The Goddess Test Boxed Set: Goddess Interrupted\The Goddess Inheritance\The Goddess Legacy (113 page)

“Henry, please,” she whispered. “There's twenty years left. You
can't be done.”

“It won't make a difference.”

She knelt in front of him and pulled his hands from his face,
forcing him to look at her and see her fear. “You promised me a century, and you
will
give
me a century, do you understand?”

“I won't let another one die because of me.”

“And I won't let you fade, not like this. Not if I have
anything to say about it.”

He scowled. “And what will you do? Find another girl who's
willing? Bring another candidate to the manor every year until one passes? Until
one makes it past
Christmas?
”

“If I have to.” She narrowed her eyes, determination radiating
from her. “There is another option.”

He looked away. “I've already said no. We aren't talking about
it again.”

“And I'm not letting you go without a fight,” she said. “No one
else could ever replace you no matter what the council says, and I love you too
much to let you give up. You're not leaving me any other choice.”

“You wouldn't.”

She was silent.

Pushing the chair aside, Henry stood, wrenching his hand away
from her. “You would do that to a child? Bring her into this world just to force
her into
this?
” He pointed at the body on the bed.
“You would do that?”

“If it means saving you, then yes.”

“She could
die
. Do you understand
that?”

Her eyes flashed, and she stood to face him. “I understand that
if she doesn't do this, you
will
die.”

Henry turned away from her, struggling to hold himself
together. “No great loss there.”

Diana spun him around to face her. “Don't,” she hissed. “Don't
you dare give up.”

He blinked, startled by the intensity in her voice. When he
opened his mouth to counter, she stopped him before he could speak.

“She will have a choice, you know that as well as I do, but no
matter what happens, she will not become
that,
I
promise you.” Diana gestured toward the body. “She will be young, but she will
not be foolish.”

It took Henry a moment to think of something to counter her,
and when he did, he knew he clung to false hope. “The council would never allow
it.”

“I've already asked. As it falls within the time limit, they
have given me permission.”

He clenched his jaw. “You asked without consulting me
first?”

“Because I knew what you would say,” she said. “I can't lose
you.
We
can't lose you. We're all we have, and
without you—please, Henry. Let me try.”

Henry closed his eyes, knowing that he couldn't fight this now,
not if the council agreed. He tried to picture what the girl might look like,
but each time he tried to form an image, the memory of another face got in the
way.

“I couldn't love her.”

“You wouldn't have to.” Diana pressed a kiss to his cheek. “But
I think you will.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I know you,” she said, “and I know the mistakes I made
before. I won't repeat them again.”

He sighed, his resolve crumbling as she stared at him, silently
pleading. It was only twenty years; he could make it until then if it meant not
hurting her more than he already had. And this time, he thought, glancing at the
body on the bed once more, he wouldn't repeat the same mistakes, either.

“I'll miss you while you're gone,” he said, and her shoulders
slumped with relief. “But this is the last one. If she fails, I'm done.”

“Okay,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Thank you, Henry.”

He nodded, and she let go. As she walked to the door, she too
looked at the bed, and he swore to himself that this would never happen again.
No matter what it took, pass or fail, this one would live.

“This isn't your fault,” he said, the words tumbling out before
he could stop himself. “What happened—I allowed it. You aren't to blame.”

She paused, framed in the doorway, and gave him a sad
smile.

“Yes, I am.”

Before he could say another word, she was gone.

Kate

  

Katherine Winters was born on a sunny September morning
mere weeks before the autumnal equinox. And as soon as he received news of her
birth, Henry retreated to the Underworld for the next several years, hiding
himself away from the knowledge that her death would inevitably be on his hands,
as well.

While Diana had taken on a mortal life to raise her daughter,
the council was never far, watching over Kate as if she were their salvation.
Though they never spoke about her directly to Henry at his request, he caught
snippets of conversation about her progress. About how her birth had gone; her
first day of school; about how Diana was living amongst the mortals, blending in
as if she'd always been one of them. And despite his distance, even he could
tell how happy they were together. Diana finally had the life she deserved, and
he could not have been more thrilled for her.

But as pleased as he was that she had finally moved on from her
anguish over Persephone, he could not ignore the fact that one day soon, he
would take that happiness from her, as well. And the closer they drew, the more
he thought about it, and the more he thought about it, the harder he begged
Diana to let him go. To give her daughter a life she deserved, one where she
could choose her fate. But no matter how he protested, Diana insisted again and
again that Kate would have a choice; that she would be the one to choose to be
with him, and if she did not want to try, then she would be free to live her own
life.

Henry knew better, though. Even if Kate said no when she came
of age, the council would find a way to manipulate her into it, and the very
thought of her following in her sister's footsteps made him sick. But the die
had been cast, and her fate was sealed. She would be number twelve.

“You should go see her,” said James one evening, as Henry sat
in his office with Cerberus slumbering at his feet.

Henry raised an eyebrow and peered at him. “And you should not
be here.”

