by Tee, Marian
"Please don't force me to serve you."
Are you saying it must come to that? You will not serve me willingly?
"You say you know everything there is about me..."
I do.
"Then you must know about how my biological parents died." I find myself holding my breath as I wait for his answer. The cynical part of me is already prepared to be disappointed; he is a god, after all, and he can simply demand me to surrender to his authority if he so wishes.
But when the god finally responds, it's in a way I find completely unexpected, with his hand falling away from my hair, and my chest subsequently squeezing at the sudden loss of his touch.
Do you fear me then?
My lips part, but no words come out because I truly don't know how to answer him.
I had hoped you would be able to love me without seeing me,
but it seems I was wrong about this as well.
His words throw me in a state of confusion. "What are you saying?"
It doesn't matter—-
"Of course it matters!" It's not like me to be this emotional, but there's just something about this whole conversation that suddenly makes me feel like I'm walking on a stupid tightrope. "Gods don't do love!"
This one does, apparently.
Sweet. Greek. Heavens. Is he serious? No. He can't be. It's impossible because—-
"Gods don't do love," I say again, but my voice sounds uncertain even to my ears.
You've already said that.
"Because you're not making sense," I can't help snarling back. "Are you truly saying you've somehow fallen in love—-"
Would you believe me if I do?
"But you barely know me!"
That is where you're wrong.
He sounds so grimly certain that I actually find myself hesitating. Is it possible for me to have met him without knowing he was a god? "I feel like I would've remembered you if I met you."
Perhaps.
"Will you please stop speaking in riddles? Did I or did I not—-" A finger suddenly presses against my lips, and I find myself obeying his silent command to stop speaking.
Once, a long, long time ago, the Crones told me I was to fall for a girl lying in a pool of blood.
I refused to believe them...and because of that I failed to protect you on that day.
I blame myself for that, and it is why I arranged for you to live in Rosethorne.
Here, you will no longer be in danger.
But I also promised myself to stay away from you. I intended to keep it, too, except...
"I found you instead," I whisper in realization. "That night, in the labyrinth. You didn't mean to see me."
No. I did not.
"But you did."
But I did.
"And so you ended up changing your mind."
Yes.
"Because you found me pathetic?"
Because I found it impossible to stay away.
So I promised myself instead that I would always protect you. Cherish you.
That was the only thing I wished to do, but now I know it's impossible.
Because he thinks I'm scared of him.
I did not mean to make you live in fear because of me.
I am not used to making so many mistakes.
But with you somehow, it is the only thing I seem capable of doing.
There's something in those words...something about it feels so wrong, but I don't get a chance to think things through.
"Wait—-"
But it's too late.
He's gone.
And I'm no longer dreaming.
Chapter Twelve
It's another day in Rosethorne, and since Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays have the same schedule, it's the professor I find standing before me once again, first thing in the morning. His clothes are a tad more laidback this time: loose, black dress shirt tucked into belted khaki pants that expose his ankles and loafers. He's also left a few buttons undone, just enough to reveal a bronze expanse of hard, muscled skin, and the sight alone yields an impressive amount of drool.
Hmph.
The professor's gaze slides to me every so often, and it's making my heart race and ache at the same time. How is it possible that I still find him beautiful...even as I hate him? Why do I feel this strange connection to him...even while a part of me is still reeling from the pain of being abandoned by a god?
I used to secretly look down on people trapped in love triangles, but since karma always fucking bites, I'm not only ensnared in my own triangular dilemma, but it also happens to be the very worst of its kind.
There's me, the girl who has to make a choice.
But what kind of choice can I make when one man only wants a fuck buddy while the other man has already quit the game?
Whatever.
What's done is done, and I should get on with my life. I'm going to ignore all of these pesky, pathetic feelings churning inside of me, and I'll keep ignoring them until they fade away in time. That's the plan at least...but the plan goes up in flames the moment class ends, and I hear the professor ask me to stay behind.
Shit.
A few girls attempt to hang back in order to listen in, but the professor only has to look at them with his cold, near-black eyes, and they're already scurrying away like mice. In mere seconds, it's just me and the professor, and even though I still think he's the world's biggest jerk, it doesn't seem to make any difference to my heart, which is now pounding like crazy against my chest.
"It's rare for someone to take me by surprise, Ms. Mariposa."
Okaaaaay.
"But you managed to do that yesterday," he says levelly.
Shit.
I can't help stiffening in my seat, knowing right away what he's talking about.
"Was it the truth, or were you simply saying what you thought would keep me away?"
"It was the truth." And it was. I'm using the past tense, so it's not exactly a lie.
"And this god's name?"
"I can't say." Because I don't know what the god's name is, so that, technically, isn't a lie either.
"I hope you're not playing any games with me, Ms. Mariposa."
"I'm not." Because there isn't any game to play.
"And you are truly choosing this god over me?"
I allow myself a slight nod, and the professor's lips tighten in response. "As you wish then." He nods at me in dismissal, and I find myself watching him walk out of the classroom. I know I shouldn't have been surprised by his callousness, but I am.
