Rifts (7 page)

"Greaaaat."

He led me down the hallway through a series of passages until we finally stopped at a heavy iron door that was carved in intricate designs.

"Beautiful door."

"Your mother created it. The artwork is actually spells designed to keep me in."

"Oh." Oops. Reminding Zeus of his imprisonment wasn't the best way to remain on his good side.

"She's a talented crafter," he paused and took a deep breath. "I miss her," he finished quietly.

I put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "I know."

He opened the door and led me into a medium sized chamber filled with sunshine. Rich, vibrant colored pillows and furniture littered the room and it reminded me of the first place Diana had taken me.

Was it weird that I didn't miss
her
so much as I missed the lack of mother? People stood in awe of her. I could understand why. I'd read the legends. What haunted me was the look of unadulterated love on her face as she'd pulled my father through the Rift to save me. My heart squeezed at the memory and I felt the need to sit down.

We'd been in Olympus for a month already. Dylan had taken to training like a little duck to water - while I was struggling and incredibly annoyed that I was lumped into kids' classes. It still felt odd being here.

The first week was spent being paranoid that Brandon would charge me with kidnapping and I'd never be able to go back to my life. Athena finally squashed that by paying him a "visit.” She refused to tell me what she'd said to him - or even did to him - to make him sign papers granting me full custody for the immediate future. I wasn't sure whether I was grateful or afraid.

Once that matter had been settled, I'd been thrown into a 'Controlling your Powers for Beginners' class. My peers were all ten through thirteen. Dylan, also in that class, had snickered at me and said I must be squidgy for them to put me in with the babies. If you knew what squidgy meant in our household, you would be affronted for me. Trust me.

But things were great, right? We were getting to where we needed to be to remain safe. Dylan was learning to control his temper along with his powers and I was making stride with my own changes. So why was my heart filled with a hollow ache? I realized that this had been the longest I'd gone without talking to Drew since he'd shown up at my door. Somewhere in my head, I'd thought that he was my best friend. But you don't build friendships based on lies.

At this point it wasn't just that he'd lied about being Dylan's father. He was a married man. I'd kissed and fantasized about a
married man.
That's not the kind of woman I was. There were some cardinal rules and I didn't break them. If I was one of
those
girls, I'd have plopped myself into Fred's life - one of my best friends - wife be damned.

I suppose that three hundred years is good grounds for a separation. He may have truly believed that she was dead. I wondered briefly if they were together now - happily reuniting over one of his awesome dinners and a good bottle of wine.

Zeus' beautiful voice interrupted my thoughts and I refocused on his face. What had he been saying?

"You haven't heard a word I've said…"

"Nope. I've completely ignored this entire conversation." What was the point in lying? He'd know right away.

"Want to tell me again what happened between you and my son?"

"Want to tell
me
what happened between me and your son? Cause frankly, I have no idea. One minute he was my best friend. In less than seven seconds that was destroyed by an illusion and a lie." He raised an eyebrow at my dramatic proclamation but stayed silent.

"I still can't figure out why nobody thought it was prudent to tell me that he had been - or was still - married to my sister."

"It wasn't as if you were sleeping together, Grace. I imagine that nobody thought it was relevant."

"Oh, but as you know, we sure did do the nasty in the pasty. Where do you think Dylan sprouted from? The doorknob?"

"That, m'dear, was just as much of a surprise to me as it was to you."

"How did things get so complicated? I mean, weren't they complicated enough before?"

"Life is what you make of it. You either survive the punches or you lay down. I have undeniable proof that you're a survivor, Grace. You just need to put this out of your mind so you can be as strong as possible." His face softened as he laid his harsh truth on me.

I nodded around the doubt and sat down in an overstuffed chair. "Hope is a nasty piece of work, Zeus. I don't know what she was like before, but she's become pure evil. Geb really fucked with her head."

"How does that make you feel?"

"Guilty," I replied with a grimace. Feeling guilty wasn't on the top five list of favorite things.

"Do you think that you've had it any easier than she has? If I recall you were tortured, kidnapped and left to fend for yourself for most of your life. Uh…I guess I should apologize for that bit."

I shot him a baleful look and nodded. "Apology accepted. Let's just try to forget it happened."

"Good advice. So here you sit, strong and tempered like a fine blade. She on the other hand, is quite obviously unbalanced. What is the difference? She had all of the love and adoration anyone could ask for as she grew to womanhood."

"Do you think that it's her human blood?" I bit my lip and looked at him with uncertainty.

"It could be. Or, it could be that she grew up without the challenges that you faced. She always had a safety net. The only hardship in her life happened when Geb kidnapped her."

"Why are you taking my side on this? Shouldn't you be defending her? Drew described her as a paragon of virtue, strength and beauty."

