by Aimée Carter
I stood, brushing off my tunic. “Finally decided I don’t have anything worth stealing, did you?”
“Just go,” she said, paling as she took a step away from me. “Before I change my mind.”
That was a new one. Usually mortals didn’t try to push me away. Even when I didn’t admit who I was, there was a natural connection between gods and mortals. Sort of like the food chain. We’re dependent on them, they’re dependent on us—
So why were we dying off when they were still here?
As the girl started down the trail, flanked by her three henchmen, my stomach grew hollow. I’d known her for all of two minutes, and seeing her walk away made me ache. So maybe my powers weren’t completely out of whack. Maybe she did know something.
“Wait,” I called, trotting toward them. “Could I join you?”
“No,” she said flatly without turning around. “We have trouble finding enough food for all of us as it is.”
“I can get my own,” I said. “Hell, I can get yours, too.”
Her steps grew uneven, as if something was holding her back. “I don’t believe you.”
“Then let me prove it.” I nodded to the trail. “Meet me back here in ten minutes.”
“You can get enough food to feed all five of us in ten minutes?” She turned to face me, smirking now, though there was still a hint of fear in her eyes. “All right, we’ll wait. And if you don’t show up with enough to feed us, then we’re leaving, and you’re on your own. And we take whatever food you do bring.”
“Deal.” I gave her a slight bow. “Don’t move.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
She sounded confident enough, but one wrong move, and I knew she’d be gone. So I walked into the woods with as much purpose as I could muster. If robbery was a matter of survival for them, then no wonder they were practically drooling at the thought of a full meal. From the looks of the youngest kid, they’d probably been hungry for most of their lives.
Once I was completely out of sight and earshot, I created five dead rabbits and three quail, along with a pouch full of berries. She already knew something wasn’t right about me, so no harm in exacerbating it. With luck she’d be willing to excuse it if it meant her belly was full.
“Dinner,” I called as I stepped back onto the trail. “Couldn’t find any greens, but I figured you’ve all had enough of…”
I trailed off. The path was empty. Was this the right spot? Of course it was. I never got lost. Where the hell were they?
I sighed. I could take off. Figure out another way to find this solution. The universe had a sense of humor sometimes, sure, but that didn’t mean I had to put up with it. There had to be a better way.
As soon as I closed my eyes, however, a bolt of lightning lit up the sky, followed by the dangerous clash of thunder. Perfect. If Zeus knew I was here, it’d only be a matter of time before he found me. He didn’t have my abilities, but he was Zeus.
I took off as fast as I could without dropping the game. No idea where I was going—I just ran. The deeper into the woods I was, the less chance Zeus would have of spotting me, and right now I really did not want to go back to Olympus.
I stumbled across their camp without realizing that’s where I’d been heading the whole time. The four of them sat around a pitiful fire, and though they’d been talking in low voices before, the moment I appeared, they all fell silent. The little kid—the one who’d stopped me on the trail—fell off his stump.
“Devil be gone!” he cried, while the girl stood abruptly.
“What are you doing here? How did you find us? And what—” Her eyes narrowed. “What is all that?”
“This?” I held up the game. “Your dinner. Or it would’ve been if you hadn’t ditched me.”
Her eyes went huge, and she moved toward me, holding out her hand. I stepped back.
“Nope,” I said. “Not until you let me join you.”
“We’re full up, sorry,” she said, making another grab for the food, but I shifted away from her.
“Then it looks like I’m going to be gorging on rabbit and quail tonight.”
“C’mon, Tuck,” said the boy. “Just for tonight. I’m really hungry.”
“Please, Tuck,” said Sprout, whose hands were wrapped in cloth. Apparently someone had been injured in our little fight, after all. “We’re starving.”
The girl—Tuck, I assumed—scowled. “Fine. One night.”
The two boys erupted in cheers, while Mac grinned on the other side of the fire. I offered her the string of rabbits, and she snatched it from me. “Thank you,” I said.
“Don’t thank me. You’re gone by morning.”
“And what if I don’t want to leave?”
“Then we’ll just ditch you again. Mac, here.” She handed the rabbits to him, and Sprout leaped forward to take the quail from me, too. “Perry, do something about this fire. It’s pathetic.”
The little boy darted forward to tend to the flames, and I made myself comfortable on a log. After Perry spent a few minutes unsuccessfully poking the embers with a stick, I encouraged the fire to burn a little warmer. No harm in helping out. They didn’t need to know.
When the flames grew without any real help from Perry, however, Tuck gave me a look. I returned it with a vague smile. She might’ve suspected, but after the way she’d run away, I wasn’t about to give up my secrets. Not until she gave up hers.
Soon enough, a delicious scent wafted through the air, and even my mouth started to water. I’d used my powers too much today—I needed food, and I needed sleep. Desperately. Rabbit and quail weren’t usually my thing, but they’d have to do tonight.
Mac offered the first rabbit to Tuck, who waited until we all had one before she started to eat. Polite to her own, at least, even if she couldn’t spare some of that grace for me.
“So how do you all know each other?” I said. They were all so engrossed in eating their rabbits that for a moment, no one spoke. At last Tuck stuck a bone in her mouth, sucking off the juices.
