The Goddess Test
“It’s not something we give out lightly, and we need to make sure it is something you can handle.”
I felt a cold block of ice form in the pit of my stomach. So my choices now were to live forever or die trying. Somehow it didn’t seem fair.
“You will do well,” Henry said. “I can feel it. And afterward, you will help me do something that no one else is capable of doing. You will have power beyond imagining, and you will never fear death again. You will never grow old and you will always be beautiful. You will have eternal life to spend as you wish.”
But would I have my mother?
THE GODDESS TEST
by
Aimée Carter
“A fresh take on the Greek myths
adds sparkle to this romantic fable.”
—Cassandra Clare,
New York Times
bestselling author of
the Mortal Instruments series
“Enchanting and compulsively readable,
The Goddess Test
twists classic myth and modern storytelling
into a fun, whimsical shape. A great story for teen girls.”
—Melissa Anelli,
New York Times
bestselling author of
Harry, A History
AIMÉE CARTER
For Dad, who has read every word.
You were right.
And in memory of my mother.
“How did it happen this time?”
Henry tensed at the sound of her voice, and he tore his eyes away from the lifeless body on the bed long enough to look at her. Diana stood in the doorway, his best friend, his confidante, his family in every way except by blood, but even her presence didn’t help rein in his temper.
“Drowned,” said Henry, turning back to the body. “I found her floating in the river early this morning.”
He didn’t hear Diana move toward him, but he felt her hand on his shoulder. “And we still don’t know…?”
“No.” His voice was sharper than he’d intended, and he forced himself to soften it. “No witnesses, no footprints, no traces of anything to indicate she didn’t jump in the river because she wanted to.”
“Maybe she did,” said Diana. “Maybe she panicked. Or maybe it was an accident.”
“Or maybe somebody did this to her.” He broke away, pacing the room in an attempt to get as far from the body as pos
sible. “Eleven girls in eighty years. Don’t tell me this was an accident.”
She sighed and brushed her fingertips across the girl’s white cheek. “We were so close with this one, weren’t we?”
“Bethany,” snapped Henry. “Her name was Bethany, and she was twenty-three years old. Now because of me, she’ll never see twenty-four.”
“She never would have if she’d been the one.”
Fury rose up inside of him and threatened to bubble over, but when he looked at her and saw compassion in her eyes, his anger drained away.
“She should have passed,” he said tightly. “She should have
lived
. I thought—”
“We all did.”
Henry sank into a chair, and she was by his side in an instant, rubbing his back in the sort of motherly gesture he expected from her. He tangled his fingers in his dark hair, his shoulders hunched with the familiar weight of grief. How much more of this was he supposed to endure before they finally released him?
“There’s still time.” The hope in Diana’s voice stabbed at him, more painful than anything else that had happened that morning. “We still have decades—”
“I’m done.”
His words rang through the room as she stood still next to him, her breathing suddenly ragged and uneven. In the several seconds it took for her to respond, he considered taking it back, promising he would try again, but he couldn’t. Too many had already died.
“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, I
will
lose you.”
Henry turned away from her, struggling to hold himself together. “That is no great sacrifice.”
Diana spun him around to face her. “Don’t,” she snapped. “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. He had no choice 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, 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 will be 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 Henry 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.
EDEN
I spent my eighteenth birthday driving from New York City to Eden, Michigan, so my mother could die in the town where she was born. Nine hundred and fifty-four miles of asphalt, knowing every sign we passed brought me closer to what would undoubtedly be the worst day of my life.
As far as birthdays go, I wouldn’t recommend it.
I drove the whole way. My mother was too sick to stay awake for very long, let alone drive, but I didn’t mind. It took two days, and an hour after we’d crossed the bridge to the upper peninsula of Michigan, she looked exhausted and stiff from being in the car for so long, and if I never saw a stretch of open road again, it’d be too soon.
“Kate, turn off here.”
