Reborn Series Box Set (Books 1-3.5)

by S. L. Stacy

  Dionysus thinks about this for a moment. “Wait a minute,” he exclaims in a sudden burst of inspiration, jabbing a finger in my direction. “That’s you. Well, not just you,” he continues when I give him a questioning look. “The halflings. The children left behind are the halflings. A long time ago, we—well, some of us—procreated here, but then we closed the walls, abandoning you. We left you behind.”

  “That does make sense,” I agree, nodding slowly as I consider his interpretation. “I think you might be right.” Not that I have any better idea of what it could mean.

  “See? I can be helpful,” he says almost defensively.

  “I never said you couldn’t be.”

  “But this is how I can redeem myself. I can make things up to Victoria by helping you find the ingredients to the antidote. You’ll be the brains, and I’ll be the brawn.” He curls one of his burly, tan arms, muscles flexing. “And the comic relief. Your goofy, yet loveable, sidekick.”

  “You don’t have to be my sidekick,” I insist. “We can be partners.”

  An eager smile spreads on his face. “Really?”

  “Sure. That’s part of the reason why I came over here tonight,” I admit. “I wanted to ask for your help. But if we’re going to do this, you have to change your clothes. While I genuinely appreciate your dedication to 80s night, we have to be discreet, and right now you look like you front a hair metal band.”

  “I can do that,” he says, starting to head for the doorway. “I’m gonna ask a few of the brothers to go check on Billy, then I’ll change. Be back in a—ahhhhh!” Stopping short of the door, he lets out an unexpectedly high pitched scream, shrinking away from something he sees on the floor. “What the hell is that?”

  “You’re freaking out over a cat?” I realize, going over to where Apate is curled up in the doorway, watching Dionysus with an amused look on her face. “I thought you were supposed to be the brawn.”

  “Some say cat. I say spawn of Satan,” he says, crossing his arms.

  “There you are,” I grumble in one of Apate’s triangular ears, bending and scooping her up. She goes quietly this time, unresisting as I adjust my hold on her. “Stop running off. We have to stick together.

  “She’s neither of those things,” I say more loudly to Dionysus. “She’s an Olympian, stuck in cat form. Dolos’s sister, actually. Apate.”

  “Apate,” he murmurs, head tilted to one side. “That name sounds familiar.”

  “Probably because she was one of the people you were supposed to be after when you and Victoria were first sent here. You know, if you had been doing your job?” I give him a smug grin.

  “Ohhhh, that’s right.” He narrows his eyes at her. “Shouldn’t we lock her up in a pet carrier then or something?” At this, Apate’s head jerks forward, and she growls low in her throat.

  “She’s helping us,” I tell him. “Then we’re going to help her by changing her back.”

  Dionysus doesn’t seem reassured by this. “Why would we do that?”

  “Because we’re the good guys. We’re nice people, and we aren’t going to stoop to their level.”

  “Well…okay,” he agrees tentatively, brushing past me on his way out of the door. “I’ll be back. And then I guess we have to figure out what the hell we’re doing.”

  “It’s okay,” I assure him. “I think I know where to start.”

  Chapter 13

  “Are you sure we’re going to the right place?” Dionysus asks, taking a few running steps to catch up with me. “And why are we walking so fast?”

  “Apate doesn’t seem to have a problem keeping up.” The cat plods along slightly ahead of us, a graceful, dark phantom breezing past pedestrians coming in the opposite direction. “And we don’t exactly have all night. Excuse us,” I say as we skirt around the long line of people waiting to get into one of the downtown nightclubs. The bouncer opens the door to let a few of the hopefuls in, boisterous techno music spilling out into the chilly night. “Eric’s army is invading Olympus at dawn. I have to make the antidote and change everybody back if we’re going to stop them.”

  “Yeah, because heading into battle is exactly what I’d feel like doing after being stuck as a bird for a couple of weeks.”

  “I know,” I sigh in frustration, casting him an annoyed glance, “but what other choice is there? They understand it’s our duty to protect our world, and Eric coming to power is in no one’s best interests. And if they don’t…well, it’s our job, so they’re just going to have to suck it up.” Something I’ve said makes Dionysus gasp in feigned shock. “What?”

