by Staci Hart
“Morning,” she said as she patted his shoulder.
“Mornin’.”
“I can’t believe Lola’s still asleep. What is it? Seven?” She shuffled across the room and reached for the coffee pot to pour a cup.
“You’d better knock on wood. The days when I wake up before her are a cherished thing. Two-year-olds are all fine and dandy as long as they’re not in your face at six in the morning.”
Tori stirred her coffee. “Yesterday, she got about an inch away from my nose and whispered, ‘Mommyyyy.’ I almost head-butted her when I jumped. Our kid can be a real creep.”
“Yeah, well, a couple of days ago, she managed to knee me in the balls when she was climbing into my bed at five thirty. That has to be the worst way to wake up, and it was an unfortunate first. Hopefully, the last.”
Tori leaned against the counter and laughed. “Oh, man. I would have loved to see that.”
“I bet you would have.”
She stretched her neck and sighed. “Sorry I was so late last night. This new job is killing me. Thank goodness the pay is amazing.”
“It was fine. Lola and I watched Cops.”
“You did not, Jon.” She looked about ninety percent convinced.
He leaned back in his seat and smiled sideways at her. “We watched Yo Gabba Gabba! It was like being on drugs.”
“Oh, come on. DJ Lance Rock is amazing. I think you should dress up as him for Halloween. We’ll get you an orange spandex jumpsuit and a giant fuzzy hat.”
“In your dreams.” He took a bite of his eggs and made a face when he remembered they were cold. “What’d they have you doing so late?” he asked as he put his fork down and pushed his plate away.
“It’s not easy being the low man on the totem pole at Prince and Smith CPAs,” she said with an eye roll. “I have the coffee order memorized for every lawyer in the office. I’m an expert paper shredder and bringer of bagels. I’m also learning quite a bit about auditing between my grunt duties.”
“Aren’t you glad you got your degree so you could haul coffee into a corporate skyscraper for a bunch of assholes?”
“In heels, mind you.”
“How long until you blow a gasket and pour coffee in someone’s file cabinet?”
“Never, I hope.” She sat across from him at the table. “I’m trying to keep my mouth shut.”
“You don’t keep your mouth shut about anything else, so I can see how this would be difficult. I can see you now, serving coffee to a guy named Eugene with that look you get when you’re trying not to cuss somebody out.”
“You’re so understanding.” Tori patted his hand. “The pay’s too good to screw it up. It’s just ironic that I quit waiting tables so that I could work in a real profession and ended up waiting offices in heels and a lady suit.” She took a sip of her coffee and flicked a wad of paper. “Looks like you’re going strong this morning.”
“Easy there. That happens to be my heart and soul you’re mocking.”
“You’ve been writing that letter for a month.”
He sighed and leaned on the table. “I can’t get it right, and I can’t give it to her until it’s perfect.”
“There’s no such thing as perfect. Just dump out your guts, sign your name, and give it to her,” she said simply.
Jon rolled his eyes. “I can’t just hand it to her. She’d probably light it on fire in front of me and blow the ashes in my eyes.”
“And then kick you in the nuts.”
“It’s like you can see into the future,” Jon fired back.
Tori shrugged. “Just go over to her house. She lives, like, a block away.”
“Yeah, thanks again for that. It’s hard enough to be back in New York, never mind sharing a parking garage with her.”
“What? I get to pick where my apartment will be. My parents live two blocks away, and I liked this place. Sorry.”
“Liar.”
Tori giggled. “No, you’re right. I’m not sorry.” She picked up her coffee and made the dopey face she always used to make fun of him. “Why not just call her and say something like, Hey there, Josie. My heart has a major boner for you that it can’t get over. I’m sorry I’m a stupid idiot and didn’t say goodbye when I ran away. Also, I love you. Does that help?” She took a sip of her coffee, looking over the rim at him with expectant eyes.
He snorted a laugh. “You make it sound so easy.”
“So, when did you see her?” Tori asked as she put her coffee down.
