Apollo's Gift (The Greek Gods Series)

by Sandy Rowland

  * * *

  Cassie paced outside of John’s apartment on the sidewalk, waiting for a cab. The scent of him stuck to her clothes and she wanted to gag. She fumed with rage. Every muscle in her body ached from fighting Mr. Horny. She was angry with John for being a pervert, angry with Apollo for doing something to run off every man she’d ever wanted a relationship with, but, most of all, she was furious with herself for trusting either one of them.

  For being a smart girl, she sure felt dumb. Why hadn’t she asked Apollo to drop her off in her room at home? She wanted to scream. Adrenaline made her legs quake and she forced herself to pace faster. At least she’d stopped her tears. Good thing she hadn’t worn the dress her mom had pushed at her. That would have made it too easy for the perv. She made a mental note: In the future, always wear snug jeans on a first date. Like I’m ever going out again, huh.

  The cab pulled up. Cassie got in and used the drive home to repair her appearance. Her hair was a mess and she smoothed her hands over it to calm her bird’s-nest tresses. The hem of her blouse was torn and the top button was gone. She must look like a girl who’d taken a tumble in bed. Her mother would give her a talking to when she hit the door and Cassie did not want to have that conversation.

  She breathed through another surge of anger. She’d get Medina banned from the FBI and tossed out of school. He should be locked up, but her father didn’t need his daughter’s face pasted all over the tabloids crying rape. And who would believe her? Assault maybe, but the papers would enjoy that almost as much. No. She’d tell her dad, John would lose his dream, and she hoped that would teach him a lesson.

  Dad. Reality hit her in the face like a fist. He would think she’d lost it. His princess, with no long-term relationships, no men interested in her at all, and now after Eric had devastated her, crying assault on the next guy willing to give her a look. She punched the back of the car’s seat. “Damnit! He’ll have me evaluated for sure.”

  The driver shook his head, but kept driving.

  “Whatever,” she grumbled. Cassie couldn’t take time to worry about what the cab driver thought of her. There were bigger issues. Apollo had added to her trouble. If it hadn’t been for him scaring off men all her dating life, she might have learned enough to see John for the disgusting sex fiend that he was. She might even be happily in a relationship, and not tempted by a hunky guy with one thing on his mind.

  And then for Apollo to justify his actions by saying he knew best and was protecting her. What she needed was protection from him. Who did he think he was, a god? Nervous giggles erupted from her lips. “A god,” she snorted. The driver glanced in his rearview mirror and drove faster. Hysterics continued the rest of the way home.

  Cassie paid the driver and swiped at her wet eyes. It was early. She hoped she could bypass her mom and sneak unseen upstairs to her room. Tiptoeing around the back of the house, she opened the kitchen door. It was past dinnertime and her parents ate most meals out. No one would see her.

  She held her breath and opened the door. The kitchen was dark. Good. Cassie slipped off her pumps and padded over the ceramic tile towards the back stairs leading up to the hall near her room. She lifted her foot and landed on something lumpy. A screech echoed up the stairs and through the house. A large gray mass shot by her. Cassie joined in with her own surprised scream, followed by another fit of laughter.

  “Damn cat.” she snorted, and giggled until her sides ached.

  The lights glared on. “Cassie?”

  Cassie’s snickering faded. “Hi, Mom. I just stepped on Ajax. Sorry.”

  Her mom’s face was hidden behind a mask of blue algae. It cracked when her mouth twisted and her eyes bugged out. “What happened to you?”

  “Mom, I don’t want to discuss it.” Cassie sagged against the kitchen cabinets.

  “Are you hurt?” Her mom scanned her from across the kitchen and the safety of the light switch.

  “My blouse has seen better days.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I’m fine.” Cassie turned toward the back stairs.

  “Are you drunk?”

  Cassie faced her mother. “What?”

  “I said, are you drunk? I hope you didn’t make a scene at the restaurant with that man you went out with.”

  Fire blasted through Cassie’s limbs and shot through her mouth in the form of words. A torrent of Greek, Italian, German and French colorful language directed at her clueless and self-absorbed mother. After the verbal assault, Cassie gritted her teeth and spoke in English. “Is that what you’re worried about? You’re afraid I might have been seen and embarrassed you?”

