The Goddess Test Boxed Set: Goddess Interrupted\The Goddess Inheritance\The Goddess Legacy (104 page)

Soon enough, a delicious scent wafted through the air, and even
my mouth started to water. I'd used my powers too much today—I needed food, and
I needed sleep. Desperately. Rabbit and quail weren't usually my thing, but
they'd have to do tonight.

Mac offered the first rabbit to Tuck, who waited until we all
had one before she started to eat. Polite to her own, at least, even if she
couldn't spare some of that grace for me.

“So how do you all know each other?” I said. They were all so
engrossed in eating their rabbits that for a moment, no one spoke. At last Tuck
stuck a bone in her mouth, sucking off the juices.

“Luck,” she said. “Our parents were killed in the war, so we
all banded together. Only way we can survive.”

“Doesn't seem like you're doing a great job of it,” I said, and
the moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Stupid, stupid, stupid
thing to say, insulting her like that in front of everyone, and I quickly added,
“I mean—can't be that easy, living in the woods by yourself.”

Tuck's expression hardened, and she threw the bone into the
fire. “We can't all be a hunting prodigy like you,” she muttered, refusing to
look at me. Didn't blame her. Why couldn't I keep my mouth shut for once?

“Tuck's brilliant,” said Perry through a mouthful of rabbit.
“She's the smartest person I know.”

“That's because the only other people you know are Sprout and
Mac,” said Tuck, but she blushed at the compliment anyway.

“Is that why you won't let me join you?” I said. “Because
you're afraid I'll replace you as leader?”

She looked at me sharply, her blue eyes guarded. So I was
right, then, “I won't let you join us because I don't trust you.”

“But I could feed you,” I said. “And I could never take your
place, you know.”

“Doesn't matter. I still don't trust you. I don't even know
your name.”

I sighed. “If I tell you my name, will you let me into your
group?”

“If you tell me your name, I'll consider letting you prove
yourself to us,” she said. “No promises.”

Clearly that was the best I was going to do, so I shrugged. I
could lie, but if she really held the answer to what was happening to my family,
then I couldn't risk destroying the shaky ground we were already on. Besides, it
wasn't as if I hadn't revealed myself to mortals before. It'd gone well in the
past. Most of the time. And between the lack of bleeding and the quick
turnaround on a feast, I'd already shown them my abilities. They had no reason
to question me.

That was the worst, when mortals went on and on, quizzing me,
testing me, demanding to see my powers in action—as if my word wasn't enough.
Which, all right, to be fair, it probably wasn't. Otherwise any crazy mortal
could go around acting like they were one of us.

So I squared my shoulders, looked her straight in the eye, and
said, “My name is Hermes.”

I expected her to gape at me, to gasp, to demand proof—any one
of the same reactions I'd gotten time and time again. Instead she stared at
me.

And—that was it. She just sat there. And blinked. And finally
said, “That's the dumbest name I've ever heard.”

Now it was my turn to stare. She'd never heard of me?
“Sometimes I go by Mercury,” I said cautiously. The Roman Empire was still
around, after all.

“That's even worse,” she said. “I mean, really. If you're going
to give yourself a nickname, at least let it be a good one.”

She really had no idea. Normally that wouldn't have been any
big deal, but we weren't that far from Greece, and this island had once been
part of the Roman Empire. Yet she didn't have a clue. None of them did.

We were their gods, their rulers—our word was absolute, or at
least it was to them. How was it possible they didn't even realize we
existed?

“So,” she said, interrupting my thoughts. “Since Hermes and
Mercury won't do, what are we going to call you?”

I bit my tongue. The last thing I needed was for her to take a
sarcastic response seriously. “I don't know. What do you consider to be a
proper
name?”

