Apple of Fate

by Elle Beaumont

  Delia peered over her shoulder. “Just a second, Conner.” She opened the door and motioned for her father to step outside. Why did her father look so perturbed? It wasn’t her fault they’d missed the bus, and she even landed a private tour.

  “Remember, I’m here to forget the shitty—” Delia bit the tip of her tongue, scrunching her nose at her father’s silent reprimand. “Crappy few months. Look how gorgeous he is. I know better than to be an idiot. The curse of being a female: you always have to be aware of your surroundings and who you’re dealing with.” She thought she had been speaking quietly, but the clearing of a throat behind her said otherwise.

  Her father’s eyebrows lifted in mild amusement, but it also looked like another reprimand was on the way. Wincing, he motioned toward the museum.

  Delia cringed. “Is he behind me?”

  Conner chuckled. “I am, but I’m used to tuning out TMI from tourists.” He glanced at the sidewalk, as if it were about to open up and devour him. “Anyway… this is a company car. It has a GPS system that my boss can tap into if I go on a joy ride during working hours. She can override the system and shut it down. Which, I’ll have you know, she has not had to do in… many years.” He motioned to the car as he approached it and unlocked it. “Hop in and we’ll get started.”

  Delia went to slide into the front seat, but her father took it instead. She harrumphed and slid into the seat behind Conner. Her eyes met his in the rearview mirror, and she couldn’t help but smile. Something about the energy surrounding him, swirling in his gaze, elicited excitement.

  Conner and her father started talking as the car purred to life, but Delia checked out for a moment, reassuring herself that she could have fun. She wanted to forget home, its circumstances, and what wasn’t waiting for her there. Delia wanted to heal, relax, even live a little. What was wrong with a little harmless flirting while she was on vacation?

  Year after year, she reminded herself, she’d been forced to grow up quickly when her mother became sick. And when her own health rapidly declined, the panic and anxiety that had filled her was horrible.

  “So, you said it was tradition to come here. How many times have you been? Do I need to skip my touristy speech?” Conner laughed, abruptly tearing Delia from her thoughts.

  “Fifteen times,” she replied, squinting her eyes as she counted on her fingers. “This year marks fifteen.”

  The car turned down a familiar road, leading them away from the heavily populated area and down a dirt country road.

  “No need to bore you with the history of the grounds and temple, then. You know everything about it.”

  Delia knew almost everything about it, unless he had new information that had been added to their literature recently. But she wanted to hear him talk. How he enunciated things, and the way it sounded like he was smiling with every word.

  Quiet filled the car, then Conner tapped his window with his knuckles. “I’ve got it. Did you know that Artemis had a favorite hound? His name was Kítrinos. A mortal wounded him gravely when they were at war with Olympus. She never got over him, but that mortal was turned into a squealing boar and wound up on the table of his own men’s feast. A fitting ending for his life, no?” Conner glanced into the mirror, lifting his dark eyebrows in question.

  So, he was a storyteller? She supposed it came with the job.

  “That is interesting…” Delia peered into the front seat, took one look at her father’s face, and started laughing silently. Her shoulders shook, but no sound escaped. He looked both disturbed and surprised at the quick conjuring of the tale.

  The car wound down a dirt road, giving way to a small grassy knoll. In the distance, columns jutted from the earth. Artemis’ temple ruins. Turning the car off, Conner opened the door and leaned against the roof, admiring the view.

  “And here we are. What remains of the once beautiful temple.”

  Acontius

  * * *

  Acontius’ heart pounded wildly in his chest. The name he’d taken in the mortal realm was Conner Velis, since Acontius wasn’t a name that rolled off the tongue easily, nor was it a modern name.

  A lie to mask his truth.

  Somehow, he’d kept his act together at the museum when Delia ran into him. It had been an entire year since he’d last seen her and, on a foolish whim, bound her to him with an apple. Every day since then, he’d been kicking himself because it was only a matter of time before Artemis found out, and the repercussions of his idiocy would be severe.