“Luck,” she said. “Our parents were killed in the war, so we all banded together. Only way we can survive.”
“Doesn’t seem like you’re doing a great job of it,” I said, and the moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Stupid, stupid, stupid thing to say, insulting her like that in front of everyone, and I quickly added, “I mean—can’t be that easy, living in the woods by yourself.”
Tuck’s expression hardened, and she threw the bone into the fire. “We can’t all be a hunting prodigy like you,” she muttered, refusing to look at me. Didn’t blame her. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut for once?
“Tuck’s brilliant,” said Perry through a mouthful of rabbit. “She’s the smartest person I know.”
“That’s because the only other people you know are Sprout and Mac,” said Tuck, but she blushed at the compliment anyway.
“Is that why you won’t let me join you?” I said. “Because you’re afraid I’ll replace you as leader?”
She looked at me sharply, her blue eyes guarded. So I was right, then, “I won’t let you join us because I don’t trust you.”
“But I could feed you,” I said. “And I could never take your place, you know.”
“Doesn’t matter. I still don’t trust you. I don’t even know your name.”
I sighed. “If I tell you my name, will you let me into your group?”
“If you tell me your name, I’ll consider letting you prove yourself to us,” she said. “No promises.”
Clearly that was the best I was going to do, so I shrugged. I could lie, but if she really held the answer to what was happening to my family, then I couldn’t risk destroying the shaky ground we were already on. Besides, it wasn’t as if I hadn’t revealed myself to mortals before. It’d gone well in the past. Most of the time. And between the lack of bleeding and the quick turnaround on a feast, I’d already shown them my abilities. They had no reason to question me.
That was the
worst, when mortals went on and on, quizzing me, testing me, demanding to see my powers in action—as if my word wasn’t enough. Which, all right, to be fair, it probably wasn’t. Otherwise any crazy mortal could go around acting like they were one of us.
So I squared my shoulders, looked her straight in the eye, and said, “My name is Hermes.”
I expected her to gape at me, to gasp, to demand proof—any one of the same reactions I’d gotten time and time again. Instead she stared at me.
And—that was it. She just sat there. And blinked. And finally said, “That’s the dumbest name I’ve ever heard.”
Now it was my turn to stare. She’d never heard of me? “Sometimes I go by Mercury,” I said cautiously. The Roman Empire was still around, after all.
“That’s even worse,” she said. “I mean, really. If you’re going to give yourself a nickname, at least let it be a good one.”
She really had no idea. Normally that wouldn’t have been any big deal, but we weren’t that far from Greece, and this island had once been part of the Roman Empire. Yet she didn’t have a clue. None of them did.
We were their gods, their rulers—our word was absolute, or at least it was to them. How was it possible they didn’t even realize we existed?
“So,” she said, interrupting my thoughts. “Since Hermes and Mercury won’t do, what are we going to call you?”
I bit my tongue. The last thing I needed was for her to take a sarcastic response seriously. “I don’t know. What do you consider to be a proper name?”
Tuck drummed her fingers on her thigh. Even when she was sitting there, doing nothing but thinking, there was something incredibly intriguing about her. Something didn’t fit. The way she held herself, the way she spoke—she was too cultured for this life. And for a girl to take the lead of a pack of boys, all of whom would be stronger than her in a few short years, if they weren’t already…
Across the fire, Sprout cleared his throat. “If you two lovebirds need a minute alone…”
Another bone went flying through the air, bouncing off his head with surprising grace. Tuck glared. “Don’t even, Sprout.”
He cowered and held up his hands in defeat. “All right, I’m sorry!”
“You’d better be. One more wisecrack, and Perry gets your blanket tonight. Now.” She turned back to me. “Your name. This is important, you know. You don’t have to look like you’re about to burst out laughing.”
I wasn’t, but for her sake, I made my expression go neutral. “Why is this important?”
“Because your name is your destiny. It’s your identity—it’s everything you are. Once you have your name, that’s it. That’s all you’ll ever be.”
“And yet you’re giving me a new one,” I said, and she shrugged.
“Sure, because once you have a new name, you’ll be a new person. Not literally, obviously,” she said when I opened my mouth to protest. “But in the eyes of everyone else, you’re fresh. You’re unknown, a blank slate, and your name decides whether you stand out, blend in—you can fool yourself into thinking you’re more than your name, but you never will be. Not until you start over and make another one for yourself.”
Something pinged in the back of my mind, but I was too caught up in the way her lips moved to pay any attention. “So who am I then?”
She tapped her chin, and I held my breath. I understood what she was saying far better than she probably thought I did; I’d had plenty of names before, after all, but for some reason, this seemed monumentally more important than all the rest. “James,” she said. “Definitely a James.”
I raised an eyebrow. So much for monumental. “James? Really?”
“Yes, really. What’s wrong with James?”
“Nothing, I just—”
“You just what?”
I watched her for a long moment, and she didn’t so much as blink. “It’ll do,” I finally said, and she grinned.
