Quiver

by Lisa Borne Graves

  Thanatos laughed sardonically. “Physically, maybe, if you take after your daddy deep down. I’ve never actually seen you in a fight.” Then he cocked his head in thought. It gave him a sinister predatory appearance.

  He was right. I wasn’t a fighter, but I was strong. I had my father’s power, and no one had ever been able to stop him.

  “It has been a while, Eros, since I saw you last.” He began to slowly circle around us like a cat ready to pounce on its prey. “When was it?” he mused in fake thought, his playacting atrocious. He obviously was going to hurt me mentally in any way possible.

  I braced myself.

  “Ah, yes. Back in the late fifteen hundreds, wasn’t it? After Psyche and your poor little darling daughter—”

  “Your point?” I tried to ignore him, needing to stay focused. However, the memories I had suppressed came flooding back. I tried to never think of Hedone. It was always too painful, and even though the memories had begun to fade after all this time, I still remembered the last day I saw her. I remembered her waving and blowing me a kiss from the back of a coach destined for Nizza back then—Nice, France these days—and supposedly under the protection of her mother. And then it hit me hard. Lucien, Nice, Psyche’s and Hedone’s deaths—it was all connected. He had gone there about them, not his mother, but why?

  “Yes, I was summoned to collect them without warning. Boom! There they were at the top of the list. I hurried to collect those precious souls. I didn’t want them to wander the earth till the end of time. When I got there, they were in such pain and agony. They begged me to take them.”

  “Shut up!” I growled.

  “I really did end their suffering. It was a kindness. Don’t worry about your girlfriend here. I’ll see to it Hedone can care for her. I’m sure you can see both of them again in the Underworld if you like. If Hades lets you. He usually keeps the pretty souls for himself, and my, she is pretty.” His sunken face laughed haughtily.

  Something in me snapped. Either envisioning Callie dead, imagining never holding her again or kissing her warm lips; imagining Hades never letting me see her image again, even her translucent soul; being reminded of my daughter, having to think about her and Callie together in the Underworld—one of these reasons or all of them snapped me into action.

  I leaped at Thanatos and tackled him to the ground. The floorboards cracked and groaned in protest. I closed my hands around his throat and tried to squeeze, but he wedged his knee under my abdomen and shoved. We collided with the ceiling, my back making popping noises as it broke with the plaster of the ceiling. We fell back to the ground, me incapacitated but healing quickly. Thanatos shoved me off of him and got up awkwardly, his injuries hindering his normal nimbleness. I lay there helpless, unable to even move my neck. I was momentarily paralyzed.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Thanatos walk over to Callie. She stared at me in horror and then at her attacker as he grabbed her by her wrist. Callie’s intake of breath was sharp and painful. She struggled to free her wrist, which made Thanatos both perplexed and bitter. He pulled her closer to him, and she gasped, going limp and falling to the ground. If she were dead, I’d…I’d be capable of the worst. Anxiety bubbled up in me. Rage bashed around in my brain. And a desperate helplessness that I had only felt once before filled me up. She would not die like my ex, like my daughter, not Callie.

  I finally felt the tingle in my fingers that told me I was almost well again. Seconds felt like ages, just watching, without being able to do a thing to help. I saw Raphael, the servant, appear with a wooden baseball bat. He swung at Thanatos, who stood over Callie, ready to extract her soul, his fingertips on the back of her neck. Not ready for the blow, Thanatos was thrown backward next to me. Despite the fact that he was a mortal, Raphael had momentarily overpowered a god. I took a chance with my building strength and rolled onto Thanatos, pinning him down. I squeezed his neck tightly, thinking only of revenge. Callie might not have lived through his touch. No mortal could, a demigod maybe. I wanted vengeance.

  I tried to look away and think of something else as I squeezed his neck, his face turning purple. Could Chase feel my strife? If so, then where in Hades was he?

  I heard a moan and glanced over to see Callie coming to in Dr. Syches’s arms. I must have relaxed my aggressive stance in shock, for I was thrown off Thanatos and landed on my back again. My mind whirled around in circles as Thanatos stared me down, regaining his breath. I could not escape with Callie. I had to end this. The only way to save her was to get Death away from her, permanently.