  But as Acontius watched Delia stare over the ruins, Artemis’ wrath felt like a distant thing. Her dark, luminous eyes flicked toward him, and he felt his heart stutter. She was beautiful. Chestnut hair, sun-kissed skin, bottomless brown eyes. And now that he’d spoken to her and experienced a fraction of her personality, Acontius was certain he’d made the right decision.

  A decision so asinine that he’d assumed Eros had crossed Artemis by targeting him. But none were so stupid as to bother the Goddess of the Hunt’s pack.

  The buzzing of his mobile phone pulled Acontius from his thoughts, and when he glanced down at the screen, he blanched.

  Artemis.

  He couldn’t ignore the call. If she’d dialed in to his GPS, she’d see where he was…

  Answering the phone, he turned his back on Delia and her father. “Hello, Arty.”

  On the other end, Artemis sighed. “Where are you?”

  “A late tour group showed up at the museum. They had tickets already, and I didn’t want them to miss out.”

  “I didn’t realize we gave private tours now. Never mind. When you’re done with them, come and find me. It’s about my brother.”

  A pit formed in Acontius’ stomach. What was Apollo up to? He frowned at the phone as the call ended.

  It’d been one hundred years since Apollo’s wrath had fallen on the land in the form of a pandemic. Was he about to unleash another punishment for gods only knew what reason?

  “Hey.” Delia appeared by his side, head cocked in curiosity. “Are you okay? You look like someone just ran over your dog.”

  Acontius grinned at her, laughing. “No, it was the boss. I told you she’d home in on me. Anyway, why don’t we walk around the temple? I’ll spare you the usual speech and storytelling.” He drew a cross over his heart. “Promise.”

  “I’m ready when you are.” Delia peered over her shoulder at her father and then back to Acontius. “And you can tell us wild stories of Artemis in her glory days, if you’d like.”

  He lifted his dark brows, lips twisting in thought. “Really? Well, I’m sure I can think of a few stories…” Walking around the car, he took the lead and followed the dirt path down to the ruins on the grass. There was a small, beat-up pillar with more rubble next to it. This was where Acontius had first seen Delia, where he’d thrown the apple at her feet and bound them together.

  A warm breeze caressed his face, cooling his heated skin. The sun was high in the noon sky, and thankfully, Acontius had forgotten his sports jacket in the museum’s break room. Sighing, he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and turned on his heel, only to find Delia staring at him.

  “Sorry. I was just wondering… Why do you think they never rebuilt the temple again? I mean, I know it kept being ruined, but if Artemis had such a large following…”

  Acontius smiled as Delia’s curiosity ran wild, and luckily, he knew the answer well. “I suspect it’s largely because of the leaders’ fickle minds and what they believed was right. When Olympus fell, so did the gods. Humankind didn’t believe in them anymore, so what was the point in building temples for fellowship if they found new gods to worship? While Artemis had a great following, they fell victim to new laws, new ways to praise…” Acontius’ words trailed as he surveyed the land, but when he turned back and saw Delia’s gaze zoned in on him with an intensity he hadn’t seen earlier, his stomach fluttered.

  A throat cleared, disrupting the moment. “Can we continue?” Delia’s father looked semi-peeved.


  “Of course.” In a few strides, Acontius took the lead again, winding their way through the ruins, down to the still-standing structure.

  Chipped columns stretched toward the sky, stubbornly holding on to their purchase, even though the surrounding walls had crumbled to dust long ago. Stone stairs, although broken in some areas, still remained in place.

  Memories flooded Acontius. He remembered the first time he’d entered the temple, ushered in by Artemis. His aunt, forced to keep her distance from him, smiling at him. The vow he took to remain pure to Artemis’ Order. The irony of breaking the vow on sacred grounds wasn’t lost on him. Although, he hadn’t truly broken a vow. He was still pure—save for tossing an apple at Delia’s feet, he hadn’t acted on any impulse.

  Yet.

  As the sun faded into the sky, his voice grew hoarse from the amount of talking he’d done. And eventually, it was time to leave the premises.