“How do you know I’ve seen her?”
She looked bored. “Jon, you get that same schmoopy look on your face every time you think about her, and this morning when I walked in, you had it on again. I know you too well for you to get anything past me.”
“You’re relentless. You know that?”
“You’re annoying. This”—Tori motioned to him—“is why we never worked out. You never could handle me.”
“Oh, I recall handling you just fine.”
“You ass.” She laughed and threw his abandoned cloth napkin at him.
He caught it and threw it directly back, hitting her in the face.
“Goddammit, you really are annoying,” she said.
“I learned from the best.”
Tori stuck out her tongue and took a sip of her coffee. “So, when did you see her?”
He sat back in his seat. “Yesterday.”
“Awkwardness abounded?”
“As usual, but she didn’t insult me, not directly anyway. So, that’s progress, I suppose.”
“You need to just send her flowers,” she said matter-of-factly.
“You think you have all the answers, don’t you?”
She nodded emphatically.
“Listen, all I can do is try to prove that she can trust me. I have to believe that if I’m there for her, she’ll see the truth and forgive me. Thing is, she keeps slamming the door in my face, so I’ve got to find a window to climb in.”
“Are you still looking for that guy who killed Anne?”
Jon folded his arms across his chest. “Haven’t stopped since I found out she died, but I’ve only got as much to go on as the newspapers did, which is jack shit. I’ve been trying to let it lie until Josie calms down. I’m worried that asking her about it will set her off.”
“Think you’ll be able to bring it up soon?”
He shook his head and let out a breath. “I don’t know honestly. I know she hasn’t given up—that woman is a dog with a bone—but I can’t push her. I want to help her, but I can’t force her to accept it.”
Tori sat back and crossed her legs. “Maybe it’s time to try to press her to accept. I know you could help, and I’m sure she could use a hand. She’s got to be so far up that case’s ass, she sneezes crime facts.”
“You should write poetry.”
“I really should.” She reached for her romance novel with a pirate and a woman clutching each other on the cover.
He tilted his head to read the title. “Hidden Treasures? I don’t know how you read that stuff.”
She didn’t look up. “I use the same part of my brain that you use when you watch Dog the Bounty Hunter.”
“Goo’ morning!” Lola padded her way into the kitchen in footie pajamas, dragging her stuffed dog, Ruby, after her. Her blue eyes were bright, and her dark hair curled in fine waves just past her shoulders.
“Hey, baby.” Jon turned and opened his arms, hauling the toddler into his lap as soon as she was within reach. “You want some eggs?”
“Gross, Jon. Those are cold.”
“She doesn’t care. Look.”
Lola’s face was lit up like a lightbulb. “Eggies!” she squealed as she grabbed his fork, though it ended up being more for show as she used her chubby little hands to stop the eggs from falling back onto the plate.
Tori laughed, and Jon looked over his family, marveling at life and what a messy, glorious affair it was. For every bit of misfortune he’d had and every loss he’d endur
ed, there was something beautiful that balanced it.
He tried to find a way to be thankful for that at least.
Artemis hoisted herself out of the pond near her camp and walked, dripping and naked, to the massive rock at the edge of the water. The mountains of her realm in Olympus stretched up to the blue sky all around her, and tall pines rustled in the breeze, their needles whispering.
She had climbed the slate of the boulder—her favorite perch—millions of times in her life. If ever she wished for a throne, it would be a deerskin atop that stone, the place where she sought peace and solace. A place where she remembered and tried to forget.
Artemis found the familiar handholds without needing to look as she climbed nimbly to the top, stretching out on the warm stone when she reached it. The sounds of her Oceanids giggling and squealing in the pool below floated up to her as they splashed about, some braiding each other’s hair, threading flowers through their tresses. Even after thousands of years, her companions still acted like girls.
Artemis smiled at the notion as she folded her hands behind her head and breathed deep, listening to the rustle of the trees around her as the sun’s rays warmed her skin.
