The Immortal Game (book 1) (14 page)

Her head snapped around to the front window. The shadow of a tall figure stood in the drizzle outside. A moment of fear washed over her. Then her heart began to thud in earnest, her body knowing, even before her mind, the exact height, the outline of the curly hair, the length of the leg.

She stood, her own legs shaking. Why was he out there? Why not appear here, in front of her? Her emotions swung from relief, to anger, to joy, and back through them all. She had wished and hoped for this moment, but now that he was here she didn’t know what to feel. What should she say? What had he come to say to her?

She tried to gauge his health as she approached the locked door. A streetlight behind him lit up a slanted cone of drizzle. It gave her enough light to see that his limbs were straight and that there was no blood on the jeans or the black leather jacket he wore.

His eyes followed her movements.

She opened the door and stepped back, making room for him to enter. He walked past her, close enough for her to smell ozone and send a charge across her skin.

She scanned his back. No blood there either. Anger seeped in with her relief and she crossed her arms over her chest. He turned to look at her. His eyes were dark, rimmed in red, and sunk deep in dark sockets.

“Where have you been?” she asked. She tried to keep her nerves steady.

“Lots of places.” His voice was husky and low, as though it had been worn out.

The roughness of his voice softened her anger. “Ares …” she whispered and her crossed arms dropped to her sides.

A small smiled touched his lips when she said his true name, but he turned away before she could see if the smile held. He walked to her table and pulled the history text toward him.

“The Battle of Leuthen,” he said. “Frederick II and Charles of Lorraine. Old Fritz used the Oblique Order against the Austrians.” His eyes flicked in her direction. “Worked like a charm.”

“Ares, where have you been? I’ve been so worried.”

He smiled again, but it didn’t touch the pain in his eyes. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist it.” His two hands came together; the fingers on the right twisted the dark ring on the left.

She moved to him and placed her hands over his. He grabbed at her and held her hands tight, as though he would not have dared to make the first move.

She felt the buzzing, the sting, the burn; strong and constant. The energy of war flowed from Ares into her. It nearly rattled her bones. She held on despite the pain. She hoped to see his eyes clear, but he shut them. She felt the energy ebb and fade, though it didn’t disappear completely.

“What can I do?” she asked.

He shook his head. “There’s nothing. I can’t fight it. You can’t help me.” He opened his eyes, still dark and shadowed. “It’s out of my control. All I can do is ride it.”

“I don’t understand.” She squeezed his hands tighter. “Why isn’t it working?”

“The hate is too strong.” He shook his head and raised their joined hands. He scoffed. “We don’t make a big enough difference.”

“Ares, it’s you.” The thought surprised her, but it felt true. “Stop fighting.”

He shook his head. “I can’t—”

“Hate is about fear and suspicion,” She spoke over his doubts. “Love is about trust. And I trust this.” She shook their held hands. “If you want it, you have to be brave. If you want it, you have to jump.”

He swallowed and looked at her. “How?”

She shrugged, and from somewhere deep and unscripted she said, “Lay down your weapons.”

“Surrender?” His brow creased in disbelief. “I don’t give up. I don’t lose.”

“Then change your mind.”

His head tilted to the side. His lips parted and his eyes searched for something around her.

“Then we can go to Olympus,” she said. She now knew there was nothing in life for her without him. “We’ll do whatever it takes to be together.”

He gently pulled his hands away from hers and reached into his jacket. He pulled out a sleek black gun, square around the edges and modern looking. He held it between them.

She licked her dry lips. “Why do you have that?”

“I was going to a war,” he laughed. “It helps to have a gun. And usually a bigger one.” He looked down at the pistol. “I didn’t use it, though. I went so that I could be a part of it, so that I could feel the rush of it.” He inhaled and half-closed his eyes. When he opened them he looked at her. “I missed you.”

He bent down on one knee and laid the gun at her feet. “I love you, Ruby. You are where I want to begin.”

She touched his lowered head and slid her fingers through his silky hair. The electric feeling of him calmed to a smooth stream.

His fingers worked at something in his hands. He looked up and held it out to her.

