Icon of the Indecisive

Read Icon of the Indecisive Online

Authors: Mina V. Esguerra

Tags: #Romance, #Fantasy

BOOK: Icon of the Indecisive
3.04Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Icon of the Indecisive

Interim Goddess of Love #3

Mina V. Esguerra

 

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © Mina V. Esguerra, 2013

Contact the author:

[email protected]

http://minavesguerra.com

 

Cover art for this edition designed by Tania Arpa

Photography by Rhea Bue

Included in this edition:
Gifted Little Creatures
, an
Interim Goddess of Love
short story

Icon of the Indecisive

 

 

Well, that was disappointing.

 

What is it with these big budget movies based on novels that they can't just leave an original ending alone? Who cares if it's not cinematic? The point of the entire novel is that Arturo (the sun god) sacrifices his own happiness so Anna Rosa can live a normal life. She's human and young and NOT EQUIPPED to deal with that kind of immortal love, and he knows it. So they don't have a grand happily ever after in the end
—who cares? We know he loves her, even when she's old and wrinkly, and will love her long after, like forever. That made me cry. 

 

So in the movie—a wedding? What the hell. 

 

Krista Garcia, blogging at Chic and into Flicks 

 

Chapter 1

 

If a problem cannot be defined, it cannot be solved—or, at least, it cannot be efficiently solved—because confusion over the nature of the problem can obscure attempts to provide solutions. (
Systemic Risk,
Steven L. Schwarcz)

 

He has returned! It is unexpected. I am overcome with joy. After everyone telling me that I will not survive the wait, it is over! Take that, everyone.

But now that I am holding him, caressing his shoulder, tasting his tears, I realize that it's not over.

Already he is withering, not the Quin I know him to be. First of all, the tears, which I never thought came so freely to him. And in our embrace, the only place where he allows himself to lower his guard, I sense his defeat. It is all around him, hovering. I hope he recovers. 

"Hello," he says, like it's nothing.

"Are you going back out there?" I ask.

"Yes, but there's been an unexpected truce. I came as soon as I could."

"I'm glad," I say, and I kiss him.

 

 

It happened again. Ugh.

For the nth consecutive time, I woke up minutes ahead of my own alarm clock, even though I thought hearing it was what jolted me awake. I used to like it, thinking I was getting a bonus three minutes or so, but I got over it. Now I felt cheated—give me my sleep!

Just like the previous days, I spent my non-bonus minute
s looking up at the ceiling of my room at my aunt's house. I took a long and deep breath, wondering what was in store for the Interim Goddess of Love that day.

That was me. While the Original Goddess of Love was hiding under a rock
(I didn't know where, only that she was missing), humble college student Hannah Maquiling was in training to solve the love problems of the world. Yeah, the very same girl complaining about waking up a little too early.

Look, I was getting better at this. I had learned to see into someone's memories of love just by touching them (I used to need to actually have a conversation). And my advice wasn't just empty words
—I could, with a thought, get someone to actually do it. So far, one person at a time, and only those near me, but it was a start. But I had minions. Well, I had people who were devoted to me, meaning they'd actually do something if I asked—because I had once helped them when they asked. Very helpful when I needed rides to places or change for a hundred, but not exactly an army I could command.

Original Goddess had like several thousand years of a head start, so forgive me if I could only do so much in nine months.

I peeked at my round pink alarm clock and saw that I had thirty seconds left. By the third day I looked up if there was some psychological condition covering this too-early-for-the-alarmness, and found an actual study on it. Turned out, the study's subjects that thought they had woken up before their alarm only thought there were awake—but were really in a stage of sleep. The machines hooked up to their brains said so. 

Am I even awake right now? I am, I so am.

Awake, and anxious. All this week, this waking up thing had been annoying me. And with each day, some unnamed dread was growing. What was it? Did I have a quiz? Some project I didn't prepare for?

If this is your test, Vida, it's lame. Annoying
and lame.

The Goddess of the Moon, currently in this world as college senior Vida Castillo, didn't like that I got the Interim Goddess role. She spent most of last year intimidating me, questioning my worth, and finally last week she showed up at my house and said... Something like she was going to test me...

I didn't really remember all of it. But I did remember that she said she was going to test me, but since then there had been no tests. Just spontaneous awakening. Which I could handle, no problem.

