Quiver

by Lisa Borne Graves

  “She is a very beautiful girl. Very exceptional,” Chase said as he broke the set, knocking in a few balls.

  “But?” I pressed. When parents offer praise, they are likely to qualify it.

  He looked up at me. “But what? I wasn’t saying anything else.”

  “You mean you’re not here to yell at me, punish me, or try to make me obey you?” I shot back defiantly.

  “You wouldn’t anyway.” He gave me a mischievous grin. “You’re too much like your father.”

  “Grandpa’s not happy. I’m awaiting punishment every day.”

  “Oh, he won’t bother you for a while,” he told me, finally handing me the cue stick. “I saw to it.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, shocked.

  “I saw to it. Convinced him to leave this be for the time being. I’m to watch over you.” He smirked. That little twitch of his lips told me he believed the idea ridiculous. “Still, he wouldn’t tell me why, but there must be something about her that threatens him. I’m not sure what, but I only bought you time. Time was all I could give you.”

  “Why did you do it?” I asked, stunned.

  “What do you mean, why?” He was confused.

  I didn’t answer. What could I say? That he was a warmongering, pathetic excuse for a god and a father? He never loved Ma and me, just war, and there was no room in his heart for anything else? I was angry with him, wanting to lash out at his treatment of us, but I just couldn’t. I’m embodied love; hate just can’t take root in my heart.

  “Oh,” he said, sadness registering in his face. “I see. Well…I see how you view me. I know I’m not the best father, but…don’t you remember any of the good times?” He shifted his weight and avoided my gaze uncomfortably. Any time he ventured toward expressing emotions, he always stopped. I supposed it had to suck to have a wife and son who were all about feelings, when those kinds of words were difficult for him to speak.

  The little figurines popped into my mind, him secretly touching my head, kissing my cheek when he thought I was sleeping, then later teaching me to count by tickling my toes, his sweet words to my mother, his always kind instructions to me.

  “I do,” I murmured. “Sorry, and thank you,” I managed to squeeze out.

  “I did it for you, Archer, because I do care. If she is what you want, need, then…I’m on your side.”

  He had won the game, and I had hardly noticed. Chase shook my hand as any two men would in good sportsmanship, but we were shaking on much more than that. He had talked to Zeus in order to reconcile with me, and it would be wrong of me to refuse him. I’d be guarded, cautious, and let him mingle in my life without any expectations. Every time in the past when I had trusted him, he had let me down.

  “So how exactly did you get Zeus to change his mind?”

  “I left a prime warfront. He wants the war to close. Alliances he’s trying to make with others, I suppose.” He referred to the “others,” a subject we rarely talked about and rarely dealt with. There were way more gods out there than just us Olympians. “The point is, being in the good graces of the others was more important than his dislike for Callie. He needed me to stop fighting. When he sent your mother, I realized he’d do anything to get me to quit fighting. I used that to my advantage.”

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded and glanced over to my mother. “Now, introduce me to this broad Aroha?” He winked, and I couldn’t help but smile about how ridiculous my parents were.

  Callie seemed to let things go when it came to my dad, the eye thing, and my messed-up family. The truth was, between her father and my mother, Callie and I were hardly ever alone anymore. We decided one day to just go walking, explore the city, merely to be on our own. We had been chatting and sipping coffees, meandering on the side streets that weren’t packed, when I noticed we weren’t too far away from Uncle D’s place. When we turned the corner, onto an even more deserted street, Callie gripped my hand tighter, and that was when I felt it…like someone brushed ice against my neck. Chills shot down my spine. A feeling of being hunted, as if an enemy had me in his scope, washed over me.

  I scanned the street to find it desolate, extremely so for a side street in Manhattan. It was lunchtime, which made it even odder. Callie rubbed her arms, shivering, her eyes searching for this unseen threat. It was cold out, but this was something more than the normal chill from the weather, which never really fazed me, the ichor in my blood doing what was necessary to keep me comfortable. The eerie feeling was real. No wonder the mortals were steering clear of this street at the present moment. They could feel the impending danger.

