Broken God (9 page)

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.”