“Syches,” he echoed.
“Yep. I get teased about it all the time.”
“Teased?”
“Yeah, sounds close enough to psycho. I got Psycho Syches a lot growing up,” I blurted out.
“Oh,” he said with his complex tone full of sorrow, surprise, and remorse; I had an inkling there was much more behind it. Then again, I was probably imagining it all. My father always said I was too perceptive for my own good. I agreed…the few times my guesses were wrong, that is, which was rare. That was another reason they thought I was psycho. I could figure out what people were thinking sometimes, just off a whim.
To my surprise, Archer didn’t laugh. “That’s not very nice of them.”
“A lot of people aren’t.”
“There are good ones out there.”
“Sorry, I’m a pessimist,” I said, enjoying the flirty banter.
“You shouldn’t be. There’s a lot to…love,” he said the word with a deep multifaceted feeling, “in this world.” Hmm, he was like an onion I wanted to peel.
I pressed my lips firmly together to suppress my next comment, partly wanting to explain my crappy lot in life, but this guy was just some stranger who didn’t need my sob story. I wanted to make a good impression. He didn’t need my baggage.
I was saved from any embarrassing outbursts by the elevator door opening. He let me walk out first and followed me outside. The Rolls Royce was parked by the curb, ready for me. I paused to zip up my jacket, and when I reached for the door of the car, I saw Archer Ambrose grab it first. We both stopped, laughing.
“Is this yours or mine?” He smiled broadly, exposing a perfect set of straight, ultra-white teeth. He was too gorgeous to be real. I subtly pinched my own arm to make sure this wasn’t a dream. Yep, he was real.
“Uh…I don’t know.”
“Archer, hel-lo!” a bubbly voice called from an identical car two spots ahead.
The beautiful face of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl peeked out the window. Of course, he had a girlfriend. Typical.
“Sorry, my mistake,” he said, walking to the other car. He loped with a graceful swagger that was confident yet oddly cautious and then turned to me, hands in pockets, and said with a nod of the head toward the blonde, “My sister.” Then he fluidly turned away, but I could see his cheek rounded like he was smiling, and I felt myself smile as well.
I peered again at the beautiful girl in a new light. From afar, she appeared to be a female version of Archer: blonde, blue-eyed, beautiful smile, and a little pug nose. The only difference was, where he was more chiseled and angular, she was sleeker and softer. How had I missed their resemblance at first?
As I climbed in the car, I decided New York definitely had at least one perk, and that came from suite 3004 of my new apartment building.
Chapter 3Archer
I knew things were going to be different that day from the start. I woke to the smell of meat and thyme seducing my senses. My stomach growled. Someone cooking in our house when we didn’t have a servant was unheard of—unless I was at the stove. Aroha—my sister, to the mortal world, for all intents and purposes—was capable of throwing together a great meal, but this didn’t mean she would break a nail doing so if she could help it.
It meant one thing. She wanted something from me.
Sure enough, she was at the stove, cooking. The table was spread with bread, kopanisti cheese, and a box of my favorite sweets, loukoúmia. Bribery food.
“Who are you, and where is Aroha?”
“Ha, ha, Archer.” She glanced up. “Can’t a terrible mother compensate by making her little boy some breakfast every now and then?” she asked sweetly. Too sweetly.
“What do you want?” I demanded.
“Nothing,” she said with poorly feigned innocence. She could fake being mortal well, but she could never pretend to care about others more than herself. “I’m trying to be nice.”
She was obviously beating around the bush, but I’d let it go for now and let it play out. “Then what’s going on? What are you cooking? It smells divine.”
“Paidákia, with a pinch of thyme, your favorite.” She batted her eyes at me. “Can’t I cook for you without sixty questions?”
“No,” I said, sounding like a pert child, while trying to grab a cutlet from the pan. She smacked my hand with the wooden spoon, preventing me. My hand hit the sizzling skillet, and I yanked it away but too late. There were burns across my fingers. Aroha gave me a serves-you-right glare. I watched my hand curiously as the welt disappeared within seconds. Immortality meant I would always heal and do so fast. It always fascinated me, much to my mother’s dismay, particularly when I had gone through an injure-myself-for-fun phase as a youth.
