Love & War

by Kaitlin Bevis

  Aphrodite

  GODS HELP ME, I was going to reach that shield today or die trying. It was bad enough my mind insisted on pumping me full of panic at the most inopportune moments, but did my body have to go and break too?

  My body. What a laugh. Was there anything left of my body under this glamour? I swore sometimes I could feel it tightening around me, sinking into my skin, becoming such a part of me that I wasn’t even surprised anymore when gold eyes looked back at me from the mirror.

  And so, I swam. When my arms and legs started to burn, I pushed on through the choppy water. My breathing went ragged, but I wasn’t any closer to those damn orange flags. Suddenly a muscle in my side went so tight, it felt like it was pulling my skin inside with it. I let out a surprised yelp and inhaled water. Sputtering, I tried to cry out but ended up with another mouthful of water.

  A moment of pure, blind panic followed. There was something I was supposed to do if I got a cramp while swimming, but I couldn’t make the pieces click together in my mind. Moving at all was its own special brand of agony, much less trying to breathe.

  Somehow, I made it back to shore, coughing and sputtering and trembling all over. I lay on the hot sand waiting for the agonizing pain in my side to subside and gradually came aware of laughter and playful shouting from the demigods up and down the beach.

  No one had noticed my struggle to stay above water. If I hadn’t gotten back to shore, if I’d stayed under, that could have been it. I’d survived poison, a severe beating, heart failure, stabbing, and infection after infection, and an afternoon’s swim could have done me in.

  Trembling all over, I crawled to my feet and walked along the beach until I found my towel, then made my way home, shaken by my own mortality.

  “Oh, hey!” Ares said when I walked in the door. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. I’m supposed to lend—What’s wrong?”

  I forced a smile to my face and brushed past him so I could get to the bedroom. “Oh, I’m tired. I’m going to—”

  “Don’t.” Ares’s hand closed around my shoulder, more suggestion than grip, and guided me around until I was facing him again in the narrow foyer. “We don’t do that with each other, remember?” He grinned. “You should. It’s your rule.” His grin faltered as he scanned my face. “What happened?”

  I stared at him for a moment, trying to see past Adonis’s picture-perfect golden features to find some glimmer of Ares. I found him in the expression of concern wrinkling Adonis’s golden features.

  “Can we just not talk?” I leaned against him, unwilling to admit how badly I’d failed today. Not on the heels of last night. He’d say all the right things and his eyes would go all soft and sympathetic on me, but I was so tired of being an object of pity.

  His arms closed around me. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you need.”

  “Need?” What I needed was feel some semblance of control. Of power. To stop thinking, dwelling, spiraling into panic or despair. My head rested on his shoulder. I drew in a sharp breath, nuzzling against him. His breath hitched.

  I lifted my head and brushed my lips against his, but I wasn’t satisfied with a mere kiss. My mouth captured his in a kiss so desperate, he gave in and returned it. The taste of salt laced my tongue.

  Heat radiated from his hands; one cupping the back of my neck, the other my hip. Ares always felt hot, glamour or no, and I was grateful, so grateful because if I closed my eyes, it didn’t matter that he looked like Adonis. That touch was all him.

  “Please,” I whispered when he started to pull away, the word transporting me back to another kiss on the cruise with Adonis. Another whispered plea, as desperate then as I felt now.

  Ares let out a shuddering breath. “Gods, I want to.”

  His lips brushed mine again as though drawn there and for one blissful moment, I lost myself in his touch.

  But Ares wasn’t Adonis.

  “It’s just . . .” He pushed me away, his hands going to my shoulders. “I don’t think you’re yourself right now.”

  “Really?” I laughed, a bitter sound that echoed off the low ceiling. “If this isn’t me, who is?” The girl in the mirror? Some pathetic excuse of a creature who sometimes couldn’t remember how to breathe? A powerless, weak thing that couldn’t get through the night without a babysitter?

