She moved the sword into the light of Theo’s flashlight beam.
He whistled. “No oxidation, no nicks.” He reached to touch the edge with his finger, leaving behind a bright drop of blood. “Could’ve predicted that,” he said ruefully, sucking the wound.
“Divine weapons don’t rust the way normal ones do,” she explained. “This wasn’t made by the Smith, but by Poseidon himself. Forged in the heat of an underwater volcano, or so Orion told me once.”
“Awesome. But you’re the Bearer of the Bow and the Hurler of Javelins. Wielder of Swords, not so much. And without Prometheus around to breathe his special divine-weapon-pixie-dust on me, I’ll look like a blindfolded toddler whacking at a piñata if I try to use it. So what are we going to do with it? You going to just toss it, javelin-style?”
“You clearly know nothing about javelins … or swords,” she said with a sigh. “I’m not exactly sure what we’ll do. But any divine weapon is better than no divine weapon. A normal blade would never hold up in a fight against Mars’s spear or Poseidon’s trident.”
She shoved the sword into a heavy canvas tote bag. Next, she added an old quiver and the few unbroken arrows from the cache on the floor. No gold ones left, and no bow to shoot them, but they were weapons nonetheless.
Theo watched her skeptically. “And how are you going to use the sword, or the arrows, with only one arm?”
“That, my friend, is the one problem I know how to solve.”
She slung the tote bag over her shoulder and retrieved her WNBA New York Liberty cap from the floor where it’d fallen during her fight with the flying Corvus. She pulled the brim low over her eyes. It felt like a warrior’s helm—far better than any crescent moon diadem. She was ready for battle.
Selene led Theo down to the bank of the Hudson. Riverside Park lay nearly empty. Most of the city’s denizens were either home for a Christmas Eve meal, out-of-town visiting relatives, or lounging on a beach in Florida for the week. No one felt the need to go for a walk in the darkened park, especially on a night when the temperature hovered in the teens. The cold whipped through Selene’s leather jacket, surprising her with its bite. Her exhaustion made her more susceptible to such mortal annoyances. She could only hope her ability to heal wouldn’t be affected as well.
Theo’d retrieved his parka from her house to replace the borrowed wool greatcoat. She’d been keenly aware of his presence since kissing him on the sidewalk. It felt like the first week they’d met, when she noticed every step he took, every time he caught her eye. For all the uncertainty about their future, she knew now, without a doubt, that he loved her. His simple declaration—devoid of Flint’s brooding or her own angst—felt like a life jacket in the midst of a storm, something that could keep her afloat even as the rest of the world roared into chaos.
They reached the water’s edge, and Selene hopped down onto the boulders. Ice chunks floated in the river. This is not going to be pleasant, she realized. But she didn’t have a choice. She dropped her bag and shrugged off her jacket. She reached to pull off her flannel shirt, but couldn’t get it unbuttoned with one hand.
“Here.” Theo took off his gloves. She let him unfasten the shirt, starting at the bottom and working his way to the top. His knuckles brushed against the sides of her breasts, and she knew that he felt it too, this heightened connection. Despite the cold, she could feel the heat radiating from beneath his coat. He let his fingers linger at her collarbone before he lifted the shirt free of her arms. She stood in only a sleeveless undershirt, the cold sending tremors across her flesh.
Apollo’s words came back to her, so clear she wondered if he watched her now from another world, whispering memories in her ear. I try to give her every part of myself, he’d said of poor dead Sophie. Body and soul. That was the love that had kept him together before the Host had ripped him apart.
Selene glanced up and down the path—no one was coming.
“Take the undershirt off, too,” she said softly.
Theo smiled. “Is this an early Christmas present?”
“This is the only way I know to get my arm healed quickly.” She tried to sound stern.
Theo pulled the shirt over her head, careful not to tug at the bandage on her back. With her left hand, she reached behind for the clasp to her bra, but Theo beat her to it. Next, the zipper of her pants.
