by S W Clarke
Pythia—or what remained of her—wasn’t very big, after all.
It was I who lowered her in, shrouded in her robes. And because I had never known a religion or a faith, I waited until we had packed the dirt over and we stood beside the grave and I said the first truth that entered my mind.
“She was decisive,” I said. “She was brave, and I will never forget her or her wisdom. May she and her daughter rest well in whatever beyond this GoneGod World has to offer.”
But it didn’t feel like enough. Words never felt like enough for the cherished dead. So I took her staff, and I planted it as a headstone. When the nymphs returned to the garden, they would know. If Hera ever returned, she would know.
The Oracle of Delphi had died for Others to live on.
Afterward, we crossed the scorched earth in silence. Hercules carried three of Hera’s apples in a stray World Army backpack, and the rest of us retrieved our weapons. We passed Ladon’s corpse, who lay still amongst the trees.
Cupid led us out of the clearing, but I hesitated at the skein that lay between the garden and the rest of the world. “They’ll be waiting for us, won’t they?” I said.
“Who?” Cupid asked.
“The World Army.”
Hercules shook his head. “Isabella, I don’t know if you quite grasp the sacrifice the oracle made.”
I turned to him. “Besides her own death?”
“The oracle released two thousand years of pasts and fates,” Hercules murmured next to me. “You saw the vortex.”
“I saw it,” I said. “But I thought …”
“Tonight,” Hercules said, raising a hand to the buildings around us, “any human within four kilometers of this park will be stuck in their past or their future.”
“What about Justin?” I took my boyfriend’s hand. He didn’t seem stuck in the past or the future.
“Whatever I am,” Justin said, “I’m not completely human anymore.”
He and I met eyes. It was the first time he had fully acknowledged what had happened to him, how he had changed. Tonight was the first time I had seen him fully tap into the powers the World Army had given to him.
And it was the first time I noticed a single strand of silver hair in one black eyebrow. I thumbed over his browbone. “Whatever you are,” I said, “you’re still Justin Truly.”
“It seems no one within the garden was affected,” Hercules said. “Only those out here.”
He was right—none of the soldiers or Serena seemed to have been swept into the past or the future. “She was clearing the way,” I whispered. “She knew that if we did survive, we would be surrounded by the army.”
“Such was her power,” Hercules said. “She anticipated better than anyone. You had the great fortune of knowing one of the most remarkable women to grace this world.”
My eyes blurred, and I swiped at them. I glanced back one last time at the great tree, the mound of dirt, and the upright staff. Before anyone could speak, I said, “I guess she would want us to go, then.”
We all stepped through the veil. Around us, Central Park lay quiet and dark, just as Hercules had predicted. Ten minutes later, we emerged onto the sidewalk of an empty street.
Cupid led us to the nearest subway entrance, and we descended into the mildly unnerving hive of New York’s underground public transportation. He used his card to get us all through the turnstiles—Hercules had to turn sidelong to get through—and on the platform, Hercules’s hair floated around his head as he gazed at the graffiti strewn over every surface.
“The wisdom of the new world,” Justin joked at him.
Hercules pointed at one sentence. “Will you read me some of your modern wisdom?”
“Julie’s a bloody tamp …” Justin stopped. “Actually, I misread. It says ‘Love thy neighbor.’ ”
Cupid snickered.
“Ah.” Hercules nodded. “A fine sentiment.”
As we waited on the platform, I stood next to Cupid. “What did you make her want?” I asked.
He glanced up at me. “What?”
“Serena. With your arrow.”
“Oh.” He waved a hand through the air. “I made her want to see the person she loved most in the world. Wherever that person was.”
Clever. “You might have sent her all the way back to Montreal.”
“If I persuaded her.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“The arrows aren’t absolute, remember?” Cupid said. “They only offer a strong suggestion.”
“Oh, right.” I thought back to the way Serena had disappeared into the trees. “Your suggestion worked.”
He winked at me. “It always does. Well, almost always.”
As our train came to a stop in front of us, Hercules clapped his hands to his ears. “Why do the mechanical beasts squeal so?”
“Because, for all the technology in this new GoneGod World,” Cupid explained as he ferried us onto the subway, “they can’t be bothered to replace their worn-out brake pads.”
When we came off the subway, Cupid started us down the sidewalk, but Hercules’s voice rang out behind me. “Isa,” he said.
