Amends: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Series (A Diana Hawthorne Supernatural Mystery Book 2)

by Carissa Andrews

  Excellent. This bodes well.

  “I have some ideas. However, it was but a few days ago when I became aware of a return to this…existence,” he says, suggesting toward his being. His lips press tightly as he shoots a sideways glance at Blake.

  Who is the gentleman? Kyros’s thoughts reach out, entering my mind in with the two-way communication link only he and I have ever shared.

  Obviously, he isn’t certain how openly he can speak with a stranger beside us. Only, Blake’s no stranger at all. Not to either of us.

  I glance over to Blake, then double-take, thanks to the look on his face. Despite myself, I laugh out loud. His expression is tight and he looks like an infant who’d been given a bit of lemon for the first time.

  If it’s even possible, his eyebrows lower further.

  Covering up my case of the giggles, I clear my throat, and I extend a hand out toward Kyros. “Blake, this…is Kyros. He’s—” Again, words escape me and I struggle to explain something that makes zero sense in my brain. “He’s…”

  A sparkle of recognition lights behind Blake’s eyes and his features soften. “Kyros?” he whispers. “Why do I remember that name?”

  Kyros snorts, mumbling under his breath something about “how he very much doubted that.”

  I marvel for a moment that he was able to understand Blake. Perhaps it’s not just my weird brain, after all. Then again, he always had a knack for understanding the language of those who wanted to see me. Besides his psychic link to me, it was sort of his gift and it kept out the…

  “Ahhhh…” I mutter, tipping my chin upward as realization slaps me upside the head. “I should have known…”

  This is Apollo’s doing.

  He’s brought back Kyros as a way to settle me back into my role.

  I inhale sharply.

  So, it begins.

  Both of the men turn their expectant gaze toward me.

  “Apollo’s brought you back,” I state, matter-of-factly as I turn to face Kyros.

  His weary features tighten and he crosses his arms over his chest wrinkling the fabric of his old-school tunic. “Well, that was fairly obvious, do you not think? Have you lost your edge, Amarantham?”

  I snicker. Lost my mind, maybe. But he has yet to see just how sharp my edge can be.

  Extending a hand out between us, I shake my head. “Please, don’t call me that. That woman is dead and buried. You’ve been gone for a fair few years, Kyros. I go by Diana now.”

  Kyros’s left eyebrow twitches, evidently trying to decide on its own accord whether or not to raise. The war is lost though when it gives out and barely arches.

  “Would someone please explain what in the hell is happening? Should I be worried?” Blake says, clearly annoyed by the lack of information.

  “Who exactly is this?” Kyros asks, maintaining steady eye contact and tipping his head toward Blake.

  “Who am I? Who the hell are you? What in the hell is happening?” Blake’s tone is fierce as he jabs a finger toward Kyros. Clearly, his brain can translate, too.

  Or is Kyros somehow speaking English now? Gods, I can’t tell anymore.

  Either way, another point for magic.

  Without allowing me to respond, Kyros steps up into his space, clearly not afraid of Blake’s bravado. He shoves his gnarly fingers into Blake's mouth, prying his lips apart and taking a good look inside. With a harumph, he moves on to his eyes, planting his thumb and index finger on opposite lids to pry them open.

  “What in the actual f—” Blake begins, tearing himself away from the old man’s clutches.

  “Anastasios?” Kryos breathes, clearly having winded himself with his exertion.

  Blake shoots me a look that puts his previous bewilderment to shame.

  Ignoring it, I take a step toward Kyros. “You can tell he’s Anastasios?”

  Kyros attempts to clasp his hand behind his back but gives up when he can’t quite get his hands to connect. “Erm, yes. It is a bit obvious, is it not?”

  I scrunch my face. I don’t know how obvious it is just by looking at him.

  “Very well. I approve,” Kyros says, straightening his shoulders and tipping his head in some sort of gesture of approval.

  “Well, gee, I’m so glad we have your blessing,” I say, rolling my eyes so far I’m pretty sure I see the back of my skull. “Look, as happy as I am to see you, I think Apollo wasted his time.”