“It’s almost done,” she scolded. Frowning, she added, “I resent your saying that.”
“Just cut to the chase, Mána,” I taunted her by using the Greek word for mother.
“I hate it when you call me that.”
“Because it makes you feel old. What is it?” I pressed, tiring of her avoiding the issue.
“Well…” she began, “The messenger has been by with a message from him. Wants me to try to talk sense…threatened to force me back with… I shouldn’t be threatened like that, really.” She said in heated jumbles.
“I’m not going to talk to Dad,” I insisted, knowing where she was going. My grandfather was meddling—as always—and was pitting my parents against each other. “You married the warmonger; you deal with him.”
“That’s not a nice way to talk about your father, even though it is true.” She paused, taking the food off the stove and dividing the lamb chops onto two plates. “Can’t you make him fall in love with someone?”
“For the millionth time, no. It’s impossible. He loves war. He loves world domination. He has no time for anyone but himself,” I insisted.
“Have you even tried?”
“Yes. You don’t know how many arrows I’ve wasted in vain. And don’t tell me you haven’t tried a thousand times. He is obsessed with the sport of it.”
“Always was after the chase and never wanted to settle. I suppose I must talk to your grandfather about it. Don’t see what I can do,” she murmured the last bit as we sat down to the table to eat.
“Distract him. You’re the only one who can.”
“That’s what your grandfather will say, I suppose, but he can’t control his own son, for crying out loud.”
Her comment made me stop loading my plate with cheese and bread. Why couldn’t he pull rank on my dad? My grandfather could control all of us.
“By the way, darling, could you do me a little favor…”
“I knew it.” I put my fork down. “What now?”
“Todd is getting so tiresome. Make him fall for someone else. Oh, I don’t know, that Mary Beth would be sweet with him, no?”
I sighed, annoyed, wanting to just eat, but it was such a little favor, considering I wouldn’t perform the other, much more difficult, task of sorting out my dad. “Fine.”
I closed my eyes, searching within the confines of my own mind, mentally gliding through the streets over the gridlock of the city. Each human registered like a beacon on a huge internal mental map, where I could zoom in and out to find whom I wanted, traveling at a nearly infinite speed across the entire world if I pleased.
But this morning, my prey was in Manhattan and was easily found walking along Seventy-second Street and Madison, headed in the direction of Fifth Avenue. In my mind, I drew back the imaginary poisoned arrow, filled with an elixir more potent than anything known to man and unique with an essence of Mary Beth, and fired it into Todd’s heart. Vicious-sounding but physically painless. Emotionally? It can be rough. I’d misfired into myself once long ago and wasn’t eager to ever fall in love again.
Why arrows? It was simply a way for me to understand how to direct my powers since I developed them at a young age. It was rare, but I had to learn to control them, as to not destroy mortal lives.
I took myself across a few blocks to find Mary Beth and shot her with my invisible arrow to make her fall in love with Todd. Ma hadn’t asked me to meddle with Mary Beth, but I always felt better when matters were fair. When it came to love, I believed things should always be equal. There were others who saw to those situations where love was thwarted or unrequited.
I opened my eyes, picked up my fork, and jammed a large piece of lamb in my mouth. It was even more delicious than it smelled.
“That was quick. Are you sure it worked?”
I gave her a glare, trying to swallow my food. Once I could speak, I said, “He’ll be in love with her, and she with him.”
“Fantastic. Thanks, my ligí agápi.” She began to eat, humming happily to herself.
I glowered deeply at her for using one of the many pet names—little love—she’d used for me when I was a small child. She gave me a wicked grin and continued humming.
Aroha took forever to get ready, so I lay back down for a nap before we had to head to school. When she barged into my room, saying we’d be late while brushing her still wet hair, I got up again, hopped in the shower, and got dressed. She still wasn’t ready, so I nagged her back, and then we were out the door by the elevator.