Then I started hearing the songs. A thought popped into my head. Not mine, but one of those thoughts of love that other people had, thinking they were sending it to no one in particular. I actually got those, mystically beamed into my head, carrie
d by something that resembled a song.

I started hearing many little songs. More than the usual.

This particular thought said, "He still has time to ask me out. It's Valentine's Day, after all."

Oh for crap's sake.

My alarm clock started ringing but I hid my head under the pillow. On a regular day at school I got "does he like me what if she doesn't like me" over and over, from nearly everyone as it was. What would Valentine's Day be like?  

 

 

"You're wearing red."

I loved that voice. Even when it was stating the obvious. I smiled as I stepped through the pedestrian entrance to Ford River College and said hi to Joaquin Apolinario, senior, graduating, captain of varsity basketball, also the being worshipped as the God of the Sun of the Tagalogs, technically my people.

"I meant to get my black shirt, not sure how this happened," I said. "We would have matched."

We would have. We'd be cute but totally solemn, and we'd look great together, if he were into me. All evidence was pointing to "no."

Sigh.

"What's up?" I asked, surprised that he fell into step beside me.

"Nothing."

I had a psych textbook with me and hugged it because I needed something to do with my suddenly-restless arms. Quin, I should say, wasn't a "nothing" sort of guy. He was always with purpose, very leaderly, and I didn't believe that he was just walking to my locker with me
on Valentine's Day
for nothing at all. Especially since the last time we really talked was right after I had defied one of his direct orders (stay away from someone).

"All right," Quin said. "It's not nothing. I want to help you today."

"With what?"

"It's your first February 14 as interim goddess. You might get overwhelmed with... feelings."

"You don't think I can handle it?"

He picked the book out of my arms in one easy movement, meaning to be helpful, but suddenly I had nowhere to hide. "It's not about what you can or can't do... I just want to help."

Without meaning to, I took the path that would cut across the open field, and we pretty much just walked right through the middle of the school. Quin, in black and jeans, most popular guy on campus, and me, in a Look At Me on Valentine's Day red top. Everyone turned to watch. They did that for him, because he was tall and popular and just so teen heartthrob handsome, but they were starting to do that for me, by association.

Walking through it was strange, in another way. I felt like I was walking through a noisy crowd, except the noise had texture to it too. Feelings, memories, love-related fears reaching out to me. Wanting to be noticed. Wanting the attention of the goddess.

"I didn't get to tell you," Quin was saying, "that you handled yourself very well, when you dealt with that guy."

When I nearly singlehandedly took care of a potential threat to the gods, he meant. My best friend Sol's then-boyfriend Neil had somehow developed the ability to command people
—even gods—to follow his bidding. But I stopped him, despite being told by Quin to keep my distance.

"You're welcome," I said, letting a little giggle escape. "I didn't hear a 'sorry' by the way."

He smiled. It looked genuine, and he looked happy, or amused at least. "I'm so very, very sorry I doubted you, Hannah."

"I forgive you," I said. "I think I'm going to have a busy day today and I appreciate any help, Quin."

We stopped in front of my locker, and I heard a plea that I couldn't ignore.

I really miss him. This day sucks. I should have stayed at home.

I still looked at nearby people when I heard it, as if it had come from within earshot. But it didn't have to; my range for picking up these thoughts was growing, and it could have been from anywhere on campus.

Quin heard it too.

"What do you want her to do?" he asked me.

I paused. "I want her to remember that today is just another day, and she has friends who'd love to spend time with her tonight, and they'll have a blast."

That was how the Goddess of Love worked. Your heart's song summoned her, and she would tell it what to do and how to feel. I was still learning how to do it over distance and without actually seeing the person I was doing it to, but for veteran gods this was easy. Quin was training me to do it though, and training for Quin was a slow and tedious process that didn't allow for shortcuts.

But that moment, he very gently reached for my wrist, and the quick tap of his skin against mine sent my intentions right where they were supposed to go. His touch worked like a divine amplifier, and I didn't need to work so hard. Shortcut.

"Isn't that cheating?" I said.

"You're not on training today," he said. "Plus you know there will be more. Don't want you exhausted."

You're kidding me right?

I shook my head and basked in this rare show of care. "I really don't."

 

Other books

La reina sin nombre by María Gudín
Ragtime by E. L. Doctorow
The Things We Knew by Catherine West
Games We Play by Ruthie Robinson
Hunted by Chris Ryan
Nightfall by Ellen Connor