Danny

by Steven Piziks

  Golden blood leaked from the T-shaped scar and dripped down to Prometheus’s face. Ganymede knelt before him, feeling awful. Taking three hairs from him would be like teasing a dying wolf.

  Prometheus opened his eyes. They were the same green as Echidna’s, and Ganymede remembered that the two of them, monster and titan, children of Gaea, were half-brother and half-sister. The eyes were filled with pain and fogged with delirium. Iris gasped.

  “Who are you?” Prometheus said in a hoarse whisper. “Get away! You aren’t supposed to be here.”

  “Here,” Ganymede said. “Drink this.” And he summoned nectar into the goblet to pour into Prometheus’s mouth. It was tricky, since the god was upside-down, but Ganymede was an expert. As the nectar coursed through Prometheus’s body, the wounds and scars simply went away, like worms burrowing away from sunlight. Prometheus gasped, pain-free for the first time in centuries. His eyes cleared, and seemed to truly see Ganymede for the first time.

  “You!” he said. “By the torch, it’s you!”

  Ganymede blinked. “Have we met before?”

  “You have to run! Now!” Prometheus shouted. Terror twisted his face. He struggled against the clattering chains, his tendons standing out like hard wires, but his bonds didn’t give. “Go! Run! Before he finds you!”

  “Hey, calm down,” Ganymede said. He put a hand on Prometheus’s upside-down chest. “It’s okay. No one’s here.”

  But his touch only seemed to terrify Prometheus even more. He screamed in horror and tried to pull away. Every muscle stood out, as if they were trying to tear free of his skin. Ganymede pulled back, startled and puzzled.

  Iris got between them and knelt. “Prometheus, it’s all right,” she said softly. “No one will see us. Calm down. Calm. Breathe.”

  Prometheus made an effort and relaxed. The tension left him, though he still looked anxious as he peered up at Iris from his upside-down chains. “Iris,” he whispered. “You should leave. You and … your friend.”

  “How do you know me?” Ganymede asked quietly.

  “Prometheus sees the future,” Iris told him. “He probably knew you’d become cupbearer for Z—”

  “Don’t say his name!” Prometheus hissed. “Not here! He often watches this place.”

  Ganymede looked around fearfully. The sun shone like a golden eye high in the heavens, and the broken bones of the mountains stretched far off. He realized how exposed he was, how visible.

  “I’ll keep watch,” Iris said. “Ganymede, ask him now.” She retreated a few steps and fixed her gaze firmly on the sky.

  “Prometheus,” Ganymede began, “I—”

  “—need three hairs to fulfill a vow to Styx,” Prometheus said miserably. “And I’m going to give them to you. You won’t be able to pull them. Use your knife, and be quick.”

  Ganymede hesitated, a little startled. How much did Prometheus know? It was a little frightening standing in front of someone who seemed able to predict his every move. He also felt awful for the titan, bound here in pain, knowing that he’d never get relief. He wanted to strike the chains away and set Prometheus free, no matter what Zeus had decreed, but they had been forged by Hephaestus and locked by the king himself, and Ganymede had no hope of even scratching them.

  “Hurry up!” Iris ordered, still watching the sky. “It’s nearly noon.”

  “Right. Sorry.” Ganymede drew his knife and quickly cut three hairs from Prometheus’s head. His hand brushed against the titan’s skin as he did so, and a new wave of fear swept over Prometheus’s face. Prometheus bit his lip, obviously swallowing a howl of terror.

  The hairs, black and long, curled into Ganymede’s hand, and he stuffed them into his tunic with a feeling of great relief. But he couldn’t leave quite yet. He had to know more.

  “Why do I scare you so much?” he asked. “What did I ever do to you?”

  Prometheus closed his eyes. “It’s all tied up with the reason Zeus bound me here.”

  “I don’t understand,” Ganymede said. A sense of urgency grew in him, one that had nothing to do with the fear of being discovered. This was vitally important. Every bit of his body told him this, even if he couldn’t say why. “You gave humans the gift of fire against the word of Zeus, and he’s punishing you for it. What does that have to do with me?”

  “No.” Prometheus shook his head. “It’s a lie. An excuse. Humans would have discovered fire on their own eventually, and Zeus knows that. He keeps me here for a completely different reason.”

