Titan: An Epic Novel of Urban Fantasy and Greek Mythology (The Gods War Book 1)

by Daniel Mignault

  Lucy's blue eyes light up. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Andrus. Mark never brings friends home. I was beginning to think he didn't have any.”

  I almost correct her that Mark and I aren't friends, that we barely know each other, but after all we've been through, maybe we are. Even if we aren't, I'd be a jerk to say otherwise. So I smile and say, “Sorry to bother you at this hour.” Which seems like the polite, proper thing to say, the kind of thing I'd be expected to say if I'd gone to one of my neighbor's houses. Only it sounds ridiculous after being chased by centaurs. “Um.” I clear my throat and try again. “I mean, thanks for letting me in. It's kind of dangerous out there.”

  “It's dangerous in here,” their mom mumbles. “Opening the door to strangers…”

  “Mom!” Mark snaps.

  “I didn't say nothing,” she protests. “Nobody listens to me anyway.” She moves away, pretending great interest in picking at the stray threads of her mud-brown, shapeless tunic.

  “Don't mind Mom,” Lucy says, and motions me to the table. “She's like that with strangers.”

  “With family too,” Mark adds glumly.

  I take a seat and Lucy pours me a cup of wine. I try not to gag when I taste it. It's sour and strong, not like the wine my parents serve.

  “You're very brave,” Lucy says, picking up the other cup. “Thank you for bringing Mark home. I don't know what we would have done without you.”

  “Hey,” Mark says. “What makes you think I didn't save him?”

  Lucy smirks. “What did you do, little brother? Hit a monster with one of your books?”

  “Well, no,” Mark says. “Of course not! But I helped Andrus get here, didn't I? That counts.”

  Lucy raises an eyebrow.

  “Fine,” Mark says. “We saved each other! Happy now?”

  She laughs. “Is that what happened, Andrus?”

  I look from her to Mark, then back again. “Yeah. Your brother's braver than you think.”

  “Really?” Lucy takes another sip of wine. “I always knew Mark had courage in him, I just wasn't sure he was going to live long enough to find it.”

  “It takes a lot of guts to do what he does. It's not easy at Axios. The Academy's tough on everyone, but it's even tougher on kids like Mark.”

  Lucy snorts. “I wouldn't know. The priests said I wasn't special enough to go.”

  “I'm sorry.” I want to tell her in a way she's lucky, that just because Mark gets to go to Axios doesn't mean he's going to survive it, but I take another drink of wine instead. How am I going to tell his family that it's my fault we were almost eaten by centaurs? That it's my fault Mark and I are going to compete Monday against Blake and Brenda? And worse, that Mark might not make it home if we don't win?

  But Mark saves me the trouble. “Mom, Lucy,” he says. “There's something else Andrus and I need to tell you. It's about school…”

  9

  WELCOME TO LOSERVILLE

  Later, Mark and I are in his room, which is about as big as my walk-in closet. There isn't even a bed, just a rolled-up sleeping bag and pillow shoved in the corner. He sits at a small desk by the window, digging through a dusty book on monsters.

  I sit on the edge of the desk, peering through the thin gray curtain into the back yard. It's dominated by a dead tree, the branches almost close enough to scratch the glass. This must be the same tree Mark told me about―the one he saw the harpy in. I glance up at the sky, half-expecting to see a legion of harpies dive down, but there's only the moon.

  “Your sister seems nice,” I say. “I mean, she took the news about the rematch well. Better than your mom.”

  Mark mumbles something that sounds like he agrees, but his eyes never leave the book.

  “What are you reading?”

  “Research,” he says, not bothering to look up. “I'm trying to find some mention of that cloud-monster. Just because it saved us doesn't mean it's friendly. What if it did something more than take our scents?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Not all monsters feed on flesh and blood. Some of them eat memories and some eat souls.”

  I shiver, remembering Captain Nessus saying he was going to pull Mark's name from my memories after eating my brain. “I think we're fine. I don't feel soul-less and my memory seems OK.”