  “Where do you stay when you aren’t working?” Delia broke through the silence that had settled between them.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he chuckled. “An apartment close to the museum.”

  “Oh.” She looked thoughtful, and then, “When is your next day off?”

  What a bold question. Acontius leaned against the car’s hood and stroked his chin playfully. “Why? Already missing my wealth of information?”

  Delia’s cheeks reddened. She toyed with the end of the braid on her shoulder, fidgeting. “I thought we could meet up and talk about your absurd amount of knowledge about Artemis.” She lowered her voice, leaning in toward him. “I’m in Istanbul at the Çırağan.”

  “Oh, you’re staying at a palace! And you’re consorting with the likes of a mere poor boy.”

  Delia snorted. “Give me a break. If you’re interested in talking more, I’ll be here for another two weeks. Do you want my number?”

  What was he supposed to say? His mouth hung open in surprise, but his hand extended his mobile device. “Uh, yeah. Sure.” She typed her number in and labeled her contact name as “Delia” with a bow and arrow emoji. Artemis. Hunter.

  She had no idea how close she was to the mark.

  When Acontius slid into the driver’s seat, he felt a hard gaze piercing the side of his face. Reluctantly, he met the intense, dark eyes of Delia’s father, who he knew as Alexander Rentumis. Last year, after his thoughtless action of rolling the apple toward Delia, he’d made it a point to interact with who he had rightfully assumed to be her father. He’d learned far more about the man in a five-minute conversation in an open field than Acontius had ever expected to. Alexander was a good man, a good father. And judging by the way Alexander was staring at him, he remembered Acontius’ face and was likely trying to figure out how and why.

  * * *

  After closing the museum, Acontius thought he’d avoided Artemis. She’d vanished into the back, and he assumed she’d stepped through a portal. But as he locked down the last part of the museum, the sound of footsteps echoed in the silent building.

  “Acontius.” Artemis spoke his name with a commanding edge to it. “We have a budding problem.”

  His stomach dropped. Panic crept up his neck and rushed into his cheeks, coloring them. “What?”

  “Apollo has tired of the mortals and their lack of respect for… much of anything.” Artemis scoffed, flipping her hand as she walked across the room to close the distance between them. She was tall without heels, and when she wore them as she did now, Artemis stood two inches above his six feet. By no means was she a delicate looking woman. Although slender, she was built like an athlete, and her shrewd hazel eyes could pierce anyone’s soul.

  “Without Olympus, there is very little power to draw on. What is the point of his tantrum?”

  Artemis clicked her tongue, wagging a finger at him. “Watch your mouth.” She sighed, flicking a strand of raven-black hair out of her face. “He thinks he can restore Olympus, and maybe we could if we band together, but he wants to cleanse the world first.”

  None of this information soothed Acontius’ worries; it only confirmed them. Apollo was going to try to unleash a plague… again. His modern plagues were not like his biblical plagues of old on a smaller scale. The 1918 Spanish Flu: his doing. Swine Flu, Bird Flu: his attempts at conjuring a plague of old. But without the ability to draw on power, he couldn’t level the earth like he once had.

  “No,” Acontius breathed. “He can’t do that.” What of Delia? Her father? What of the vow …

  “No, he can’t. I agree. Very seldom do I step in, but I cannot stand behind this. When it comes time, we’ll need a distraction.” Artemis’ eyes assessed him, and she tapped a finger to her lips. “Be ready. That is all I ask.”

  “As you wish, my lady.” He bowed to her and felt her hand rest against the nape of his neck.

  “I’ll lock up. Sleep well, hunter.”

  * * *

  Over the next three days, Acontius hardly slept, and his mind raced with the possibilities of what would soon unfold. Another battle, another war… and this time against the highly protective brother of Artemis, Apollo.

  Stress oozed into every pore of Acontius. Of course, it didn’t help he was waiting to see if Delia would text him first—she didn’t.

  He was the one who broke down and texted her, which was why he was driving to Istanbul despite living in Selçuk. Fortunately, it was early morning, which meant he could spend most of the day with Delia. And, worst-case scenario, he’d spend the night at a local hotel and leave in the early morning. The Çırağan was a little out of his budget.