  “You just said ‘suck.’”

  “Yeah? So?” I shrug.

  “Isn’t that kind of a naughty word? I noticed you never swear. I mean, the closest I’ve ever heard you come to it is when you called Rae a butt munch.”

  “I mean…no, I don’t,” I admit. “Not usually.”

  “But why? You’re an adult. No one’s going to ground you.”

  “I just…” Gulping, I start walking faster, eyes forward, not even looking over to see if he’s keeping up. I remember breakfast one morning at home a long time ago, my sister and I sitting at the table in front of our empty porcelain plates, Mom scrambling eggs at the stove, Jeffrey stationed at the head of the table with his head hidden behind the Wall Street Journal.

  “When’s breakfast gonna be ready?” I wondered, squirming impatiently in my seat. “I want my damn eggs!” It was a word I’d heard a classmate say in school, although at the time I wasn’t sure what it meant.

  “Language,” Jeffrey said in a warning tone, peering at me over the newspaper, eyebrows raised. “It’s not ladylike to swear.” Most parents scold their children over using bad words, but there was something in those cold, steel blue eyes, in that calm but firm voice that made you listen. Made you afraid not to. Even now, thinking about it makes me feel like I’ve been plunged into a tank of ice water, my body numbing from the inside out.

  “That bad, huh?” Dionysus’s gentle voice pulls me out of the memory. I look over to find him studying me with concern. Feeling embarrassed, I shift my eyes ahead, watching the cars cruise the street slowly, on the hunt for parking close to the club.

  “I’m sure we’re going to the right place,” I say, realizing I never answered his question. “Well…pretty sure.”

  He’s silent for a moment, probably trying to decide whether he should probe me further about the swearing thing. “Because a fortuneteller at Playland told you,” he finally says, uncertainty punctuating the words.

  “I think she might be the real deal,” I explain. “I didn’t, at first, but she knew things—about Siobhan, about the sorority—that she couldn’t possibly have known, unless she were a seer. And a few of her predictions have ended up being true.” Like Dolos being “in hiding,” and about the beast the Sigma Iotas brought over from Titan. “She said ‘before the day is done, go to the place where three become one.’ Okay, so I don’t know if it actually has anything to do with the antidote, but it’s the only lead we’ve got.”

  “If I had known we were allowing the Fates to be our guide, I would have consulted my Magic 8 Ball before we left.” I shoot him a death glare. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he insists, throwing up his hands as though he’s surrendering to someone. “I just didn’t peg you for the type of girl who took that stuff seriously.”

  “I didn’t use to.” Not that I wasn’t open to the possibility that some people had psychic abilities, but I certainly wouldn’t have based any major life decisions off of a reading. When he doesn’t say anything, I glance over at him. Before we left, he did as I’d requested and exchanged the wig, leopard bandana and leather vest for a much more mundane pair of dark blue jeans and a plain black t-shirt.

  “You look nice,” I tell him, looking away again. “As in, less ridiculous than usual.”

  “That’s high praise,” he says through a chuckle. We fall into another awkward silence, which is further magnified as we leave the
lights and sounds of downtown behind, crossing the street into Point Park. I rack my brain for something to fill it. Usually I don’t mind a break in conversation, some quiet time to gather my thoughts, but for some reason I can’t stand it right now. I need to keep talking, and keep moving. Maybe because the alternative is thinking about things I’d rather not have to think about.

  “Okay, Dion, it’s your turn.” Our feet leave the sidewalk, hitting spongy soil and soft, dewy grass. “I’ve basically told you my entire life story tonight.”

  “You’ve only told me about the last several weeks,” he counters.

  “Still. You know a lot about what’s going on with me, and I still know next to nothing about you. So, spill. Who’s this girl your heart still belongs to?” Even though he’d tried to turn this into a joke the other night, I suspected that there was some truth to it. “Or guy,” I add as an afterthought.

  Dionysus remains silent at first, and I start to regret bringing it up. “Her name was Sibby,” he says just when I accept he’s not going to answer me. “She was the love of my life.”

