by Kieran Scott
I was just about to drown my sorrows in a black coffee when Wallace walked in. Deep within my chest I felt the slightest sparkle of hope. News. At least I was about to get news.
“I’m done,” Wallace announced. “Stick a fork in me.”
My heart sank. “What do you mean, you’re done?”
Wallace plucked the napkin dispenser off the counter in front of me and fiddled with it, pushing the napkins all the way in until they bounced back out again.
“Darla and me? We’re never gonna be together,” he said. “I thought we were from different social worlds? Turns out most people think we’re from two different species. It’s not gonna happen. I already told her I thought she was better off with Orion.”
No. No, no, no. He couldn’t give up now. He and Darla were meant for each other. It was written across their faces whenever they were together. I could feel their connection in my bones. How could they just ignore it? Because other people didn’t approve?
“But Wallace, you can’t let others dictate your life . . . your happiness,” I said desperately. “Please don’t do this. Don’t give up. You have to—”
“I don’t want to talk about it, True,” he said, replacing the napkins with a clatter. “I just came to tell you it’s over. And to order a triple chocolate to go.”
He hazarded a smile. I felt like I was going to throw up. What was I going to do? How was I going to fix this? Gods, if only I had my arrows. Then this would be a done deal, and I’d know I’d done the right thing by matching them. But that was not an option. I needed a new plan. I needed to regroup. I needed to stop hyperventilating.
“True?” Wallace eyed me with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yes. I’m fine.” I took a deep breath. “One triple chocolate, coming up.”
I served Wallace his cupcake, and he headed out just as Tasha came in, tugging off her jacket. Perfect. My replacement. I needed to get out of this place, stat. I needed some air, some time to think. I pulled my phone from my pocket and texted Hephaestus. Tasha was here to relieve me, so it was time to go home. Goddess was in walking distance to the house, but he and my mother had insisted that I shouldn’t walk around town on my own anymore, not after Apollo’s threat. Hephaestus had essentially volunteered to become my driver and bodyguard.
DONE FOR THE NIGHT. CAN YOU COME?
He texted back almost instantly.
FIFTEEN MINS.
I trudged into the back room, where Dominic sat at his desk, crunching numbers with a calculator and pencil. Over in the kitchen I could hear a couple of the bakers laughing and banging around, cleaning up after today’s work and prepping for tomorrow’s. I clocked out on the computer, then headed to the break room to exchange my apron for my jacket and my duffel bag. The bow and arrows clattered around inside it as the door closed behind me.
“Headed out?” Dominic asked, swiveling around in his chair.
“Yep. See you on Thursday.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed at my bag. “You keep bringing that to work. What’s in there, anyway?”
“Just some workout gear,” I told him, patting the side of the black canvas bag self-consciously. “Headed to the gym.”
His eyes traveled suspiciously away from the bag and up to meet mine. I held my breath. He would be well within his rights to look inside the bag. This was his business. I was his employee. He held my gaze for a long ten seconds, and I knew he didn’t believe me. Then, finally, he returned his attention to his ledger.
“Have a good night!” he said, lifting a dismissive hand.
I breathed out. “You too!”
The back door had just slammed behind me when I saw something move out of the corner of my vision, and then I was on the ground. Pain crackled down my right cheek as it collided with the hard asphalt, and I skidded sideways, slamming the top of my head into a solid metal drainpipe. When I looked up, I saw flashing stars and behind them, the hovering figure of my good friend Apollo.
“This ends now,” he growled.
He dragged me to my feet and pulled back a hand, but as he shifted his weight forward, I ducked and spun, getting behind him. I lifted a foot, let out a guttural cry, and kicked him as hard as I could in the small of his back, sending him sprawling face-first on the ground. I turned and lunged for my bag to get my bow, but Apollo grabbed my hair at the top of my head and yanked me backward.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
He flung me away and I faced him, my fingers itching for my bow and arrows, but Apollo stood between me and my bag now. I had no chance of getting to them unless I incapacitated him first.
“I can’t take this place anymore,” he spat, “and as far as I can tell, if you die, I get to go home. So now you’re going to die.”
He attempted a roundhouse kick to my head, but I ducked and swept his standing leg out from under him. His head hit the ground with a crack and he stared at the sky, breathless. Finally he coughed.
“You can’t kill me,” I hissed. “Hera wants me to fight Artemis, not you.”
He laughed through his heaving rasps and brought his hands to his chest. “As if I care what the queen wants.”
He stood up slowly, and I took a few paces back, glancing left and right. My instincts told me to flee, but he would only chase me down, and by then we might be out on the street, sparring in public. I couldn’t have that. I couldn’t put people in danger.
“You’ve been practicing,” Apollo said.
“There you go again,” I said. “Stating the obvious.”
With a sudden growl, Apollo threw himself at me. I tried to duck out of the way, but his shoulder collided with my jaw and he drove me backward into the brick wall, knocking the air out of me. Then, for good measure, he drove his fist into my gut, right in the center of my rib cage. The pain as I tried to suck in air was beyond all comprehension.
“Turnabout’s fair play,” he said in my ear.