“Of course it will. You don’t look like much, but a lot is happening underneath the surface. That’s the kind of name James is.” Popping a few berries into her mouth, she chewed slowly, her eyes fluttering shut as if she were savoring them. “Mmm. I’ve never had these before. You’re sure they’re not poisonous?”
“Positive. Despite your strange taste in names, I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“I’m not so sure.” She opened her eyes again and glanced around the circle, as if she was sizing everyone up. “All right, James. You really want the chance to prove yourself to us?”
They weren’t getting rid of me, but I might as well be polite about it. “Yes.”
“If you’re going to run with us, you’re going to have to steal. You think you can do that?”
“I think I can manage.”
“Tomorrow the earl who owns this land is going to be coming down that trail—”
“Tuck!” cried Perry, but Sprout clapped his hand over his mouth.
“—and you have to rob him.”
Perry squirmed in Sprout’s grip, but I held Tuck’s gaze. A robbery. Easy enough. I’d done plenty of those in my lifetime. “Anything in particular you want me to take?”
She toyed with the end of her braid, but there was something in the way she watched me that made it clear this was more than just some robbery to her. A hunger that hadn’t been there before. “Let’s make it interesting. Steal the pendant from around his neck, along with any other valuables you find.”
“And if I can do it?”
“Then you’ll be one of us.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You show us how you hunt, and then you leave us alone. Forever.”
Forever was much, much longer than she realized. I stuck my hand out, and she grasped my fingers, her grip surprisingly strong. “Deal,” I said.
She smirked, and my stomach did a flip-flop. “Deal.”
* * *
The convoy approached our section of the trail shortly after dawn. Six men, all riding stallions that pranced too much to be completely broken. Good. That would work in my favor.
It was easy enough to tell who the leader was—not the man at point who wore a cape with an insignia on it. Judging by the way he tilted slightly to his left, toward an older man who sat up straighter than the others and stuck his nose in the air, the first was a decoy. The other man was the real earl.
Tuck, Sprout, Perry and Mac—who still hadn’t said a single word to me—all waited in the trees, shielded by the thick foliage. Even if someone did spot them, they’d have the advantage, and that calmed my nerves. The last thing I wanted was to have to escort one of them down into the Underworld. Judging by the way Perry had deftly avoided me that morning, however, I figured they all expected me to be the one who bit the dust.
I sat in a tree as well, much lower than the others, and I waited. The procession had to squeeze through the narrow pathway, the horses bumping one another and spooking, but there wasn’t anywhere to go. They were trapped. I held my breath and slowly counted. Three, two, one…
Leaping from the tree, I landed squarely on the back of the earl’s horse, and I held a piece of sharp rock to the old man’s neck. The other men shouted, and their horses reared. But despite flying hooves and the screech of metal against metal as they unsheathed their swords, I held on tight. This was the easy part.
“Can’t run me through, not without hurting your master, as well,” I said, snatching the pendant that hung around the earl’s neck. Whatever it was, it meant more to Tuck than my life—not that that was saying much, but still.
“Let me be,” he wheezed. “Take whatever you wish.”
“I already have.” I nodded to the other horsemen. “Unload your packs on the side of the trail. Don’t hold anything back.”
The earl waved a trembling hand, and one by one, the others dumped the contents of their packs into a pile. Even though they were armed and far bigger physically than I was, they sensed what Tuck clearly hadn’t—my godhood. My immortality. The natural fact that I was more
than they were.
Maybe Tuck did realize it. Maybe she just clung to her leadership so tightly that she couldn’t yield to anything, even instinct. Didn’t matter, really. I didn’t want her job. I wanted the answers she didn’t know she had.
“Good,” I said once they’d finished. “The rest of you, go up the trail. Once you’re gone, I’ll let your leader go.”
The guards did as I said, disappearing as fast as they could spur their skittish horses into submission. I held on to the earl until they were out of sight, and after I waited half a minute, I loosened my grip on him. “Leave. And if I receive any word of retaliation, your neck will be the least of your worries.”
The moment I jumped off his horse, they took off, the old man clinging to the beast for dear life. I should’ve felt sorry for him, and part of me did, I suppose—it’d hardly been a fair fight. But whoever he was, he was clearly much better off than Tuck and her gang. And I couldn’t muster up an apology for helping them.
“That was brilliant!” cried Perry from far above me, and he slid down the trunk of the tree and scampered toward me. “How did you do that?”
“I think we’d all like to know,” said Tuck, and she swung down from the lowest branch, landing on her feet. “How did you manage to convince the most fearsome earl in the land to give up his most prized possession?”
“What, this?” I said, holding up the pendant. She made a grab for it, but I pulled it back, far out of her reach.
“Give it,” she growled, and I grinned.
“You said I had to steal it. You never said I had to give it to you.”
“Mac!” she said. “A little help?”
Mac, who was busy rummaging through the pile the guards had left behind, raised his head and blinked. And without saying a word, he ducked back down to examine a bag of beans. My grin grew wider.
“Tell me why you want it, and I’ll give it to you,” I said.
“It’s worth your weight in gold, that’s why.”
But the cautious way she watched the pendant didn’t make sense. She didn’t act greedy about it—instead she reeked of desperation. Like this meant more to her than air. “I don’t believe you.”