  “I was designed for this.” My voice cracked. “And when it’s with you . . .”

  What was I doing? “I’m—I’m so sorry. That was—Oh my gods.” I stumbled away, my towel scraping against the matte wall, fully intent on fleeing to my room before I could embarrass myself further.

  “Wait.” He caught my wrist. “No, wait, hang on. Aphr—” Ares broke off with a curse. “Just talk to me, okay? Please? You’re scaring me.”

  I couldn’t seem to stop shaking my head, afraid if I spoke, I would shatter what was left of my composure. “Please let me go,” I managed to say around a wedge of tears working up my throat.

  He released me and I rushed down the hall, slamming the door to the bedroom behind me. I slid against the door until I reached the floor, my knees drawn to my chest, hands covering my face and broke down, letting out heaving sobs that felt like they were torn from somewhere inside of me.

  Ares could hear me. He had to be able to hear me, but I couldn’t stop. Everything. I’d lost everything. And I kept trying to be strong, to make the best of this horrible situation, but every one of my strengths had been reduced to a weakness.

  So I cried myself dry, forced a smile to my face, and steeled myself to walk out of this room. It was time to meet Medea and the girls to try on clothes in that horrible basement.

  “I’ve been where you are.” Ares’s words caught me like a physical snare just before I crossed the threshold to exit the cabin. “Not for the same reasons and not for as many, but I know what it’s like to feel like you’ve got nothing left.”

  I turned, finding him leaning against the doorframe that led into the living room. “What did you do?”

  “A lot of stupid things.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “And eventually some smart ones. Find someone you can talk to. It doesn’t have to be me, but it can be.”

  Nodding, I fought back a swell of tears.

  My feet stirred up dust along the dirt path to the dining hall, coating my sandals in a silty brown. I’d promised Ares anything once. Anything. Without condition. Of course, I’d been charmed half out of my mind at the time. But the fact that he, as far as I could tell, had never even considered calling me on it before releasing me from my vow still shocked me.

  He’d made no secret of how he felt about me. I knew that anything that developed between us could never be casual and I knew that he wasn’t in a place to go down that road right now. And knowing that, I still threw myself at him.

  If that was the kind of person I was, did it matter that I was losing myself, bit by bit? Maybe I deserved to be lost.

  “You okay?” Medea asked when I got to our usual table. “You look pretty down.”

  “It’s been a crappy day.” I frowned, studying the slump in her shoulders and the circles around her eyes, so dark they almost matched her pupils. “You don’t look much better. What’s going on?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Me either.” I slid onto the bench, dropping my tray in front of me.

  “Well . . .” Medea drew in a deep breath, her shoulders straightening as if she was steeling herself for battle. “We can either sit here and feel sorry for ourselves, or we can at least attempt to make the day better with some retail therapy.”

  I blinked at her transformation and took a bite of my sandwich. “Don’t we need to wait for Glauce and Otrera?”

  “They can catch up later. Come on!” Medea grabbed my hand and pulled me up from the table.

  “But . . . l
unch.” I said, digging my feet in long enough to grab my sandwich and my water before she yanked me through the dining hall.

  “You can eat anytime.” She plowed through the hallway and down the steps, talking a mile a minute. “Okay, so like I said, don’t get too excited. The stuff down here is bare bones. Get those, would you?” she asked, motioning to a stack on the shelf Ares and I had hidden behind last night. “I noticed something when checking the shipment the other day.” She yanked open a box, then gave me a knowing look. “You didn’t order anything.”

  “I’ve got enough to get by.” Plus, I already felt guilty for draining their medical resources.

  “If you’re on vacation,” Medea replied with a snort. “You live here, now. It’s never going to feel like home if you keep living out of a suitcase. Ah, this stuff is all crap.” Closing one box, she moved it back to the shelf and opened another. “Jeans, in a variety of sizes.” She grabbed another box. “Cotton T-shirts, in assorted sizes and colors.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Socks, underwear, and yes, bras.” Medea pushed the box onto the shelf. “What have you got?”

