I never really knew what to expect until it was upon us, but I learned very quickly to let her have space and time.
She had to come to accept her Sight without my help.
It wasn't something I could make easier.
So I sit outside the bathroom and Del curls up in my lap and sleeps while I play the guitar and the steam seeps under the door and Iris hums softly to herself. I sit there, my hands clenched on my guitar, the strings silent and my head down, when she sobs.
I sit there and stroke Del's head and she is the only one who knows that my hands are shaking, when Iris screams and her voice breaks, babble and senseless words that are prophecy.
I sit there until the sun begins to set and I wonder if I will need to stay here all night as well.
When my head thumps back, exhausted, on the door. That's when she moves.
The water goes silent first, and then I hear the soft whisper of her moving, her skin brushing against the worn towel I had on the sink. The rough stretch of fabric as she dresses. Wet hair slapping bare skin and the delicate pad of her bare feet on the wet tile before the door handle squeaks alarmingly and she pulls it open and peers down at me in all her wet hair, red-eyed glory.
She looks, adorably, like a drown rat.
And still lovely.
I smile up at her.
"Hello, Iris," I murmur, and Del peeks up at her, mewing in curious greeting.
"What," she asks, her voice shaky and rough from screaming and crying, "the fuck did you do to me?"
I blink at her, because of all the things I expected her to ask, that was the least of them.
"Apollo. That's your name. I fucked you and now the entire city is lit up like some kind of psychic Christmas tree and I can see every fucking possible future there ever was. Do you have any idea how fucking trippy that is? I feel like my head is splitting open and I'm being yanked into a hundred-thousand pieces."
I shift and she groans, her eyes clenched closed as the threads that wrap around me twist tighter and flare in her vision.
I know what she's seeing. I know that she's almost blinded by the brightness that is my lifelines.
She's a human girl, after all, and I am a god. She might be my chosen, but she will never be able to look at my lifelines without it burning, too bright painful.
"Don't look at me," I murmur, and she huffs angrily, but obediently directs her gaze away from me, to the kitten in my lap and she snarls softly.
"Why does the cat have no threads?"
I glance at Del. "Does she not?" I ask, startled.
How did I miss that? Was I really so lost in my own madness that I didn't realize that the cat had no destiny?
She frowns at me. "What the fuck does it mean, that she's got no magic light show?"
I ignore her question. "You asked what I did. I need you to understand that I couldn't have done this to you without your consent. I never would have. I don't force my gift where it's not wanted."
Well. There was that one time, with Cassandra, but that was complicated and I still feel guilty for it.
That was more about my aunt than it was Cassandra.
It wasn't a good time in our collective history, and certainly not in mine.
"Apollo!" Iris shouts, and Del's claws dig into my thigh, jerking me out of my memories and to my current Oracle, whose standing in front of me still, her hair dripping into her t-shirt, fury in her eyes.
So strange. Del always smiled. Loved to make me happy. If there was anything that she lived for it was my happiness. Iris looks like she'd just as soon slit my throat as make me happy and I'm not completely convinced she couldn't do it.
I grin and she growls, low in her throat. "What the fuck did you do?"
"I'm Apollo, Iris. I never lied to you." You are one of the only ones I didn't lie to. "But this--what's happening to you. I didn't intend that. I have fought for eons to prevent this very thing."
Her eyes go unfocused as she stares at me, and her eyes squint as she stares at me, and her hands clench and unclench involuntarily at her sides.
"You were mad. The mad god. They laughed and the Huntress wept and you were so fucking broken, Apollo, how could you do that? How could you--" she shudders, swaying and I reach for her, taking her by the hand and drawing her down to hover over me. Her hands are shaking. "How. Why? You were so strong. The strongest of Olympus. Why would you throw that away? Why would you embrace your madness?"
She's half present, and half gone, so lost to visions I could dance naked through the room and it wouldn’t truly register.