  My sharp eyesight caught the figure ahead before Callie could. He stood in a doorway to our right, conspicuously dressed in a trench coat, looking very much like he was trying so hard to blend in that he stuck out. I recognized him from the scar across his face: Zelus, god of rivals and one of Zeus’s attendants. He was a “winged-one,” just like me, which made any escape tricky. Zelus had many purposes, like filling mortals with zeal, but Zeus used him for his other role: the ice daemon. He hadn’t been sent for a friendly chat.

  He stared me down with an icy glare, his irises a crystal white that eerily contrasted with black pupils. His gaze then flickered to Callie, and he smiled. His scar, which had been acquired when he was still mortal, stretched, making his grin elongated, lopsided, and creepy.

  Then Zelus closed his eyes, and I knew what would ensue. I reacted instantly. I pushed Callie into a doorway under an overhang and kissed her. I felt the sensation of several sharp icicles plunging into my back. I tried futilely not to wince or cringe so she wouldn’t notice. Zelus wasted no time and went into full attack mode. The pain was excruciating, the invisible icy knives slowly being pushed farther into my body.

  My mind spun. How could I fight back? Where could I go? How could I get Callie out of here without exposing everything?

  Callie pulled away, her face frightened, her hands touching my temples. She searched my face, her eyes flittering and her face wrinkled up in concern.

  “Danger,” she whispered, her lips shaking. I didn’t know how she could sense it so clearly, like she was reading my mind, but I didn’t have time to worry about it. We had to move, to run to a safer place.

  “I’m so sorry, Callie,” I managed to squeeze out, poorly masking my pain. I took her tightly in my arms as more daggers penetrated my back. This time, I couldn’t hold in the agony, and I writhed in pain.

  There was no way to get out of this acting like a mortal. I held her and attempted to push off the ground and jump as high as I could. Instead, my legs buckled under me, and I fell to the ground, pulling Callie with me. I was now powerless, as helpless as a mortal. I realized my folly too late. He wasn’t after her, but trying to incapacitate me so he could easily get Callie. He had anticipated I would protect her.

  “Archer,” Callie gasped, trying to help me up. The pain was spreading, my entire body solidifying, as if ice were beginning to replace the blood in my veins and the ichor becoming solid and useless. Without the ichor, not only did I have no power, but I could also die—ichor is the essence of immortality. Damn it, I was dying. Icy sludge moved through my heart. It was becoming hard to breathe.

  “Stop it!” Callie screamed. “Whatever you’re doing to him, stop!” Her voice wavered in my ears as they throbbed with the sound of a slow sludging pulse. My body began to uncontrollably shake from the intensity of the pain, like being electrocuted, as anyone who’s pissed off Zeus knows.

  “I came for you, child,” Zelus said sinisterly.

  “Oh,” Callie gasped, clutching her chest as she swooned and slumped on top of me. For the split second Zelus’s attention was diverted, my pain lessened slightly. It was now or never. I used what strength I had left to jump up and grab him by his head. I simply twisted it, snapping the son-of-a-nymph’s neck like a twig, and let his body sink to the ground. He’d be paralyzed momentarily until he healed and would be after us again.

  I scooped
Callie up in my arms and ran at human speed, looking for Uncle D’s bar. I didn’t run slowly because I wanted to. I had no power. I feared Zelus would heal before I could shake off his curse. Whatever he had done to me appeared to be lasting.

  Then I saw it: the Grapevine, not far ahead on the left. I hoped Dionysus was in, because my body grew heavier by the moment. I burst through the front door, crumbling to the ground, Callie dropping with me. My eyesight began to wane, and the light began to fade. The pain pierced my head. I could no longer feel my body. Was this how it felt to die?