I force myself to get up, and I bite down hard when I feel my lower lip start to tremble.
Get your shit together, Halyna.
The professor said it himself from the start: I'm his intriguing little thing...and today, he's just letting me know I'm not intriguing enough for him to go up against a god.
The days fly by, but the nights move slow, and before I know it, my first week in Rosethorne has finally come to an end, but with more of a whimper than a bang. A part of me had dreaded history repeating itself, but other than the usual mean and jealous bees either throwing shade or giving me the cold shoulder, it's actually a lot more peaceful here compared to how things were in my former school.
I can feel Nia's gaze following me as I get up from my chair and settle down somewhat restlessly on the window nook.
"You're looking a little pale."
"I'm fine." I've always been pale, and it's likely to stay that way. If my skin's refused to tan even under scorching California summers, I doubt there's anything mild Vermont rays could do to change the status quo.
A glance outside reveals a full moon gleaming above empty and quiet roads. It's only six o'clock on a Friday evening, but just like how it was the last weekend I came here, most other students have left, and Rosethorne is once again this vast, beautiful...ghost town.
"I'm serious."
Nia's tone has me looking back at her, and I see my roommate rummaging through the drawers of her writing desk. "You've been l
ooking really awful, lately, and...here."
She suddenly tosses something my way, and I nearly fall to the floor to catch it. My fingers uncurl, and I find myself staring straight into my reflection on a compact mirror.
Huh.
I can't remember the last time I've looked at myself in the mirror. I've stopped looking since that night in the music room, but of course there have been inevitable instances when reflective surfaces show me what I don't want to see.
Long blonde hair that's more wavy than curly. Eyes the color of smoke. And a face that's supposedly nicer than nice, but every time I look at it, all I can see is an endless stream of ugly memories staring back at me.
Just like how it does now...even though Nia also happens to be right.
I do look awful. And paler than usual, too.
"Well?" Nia's lilac gaze meets mine through the mirror.
"Lack of sleep, that's all. I've still loads to catch up on." I toss the mirror back to Nia, and she catches it easily with one hand.
"I keep forgetting you came here two weeks late," Nia admits. "Do you need help with anything?"
"Not just yet," I assure her. "But we'll see after prelims." I'm about to look away when I still notice Nia gazing at me. "What?"
"I've always wanted to ask you this," my roommate begins, "but I totally understand—-"
I've heard those words so many times before that I'm already nodding before Nia's finished speaking. "You want to know about that night."
"I'm sure you hated how the whole thing turned your life into a circus show," the other girl admits somewhat guiltily, "but we all found the whole thing fascinating in an appallingly ludicrous way."
Her choice of words catch my attention, and I swing my legs off the nook so I can face her fully. "Which part did you find appallingly ludicrous?" I ask with genuine interest. "The detectives who interviewed me were publicity-chasing assholes, but I've always thought the judge that handled my case did a good job—-" I break off at Nia's pained expression. "I'm guessing you beg to differ?"
"O ye of little knowledge." My roommate's tone is chiding as she shakes her head at me. "None of them did a good job, Hales."
"Everyone wanted me burning at the stake at the time," I remind her, "but the judge still declared I was innocent—-"
"Because of lack of evidence," Nia retorts with disdain, "when actually...there was plenty of evidence in your favor. They just didn't know what to look for."
I open my mouth to argue, but Nia quickly raises her hand, saying, "Just hear me out first. Have you never wondered why no one here even seems to care you were accused of mass murder?"
My face must've given something away because I see her expression subsequently turning triumphant. "You have, haven't you? And you know why that is?"
I'm about to tell her it's probably because everyone here has a wonky moral compass, but I don't get a chance since Nia's already talking.
"I've lived in Vermont my entire life, and although it's not really common knowledge, everyone in this state is used to living with gods among us. We can sniff out divine interference even from miles away, and your case? The whole thing stank of divine manipulation."
The other girl sounds so convinced she has me reluctantly looking back at that night and all the other horrific events that followed it. Gaslighting, doxxing, trolling - I've experienced every kind of online bullying there is, but what still hurts me to this day is remembering how my parents also suffered through no fault of their own.
A movement from Nia makes me look up, and I see my roommate now pacing back and forth, a pensive expression on her face. "Your case was like our favorite reality show here, and there were just so many things that were plain as day to us here that neither your lawyer nor the prosecution even cared to bring up. Like that girl who denied inviting you to her house in the first place - what if she wasn't really lying? Why did no one consider getting a blood sample to see if she has any traces of Lethe in her system? And what about the other girl? The one you pissed off because you dared to stand up to her? Why hasn't anyone thought of checking her background for divine connections? And then there were the victims! Why did no one even bother to ask how someone like you—-"
The words feel like an insult somehow, but with Nia sounding so riled, I decide to just let it go.
"—-could be capable of luring all of those people to one place and kill all of them at the same time and in the exact same way? I can just go on forever here, but..." The other girl throws her hands up in seeming disgust. "You get it now, right? How completely out of depth everyone in your city was to handle your case?"
