Doesn't mean it wouldn't be handy as fuck at the moment.
I watch as she pads over to Iris, curling in a tight little ball, tucked into the curve of Iris's body. She yawns once and then blinks at me, as if to say, go on then. I'll watch her and I smile my thanks at the kitten.
And then I leave.
New Olympus is changing. I didn't expect it, but now--sane and rational and in the wonder of hindsight--it makes sense. The gardens are blooming and I can smell the ripe richness of new growth in the orchards.
The house itself is feeling the effects of having the gods as houseguests. It already is changing, taking on a more Grecian feel, the columns more familiar to a time so forgotten it's a wonder that even we remember. I smile at it. I think the house would be more comfortable on the banks of the Aegean than it would on the icy Pacific northwest.
Still. It is comforting, in a way that going home has not been in centuries, as I drive my bike up the long drive, and park it in the shadow of the house.
New Olympus is an apt name for it. Lightning cracks and I pause, tilting my head in consideration.
Father is pissed, although there could be any number of reasons for why. It could be as simple as that we are shoved together in this house, and he is forced to deal with his brothers again.
Family is a messy thing with us.
The door opens and my sister steps out. She's wearing a long black dress with silver threaded through it to shimmer as she walks, her white blond hair all the paler for the dark color.
It's a long flowing thing that slits to reveal her pale legs as she walks, and I know, instinctively, that it's hunting garb. The kind of dress she can run for days in without her movements being restricted, but were she to stumble into one of her temples, she would still be revered as a goddess.
It's a hunting dress, but it is ceremonial and I shiver as I watch her walking down the stairs toward me, worry on her face.
When my sister nods at tradition like this, people die, or there is something very, very wrong.
"What happened?” I ask, as she comes to a stop in front of me.
"There's been another murder," she says, her voice shaking and her face pale.
It makes sense.
Of course, it makes sense.
Another god is dead.
"Who?" I ask, numbly.
"Hygea.”
I sway. Raw relief almost drops me to my knees. For a moment, as she stood there pale and lovely in her ceremonial dress, I was convinced that Hermes was dead and I wasn't sure how to deal with that. How to grieve when I had just let him back in my life.
"Where were you?" she hisses, stalking closer. Her hounds bound up as I shift, pressing between us and I rub his ears, ignoring the low rumble in his chest.
"I went to get coffee," I shrug. Flash her a smile, absent and artless and she curses low and vicious.
"Gods, tell me you didn't see her."
"Her who?" I ask, blinking, my head tilting.
"Apollo, please," she starts.
Behind her the door opens, and she goes stiff.
"They want to see you."
"Who?" I ask, refusing to look away from her, away from her silvery eyes. Right here, staring at my sister, I am safe, and the world is far away. I don't want to face anything beyond this. I don't want to face my irate family, or the growing grief.
I do not want to see another dead cousin, slit open and drained.
I do not want to accept that it is my fault.
"Apollo, come."
The order rolls like thunder, and the waves and darkness.
I shudder and even though I am a god, I am helpless to ignore that order.
Artemis stares at me, her eyes wide and helpless as I press a kiss to her cheek and shudder under the compulsion. "I'm fine," I whisper. "Sane as you."
Then I follow my father and my uncles deeper into the house. Past the staring uncles and aunts, and my many cousins, all of them dressed for ceremony. I feel, inexplicably out of place in my torn black jeans and band t-shirt with a hole in the neck.
Then Father throws open the doors to the library and I am ushered inside by Poseidon. Hades closes the door behind us, and moves to the bar, pouring a whiskey neat for himself before he settles across from me in a high-backed leather chair.
"Where the fuck were you?" Zeus snarls.
"I wanted coffee. Do you know this house has no coffee? That's a goddamn Greek tragedy." I giggle once, as the sentence rolls off my lips and Hades' lips twitch into an almost smile.
"Don't be cute, nephew," Poseidon snaps. "You were gone and another of our family is dead. Are we to believe that is an accident?"
I shrug, and tug out my cards. Let my fingers play over the edges, shuffle them back and forth, letting the familiar motions sooth my raging temper.
They think I did this?
Father never forgave me for leaving Olympus. For having the prophecy that we would die.
Never mind that I left Olympus to keep that prophecy from being met, that I have spent centuries fucking insane to prevent that from happening.
I am clearly the one responsible because I had the wild and wonderful send of freedom to leave.
Without his permission.
"Believe what you want, Uncle. You all always have. But my history speaks for me. I have never raised a hand against the pantheon. I have done everything in my considerable power to keep the pantheon healthy and whole. Including taking my own gift of prophecy, despite the fact that it meant I lived with my powers bound and on the cusp of insanity for eons."
"And yet you were the only one who was unaccounted for while one of our own was murdered. And your own priestess spoke the prophecy that spelled out our deaths."
"Del was not a priestess," I say, automatically, jumping to her defense without thinking.
"Did you kill her?" Hades asks, point blank.
I twist to stare at him.