I gave my mother a funny look, but turned my blinker on anyhow. “We’re not supposed to exit the freeway for another three miles.”
“I know. I want you to see something.”
Sighing inwardly, I did as she said. She was already on bor
rowed time, and the chances of her having an extra day to see it later were slim.
There were pine trees everywhere, tall and looming. I saw no signs, no mile markers, nothing but trees and dirt road. Five miles in, I began to worry. “You’re sure this is right?”
“Of course I’m sure.” She pressed her forehead to the window, and her voice was so soft and broken that I could barely understand her. “It’s just another mile or so.”
“What is?”
“You’ll see.”
After a mile, the hedge started. It stretched down the side of the road, so high and thick that seeing what was on the other side was impossible, and it must’ve been another two miles before it veered off at a right angle, forming some kind of boundary line. The entire time we drove by, Mom stared out the window, enraptured.
“This is it?” I didn’t mean to sound bitter, but Mom didn’t seem to notice.
“Of course it isn’t—turn left up here, sweetie.”
I did as I was told, guiding the car around the corner. “It’s nice and all,” I said carefully, not wanting to upset her, “but it’s just a hedge. Shouldn’t we go find the house and—”
“Here!” The eagerness in her weak voice startled me. “Right up there!”
Craning my neck, I saw what she was talking about. Set in the middle of the hedge was a black wrought-iron gate, and the closer we got to it, the bigger it seemed to grow. It wasn’t just me—the gate was monstrous. It wasn’t there to look pretty. It was there to scare the living daylights out of anyone who thought about opening it.
I slowed to a stop in front of it, trying to look between the
bars, but all I could see were more trees. The land seemed to dip in the distance, but no matter how I craned my neck, I couldn’t see what lay beyond it.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Her voice was airy, almost light, and for a moment, she sounded like her old self. I felt her hand slip into mine, and I squeezed hers as much as I dared. “It’s the entrance to Eden Manor.”
“It looks…big,” I said, mustering up as much enthusiasm as I could. I wasn’t very successful. “Have you ever been inside?”
It was an innocent question, but the look she gave me made me feel like the answer was so obvious that even though I’d never heard of this place, I should have known.
A moment later, she blinked, and the look was gone. “Not in a very long time,” she said hollowly, and I bit my lip, regretting whatever it was I’d done to break the magic for her. “I’m sorry, Kate, I just wanted to see it. We should keep going.”
She let go of my hand, and I was suddenly keenly aware of how cool the air was against my palm. As I pressed the accelerator, I slipped my hand back into hers, not wanting to let go yet. She said nothing, and when I glanced at her, she was resting her head against the glass once more.
Half a mile down the road, it happened. One moment the road was clear, and the next a cow was in the road not fifteen feet in front of us, blocking the way.
I slammed on the brakes and twisted the wheel. The car spun a full circle, throwing my body sideways. My head hit the window as I fought for control of the car, but it was useless. I might as well have been trying to get it to fly for all the good I was doing.
We skidded to a stop, miraculously missing the tree line. My
pulse raced, and I took great gulps of air, trying to calm myself down. “Mom?” I said frantically.
Beside me, she shook her head. “I’m fine. What happened?”
“There’s a—” I stopped, focusing on the road again. The cow was gone.
Confused, I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a figure standing in the middle of the road, a dark-haired boy around my age wearing a black coat that fluttered in the breeze. I frowned, twisting around to try to get a proper look out the back window, but he was gone.
Had I imagined it then? I winced and rubbed my sore head. Hadn’t imagined that part.
“Nothing,” I said shakily. “I’ve just been driving too long, that’s all. I’m sorry.”
As I cautiously urged the car forward, I looked in the rearview mirror one last time. Hedge and empty road. I gripped the wheel tightly with one hand and reached out to take hers again with my other, futilely trying to forget the image of the boy now burned into my brain.
The ceiling in my bedroom leaked. The real estate agent who’d sold us the house, sight unseen, had sworn up and down there was nothing wrong with it, but apparently the jerk had been lying.