She sat down on the rock and lifted a foot so he could pull off her boots. Removing her pants presented more of a problem—she rolled onto her shoulders, wincing as her wound scraped against the rock, and Theo slipped them down her hips and over her feet. She stood once more, hooked her left thumb into the waistband of her underwear, and kept her eyes on Theo. He slipped his hand along her other hip, pushing the fabric clear until she could step free. She’d never been helpless to undress herself before—she was surprised to find she didn’t mind. Lastly, she took off her baseball cap. She didn’t need to—in fact, she could use the meager warmth it provided—but she wanted him to see all of her.
“Is this some new form of torture?” he asked, his voice low, his gaze roaming her body before latching on to her eyes. “Because this is more painful than a branding iron.”
He took a step forward as if to fold her into his arms.
“Hold on,” she said. She turned her face to the moon, which had once moved at her command. It hung in the eastern sky, a full orb of icy light. Listen to me now, she prayed. I summon you, Moon and Stars. Forest and River. Lend your strength to the Goddess of the Wild, the Mistress of the Moon, the Lady of Trees. Her body tingled in the moon’s rays, and when she looked down at her bare flesh, it glowed. Still, she couldn’t move her right arm more than a few centimeters.
She stepped down into the water, chunks of ice knocking against her bare shins.
Theo gave a worried hum, but she kept going, submerging herself to the shoulders. Her trembling increased until she shook like an epileptic. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the numbing pain. River that protects my island, she begged silently. Border of my realm, inexorable flow from mountain stream to broad expanse, let your pure waters heal me. Suddenly, the shivering stopped, and a sudden flush of heat warmed the skin of her back and arms.
“Come out,” Theo said with a groan. “If I have to watch this much longer, I’m going to come in there with you, and you’ll feel awful when I freeze solid.”
Her eyes snapped open. She spoke without thinking. “You can come join me if you want to.”
“I have a better idea.” He grabbed her left hand and pulled her back onto the rocks. She stood dripping like a siren. Then she raised her healed right arm and used it to grab the front of his parka. Theo crushed her against his chest, his hands running across her back, through her hair, his mouth hungry on hers.
He slid his hands lower, beneath her hips, and lifted her off her feet. Her legs wrapped around his waist, squeezing so tight he moaned with something between pain and desire.
She moved her mouth from his and whispered into his ear. “With what we’re going up against … this may be our last chance.” Leave with no regrets. Apollo’s words sang though her mind. No regrets. She raised a hand to his lips before he could protest. “It’s now or never, Theodore.”
He pressed a kiss against her palm then put her down. He ripped off his parka and laid it on the frigid granite beneath them. They knelt together on the ground, and Selene fumbled off his layers of clothing, anticipation and urgency making her awkward. But not fear, she marveled. Not nervousness. She’d lost her twin. Losing her virginity seemed paltry in comparison.
When she dragged the shirt from his torso, she saw the Mercury brand on his chest, its edges red and angry. A permanent reminder of all he’d endured for her.
For now, for this one moment, she could show him how much his sacrifices meant. She could allow him into her heart, her body—not for the sake of gratitude, but for joy. An emotion she’d thought she’d never feel again. Yet now it lay just within reach, shining in Theo’s eyes.
> She pulled his naked body down on top of hers, and he ran his mouth across the pulse of her throat, the slope of her breast, the plane of her stomach. With her body thrumming, he lifted her from the ground and slipped beneath her, so his own back pressed against the stone and she lay above him. “Easier for you this way,” he murmured, shifting her hips into place above his.
She leaned her hands on his shoulders and stared down at him. He reached to tuck the black curtain of her hair behind her ear. His face was grave, intense, tight with need. “This is how I always imagined you,” he whispered, “making love to me in a moonbeam.” Then, suddenly, he was grinning. “But you know … I always thought it’d be a little warmer.” She threw back her head and laughed, and at that moment, she joined herself to him. The pain was sharp, but fleeting. The bliss lasted far longer.