"You know damn well that I didn't. But why don't you ask Veritas to verify if I am telling the truth. You know I can't lie to her."
None of them move and I smile, all mad hatter, and even sane, that smile feels familiar and comfortable on my face.
"You want to believe that I am the killer. Nothing I say will change that because you've been waiting to blame me since Del spoke her prophecy. Do what you think is necessary. I'll be doing what I've always done."
"Which is?"
I smile at Poseidon and rise. Because I am a god in my own right and it’s time these half-forgotten bastards remember it. "I'll protect the pantheon."
I ignore the way father shouts for me as I leave the room, and avoid the eyes of my family as I stalk through the halls of the house to where I know I’ll find Artemis.
Her room is still familiar—it hasn’t been shaped by her power too much, although the walls have deepened to a dark forest green that I know she must find soothing.
I feel surrounded by my sister here, and that should soothe me but it doesn't.
Because I am nowhere in this room.
I am nowhere in this fucking pantheon and I should be. This is my family, and I have as much right to be here, to be present as any other.
I flick a finger and my power flares through the room, giving the forest green a golden tint, turning the bed into a boudoir for my Del, sending low Gregorian chants through the room, steady and sonorous and I let out slow breath.
It's not perfect. It is not mine but it feels less like her and more like us.
We've always found the best balance in the in-between--where my sun meets her moon, my healing meets her killing.
She steps into room after me, her steps hitching and then smoothing out as she studies me.
"You okay?"
"Father thinks I'm responsible. Or Poseidon does, and he's listening to the old bastard."
She hums an acknowledgment. "They aren't the only ones."
Trust Artie to be blunt and honest about it. I sigh. "How many?"
"Not many. Aphrodite and Ares. A
few of the cousins. Poseidon's daughters."
"Where does Hades stand?"
"Hermes is whispering in his ear. He doesn't stand against you, for now."
Not as much as I'd like, but it'll do. I nod at her and Artie frowns at me. "You're different."
I shrug. "Not so much."
Her eyes go wide, slowly and I feel her power flare. I push mine out until it feels like the room is bathed in a moonlit noonday sun, and I almost laugh at her frustration. Her stag shifts under her skin and I relax, letting my power drop.
This is what she expects. For me to flare my power, and then fall apart. Lost in visions and stumbling on my words, incoherent as I play the cards over my fingers and toy with a future I can't understand or stop, and whisper about Del, the girl I could never save, no matter how often I tried.
She's watching me, and I feel the breath of it, the quiet tension as she waits for me to shatter into madness.
When did my twin sister stop believing in me?
“Do you remember the year we went to Olympus? Mother took us there and disappeared and Hermes picked on us, and Aphrodite was a bitch. Do you remember how horrible it was?"
Artemis freezes and I smile. "I remember that. All these years, and all the madness. That's one of my favorite times. That awful fucking year, because I knew that you always had my back. No matter what the hell happened in Olympus, you were there and you weren't gonna let the court swallow me up. You kept me human."
I don't say what she would.
That we aren't human and never have been. That pretending is dangerous.
We aren't. Del never let me forget that we weren't, either. But I think that forgetting our humanity was the worst mistake the pantheon ever made.
We were the gods, the ones who saved the world from the Titans. We should have protected them. Instead we ended up arrogant and hiding in our fortress above the world, we ended up hating each other and using the humans as our pawns, and cursing the very best they had to offer.
We were. Still are. Shitty gods.
"Do you think it'd be better for us to die off?" I ask and Artie gasps, a shocked little noise that stings deep.
Del would have understood that question. She would have cocked her head and studied me with those brilliant, intense eyes and she'd nibble her lip and let the question play out. She wouldn't use her powers to play out where the question could go. She'd answer as a friend and confidante, my favorite girl.
The very best of my girls.
She would be laughing and sad, her eyes shimmering with tears, to know that I've made a new girl. That my power is filling her up and shaking her foundations.
But she wouldn't be ashamed of me.
Del never had any time or tolerance for my self-pity and my perchance for brooding. She'd tackle me on the bed and blow her opium in my face and writhe against me until I was pulled from my thoughts and into the moment and I'd hold her close.
"Olympus can have you back tomorrow," she whispered. "Tonight be a man."
Sometimes, she'd wrap herself in heavy robes and I'd slip her away from the temple, and into the streets of Delphi.
She took to it like breathing, lit up with wide-eyed wonder as I led her through the market and down to where the Aegean lapped at the shore, and she finally looked at me.
"You don't have to be afraid of your power, Apollo. There is little point in fearing it. You can't control what you're afraid of and you desperately need to control your power."
I wonder if that's what she would say now.
To let go of my fear and hold on to my control.
I wonder if she would use her power to find out who the actual fuck is killing my family or if she would smile soft and cryptic and say, Not yet, Father. You will learn more on your own and the rest I will tell you soon.
She always said that when I wanted answers and she decided that I wasn't ready for them.
It was one of the many annoying things I loved about her.
“Apollo?” I blink at my sister and shake myself out of my memories.
Go to her, Apollo.