I stopped, turned and found him unmoving. I let go of Justin’s hand, and when I crossed to Hercules, he looked down at me with mournfulness I’d never seen.
“You look so very sad, Isabella.”
“Me?” Though perhaps I did. Perhaps I reflected in my own face what I saw in his. “The oracle is dead.”
“In our time, Pythia would have died with the highest honor. She sacrificed herself for you—for us.”
I nodded.
“You thought I would die this evening,” he said. One hand lifted, flounced my hair. “I promised you I would not fail you, or him.”
“You kept that promise,” I murmured.
“You are most beautiful,” he said, “under this diffuse light.”
I swallowed. “That sounds like a goodbye.”
He gripped my chin in two fingers. “Perceptive as always.” When his hand fell away, he lowered his face. “I have another labor to complete.”
“I thought only two had been undone.”
“This is not a labor given to me by King Eurystheus. It is one I wasn’t sure of until I had the apples in my hands, and I knew the oracle was right. She told me my journey would not end when I defeated Ladon.”
“What is it?” I whispered. “We can help you. Justin’s fate is bound with yours.”
“Then it is fortunate I will not fail.”
“Tell me what it is.”
He lifted his eyes to me. “I must avenge a great wrong.”
“What? What does that even mean?”
“The oracle didn’t say.” His jaw hardened. “But I know which wrong I would like to avenge.”
“What wrong is that?”
“All the vileness Hera spread in this world. The family she forced me to murder. My own children.”
“How can you avenge that? Hera is gone.”
He sighed out his fury. “I don’t know.”
I set my hand at his cheek. “Come with us. Avenge the great wrongs that have been and will be done to Others by humankind.”
He stared down at me, then beyond me. “What about Justin Truly?”
“You know I can hear you both,” Justin called from down the sidewalk. He approached, and my hand quickly fell away from Hercules’s face. “What’s this about?”
“Hercules has a final labor,” I said. “To avenge a great wrong.”
“I must depart …” Hercules began.
“No,” Justin said. “You don’t.”
We both turned to Justin. “What?”
“Your fate is bound with mine. If you die, I die, remember? I’m not going to die because you accidentally walked out in front of a car somewhere on the other side of the world.” He stepped closer. “But more than that, Isabella needs you.”
“But …” Hercules began.
“I don’t care what’s between the two of you.�
�� He looked at me. “Well, I do care. I’m jealous, but I already wailed on this guy’s face in front of a strip club. And then he saved my GoneGodDamn life with water from some ancient river in the underworld, so I think we’re about even.”
“Justin,” I breathed.
His eyes met mine. “I’m right, aren’t I? The oracle wanted you to keep him alive. You need him.”
I nodded.
“So you’re coming,” Justin said to Hercules. “You’re with us.”
I gazed up at Hercules, who was staring into the night sky. When he looked back down, it was straight at me. “I’m with you.”
↔
We came to 91 Bainbridge, which sat in a line of imposing brick rowhouses. The lights were on in 91, but the curtains were drawn tight.
We climbed the steps to the stoop, and Cupid gestured me forward. “You do the honors.”
Before me sat a frosted-glass door, impossible to see through. I touched my finger to the doorbell, which chimed through the interior of the house.
“Should I be ready to knock someone around?” Hercules whispered, one hand edging toward his club.
I shook my head. “No.” I trusted the oracle. And I suspected I knew what we would find inside 91 Bainbridge.
The door opened six inches, and a young woman’s face appeared. “Yes?”
“Pythia sent us,” I said. “I’m Isabella.”
“Pythia?” she said.
“The Oracle of Delphi.”
She opened the door farther. Before us stood a centaur. Her thick blonde hair hung down almost to her waist, and she wore a low fringe across her forehead. On her upper body, a biker’s jacket. The horse’s half of her was a light brown, dappled with white at the flanks and socks.
The centaur stepped close, one forehoof stamping. “I know who you are, encantado.” Her blue eyes surveyed the others. “And them?”
“They’re with me.” I pointed to each. “Hercules of legend. Cupid of Eros. And my boyfriend, Justin Truly.”
“You can call me Mari,” the centaur said. “You need to be off the street at once. All of you, follow me.”
“Wait,” I said. “How do I know …?”
“That I’m not going to kill you?” The centaur had half-turned down a dimly lit hallway, now snorted as she came back around. She swept up her blonde hair, lowered her head as she flipped her left ear for me to see the back of.
