Broken God (5 page)

Chapter
7
.

I spend the next
two weeks wandering through coffee shops and hospital wards, and in the tiny apartment,
where Del waits for me. When I return, every night, she gives me a blank,
bright eyed stare, before she
blinks
once, and
goes
back to sleep, seemingly content to ignore
me completely.

She was proving to
be remarkably stubborn in warming up to me.

Artemis text me
once, when she returned to her forest in Canada, and I hadn’t heard from her
since. It felt isolating, even if it was the life I had chosen. Chose still.

I had lived so long
in solitude that missing someone now was a strange and unpleasant experience.

I spent my days in
coffee shops. I love coffee shops. Love that there are so many people, so many
stories, and threads that spin out and shine golden.

There is something
addictive about it. About seeing so many futures playing out for me, all the
possibilities.

I like stories. I
always have. It’s what drew me to Del, so many lifetimes ago, why I gave her my
gift and made her mine.

Because she told me
a story—her story—and I couldn’t resist her.

I can’t resist them
now. So I drink too much black coffee and listen to the mortals, all unaware of
what sits amongst them. My raven huffs in annoyance, and as the days spin by,
concern.

Del greets me every
evening, when I stumble home smelling like bread and coffee and rain
-
splattered streets,
with a curious tilt to her head, and indifference.

I wondered, when I
could be bothered to wonder, why she is important.

Why Del told me
about her, a thousand years ago, one of the last things she told me.

I wonder what it
means, for us. Me, and Artemis, and all the others who I refuse to see, who
will feel the echoes of the changes, whatever they are.

I wonder how it
will feel, when the world ends.

That is, after all,
what Del promised.

The gods and our
world would end, and this feral kitten is the first sign of it.

I move to
hospitals, after a few weeks in coffee shops. I don’t sit, here. I drift
through, silently.

I can kill with a
touch, cripple with disease and leave my victims writhing as they drown in
their own blood.

Or I can heal.

And as I wander
through the hospital, drifting into rooms and touching the patients, I leave a
wake of health and life in my wake.

I could get in
trouble for the flagrant use of my power, here. We don’t like to let the humans
know what we are, or even that we exist. That was Uncle’s choice, something he
insisted on when we left Olympus. And even though I had left long before that,
my sister made sure I received the family edict.

Of course, now the
gods are dying from lack of worship, so we might rethink that whole stance,
soon. If we have any sense of self-preservation.

Zeus has always
been good at ignoring the obvious in favor of being
right
and the family still listens to him, for reasons I won’t ever
fully understand.

I slip out of the pediatric
ward, a loose
,
happy feeling in my chest. Whistle softly as I stroll through the hallways.

It’s hard to not
touch everyone. To reel in the power swimming through my veins and ride the
threads of vision until I find the one that will
be
and choose who I will heal.

I kind of want to
stay. Want to see the expressions on their faces, the smiles and awe when the
children wake up free from pain.

I want to see how
my power makes the world better.

But that’s not for
me. So I step out of the pediatric ward and head down the hall to the staircase
that will take me to the roof or the parking garage.

I haven’t decided
where I want to find my solitude today.

I should feel him,
before I see him.

It scares me, that
I don’t. That I am so lost, I can’t feel the familiar surge of power.

He’s leaning
against the wall by the elevators, wearing a pair of tight skinny jeans and a
faded band t-shirt that clings to his thin frame. A leather jacket goes over
that, loose and wind beaten, well-worn
but
obviously cared for.

His hair is a sandy
brown that glints golden and looks wind tossed. He wears white Nike’s and his
smile is as familiar as the sunrise.

It’s been over
three hundred years since I last saw Hermes, but I could recognize him
anywhere, and seeing him here is not as surprising as it probably should be.

Still, seeing three
Olympians in the space of a month, when I have gone years without any—that
worries me.

So does the fact
that all of this is happening as I find Del and bring her home.

“Don’t look so
pissed, cousin,” Hermes says, grinning at me as I come up next to him. He’s
moving at normal speed, pacing along with me as I climb the stairs to the roof.

“What are you doing
here?” I ask, instead of addressing his comment.

“Artemis is
worried.”

I roll my eyes.
“She’s always worried. But you don’t usually listen when she calls.”

He’s quiet until
we’re on the roof, and I tilt my head back, searching for the sun.

I spent too long in
the hospital. The sun is already setting, sinking with disturbing swiftness
toward the horizon. I feel a pang and stretch my power for her.

“Prophecy is coming
true, cousin.”

Fucking prophecy. I
hiss
out
a breath and turn
to look at Hermes.

“We are gods. We
make our own destiny,” I snap. He tilts his head and stares at me, and then he
laughs.

“Apollo, don’t
fucking lie to yourself. That was always Zeus, and you never wanted to be like
him. Don’t be like him in this.”

I bare my teeth, a
silent snarl at him and Hermes grins. “You can’t run from this, cousin. It’s
happening, and we need to know what Del said.”

Tiger kitten, furious girl, fallen gods. Death. Death. Death.
Broken god and shattered power and death
.

She saw us die.

She saw Olympus
fall.

I gave Del my gift
and she took it, knowing the price, because she loved me. And I destroyed her.

“I won’t talk about
it,” I say, simply. It has been ages. Empires have risen and fallen and still I
can see her, coiled in my arms, shaking and sobbing as she spoke, and the
prophecy filled that fucking temple.

I demanded it and
it destroyed her and I don’t think I’ll ever be
okay
with that. I don’t think I’ll ever be able
to accept that and speak of it with the lightness that is needed to address
such a monumental thing.

I stare into the
sky and feel my cousin shift behind me.

“Come on, Apollo.
Take me to your home. We don’t have to speak of it, today.”