I heaved in one breath, finally, and he hit me with a cross punch so hard I heard my cheekbone crack. When I fell sideways, I took the garbage can with me. At that moment, the back door flew open and Dominic stepped out.
“What the hell is—” His eyes widened when he saw me there, lying on my side on the ground with Apollo hovering above me. “What are you doing?” he shouted at Apollo. “Get out of here or I’ll call the police.”
Apollo rose to his full height, which was a good foot taller than Dominic, and sneered. “You dare command me, mortal?”
“Don’t!” I said through my teeth.
“Get the hell out of here!” Dominic shouted again, pulling his phone out and starting to dial.
Apollo looked down at me with an evil smile on. “I suppose we can finish this another time. Looks like it’s going to be even easier than I thought.”
Then he ran off, jumping over the upended garbage can and disappearing around the corner of the building.
“True?” Dominic asked, crouching in front of me. “True? Are you all right? Can you sit up?”
I nodded and, ever so carefully, pushed myself up so that I was leaning back against the wall. I breathed in, but the air got caught inside my tight chest and I coughed, holding on to my ribs as my cheek radiated pain through my skull.
“I’ll get you some ice. And water.” Dominic hopped to his feet, surprisingly spry for a mortal of his age. “Who was that guy?”
A million possible answers flitted through my mind. Old friend. Old enemy. But I wasn’t sure I could explain any of it to his satisfaction, so I simply lifted my shoulders, which hurt like hell.
“No idea,” I lied.
He didn’t believe it. He’d heard what Apollo had said to me. But he let it go. As soon as he was inside, I heard the singular rumble of Hephaestus’s van and allowed myself to go limp. The cavalry was on its way.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
True
I felt the pain in my face before I was even fully awake. Trying to avoid it, I rolled onto my opposite side, and one of my ribs exploded. At least, that was what it felt like. I opened my eyes and winced. In my debilitated state the night before, I’d forgotten to close the curtains on my east-facing window, and the sunlight was blinding. I raised one hand against it and winced. There wasn’t one part of my body that didn’t ache.
Letting out a groan, I rolled onto my back and tried to sit up. My ribs replied with another shock of pain. Everything hurt, but I was going to have to go about my day as if I was right as rain. I had to try to facilitate a reconciliation between Darla and Wallace. Those two were my only hope.
Finally, reluctantly, I opened my eyes and pushed myself up, doing it as quickly as possible, then eased myself back into my pillows. I didn’t want to look at the sand timer, but I sadistically did it anyway. There was less than one quarter of the sand left in the top. I groaned again and looked away. That was when I saw something propped up against my desk chair, and my heart came to a screeching stop.
My quiver. My bow. My arrows. My magical weaponry. It was right there in front of me. This wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.
I closed my eyes again, rubbed them, and blinked. Yep. Still there.
Ignoring the pain, I swung my legs out of bed and hobbled over to the chair. A note was attached to the strap by a black ribbon. It read simply:
All’s fair in love and war. –A
Ares. Of course. He would never be able to bear it if his daughter lost in battle. Or, perhaps, he simply loved me and wanted me to live. Either way, I was grateful for the assistance.
I lifted my bow first, and the familiar, comforting heft of it sent a thrill of pleasure through my body. I clasped the leather handle in my fingers and laughed as they slid right into place, settling into the grooves they’d left after generation upon generation of use. Then I ran my fingers down the string and plucked it, watching it vibrate. I saw myself lounging at my earthen window, piercing the hearts of mortals from far above, inspiring endless love among the masses. My own heart swelled as I remembered what it felt like to be that free, that powerful, that in control.
I was Eros, creator of love on Earth. I was a goddess. For now, anyway.
“It’s good to see you, old friend,” I whispered.
Then I grabbed the quiver and knew something was wrong. It was too heavy. Far too heavy. So heavy it felt like my ribs were cracking again. I sat down on my bed and saw the cause. The quiver was filled with arrows—ten to be exact—but they were not my light-as-a-feather golden arrows, which were used for breeding love and making matches. They were my leaden arrows, the ones I used far less often and certainly never at a clip of ten at a time. These arrows bred hatred.
I took a deep breath and sighed. Of course my father would leave my hatred arrows. This way I could win by death, rather than by forging love.
But it did make sense. It would have been too easy if my golden arrows had suddenly appeared. I could have walked out of this room and made the mailman fall in love with a bus driver and my work here would be done—a slight against our bargain that Zeus would surely notice. Besides, I realized as I ran my fingers over the cold fletching on one of the arrows, these could be helpful too. With these arrows I could end Artemis and Apollo with a mere snap of the string. They were one of the few weapons ever forged that could stop a god’s or goddess’s heart with one strike.
I lay back on my bed again, drawing my bow with me, holding it against my sore chest and ribs. It felt good in my hands. It felt like home. Just clinging to it gave me a surge of white-hot hope.
I could do this. I could survive this. I would prevail.
I heard my mother’s hair dryer roar to life in the bathroom. It was time to get up and move gingerly through my day. I pushed myself out of bed and went to the closet, placing my beloved bow and its evil arrows inside, where they could easily be reached.