  “Me too. But I've never heard of a monster that eats scents, which is what's making me nervous.” He stops to sniff his armpit. “I think mine's starting to come back. You should check yours.”

  I make a face.

  “Seriously?” Mark says. “After all we've been through, that's where you draw the line?”

  Feeling dumb, I raise my arm and take a whiff. It's faint, but it's there. “Mine's coming back too. Maybe the cloud was some kind of magical deodorant.”

  “It was more than that,” Marks says. “The cloud acted on us in different ways. It didn't take on my scent; it absorbed it, made it disappear. But with you, it used your scent to lead the centaurs away.”

  I get up from the desk and lean against the wall. “And that matters why?”

  “Because we don't know why she did what she did. Was she helping us, or was she helping herself? That's the age-old question, isn't it?”

  “I guess.”

  “Fine, let's drop that line for now. Do you remember anything else about tonight?”

  “Yeah, man! Ravens. A whole flock of them attacked the centaurs. That's how I got away. And I heard a girl's voice in my head telling me to run.”

  “That must be the same voice I heard telling me to get out of the dumpster.”

  “You know what? Those weren't the only ravens I saw today. There was one watching us from a streetlight after we left the gym. And then there's that girl, the one I saw earlier in the bushes, and at the accident.”

  Mark snaps his fingers and points at me. “Good thinking! If that girl is the same one we heard in our heads, then she's not a monster.”

  “Right! Because both times I saw her, she was in daylight.”

  “Exactly.” Mark puts the monster book away and pulls out one on magic. “That means the ravens, the cloud, and the girl are all related. She must be some kind of witch or something. They're rare, but they do exist. Or maybe she's just a girl who found magic items left over from the Gods War. They warned us about that in priest class.”

  “You mean like Zeus's lightning bolts?”

  Mark nods. “Or Poseidon's trident, or the golden swords of Ares. But I'm thinking something less flashy, something more along the lines of Hermes's winged slippers, since she's using it to move around. Some kind of transportation magic.”

  “What about the ravens?”

  “That could be part of it,” Mark says, “or something completely different. But these are all guesses. That's the problem with magic: there are too many unknowns. Let me do some more research and see what I can find out.”

  I leave Mark and head back to the living room. Drunken snoring comes from his mom's bedroom, but Lucy is camped out on the living room floor in a sleeping bag.

  “Sorry,” I say. “I didn't know anyone would be in here.”

  Lucy sits up. There's a butcher knife in her hand. She grins and sets it aside. “It's OK. I was keeping watch.”

  “What for?”

  She looks at me like I'm stupid. “For burglars.”

  “Burglars?”

  She sighs. “You're really not from around here, are you?”

  “No,” I admit. “Don't the monsters keep the burglars off the street at night?”

  “Some of them, sure. But monsters also keep people from paying attention to what's going on outside, and they damn sure keep people from coming to help if burglars do break in.” She gets up and we both sit at the table. Frankly, I'm not sure what burglars would want to steal from this shack, but I guess desperate people do desperate things.

  Lucy picks up the bottle. “More wine?” she asks.

  I hold out my cup, but as I do, there's a high, feminine scream from som
ewhere outside. Somewhere not too far away. I jump a little, but Lucy doesn't flinch, doesn't even look over her shoulder toward the sound, and her hand stays steady as she pours.

  “Screams are pretty common after dark,” she says. “During the day too. It's not like we can trust the warriors much more than the monsters to keep us safe. Day Patrol or Night Patrol, it's all the same.”

  “But aren't you worried that scream could mean monsters are coming here?”

  She shrugs. “Not really. It means they probably aren't coming here because they're busy with whoever made that noise.”

  “So screams make you feel safer?”

  “Usually. Unless those screams are coming from the other side of the door, or one of our windows. Then I get scared, because if that person were to break into our house, the monsters would follow.”

  “But I thought they can't enter homes.”

  “Not normally. Only if you break the law, or if they're pursuing someone who has.”