  Upon arrival, Acontius stared at the gateway to the parking lot. The hotel reminded him of Artemis’ temple in its prime: beautiful, breathtaking, awe-inspiring, and humbling.

  After finding a parking spot, he pulled his mobile out and texted Delia, but a tap on his shoulder had him spinning around. “Oh, hey.” Delia stood in front of him, eyes glittering in excitement as she looked up at him.

  “Well, good morning, Conner. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I like this.” She motioned to his wardrobe, which wasn’t anything to write home about: a pair of khaki shorts, a teal button-up shirt, and instead of smoothed back hair, he’d allowed his natural waves their freedom.

  One brow arched. “Should I have worn my uniform?”

  Delia stammered. “No, I mean… you look amazing. Fine, I mean.” She flushed, looking down at her white shoes.

  “Hey, don’t be like that. I’m teasing.” Acontius reached for her, his fingers lightly grazing her chin to turn it up. “I don’t know about you, but I need breakfast before I do anything else.” He flexed his fingers as he drew his hand away. The touch sent an electric pulse through him.

  Delia didn’t flinch away, but she gaped at him. She lifted her hand and brushed where he’d touched. “The restaurant inside is good. Let’s grab something there.”

  Acontius nodded, motioning for her to lead the way.

  After a filling breakfast and light-hearted conversations, the tone took a darker turn when Delia started to discuss her recent mishaps. The breakup. Her health. It was a quick change to her demeanor. Her expression shifted; clouds rolled across her bright face.

  All Acontius could do was listen. He had no sage advice to offer. He didn’t want to press his luck anyway because, well, who was he? A strange guy she’d met at a museum.

  Frowning, Delia poked at a berry on her plate. “I’m going to be honest with you, and I don’t know why. I’m a wreck. I don’t know when I’m going to be pieced together again. I’ve had two relationships end in one year. The first one was because he couldn’t handle my health issues, the second one claimed I was faking my poor health.”

  “What do you mean about your health? Are you sick?” Acontius leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, unsure of how much she’d continue to talk about her personal life. But he’d take everything she gave to him.

  She sighed. “Yes… No. No one knows what’s wrong, but every time I think a relationship
is ‘the one,’ it tanks along with my health.” Throwing her hands up, Delia rested against her chair. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

  Was this a repercussion from the vow? Acontius paled.

  Delia clammed up as the server returned with their check. She paid for it quickly and collected her purse. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to put a damper on our morning.”

  “You didn’t. I feel like I should offer something of myself now.” His lips twisted as he sat back, fingers drumming on the table. “I’m not sure what. I’m actually rather boring.” In this lifetime, he was. Separated from the world of the gods, forced to live a mortal’s life in an immortal body.

  Delia’s eyes sparked with life again, and a slow smile spread across her face. “Why do I doubt that?”

  Acontius’ eyes flicked to the table, then back up at her. “I don’t know.” He smiled crookedly and sprung to his feet. “You’ll have to tell me after today.” Extending his hand to her, he waited until she stood, then tugged on her hand to reel her closer. She stood inches from him. Close enough that he could smell the floral shampoo she used.

  “What?” Delia laughed as he tugged her along the pathway.

  Outside of the hotel, the sun caught his eyes, momentarily disorienting him as he stepped down a stair. Such a simple thing had his mind racing back to Artemis, and what they feared from Apollo. Had the sun god finally lost his patience with the modern world?

  Running a hand through his hair, Acontius cleared his thoughts. Delia watched him thoughtfully, as if she were waiting. Waiting for what?

  He mustered his courage, then blurted, “Let’s go to Burc Beach.”

  “That’s a bit of a drive…” Delia mused. “It’s early enough that we can still get a good spot.”

  Acontius nodded. “It is, and that was my thought. So how about it?”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Grabbing Delia’s hand, Acontius tugged her along the concrete path to the parking lot. “Then let’s get our day started!” He laughed, having the decency to look bashful when a passing gentleman walked by.