  “Was?” I ask hesitantly.

  “She’s dead.”

  “…Oh.” Way to go bringing up the dead girlfriend, Carly, I scold myself inwardly. “Sorry I brought it up. I didn’t realize it was anything like that. We can talk about something else.”

  Much to my surprise, Dionysus doesn’t take me up on this suggestion, continuing, “The Elder Council sent us to hunt down a creature that was terrorizing this village. Our objective was to kill it—to show it no mercy. Don’t give me that look,” he says in response to the disgusted face I hadn’t realized I was making. “We weren’t hunting for sport. This was an animal driven by pure bloodlust and insatiable hunger. It was slaughtering the villagers, including innocent children. Killing the beast was our only option.”

  “You didn’t have any other choice,” I agree to smooth things over. Now that Dionysus was opening up, I wanted to hear the rest of his story, uncensored. I wanted him to know he could confide in me. “Go on. I’m listening.”

  “We were camping out in a forest on the outskirts of the village, sleeping there during the day and tracking the creature at night when it went on its rampage. One evening, I woke up—I was supposed to be on watch, but I had fallen asleep”—Dionysus keeps his gaze on the ground as he speaks, face paling at the memory—“to find that Sibby was gone. Some of our supplies and weaponry were gone, too, so I knew she must have left early for the hunt, deciding to let me sleep. I wasn’t as accustomed to ‘roughing it’ as she was, and the mission was starting to take its toll on me.

  “I saw some bloodied prints in the dirt and tracked the beast to a cave about a mile and a half away, where it must have been sleeping during the day. It was sitting just in front of the entrance, licking its lips with a disgusting, black tongue, the gray skin around its mouth covered in blood. Pieces of dark blue material were scattered on the ground around its feet. Pieces of Sibby’s clothing.” Voice cracking, Dionysus comes to a sudden stop. I pause beside him, placing a consoling hand on his arm.

  “It was my fault.” Although he’s not crying, the words come out in a strangled sort of sob. “If I hadn’t fallen asleep—”

  “You can’t blame yourself for that,” I tell him gently. “She struck out on her own, and—although I’m sure she was strong and could handle herself—it sounds like no one stood a chance against a creature like that.”

  “I didn’t even get to avenge her death.” He catches my gaze, his filled with longing and regret. “I was so…overcome with grief that I just watched the creature for a while, unable to even snap myself out of my daze long enough to kill it. When I finally made my move, it heard me and ran off. It got away. Luckily, none of the villagers ever saw it again, either, so the slaughter came to an end anyway. But I let it get away.” He falls silent after that, staring off into the dark at something only he can see. After a while, we resume walking and, even though the quiet is gnawing at my ears, I don’t try to fill it with idle chatter this time. At one point, I open my mouth to ask him a question, but only a faint whistle of air escapes before I close it again. Dionysus must have heard it, though, because a second later I feel his eyes on me. “What?”

  “I was just going to ask…never mind. It’s none of my business.”

  “It’s okay,” he assures me. “Ask away.”

  Despite his encouragement, I hesitate before posing the question. “Have you…been with anybody since? Been in love?”

  “I’ve had flings, sure,” he admits with a shrug. “But nothing serious. No, I haven’t fallen in love since, and I don’t think I ever will. Sib and I…we were soulmates.”

  “Oh, God.” I can’t help but cringe, a note of annoyance creeping into my tone. “Don’t use that word.”

  “Why not? I believe in soulmates. Don’t you?”

  I gape at him. “This coming from the guy who judged me for believing a psychic a few seconds ago? Really?”

  “I guess I’m a hopeless romantic.”

  “I think you’ve been watching too many Lifetime movies at the frat house.”

  “We don’t watch Lifetime movies,” Dionysus scoffs. “The best made-for-TV romcoms are on Hallmark. Everybody knows that.” He gives me a playful grin, and I find myself smiling in response, a quiet laugh escaping my lips.