James shrugged. “Gonna be my realm soon anyway, so I don't see
why it matters.”

“Is that so?” said Henry.

“Well, yeah. Unless you think this will work.”

Henry was quiet. He hoped it would work, but deep within his
mind, in a place he rarely allowed himself to visit, he knew it wouldn't. They
had done everything they could do to protect Bethany; he couldn't possibly see
what would be different about Kate. “Why are you here, James?”

“To make sure you have the chance I didn't,” he said, shoving
his hands in his pockets. “Even if something does happen to Kate, she's a great
kid. And you're an idiot if you waste any more time avoiding her.”

He narrowed his eyes. “How dare you speak to me that way—”

“How dare
you
give up on Kate
before she even has the chance to try.” James drew himself up to his full
height. “She's stronger than you know, and if she beats this, how do you think
she's going to feel, knowing you spent the first part of her life so sure she'd
die that you couldn't even bother to meet her?”

“I doubt she will care,” said Henry icily. “Considering Diana
is raising her as a mortal.”

“She'll find out who she is one day. We're all busting our
asses to protect her, making sure she's never without one of us—even Ares is
stepping up. But you can't bother because you're too much of a coward.”

“I am not a coward.” Henry stood, digging his fingertips into
the hard wood of his desk. “I have watched eleven other girls perish because of
me, and each one of them hurt as much as the one before. I do not enjoy the
thought of Diana's daughter falling victim to the same fate because of me.”

“Then do something about it. Guide her. Protect her.
Help
her. Don't hide down here acting like she doesn't
exist,” said James, and for a moment, his voice hitched. They weren't only
talking about Kate anymore, but any remorse Henry felt for keeping him from his
friend all those years ago had long since evaporated. “Even if something does
happen to her, appreciate the time you have with her. Don't ignore her in hopes
that'll make it hurt less. We both know it won't.”

Henry clenched his jaw. “You have no right to tell me what to
do.”

“And you have no right to act like she's dead already.”

They glared at each other for the better part of a minute,
neither willing to budge. A knot of frustration formed in Henry's throat,
rendering him silent regardless, and at last James sighed.

“It's her seventh birthday today,” he said. “I'm not saying you
should stay with her like you stayed with Ingrid, but I am saying it wouldn't
hurt if you went to see her. Diana would appreciate it. After all she's doing
for you—”

“Don't,” said Henry, forcing the word out through his tight
throat. “She is doing this for Kate, not for me. Kate will have a choice.”

“Then go give her that choice,” said James, and he inclined his
head. “Central Park. Sheep Meadow. They'll be there until sunset. Cerberus might
appreciate running around and stretching his legs. Can't imagine he gets much of
a chance down here.”

With that, he turned on his heel and marched out of Henry's
office, leaving him in a cloud of self-hatred and uncertainty. What would it
hurt, really, to see her? She was a child, yes, but he had no feelings for her
other than the unyielding desire to protect her from harm. How could he do that
when he didn't even know what she looked like? And if James was right, if she
did question his belief in her when she was old enough to know who she really
was…

But what if she too died? The odds were against her. Any
connection they formed would put her in certain mortal peril. How could he do
that to her, knowing her chances of survival were so slim?

Then again, what better way to protect her than to be with her
always?

He was halfway to the surface before he'd made a conscious
decision. The warm sunshine hit his face as he appeared in Sheep Meadow, and at
his feet, Cerberus shook off the Underworld gloom.

“What do you think?” said Henry, reaching down and giving his
dog a pat. “Up for finding Diana and—”

Cerberus let out a loud woof, and before Henry could create a
leash, he took off. Swearing, Henry followed, darting between small clusters of
people enjoying the late-summer sunshine. No one seemed too bothered by the
sight of a huge dog dashing through the crowd, followed by a man dressed in all
black. Then again, it was New York.

Another bark, and Cerberus skidded onto a blanket, diving
headfirst into a carefully laid-out picnic. Henry swore and hurried over,
careful to appear as if he were breathing heavily.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “My dog, he slipped his leash and—”

He stopped cold. Sitting on the blanket among the ruins of what
had once been a small feast was Diana. And beside her, giggling as Cerberus
snuffled into her hair, was a little girl.

Kate.

Her brown hair hung in a loose braid down her back, and her
blue eyes and the smattering of freckles across her nose reminded him so much of
Persephone that for a moment, he really was breathless. Whether Diana had done
it on purpose or not, she had all but re-created the daughter she'd lost. But
there was something about her, something he couldn't describe—something so
fundamentally different from her sister that in the space of a single heartbeat,
Persephone faded from his mind completely.

Kate didn't seem to be at all bothered by the fact that her
birthday picnic had been destroyed by a dog three times her size. She gave
Cerberus a kiss on the nose and turned to look at Henry, her eyes meeting his.
He froze.

She may have been seven, but there was something eternal about
her gaze. As if she could see all his thoughts, his hopes, his fears, his pain
in one look. As if she understood every moment he'd existed. She may have been
mortal, but she was without a doubt the daughter of gods.

