by S W Clarke
I double-locked the front door and secured the blinds and curtains before I climbed under the covers with Justin. “Here’s the plan,” I whispered, setting my arm over him and stroking his face. He shivered as I did, and I briefly forgot how powerful the World Army had made him, the Others they had combined his genetics with. He just seemed like Justin Truly, my love. “We’ll go to New York City, and we’ll find the resistance. They’ll help us get where we need to go—where we’ll be safe.”
Justin didn’t respond. The only noise was the muffled sound of the television on the other side of the wall—Cupid’s room. I rolled my eyes; he hadn’t been kidding about the telenovelas.
As I lay there, my thoughts roamed to what he’d said about my “love story.” Its power, its brightness. I didn’t doubt he really was Cupid, the former demigod of love, but coming to me, Isabella Ramirez?
He definitely had the wrong encantado.
I had just begun to fall asleep when I heard a faint thud. My eyes flicked open, and I lay perfectly still, listening.
Another thud. Another, another.
I glanced at the lampshade on the dresser next to Justin. It was swaying, jerking a little bit harder with each thud. Not again.
I threw the covers off and bolted over to the blinds, peered through them. Outside, the parking lot was empty except for our car. Maybe it wasn’t what I thought, maybe it was a—
Then I heard the bellow.
Chapter 5
Cupid and I both rushed out of our rooms at the same time. We met eyes in the breezeway. GoneGodDamn it, I was hoping we’d get some rest. A few hours. But this was too much, and I didn’t know how long we could keep doing this.
Two more days. Get to Times Square, get help, then collapse.
“Is that the odontotyrannos?” I asked.
“It’s her.”
“I thought you shot her with an arrow. I thought she was off to hump the nearest tree.”
“I don’t get it, either!” Cupid threw his hands up in the air. “This shouldn’t be happening. The only thing that could override the spell of my arrow would be a greater destiny presenting itself. But nothing is stronger than love …”
“We’ll have to figure out its ‘greater destiny’ later.” I turned back toward the room. “I’ll get Justin. You get in the car.”
“Isabella!” Cupid yelled behind me.
I spun back around. The odontotyrannos had emerged from the forest, pushing trees aside like she was wading through high grass. She stepped onto the highway, those powerful hooves echoing, and a tingle ran up my spine as her large eyes fixed on us from across the parking lot.
I had forgotten how terrifying she looked. Those red eyes glowed even brighter than the sign above her. Her head lowered like she was about to charge at us, and she let out another bellow. It looked like she was going to ram right into the motel.
That would up our bill.
With the odontotyrannos’s bellow still echoing in my ears, a tremendous yell returned through the parking lot. A human’s yell.
A figure appeared from around the side of the motel and came jogging toward the odontotyrannos. All three of us—Cupid, me and the odontotyrannos—stared as a man with a gnarled club wearing nothing but what looked like a lion skin walked right into the path between the creature and us.
“Oh my GoneGods,” I whispered. “It’s that dude.” Great, Mr. Muscle was going to get himself killed.
“Hey, that kind of looks like ... ” Cupid trailed off. “Nah, couldn’t be. Hey, you! Run away. Get out of here, you dummy.”
The man ignored us. He raised his club and his other arm, roaring at the monster.
Mr. Muscle was challenging her.
“We have to do something,” I said to Cupid.
Before Cupid could respond, the odontotyrannos answered the challenge with a new, deeper bellow. This sounded angrier, like it came straight from the bottom of her lungs. She lowered her head even farther, one hoof pawing the ground before she charged at the man, pushing up asphalt in her wake.
Cupid’s hands flew to the sides of his face. “A greater destiny,” he breathed.
I threw my hands over my eyes, partly blocking my vision as the scene unfolded. The odontotyrannos closed in on the man, who looked smaller and smaller as she drew near, and he just stood there in a half-crouch with his club at the ready.
But as she came to within striking distance, those horns poised to impale him, he stepped right and swung at the side of her head. I expected the club to splinter to pieces on contact, but it didn’t. I also expected him to be thrown off his feet by the impact, but he wasn’t.
Instead, the odontotyrannos flew head-first through the air and landed on her side. As in, her forward momentum was completely redirected by his blow.
“Holy—“ Cupid began.
“—merda,” I finished in Portuguese.
What had just happened?
We watched as the man straightened, and the odontotyrannos struggled back to her feet. Within half a minute, they had begun round two—this time with a lot less distance between them. In fact, instead of backing up, he had moved closer to her.
The creature attempted to rear and stomp on him, but he rolled away and was up on his bare feet in one motion. The club came around in a blur, and this time he got her right in the ribs.
I heard a crack—what must have been his club splintering. Except the odontotyrannos dropped again. Past her hill of a body, we saw the man still standing, his club intact in his hand.
“Did you hear that crack? He must be hurt.” I started across the parking lot, but felt a small hand encircle my wrist.
“No, Isabella—that wasn’t his bones cracking,” Cupid whispered. “It was hers.”
