You were with me in the shadows after we left the Empusa. You can’t deny that something was following us.”

  “Something was following us,” Tweety confirmed. “Shade. Remember?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Something other than Shade. I don’t know what it was, but it scared the hell out of me. If Talon has information about it, I’d be stupid not to hear him out.”

  “But over dinner?” Demarco asked..

  “It was part of the deal. If he requires dinner…”

  “You didn’t even negotiate.” Tweety shook his head and frowned. “And after all you taught me. You must have told me a dozen times. ‘If you ever find yourself in a position to deal with a god, run away. If you have to deal, negotiate. Be careful of the wording, make sure there are no loopholes, and get everything you can out of the deal.’”

  “It’s just dinner,” I defended. “Didn’t seem negotiation worthy.”

  This time Tweety rolled his eyes at me. “Even I know dinner usually means a date, Romi.”

  Although Tweety’s interaction with humans had been limited to me, Demarco, and Doreán, he had more hours logged in front of the television than anyone I knew. “Maybe on TV, but not in real life. It’s just a business dinner,” I assured him.

  “Maybe for you,” Demarco said. His jaw ticked and when he met my gaze, anger danced in his silvery-blues. “Didn’t you see the way he looked at you? Romi, I swear I wanted to bash that look right off his face. The idea of you going to dinner alone with him…”

  Demarco was jealous. I couldn’t believe it. The stable, sexy, body chiseled from grade-A deliciousness, father of my child was jealous of Talon? Don’t get me wrong, Talon had a wicked bad-boy vibe and looked good in a suit, but Demarco was funny, intelligent, and caring, with the body of… well, a god. Speaking of which, he was still topless, and I took a moment to enjoy the view, letting my appreciation show as my eyes roamed over his body.


  My gaze stopped at the dried blood on his arm. I’d attacked Demarco and Tweety. Sure, Hysminai had been screwing with my head, but still, I drew the blood of my friends.

  Demarco pressed a hand over the wound, as if hiding it would erase it from my memory. “That’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I am worried about it. Look, I don’t trust Talon any more than you do, but it’s clear he knows things. He helped me materialize today.”

  “Naked,” Demarco reminded me.

  “Yeah. But if I can learn how to control my shifting like Shade does, maybe sociopaths like Hysminai won’t be able to get into my head. Shade is pretty much immune to compulsion, you know. What if it’s some sort of shadow ability? Demarco, you don’t understand what I would be willing to do to keep people from screwing with my head and making me do shit. Especially after today.”

  Something indiscernible lingered in his gaze. Maybe fear? I had attacked him, after all. “I still don’t like the idea of you being alone with Talon,” he said.

  Which didn’t surprise me. Demarco was the grandson of Hera, and Hera’s jealousy was legendary. Clearly my handsome blacksmith had gotten the gene. “Trust me, you have nothing to be jealous of.”

  “I wouldn’t call it jealousy, but that bastard… I wanted to gouge out his eyeballs for the way he looked at you when you were naked.”

  Sure sounded like jealousy to me. “He’s a slimeball. He’d probably check out any naked girl the same way.”

  “Do you really not know how beautiful you are?”

  I crossed my arms and stared him down. “I should ask you the same question.”

  Tweety spit out his juice. Coughing and laughing, he ran toward the bathroom.

  “I’m also smart, Demarco, and so are you. So take a minute and think about this situation. Give me one reason I’d give up someone like you for someone like Talon. What could he possibly have that you don’t?”

  Tweety came back with a towel and mopped up his spilled juice, still chuckling under his breath.

  “We’re in a relationship. It’s natural for me to not want you to go to dinner with other men.” Demarco popped a piece of bacon into his mouth.

  A relationship? “Is that what we’re calling this thing between us? Because so far,”—despite my best efforts—“it’s been pretty platonic.”

  Except, of course, for the night I got pregnant. More than four long and celibate years ago Aphrodite had whipped us up some sort of lust cocktail to steal our inhibitions. Since we’d reconnected, a couple of steamy make-out sessions were as close as we’d gotten to procreative behavior. But Demarco always put the kibosh on those before they went too far. Damn the man and his ironclad morals. I had to figure out a way to melt the hell out of his willpower.

  “D, you are pretty,” Tweety said, chuckling as he tossed the dirty towel aside. “But if you ask me, your relationship needs a little shove.”

  We didn’t ask him, but I couldn’t wait to hear what virgin teenage relationship wisdom would come spewing from his mouth, and hoped we wouldn’t all drown in it.

  “Relationships are meant to be easy. Humans, gods, people, they play too many games… too much thinking and talking all the time. Sex is primal. It shouldn’t come with all these emotions and discussions. Griffins… well, if we find someone attractive we just… get it on, you know?”

  He paused, but I could tell he wasn’t finished with his attempt to boggle our minds with his expansive sexual knowledge. I considered stopping him before he made a fool out of himself, but I was morbidly curious about what else he had to say.

  “Griffins are animals,” Demarco pointed out. “People require a connection and a level of commitment before they jump into bed together. Or at least they should.”

  Apparently this was the kind of crazy thinking that came from being sheltered and living with only your mom for your entire life. Romantic, yes, but there was one itsy bitsy flaw in Demarco’s logic. “We didn’t even speak before we hooked up,” I reminded him.