  “Were you?” Her mother glared at her.

  “Yes, Mom. I drank myself silly, danced on tabletops and sang 101 Bottles of Beer on the Wall at the top of my lungs. Then I found some random guy and had sex with him on the hood of his rusty pick-up truck in the parking lot. It was quite a show.”

  Dr. Nancy gaped in horror and her blue mask flaked, showing patches of pale skin beneath. “You did no such thing.”

  Cassie lifted her chin. “No Mom, I did no such thing, but maybe I should have.”

  “Don’t talk like that.” Her mom clutched the tie of her white terrycloth robe. “Hush,” she hissed. “The household staff is here. Someone might be listening.”

  “You’re right. I’m sure someone is.” That overbearing god was no doubt eavesdropping. Jerk. Cassie bent down, slipped into her pumps and headed to the door. She couldn’t stay there another moment.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Dr. Nancy’s shrill tone challenged.

  “Out dancing.”

  * * *

  It felt like an eternity as Apollo waited for Zeus to announce his punishment. It could be an impossible series of tasks or a stint in another form like a crow. Either of those would ensure his loss of the wager. Losing against Hades would be punishment enough.

  Apollo played his lyre to calm his nerves and urge his father into a more gracious temper. After his fifth tune, Zeus spoke. “I’ve made my decision. I strip you of your gift of prophecy. If you bear your punishment well, and do as I command, I will reinstate the gift.”

  “When will it return?” This was lenient for Zeus, but he knew it would end the gift he’d given Cassie and her ability to save the embassy.

  Zeus looked down his nose at him. “In a century or two or when the mood strikes me.”

  Apollo struggled not to argue and accept the decree, but with Cassie’s life and the mortals in Athens at risk, he had to challenge it. He fell again to his knees. “Choose something else. Without prophecy, the embassy will fall and Hades will win the wager.”

  “You should’ve thought of this before you acted against my laws. The punishment stands.” Zeus motioned for him to get off his knees. “You might still win the bet. You’re my son, a handsome god, talented, and you already know much about the attack. I’m sure you can figure a way to stop Hydra and gain Cassandra’s love.”

  Apollo nodded. “I must.”

  “You will. Go now and abide by my decree.” His mouth pinched tight together and the color of his eyes shifted from serene blue-gray to virulent black. “But I warn you, with the next offence you’ll feel the full weight of my wrath.”

  Apollo knew better than to open his mouth again. Sweat beaded his brow at the thought of Zeus’s rage. His father’s formidable arsenal included thunderbolts. Apollo had no intention of being on the receiving end of a lightning strike. He bowed and left the garden.

  Without prophecy to help him thwart Hydra, he’d have to use his other skills while obeying every minute law that Zeus had imposed on the gods. No more straddling the line. No more interceding in Cassie’s life by saving her from the vultures that circled her, looking for an easy meal. That insect’s attack should’ve put fear into her. She’d be careful. Relationships with men would be the farthest thing from her mind. She was probably home right now fast asleep in her little bed.

  Apollo strode
into the courtyard, focused on making a plan, until the rancid stench of death ran up his nose and stopped him. In the abode of the gods, only one thing carried that smell.

  “Nephew.” Hades ambled toward him, his black robes frayed from decomposition as the rest of him eternally rotted, but was not consumed. “I heard about your troubles and you have my sympathy.”

  Hades was a liar and didn’t deal in sympathy. Betrayal, kidnapping and rape, yes, but not sympathy. “Uncle,” Apollo grumbled. “I have no troubles, just a challenge or two, but I’ll overcome.”

  “It’s unfortunate about your prophetic gift being taken from you.” Hades shook his head of stringy gray hair. The action sent the stink wafting around him. “I hope it won’t affect our wager? I’d hate to win by unfair advantage.”

  Apollo breathed through his mouth to lessen the smell. “I have other abilities to rely on. I’ll win. You can be sure of it.”

  “The embassy? You might be able to save Athens. I grant you that. But Cassandra.” He sighed. “Poor, sweet, virginal Cassandra. I don’t know how you’ll gain her trust, much less her love, after violating her choice as you did.”