Tuck drummed her fingers on her thigh. Even when she was
sitting there, doing nothing but thinking, there was something incredibly
intriguing about her. Something didn't fit. The way she held herself, the way
she spoke—she was too cultured for this life. And for a girl to take the lead of
a pack of boys, all of whom would be stronger than her in a few short years, if
they weren't already…

Across the fire, Sprout cleared his throat. “If you two
lovebirds need a minute alone…”

Another bone went flying through the air, bouncing off his head
with surprising grace. Tuck glared. “Don't even, Sprout.”

He cowered and held up his hands in defeat. “All right, I'm
sorry!”

“You'd better be. One more wisecrack, and Perry gets your
blanket tonight. Now.” She turned back to me. “Your name. This is important, you
know. You don't have to look like you're about to burst out laughing.”

I wasn't, but for her sake, I made my expression go neutral.
“Why is this important?”

“Because your name is your destiny. It's your identity—it's
everything you are. Once you have your name, that's it. That's all you'll ever
be.”

“And yet you're giving me a new one,” I said, and she
shrugged.

“Sure, because once you have a new name, you'll be a new
person. Not literally, obviously,” she said when I opened my mouth to protest.
“But in the eyes of everyone else, you're fresh. You're unknown, a blank slate,
and your name decides whether you stand out, blend in—you can fool yourself into
thinking you're more than your name, but you never will be. Not until you start
over and make another one for yourself.”

Something pinged in the back of my mind, but I was too caught
up in the way her lips moved to pay any attention. “So who am I then?”

She tapped her chin, and I held my breath. I understood what
she was saying far better than she probably thought I did; I'd had plenty of
names before, after all, but for some reason, this seemed monumentally more
important than all the rest. “James,” she said. “Definitely a James.”

I raised an eyebrow. So much for monumental. “James?
Really?”

“Yes, really. What's wrong with James?”

“Nothing, I just—”

“You just what?”

I watched her for a long moment, and she didn't so much as
blink. “It'll do,” I finally said, and she grinned.

“Of course it will. You don't look like much, but a lot is
happening underneath the surface. That's the kind of name James is.” Popping a
few berries into her mouth, she chewed slowly, her eyes fluttering shut as if
she were savoring them. “Mmm. I've never had these before. You're sure they're
not poisonous?”

“Positive. Despite your strange taste in names, I wouldn't do
that to you.”

“I'm not so sure.” She opened her eyes again and glanced around
the circle, as if she was sizing everyone up. “All right, James. You really want
the chance to prove yourself to us?”

They weren't getting rid of me, but I might as well be polite
about it. “Yes.”

“If you're going to run with us, you're going to have to steal.
You think you can do that?”

“I think I can manage.”

“Tomorrow the earl who owns this land is going to be coming
down that trail—”

“Tuck!”
cried Perry, but Sprout
clapped his hand over his mouth.

“—and you have to rob him.”

Perry squirmed in Sprout's grip, but I held Tuck's gaze. A
robbery. Easy enough. I'd done plenty of those in my lifetime. “Anything in
particular you want me to take?”

She toyed with the end of her braid, but there was something in
the way she watched me that made it clear this was more than just some robbery
to her. A hunger that hadn't been there before. “Let's make it interesting.
Steal the pendant from around his neck, along with any other valuables you
find.”

“And if I can do it?”

“Then you'll be one of us.”

“And if I don't?”

“You show us how you hunt, and then you leave us alone.
Forever.”

Forever was much, much longer than she realized. I stuck my
hand out, and she grasped my fingers, her grip surprisingly strong. “Deal,” I
said.

She smirked, and my stomach did a flip-flop. “Deal.”

* * *

The convoy approached our section of the trail shortly
after dawn. Six men, all riding stallions that pranced too much to be completely
broken. Good. That would work in my favor.

It was easy enough to tell who the leader was—not the man at
point who wore a cape with an insignia on it. Judging by the way he tilted
slightly to his left, toward an older man who sat up straighter than the others
and stuck his nose in the air, the first was a decoy. The other man was the real
earl.