Damn it! I’d forgotten my gym clothes.
The elevator pinged open, and Aroha went in.
“I’ll be a minute. Just get the car pulled around.”
Aroha rolled her eyes to insinuate I was the one who made us late on a daily basis, despite her atrocious track record. I trekked back to the apartment, grabbed my gym bag, and stuffed clothes in. Then I was back waiting for the elevator, when I heard hurried footsteps on the carpet behind me. I forced myself not to turn, since mortals wouldn’t hear someone who was so far away. Everything in my life had to be measured and carefully planned, even the way I moved, to fit in with mortals. When the person’s steps slowed, I turned to see a beautiful young woman. Dark eyes and hair, olive skin, just your average attributes, but on her, they were utterly breathtaking and…perfect.
At first, I thought she was one of us. No human could have such beauty. As we waited for the elevator, I thought she might confront me in the typical way our kind does, the classic greeting used over centuries: “How is he?” in reference to the god of the gods whom I called Grandpa. But nothing otherworldly escaped her lips. She was apparently mortal. For some reason, that disappointed me. I rarely took a second glance at a pretty girl, but she pulled me in—no, more like yanked me. It was that strong and uncontrollable. Like a moth to a flame, I told myself in warning, and yet it was futile to deny my attraction.
I wanted her, and I was the kind of being who always got what he wanted.
When I slipped into the car with Aroha, she gave me that maternal side-eye that chided me for some unknown offense.
“You kept me waiting.”
“I forgot my gym clothes.”
She scoffed—to her, me being chastised by a mortal gym teacher was beneath us. My mother never wanted to stop being worshiped, and the fact that our bodies didn’t decay and froze us at eighteen forever added to her overabundant ego.
“Who was that pretty little girl?”
“Who?”
She gave me a leveled glower. So she’d picked up on my feelings, great. I’d have to hide things from her. She could be a domineering bitch at times, and she could pull rank. I literally had a hard time disobeying her, not a terrible drawback to living forever young, I supposed.
“A girl named Callie who lives on our floor. Apparently just moved in.”
“How old is she?”
I shrugged.
“Far too much beauty for a mortal. I’ll need to have a chat with the retinue.” And with that, she took out her phone, leaving me to my own reveries while she most likely sent texts in lieu of a “chat.” A chat from my mother was berating you for your ineptitude. I felt bad for those receiving her digital wrath.
“At least that girl will age.” Aroha sighed happily.
Callie aging. The thought chilled me. I pushed her from my mind and was pretty successful…
Until she showed up at our school.
Chapter 4Callie
I got a lot of stares at school, being the new girl and all, but people were friendly enough. Homeroom consisted of the teacher giving me my schedule and me sitting there trying to blend in with the furniture for fifteen minutes. First period went without any hitches, except that it was history, which was my least favorite subject because I learned much more, and in a more interesting way, from my dad than memorizing boring dates. It also always came to me so easily that I lost interest in the lesson. After seeing and touching real ancient artifacts, a textbook picture lost its luster. The class dragged on forever. I was not at all used to this block scheduling where classes were an hour and a half long. The only thing that held my interest was the girl I sat next to who never seemed to stop talking. She introduced herself as Emily and involved me in gossip that I hardly understood. Her friend was a little more aloof but eventually warmed up to me when she realized I lived on the same block as her, and she introduced herself as Linda. Emily had an elegant, classic beauty; she reminded me greatly of a young Sharon Stone (the movie icon Dad was madly in love with), whereas Linda was more of a young Lucy Liu (another favorite actress of his). She was thin, with beautiful, clear skin and dainty features.
They walked me to second period, where unfortunately, I had to begin again, but they promised to save me a seat at lunch, which dismissed my greatest fear. No one wants to eat alone. It was social suicide, making one a leper for life.