His ring.

“Ruby,” he whispered. “Be my beginning.”

She blinked. “Ares—”

“The thing is,” he interrupted. “Even on Olympus you’ll still be human. We’ll only be together for a little while. I need you to be with me for forever.”

She shook her head, not entirely sure what he was saying.

“
Hieros gamos
,” he said. “The marriage of two gods. Only Zeus can perform it and only Hera can bless it. I can make you a goddess.” He smiled and this time his eyes brightened. “Ruby, marry me.”

A
goddess
? Immortal? She couldn’t imagine any of it.

She took the black ring from him. It was heavier than she expected. The surface was rough and pitted.
Old
, she had thought once, but she had no idea then.

It was thousands of years old, he told her: iron, and made for him by his brother, Hephaestus, the god of forge and fire. “To remind me of my weaknesses.”

“Who would make a ring like that?” she asked. She thought she saw a darkness pass over his features but it was hard to tell in the dim light of the empty coffeehouse.

“It’s a long story,” he said. “For another time. I want you to wear it now. It will remind me of our strength. The war is already slipping away. I can feel it. The pain and the suffering are nearly gone. We are
meant
to be together, Ruby.”

She felt the weight of it all, the ring, the power he had—the power
they
had—the fact that she was tied to him in a way she never knew one person could be tied to another.

“Our love is your future,” he said. “When you’re a goddess the energy that is attuned to you will become your influence. You
will
help people. That will be
your
legacy.”

She had already promised to do whatever it took to be with him, and in truth she knew that he was right. She did belong with him. This was her moment to trust her instincts, her moment to be afraid and do it anyway. This was her moment to jump.

She thought of the prophecy, but there was no way she could know the future, even if Apollo thought he had a pretty good idea. And the past was full of loneliness and isolation.

She looked at the ring again and back to him. “Yes, Ares, I will mar—”

But his lips were already on hers.

ELEVEN

Athena’s living room walls were lined with white shelves of books. Ruby could smell the old paper and linen. Interspersed among the books were earthen statues, rough-hewn bowls, and weather-worn glass vessels.
Museum
was the word that came to Ruby’s mind.

“You’re being reckless,” Sage said. She leaned in the doorway that led to her kitchen in a plush white robe. “I’m willing to support you, but not this way. It’s not just you who’ll pay.”

“I’m willing to risk it,” Ares said. They had come straight from Athenaeum. Now that their plan was set, now that they were going to Olympus to face Zeus and ask him to marry them, Ares wasted no time.

“Do you think he’ll hesitate to send you to Tartarus? Or worse?” Sage asked. “Do you think he’ll let her live for more than a minute?” She only glanced at Ruby.

A shock of fear ran through Ruby to hear her possible fate stated so plainly. She glanced at the reflection in the sliding glass doors on the far side of the living room. She and Ares stood across from Athena. She didn’t want them to fight. What might happen on Earth if gods decided to fight? She realized that if Langston’s prophecy came true she might find out before too long.

“Turn on the radio,” Ares said. “I’m sure the news is everywhere.”

Sage stared at him a moment and then reached into the kitchen. The sound of a tired announcer filled the room. “…odd and amazing. Events that we will surely tell our grandchildren about.”

“What is this?” Sage said. “Another cease-fire?”

Instead of answering her he looked at Ruby.

“It’s three-thirty a.m., folks,” the announcer said. “If you’re just tuning in, breaking news this morning: neither the Rogues nor the Allies, nor any country in Africa or Asia, not even the long-standing armies in the Middle East can rally their troops to war today. Soldiers across the world have laid their weapons down at their feet and have refused to fight.”

“You wanted world peace,” he said to Ruby.

She took in a sharp breath and felt the newness of his ring on her finger. Somehow it fit her perfectly despite the fact that Ares had worn it on his larger hand for thousands of years. “A trick of the metal,” he had said when she slipped it on.

“Ares, are you sure you want to bring this down on yourself?” Sage said. Now she did look at Ruby. “On her?” Her tone was serious, not angry. “I see the value. There’s no denying that, but do you want to become Zeus’s next great example of why he should not be crossed?”