  Kyros gapes at me.

  “A lot’s happened and well, I’m not so sure I want to play oracle to a city of dead gods anymore,” I say, verbalizing the feelings that have been crowding my head.

  Kyros tsks. “Amaranth—”

  “Diana,” I correct before he can go any further.

  “Diana,” he says with a hint of agitation, “you have a job to attend to. Your role is far more important than simply… What did you call it? ‘Playing oracle’?”

  “Does someone want to explain to me what’s happening here?” Blake says, breaking into the conversation. “Because as much as I can follow the crazy train, I’m still a little lost.”

  “Amar…Diana needs to resume her post,” Kyros says, matter-of-factly. His wrinkled features twitch with a certain amount of pride for being in the know, despite looking like the Crypt Keeper.

  “Resume her post? As in…here?” Blake says, turning to face me.

  I wince, knowing my lack of communication is about to take a good chunk out of my backside. “Maybe? No?” I sigh, running my hands through my hair and walking away. “Look, I don’t know. All of this is new to me. I don’t know what’s expected of me just yet. I’m trying to get a read on the situation, but the universe is being aggravatingly bipolar on the matter. Which is fine by me because, to be frank, I’m not real keen on being told what to do.”

  “But that’s what he’s on about, right? You’re meant to resume your role?” Blake says, his brown eyes darkening.

  “It would appear,” I say, my shoulders sagging.

  “Well, how in the hell is that meant to work, Diana?” he asks, voicing the same concerns that have been plaguing me.

  “It is very simple. She claims her rightful place and continues her work in the name of Apollo,” Kyros says. “From what I can sense of things, this world is in dire need of a champion.”

  “Oh, you have noooo idea,” I say, both in sarcasm and complete conviction. It needs a champion all right. That doesn’t mean it has anything to do with me.

  “Look, there’s a lot to unpack here. Anytime now, this place is going to be flooded with tourists. Maybe we should take Aristotle here back to the hotel and continue our conversation there,” Blake says, checking the time.

  “Aristotle,” Kyros huffs. “That pompous blowhard is of no relation.”

  Blake gives him a side-eye and turns his gaze to me.

  “Yeah, okay. Let’s go…” I say, wiping my fingertips across my forehead.

  Without waiting for additional permission, Blake grabs hold of my hand and spins on his heel. He marches us past Kyros and down toward the car. Kyros trails after us, trying his best to keep up, but his ancient frame isn’t used to the rocky pathways and mountainside. Probably because it’s been recently resurrected and half of it still thinks it’s part of the landscape.

  When we reach the parking lot, he nearly has a heart attack and dies for the second time.

  “What in the graces of the gods is that monstrosity?” he asks, raising a bony finger toward the rental car as Blake and I open our doors.

  I chuckle under my breath, wishing I could see the world through his eyes. It has to be a bit unnerving coming into the modern era from so long ago. But also pretty miraculous.

  “Just get in, gramps,” Blake says, clearly not as amused as I am.

  I wave Kyros toward us and I’m barraged by the sense of fear rolling off him in waves.

  Blake on the other hand is a ball of conflicting thoughts and feelings. I try not to pry into his mind as he works through all of this. I can’t say I
blame him for being a bit freaked out. We’ve left the land of the ordinary and entered the realm of the extraordinary. There’s bound to be a few mental hiccups in the transition.

  Spinning around, I open the back door and point inside. “Just sit. You’re going to love this.”

  Kyros’s eyes narrow. “I sincerely doubt that.”

  Blake slams his palm into the center of the steering wheel, blasting the horn. Kyros nearly jumps out of his skin and scurries over to where I’m pointing. Without another word, he hops inside and takes a seat, tugging his tunic around his legs as he does so.

  Shaking my head, I look up to the sky, then close his door. “Gods help me.”

  Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I return to the passenger seat and hop in.

  An air of agitation has settled inside the vehicle and I don’t dare try to lighten the mood. Not yet. As accepting as Blake has been about all of this, he’s still new to it, too. I have to remember that.

