Rogues_Supers of Project 12_Reverse Harem

by Angel Lawson

  “Thank you.”

  “What do you think they’re like?” she asks, kneading my shoulders.

  “Who?” I know who she’s asking about. We’ve discussed it over and over.

  “Men or even just a man.”

  “How would I know? I’ve never seen one.” Although this isn’t exactly true. Not a lie either. I’ve seen one in my dreams. My brother. He’s a man now just as I am a woman.

  “Aceso says they smell. And they have wide noses. Their arms are big.” She flexes her tiny bicep. I make one and it’s not much bigger but at least a small mountain of muscle appears. We laugh.

  “I think they’re not worth thinking about. You know they don’t consider us.”

  “What if they do?” she asks quietly. “Your father sent you here. He created this place for you to be safe. He must think about you.”

  “Or he wanted me out of the way so he can continue his patriarchy over the world without the embarrassment of a daughter.” I swim away from Victoria. Climbing out of the water, my hair dripping wet.

  Once we’re both lying on the grass to dry off, I feel her fingertips on my hip. I wince from the pain. “I fell. Chasing the buck. I’m sure the bruise will be worse tomorrow.”

  “There’s salve in the pantry.” She looks up at the stars. “I didn’t mean to bring him up. Zeus. I know talking about your father is painful.”

  I nod and say nothing. What is there to say? He tore me from my mother. My brother—a twin. He sent me to this place to be raised in freedom away from the dark, seedy politics of the world outside. It seems like a kind thing to do—except the hole it left in my soul hurts like hell.

  It’s almost dark when we dress and head back to the hidden encampment. We cross the wards that keep our home safe from outsiders and find the rest of the group sitting by the fire, eating dinner. I grab my bowl and take a large scoop from the pot. The venison smells delicious. I offer Iris a smile as I take my usual seat.

  A throat clears a few feet away and I brace myself. I’d hoped maybe we’d lingered long enough at the falls to miss Empanada’s nightly blessing. Not so lucky it seems and Victoria smiles sympathetically at me from across the fire.

  Empanada takes a deep breath and begins. “We take a moment to thank our creator and protector, Zeus for providing us with a safe home, dense woods and capable women in our community. We’re lucky to have this safe haven from the politics and war of the outside world. Where the goddesses are treated as inferior and the gods dictate our moves. Here we are free to roam, live and survive as equals.”

  The firelight flickers, crackling and snapping with roaring heat. Empanada’s eyes skim over me and my skin blisters. She’s, like everyone else, is aware of my lineage and the myths that swirl around my inclusion in this community. Even if Zeus was trying to protect me it still hurts to be pushed aside while my brother was accepted. Each woman is my sworn protector, dictated to keep me safe—even if I am the strongest and do not need their protection.

  They need me.

  That thought becomes truth when a twig snaps in the woods beyond the clearing. I hear the break, followed by a heavy footstep. Human not beast. I count the faces around the fire. Everyone is here which means whoever is out there isn’t one of us.

  I’m up and standing on my seat in a heartbeat, bow out and arrow nocked. Most of the women around me scatter although a few warriors move into position. I stretch my elbow back just as a shadow moves in the distance. I release the arrow, aimed true at the heart of the trespasser.

  Thwick

  I relax, knowing the point met its mark when I hear the sound of impact. Stepping forward I move to the edge of the clearing to see who got past the wards and dared approach our encampment.

  I expect a body.

  I find a man. Upright and walking toward me with the arrow tight in his fist.

  “I’m looking for Artemis, daughter of Zeus and Leto.”

  Without thinking I nock another arrow and say, “You’ve found her.”

  His face comes into the firelight and I freeze, fully aware that this is no mortal. I’m spinning this over in my head when he declares, “Then I regret to inform you that your brother, Apollo, is dead.”

  Chapter 2

  My bow doesn’t waiver. It’s still trained on the man’s throat, but his words echo in my ears. “What did you say?”

  “Apollo is dead.” His eyes soften. “I’m sorry.”

  I become aware of the others behind me. The warriors and fellow encampment dwellers alike. I lower my bow and say to him, “You can’t be here. It’s forbidden.” Then I tilt my head in question. “How did you pass through the wards?”

  “I came here as a messenger of Zeus.” Ah, my father could crash through any magic he wished. He looks at the weapons still aimed at him. “I mean no harm, but I do have to speak to you further. Privately.”

  Curiosity along with the numbness of hearing the news about Apollo makes me careless. “I’ll meet you near the willow tree east of the ridge.”

  He nods and vanishes back in the woods. Two of my fellow hunters silently follow him. I let them go. There could be more. This may not be as it seems.

  I glance at Victoria who looks pale in the firelight. I offer her a tight smile while knowing our world has been irrevocably changed. I secure my bow on my back, the quiver in a leather sheath.

  “I’ll be back,” I say to my friend.