  I glanced in my boxes. “Swimwear, flip flops, and hoodies.”

  Medea frowned. “I guess it makes sense he’d go pretty utilitarian with the emergency supplies. Come on.” She retreated to the stairs. “I’ll let Otrera and Glauce know this was a bust. We’re going catalogue shopping for the next shipment and”—she shot me a grin—“we’re gonna primp.”

  “Primp?”

  She looked me up and down. “You were a model before you got here, and a damn good one, based on everything I’ve seen. Now . . .” Medea winced. “I mean, no offense, but you kind of look like you’ve been getting dressed in the dark.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Go up.” She motioned to the stairs. “I gotta get the light.” Once the room went dark, she followed on my heels. “Like I said, no offense. At first I thought it was just residual hospital stuff, you know? Like maybe getting ready was hard. But now?”

  She closed the door behind us. “There’s nothing wrong with throwing something on in the morning and rocking a ponytail. Otrera does it and it works for her. But nothing I know about you says that’s your thing. When I looked you up online, everything in your feed was “wow, I’m so excited about this outfit” and makeup tutorials. And you looked happy doing it. I know all the near-death stuff sucked, but if you avoid the things that used to make you happy, how are you ever gonna stop being sad?”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Just do something that makes you happy,” was such typically human response to depression. How a species understood so little about their own brains was beyond me. But somehow or another, blending in had become the only thing I was doing right, and I couldn’t afford to mess it up now. So I played along and helped her find Otrera and Glauce. We spent the afternoon poring over catalogues, painting each other’s nails, and lamenting that none of us felt confident enough to try our hand cutting hair.

  As we giggled over mimosas, I caught myself wondering when my stolen life became preferable to my real one.

  “IT’S CALLED DISASSOCIATION,” Athena said when I described how I’d felt that night. “Quite common in cases like yours.”

  I gave her a flat look across the table, and she grew flustered.

  “Clearly, the glamour and the impersonation are compounding the issue. What you require is something to ground you. Something that was true about yourself pre-trauma that remains so now, something you can focus on. And sex, while enjoyable and a common coping mechanism after grappling with one’s mortality, is likely not a wise choice under these circumstances.”

  “No, you’re not—” I shifted in the uncomfortable wooden chair. “The way I threw myself at him didn’t even make sense. There was no logic there, no crossed signals, no build-up even. It felt like charm. Like I was rationalizing feelings someone else put in my head.”

  “Ares wouldn’t charm you.”

  “I’m not saying he would. I’m just . . . it didn’t make sense.”

  Athena tilted her head. “You’ve admitted to having feelings for Ares.”

  “But it didn’t matter that it was Ares. It was a nice bonus, but I honestly don’t think it would have mattered who was in the room.” I swallowed hard, horrified at the realization. “I told you about when Adonis and I . . .”

  “Yes.” Athena nodded when it became clear I was never going to finish that sentence.

  I looked at the nearest bookshelf in an effort to avoid her piercing gaze. “He said he didn’t charm me, but I never really believed him. Not until today.”

  Athena gave me a sympathetic smile. “As I said, sex is not an uncommon coping mechanism. It’s just not a terribly healthy one. I’d like you to give the matter some thought and try to find something that was true for you before your second encounter with Zeus and remains true today. I’d also like to suggest exercise.”

  “Swimming hasn’t exactly gone well.”

  “Something different. I would suggest something you can simply stop and do anywhere, anytime. Something with a predictable routine and structure. That will help ground you before you feel a panic attack coming on or before your mind latches onto a more destructive form of escapism.”

  Book titles swirled into a jumble of letters up and down their spines. Odd that she’d bothered to title them. “Yeah, okay. Sure, I’ll give it a try.”

  “Wonderful.” She leaned back in her chair. “Now let’s return to the container exercise. Imagine a box that’s large enough to hold all of your feelings and stressful sensations.”

