“You do slobber less than Hippo at least, I’ll give you that,” Selene admitted, allowing the hint of a smile.
“And most of the time, I smell better, too,” Theo said. “Although I clearly possess the personal hygiene of a college freshman, because this sweatshirt reeks. But speaking of Hippo, we can’t keep her with us.”
The smile fled Selene’s face. “Why not?”
“Now that our flying attacker got a look at her, Hippo’s a target. And together, you guys make an unmistakable pair. We, at least, can wear disguises if we have to.” He eyed the massive mutt skeptically. “Hippo wouldn’t make a particularly convincing dachshund. A bear, maybe, but that would present its own difficulties. Besides, we can’t bring her on the subway.”
“The subway? Where are we going exactly?”
“To find your twin.” Before she could protest, he barreled on. “We need help, Selene! You’re wounded, homeless, and being chased by a dude with wings on his head! This is exactly why people have families—to protect them from crap like that.”
“Yes, but my family—”
“I know, I know, it may be composed of homicidal lunatics. And sure, there’s a slim chance that Paul may be part of this plot. But last time you misjudged your twin, remember? At least give him a chance. And if I’m wrong, and he pulls out his silver bow in the middle of his rock concert, then—god or not—I’ll kill him with my own two hands.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Okay, let me rephrase that. I’ll attempt to kill him with my own two hands, and while I’m distracting your nearly immortal brother with my feeble mortal attempts, you’ll swoop in and take him down with a well-placed arrow to the throat.”
“Sounds more like it.”
Theo laughed shortly. Selene did not.
Chapter 10
LADY OF HOUNDS
After walking fifty blocks through the Amtrak tunnel that paralleled the Hudson River, Theo and Selene emerged at Penn Station and made their way aboveground.
Theo cast an eye to the night sky. No sign of aerial pursuit. At least not yet. Maybe even evil cult initiates had to sleep sometime. Still, they hurried along the sidewalk toward their rendezvous, eager to avoid exposure for long.
They stopped at an all-night bodega to pick up a knit hat to cover the rough bandages on Selene’s head, then met Ruth Willever beneath the wide awning for the Thirty-fourth Street movie theater, where they hoped any airborne attacker wouldn’t see them.
Ruth and Theo had been friends for the past two years. They’d met when Theo was dating Helen Emerson, Ruth’s roommate. The ensuing difficulties—first Helen dumping Theo, then getting murdered by Orion’s cult—had only brought them closer together.
Ruth stood with her hands tucked under her elbows for warmth, her already narrow shoulders hunched even further with the cold. Feathers poked from the seams of her down coat. The brown hair falling from beneath the earflaps of her flannel hat was more rat’s nest than ponytail, and the bags under her eyes proved Theo’s desperate phone call had woken her from a deep sleep. But she grinned when she saw him.
She got down on one knee in front of Hippo, took off a woolen mitten, and let the dog sniff her fingers before clasping her in a hug. Theo raised a brow to Selene. See? Hippo’s going to be in good hands.
Ruth stood, her eyes moving to the woman at Theo’s side, and her smile vanished. The knit hat had ridden up, revealing a sliver of bloody bandage across Selene’s forehead. She yanked the hat lower, her steady gaze daring Ruth to comment.
Ruth looked at Theo next, taking in his unzipped sweatshirt and bare chest with widening eyes. “What happened?”
“Water main break at Selene’s house. And some roofing problems with all the snow and ice. Just general falling apart, really. Place is so dangerous we had to run off before I could grab a coat.”
“Here—” Ruth began, shrugging out of her parka.
“No, no! I’m fine,” he assured her. “We’ve got contractors looking at it. Predawn contractors. And my apartment’s getting fumigated, so we’re spending the night at a hotel.” He was too tired to lie convincingly.
He could tell Ruth wasn’t buying it—as a research scientist, she knew contradictory evidence when she saw it—but she was too polite to pry. “Sure.” She looked questioningly at Selene, clearly wondering just how rich Theo’s new brownstone-owning girlfriend really was.
