Prophecy of the Most Beautiful

by Jones, Diantha

  She hadn't thought of it in that way and didn't like the thought one bit. She didn't want Strafford involved in this. "If anything happens to you, I'll die."

  He half-smiled, but didn't give her any of the comforting words she'd been expecting. She should have been flattered that he didn't want to lie to her face and tell her everything was going to be okay when there was a good chance that it wouldn't be. But she'd been hoping for that lie. She wasn't sure she could do whatever the Fates had planned for her future. Not without the assurance that everyone she loved wouldn’t get hurt in the process. But she guessed there could be no such assurances. This life had none.

  Strafford dropped his head and his brow creased as he thought hard about something. She was thinking how brilliant and prophetic Apollo had to be to orchestrate such a flawless plan. If she was right in her thinking, then he had known that she and Strafford would fall for each other, binding the Sun Prince to the GUP. It was simply brilliant…and frightening. What other things did Apollo already know? What other plans might the god have up his divine sleeve? She was dreading finding out.

  Eventually, Strafford's eyes found hers again and he said, "Don't tell the others or anyone else for tha' matter. We have to pretend like nothin' is different 'cause if Apollo finds out we know his plans or the GUP…well…we have to buy us some time is all. To figure things out."

  She took his hand again, knowing what he meant. "Strafford, I think the Fates have already decided. There's really no way to stop––"

  "There's always a way. You said 'maybe sky', so possibly there's a chance Zeus can keep his throne and we can avoid a war. All I know for sure is tha' nothin' is set in stone until we decide tha' it is. Our will can change things. You, above everyone else, should know tha'."

  She couldn't argue it. He was right.

  "I have to go. I have to think," He said, "and you need to sleep."

  She gripped his hand. "No. Don't go."

  He chuckled. "Do you have to fight me on everythin'? You need your rest." He paused, then more seriously added, "I will protect you, you know. From everythin' and everyone.” He smiled a little. “I jus’ don’ have a choice abou’ it anymore."

  He showed her the palm of his left hand, which had been branded with a symbol that looked like the letter "M", but instead of being round at the top, each stroke met at a perfect ninety-degree angle. She had seen something that resembled this before. On a side of the directory at the cabin in Spritewood……

  "The Delphic Tripod." Chloe let her fingers graze over the shallow grooves of the brand. "Is this the price you paid?" She asked softly.

  His expression was like looking into the face of a statue. "Yup. Apollo cursed me. Part of his plan to tie me to you, no doubt."

  "Why would he do that?" She said angrily, "What does it mean? Why the Delphic Tripod?"

  He pulled his hand from her grip. "It doesn' matter, Red. I don't want you to be worried abou' things tha' don't have to do with you gettin' better. Not wars, or curses, or prophecies. I want you to rest."

  "I don't want to rest! I want to know what that curse will do to you!" Then she realized something else that pained her. "Your Kismet lines! He branded over them! I'll never be able to read your prophecies now!" Now she would never know the rest of the one she had begun to uncover in New Elysium.

  Strafford finally smiled. "Then I should've had him curse me much sooner. I don't want to know any of my prophecies. Now I'm done talkin'. Be quiet and rest." She wanted to force him to tell her what the curse meant, but nevertheless, she settled back against her pillow, ready to do whatever he wanted her to do because that's what she would do for Strafford…anything.

  He made sure she was comfortable, arranging the pillows for her and retrieving an extra blanket for her out of one of three wardrobes in his spacious suite. He leaned over her to fix a part of the sheet that had come undone and after straightening it out, he lingered there, their faces hardly more than two inches apart. The oxygen immediately left the room and all she was living on was him––the sight of him, the smell of him, his very presence. She was barely breathing when his mouth pressed down on hers. Her arms slid up his chest and around his neck, and she clung to him like she was afraid he would magically disappear. His lips pressed down harder on hers, his arms gently slipped under and around her waist as he pulled her up to him, and she was instantly assured that he wasn't going anywhere.