  “What is it?” Ganymede said. “Tell me!”

  “Run!” Iris yelled.

  Ganymede whirled, still on his knees. A black speck—familiar now—had appeared in the sky and was growing larger. The eagle, coasting in for a bloody meal.

  Ganymede cupped Prometheus face in his. Golden tears streamed down the titan’s face. “Tell me!” Ganymede begged. “Hurry!”

  “No time,” Prometheus whispered. “He’ll see you. Go!”

  Iris grabbed Ganymede’s hand and dragged him to his feet. The eagle drew closer. Its wings were visible, and memories of another hilltop flooded Ganymede’s mind. Iris yanked him over the edge of the plateau, and they clung there by their fingertips, just peeping over the top. A small part of Ganymede was aware that he would never have had the strength or stamina to do this as a mortal. Iris flicked a finger, and both of them blended into rock and sky, just as she had done in the palace of Minos.

  “Don’t move,” she whispered. “Don’t even fucking breathe.”

  Ganymede obeyed, unable to take his eyes off the rock where Prometheus was chained upside-down. Prometheus had shut his eyes again, and his expression was filled with a terrible resignation. The eagle cruised in for a landing and touched down directly in front of Prometheus. It was huge, almost as tall as Ganymede. Without pausing, it darted in with its wicked beak and slashed Prometheus open from neck to groin.

  Prometheus screamed, the same high wail Ganymede had heard the day before, but so much louder. Golden blood fountained up into the air and fell like priceless rain. The agonized scream went on and on as the eagle ripped out a beating, glowing heart and snapped it down in two bites. Ganymede almost lost his grip on the side of the mountain. He wanted to flee the awful sight, but he didn’t dare move, or even close his eyes. The stench of gore permeated the mountaintop, and it smelled the same as mortal blood. The eagle reached into the horrible gash again, and tore out Prometheus’s liver, dripping with gold. It bolted that down, too. Prometheus’s screams thinned and died. The eagle screeched once, then unfurled its wings and hopped backward two steps—straight toward Ganymede and Iris, as it happened. It blocked the sight of the gaping wound, and Ganymede felt glad. Then he felt guilty that he felt glad. Prometheus went through this every day. Ganymede could at least stand to watch.

  Ganymede expected the eagle to fly away. It didn’t. Instead, it shifted and shimmered, and then Zeus himself was standing in the eagle’s place. Ganymede suppressed a gasp, and his camouflaged fingers tightened on the gritty edge. Iris nudged him with her foot, also reminding him to keep quiet. Ganymede’s heart pounded so hard, he was afraid Zeus might hear it.

  “It’s time, Prometheus,” Zeus said. He strode forward, knelt, and cupped the titan’s inverted face in his hands just as Ganymede had done moments ago. “Tell me.”

  Prometheus remained mute. He was still breathing, still conscious. Even chained, he was still a god.

  “You’ve held this secret for centuries,” Zeus said. Golden blood dripped over his hands, but he didn’t seem to notice. “It’s time to let it go. Tell it to me now and I swear by Styx I’ll forgive you, release you, heal you.”

  Pain and temptation crossed Prometheus’s face in equal measures. But still he didn’t speak.

  Zeus abruptly jabbed thick fingers into the open wound. “Tell me!” he bellowed. “Tell me now!”

  Prometheus screamed again, and all the air seemed to rush away from the mountaintop. Ganymede felt the tears streaming dow
n his face, but he forced himself not to move. The scream went on and on, then finally stopped. And still Prometheus didn’t answer. Zeus sighed and got to his feet.

  “Tomorrow, then,” he said, with the air of someone who had said it a hundred thousand times before. And then he was gone—no thunderbolt, no shapeshifting. Just gone. Prometheus was left to hang there, dripping golden blood.

  Ganymede and Iris waited to make sure Zeus wouldn’t return, then came out of hiding. Cautiously, they approached Prometheus. The mountaintop was slick with gold. Ganymede forced himself to look at the wound, and was surprised to see it heal a little even as he watched. He touched the spot where the three hairs hid in his tunic. Iris put a hand to her mouth.

  “It’s horrible,” she whispered.