  I used all my strength, thinking of my love for Callie, and leaped at Thanatos, catching him off guard. We tumbled onto the balcony through the still-open French doors, exactly where I wanted. I had my hands around his bony little throat, squeezing. Somehow, he couldn’t fight me off. He should have been stronger than I was, since he was older, but I had heard of instances of adrenaline rushes, of becoming stronger in situations of great magnitude. It was primal, instinctual. I had to stop him, or I’d die trying to protect Callie. Love pumped through my veins, empowering me to continue fighting.

  Thanatos’s instincts kicked in; with his shock now gone, he fought back, knocking me off balance. I grabbed him, taking him with me as we went over the balcony railing, plummeting twenty-nine stories, the blistering winter wind cutting through my clothes.

  I heard Callie screaming, “Archer,” but her voice faded as we fell. The ground wouldn’t come fast enough, falling while trying to push one another down first. This was going to hurt. I put on the brakes, defying gravity, falling much more slowly and gracefully than Thanatos, which was my plan. But he reached out and yanked my foot, gripping it, making me plummet at his rate. I had Thanatos under me when we hit the ground in the alleyway. I heard shattering and crumbling beneath me, and I fell onto my side, piercing pain shooting through my legs.

  Thanatos twitched in a hole in the cracked pavement, his mouth bubbling with blood. The ichor hit the pavement in droplets as he spit and rasped, trying to breathe through burst lungs. The blood scorched the pavement, corroding it. It would only take him a few minutes to fully heal; me, much less. Every bone of his was likely shattered, every organ burst.

  I dragged myself away from him with my arms, my broken legs dragging painfully and uselessly behind me. His gray eyes searched for mine. I met them as I tried to dig for the contents of my pockets, hoping I hadn’t broken them in the fall. I felt my legs already warming. I was healing.

  “Why?” Thanatos spit out blood with his words. His fingers moved slightly. His nerves were healing.

  “Love.”

  The lighter fluid was still in the container, which was not even scratched or cracked. I tested the lighter, which lit. Thanatos gawked at me, his eyes wide. He was utterly helpless.

  “W-what are you doing?” he gasped.

  I dragged myself a little closer, testing my legs. I could move them now. I squeezed the entire bottle of lighter fluid all over him.

  “No…no…don’t!” Thanatos pleaded. He was helpless, yet in moments, he would heal and take Callie away from me forever.

  “Will you take her?” I challenged.

  “I…I…have to,” he whimpered.

  He would never stop. He would kill Callie because he was ordered to, and he wanted to because he enjoyed his job. Seeing him touching her, trying to extract her soul and to take her away from me forever, had made me realize with a crushing finality that I couldn’t live without her. I had to do whatever it would take to keep her alive.

  “I am so sorry, Thanatos,” I told him, meaning it.

  Then I touched the lighter to him and pulled its trigger, which lit him instantly on fire. I dragged myself away against the wall, between two dumpsters, far from harm. I closed my eyes, but his screams were piercing. I covered my ears, but I could still hear his screams of pain, his suffering. I could visualize his broken and bloody body, his gray eyes pleading. Then chaos literally filled my mind, reminding me of the last time I had
seen it. The last Olympian immortals to die had been Psyche and Hedone. Then, I had been too late. This time, I was able to save my love. It was Callie or him, I thought over and over again like a mantra to assuage the sick feeling in my stomach that I attributed to rising guilt, struggling not to lose my mind as the images and memories flickered by relentlessly. Every sensation, feeling, event, every possible piece of matter, flesh, plant, tree, the light, the dark, life and death, pain, suffering, mortal, immortal—it all flashed before my eyes. Like the mortals who profess their life flashes before their eyes in the moment of their own death, for each immortal death, every moment of all time flashes before our eyes, each one with its array of feelings, thoughts, details, senses, and imagery. It is chaos, too much information for even the immortal mind to grasp, let alone process.