I walked into second period for AP Chemistry, and my stomach took a spin. There were lab tables instead of desks, and I surveyed them, hoping to find one completely empty so I wouldn’t have to force myself on any already established cliques. In my search, my eyes glided over and stopped instantly on Archer Ambrose. My stomach immediately settled, the anxiety of not knowing anyone having left me.
Archer had a pencil resting between his fingers, the eraser loosely balanced between his lips, as if he were deep in thought. Then he glanced at me. His first expression was shock, but then a small smile of recognition spread across his face as he motioned me over. I sat down next to him with a sigh.
“You don’t know how happy I am to see you!” I blurted out.
His cheeks went red, and he stared down at his hands. He let out a nervous laugh. I felt at ease enough around him to be my free-flowing self—saying what was on my mind, regardless of how stupid it sounded. In hindsight, this wasn’t one of those moments where I wanted to be that outlandish. I clearly embarrassed him with my enthusiasm. Was he really that shy?
“Sorry. I mean, new kid, not knowing anyone…first-day jitters,” I explained.
“I’m glad to be of service.” His stare lingered on me, and I didn’t want to break my gaze from his.
“And who is this?” A deep male voice cut through what had seemed to be a moment between Archer and me. I wanted to shoot the guy a death stare…until I saw him.
Another gorgeous specimen of perfection sat down next to Archer. Where Archer was light, this boy was dark. He was tan, a Mediterranean bronze that was darker than my complexion. He was made of sinewy muscles, with untidy thick black hair and beautiful sparkling, dark emerald eyes. He had to be wearing contacts; no one had eyes that green. And his skin, even more than Archer’s, was warm and glowing, as if the sun were always shining on him, despite being indoors. I almost wanted to reach out and touch this boy’s arm to see if it was actually warm (I refrained).
Was every person at this school so unbelievably attractive? Or had my self-inflicted vow to not date this year driven me to insanity?
“Lucien, Callie. Callie, Lucien,” Archer explained, the annoyance in his tone badly masked.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“Callie lives in my building,” Archer said.
“Poor thing.” Lucien smiled at me with a wink. They had some inside joke or underst
anding that I couldn’t comprehend.
“I’ll tell Aroha you’re publicly slurring her again.”
“I was referring to you,” Lucien responded through clenched teeth. He quieted down with the jokes and grew sullen. Apparently, Aroha was not a girl to cross. I’d be sure not to upset her.
Class began, and thankfully, the teacher forgot to introduce me, but unfortunately, the conversation with the ridiculously gorgeous boys ceased. I could tell I’d enjoy being partners with these two—one thing was for sure: they would make class interesting.
After the bell rang, I gathered my books up slowly. The two adorable boys were talking and laughing in hushed tones and sneaking peeks at me.
“Wanna sit with us at lunch?” Lucien asked.
“Oh…um…thank you, but I already told Emily and Linda I’d sit with them.” I half regretted how easily I’d agreed to sit with them earlier. Besides the fact these boys were freakin’ hot, I felt irresistibly drawn to them. I wanted to spend as much time as I could with them, Archer especially. And that was utterly illogical. Formerly, I had been the type of girl who was well-grounded in all that made sense.
“That’s okay.” Archer’s tone was glum.
“No, it’s not. We’ll steal you away. They always sit next to us anyhow,” Lucien said, rolling his eyes. He didn’t like the girls.
We began to walk toward the cafeteria. The energy they gave off made me feel like I could be more outgoing; I could be myself.
“You don’t like Emily and Linda?” I prompted.
“I didn’t say that,” Lucien said. Then he mischievously continued, “but you’re observant.”
“They’re nice.” I frowned.
“It’s just…they’re typical girls,” Lucien said.
“And?” I challenged. “I’m typical.”
“You’re not typical.” Lucien scoffed.
I stared at him oddly, waiting for more, but he just kept laughing and shaking his head as if to tell me I could neither pry any more out of him nor would I understand what he meant. I wondered if he was complimenting or picking on me. He was too mysterious to understand.
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