"It's beautiful," she whispers, and I hum an agreement, tugging her against me, tucking her head under my chin and letting her sigh as she relaxes against my chest. "It's so fucking pretty. I want to play with the threads," she whispers.
"You can't," I murmur, tugging her hands down, kissing them and then tucking them in her lap, between her knees. "Those are lives, sweetheart. You don't get to play with lives. You only get to observe them."
Iris surfaces, long enough to frown at me, her pretty face a mask of outrage. "I am not a watcher, Apollo. And don't think you're getting out of explaining this shit. I know this is your fault."
I smile reassurance and she huffs, grumpy, against my lips before she kisses me and shudders, the possibilities swinging hot and heavy around us. This close, her power so wide open, I can feel it. I can see the kaleidoscope colors, all purple and greens, scarlets and gold and the occasional splash of black.
She smiles and hums as I watch the city, the tiny coffee shop where Lily is working and the hospital where Heath is sleeping.
"He hates it here," she whispers into my ear and I know that she knows I'm following along with her, tagging along as she takes in the shifting beauty of the city. "I want to take him home," she adds, her voice mournful.
I'm silent.
I don't want to be the one who tells her that she doesn't have a home now. That she may never have one again, aside from the one at my side.
She frowns as she stares at her brother, and I see the madness slide away, the visions slide away and her frown depends.
“Iris?” I murmur, and she shakes her head. Her eyes are impossibly wide when she blinks free of the vision and we tumble into ourselves in my bedroom.
“Apollo,” she gasps.
Ah.
“He’s fine, sweetheart.”
“He’s dying.”
I shake my head. “He was. I am not just the god of the sun and prophecy,” I say, gently.
She stares at me, her eyes impossibly wide and searching.
“I’m the god of healing, sweetheart. And you wanted him healed.”
She makes a tiny noise, a little half-there sound, before she kisses me. It would be easy. And while her lips play over mine and her body settles against me, all sweet, warm heat and a tongue that teases with lazy strokes, dipping into the heat of my mouth and tasting me.
I almost forget.
She's writhing against me, her hips rolling in these tight little circles and I want to shove her off of me, pin her down and slam into her. I want to remember what she tastes like and feels like, when she's wrapped around me and I am sane, and there is nothing but my own guilt keeping us apart.
I almost forget that I can't, because there is still too much that she doesn't know, too much at stake.
I clench my hands on her hips, dragging her tight against me and rocking up into her, swallowing down the plaintive little whimpers she's making, because they taste so fucking good. I groan and lick into her mouth and she whimpers and grinds down against me.
"Apollo," she gasps, her hands tugging at my hair and I laugh, low and throaty and nip at the line of her jaw. A shudder runs through her as she tips her head back and groans, this wild, sexy noise that almost has me coming in my pants.
"Want you, Pollo," she whispers and I shake my head. I feel the hurt curl through her a heartbeat before she retreats, rocking backwards a fraction and I swear a little. Drag her back.
&
nbsp; "I want to fuck you, Iris. But you aren't some girl I'm going to fuck and throw away and I think that we should probably have a conversation at some point. Preferably before I've got my dick in you."
She grins at me, her eyes laughing and wicked. "You don't think we can talk and fuck at the same time?"
I laugh and shift, dumping her out of my lap with a low yelp. "Definitely not," I say firmly.
"You should call Heath," I say, softly and her eyes narrow. Watching me, and the crazy is beginning to seep back in. I reach for her hand and squeeze it in one hand. "Here." I press a small round pill in her hand. "This. This will help."
"Help what?" she asks, arching an eyebrow at me.
"Call your brother," I say again, and I sit back. Waiting. Patient.
She frowns at me and nibbles at her lip, but she picks up her cell phone and dials.
A nurse answers. "Heath Greene’s room," she answers briskly.
"Hey, Lyndsay. It's Iris."
"Iris! Oh my god, sweetie, we've been calling for hours. What the hell happened to your phone?"
She frowns. "I think it's dead. Why? What happened?"