  Kyros whimpers from the backseat as Blake puts the car into reverse. “What kind of sorcery…” he mutters under his breath.

  The short drive back to the hotel is a tense one. Each of us is a live wire that could be set off with a single touch. So, best not to tempt fate.

  When we get inside, I head straight to the small bar on the counter and pour a drink for each of us. Blake shakes his head, pushing the glass of whiskey back onto the counter. Kyros takes his glass, giving it a good sniff before downing the contents in one big gulp. His eyes nearly fall out of his head, but he holds his hand out for another.

  Snorting to myself, I pour him some more and down the contents in my glass.

  “All right, guys, here’s what’s going to happen. I need time to process all of this. I’m not prepared to take on the mantle of Oracle again. At least, not without some proper internal debate and self-flagellation.” I grab Blake’s glass and down the contents of his as well.

  “But what about Helena? About us?” Blake leans in and he whispers urgently in my ear.

  I look into his desperate eyes and my decision is nudged one step closer toward abandonment of my post.

  My tongue grazes my lower lip as I try to find the words. “I know, Blake. I know. And I’m right there with you. But I also know I can’t take this lightly. These are gods we’re talking about.”

  “Then where is he? Why send Kyros?” Blake sputters, pointing at Kyros.

  Kyros glances up at the mention of his name, just as he tentatively sits down on the edge of the bed. Then, after a second, starts bouncing up and down.

  I lower my eyebrows and shake away the absurdity. “How the hell do I know? It’s all problematic, isn’t it? I mean, if I were a god—”

  Suddenly, as if called forth, Apollo’s voice booms from Kyros’s fragile body, echoing with the kind of power only a god can manifest. My mouth snaps shut.

  “Pythia, do not question your responsibilities now. Your oath binds you to me and the time is coming for my return,” he says.

  I round on Kyros, my hands balled into fists as I come back to myself. “And what about me? What about my life?”

  “You’ve had millennia to entertain a life of your own. Now, it is time to deliver upon your promises,” Kyros says, his back rigid and eyes glassed over with a lavender glowing light.

  I shake my head. “No, that’s not even fair. I’ve just gotten Anastasios back.”

  “That was a consequence of your own doing.”

  “It doesn’t make it any less true. I want time with him,” I fire back. “I need time.”

  “The rules still apply. Your soul mate will follow you through the ages. This version of him is of no consequence to the grand design,” Kyros says, his voice still resonating with the kind of vibrato that would make others cower.

  I clench my teeth and curse under my breath.

  “But—” I begin, but my mouth is once again snapped shut. Agitation swells in my gut. I hate being controlled like that.

  “You have until the rise of the next full moon to begin your duties,” Apollo says. He doesn’t stick around for the rebuttal I was gonna shove straight up his ass. Kyros’s body goes somewhat limp and he shudders away the possession.

  “Screw this,” I say, fighting the urge to strangle Kyros just for having the nerve to be a vessel for Apollo.

  “Amar—Diana. You know you cannot shirk your responsibilities. Why must you fight this?” Kyros asks, clutching at the front of his tunic like he might keel over from a heart attack at any moment.

  “Because it’s not my choice, is it?” I lament.

  “I believe we are all here by a design not of our choice,” Kyros offers.

  True or not, it doesn’t help.

  “No, screw this. Screw this. If Apollo wants me to be his oracle so badly, he’ll need to do better than sending me idle threats and a geriatric assistant,” I spit, jabbing a finger at Kyros.

  Kyros simply shrugs at the description. “Fair.”

  “No, you know what?” I say, my resolve hardening. “I’ve come too far to be anyone’s pawn—Apollo’s included. So, I’m throwing in the towel. I’m out. Time to make my life my own for a damn change.”

  I throw my hands up in the air and walk out of the small hotel room, leaving the two men standing awkwardly together.

  I should feel bad. My gifts should be guiding me back to the temple. Hell, I should feel like I’ve made a mistake. But I don’t.

  I take that as a sign. I mean, hell, what’s the worst that could happen?