  His lips were warm and soft, like she knew they would be. His tongue tasted sweet, like candy, or maybe she had only imagined it. All she knew for sure was, Cupid's kiss was now going to have to settle for second place.

  Strafford was the one to finally pull back, but only a little. They sat in a close embrace. "I should go now," He whispered, his sweet breath tickling her nose, "before I spend the night here."

  "You can stay," she whispered back, her fingers tangled desperately in his hair. Please stay.

  “I can’t. It’s jus’ not a good idea.” He looked serious, so she didn’t push it. But she wanted to.

  "I forgot to tell you," He said, turning away from the subject, "I brought you somethin'."

  A gift? "What is it?" She asked, trying not to sound too anxious. She allowed him a little room to maneuver.

  From out of his back pocket, he pulled a small box. She sucked in a breath as he placed it in her hand.

  "Open it."

  She ran her hand over the jeweled case before obeying. She gasped.

  "A ring! Is this––"

  "Your Morph? Yeah." He lifted the ring from its box and gestured for her hand. "You have to put it on immediately. It has to know who it belongs to." He slid it onto the ring finger of her right hand. "It's onyx made from Aphrodite's fingernails and then set in Empyrean bronze. It cost me a fortune, but, ah, you're worth it, I guess."

  She cradled her arm to her chest. "Thank you so much, Strafford. I love it." She puckered her lips for a kiss and he placed one on them, gentle and sweet.

  "Go on ahead, take it off. See if it works. You have to will it to change."

  Gently, she slid the ring off and she filled her mind with thoughts of the ring changing into a weapon. In the next second, there was a muted flash and she was holding a beautiful onyx dagger with a bronze handle engraved with a dragon. "Just like your tattoo. Awesome." She willed it back into a ring and slid it onto her finger.

  "Glad you like it." After another kiss, he stood. "Enough excitement, sleep now." He shook his head when she started to protest again and backed towards the door.

  "I love you, Chloe. Rest well. I won't be far away.” At the doorway, he stopped and waved his hand. The skylights dimmed to almost complete darkness, the door closed behind him and he was gone.

  *****

  XXXVII. Chloe

  When Chloe saw her house again, a bout of anxiety settled itself in the pit of her stomach. It had been three days since she had found out Strafford was letting her go home to visit, and she had been as giddy as a child ever since––until now. Now, she was nothing but a bundle of nerves. A few cop cars were sitting out front, but there were no signs of any cops actually being in them. The front door of her tiny, red brick house was closed and she figured they were all inside with her mother and brother.

  What would her mother do when she saw her? What would she say when she found out that Chloe had been perfectly fine this entire time while she had been crazy with worry? Would Benjy be happy to see her, or would he be angry that she had stayed gone so long and hadn't come back to him?

  Strafford was holding her hand as they walked up the sidewalk towards the house. Ace and Swindle followed behind them.

  “Where’s Putt-Putt?” She questioned out loud. Her little lemon was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where’s wha’? Strafford asked, but she just shook her head.

  "Where are the twins, is the question," Ace said, looking around. "They're supposed to be here."

  "They're probably off harassing some poor mortal girls somewhere," laughed Swindle, letting B
ill fly away to do whatever Bill liked to do. They stopped walking.

  Strafford looked annoyed when he realized the twins really were nowhere to be found. He had tried to send a letter by Iris to let them know they were coming, but the goddess had never answered the summons. "Find them, and when you do, kick their arse all the way back here for leavin' their post." Ace grinned like it would be his pleasure and he and Swindle disappeared behind the house.

  Strafford tried to start walking again, but Chloe wouldn't let him. Instead, she detoured off the path towards the big tree in her front yard. She leaned against it, making sure no one could see her from inside the house, and Strafford posted up beside her. "I'm nervous," She said, "To see my own family, I'm nervous."

  "Nervous? After all the bloody fuss you made abou' comin' back here?"