A rough voice is arguing and then, "Hey sis. Get your ass down to the hospital, ok?"
"Heath?" She whispers and he laughs, soft.
"I'm here, sis. C'mon. It's not bad."
Her gaze drifts to me, and she says, her voice shaking. "I'm in the middle of something."
"Lily mentioned you vanished with a mysterious boy last night. Will I like him?"
She laughs then, low and throaty and it's teasing and adorable. "You'll want to fuck him," she says, and my head snaps up.
I've fucked twins before. Usually sisters. Would I fuck my Oracle and her brother, the one whose health bought my girl's sanity and brought her to me?
Yes. I'd fuck them both in a fucking heartbeat.
"You're giving that idea some serious consideration," she says, as I sit there, staring at nothing. I shrug. No point in lying. She'll read the truth in me, either way.
"I want to make you happy, sweetheart. If making you happy means I fuck your brother, I'll do it. It wouldn't be the first time I've fucked a man to make my Oracle happy."
She blinks at me. Blinks again. Opens her mouth to say something and decides against it. Muttering to herself, she shoves to her feet and starts to do her hair and gives me a petulant frown. "You are a very strange man, Apollo."
I smile.
Not a man at all. And she'll learn that, all too soon.
We get to the hospital just after lunch, and Iris is, shockingly, not falling apart. She is swaying softly at my side, and humming under her breath, playing a beat over my fingers where hers are tangled.
We stop at the front desk, and she gets directions to the room her brother’s been sent to and when she moves, she’s almost pulling me down the empty hallway.
“He was in ICU,” she whispers and I glance down at her. Her eyes are hidden behind heavy glasses and an oversized hat, but I can hear the excitement in her voice. “Why was he moved?”
“You’ll need to talk to his doctor, ma’am.”
She snorts at that, but tugs me deeper into the hospital.
Lily is standing outside a room, halfway down the hall, and my grip on Iris tightens. "Sweetheart," I whisper and she groans, tugging against my hand grumpily.
"I know. They can't know I'm batshit and seeing the world lit up like fucking fireworks. Trust me. I'll keep a lid on it." She twists her hand free and pats me on the cheek. "I'm not sure I want to explain why fucking the nice boy from the coffee shop managed to fuck me up so thoroughly, so I think I'll keep my shit together and save that for another day? You've got nothing to worry about, Apollo."
She smiles and it's bright and almost sane.
Almost. But I let her go and she almost skips away from me to where her sister is standing.
Lily's gaze darts to me, briefly, and then back to her sister. "Really, Iris?"
"Do you have something interesting to tell me or is today all about my bad life choices?" Iris asks, poking out one hip and crossing her arms.
Lily makes a face, but nods. "He wants to talk to you," she says simply. Iris shoots a nervous look at me, and then she's darting into the hospital room and I’m left outside with Lily and a shit ton of worry because what the hell is happening in that room?
I bite my lip and shift on my feet, wanting to push past Lily and grab Iris in my arms.
I can’t protect her, can't buffer her from the madness that threatens, if I'm not with her.
I can't do it that well, if I am, but at least when I've got her close, I can shove my power into her just as fast as the stream of visions and it can do something to combat the crazy.
"What did you do to my sister?" Lily asks, and I go still, my eyes wide and staring at her.
"She's never been the kind to take one night stands out for a test run the next day. And she did one better with you. She brought you to meet Heath. She's never done that."
I shrug. "I gave her a ride."
Lily shakes her head. "No. That's not enough for Iris. You did something to my sister and if I find out you hurt her, I swear to god, I'll cut your balls off and feed them to you on a fucking bagel, do you get me?"
I blink at Lily.
She just threatened me.
A fucking god, and she's scowling at me still, all fierce rage and over-protective instincts firing.
I smile at her.
"I'm not interested in hurting her, Lily. You don't have to think I have good intentions when it comes to Iris. I don't expect you to trust me. But she does, and I do think you should trust her. I'll earn your trust, in time. If you are willing to give me that."