“It's all right,” said Diana, her voice warmer and fuller than
he'd heard it in eons. “It looks like he managed to miss the cupcakes.”

“Cerberus, come,” said Henry, and he trotted obediently to his
side. Henry ducked his head as he hooked a leash up to his dog's collar, trying
to hide his shock. “Again, my apologies. If there's anything I could do to make
it up to you…”

“Really, it's no trouble,” said Diana, and she wrapped her arm
around her daughter's shoulders. “Just an excuse to gorge ourselves on cupcakes,
really. We'll get hot dogs on our way out of the park.”

“At least let me pay for those,” he said, because any mortal
would insist on the same, but Diana shook her head.

“If you want to help, you could take a few pictures for us,”
she said, offering him a camera. “They never turn out quite right when I take
them.”

Henry took the camera, a modern kind that felt lighter in his
hands than he expected. “Of course,” he said, and he peered through the lens.
Even now, Kate stood out like a beacon to him, as if she were the only flame in
a world of dark.

He would protect her. He would kill for her. He would fade for
her, if that's what it took to make sure she had the life she deserved. And even
if he never loved her the way Diana wanted him to, he would still show her the
affection and respect she deserved.

“There,” he said roughly once he'd taken an entire roll of
film. “You both look stunning.”

Kate grinned and tried to lick off the purple frosting that had
somehow wound up on her nose. “You're funny,” she said, fixing that infinite
stare on him. “Mommy, can he get hot dogs with us?”

Diana looked at him, and he hesitated. He wanted nothing more
than to spend more time with them, but to what end? She was a little girl. It
wouldn't do either of them any good for him to befriend her now, as an adult.
And he would serve her better by protecting her from afar.

“Thank you,” he said, and he handed the camera back to Diana.
“But I'm afraid I have to be somewhere. It was a pleasure meeting you. And happy
birthday, Kate. I wish you an infinite number more.”

Kate giggled again and blew him a kiss. As Diana laughed and
gathered her up in another embrace, Henry walked away. He hadn't expected that.
He hadn't expected leaving her to be one of the hardest things he'd ever done.
But if he had his way, he would make absolutely certain that he would never have
to do so again.

When he returned to the Underworld, a parcel awaited him on his
desk. Curious, he unwrapped the shimmering purple paper, wrinkling his nose with
distaste. Who would possibly send something like this to him?

The moment he set eyes on what lay beneath, however, all
question of the sender flew out of his head. Nestled in lavender tissue paper
was a black-and-white picture of Diana and Kate, both holding cupcakes as they
laughed together in Central Park. Diana must have been the one to frame the
image, and it shimmered in the candlelight, a reflection in the making. All it
needed was him.

It'd been a long time since he'd made a reflection—an image
that was more a wish than reality. But to him, this was both. In it, he saw his
future; a life he might one day have, if he fought hard enough for it. If he
protected Kate. If, when the time came, he gave her a reason to choose him.

He tucked the reflection into his pocket and took a breath.
Until then, there was something he had to do.

* * *

“Where are we going?” said James warily as Henry led him
down the aisle of the throne room. They entered the antechamber together, and
though Henry had spent much of the past thousand years avoiding him at all
costs, he offered James his hand.

“Trust me.”

James eyed him, and while Henry couldn't blame him for his
uncertainty, he was rapidly growing impatient.

“If I was going to do something terrible to you, I would have
done it centuries ago,” said Henry. “Now come on. We don't have all day.”

At last James took his hand, and the moment he did so, Henry
pushed them both through the quicksand space between the antechamber and where
he wanted to be. It was never a pleasant journey when he was dragging someone
with him across such a large distance, but at least James knew better than to
fight it.

When Henry opened his eyes, they stood in the middle of an
eleventh-century castle. Henry wouldn't have known it from any other, but the
moment they landed, James's mouth dropped open.

“Is this…?” he said, and Henry hesitated.

“I realize we have not been as close as we once were, and I
fear there is simply far too much history between us to ever allow things to be
easy once more. But we are still family, and…” He paused. “It was cruel of me to
keep this from you, no matter the past. Everyone deserves happiness, even if it
can only be found among the dead. While I cannot promise you I will always be on
stable ground, I will take steps to ensure you can visit whenever you wish.”

James gaped at him, speechless, and Henry grimaced. He hated
that look. As if it were so shocking that he would ever do something kind.

“Go,” he said. “I will be here when you are finished.”

“I can't—” James hesitated, and without warning, he lunged
forward to capture Henry in a hug. “Thank you.”

It had been a very long time since any member of his family had
dared touch him in such a way, and Henry awkwardly gave him a pat on the back.
“You are welcome. Now go, before I change my mind.”

Releasing him, James gave him a boyish grin and took off down
the corridor, guided by whatever power he had to know exactly where his
destination happened to be. Out of curiosity—or perhaps the desire to prove to
himself that happiness in the Underworld was possible after all—Henry trailed
after him.