  “But why should you worry? If the monsters are only after the lawbreaker, they can't hurt you.”

  Lucy shakes her head. “That's where you're wrong, Rich-O. The monsters will attack everyone inside, claiming we allowed the criminal in. That we're harboring a fugitive.”

  I remember how Nessus lied about not seeing my amulet, how he was going to eat my brain and get the information he needed. Totally illegal, but who was going to dispute his word? Certainly not me without my brain.

  I take a sip of wine, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. It doesn't taste as bad as before, though I'd hate to think I was getting used to it. “So, um, your mother mentioned not wanting to lose another child…”

  Lucy looks down at her cup. “We―we're not supposed to talk about that.”

  “I'm sorry,” I say, realizing that's the third time I've apologized to her in the past hour. “I didn't mean to upset you.”

  “You didn't know.” She drains her cup, then pours another for her and me. “It's OK, Andrus. Mom's asleep. I can tell you.”

  “Not if you don't want to. It's just I've never met anyone who's lost someone before. Where I come from―well, I kind of live a sheltered life, you know?”

  “Really?” Lucy mocks. “I never would have guessed. Welcome to Loserville.” She raises her cup in a toast.

  “Hey, it's not like that. I'm not looking down on you. I'm not some jerk slumming for thrills. I want to understand.”

  She sets her cup down, a troubled look on her face. “I'm sorry. I'm being a bad hostess, but frankly, I'm not sure you can understand, and even if you can, I don't know what difference it makes. You'll go back to your palace―”

  “House,” I correct her.

  “Call it what you want. But after tonight, you'll go back there and tell your Rich-O family and your Rich-O friends all about your little adventure in Loserville, and they'll all laugh and make rude comments. Maybe you'll laugh with them, or maybe you won't. Maybe you'll even feel bad or tell them to shut up. But it won't matter, Andrus. It won't change things for my family, for anyone I know. Things will just keep on going the way they always have. The screams will be just as loud, just as many, only you won't be able to hear them in your castle, and eventually, you'll forget.”

  I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything. I reach out and place my hand over hers. She doesn't try to take her hand away. She just stares at me, and I stare at her, wanting to take her pain away.

  Lucy wets her lips, swallowing nervously. “Andrus, I don't think this is a good idea―”

  I lean in, never taking my eyes from hers. Her breath quickens. Her lips part, just a little, and mine do the same. And then we're pressing them together, lightly at first, then harder, our hands snaking out, winding through each other's hair, urgent with need.

  Lucy finally pulls away, the soft pant of her breath making her breasts rise and fall beneath her pink tunic. “Andrus,” she whispers. “That was wrong.” I start to apologize, but she waves it away. “No, it's just as much my fault as yours. I wanted you to kiss me. I wanted… ”

  “What?” I take her hands in mine.

  She laughs ruefully. “I don't know. To feel special, I guess—to know I was just as desirable as any Academy girl. But more than that, to feel I had a chance to escape this life. To have a shot at something more, like my brother.”

  “You do,” I say. “I mean, you can.”

  “No,” she says. “Not that way. I'm not going to sleep my way out of Loserville. I know too many girls who've tried, and they just end up right back where they started, or worse, with a baby in their belly or working the streets.”

  “That's not what I meant,” I begin, then try again. “I wouldn't do that to you.”

  “Maybe not, but your parents would. They'd buy me off, or have me killed, or enslaved, or eaten by monsters, even sacrificed. They won't let their son be with a Loser. You know that.”

  I know my parents, and I know she's right. “OK, but what if I could get you to take the test again? Get you into the Academy?”

  “That won't work.”

  “Why not? Mark and I can help you study. It's hard, but it's not that hard.”

  Lucy takes her hands from mine and reaches for more wine. “I know that! I'm not stupid. I'm just as smart as Mark, maybe smarter.”

  “Then why didn't you get in?”

  She purses her lips, almost like the words are too painful. “I did,” she says. “I mean, I passed, but the priest said there was one more test, one he wanted to give me in private…”

  It takes me a second to get it, but then I say, “Oh.”