  "I know, I know, but that was before I had been missing for months. Look! It's spring! I'm scared that they've resigned themselves to thinking that I'm dead and I don't know what this is going to do to them."

  Strafford swept her into his arms in one smooth movement. "They're your family. They would never resign themselves to acceptin' tha' you're not comin' back to them. Never. Jus' as you would never resign yourself to thinkin' tha' you'd never see them again. You'd live on tha' hope, forever if you had to. So would they."

  She conceded with a nod. "You're right," she said, "You're always right. I can't stand it when you're right."

  He kissed her, soft and slow. "You love it when I'm right, wan."

  She sighed. "I just love you…"

  "How could you not? I'm spectacular." And he kissed her before she could make a comeback.

  He pulled away a minute later. "Your family," He whispered. "Go see them." He smiled at her reluctance to let him go and kissed her pouty lips. "There'll be more later. Much more. I'm not going anywhere."

  "Promise?"

  "No. I don't make outright promises unless I’m certain I’ll be alive long enough to keep them. And as you know, there are no certainties when you’re a Prince of Myth."

  "You're never going to die." She jabbed a finger into his chest to make her point clear, then inhaled. “Your smell. What is it? It’s driving me crazy.”

  “In a good way, I hope. It’s laurel. I was born marked with it.”

  “Of course you were.” Because he was chosen.

  He smiled. "Now go see your family. Tha’s an order."

  He pushed her towards her house, and slowly, she made her way to the front stoop.

  Her hand lingered near the door knob.

  "It's okay, Chloe. I'm right here."

  She looked back at him. His smile was so genuine and affectionate, her heart almost burst with love. She wanted to kiss him again right then, but kept her mind on the task ahead. Her family was the most important thing going on at the moment.

  The front door was unlocked, as she had figured it might be with all of the policemen there. She stepped through and all heads snapped up to see who had just walked in. Surprised looks circled the room.

  "It's her," One cop scrambled to hold up her picture to compare. While they gawked at her, the word was passed via shouts towards the dining room.

  Then things happened kind of fast.

  All cop eyes looked at Chloe, then at Strafford. They dropped to the dagger on his hip, then back to her. They lingered a minute. Then every cop whipped out their gun.

  Someone grabbed Chloe from behind and pulled her out of firing range. "Hey!" She exclaimed.

  "I'm Detective Pierson," A man in a suit stepped forward out of the dining area. He had his own gun out and pointed at Strafford. "Don't resist. We don't want to have to hurt you, son."

  Strafford ignored him. "Let her go," He calmly ordered the cop who was holding onto her. Whoever it was had a tight grip and wasn't letting go, but she could tell it was a man by his hairy arms and the stench of his cheap cologne.

  "She's safe," Det. Pierson said, taking another few steps forward, "I'm going to ask you to put your hands behind your head and then slowly drop to your knees."

  "I won't say it again," Strafford said, still calm. "Let. Her. Go."

  The hairy arms stayed tightly wound around her.

  "Strafford…" She said.

  Pierson foolishly took another step. It was over now...

  The sound of Pierson's arm breaking was nauseating, and before the detective had even known what had happened to him, Strafford had taken his gun and had begun utilizing him as a shield. He jabbed the gun up against Pierson's throat while the detective's crooked arm dangled painfully at his side. The others were yelling the usual cop stuff like "Drop your weapon!" and "Don't make us shoot you!", "Get down on the ground!"––-all things that were having absolutely no effect on Strafford. He only pushed the gun harder into the detective's neck and glared at the other officers, daring any one of them to pull the trigger. Detective Pierson was shouting orders for them to shoot, but Strafford was good about not giving them any body parts to shoot at.

  Knowing what she had to do, Chloe elbowed her captor in the gut. Smiling at the painful grunt he made, she wondered how he could even call himself a cop if little old her could escape him. She jumped right into the middle of the stand-off. "Don't shoot!" She shouted at the officers, "You'll just end up hurting the detective!" She turned to Strafford and pleadingly held out her arms. "Can you let him go please? I really don't think my mom would appreciate there being a shoot-out in her living room. Ew, and look what you did to his arm. He needs to get to the hospital, so could you drop him so they can call an ambulance or something?"