Tuck, Sprout, Perry and Mac—who still hadn't said a single word
to me—all waited in the trees, shielded by the thick foliage. Even if someone
did spot them, they'd have the advantage, and that calmed my nerves. The last
thing I wanted was to have to escort one of them down into the Underworld.
Judging by the way Perry had deftly avoided me that morning, however, I figured
they all expected me to be the one who bit the dust.

I sat in a tree as well, much lower than the others, and I
waited. The procession had to squeeze through the narrow pathway, the horses
bumping one another and spooking, but there wasn't anywhere to go. They were
trapped. I held my breath and slowly counted. Three, two, one…

Leaping from the tree, I landed squarely on the back of the
earl's horse, and I held a piece of sharp rock to the old man's neck. The other
men shouted, and their horses reared. But despite flying hooves and the screech
of metal against metal as they unsheathed their swords, I held on tight. This
was the easy part.

“Can't run me through, not without hurting your master, as
well,” I said, snatching the pendant that hung around the earl's neck. Whatever
it was, it meant more to Tuck than my life—not that that was saying much, but
still.

“Let me be,” he wheezed. “Take whatever you wish.”

“I already have.” I nodded to the other horsemen. “Unload your
packs on the side of the trail. Don't hold anything back.”

The earl waved a trembling hand, and one by one, the others
dumped the contents of their packs into a pile. Even though they were armed and
far bigger physically than I was, they sensed what Tuck clearly hadn't—my
godhood. My immortality. The natural fact that I was
more
than they were.

Maybe Tuck did realize it. Maybe she just clung to her
leadership so tightly that she couldn't yield to anything, even instinct. Didn't
matter, really. I didn't want her job. I wanted the answers she didn't know she
had.

“Good,” I said once they'd finished. “The rest of you, go up
the trail. Once you're gone, I'll let your leader go.”

The guards did as I said, disappearing as fast as they could
spur their skittish horses into submission. I held on to the earl until they
were out of sight, and after I waited half a minute, I loosened my grip on him.
“Leave. And if I receive any word of retaliation, your neck will be the least of
your worries.”

The moment I jumped off his horse, they took off, the old man
clinging to the beast for dear life. I should've felt sorry for him, and part of
me did, I suppose—it'd hardly been a fair fight. But whoever he was, he was
clearly much better off than Tuck and her gang. And I couldn't muster up an
apology for helping them.

“That was brilliant!” cried Perry from far above me, and he
slid down the trunk of the tree and scampered toward me. “How did you do
that?”

“I think we'd all like to know,” said Tuck, and she swung down
from the lowest branch, landing on her feet. “How did you manage to convince the
most fearsome earl in the land to give up his most prized possession?”

“What, this?” I said, holding up the pendant. She made a grab
for it, but I pulled it back, far out of her reach.

“Give it,” she growled, and I grinned.

“You said I had to steal it. You never said I had to give it to
you.”

“Mac!” she said. “A little help?”

Mac, who was busy rummaging through the pile the guards had
left behind, raised his head and blinked. And without saying a word, he ducked
back down to examine a bag of beans. My grin grew wider.

“Tell me why you want it, and I'll give it to you,” I said.

“It's worth your weight in gold, that's why.”

But the cautious way she watched the pendant didn't make sense.
She didn't act greedy about it—instead she reeked of desperation. Like this
meant more to her than air. “I don't believe you.”

“I don't care,” she snapped. “Hand it over, or I'll change my
mind about you joining us.”

She wasn't getting rid of me no matter what she wanted to
think, but I needed her cooperation. And she didn't handle teasing very well.
Dangerous combination.

“All right, you win,” I said, and I offered her the pendant.
She snatched it from me, cradling it as if she was holding her heart in her
hand. What could possibly be so important about a necklace? “Just do me a favor
from here on out.”

“What?” she mumbled, turning the pendant over in her hands. She
wasn't admiring it or appraising its worth—she was inspecting it for damage.