Even with my many aches and pains and the memories of my ignominious fight with Apollo last night, I felt better now. Confident. Just knowing my bow was with me was a tremendous boost. Holding it had made me feel myself again. And when I was Eros, Goddess of Love, nothing could stop me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Orion
Mr. Crouch, the photography teacher, had breath that smelled like pea soup. I wasn’t sure I’d ever had pea soup before, but that was the image that came disgustingly to mind every time he leaned in close to me and Darla on Tuesday afternoon. Green, mealy goo. It was too bad they couldn’t have had Greg take these shots, but he was already booked. Right now he was up on the field, getting ready to take the official team pics for football and Boosters.
“Put your arm around her from behind,” Crouch told me, and I watched his stubble-covered Adam’s apple bob over the top of the too-tight collar of his plaid shirt. “Act like you like her.”
Darla and I laughed nervously. He really couldn’t have said anything worse, considering how tense we’d been around each other today. Even after telling Claudia I wanted Darla as my booster, I felt like everything I said or did could be the wrong thing. I’d never had a fight with a girlfriend before, and I didn’t know how to deal, so I’d spent most of the day keeping my mouth shut and smiling, just hoping that before long everything would go back to the way it had been. Easy. Uncomplicated. Fun.
Now I put my arm around Darla and held her close against my chest, her hair tangling on the thick weave of my sweater. It was so awkward, standing here with everyone else, posing. I wondered how the kids who weren’t couples were handling being paired up and asked to grope each other for the camera. Mr. Crouch moved on to Josh and Veronica, who stood behind us in line at the center of the gym.
“See? These two know what they’re doing. Perfectly in sync.”
I felt Darla clench. “You okay?” I whispered.
“Fine.” She turned to smile at me, lost her balance, and brought the very sharp tip of her very high heel down on top of my foot. It hurt. A lot. I broke from the line, hopping like an idiot and cursing under my breath.
“Mr. Floros?” Principal Peterson hovered near the door to the locker room, looking bored. “Are we going to have to be here all day?”
“No. No, sir. I’m fine.” I touched my foot gingerly to the ground and snatched it back up again, then hobbled back over to Darla. One hand covered her mouth.
“I’m so sorry!” she hissed. “Are you okay?”
“M’fine,” I mumbled, forcing a smile as I slid in behind her again. Veronica smirked. Sometimes I really wondered what Josh saw in that girl. Actually, I wondered that every single day.
“As long as you can run this weekend,” Josh joked as the photographer dealt with the seniors.
I clenched my teeth. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Okay, on the count of three, everyone smile their best homecoming smile!” Mr. Crouch backed up with his camera until he was far enough to get the wide shot. He’d clicked off a few when the bell rang. In ten minutes we were going to be late for football practice, which would not make Coach Morschauser happy. To him, homecoming was about the game, not the dance. At this point I kind of wished that were true.
At least we’d gotten out of ninth period for the photo shoot. Art class would’ve been a nightmare. True probably hated me more than ever after being fired as my booster, and I didn’t even want to deal with my arrow painting and what it might mean.
“That’s it! We’ve got it!” Crouch raised his camera in triumph. “Great shot, people. You’re free to go.”
The line of candidates broke up, and the gym filled with conversation and laughter. Darla and I went to the bleachers to pick up our bags.
“So I wanted to ask you . . . what do you want in your spirit basket?” she asked, taking out her phone to make notes.
“Oh, you know what I like,” I
said, recalling, much to my guilt, the day True had told me what she was going to put in my basket and somehow guessed every one of my favorite things.
Darla’s brow knit. “Brownies? Cookies? Candy bars?”
“Sure. That sounds fine,” I said, trying to be diplomatic or whatever as I lifted my football gear onto my shoulder. No rocking the boat for me. “Whatever you think.”
“But I want to get it right for you,” Darla said, following me across the gym like a reporter on a hot story. “It’s my first spirit basket.”
“Darla, honestly. Just get whatever,” I told her. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”
Darla stopped in her tracks. She, Veronica, and Josh stared at me as if I’d just insulted each of their mothers. Obviously, I’d done something wrong. But what? I didn’t want her to stress over something as silly as a spirit basket. What was the problem with that?
“What?” I said, lifting my shoulders. “It’s supposed to be fun. You don’t have to take everything so seriously.”
“I didn’t realize I was such a downer,” Darla said, shoving her phone into her bag. “I thought I was just trying to be a good girlfriend. Or do you still want True to be your booster?”
Right. Okay. Clearly, keeping my mouth shut and smiling had been the right policy.
“Darla. You know I don’t want that.”
I reached for her hand, but she turned away from me and grabbed Veronica. “Come on, V. We’re going to the mall.”
“Don’t you have Boosters?” I asked.
“Yeah, well, suddenly I don’t feel like going.”
Veronica seemed impressed. She shot me a withering glance over her shoulder as the two of them walked away.
“I’m sure I’ll love whatever you make for me!” I shouted after Darla. “Honestly!”
But they didn’t stop. I heard the creak of the gym lobby door followed by its loud, very final slam. Josh gave me this look like, Dude.