I stare at her, my face open and earnest and I'm not faking that even a little bit.
I want Iris's family to trust me. It will make this whole Oracle thing easier if they didn't want to stab me on sight.
I smile at Lily. “I don't want to hurt Iris. I know you don't have reason to trust me, but I only want good things for her.”
Lily grunts her opinion of that and pushes past me, into the hospital room, leaving me to follow or not.
My Oracle is in there.
I follow.
Iris is standing by the bed, talking to the man lying there. She's abandoned the sunglasses, and she's humming softly. Something I don't think she's aware she's doing. Her gaze flicks to me when I step in and I give her a quick questioning look.
Are you sane?
A giggle, not quite appropriate, bubbles up and over and both her siblings stare at her for a long moment.
“This is Apollo. He's a new friend,” she says waving me over and her brother finally turns his, very suspicious, attention on me.
Heath is a pale, sick echo of his twin. Dark hair and dark eyes, with sickly shadows clinging to them. Pallid skin and fragile bones poking at them, little skeletal fingers tugging him toward the grave.
But for all that he looks five seconds away from Hades, his eyes gleam bright and suspicious and his shoulders twitch square, a gentle posturing as he faces me.
“What the hell kind of name is Apollo?”
I smile at him, a quick flashing thing. “A very old one.”
“My sister likes you.”
“I like her, too.”
He nods and tilts his head. “She likes you. Doesn't mean I trust you.”
She snaps his name and he twists to look at her and I see it.
The power pulsing through him, it's utterly familiar and I sway, watching it rush along under his skin, twisting in a thick, shining ribbon around the threads of his life.
I did this.
I did this and stole her.
Her fervent, thrown-away vow from the night before echoes through me and it makes sense, suddenly. It all makes sense.
I have never made an Oracle without intent. It is too difficult to do, even with intent. There are checks, balances, ways to ensure that no one is tricked into the giving or receiving of power.<
br />
I have, over the years, fucked a thousand girls, and just as many boys. And I have never woken to a girl screaming without knowing it would happen.
Iris, as in everything, shatters that rule.
I found Del on a dusty road in a forgotten corner of a fallen empire.
It was remarkable only because she was there, with shining eyes and a laughing mouth and too much knowledge in her direct stare when we’re sitting on the side of the road, eating olives and the fresh goat Artemis left with me when she slipped past my camp the night before.
Artemis was immersed in a hunt, and I left her to it. I was immersed in Del.
She was like nothing I’d ever known, shy and sweet and wild and defiant. She watched me sometimes, when I was playing my lyre, her eyes shining in the firelight and I knew I was fooling no one. The pretty little girl with dark hair and midnight blue eyes knew exactly who—what—I was.
She still welcomed me at her fire, in the tiny cave she slept in, and, as the weeks wore past, into her bed.
She offered me something I’d never had. Friendship. The quiet company that I’d only ever enjoyed with my sister, but it was different.
Sweeter, laced with a love and affection that could only be called worship, and Artemis was a goddess. She had never offered that to me. She couldn’t.
I fell in love with Del, in that endless summer. Wrapped up in the scent of wool and the rocky cave we lived in, the moss of my sister’s forest and the sea that beckoned. I fell in love with her whispers and too-loud laughter and the off-key warbling song that sometimes rose to match the tune I plucked from my lyre.
I fell in love with her smile and the sweet warmth of her body, and the worried frown I would see when the Sight overwhelmed me and left me aching and desperate. Lost in my mind and the world.
It was Del who said it first. A night when Artemis lounged in our cave, her gaze arrogant and worried. I’d been tripping over the cusp of madness for days, the swell of Sight cresting and cresting and cresting, babbling out nonsense while Del fretted at my side and sang songs to soothe me, until finally she prayed to my sister.
Maybe she sacrificed a goat. Gods only knows. All I know is that when I was finally lucid enough to take in my surroundings, Del was at my side, and Artemis was here, her hound pressed against my side.
Broken God Page 9