  How did his uncle know about him chasing off her suitors? Hades had spent most of his existence in the underworld in caves amid pools of steaming earth and lava. His spectral person only came to the heavens upon Zeus’s invitation. “You’ve heard wrong. I protected her and she’ll see that in no time.”

  “Will she?” He closed his pale eyes and rubbed the bridge of his bony nose. “I hear that she is vexed with you.”

  “Where did you hear that? Or are you making it up like the nightmares you inflict on children?”

  Hades smiled, showing his discolored teeth surrounded by thin pale lips. “You’ve relied on prophecy to know what was coming. It’s a pity. You are at a disadvantage. Get yourself some minions.”

  “Minions?” He’d had servants, but not anyone in the pursuit of information. He’d never needed them, until now.

  “The world is full of willing mortals begging to worship a god and do him service.”

  “I don’t like all that hovering, bowing and scraping. It’s demeaning to the mortal and to the god who allows such activity.”

  “Minions can be most useful.” Hade’s widening grin did nothing to improve his face.

  “I’m sure they can be, but I choose against using them.”

  “Then I suppose you don’t wish to know what mine uncovered.”

  “Not in the least.” Apollo wanted to be off and rid himself of this specter of a god.

  “Well, it’s for the best. You probably already know what Cassandra is doing.”

  “Of course.”

  “Since you’re so sure, let’s increase the wager. If you gain Cassandra’s love and save the embassy, I will be your servant and something more. I’ll give you my dog, Kerberos, that guards the gates to the underworld.

  “You’d part with the three-headed beast? What do you want in return?”

  “Nothing much. Just your golden head of hair. I’ve admired yours a long time. Before Zeus forced me to rule the underworld, I had soft blond waves like yours. It’s an old man’s pleasant memory. That’s what I ask for.”

  “My hair? You mean for me to shave it like a sheep and hand it over to you in a sack like wool?”

  “It will grow back.”

  Apollo grumbled. Not his crowning glory. He wouldn’t recognize himself.

  “I ask for something that you will regain in a few months. If you win, you keep my dog forever. There is no better hunter or tracker in the entire universe. You’ll be able to beat Hermes in the hunt.”

  “Hermes?” Apollo had been at odds with his half brother ever since Hermes had stolen his cattle. The offer tempted him. “I keep your dog and you get my locks. That’s it. No trickery?”

  “Just as you’ve said.”

  Apollo wished he could use prophecy to see the future of this choice, but he had to rely on his own mind. It would be a prize to humble Hermes by besting him. He thought himself so swift. Apollo would show him. “I agree to your terms.”

  “Excellent,” said his uncle. “I mustn’t keep you any longer. You already know what Cassandra is doing and must be on your way.

  “Doing?”

  “How she runs the streets alone, distraught and vulnerable.”

  Was it a lie? It did come through the vile mouth of Hades. Still, he should find her just to be sure. Cassie had to be sleeping by this hour.

  * * *

  Cassie drove her Audi to the closest bar she knew. A dive by any standards and her mom would have harsher words for the place. Two husky bikers sat outside, smoking rolled cigarettes. Leather covered their bodies and studs glinted from their mouths, along with heavy chains slung over their thick necks. She slipped out of her car, locked it, and strode through the parking lot as if she belonged there. One of the bikers shot her a hot look and curled his lips before he stuck out his tongue and wiggled it in lewd invitation. “Hey babe, how much?”

  How much indeed. She was no cheap whore. She wasn't even a loose woman or a gal looking for a good time. Maybe she should have fixed her hair and changed her blouse. The missing button wasn’t helping her. All she wanted was a drink. A real drink, none of the girly wine cocktails or the usual rum and cola for her. Not tonight. After the day she’d had, all Cassie wanted was to get mind-numbingly drunk. She hoped it would be worth the hangover in the morning. That headache couldn't be worse than her date with John, or Apollo’s declaration, or her mother’s cruel and thoughtless words.

  She ignored the gestures and catcalls of the bikers and strode on her pumps into the bar. The reek of beer and stale air almost set her back on her heels and into the cool night. Not happening. She meant to get a drink and she’d have one.