  The next few moments were a tangle of impressions that I could barely register. Dionysus forced my eyes open, his face a blur. Callie weakly asked me what was going on, the pain in her voice apparent. Her hand was still clutched to her chest, her heart hurting. My own voice sounded detached from my body, whispering, “Zelus.” My eyes closed, I felt myself drifting from my body. I didn’t know death, but I sensed I was permanently leaving my body. Something wet and warm hit my lips, burning. I almost choked on the liquid in my throat before I could swallow. Warmth spread through me, thawing my ichor and strengthening me. I was being pulled back into myself. I could feel the weight of my body, hear Callie’s frantic breathing next to me.

  I opened my eyes to see Dionysus sigh with relief. “Close call there, kiddo.” He sat back, beginning to relax, and drank some nectar whiskey from the bottle. He had to have given me a great deal to save my life, because now I felt woozy.

  I sat up, trying to formulate a sentence, “How…What…” I stopped, seeing Callie next to Dionysus.

  She took the whiskey from his hand and took a swig.

  “Enough of that, little darlin’. How old are you anyway?” He took the bottle back.

  “Old enough to realize that that thing was not human. He was torturing Archer just by looking at him! Then he looked at me, and I was cold, so cold, my heart was full of ice. What was he? What are you? And why do you smell like flowers too?” She eyed Dionysus suspiciously. “And what is that exactly?” She pointed at the bottle of nectar.

  “We got a problem here, Archer.” Dionysus’s eyes narrowed at Callie as if she were a bug to be squashed as he helped me up. My joints felt oddly loose, and I knew my powers were back but slightly hindered from my nascent intoxication. I shook my head, trying to focus.

  “Is anyone going to tell me what is going on?” Callie asked.

  “Iris,” Dionysus called.

  She walked in the front door instantly, the shape-shifting teleporter, in the form of a schoolgirl.

  “Cute,” he sardonically commented about her appearance.

  “Go tell Father to cease fire and that I’ll clean up his mess. Then get Mnemosyne. We need to alter a few memories here, especially this one,” Dionysus said, blatantly forking his thumb in Callie’s direction. Then he flipped Iris a gold coin, which she caught, bit to ensure it was real, and then vanished right before our eyes.

  Dionysus shuffled around, muttering, “In broad daylight! Mortals everywhere. What was he thinking?”

  “Um, Uncle D, a little obvious.”

  Callie stared aghast at the spot Iris had been standing. “Mnemosyne…” Callie’s eyes flickered, meaning she was deep in thought, jumping to hasty but probably accurate conclusions.

  “I’ll take care of that. But kid, how long are you gonna keep this up?” he asked.

  “Forever,” I asserted. I should’ve been thankful for his assistance. I could have died or had been so ill that something could have happened to Callie, but Zelus had gotten me into fight mode. Odd for me, the lover, to be violent.

  Dionysus examined me and sighed. “You are a nightmare when you’re in love, you know that, kid? This is your one and only get-out-of-jail-free card.”

  “What are you going to do exactly?” I asked warily.

  “Erase the last fifteen minutes from her mind is all.”

  “No, you’ll make her crazy,” I protested. One of his godly talents was the madness of mortal minds.

  He rolled his eyes. “Give me a little more credit than that Er—Archer. Anyway, Mnemosyne should be here in a minute. She’s erasing it, not me. I’ll fabricate a nice sweet romantic conversation to fill up the void.”

  The entire time, Callie was watching us, and then her mouth dropped open in a sudden epiphany. “You’re…you’re…” Her eyes darted back and forth between Dionysus and me. “Wait, what are you going to do to me?”

  Iris reappeared with Mnemosyne in tow. The latter gave me a haughty glare of annoyance and whisked Callie away into the back room. I turned away, unable to watch as Callie struggled, protested, and called out for me to help her. Part of me wanted to race back there and stop them, to let her know the truth. I was tired of hiding, tired of lying to her. The other part of me realized that if Callie remembered all this, then Zeus’s attempts would never stop. Forcing her to forget would be the only thing that could save her. I told myself this several times in order to assuage my guilt, but it never left me, even after her memory was erased. What had I done by involving her in my world? The damage would be irrevocable.