Theo didn’t feel the cold. At least, not at first. Then, as their body heat receded and the wind picked up, his teeth started chattering next to Selene’s ear. She laughed and rolled off him. In a night of terrors and wonders, her honking laughter was perhaps the most sublime thing of all.
They struggled back into their clothes. Selene retrieved her bag with the sword and arrows, jammed her New York Liberty cap back on her head, then glanced up at the moon. “Styx,” she muttered. “Only a few hours left before midnight. The sword’s not going to do us much good if we don’t figure out where we’re going.”
Theo zipped up his parka and pulled on his gloves, slapping his hands together until the feeling returned. His mind wheeled joyfully from one imagined future to another—Selene beside him as they visited the ancient sites of Rome … as they sat curled together beside the turquoise waters of the Aegean … as they walked down an aisle with their friends looking on, her hair garlanded with flowers. They hadn’t used a condom, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to worry. If she gets pregnant, he mused, would that be so awful? A little DiSilva-Schultz hemitheos running around?
“Theo?” she prompted.
“Hm? Oh, right, find out where we’re going …” Even the reminder of the confrontation ahead couldn’t wipe the grin from his face. “No problem.” Tonight, he felt there was no enemy he couldn’t defeat, no mystery he couldn’t solve. “We need another New York landmark. One that has something to do with the ascension of Mithras in the Sun’s chariot. And a place that relates to whichever god they’re going to sacrifice tonight.”
“The Pater won’t choose Dash or Philippe for the ceremony. He’ll kill them anyway—just to have them out of the way—but they can’t be the real sacrifice. It would take too much time to break them, although I’m sure he’s trying—I haven’t had any hallucinations since we left the planetarium, so he must be using the poppy crown on his new captives. But for tonight, he’ll just use the Fire-Bringer. The ultimate willing sacrifice.”
“What better place to kill Prometheus than beneath his own statue in the Rock Center skating rink?” he offered as they trotted toward the park exit.
She shook her head. “Christmas Eve? The rink’s open until midnight and everyone wants to skate beneath that damn tree. I don’t think so. And the statue has nothing to do with the Sun.”
“Maybe we need a site with a more direct Jesus connection. A church perhaps.”
“Possibly, but their Jesus isn’t exactly the one we’re used to from the crucifixes. I saw him through Gerry’s eyes when I touched her mind. He wore a cloak of stars and the seven-rayed crown of Sol Invictus.”
Theo suddenly grabbed her arm and spun her toward him. He was staring above her head.
“What?” she asked.
“New York landmark. Seven-rayed crown of the Sun. The Fire-Bringer who grants hope and free will to mankind. A place closed and unguarded only one day a year—Christmas.” He pulled off her hat and held it before her face. “We know where to find them, Selene.” She followed his finger to stare at the logo on the cap—the Statue of Liberty stared back.
Chapter 41
PERSUADER OF ANIMALS
On West Twenty-third Street, Hippo tumbled out of the minivan taxicab as soon as the door slid open, ripping her leash from Ruth’s hands.
Selene went down on one knee to hug the dog close, realizing how much emotion she’d always held back from those who loved her—not just tonight, but every night. Now, she buried her face in the dog’s rough fur. “I love you, girl,” she murmured. Words she still hadn’t said to Theo, although from the glow in his eyes, it seemed he thought she had. She straightened up; the mild ache between her legs made her blush.
The scents of the city were strong in her nose, her body felt limber and strong, she could read Hippo’s affection and loyalty in the dog’s stance and smell. Bathing in the river had given her strength. Or perhaps renouncing her identity as the Chaste One had actually heightened the rest of her epithets rather than—as she’d always feared—diminishing them. Or maybe she was just a woman who was finally unafraid.
Gabriela followed Ruth from the cab. From the bulge in the pocket of her jacket, Selene knew she still carried the Glock. Gerry Hansen climbed out next, her hands tied before her.