  “I didn’t think you were real. Thought I was dreaming or seeing things or something.” He turned back to Tweety and asked, “What about Talon?”

  “Huh?” Tweety asked.

  “Say Talon’s a griffin, and he finds Romi attractive. Does he just… get it on with her?” Demarco asked.

  His tone had taken on a deranged edge, and it was best for all parties involved if Tweety didn’t answer, so I jumped in.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, leaning forward. “I think Tweety left out one small but vastly important term: consensual. If there’s attraction and it’s consensual, then they get it on. Even if Talon was a griffin, it still wouldn’t be consensual, and therefore there’d be no getting of anything on.”

  However, the look on Tweety’s face told me he hadn’t even pondered the idea of consensual, reminding me griffins were indeed animals and I wasn’t sure how much consent was given during their mating practices. Nor did I want to know. This subject needed to die now.

  “At any rate, that little rest and this food has woken me right up, so I think now’s a good time to discuss our plan to inform the world about Eris’s evil little misdeeds,” I said, setting my empty plate aside.

  DEMARCO KEPT LOOKING back and forth between Tweety and me. I didn’t have the headspace for a detailed interrogation about the sexual practices of griffins, so I nudged him until he focused on me.

  “We need to brainstorm about this. Help me, please,” I begged.

  He sighed. “Fine. But I still don’t think giving Eris followers is a good idea.”

  “Why not?” Tweety asked, holding up the coffeepot. “She’s a goddess. They’re supposed to have worshippers.”

  I nodded and he topped off my cup.

  “You really want to encourage people to glorify the goddess of chaos?” Demarco asked.

  Tweety still looked confused.

  “Demarco has a very valid point. People are stupid, and introducing them to Eris would most likely be a huge mistake,” I said.

  “People are stupid, huh?” Tweety asked, his eyes sparkling with humor and mischief, reminding me of a similar conversation we’d recently had. Right before we left home, I’d caught him watching an infomercial for a highly suggestive workout device with the motion of a guy pleasuring himself and almost died laughing before launching into a rant about the indisputable stupidity of people.

  Giggling at the memory, I nodded. “Definitely. Shake-weighty stupid, even. But in addition to the kooky products they buy as ridiculously ineffective shortcuts to the perfect body, they have this weird mob mentality. Mobs need leaders, and those who make the most grandiose promises and outlandish claims seem to be the first promoted. People clearly like to get swept up in the emotions of the crowd.”

  “Ahh,” Tweety nodded, understanding brightening his expression. “And emotions are easy to manipulate.”

  “Exactly. And they don’t have to be healthy emotions. Fear and hate tend to work just as well as love and joy. If we build Eris an online platform and get her a ton of followers, she will be dangerously influential and unsupervised. If enough idiots drink whatever crazy Kool-Aid she whips up, she will have unlimited potential as the next psychopathic dictator leading the charge of a mob bent on chaos and destruction.”

  “Terrifying,” Demarco said, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Romi, as much as we need her help, we can’t get people to worship her. You’re not painting the image of a world I want to raise our son in.”

  My chest constricted. Every time Demarco mentioned Doreán, I was reminded of how much time the gods had taken from us. How much they were still taking. I couldn’t wait for Demarco to finally get the chance to get to know and appreciate the cool little man we’d created.

  “And there’s no guarantee Eris will follow through with her promise to help us,” Demarco added.

  “She wasn’t lying,” Tweety said. “And if Romi comes through with the worshippers, the contract would prevent Eris from going back on her
word.”

  The griffin was like a human lie detector, always gauging heartbeats and bodily reactions to tell whether or not someone was being honest. Eris would have to be very good to pull the wool over Tweety’s eyes. Of course, one of her children was basically lies and forgery wrapped in a deceptive god-like package. But Pseudologos hadn’t made the offer, Eris had.

  “She was being honest about wanting everything to go back to normal so she and Ares can get back to their war games.” Tweety tapped on his leg a few times and then cocked his head. “What other ideas do you have for getting her followers, Romi?”

  “I thought about hiring a priest to build a controlled following… the kind focused on appreciating the beauty of chaos without encouraging followers to replicate it. Kinda like setting it on a pedestal mere humans could never hope to aspire to. But that sort of plan would take too long to put into action. Plus, Eris could easily wrestle control away from a priest. She needs a handler strong enough to keep her in her place.”

  Demarco looked stricken. He leaned back against the side of the bed and stared at the ceiling. “You know, it’s a good thing none of the gods have figured out the online thing. Romi, that would be very bad.”

  I nodded. “Yep. Any idiot with a video camera and an Internet connection can get famous these days. And the more outrageous and over the top their ideas are, the more idiots will flock to them. If they got a couple of stars to back them...”

  “Disastrous,” Demarco said.

  “Indeed. Okay, that settles it. No making gods Internet famous. And since the priest thing would take too long and has the potential to backfire, we’re going to have to go with Plan C.” I grabbed my backpack and riffled through it.

  “What’s Plan C?” Demarco asked.

  I unzipped a hidden pocket and pulled out a thumb drive. “Eris didn’t give me any stipulations. Usually the gods are great at contracts, but Eris is so desperate to be worshiped she kept the wording vague. She wants followers, but she made no mention of what type of followers or what she’d have to do to get them or what sort of leader she’d be willing to become.”