There, a minuscule outline of a fish. It almost looked like an infinity sign. I had to squint to make it out in the half-light.
“What is that?” I said.
“If you’re ever in doubt,” Mari said, “ask to see the flying, walking fish.”
I nodded. The fish, infinity—both references to the gods, to immortality. But with wings and feet. That fish—that infinity—had become something more. Evolved into something more.
We came through the door, and Mari brought the four of us down the hall and into a pineapple-themed kitchen.
There, we met the resistance.
More specifically, we met a man named Roger who sat with his hands wrapped around a mug as he listened to me tell him everything that had happened since we’d escaped Montreal.
Roger had little hair left on his head. He had hung a puppy calendar on the kitchen wall. He was an accountant by day. He was as human as humans came.
And he led the resistance in New York City.
As I finished my story, he watched with keen interest. “What I’ve stolen from the World Army—it’s the key to everything. If I can just gain access to a lab,” I said, “I can regain my powers, and I can complete my research. I can map the third strand of DNA, and …”
Roger’s eyebrows went up. “And?”
“I think I can give Others the ability to procreate,” I said. “To have children.”
Cupid spat coffee. “What?”
Mari stepped closer to the table. “You’re sure.”
I turned in my chair, both hands on the back. I didn’t blink, didn’t waver. “Yes.” I knew now what Pythia had given her life for. She had died for me to complete my research, to figure out the secret to procreation. That was the immortality she had spoken of.
“That’s, that’s …” Cupid stammered. “Isa, you told me you were a geneticist, but I didn’t know you were a good one.”
Mari met eyes with Roger. “The Oracle of Delphi died for this encantado. When she contacted me, she said that her fate was key to the survival of Others.”
“Well,” Roger said. “Now we know why.” His eyes drifted to his tea, then to Mari, Cupid, Justin and me. They settled on me. “She needs to go to Paradise Lot. She needs to meet the angel.”
“The angel?” I said.
“Miral,” Roger whispered, and even that word seemed injected with a grace that hung over the room like a veil. “The former Commander of the Lord’s Army.”
“Why?” Justin said. “Why all the way to Paradise Lot? Why this Miral? Can’t we just give her a phone call?”
Roger’s eyes flashed on Justin. “That’s classified to most of the resistance. You’ll know why when you see her.”
Cupid downed his mug of tea. “It’s a long-ass way to Paradise Lot. A whole ocean, if I remember my geography.”
“It is,” Roger said. “And it’ll be a harder journey than you know. The World Army wants you. They want you badly.”
“They’ve wanted me badly for weeks,” I said. “They still don’t have me.”
Roger nodded, a smile crossing his face. “That they do not. I do like your spirit.”
“What about your spirit?” I asked. “Why are you with the resistance?”
He paused with his mug half-raised to his mouth. “Ah, the question I’ve been waiting for. You mean, why is a human with the resistance?”
I nodded.
“Because empathy is not exclusive to one’s own species, Isabella Ramirez,” Roger said. “Because I may be an accountant, but I believe all of us—humans and Others—are capable of making a difference. We offer what we can, and I offer this.” His hand swept around the table.
“What is ‘this?’ ” Cupid asked.
“Sanctuary, kindness, and the ability to get where you want to go. You see, I’m married to an Other—a succubus. And no, before you ask, I did not marry her for the sex … although that is amazing. She’s asleep upstairs right now.” He pointed to the ceiling. “And my life would be over if hers were to end.”
I hid my grin. A succubus? Clearly I had misjudged Roger the accountant.
“So, encantado,” he said, “what will it be?”
“Let’s do this,” Cupid said.
“You know I am with you,” Hercules said.
Across the table, Justin and I met eyes. We had spent weeks together, just the two of us, running so long that running felt like the natural way of things. Him and I together, hand in hand.
After a moment, he nodded.
I turned back to Roger, Pythia’s words ringing through my head: Be decisive, encantado.
“All right,” I said. “We’ll go to Paradise Lot.”
Roger set his mug aside, pressing his sleeves back to his elbows. A glint had entered his eyes. “Good,” he said. “Let’s begin.”
Isa’s adventures continue in OATHBOUND!
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R.E. Vance lives in Edinburgh with his wife, demonic toddler and imaginary dog where he enjoys a beautiful city, whisky and long walks.
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