Chapter
8
.

I keep going back.
I know I shouldn’t. But I can’t help it. Every day, when Hermes wanders away to
play messenger for my uncle and flirt with my sister, I wander back to the
little coffee shop and watch the girl with Del’s eyes and a wide
,
laughing smile.
And she knows. She smirks when I enter, sometimes hidden behind a veil of red
-
gold hair,
sometimes leaning against the counter, that pert ass of hers presented like a
fucking invitation. Sometimes, she’s strumming her guitar.

Once, I came in and
she was crying.

I want to go to
her, but the girl behind the counter gives me a fierce glare, and I take my
coffee to the corner table, watching Iris as I play with the cards.

I don’t like my
girl crying.

She’s not my girl.

I forget that, if
I’m not careful.

I hate being
careful.

I hate not taking
what I want.

I hate that Del’s
voice is a constant whisper in the back of my mind,

Telling me all the
ways I will die, all the ways I will kill my family.

I am the god of
prophecy, and I know the truth when I hear it spoken.

It’s what I’ve been
running from for so many centuries.

“So you were here
for
my
breakdown.”

It’s three days
after I walked in on Iris sobbing, and the first time I’ve been back to the
coffee shop.

I wasn’t ready for
just how much I wanted her and how much it would shake me, to not take what I
wanted. So I stayed away, hiding in the concert halls and practice rooms at the
local universities, drinking down the music that they produced.

I blink at her, and
she smiles. “Sorry you had to see that.”

“Tears aren’t a
weakness,” I say, softly. Staring into my coffee instead of her eyes.

“They aren’t.” she
agrees, readily.
“
But
they can make the people around me uncomfortable. And I prefer to avoid that if
I can.”

I do look at her
then. There’s a quiet intensity to her that startles me.

“You, however,
don’t seem like you rattle easy. You seem to like being uncomfortable.”

I shrug. “I’ve
always been a little different. The ones who don’t mind stick around.”

She makes a low hum
in her throat, and her head tilts, just a little. “And me? If I didn’t mind.
Would you let me stick around?”

Yes

“I am not good for
you, Iris,” I say softly. Unwilling.

She hesitates and
then, “I’m not asking for marriage, here. I’m asking for a name and a cup of
coffee. And maybe we’ll like each other. Maybe we’ll want to see what happens
after that. Maybe I’ll think you’re a dick and ask Lily to kick you out.”

I laugh at that and
Iris grins at me, her eyes sparkling with humor and the invitation I haven’t
seen in a mortal’s gaze since Del.

“One cup of
coffee,” I say, and she brightens, bouncing in her seat.

“Lil!” she almost
screams, and the girl behind the counter grumbles to herself, but sets about making
coffee
.

Iris studies me.
“So
…”

I stare at her.

For a long time, I
tried using other names. Apollo wasn’t exactly common, and as strange as I was,
it was a red flag. When mortals ask, I tell them I am Aaron. It’s as good a
name as any other. But for Iris.

“Apollo,” I murmur.
I watch her while I do, and I see her gaze flick down, over the tattoos on my
wrist and the claws of my raven, just visible under the sleeve of my t-shirt.

“Sun god, huh?” She
asks, “Your parents have a thing for the gods?

I shrug,
noncommittal, and Lily drops two coffees between us with a huff.

“Why are you here,
Apollo
?”
she asks, bluntly,
watching me. “What are you doing in my coffee shop?”

I look at her, and
shrug. “I like coffee,” I say.

I like you
is what
I don’t say.

“Mmmhm. Well, our
coffee is shitty and our pastries are worse, especially since Lil and I took
over. So why don’t you try again, with the truth this time.”

I hesitate. Because
she can tell I’m lying.

“Would you believe
I don’t know, exactly?”

She nods, biting
her lip.

“Take me to
dinner,” she says, and I shouldn’t. I can hear Del, laughing and whispering, I
can feel my sister’s panic and my family dying and all I can see from her is
the golden thread of unshakable future and it leads to me.

Irrevocably.

No matter how I
want to change the future, no matter how much I have run to avoid the future
that Del spoke, so many years ago.

“Always gonna lead
here,” I murmur, and her eyes soften, and she nods. Leans in, and when she
kisses me, softly, she tastes like coffee and sugar and chapstick.

And it feels like
fate.

When I wander into
my apartment, Del and Hermes are waiting. He’s tense and she actually leaves
her spot curled in the sun to coil around my ankles, until I reach down and
scoop her up. She mews softly, rubs once against my head, and then crawls up my
shoulder,
not caring
of her claws digging too deep into my shoulder. My raven
shifts, grumpy under my skin.

“What happened?”

“Your father is
coming to town
,”
Hermes says, and the world drops away.

Everything drops
away, and there is only Del’s voice, echoing and echoing and echoing.

From very far away,
I hear Hermes. “I am so sorry. They’re all coming, cousin.”

“This isn’t for you,” she whispers, and her teeth chatter.
Prophecy always leaves Del
like that.
“You shouldn’t have made me tell you,” she scolds, as I bundle
her in a blanket and carry her to the oversize bed where she burrows down,
giving a moan at the warmth. I summon a sunbeam, and it further heats the room.

Her words are still echoing in me.

Break and break and
break. Tiger kitten and dying gods and break. Olympus falls and a girl with
Sight and your family dying. The sun will fall in love. Break, break, break. It
breaks. It all breaks.

She’s
drowsy
now, almost asleep as I hold her close and hum a wordless
comfort in her ear. Brush her hair back and press a kiss to her hair as her
words play over and over in my head and I try to figure out what the hell I’m
supposed to do with this.

Olympus is going to die.

And I will be the one to kill it.