  The screams stopped, and then chaos vanished. I opened my eyes to see a pile of rubble on fire that no longer held a human form. I slipped the lighter back into my pocket in case I needed it again. It all seemed so surreal. I couldn’t believe what I had just done and witnessed.

  I closed my eyes and just lay there, letting my legs heal more. It would just take a minute for them to fully mend, but I felt vulnerable and out in the open, and there was Callie’s safety to consider. Zeus could send someone else after her while I was incapacitated. She’d live without there being a Death, but he could do much worse to her.

  Chapter 21Lucien

  I raced down the alleyways of Manhattan to Archer’s building. Chaos meant someone was dead. I hoped it wasn’t Archer, but I had a sickening feeling in my stomach. No matter who it was, one of us had died, and that was something to mourn.

  As I reached their block, I stopped when I saw them in the alley: Chase and Aroha helping a limping Archer, with Callie and her bat-wielding servant behind them. A smoldering pile of ashes told me it was someone else who’d died. The truth etched across Archer’s face told me he was the one who’d done it.

  I hurried to them, desperate for answers. Archer’s gaze met mine. He was pale, shaking, and in shock. “Thanatos came for Callie and her father.”

  His comment ignited a fuming anger, and Archer could sense my thinly veiled emotions. I was jealous and angry, and I feared for Callie’s life. I loved her, and he had almost gotten her killed by exposing his powers or identity—something had to have set off Zeus to order this. I was silent and followed them as the servant led us back into the building and into the elevator, up to the top floor, and then into Callie’s apartment. Dr. Syches was there, and on seeing all of us, he let out a relieved sigh and sank onto the couch.

  I stayed quiet as they discussed what had happened and what still might happen, how Zeus might punish Archer. I didn’t care anymore. I cared about Callie’s well-being, and I wasn’t sure how I’d let a mortal girl destroy my longest standing friendship, but it was done, and there was no way to undo it. The prophecy haunted me. Callie had truly changed us all forever.

  Callie’s father pumped us for info and told us about the things he’d found that were housed in his glass cases. When he was over all the excitement and was about to keel over on us, Callie sent him to bed. The conversation continued with Archer’s worried parents, while the lovers held hands and stared silently at each other.

  A tap at the door made me go rigid, Ares and Aroha alert, Callie quiver in fear, and Archer slump in defeat. The visitor knocked louder. No one moved at first to get it, but Aroha snapped to attention first. She headed to the door with a snarky, “Well, it’s not Death.”

  Hermes’s smug I-told-you-so mug came into view, followed by Aroha, who childishly made a face behind his back.

  “Well, here we are again, Eros.” His beaming smile belied his message. “You’re wanted in Fiji in four hours. I was sent to ensure you arrive promptly.” More like ensure Archer actually went.

  “What for?” Archer asked. He was feigning a calm mood and tone, but I could see the fear in his eyes.

  “Your trial,” Hermes said as if it were nothing.

  “I’ll go pack,” Aroha said quietly. She wasn’t joking around anymore, the gravity of the situation finally hitting her.

  “Zeus said he goes alone,” Hermes countered.

  “No, he doesn’t. I’m going with him.” Chase stood up, towering over the short Hermes. Chase was a pretty intimidating guy, although I was loath to admit it.

  “This isn’t a war, Ares, and I’m not your soldier to command.” Hermes sneered at him, but his eyes darted around at all of us. He was scared under all that fake bravado.

  Chase’s fists tightened. “If he harms a hair on my boy’s head—”

  “You’ll what, Ares? Fight your own father?” Hermes laughed.

  Chase simply stared him down. The staring contest lasted for a full minute before I finally had enough. “Hermes, if Eros has to attend a trial to receive a punishment, it only makes sense that his parents need to be there. Why don’t you send good ole Dad a text instead of throwing down the gauntlet to the god of war. I think we all know who would win.”

  “Admitting he’s your dad, Apollo? Progress,” Hermes said.

  “It’ll take me another three thousand years to admit we are even related.” I never saw Hermes as a half-brother.

  Callie’s mouth dropped at hearing my real name and my age, but Archer didn’t meet her quizzical gaze. He was staring at the messenger still. Her reaction made me wonder how their age gap conversation would go.