Ruby felt lightheaded at the thought of Zeus and eternal punishment. She glanced at the sliding glass doors again. “I need some fresh air.”

“Are you okay?” Ares asked her.

She nodded, but looked away quickly. She didn’t want him to see that she was afraid, that she might lose her nerve if she heard what Athena had to say.

Cold misty air met her when she slid the door open. The large balcony, complete with barbeque and cushioned patio set, seemed so human. It reassured her.

She rested her elbows on the waist-high railing and looked down into the courtyard garden below. There was a large statue of a man holding a huge orb on his back with spotlights around him; Atlas.

She felt a little like that now. Like the weight of the world was on her shoulders.

Tall trees jutted almost leafless black branches into a dark indigo sky. Autumn was wearing on. Was she on the threshold of a new life, a completely different life than she ever imagined, or was she on the precipice of her death? And if it was the latter, what would it mean for Ares, who would live no matter what? What kind of punishment might he suffer?

She didn’t want to think of those things. She couldn’t. Not now. If all she accomplished in her life was to love Ares, her contribution to humanity would be a time of peace. “At least for a little while,” she said out loud and at the same time she felt, more than saw, Ares standing next to her.

“What’s for a little while?” he asked, leaning close.

“Atlas, right?” She asked before he could claim an answer.

He looked from her face to the garden. “Yes, Atlas. Holding up the heavens.”

“I thought he held up the Earth.”

“He keeps the heavens separate from the Earth. Compliments of Zeus after the Great War.”

The weight of the heavens was on her, she corrected her earlier thought, and realized that the analogy was more accurate.

“Why didn’t Zeus send him to Tartarus with Kronos and the rest of the Titans?” She thought of the vision Athena shared with her. Which punishment would be worse?

Ares gave her a sidelong glance as if he were surprised she knew so much about it.

“It’s in a lot of books,” she said, repeating what he told her about the Battle of Hastings, what seemed like years ago.

“I don’t know why. You can ask him yourself.”

Her skin prickled at the thought of meeting Zeus.

“Athena said she’d help us,” he said.

Ruby exhaled and leaned in against the cold metal rail of the balcony. At least she would have one friend besides Ares in all of this.

“She’s taking a great risk for us,” he said. “If it doesn’t work out like I think it will, if I can’t get him to accept you, he’ll leave none of our allies unpunished.”

Ruby shivered at his wording. Their allies. The war had started when the Rogues broke a decades-old peace treaty with the Allies. So, weren’t she and Ares the Rogues? Weren’t they the ones breaking the rules?

“I need to go,” he said. “I need to find a way to get you to Olympus.” He kissed her on the forehead and stepped away.

“Now?” she asked. He had just come back and she didn’t want to be without him again.

“Try to rest,” he said.

She turned to the garden. “Will I ever get to come back?”

He didn’t answer.

He was already gone.

…

The familiar smell of home hit Ruby when she walked through the front door. She had been afraid that she would second-guess her decision to go to Olympus if she came back to the old house, but she could not leave without saying good-bye. Memories flooded her; birthday parties, Christmases with her father, long months with the nannies and au pairs who raised her.

She glanced to the rose-colored chair in the front room and to the couch across from it. She pictured herself and her father, talking and laughing with the chess board between them. The chair was the same one Ares had eaten Ambrosia Bars in after he healed from the bullet wound in his chest. Despite her worry for him at the time, and Athena and Apollo’s anger, even that memory felt sweet.

She tried to conjure something of her mother, but she had been a baby when her mother died in the car accident and there was no memory to summon. Furniture and pictures were the only connection Ruby had to her.

Her parents’ faces smiled from the photos that ran up the staircase. What would they think of her now? She realized that in truth she didn’t really know what they would have wanted for her. She had barely known either of them.

She wasn’t giving up her dreams, she reminded herself. She was owning them. She might get to see history in the making and the next chapters in the story of humankind. She would understand the hows and the whys of the things that happened. If Zeus accepted her.