Her thoughts drifted toward the competition and Aphrodite, and her smile fell. Artemis always enjoyed games with her Oceanids, and most of the other gods proved to be formidable opponents. She knew what to expect with Ares, Athena, Hephaestus, but playing at love?
How drab.
At least she could meddle in Aphrodite’s plans. The thought brought a smile back to her face. Any time she could be the cause of Aphrodite’s discomfort was a happy time indeed.
But all amusement faded away as she recalled Josie’s meeting with Jon the day before. Aphrodite had had something to do with the encounter, she was sure. The likelihood of the two accidentally being at the same bar and going after the same bail-jumper was nearly impossible. The notion made Artemis uneasy, but she found comfort in the even smaller likelihood that the meeting would affect the outcome of the game.
Josie was an ideal choice. Her instincts were strong, and she was an excellent huntress. She was capable and confident, with little care for love. Josie’s hurt and loss hadn’t diminished her spirit; it’d spurred her to build up her armor, particularly against Jon. He had the tallest wall of all to climb.
After Anne had died, Josie had retreated into herself, into her work, keeping herself busy as she waited for the time when the pain was behind her.
It was a feeling Artemis knew all too well.
Orion’s face filled her mind, but she took a breath and turned her attention to the things she could control.
Past the camaraderie she felt with Josie, Artemis knew the human would not be quick or open with her heart. Jon had hurt her so deeply that, of all the possible choices Aphrodite might have made, he had to be the least likely to succeed.
Artemis was certain Josie would never forgive him, for who could forget such a betrayal? She found she couldn’t fathom the concept. Relationships were black and white. There were rules, and once a rule was broken, trust was broken along with it. The connection had to be severed for preservation, for protection against the offender.
Forgiveness and acceptance were not concepts Artemis had patience for.
She sensed movement and opened her eyes just as Eleni flew up to the top of the rock. Eleni was Artemis’s second-in-command and was as impertinent and brazen as she was capable and loyal. She was a cloud nymph, a Nephelai, with milky-white skin that glittered against the sun and wings the color of a rain cloud. When her feet touched the stone, she twisted her dripping black hair over her shoulder, extending her wings until they shuddered and trembled, shaking excess water off.
“Am I interrupting your solitude, mistress?” Eleni asked.
“No, although I am not certain how riveting my company will be. Are you sure you’d not be happier with everyone else?”
She settled in next to Artemis. “It was all fun and games until I was assaulted by a flying lily pad.”
“Ah, that is never agreeable.”
“No, it is cold and slimy and fills me with rage,” she said cheerily as she closed her eyes. “Well done on your choice of player. Josie is quite talented, if not a bit prickly.”
“I suspect I have a fair chance of winning. Josie plainly loathes Jon.”
Eleni scoffed. “Loathing is not the word I would choose to describe her feelings.”
“She does loathe him,” Artemis shot back. “He abandoned her for another woman, a woman who had his child. Three years have passed, all while Josie stewed over that singular fact, cursing his name. And when he returned, he dredged up emotions she would rather have forgotten. He is a constant reminder of her pain.”
“Jon is loyal and did what he believed was right. He left Josie because of Tori, not for her. Very different.”
“He left her all the same. The reason is irrelevant.”
Eleni cocked an eyebrow.
“Would you forgive him if you were her?”
Eleni pondered the question for a moment as they watched the clouds roll by. “I would likely consider it if he was persistent. He is very handsome.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Artemis said on a laugh. “How very human of you.”
“Groveling and gifts wouldn’t hurt either,” Eleni said with a shrug.
Artemis snorted.
The Nephelai sighed. “Humans are not all that bad, you know.”
“Not that bad?” Artemis propped herself on her elbow with her mouth agape. “Truly?”
Eleni rolled her eyes, and Artemis’s narrowed in answer.
“You impudent nymph. Fortunately, you have use to me, or I might have banished you a hundred times before today.”
Eleni laughed, the sound like tinkling bells, and Artemis fought the urge to throttle her.