All I did after we arrived was unpack the essentials we’d need for the night, including a pot to catch the dripping water. We hadn’t brought much, just whatever could fit into the car, and I’d already had a set of secondhand furniture delivered to the house.
Even if my mother hadn’t been dying, I was sure I’d be
miserable here. The nearest neighbors were a mile down the road, the whole place smelled like nature, and no one delivered pizza in the small town of Eden.
No, calling it small was being generous. Eden wasn’t even marked on the map I’d used to get here. Main Street was half a mile long, and every shop seemed to either sell antiques or groceries. There were no clothing boutiques, or at least no place that would ever carry anything worth wearing. There wasn’t even a McDonald’s, Pizza Hut, Taco Bell—nothing. Just an outdated diner and some Mom and Pop store that sold candy by the pound.
“Do you like it?”
Mom sat curled up in the rocking chair near her bed, her head supported by her favorite pillow. It was so worn and faded that I couldn’t tell what color it had originally been, but it had survived four years of hospital stays and chemotherapy. Against all odds, so had she.
“The house? Yeah,” I lied, tucking in the corners of the sheet as I made her bed. “It’s…cute.”
She smiled, and I could feel her eyes on me. “You’ll get used to it. Maybe even like it enough to stay here after I’m gone.”
I pressed my lips together, refusing to say anything. It was an unspoken rule that we never talked about what would happen after she died.
“Kate,” she said gently, and the rocking chair creaked as she stood. I looked up automatically, ready to spring into action if she fell. “We need to talk about it sometime.”
Still watching her out of the corner of my eye, I tugged the sheet down and grabbed a thick quilt, arranging it on the bed. Pillows soon followed.
“Not now.” I pulled the covers back and stepped aside so
she could crawl in. Her movements were slow and agonizing, and I averted my eyes, not wanting to see her in so much pain. “Not yet.”
Once she was settled, she looked up at me, her eyes red and tired. “Soon,” she said softly. “Please.”
I swallowed, but said nothing. Life without her was unfathomable, and the less I tried to imagine it, the better.
“The day nurse is going to come by in the morning.” I pressed my lips to her forehead. “I’ll make sure she’s all set up and knows what to do before I head to school.”
“Why don’t you stay in here tonight?” she said, patting the empty space next to her. “Keep me company.”
I hesitated. “You need your rest.”
She brushed her cold fingertips against my cheek. “I’ll get more with you here.”
The temptation of curling up against her like I’d done when I was a child was too much to resist, not when every time I left her, I wondered if it would be the last time I’d see her alive. Tonight I would let myself avoid that pain. “Okay.”
I crawled into bed next to her, making sure she had enough blanket before I used the rest to cover my legs. Once I was sure she’d stay warm, I wrapped my arms around her, inhaling her familiar scent. Even after spending years in and out of a hospital, she still smelled of apples and freesia. She nuzzled the top of my head, and I closed my eyes before they started to water.
“Love you,” I murmured, wanting to hug her tightly but knowing her body couldn’t take it.
“I love you too, Kate,” she said softly. “I’ll be here in the morning, promise.”
As much as I wished it could be, I knew that was no longer a promise she would always be able to keep.
That night, my nightmares were relentless and full of cows with red eyes, rivers of blood, and water that rose around me until I woke up gasping. I pushed the blanket off me and wiped my clammy forehead, afraid I’d woken my mother, but she was still asleep.
Even though I didn’t sleep well, I couldn’t take the next day off. It was my first day at Eden High, which was a brick building that looked more like a large barn than a school. There were hardly enough students to bother building one in the first place, let alone keep it running. Enrolling had been my mother’s idea; after I’d missed my senior year to take care of her, she was determined to make sure I graduated.