  Chapter 17Aroha

  Chase was instantly popular with the girls at the school, which did not surprise me in the least. Dan was as loyal as a puppy dog, which was driving Chase insane already. But I wasn’t completely finished with Dan yet, so I’d stretch out the chase to make it last longer. What girl wouldn’t want two attractive boys fighting over her and for the entire school to know about it? This would be so much fun.

  A couple days after his arrival, Chase randomly appeared at my door.

  “What are you doing here?” I raised my brow at him.

  “I wanted to see you. Can I come in?”

  “I have a boyfriend,” I toyed with him.

  “So? Just wanna hang out.” He was adorable when mortalling.

  Regardless of my protests, I opened the door wider to let him in.

  “Archer home?”

  “Out about the town with Callie. You’ve found me utterly alone,” I flirted. Did I imagine a little spark of pleasure in his eyes at that comment?

  He walked up closer to me, and from the look on his face, I could surmise his next move. He took me in his arms and tried to kiss me. I turned so all he could reach was my cheek. “What is it you want, Chase? Why are you here?”

  He let me go, a little disappointed. “I felt something amiss with Archer, so I came to check on him. Then I got distracted.”

  “Amiss?” What was he talking about? “How can you sense what is going on with him? You hardly know him, really.”

  The comment wounded him, and his eyes revealed as much. “When Psyche and Hedone died, I felt his anguish. It was unbelievable, the amount of pain he went through. My own pain is one thing, but my child’s pain…” He shivered at the thought.

  “How?” was all that came out of my mouth.

  “I don’t know. Athena explained it as ‘a tie that binds.’ Because he is mine, I will forever be connected to him. It was only ever him,” he expanded, answering my unspoken questions about our other children that were formulating in my head. “It’s gotta somehow be connected to the eye thing.”

  “The eye thing,” I repeated. “Why have you never told me this? I mean you’ve had over three thousand years to tell me.”

  Chase examined me for a moment, and then he looked away. “I never had a relationship with him like you did. It felt like my own bond to him that no one else could have. I didn’t want anyone, even you, to ruin that.”

  “He’s never said he felt something like that.”

  “He knew Hedone was in danger before she truly was. How else could he have made it halfway across the world in that day and age to arrive only moments too late? With he and I—” he shrugged, struggling for words “—perhaps because I technically am always in danger and not upset about it, he can’t sense it. I truly don’t know.”

  Then Chase cringed and held his head, hiding the fact he was upset. I thought he was about to cry until
I saw his face tighten in physical pain.

  “Chase?”

  “He’s in imminent danger, right now. He’s in pain.”

  “What?” I screeched. I was pulling Chase up by his collar and shaking him. A tumult of questions flew out of my mouth that even I could not make sense of. I shook him violently, and he gaped at me, bewildered and astonished at my behavior.

  “I don’t know where he is or what it is. I can only feel what he feels,” he tried to explain, overpowering me with his strength. I felt his arms restrain me in a bear hug.

  “What help is that?” I shouted, not caring how my words hurt him. “Archer is my son, my only true child left. I can’t lose him!”

  Chase pulled me to him, hugging me tightly and kissing my forehead. “We will not lose him,” he said with conviction.

  We sat down, holding hands together and scanning the city for Archer. He was in Dionysus’s bar. I couldn’t fathom why Dionysus would touch a precious hair on my son’s head, but before I could curse him, Chase relaxed and explained that the pain was subsiding, that Dionysus must be helping him.

  I called Dionysus, but it went to his voicemail. The same with Archer’s phone, so we waited impatiently for his return.

  Archer entered, looking as if he had aged five years overnight. His face was pale, and he walked awkwardly in the door, his legs not working properly. Callie was not with him, so we pretty much attacked him with affection. I pulled him into a hug and then gave him a good once-over. I forced his chin up to see his haggard face and smoothed his hair back. He was ice cold, which is odd for our kind since the ichor works as a temperature gauge, always balancing out our internal temperature to keep us warm or cool as needed. His eyes were dull, with dark circles under them.

  “Are you all right? My darling boy, we were so worried!”

  Archer then turned his head to acknowledge Chase. “How’d you know?” he asked in a frail and scratchy voice.