  Lucy nods. “I refused, of course. So then the priest told me not only was I not getting a scholarship, but neither was Mark.” She pauses to knock back her wine, then glares at the table. “So I slept with him. I'm not proud of it, but I made that sacrifice for my brother.”

  I reach out to comfort her, but she pulls away.

  “Mark doesn't know,” she says. “And he never will. You can't tell him. It would break his heart, and he'd do something crazy to that priest, and then I'd have done what I did for nothing. Promise me you won't tell him.”

  “I won't.”

  “Good. I don't know why I told you. I never told anybody, not even my mom.” She reaches for the wine again, but I move the bottle out of her reach.

  “You don't need more wine.”

  Lucy gives me an angry look, then slumps back in her chair as if the effort is too much. “It's all I have! It dulls the pain.”

  “Like it does for your mom?” I don't mean it like an accusation, but she stands up and walks to the window, keeping her back to me.

  I go to her, putting my hands on her shoulders. I expect her to tense, but she relaxes into them instead. “You think I don't know that?” she says. “You think I want to be like her? I don't have a choice.”

  “We all have a choice. I haven't known you very long, but I know you're better than this. Stronger. I know you can make something of yourself.”

  “And how do you know that?” She says it without much fight, and I can sense she's on the verge of tears.

  “Because you already have. You saved your brother before, and you saved him again tonight. And me.”

  “I'm no hero,” she says. “I just did what I had to do.”

  “I've been thinking maybe being a hero isn't about saving the world. Maybe it's about the small stuff, saving one person at a time. Including yourself.”

  Lucy turns around, coming into my arms. Her eyes are wet, her lips trembling. And we kiss. There's heat in it, passion, but like everything else today, it's crazy. We let it linger, knowing that once it ends, we're going to be right back where we started. And that's not a place either of us is eager to get back to.

  When it's over, Lucy says, “That was nice, but it doesn't have to mean anything.”

  I hold her tight, loving the soft warmth of her melting against me. “The truth is, I've never really felt connected to anyone before. Don't laugh, but I
've always felt more connected to things. Well, rocks mostly.”

  “Rocks?” She frowns, unsure if I'm joking.

  I clear my throat. “You know: stones, gems, geodes. I collect them. I even dream about them, about going into caves or climbing mountains. Ever since I can remember… especially Mount Olympus.”

  “Really? Even your dreams are rich! I only dream about getting out of Loserville.”

  “You will.”

  She sighs. “We should probably get some rest.”

  I look down at her sleeping bag. “Um, sure. Do you have an extra one of those or should we just…” I let the words trail off on purpose.

  Lucy grins, but points at Mark's room. “You can sleep in there. And try to dream of something other than rocks for once.”

  “Like what?”

  Her grin widens. “Like me.”

  It's a nice thought, but it doesn't happen. Instead, I dream of scaling snow-swept mountains. Alone, as always. The rocks are solid beneath my fingertips, comforting.

  They don't change, like people.

  They don't change, like me.

  10

  CHANGED

  I'm up early the next morning. I don't stay for breakfast because I don't want things to get awkward with Lucy, plus I know my parents will be worried. I want to get home fast. Which means another trip across town, but at least now there won't be any centaurs in my way. Still, it's going to waste a lot of time―time Mark and I could be training.

  My parents told me that before the Gods War, everyone had these things called “phones” that they could use to talk to each other from miles away. Unfortunately, the stuff that made them work got destroyed in the war, and the Titans didn't think such things were worth rebuilding. I guess since Titans can magically appear anywhere they want or talk to people in their minds, the idea of phones seems pretty dumb.

  Their mom is still asleep, so I say my goodbyes to Mark and Lucy. I tell Mark to meet me at the Harryhausen gym at noon. There's a moment's weirdness as I thank Lucy, one where we're not sure whether to hug or what, so we just sort of smile stupidly at each other and hope Mark doesn't notice.