Nia looks at me expectantly, but at that moment I'm unable to even manage a nod. Everything she said makes perfect sense, and I feel like kicking myself in the head for being so blindly and stubbornly divine-wary that I failed to even consider someone even part god could've been behind the whole thing.
"Dude? Are you okay?"
I raise my head and tell her bluntly: "No."
Nia grabs a lock of her pink hair and starts chewing on its ends. A moment later, she exclaims excitedly, "I have an idea!"
The other girl's eyes are sparkling, and I'm wary all at once. "Whatever it is—-"
"Let's temporarily forget everything and grab a drink in town!"
"—-the answer is no."
But Nia doesn't even seem to hear me as she quickly curls an arm around mine and pulls me to my feet. "It's going to be fun," she promises.
I look at her sourly. "It's not."
And yet somehow, I still end up joining Nia in the backseat as we take a cab to town.
"You'll like this place," my roommate promises.
"No," I say dourly. "I won't."
"Stop being such a sourpuss," Nia scolds, "and just enjoy yourself."
Nia pays our cab driver when we reach the so-called hottest club in town, and I can't help but tug repeatedly at the hem of my dress as soon as we step out. The dress Nia insists on lending me is a classic LBD, but it's also too damn short I feel like I've already half of my ass exposed...while the other half is just waiting to reveal itself as soon as I trip on Nia's four-inch heels.
The crowd inside is wild, the music upbeat, and it takes a bit of shouting before one of the staff finally understands our request for a private table. A couple of guys tries hitting on us as soon as we're seated, but Nia easily gets rid of them with just a few choice words.
One of the servers comes back to us with the bucket of bottled beer that Nia's ordered, and I eye her suspiciously as she expertly uncaps the first two. "Are you planning to get me drunk?"
My roommate flashes a sheepish smile. "Obviously."
"Nia!"
"I just feel guilty, okay?" Nia's tone is defensive. "I've always wanted to talk to you about your case, but there never seemed to be a right time, but now that I did, I feel bad for making you relive that part of your life all over again."
"I'm the one who should be feeling guilty," I admit with a grimace. "Everything you brought up made perfect sense, and considering my biological parents' death are fated, I should've been the first one to at least consider the possibility of divine involvement. If I had, then maybe I could've spared my parents from everything they've suffered because of me."
"I'm sorry, Hales." She looks at me hesitantly. "Are you planning to do anything?"
"Should I plan to do anything? The divine's involved."
"But don't you want to clear your name—-"
"Not if it means causing my parents to suffer all over again," I say shortly.
"I didn't consider that," Nia confesses. "I guess...wait. What about your god? Can't you ask—-" Nia's voice trails off when she notices me flinching. "What is it?"
"We're...not on good terms anymore."
Her eyes widen. "But it's only been days, right? How did you two fall out so quickly?"
I make myself shrug, saying tonelessly, "It just happened, I guess."
"I can't believe he's been the reason you've been moping
the entire week."
"I've not been moping—-"
Nia thrusts a bottle towards me, and when my fingers involuntarily wrap around its glass body, the other girl flashes a smile at my direction. "Cheers!" She clicks her bottle with mine, and I watch in amazement as Nia chugs down an impressive amount of alcohol on her first swig.
Once done, the other girl gestures to my bottle, saying, "Your turn."
I cautiously take a sip...and promptly cough and choke on it.
Nia rolls her eyes. "Stop being such a baby—-"
"It's not my fault it tastes awful—-"
"Give it another try," the other girl urges.
And so it goes until Nia does end up having her way, and three bottles have done its job in effectively loosening my tongue and freeing my mind from any worries and concerns.
"My god no longer wants me," I hear myself confess sadly, and a voice inside my head orders me right away to shut up.
And I would have listened to it except...
There's also this louder voice telling me to just do what I want.
So of course I listen to the latter, and when Nia lets out a gasp, I bob my head in emphatic assent. "I last saw him in a dream, and then poof!" I make my fingers curl and uncurl in a childish gesture of magic. "He's gone."
"What about the professor?" Nia asks. "Don't you like him, too?"
"The professor's beautiful," I acknowledge seriously, "but I always knew from the start I can't trust him."
"I wouldn't know about that," Nia says thoughtfully. "I've never seen him act the way he does with you with any other woman, human or not."
"I don't like the look in the professor's eyes," I confide in a whisper. "It's too cold."
"And the eyes of your god aren't?"
A forlorn sigh escapes me. "I wouldn't know. I've never seen my god's face."
Nia sputters in shock. "Excuse me?"
I nod emphatically once again, but this time the whole club seems to bob up and down as well, and it's amazing. Who knew being drunk could turn everything so magical? If I shake my head, would the club also—-
"Hales!"
Nia snaps her fingers in my face, and I blink at her. "What?"
"Have you really never seen your god—-"
I shake my head, and ooooooh, it's exactly what I thought. The whole club also starts moving left and right, too!