  “Why don’t we just stay quiet if we can’t be nice,” Aroha said. She was met with silence, so I guess no one had anything nice to say back.

  Hermes made himself at home by pulling a dining room chair over in front of the door as if to prevent us from leaving. We sat in silence. Only Aroha asked questions now and then to try to be somewhat polite to Hermes, or more likely, she was trying to break up the uncomfortable silence. Callie’s shock began to wane, but she must have been overwhelmed by everything. Then she started nodding off due to pure exhaustion. Archer led her to her room, entreating her to sleep. He seemed torn leaving her room. I think he was more afraid of what would happen next. We were all about to confront him about his stupidity, and I had to go first before I burst.

  “You ruined her life,” I said simply.

  Archer kept his gaze steady with mine. “I know.”

  “How can you be so calm about it? You’re going to be summoned to Olympus for only Zeus knows how long. What is she supposed to do without you? She’s better off dead than the state you’re leaving her in,” I protested.

  Given the state of Archer, I wasn’t ready for what happened next. Archer grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and, with great speed and exceptional strength, slammed me into the wall, leaving a large dent in it. I heard and felt my collar bone and a couple ribs break on the impact.

  “I’ve already killed one immortal tonight. Don’t push me into making it two,” Archer growled through clenched teeth.

  I shoved him off but doubled over in pain, still healing. “What? Don’t speak the truth? It’s what I do! You didn’t bind her? Do you realize she’ll never have a chance for happiness ever again? Love anyone else ever again? Think of how selfish you have been!” Let him deny it all. I’d see the lies in his eyes.

  “You would have let her die?” Archer laughed dryly like a madman.

  “Don’t avoid my question!”

  “Which one?” Archer shouted, shoving me down.

  “Stop it now,” Chase tried to command us. As our elder, he should’ve been able to command the situation. But something was off. I could lie, the god of love could kill, and Death had died. It had something to do with Callie, but what?

  “Just answer one question.” I glared at Archer. I stood up to my full height, healed, and pushed him back with my finger.

  “What?” Archer glared me down.

  “Did you bind her to you?”

  “Does it even matter at this point?” My question had confused Archer, but then his face fell. “You’re hoping with me out of the
way, you’ll have a chance with her.” His accusatory tone made me feel like a scumbag, but it was unfair to force Callie to love him.

  “This isn’t about me.”

  “I think it is, Lucien.” He glared at me. “I bound her, yes. At least now I know she’ll be safe from you.”

  I gave him a hard right hook that made his jaw crunch. He wouldn’t be able to talk for a minute. He had bound Callie, ruined her life, and ruined any chance I could’ve had with her in the future. He would refuse to undo the bind under some false pretense to protect her from me, when really, he was selfishly claiming her while shutting me out.

  Chase’s arms snaked me into a full nelson. There was no point fighting against the strongest god, so I gave in. I was thrown into a chair and ordered to stay there. Aroha gave me a glare and tended Archer’s jaw. I could see I was now on my own. The absentee parents were now going to fully support their criminal son.

  “This is hardly productive. Why are you so mad at him, Archer?” Aroha asked, completely confused.

  Chase sighed, exasperated. “Shouldn’t we be figuring out why Zeus wanted Callie dead?”

  “No, wait, dear. I want to figure out what is up with these two.” Aroha shifted back to the fallout between Archer and me. “You don’t seem surprised by any of this, Lucien, just angry at Archer. Tell me, Lucien,”—Aroha looked at me slyly—“have you not had any prophetic dreams of late? And exactly what was France all about?”

  Archer sat down, calmer but still glowering at me. “Go ahead,” Archer muttered through his clenched teeth, his jaw still healing.

  “There was nothing going on in France. Just my mother,” I lied, trying to stay vague.

  “He’s lying,” Archer accused.

  “Not this again,” Aroha rolled her eyes. “He can’t lie.”

  “Or can he?” Chase pondered.

  “What?” All three of us said in unison. I was astounded that he’d surmised the truth. Chase, the bullheaded fighter, my half-brother, had never been celebrated for his intellectual abilities.