Del has never steered me wrong, even when I was furious with her prophecy because she was dooming my family and me.
It’s not her fault I ignored her warnings and tried to ignore her prophecy for so fucking long.
I should probably have listened and stopped fighting her damn prophecy few hundred years ago. I snort softly and Artie makes low questioning noise in her throat.
“Nothing,” I murmur in answer. “I’m just thinking. I’m a fucking idiot.”
She blinks at me, and then shifts, nervously. “Apollo, where were you last night?”
I grin at her, “I was with Iris.”
Her eyes are impossibly wide, and her skin is pale. So fucking pale and she looks furious and scared and worried. “What the hell did you do, Pollo?”
“You know it was inevitable,” I whisper. “I have the cat. The dead are piling up. It was only a matter of time before she woke up screaming, sister.”
She sways, just a little. “You made a new Oracle. Why?”
I shrug. Tell her the truth. “I didn’t intend to. It just sorta happened.”
Her eyes bulge in their sockets and she jerks forward a step. “You made an Oracle without intention? How is that even possible?”
I shrug. The truth is I don’t know. “I need to go back to her. You know she’s in a bad place right now. Del is keeping her company until I get back, but she’s a fucking kitten and I left her alone with a new Oracle.”
“What will you call her?”
I blink at her, because she has a name. Iris. Artemis knows that. “You’ve always named your girl Delphi. A long fucking line of them, and they were all the same. Will she be Delphi?”
A shiver chases it’s way down my spine and I shake my head.
Because Del is my Delphi, and Iris…
“She’s different,” I say, hoarsely.
Different and same and her very own name.
Oh gods, I am so very fucked. I think I see pity in Artemis’ eyes and she steps to the side. “Get out of here but hurry back. Hermes and I will keep your absence as quiet as possible but it won’t last, brother.”
I nod and brush a kiss over her cheek and then I’m out the door and the other gods have all retreated, to plot and snub each other, to tend ancient, petty arguments that don’t matter because we are dying.
I want to stand in the middle of the main hall and scream for them all to look at the facts and come together, for once.
They think I’m insane. I could probably even get away with it.
I don’t. I leave instead.
Chapter 12.
There's something wrong.
I know that.
My family is dying. Being killed by...gods only knows because that wasn't something Del saw fit to include in her prophecy when my life spiraled so completely out of control.
And yet....
I'm leaving them.
I care.
Of course, I care.
But it's a distant sort of caring. The kind that is more habit than actual concern. I worry for my family because I have to worry for my family.
Even when I left Olympus, I cared.
It's why I left, because Del saw that we would die, and that I would be the reason we did.
But for eons, the only company I've had is my twin and the occasional appearance of my cousin. And for all of that, I never stopped thinking about them. My family is cruel and petty and capricious and arrogant in ways that humanity couldn't even fathom.
But they were mine and in my mad, distant way, I loved them.
Which is why leaving should give me pause. There are two dead in less than a week, and I'm leaving again like nothing has happened.
Distantly, I am aware that something about that is wrong. That my concern should be with Olympus more than it is with Iris and Del.
I just can't bring myself to change that.
Still. It sits strange, a lump of une
ase and awareness that I am doing something strange and out of character, leaving my family for a girl I barely know.
She is mine, irrevocably.
But still. What do I know of her? That she plays guitar and sings like a siren, that she’s wild and free in a way I haven’t seen in too long, and that her brother is dying.
I frown.
That will need to change. Maybe I’m going about this the wrong way. But I need to know my girl. I smile and push the bike a little faster, eager suddenly to reach her.
My apartment looks, surprisingly, the same as I left it.
Del is curled in a ball on the bed, and she glares at me, her little eyes narrowed in angry concentration.
Iris is…not on the bed. I shift and look around the empty room and only relax when I hear the sound of the shower.
She’s crooning, a soft noise that reaches down and grabs at me. I lean my head against the door and she pauses in the middle of her song. Then it resumes, slow and steady and I smile.
Let it wrap around me.
I didn’t realize how tense I was, until she’s singing, and I’m listening to her.
It’s a thousand miles away from Del and my temple.
It’s a thousand lifetimes and a million mistakes. But listening to her sing softly, it feels remarkably like coming home.
I didn’t realize how much I missed it, until I’m here, listening to her hum, off-key and still lovely and so fucking lost in her own self.
If there was any doubt about who Iris was, it’s gone.
I scoop Del into my lap and pick up my guitar and settle next to the door, leaning against it and picking out a quiet accompaniment to go with Iris's soft croon. I can almost hear the smile in her voice when it climbs, meeting my soft strumming.
I want to drag her out of the shower, want to drag her to me and kiss the babble from her lips and smooth the worried wrinkled frown from her brow.
I want to see her eyes cloudy with Sight and watch them brighten and clear as she smiles at me.
Time. Time. Give her time and space.
Del always dealt with my Sight differently. Sometimes by running, sometimes by shutting down completely, turning into little more than a shell of the girl I was so used to seeing.
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