I drove my car into the parking lot two minutes after the first bell rang. Mom had gotten sick that morning, and I didn’t trust the nurse, a round, matronly woman named Sofia, to take care of her properly. Not that there was anything particularly menacing about her, but I’d spent most of the past four years caring for my mother, and as far as I was concerned, no one else could do it right. I’d nearly skipped to stay home with her, but my mother had insisted I go. As difficult as the day had been so far, I was certain it was about to get worse.
At least I wasn’t alone in the walk of shame through the parking lot. Halfway to the building, I noticed a boy following me. He couldn’t have been old enough to drive, and his white-blond hair stuck out almost as much as his overgrown ears did. Judging from his cheery expression, he couldn’t have cared less that he was late.
He dashed forward to reach the front door before I did, and much to my surprise, he held it open for me. I couldn’t think of a single guy at my old school who would’ve done that.
“After you,
mademoiselle
.”
Mademoiselle?
I stared at the ground to avoid giving him an odd look. No use in being rude the first day.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, stepping inside and walking faster. He was taller than me though, and he caught up in no time. Much to my horror, instead of passing me, he slowed so we were walking together.
“Do I know you?”
Oh, God. Did he expect me to answer? Luckily, he didn’t seem to, as he didn’t give me a chance to respond.
“I don’t know you.”
Brilliant observation, Einstein.
“I should know you.”
Right outside the office, he swung around, placing himself between me and the entrance. Sticking out a hand, he looked at me expectantly.
“I’m James,” he said, and I finally got a good look at his face. Still boyish, but maybe he was older than I thought. His features were hardened, more mature than I’d expected. “James MacDuffy. Laugh, and I’ll be forced to hate you.”
Seeing no other choice, I forced a small smile and took his hand. “Kate Winters.”
He stared at me for longer than was strictly necessary, a goofy grin on his face. As the seconds ticked by, I stood there, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, and finally I cleared my throat.
“Er—could you maybe…?”
“What? Oh.” James dropped my hand and opened the door, once again holding it open for me. “After you, Kate Winters.”
I stepped inside, drawing my messenger bag closer. Inside
the office was a woman dressed head to toe in blue, with sleek auburn hair I’d have given my right foot to have.
“Hi, I’m—”
“—Kate Winters,” interrupted James, falling into place next to me. “I don’t know her.”
The receptionist managed to simultaneously sigh and laugh. “What is it this time, James?”
“Flat tire.” He grinned. “Changed it myself.”
She scribbled on a pink pad of paper, then tore off the sheet and handed it to him. “You walk.”
“Do I?” His grin widened. “Y’know, Irene, if you keep doubting me like this, I’m going to start thinking you don’t like me anymore. Same time tomorrow?”
She chuckled, and finally James disappeared. I refused to watch him go, instead staring down at an announcement taped to the counter. Apparently Picture Day was in three weeks.
“Katherine Winters,” said the woman—Irene—once the office door closed. “We’ve been expecting you.”
She busied herself looking through a file, and I stood there awkwardly, wishing there was something to say. I wasn’t much of a talker, but I could at least carry on a conversation. Sometimes. “You have a pretty name.”
She raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows. “Do I? I’m glad you think so. I rather like it myself. Ah, here we go.” She pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to me. “Your schedule, as well as a map of the school. Shouldn’t be too hard to find—the hallways are color-coded, and if you get lost, just ask. We’re all nice enough around here.”
I nodded, taking note of my first class. Calculus. Joy. “Thanks.”
“Anytime, dear.”
I turned to leave, but as my hand touched the doorknob, she cleared her throat.
“Miss Winters? I just—I wanted to say I’m sorry. About your mother, I mean. I knew her a very long time ago, and—well. I’m very sorry.”
I closed my eyes. Everyone knew. I didn’t know how, but they knew. My mother said her family had lived in Eden for generations, and I’d been stupid to think that I could get away with coming here unnoticed.
Blinking back tears, I turned the knob and hurried out of the office, keeping my head down in hopes that James wouldn’t try to talk to me again.