One more reason to be grateful Gabriela’s not here, Theo thought. She’d never let me get away with this. A hotel? With lodging prices astronomical for the Christmas holiday and a dozen friends in the city who would put us up for free? Jesus.
“And, Ruth?” he pressed. “You won’t mention to anyone that you saw us, will you? Just in case, you know, someone asks?”
“I don’t suppose you can tell me why all the secrecy?” she asked, with a curious smile at them both.
Selene didn’t smile back. “’Fraid not. Hence the secrecy part.”
“We’re having a little romantic getaway,” Theo interposed. “And it’d be better if no one comes to bug us.”
“Um. Okay.” She looked at Selene again, obviously confused by the “romantic” part, since Theo’s girlfriend had dropped his hand, crossed her arms, and turned to glare at him.
“But you’re doing us a huge favor by taking Hippo,” Theo went on breezily. “I would’ve called Gabriela, but she’s as distrustful of dogs as she is allergic to them. So, thank you.” Theo nudged Selene in the ribs.
“Yes. Thanks.” She didn’t sound the least bit grateful.
“Is there anything I should know?” Ruth asked. “Like medications? Or the vet’s number? Or what kind of dog food she likes?”
Selene looked like she might choke.
“Hippo eats meat, not dog food,” Theo said quickly. “Beef, pork, anything. Right, Selene?”
Selene nodded stonily.
“And don’t worry, this won’t be for long. Just until we can get back into the house. Go on, Selene,” Theo urged. “Give Ruth the leash.”
Selene breathed deeply, narrowed her eyes, and spoke with the voice of a goddess commanding a mortal. As far as Theo knew, the voice didn’t really work, but that didn’t stop her from trying. “You will protect this dog with your life,” she intoned, still holding on to the leash. Hippo’s ears perked up, and she looked at her mistress as if she understood every word. Ruth just looked alarmed. “She is my companion. She must not be harmed.”
The Lady of Hounds got down on one knee before her friend and took her muzzle in her hands. She didn’t speak to Hippo, but just looked into her eyes. Theo had no doubt that some deep understanding passed between them. She couldn’t speak telepathically to dogs, but through a combination of posture, eye contact, and the occasional growl, she had an uncanny way of expressing her will to them. And if they knew what was good for them, they listened. Hippo held her stare. Then licked her under the chin.
Ruth chuckled, but shut up when Selene raised steely eyes to her. Not bothering to wipe away the dog drool, Selene stood, handed the leash to Ruth, and walked toward the downtown subway entrance without another word. Hippo made the smallest of movements as if to follow, then froze as she remembered her mistress’s unspoken command. She gave a faint whimper, tucked her tail between her legs, and began to pant in agitation.
Selene paused at the top of the subway stairs, just out of Theo’s sight. Eavesdropping’s not polite, she thought, but is it my fault if I have preternatural hearing? I’m just standing here waiting. She crept back up a stair and peered through the railing so she could see him.
He smiled ruefully at his friend. “Sorry about that. Selene’s had a rough night. We’ve had a rough night.”
“You know, don’t you,” Ruth said hesitantly, “that I’d do anything to help? If you’re in trouble. Or something.” Clearly, Theo’s halfhearted fabrications hadn’t fooled her for a second.
“Me? In trouble?” Theo raised his arms in a muscle man pose. “You think some
one’s gonna mess with these photon torpedoes?”
Ruth laughed, louder and longer than Selene would’ve thought her capable. She’d always seemed mousy, but her smile lit up her face with a sweet charm.
Theo grinned back at her—looking more at ease than he had all night. He liked making people happy. Liked being liked. Someone like Ruth would make him feel good about himself all the time, Selene thought with a heavy heart. She even understands whatever arcane pop culture reference he just made.
Ruth took a step closer to him. “But seriously, if you need me …”
Selene tensed. Theo might be oblivious, but she’d known since the first time she’d met Ruth that the woman was a little bit in love with him. She was staring up at him with big doe eyes, but he just gave her a quick hug and patted her soundly on the back. Like a friend, Selene decided.
“Thanks,” he said. “You’re amazing. Really. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He let her go. Selene wondered if he noticed the red flush on Ruth’s cheeks. “I promise I’ll make this up to you. I’ll fish-sit for you on your next vacation.”