Gabriela put a hand on the captain’s elbow. “You asked for her, so I brought her, but I think you’re loca. She’s too dangerous. Why not just leave her tied to Ruth’s bed? No one else is using it for anything more important.”
“Hey,” Ruth protested mildly.
“She’s a hostage,” Theo explained.
Gabriela’s eyes widened. “Now we’re talking. How does it feel, Captain, to have your life in danger for a change?”
“I will be there at the turning of the Age,” the policewoman replied. “That’s all that matters to me.”
“You’re going to be disappointed.” Selene felt only pity. Geraldine Hansen, so strong, so smart … so deluded. “Jesus won’t rise again tonight.”
The captain’s chin tilted defiantly. “How do you know?”
“Because Jesus was always just a man. A mortal preacher. A rebel. Not a god. He died on that cross, Gerry. He’s long gone.”
“He’s the son of God the Father. You of all people know that’s possible.”
Selene sighed. “Maybe you’re right,” she said, throwing up her hands. “Maybe your god came down in a beam of light like my own father did to impregnate some virgin. Maybe Jesus was a hemitheos. But whatever he was, or is, whether he exists or not, the version of him that could arise tonight will be something different. Something created by a cult that traffics in murder and madness. Is that the god you want? Is that the one you’ve worshiped? You don’t really know who you’ll be bringing back.”
“You’ve seen the worst this city, this country, this world has to offer. Don’t you think we should at least try to change it?” Despite the smoky rasp of her voice, Gerry looked like her younger self for a moment—full of hope and passion.
“Captain Hansen,” Theo broke in. “How many immortals have you known? Besides Selene.”
Gerry narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ve been tending Prometheus for decades.”
“Then you know that they might have some strange powers, and their understanding of the world isn’t quite the same as ours, but other than that, they’re basically as human as you or I. They get exasperated, scared, tickled, depressed.”
Her mouth was a thin, hard line. “Where are you going with this?”
“If you bring Mithras-as-Jesus into the world, he’ll be a person. Just like Selene. Just like us. There’s a reason, I think, that the ancient Hebrews didn’t give their god a face—or even a name—and why that god went on to dominate three of the world’s great religions. Because only a god with no physical being can embody all the hopes and dreams of his worshipers. Not just three aspects, but infinite ones. If you trap your god on earth, all that immensity becomes just a single man, shivering in the cold and wondering where his next sandwich comes from.”
Gerry listened. She even seemed to hear. But she’d held on to a certain kind of faith for a very long time. “You will se
e. The world will see.”
A sudden clatter from the back of the cab drew Selene’s attention. Gabriela and Ruth struggled to unload a pile of spokes and metal poles that, somehow, metamorphosed into a wheelchair by the time they got it on the sidewalk.
“He told us how to make it,” Ruth said, sounding more than a little overwhelmed. “Bicycle wheels and my kitchen chair and a pole lamp and … everything else in my apartment.”
A pair of withered legs swung down from the open hatch of the minivan. Ruth hurried over, and she and Gabi helped ease Flint out of the cab and into the wheelchair.
He slumped forward in the seat, his dark eyes peering up at Selene, one arm pressed against his stomach as if to hold back the pain.
“You do not look ready for this,” she chided him.
“You’ve got no one else to back you up.”
Selene’s temper flared. “What do you mean, no one else?” She jerked a thumb at her lover. “Who do you think that is?”
Flint’s brows lowered. “He can’t understand the resurrection of a god. He can’t understand you.”
To Selene’s surprise, it was Ruth who jumped to Theo’s defense. “From what I understand, Theo was the one who realized the connection to this Mithras character. And snuck into their secret hideout.”
“Yeah, pendejo,” Gabriela interjected. “And he figured out about the Statue of Liberty. What have you done lately besides show up at the planetarium and get wounded while Theo and—let’s not forget—I rescued Selene.”
Winter of the Gods Page 39