  “To answer your question, no—I don’t believe in soulmates,” I tell him, my smile fading. “If you had asked me even a few weeks ago, I might have said maybe, but I don’t anymore.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “What do you think?” The words come out more harshly than I intended them to, so I take a deep, steadying breath before continuing, “I felt that way about Dolos. I thought we had this special…connection.” Dolos and I had a similar conversation about destiny once, and he seemed to believe very strongly that fate had somehow brought us together. Although I was skeptical at the time, I think somewhere along the way—I’m not sure when—I had actually started to believe this, too. That we were somehow meant for each other.

  I don’t say any of this to Dionysus, though. Instead, I just conclude with, “I don’t believe it anymore. I can’t.”

  He nods. “I can understand that. I mean, my soulmate wasn’t a psychopath. Sorry,” he adds, seeing the pained expression on my face. “Like I told you before, I’m not good at reassuring people.”

  “Clearly.” I slow to a stop on the concrete path cutting through the park, pausing to take stock of our surroundings. It’s a little after midnight, and Point Park is deserted, buried under a blanket of darkness and fog. Around us, the trees stand tall and still, like silent, watchful guards. Somewhere, an owl calls out, the haunting sound making the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

  “Well, we’re here,” Dionysus says, coming to stand next to me. “What now?”

  “I’m…not sure,” I confess, avoiding his gaze. “Madam Moira told me to ‘go to the place where three become one.’ Well, this is where three things meet.” The park is shaped like a triangle, the city’s three major rivers converging at its topmost point. “But that’s pretty much all she said.”

  “Carly, I hate to say this, but…I think we should move on. We’re not going to find any ingredients for an antidote here,” he insists, eyes sweeping the park. “We don’t even know if this is the place she was talking about. You said it yourself—we don’t have all night. We can’t waste time chasing hunches.”

  “There has to be something here. I know I’m right about that much, at least. This is where she wanted me to go.” I can feel it deep in the pit of my stomach, a feeling of certainty so strong it keeps me rooted to the ground, even as Dionysus turns to go. “You can do what you want. I’m taking a look around.” I start walking in the opposite direction, a slinky shadow darting ahead of me as Apate takes the lead.

  “Hey!” Dionysus’s footsteps hesitate on the path. “I didn’t mean I was…” The rest of the sentence fades, getting lost in a sigh of f
rustration. “Wait up!”

  We walk the perimeter of the park, searching for some sign that we’re on the right track. The street lamps are few and far between, every swish of tree limb and flicker of movement in the corner of my eye made more ominous under their filmy light. With each step, I lose a little more conviction, doubt taking me in its iron grip. When we reach the fountain at the tip of the Point, I fall more than sit down on the flat rim of its base, feeling defeated.

  “You were right,” I tell Dionysus, who has paused to study the fountain, forehead knotted in puzzlement. “This is pointless. I don’t know what I was thinking. There’s nothing here.”

  “Hey,” he says as though he hasn’t heard me, motioning me over. “Come take a look at this.” Grudgingly, I get to my feet again, coming to stand next to him. Up through the center of the fountain rises a sculpture of an old, bearded man rowing a small boat. He clasps a long-handled oar in one hand, reaching out with the other as though to beckon us aboard. Dionysus points to the outstretched hand, where the gray-white stone is splattered with a brown stain.

  “Paint?” I suggest, leaning in for a closer look. “Someone vandalized it. So?”

  Dionysus shakes his head. “It’s dried blood.”

  “What? It couldn’t be.” Nevertheless, I turn away from it, feeling suddenly nauseous. Somewhere behind us, Apate lets out a cry for attention. It takes me a moment to find her, sitting statue-still underneath an ash tree, staring off into the dark.

  “What is it?” I ask, going over to her. “Do you see something?” She meows again, and I follow her insistent gaze with my own—not even daring to blink, in case I miss something—but I have no idea what she’s so fixated on. All I see is grass, dotted with a few slender trees, and the black ribbon of river beyond. Nothing remarkable. And yet…

  “There’s something weird over there,” I say when Dionysus joins us. Under the moonlight, the air above that part of the river bank shimmers, wavering like a gauzy, iridescent curtain. Just like the rift in the woods did.