"Are those really strengths? Being beautiful and virtuous? Or is surviving adversity to conquer not only your fears but also kick some ass? Think about that. You remind me of my daughter. Athena is my pride and joy. She is the embodiment of everything that we as a race should stand for…and the girl is just plain sassy."

I laughed. She
was
sassy. If I'd ever wanted to model myself after anyone, it would be her.

"Don't let Drew hear that she's your pride and joy. It would hurt his feelings."

"Pfft, that boy doesn't need anything else to enlarge his ego. I won't admit it to anyone else, but I'm proud of him. Excepting his recent behavior, he's chosen to be noble and good. He's a strong fighter and generally exhibits excellent judgment. I thought he'd finally picked an exceptional mate. I would have been proud to call you daughter."

"Yeah," I responded quietly. "Well, you know…technically, I am your daughter now - even if it's only through marriage. And I guess that Dylan is your grandson. Holy mother of pizza. He's totally fucked. He's got such a mixed bag of genetics. Who knows what’s going to come out of him."

"Ahh yes, my protégé. I've been teaching him to control his storm abilities. He's the only one who has exhibited an affinity for my powers. I'm really quite excited. Finally someone I can mentor."

"Well, don't mentor too much," I began sternly. "You saw how those kids treated me - knowing that I was connected to Diana and then you. We don't need him to be ostracized before he even gets started. And I really don't want him thinking that he's on tap to rule the roost. Damn kid is cocky enough."

Despite my words, I was smiling like an idiot by the time I'd finished. Dylan was special. I'd always known that. He was awkward in his own skin, but he was still the wonderful little boy that had curled up next to me wanting stories of heroes and monsters.

I was afraid that knowing the full extent of his powers would twist that. I should know better but Stan Lee wasn't wrong. With great power comes great responsibility and since he generally couldn't bring himself to pick up his dirty clothes, trusting him to not sizzle a city with a stray lightning bolt or blizzard was a bit much.

"You made the right decision bringing him here. He needs to learn control. He needs to understand the consequences of his choices."

"I would have liked him to have led a normal life with kids and a wife and a white picket fence."

"The white picket fence is a myth Grace. If you don't get that by now, you are going to spend a very long time disappointed."

"I imagine that I'll come to grips eventually." I smiled ruefully at this man who had killed me and then shown me kindness. I'm not sure what flipped the switch on his personality but I was grateful for his guidance and his words.

He felt the need to apologize and the apology was gladly accepted. But I didn’t think badly of him despite that. How odd that I could forgive Zeus and not my own father.

"Thank you for this talk. I really mean it. Your friendship means a great deal to me." I rose from my seat and walked over to him so I could give him a hug. I wanted him to know how much his support meant.

"Er," he stiffened uncomfortably. "It is my pleasure?"

I sighed. "Just hug me back. You'll get used to it eventually."

"I – I just put this shirt on and the last time we did this, I couldn't get the snot out of it. It was a favorite," he groused. But he hugged me anyway and I felt truly safe and loved in those few moments.

So, what I wanted to do was mope. I'd been listening to a lot of
The
Cure
and
Fleetwood Mac
lately. I was a cross between Emo and…well, I didn't know what listening to
Fleetwood Mac
made me. But I was a sad sack and unfortunately, my circumstances didn't allow for a lot of moping.

"Oh my God! I can't believe you don't know how to create a box. Seven year olds learn how to make boxes." The Cherub was taunting me.

"Listen pipsqueak, I can make a box. I've got things on my mind. Shut it or I'm going to bury you."

"Pfft, like I'm afraid of you. You're a romance novelist, Grace. Romance writers aren't scary."

There was a small rumble in the ground and suddenly Alton was buried up to his neck. He squeaked and I fought valiantly to hide my grin.

"Scared now?"

"Get me out!"

"Ask your mommy. I'm sure she'll dig you out." I was interrupted by panting and wheezing.

"Mom, can I have a drink of your water?"

Dylan had run up behind me and the poor kid was drenched in sweat. He'd stopped complaining a week ago, but I knew that inside he was dying a little. Gone were the lazy days of videogames and chocolate milk.

Part of his training was intensely physical and the baby fat cheeks that I'd loved so much were sharpening as he lost that last layer. The kid was becoming lanky. My heart hurt for that loss and it made me want to hold him close so I could stay the hands of time. Instead, I decided to mess with him. Listen. Messing with your child is a fundamental part of parenting. So, maybe he'd need a little time in the chair to get over it. Therapists need to send their kids to college, too. Who am I do deny someone else's kid a college education?

"No way, you're the king of backwash."

"Mooom. Seriously, I'm dying of thirst."