  This grimy, dark hole was just the spot. It looked as miserable as she felt. A section near the end of the marred wooden bar called to her. Cassie slid onto a vacant stool and glanced at the paper napkins printed with low-class humor littering the length of the bar. Yuck. She breathed in and then thought better of it as a pungent guy walked by wearing a wifebeater. Maybe she’d have just one drink and then go.

  “I’m Derek. What can I get you?” The voice dragged her attention to the middle-aged bartender, gray at his temples and balding on top. He had kind gray eyes.

  “I’ll have—” she hesitated. What did she want to drink? It’s not like she had much experience with alcohol. The girls she hung out with drank a glass of wine and that was the extent of it. This place didn’t look like they carried much of a wine list. A man in the next seat ordered a Long Island ice tea. Hmmm. That sounded good.

  “I’ll have the same.” She said the words as if she drank this all the time and waited for the drink. The bar filled with bodies. The smell of sweat-dampened shirts combined with cologne and alcohol. She wouldn’t have picked a place like this on a bet, but it was just what she needed. A crap bar for the crappy way she felt.

  The Long Island pushed over the scarred bar top and rested before her. It was tall and looked brown like a good glass of strong iced tea. She liked iced tea. She took a sip from the thin plastic straw. The liquid burned her throat. This was more than plain earl grey. She noticed the guy sitting next to her nursing his drink. He grinned at her and winked a brown eye. She shivered. Not happening. She’d dealt with enough male sexual urges to last her a lifetime. It didn’t matter to her that the guy was a little cute in his jeans and white t-shirt. His dark hair and shadow of a beard made him look dangerous, the look of a man able to give a girl a hot kiss and know how to please her. He’d be a good choice if she were into that casual hot-and-bothered kind of no-strings night of passion.

  Cassie shifted her gaze to the bartender. Derek had a snub nose and a one-inch scar on his chin from when he might have taken a hit in the bad end of a fight, or just clipped it falling down on the ice some frigid night on the streets after work. Yep. He would do fine. This was a guy she could pour out her troubles to
as he poured alcohol into her glass. That's what she wanted tonight, someone to talk to who wouldn’t remember what she’d said or who she was in the morning. And she wouldn’t recall him either. The more she drank, the more comfortable she felt. She’d stay a while.

  Cassie took another long drag from the straw. She didn’t notice the burn anymore, but it made her a little lightheaded. Not that that was a problem. It was just what she'd come for. To get drunk, dance on a table or two, sing and whatever came to mind, and then catch a cab and head for home. The rest of her story about the sex on the hood of a truck was scratched from her itinerary. No way was her first time having sex going to look like that.

  Female laughter brought Cassie’s focus to a group seated at a table behind her, six women in their mid-twenties to early thirties. Cassie wished that she were having a good time with her friends like these women. They talked and one of them screamed with joy when the girl in the short bob flashed the ring on her finger. That’s what it meant to be alive in this world and to be a part of it. All she’d done was calculate figures, please her parents and date losers. That wasn’t living. That was torture and slow death.

  Was that why she hadn’t had many relationships, and why she maintained virgin status? Had it been Apollo chasing the men off or was it her? Cassie’s thoughts were cloudy. It had to be the drink. She sounded boring even to her own ears. No one thought numerical theory was interesting except another math nerd. She’d thought pervert computer geek John Medina understood and might like her. Boy, was she wrong. Apollo seemed to be the only available male who didn’t yawn in her presence.

  She shook her head, letting her messy hair fall to the side of her face, and draped over the bar. Damn, but if Apollo wasn’t perfect for her in some ways. The truth of that irritated her. Too bad he wasn’t a man.

  Apollo cared for her in his way. He obviously believed that he was protecting her. Surely not every man was out to use her and needed to be scared away. No. She’d done some of that herself. Apollo had mentioned a couple of the men she’d dated, but not all. There were others, and, for whatever reason, they weren’t interested. Apollo was. But did he only want what he didn’t get from Cassandra? The thought of their bodies tangled together in sheets invaded her mind and warmed her skin. Those wicked dreams gave her pause. Would it be so bad to actually have sex with Apollo? It would be a memorable first time and, by the look of things, her only opportunity. There was no way she was succumbing to men like John.