“Oh, let’s not be silly, Artemis. You would never banish me.”
“I cannot say that I remember why at the moment.” She gave Eleni a look as she ticked off points on her fingers. “Humans have overpopulated the world and are thus destroying it. They’ve slaughtered animals and each other, consumed everything they’ve touched like fire and tinder—so much, in fact, that we have moved here to escape their destructiveness. They’re just as stupid as ever, and lastly, they ruin everything.”
“Personally, I find them fascinating.” Eleni gazed up at the sky.
Artemis glared. “You are vexing. Do you know that?”
“I do,” she sang.
Artemis lay back on the warm stone and closed her eyes.
They soaked up the sun for a few minutes in silence before Eleni spoke again, “Do you have any specific plans for the game? Anything waiting to rip the poor, unsuspecting humans apart?”
“Strategy has never been my strong suit. I much prefer a good chase to a chess game.” Artemis sighed. “I do so hate this game with Aphrodite.”
“Yes, but you do enjoy winning in general.”
“True,” Artemis said with a smile up to the sky. “I believe I might have a way to convince Josie to leave town for a while, which should put a damper on Aphrodite’s plans.”
“I am not convinced Aphrodite has many plans. She has endured quite a lot as of late.”
The crispness of the morning clung to the breeze that pushed past.
“Oh, I doubt she lacks in ideas, but she is distracted. If I find anything to stoke that flame, I’ll use it.”
“Well, what all is distracting her? Ares, but stoking that seems unnecessarily cruel.”
Artemis nodded. “I agree. I am uninterested in involving Ares in any plans of mine. Her other immediate distraction is her loss of Adonis. I cannot make that any worse than it is, not with him in the underworld and well beyond my reach.”
“Yes, he is about as unreachable as one can be, and even if he wasn’t, he has no memory of his human life.”
“The only thing she could ever do is watch him…gods, Eleni. What about Echo’s mirror?”
&nb
sp; Eleni’s face quirked in confusion. “Why ever would Echo need a mirror? She’s an apparition. She has no face.”
Artemis propped herself on her elbow and looked down at Eleni. “No, no. The mirror isn’t only a looking glass. It was Aphrodite’s once, long ago. Echo told me the story. You remember how Pan used to chase her before she was bodiless?”
“Her and every other nymph,” Eleni said with a wry half-smile.
“Well, yes, but particularly her. She and Aphrodite were quite close then. Everyone loved her stories before Hera cursed her to only speak echoes.”
“Hera and her curses. She’s the most spiteful, horrid, vindictive—”
“Yes, yes, but not the point. Aphrodite gave her the mirror, so she could evade the Satyr, but that particular mirror was also enchanted to see into the underworld.”
The plan clicked together behind Eleni’s eyes as she looked up at Artemis. “Brilliant. But why would Aphrodite ever have such a device?”
“To watch Adonis when Persephone held him captive in the underworld.”
Eleni sat up with a smile. “And you are positive Echo still has it?”
“There is only one way to find out,” Artemis said as she stood. “I will go to her and ask her to return it to Aphrodite.”
“What do you think Aphrodite will do?”
“If fortune finds me, Aphrodite will watch Adonis and do nothing else, which will allow me to retain control over the players.”
Eleni shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked up at Artemis. “It just might work.”
“Of course it will,” Artemis said with a grin, giddy at having a plan. “Round up the nymphs, and prepare for our afternoon hunt. I have an old friend to visit.”
“Yes, mistress.”
She turned to the edge of the rock, and the nymphs below moved to the shore, tilting their faces up to her as she lifted her arms and sprang from the ledge, falling down, down, until she slipped into the water like an arrow.
Artemis swam into the emerald depths of the small pond, past the rock face covered with plants that waved in the slow currents. She pulled herself through the entrance of a small cave with a natural skylight and looked up to the sun. Strands of her midnight hair hung in the water around her, much like her thoughts, which found their way to Orion again.