Ruth laughed again, her cheeks turning even brighter. Selene decided enough was enough. She padded down the stairs, fishing in her jacket pocket for her MetroCard. On the platform, she leaned against a steel pillar, impatient for Theo to arrive before they missed the next train. Whatever challenges lie ahead in our relationship, she thought grimly, are nothing compared to what I’m about to face when I meet my twin.
Selene and Theo had three months of relationship angst to navigate.
Artemis and Apollo had three millennia.
Chapter 11
LEADER OF THE MUSES
“She’s his sister,” Theo explained to the bouncer at the Bowery Ballroom stage door for the third time. “Just tell him we’re here, and he’ll let us in.”
The dour man with the pencil-thin beard crossed his melon-thick arms. “Mr. Solson is performing. Onstage. Right now. What do you not understand? Either you’re on the backstage pass list, or you’re not. Do you want me to interrupt him in the middle of a song to ask him if he wants me to let in a bleeding chick and a half-dressed man?”
Theo noticed Selene’s balled hands and knew it wouldn’t be long before she knocked the bouncer senseless. But he also knew the man had a point. Their trek through the train tunnels had left them coated in a thin layer of soot, and the combination of his own coatless state and the blood-soaked bandages peeking from beneath Selene’s hat made them look more like half-crazed disaster refugees than the long-lost relatives of one of the city’s most popular indie rock stars.
“Let me handle this,” Theo said softly.
“Selene?” A young woman peered past the bouncer, her eyes round. “You’re Paul’s sister, right? Dickie, let her in! My goodness, you poor thing!”
And just like that they were past the ropes, following a wisp of a woman into the club’s cramped back hallway. She waved down a passing roadie and asked him to bring a first aid kit, then turned back to Selene, nearly shouting to be heard over the acoustic folk rock blasting through the walls. “I’m Sophie. I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Paul’s girlfriend.”
“I need to speak to my brother immediately.”
“He’s in the middle of—”
Before Sophie could finish, Selene was striding down the hallway toward the stage entrance.
Theo held up a placating hand to Sophie. “I’ll get her, don’t worry. It’s been a rough night.” And it’s about to be very a rough day. Dawn had just begun to lighten the sky. In keeping with his God of the Sun persona, Paul’s concerts coincided with the sunrise. His rabid fan base didn’t seem to mind. Theo, on the other hand, could barely stand upright.
When he caught up to Selene, she was standing in the wings with her hands over her ears, ignoring the stage manager’s angry threats. To Theo’s relief, Sophie appeared shortly afterward to pull the man away, assuring him Selene posed no danger to the musicians onstage.
I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Theo thought, noticing the fury in her eyes. He had a nagging suspicion she might leap onstage and drag her brother off in the middle of the chorus.
Sophie tapped Selene on the arm and stood on her tiptoes to yell into her ear, “Two more songs and then a set break.” Theo felt like he could blow the young woman over with a well-aimed sneeze. With her shabby chic clothes, stick-thin arms, and heavily made-up eyes, she looked like a Victorian urchin. Selene just nodded curtly, not even deigning to make eye contact with her.
Paul Solson, the God of Music, Poetry, Prophecy, Plague, Healing, and the Sun, stood in a spotlight playing a gleaming acoustic guitar, singing his face off to a crowd of adoring fans. As always, he wore his golden curls long, just brushing his shoulders. He’d dyed the white streak in his hair that mirrored the one in Selene’s—now there was nothing about him to indicate he was any older than his mid-twenties.
He’d gathered the front of his curls into a topknot. To the audience, it probably seemed a perfectly practical, if somewhat eccentric, hairdo for a sweaty, hardworking hipster, but Theo recognized it as a style worn by Roman maidens and often used in statues of Apollo to represent the god’s indeterminate sexuality.