  Ganymede took out the goblet again and held it over Prometheus’s mouth. “Here,” he said.

  “No!” Prometheus’s voice was surprisingly strong. “Don’t! Sometimes … he comes … back. Heal me now … and … he’ll know …”

  The wound gaped like an open mouth, and Ganymede could see bone and meat inside. The sight almost made him pour anyway, then he thought the better of it. Much as he wanted to help, he knew Prometheus was right.

  “Why does he do this to you?” he asked softly. “What does it have to do with me?”

  The strength seemed to be draining out of Prometheus. His eyes slid shut, and Ganymede was afraid he’d lost consciousness, but then he spoke, his voice barely audible. “You know how Zeus … became … king?”

  “Yeah. He killed Khronos, his father.”

  “And … Khronos?”

  “Khronos killed his father Ouranos.”

  “The Fates have decreed … that one day … Zeus will also be slain.” Prometheus took a ragged breath. “Zeus … knows this … and I have … seen …”

  Iris gasped, and in that moment, Ganymede knew what was going on. It slapped over him, a cold, heavy hand. “And you know who is fated to kill Zeus.”

  “… yes. Zeus wants … to know. And if he … learns …” another ragged breath “… who it is … he will do … anything to … destroy his future … killer.”

  Ganymede felt the sky closing in around him like a prison. It moved him, pushed him like a puppet. He knew the awful answer, but still he had to ask the question. The words dropped from his lips like liquid lead. “Who is going to kill Zeus?” he whispered.

  Prometheus sighed. “You are.”

  BOOK 8

  PART VIII

  The wave rushed toward shore, toward me, like a front of soldiers. I spread my arms, ready to let it crash over me, pound me, crush me. My muscles would go limp and let my body wash out to sea to join the kelp and foam. The water would wash my footprints from the sand and leave no trace.

  But the wave crashed early, hit the beach and swirled warm around my shins. The sand shifted a little beneath my bare feet. I saw the world in front of me, sea and sky, earth and air. Two realms, two choices. I could walk into the water or back to the hotel.

  My body burned with pain. The air felt heavy and moist beneath the golden sun, and I was holding up the sky. I felt strangely tall and powerful, like a giant. I could destroy the hotel, and then I wouldn’t have to make the choice.

  Clouds coasted in and covered the sun with feathers. Wind rose and poked at the waves, which ran away like unhappy children. A scoffing laugh choked in my throat. Destroy the hotel. Yeah. I could do that. No problem. Here in the ocean, I was as powerful as a priest, magical as a witch doctor.

  Just for the fuck of it, I waded out into the water up to my chest, clothes and all, letting the blood-warmth wash the stink and sweat of the hotel away. The ocean lifted me up and set me down, swan gentle. I swam in the deeper water a little, then went back into the shallows, still feeling the power of the water.

  A chant of destruction, low and without words, started in the back of my throat and trickled out across the water, causing ripples as it went. I spread my arms wide, let the chant rise like mist, called to the hovering clouds that mantled their dark wings above. Then I started to sing.

  Smash it down

  To the earth

  Wrench it up

  To the sky

  Flood it clear

  To the sea

  Stain the world

  With his blood.

  I sang all eight lines three times—twenty-four lines, which is a two and a four, and two times four is eight—and the wind grew stronger every time I finished a verse. I smelled fish and salt. The air and water grew tense around me, and the wind made my wet clothes snap against my skin. My voice grew stronger and more powerful, and I fucking reveled in it, called on it, and right when I said the word “blood” for the third time, a bolt of lightning smashed into a palm tree less than a hundred feet away. The thunder punched me with a phantom fist, knocked me down with a splash, fed me to the waves. Water moved my stunned limbs around for a moment before I could recover and stand up, spluttering and streaming. I looked at the burned wreck that had been a leafy palm just moments before.

  “Fucking weird,” I said to no one in particular.

  I waded out of the ocean and sloshed back to the nursing home, stopping at the laundromat faucet along the way to rinse the salt out of my hair. Thunder grumbled, and clouds rushed overhead like they were in a hurry, unwilling to drop any rain. My clothes were nearly dry by the time I entered the Pieria. June just about jumped me in the moldy hallway the second I walked in.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she screeched.