  I rolled my eyes, but found myself picturing a painting I’d seen in the children’s book on Greek mythology Ares had given me. Pandora, desperately holding down the lid to a large, ornate, golden box. “Okay.”

  “Put all your distressing emotions into the box. Make sure you get them all in.”

  Athena guided me through fitting all my feelings into the box, locking the box, putting a special tap on the box so I could draw out one feeling at a time, and all that mumbo jumbo, reminding me, all the while, that if ever my distressing feelings were triggered, I could just put them back in the box.

  I followed along, because, as stupid as the exercise felt, I was still enough of a god for all the facts and science behind the technique to click into place in my mind. And we’d done this enough that I knew what was going to happen next. I’d need every coping mechanism I knew to get me through it.

  “Now,” Athena said, folding her hands on her lap. “I’d like you to take me through it again, from the beginning.”

  “We’ve gone through this a thousand times,” I groaned, laying my head down on the table. “What could possibly be left to tell you?”

  “Confronting your memories and your triggers will help your mind to realize that the trauma has passed. If—”

  “I get it.” Wincing at the snippiness of my tone, I let out a long breath. “Sorry.” Ever since I’d started these sessions, I couldn’t stop myself from getting irritable and snappish toward her. I could feel my hackles rise the second I entered the dreamscape, and I didn’t relax until I left. “You’re doing me a favor and I keep acting like a complete and total—”

  “It’s natural to grow defensive,” Athena said with a wave of her hand. “It’ll pass. So, let’s begin. Start at the beginning.”

  I drew in a deep breath and started my story again. “When Persephone introduced me to ‘Joel’—” I said, referring to a boyfriend Persephone had after she and Hades broke up for a while because he couldn’t get over their age difference. “—I didn’t realize he was Zeus. Not at first . . .”

  Chapter XXII

  Medea

  THE NEXT MORNING, I headed to the hospital as soon as I woke up. Jason was occupied on the other end of the island, so I knew I wouldn’t run into him. Good thing, sin
ce I was too insipid to confront him. Disgusted with myself, I headed into the pharmacy.

  The pills weren’t there. Stunned, I checked and rechecked the itemized pharmacy order. They hadn’t just not come in; they’d never been paid for in the first place. Fighting back panic, I told the pharmacist in no uncertain terms to include the pregnancy-ending pills in the next shipment.

  Driven by a desperate need to distract myself, I studied the shield behind the hospital. If I messed with it, Glauce would know and I’d have to explain myself. But maybe it was possible to find another way through it from inside the hospital.

  Keeping the layout of the building in mind, I entered the lobby. If I kept walking straight, I’d run into the reception desk, which backed up to the glass walls of the clinic. To my left were the remnants of the hospital gift shop and the pharmacy.

  “Can I help you?” A nurse at the reception desk asked as I walked to the gutted gift shop.

  “Pretend I’m not here,” I said, unconcerned about the nurse who’d been charmed to obey my every order. I walked to the front of the gift shop and looked out the window. This should be an exterior wall, I thought, frowning.

  “There’s no way.” From the outside, there was still nearly a quarter of the building left before I could round the corner to the dumpsters. I exited the gift shop and continued along the left wall. Passing the pharmacy, I didn’t pause until I reached the glass walls of the clinic. To my right, a line of red tape lay before the swinging wooden doors.

  “That’s surgery,” I murmured, then glanced up at the ceiling. “Patient rooms.” I looked down at the floor. “Gym down below, then offices.” Frowning, I tried to figure out what I was missing.

  Surgery to my right. Clinic directly in front. Exit to my back. So, where would the dumpsters be? To my left. I knew that, so why . . .

  My eyes kept skidding back to the glass wall of the clinic, but I took a deep breath and forced myself to focus. It was just a wall. I ran my hand along the glass until it merged with the matte paint of the wall. Beneath my hand, the texture changed from matte to smooth as a surge of power greeted my palm.