Even without the hair, there was something almost womanly about him. He stood as tall as Selene, but while her flesh was marble and her lean muscles perennially taut, a certain softness overlay Paul’s frame. His skin was tawny honey, his movements as languorous, and Theo could almost taste the sweetness of the God of Music’s voice on his own tongue. The rest of the band panted, their faces unnaturally flushed, but Paul performed effortlessly. Theo had the distinct impression his voice would reach the back of the club even without the microphone, every note tugging at the heartstrings of his fans, who listened raptly as if to the revelation of a god.
“How long’s the set been?” he asked Sophie.
“Two hours straight,” she replied. “The rest of the band’s about to drop, but Paul never gets tired.” She sighed with adoration. “There’s no one like him.”
So either he’s still supernatural, or he’s high on cocaine.
The song ended to a roar of approval from the crowd. Selene lowered her hands from her ears, ready to spring forward.
As if sensing her distress, Paul suddenly glanced toward the wings. His eyes grew wide; the instantaneous communication between the twins hummed. Even Theo’s mortal senses perceived it. If this is what it looks like when they don’t know each other anymore, what must it have been like before their estrangement? he wondered. For a moment, he could picture them, side by side in white tunics, gleaming bows drawn, hunting their enemies across the hills of Attica.
Paul turned back to the crowd. “One more before we take a break. This one’s dedicated to the first girl I ever loved.”
At that, Selene grunted and put her hands over her ears once more. Sophie turned a distinct shade of pink and wandered over to the edge of the proscenium so she could be as close to her boyfriend as possible. Theo wondered what lies Paul had told her. Could she really believe she was the first woman he’d given his heart to? Even if she didn’t know he was a god—and a famously promiscuous one at that—he was a rock musician.
Selene didn’t take her eyes off the singer either. But her gaze was filled with anger, not love.
“Your twin’s really good,” Theo said quietly, knowing she could hear him even over the din. She shot him an annoyed look. He was, after all, stating the obvious. Very gently, he reached for her wrists and urged her to lower her hands. She snarled, but complied.
The drumbeats had slowed to a mournful march, the keyboardist picked out a syncopated roundelay, and Paul strummed his guitar in counterpoint. His voice soared over the room, teasing octave after octave.
Sweet, sweet-voiced Muses,
Sweet-voiced Muses,
Tell me of the long-winged Moon.
She climbs through the sky
With an all-seeing eye,
And the mountain
s shake,
The forests quake
At her bold, bold heart.
Her bold, bold heart.
Theo threaded his hand through Selene’s. He recognized a few of the lyrics—some came from the Homeric hymn to Artemis and others from the hymn to Selene the Moon. But Paul had put a spin on it all his own. He launched into the second verse, clearly an ode to himself borrowed from the hymn to Helios, the Sun.
Sweet, sweet-voiced Muses,
Sweet-voiced Muses,
Tell me of the tireless Sun.
His bright rays beam,
His bright locks stream,
And his stallions rear
When his chariot draws near
To his bold, bold love.
His bold, bold love.
On the chorus, the whole audience joined in, a great wall of sound.
Sun and Moon,
Midnight or noon,
Never together.
Never together.
Apollo, called Phoebus, “Bright One,” was earning his epithet: Paul’s skin seemed to glow as if he were the Sun once more. His eyes shone a luminescent golden-brown while his sister’s glowed faintly silver. Then the band dropped out, the audience fell into a reverent silence, and Paul sang the coda a cappella.
But never say never.
When the mountains shake
And the forests quake,
They’ll dance together.
Their love’s forever.
Their love’s forrrrrrrrrr … eeeeeeeev … UUUCHK!
A gasp from the audience.
Face horror-stricken, Paul raised a hand to his neck as if to throttle his cracked voice. There was a long moment of terrible silence. Finally, wary applause, growing into a halfhearted ovation.
“Bring down the lights,” Sophie hissed to the stage manager. “Get him out of there.”
The other band members stumbled offstage toward the dressing rooms, looking like they might pass out at any moment. Paul walked toward the wings like a man in a dream, his gaze unfocused. Up close, Theo realized Paul’s divine visage was a facade. His golden eyes were veined with red, and sweat had turned his topknot into a limp, wet wad. He handed his guitar to the stage manager as if thrusting away a dangerous animal.
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