  I about pissed myself. No words came.

  “What you’re doing is wrong, don’t you see that?” she said, still screeching. Her voice was cat claws on a glass roof. I thought she was talking about what I had done with the Guys at the Haidou Hotel, and my guts got loose and tight at the same time. How the fuck did she know about them?

  “What do you mean?” I managed to ask.

  Somewhere outside, I heard Phillip shouting, “This is nothing! This will blow through. The real storm is still to come!”

  “Everything repeats itself, boy,” she said. Her cigarette had gone out, but she didn’t seem to notice. “You’ll get every goddam thing you asked for, but did you bother to think of the price other people will pay?”

  “That’s right! Huge! Damn huge.”

  “What other people?” I said. “What price?”

  She jabbed me in the chest with a sharp, withered finger, and for the first time I noticed she had violet eyes. “Everything is happening again. Didn’t you learn anything from the first time, you little snot?”

  I didn’t know what she was talking about, but images of the First Guy—“first time”?—and what he did to me snapped into my head. Her weird violet eyes drilled into me like diamonds, and I had serious freak issues. I fled her, took off running down the gritty hallway and didn’t stop until I got to the bedroom I shared with Irene and Eryx and shoved the crooked door shut.

  There was another mattress in the room—Eryx must have found it somewhere—and it had been shoved up against the first one to make a big bed on the floor. It smelled like old people. Eryx was sitting on it, half propped against one wall. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and the muscles of his chest and stomach showed smooth and flat. Outside the window, the clouds had already passed through, leaving perfect sky behind them and letting late evening sunshine create a crooked square on the floor. Eryx looked over at me, blond hair tousled, a sleepy expression on his face. His eyes looked deep as a blue diving pool. My mug sat on the floor beside him, and it was full of water.

  “Heyyy,” he said, drawing out the word. “Danny-boy.”

  “Hey, Eryx.” I flopped down on the mattress next to him, glad he was there. I didn’t want to be alone. “Fuck of fucking day.”

  “Yeah,” Eryx agreed. “Fuck of a day.”

  I looked at him. “You okay?”

  “Better than ever. It’s all better, Danny. All better.”

  “What the hell are you talking abo
ut?”

  Eryx leaned closer and put an arm around my shoulders. “I’m glad you’re back. Totally glad.” His breath was hot on my ear. “You can’t believe how glad I am.” He rubbed his face against my neck, nuzzling me like a cat, and his skin felt almost feverish. A part of me wanted to pull away, but another part of me raced into overdrive.

  “Where’s Irene?” I whispered.

  “Don’t know,” he whispered back. He stopped nuzzling and clung to me hard instead. I sat there, heart rushing around in circles. This was what I wanted, what I’d dreamed about during so many boy phases. Why was I so nervous? “Jesus, Danny, I never told you this, but I’m so fucking glad you walked into my life. I’m sorry I punched you. I’m sorry I kicked you. I couldn’t say it before because I was too scared, but that all seems so stupid now.”

  He rubbed his palm across my chest, teasing and kneading as if his hand was hungry. “I lied to Dad about you not being home and I took those two guys for you because I thought you were better than me, and I didn’t want to see you wrecked like me.”

  “You’re not wrecked,” I said. “Your life got wrecked. There’s a difference.”

  “You’re so strong, Danny. I don’t know how anyone can be so strong. You got us out of that fucking house, and you got us down here to Florida. And you handle the shit Lucian gives us without cracking. I don’t know how you do it.”

  “I’m not strong,” I said, a little startled. “I’m scared all the time. I don’t what the hell I’m doing from one second to the next. You were the one that found us food on the trip and a place to sleep when we first got here.” I paused, looking for truth. “I’m strong when I’m with you.”

  Eryx shook his head. “I left because you got me started. You’re always looking for something to do next. I just sit and wait, but you do something. You’re like a river that keeps flowing, no matter what.” He kept on touching my chest and stomach. “You were so nice to me, even when I was a total fuck to you. I couldn’t have left that house without you to show me how. Myron and Lucian sell us to those guys, but you know what? Fuck ’em. They can’t touch us where it counts.” He pressed his hand flat against my heart. “Not where it counts.”