  3

  Freedom Fight

  “If you are planning on leaving this godforsaken place, then I am coming with you,” Kyros says, hobbling after me. Determination filters into his tone as he tugs at the neck of his new shirt, clearly uncomfortable by their confines. “There’s nothing left for me here, Amaran—Diana.”

  I pat him on the arm the way you would when a kid hands you a drawing and you have to tell them it looks fantastic. But in reality, you can barely tell if it’s a person or a black hole.

  “That means you’re free, Kyros. You’re not beholden to anyone but yourself. Consider yourself officially relieved of your duties to the Oracle. Go live your life. Explore the world. So much of it has changed. Live a little,” I say, patting him on the shoulder as I walk back to the small dresser tucked in the corner of the hotel room. I grab the remainder of my clothes and return to the open suitcase that’s splayed open on the bed.

  Kyros lowers his eyebrows and his lips transform into prunes with his tight frown. “Amarantham, you and I both know Apollo will not approve of this way of thinking. It’s a foolish errand to even believe you can outwit him. For reasons unknown to me, he chose to resurrect me, and I highly doubt he’ll let that go without a proper fight.”

  I chew on my lower lip. Kyros is right, but at the same time, what’s Apollo gonna do? It’s not as if he’ll kill Kyros if he needs him. He’d simply snap his fingers and put him back into the aether if he’s not successful with his mission. Kyros would be none the wiser and in all honesty, probably plenty happier for it.

  I’m doing him a favor by trying to set him free. At least he’ll get something I’ll never have. Freedom.

  Blake walks back into the hotel room from outside. He tucks his phone into his back pocket and catches my eye. “Our flight is confirmed and we’re checked in. Are you ready?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I just need to get Kyros squared away.” I unzip the top zipper and pull out the envelope I put together for him. It took a little doing and a bit of tech magic from Aiden, but Kyros will be taken care of. I even have people ready to keep an eye on him and help him through this transition.

  Kyros narrows his gaze, watching my movements as if I’m about to off him. Yet, he doesn’t make a move to rise from the comfort of the bed’s edge, so he must not be overly concerned.

  Holding the envelope to my chest for a beat, I exhale slowly and hand it over to him. “Here. This has everything you’ll need to start a new life.”

  Kyros
narrows his eyes and rips open the envelope.

  “We’ve paid for the hotel room for the next month, so don’t feel like you have to hurry. But that should be enough money to get you situated. And if you need anything, you can always call me. We’ll take care of you,” I say, my words tumbling out fast before I lose my nerve.

  I feel absolutely terrible for wanting to leave him, but I’m also terrified for what it would mean to Apollo by having him come with us.

  Kyros plucks out the passport and credit cards. “What in all of Tartarus are these?” He flips through the pages of the passport, his forehead creased.

  “You’ll need them for traveling. Well, assuming you want to get beyond the borders of Greece. This one is for flying or crossing into another country,” I say, pointing at the passport. No need to worry him that they’re high-end forgeries. “This one is for paying for stuff.”

  His features tighten. “What of this?” He pulls out the remaining wad of cash we had on hand. “Is this not for paying for stuff?”

  “Of course it is. It’s just not as much as what’s on the card,” I say.

  His eyes widen as he raises his hand and places the card under his scrutiny. “Astounding.”

  Blake huffs over my shoulder.

  Reaching back into the suitcase pocket, I hand over the cellphone Blake purchased last night when Kyros was snoring up a storm. “This will help you keep in touch. I’ve already plugged in my number, in case you need to reach me.” I press through the menu options and show him how to dial me up. “I wish I had more time to show you how it works, but…” I point back to Blake, “we have a flight to catch. We have someone who’s planning on helping out, but until they arrive, just ask someone here in the hotel to help you. You look like a confused grandpa, so getting assistance shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “He is a confused grandpa,” Blake mutters under his breath.

  I shoot him a look and mouth, “Not helping.”

  Blake blinks slowly, clearly not fussed.

  As much as I agree that bringing Kyros with us would be a bad idea, I can’t help but feel incredibly responsible for him. I mean, he was brought back from the dead for me. So, there’s that.