  She crossed her arms and waited. After a few more tense minutes and several more threats––though they were timid ones––from the officers, Strafford tossed Pierson to the ground. The detective cursed in pain and rolled over to cradle his fractured arm.

  "Thank you," She said as she turned to the other officers. "Your turn now. Oh and could you please let us explain what’s going on before you try and arrest him?"

  “Try, being the key word,” Strafford growled.

  She rolled her eyes. "Could you put the gun down already? I really don’t want anyone getting hurt.” He knew she meant she didn’t want him hurting anyone, but it went unsaid.

  More minutes passed before the police officers realized Strafford had no plans of backing down before they did. Besides, she was standing between them, and she knew as long as she was, there would be no shooting. Guns were eventually returned to their holsters and Strafford finally dropped the one he had declared on the Pierson's chest, but not before dislodging the bullet chamber, taking out the bullets and pocketing them. The others gathered around Pierson and one called for an ambulance on his walkie. The one she had elbowed grabbed the now empty gun and moved it out of sight.

  "What's going on down here? What's all the noise for? Have you heard anything new?" A female's voice cried out as it made its way down the stairs. Chloe's heart jumped up into her throat and the butterflies already in her stomach tried to break out. She had been waiting months to hear this voice again, but now that she had, she didn't know what she should do next.

  Her mother stopped moving three steps before she made it to the bottom. She grabbed at the part of the sweater over her heart and gripped the railing to steady herself. She quickly surveyed the scene––the injured detective on the floor, his fellow officers frantically moving to help him, the unknown boy with black hair casually standing on the other side of the living room––and then there was Chloe, her daughter.

  When their eyes met, Chloe's mother stumbled down the last three steps and shuffled closer to her. Chloe's eyes filled with tears which she struggled to contain there. Her mother looked so distraught and tired. Her pretty face was stained with dried tears and she clearly hadn't slept in days. A flurry of emotions swept through Chloe and she reached out for her mother.

  "Mom," She whimpered as the woman made a sudden grab for her and pulled her in close.

  Their embrace was long and hard. Beth spent several long m
inutes rubbing her hands over Chloe's face as though she was assuring herself that it was indeed her daughter standing in front of her. Her tired eyes looked into Chloe's as she ran her fingers through Chloe's red locks. She seemed to notice something she hadn't yet and became fixated on it.

  "You …you brushed your hair," She finally mumbled. "It's…so pretty."

  Then she burst into tears.

  "Mama," Chloe said again as she threw her arms around her. "It's okay, Mama. I'm okay. I'm here and I'm okay."

  "I thought you were dead!" Her mother cried harder, her arms wrapping around Chloe so tightly she could barely breathe.

  "No, Mama. I'm not dead."

  "You never came home from school and the police found your car abandoned in the parking lot. There was no evidence of you being kidnapped or hurt. But you never came home, and I waited for you! Then they found your backpack in the woods by the school. And there was blood! I was sure you were dead and I would never see you again!"

  Her mother forced them apart, but tightly gripped both of Chloe's arms and gave her a good hard shake. "Where have you been all this time?" Anger and hurt seeped through every word.

  "I've been safe. I'm okay. I had to stay away to keep you safe." She looked at Strafford, who had gone statue over by the couch. "They took very good care of me."

  Beth was looking at him too. "They? Him? Is this all your doing?" She snapped. Then suddenly she flew into a rage and running at him, screamed, "Is this all your fault?! Did you kidnap my daughter?! Did you do this?!"

  "Mom! STOP!" Chloe shouted, trying to restrain her mother whose fists were pounding against Strafford's chest and arms. He didn't move to stop her either, but let her hit him as if he knew the attack had been coming and had braced himself for it. The cops were standing back watching, looking unsure of whether they should step in or keep as much distance between them and Strafford as possible.