  “You can’t go alone. Take Danielle. She’s our second best shot.”

  I’m the first.

  I know I have to do this alone. That world, the one of gods and society and my father and brother is separate from this one. I won’t allow them to cross. I felt it in the eclipse that day. A light was snuffed. I have no doubt what this man says is true.

  “Danielle,” I call and the curvy woman appears by my side. She carries a blade as well as her bow. “Arm everyone. Get the children inside. You’re in charge.”

  She nods. “I’ll protect them.

  “I know you will.

  Victoria gives me a nasty look for subverting her idea. It doesn’t stop her from saying, “Be careful.”

  “You too.”

  I disappear into the dark. The woods are a sanctuary. I’ve spent countless hours combing the forest each day. It’s how I learned to hunt. To kill. I’m happier with my hands dirty, climbing trees or chasing animals, but something has always told me that my survival skills come as a gift from my father.

  The moon lights my path and just before I reach the willow tree I pause and assess the messenger. The male. It’s not a fabrication that I’ve never seen one. I’ve never had the interest. I have my friends and companions. My activities and role in the encampment. Men are nothing more than a myth—something girls like Victoria dream about or a cautionary tale in Empanada’s weekly blessings. Beings obsessed with power and politics. But now there’s one before me. Two heads taller than I am. Hair the color of straw. It’s too dark to see the shade of his eyes but they look light, like Victoria’s. Gray perhaps. Maybe blue. His jaw is a fine sharp line and his nose slants evenly across his face. Lithe muscles line his arms and bulk up his shoulders. He carries a blade at his hip. A leather cuff around his wrist.

  His clothing is not made of leather—or at least not all of it. It looks finely made, as if on a machine. The stitches are even and close together. The fabric vibrant colors, vivid blues and greens, the darkest black. His eyes skim the forest and pause when they reach me. He’s aware. Not a fool, although it’s unlikely my father would send someone ill prepared to find me.

  I step under the long, wispy branches of the tree and approach him.

  “What is your name?” I ask. Directness has never been a problem for me.

  “Hati.”

  “You aren’t Greek.”

  “I’m from Odin’s realm.”

  “Norse then.” I’ve heard tales of the Norsemen. Epic gods of war and battle. I find it curious my father would send someone from outside to seek me out—to tell
me this news. But nothing Zeus does ever makes sense to me. “Tell me, how did my brother die?”

  “He’s been at the Academy, training for the trials.” I watch the man closely as he speaks. The way his lips move. The lines of his face. They’re hard—not soft like the women in the encampment. Everything about him seems angular, from his shoulders to the tapering of his waist. His voice is deep, so much I can almost feel it in my chest. I move closer and take a discrete whiff. He smells different, too. Musky, like the scent of bears downstream in the fall.

  “What trials?” I ask, then add, “What Academy?”

  He tilts his head. “You do not know about these things?”

  I shake my head. “I live in a world of hunting and gathering. We’re an isolated community. My father didn’t tell you?”

  “He said to be discrete.” A smile lifts the corners of his lips. “And to watch my back. I believe his exact words were, “The women of Artemis’ village are deadly. Tread carefully.”” He looks at my bow. Assesses my muscles. “The Academy is the premiere school for training and educating the most elite gods of the three realms. Greek, Roman and Norse. Applicants begin when they are twenty-one and typically spend the next three years learning politics, bureaucracy and climbing the social ladder. Once attained they will begin a lifelong career in ruling the masses.”

  “You still haven’t told me how my brother met his fate or explained these trials.”

  “Apollo’s death was shrouded in mystery but I do know it took place at the trails, which,” he adds, knowing I’m only going to ask again, “are a standard challenge for each graduating class but three weeks ago it was announced that things would be different this year.”

  “Different how?”

  He looks vaguely annoyed by my questions but continues. “Your father, Zeus, is retiring from his position of leadership over the Academy. Everyone assumed he would give the role to Apollo, who is—was—coming of age and set to graduate this year, but he didn’t. Instead of appointing a successor he declared a series of trails to take place over the next school year. The winner takes his place.”

  I absorb this information. One thing, other than the death of my brother, bothers me. “Why is my father retiring?”

  “That I can’t answer.” He gives me a tight smile. “I’m nothing more than a messenger.”

  “Again, how did my brother die? In these trials? An accident?”

  “Apollo was the shining glory of the academy. There was little doubt in anyone’s mind that he would win. Actually, he won the first challenge easily.” His eyes connect with mine and I feel something, a chill? Creep up my back. “Not everyone wanted your brother as their leader.”

  “What are you saying?” I ask.

  “Apollo was murdered.” He takes a deep breath. “And your father requests that you come back with me to the Academy.”

  “What? Why?” Fear ripples through me.

  “Because, Artemis, daughter of Zeus and Leto, he wants you to take his place and complete the trials in place of your brother.”

  ~*~

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