I stopped, staring on. The odontotyrannos heaved, but her breathing was labored. Cupid was right: his blow had cracked her ribs. Meanwhile, he wasn’t even breathing hard.
His face rose, and he spotted Cupid and me under the porchlight outside our motel rooms. When he started toward us, I began backing up—I was ready to run straight inside the room and bolt the door behind me—when that deep, musical voice rang out. “You,” the man said. “I scent the stymphalian birds on you.”
Cupid and I gasped at the same time.
The stymphalian birds. He knew their true name, which could only mean one of two things: He was a scholar specializing in ancient Greek mythology with a particular emphasis on rare and little-mentioned creatures. Or he was with the World Army.
The World Army had unleashed the stymphalian birds on Montreal to drum up fear of Others, and it had worked. The only reason they weren’t terrorizing the city right now was because Justin and I had defeated them.
So to hear this man—who I’d just watched defeat an odontotyrannos which I was 99% certain had been sent after us by the World Army itself—talk about stymphalian birds, I wasn’t counting on him being a scholar. But if he was with the World Army, why would he have toppled the same monster who had chased us into another country?
“I thought it was you,” I heard Cupid say. “I’ve never seen another man defeat an odontotyrannos, in the old world or the new.”
I stared at Cupid. Did he know Mr. Muscle?
The man gestured back toward the odontotyrannos as he came into the light. And I was bowled over again by how wildly handsome he was. “Who else would be able to defeat a beast such as this so magnificently?”
Cupid chuckled. “Well, now I know for certain. Nobody else is as humble as you.”
Cupid knew him, that was for certain. And because Cupid had saved my life once already, that weighed much heavier than my suspicions. I felt a tiny seed of trust bloom in my stomach.
Mr. Muscle laughed, and the sound almost made me want to laugh, it was so authentic and effortless. Plus, I got to watch his six-pack move under his abdomen as he did. “And no one else is as incisive as you, Cupid of Eros.” His eyes shifted to me. “Was it you who defeated the stymphalian birds? Tell me.”
; “I …” I hesitated, unwilling to divulge information so sensitive to a man I’d just met. But boy, it was a challenge not to tell him exactly what he wanted to hear. “In a way.”
“In a way, you say.” He leaned close, sniffed me so hard the ends of my hair lifted. “Yes, the scent of my labor is on you, but not as strongly as what wafts from behind that door.” He pointed to the room where Justin was currently sleeping.
Cupid raised a finger. “I thought you defeated those little assholes way back when?”
The man’s eyes didn’t leave mine. “I did. A fact which Hera could not stand, so she ensured they lived on.”
“As did you, son of Zeus,” Cupid said wistfully. “I thought you had departed with the rest of the gods.”
Son of Zeus. A god of Greek mythology? I raised my eyes carefully back to the man standing before me, flitting up his wall of chest and to his face. Neural functions returned, along with all the implications of what had just been said.
Who were the children of Zeus? Right now, I couldn’t think of a single one.
“Evidently I was not godlike enough,” the man said. A smirk cracked his face. “I wonder what could have made them think that. Do you remember the fifteen maidens of the—”
Cupid cut in with a waggling finger. “Not for polite company, you dog you.”
I raised a hand. “Excuse me. Son of Zeus?”
The man turned to me. Those green eyes found mine again, and I nearly staggered under their intensity. GoneGods give me strength, but the man’s charisma hit me like a wave. “Ah, but I haven’t made introductions.” His hand came around and found mine. His warmth radiated into my fingers as he lifted my hand to his lips. “What may I call you? Judging from your lush black hair and fiery spirit, I’ll have a name for you … after. Perhaps we could wait until then.”
I pulled away my hand, knowing full well what preceded “after.” I also knew that in other circumstances, I’d be tempted. More than tempted.
“Isabella,” I whispered. My fingers came away branded by his touch, and I folded them into my opposite hand. After everything that had happened, him kissing my knuckles was the cake-topper. It sent my insides to jelly, nerves lighting through my body after the heavy shot of adrenaline I’d gotten minutes earlier. “And you?”
“He is the demigod born of the god amongst gods,” Cupid whispered to me. “A legend amongst men, not seen for two thousand years.”
The man waved a hand through the air. “No need for all that.” He straightened, one hand settling over his chest. “Lady, you may call me just Hercules.”
↔
Here in the parking lot of an isolated motel in Vermont, Greek antiquity had just walked off the page. Hercules the demigod stood before me.
I felt like I was in a dream. So after a moment of staring, I raised my hand to my forehead and … saluted. GoneGods know why—I guess because Hercules was renowned as a fighter. Then I said, “Hercules it is.”
Hercules and Cupid just looked at me.
“I think she goes a bit loopy around handsome men,” Cupid explained to him in a clearly audible whisper, one finger touching his shoulder. “But she possesses a miraculous love story. Trust me.”
Hercules nodded. “I’m not surprised. She’s quite compelling.”
I took a deep breath and commenced shivering. With the adrenaline leaving my system, I felt the chill like nothing else.
“The lady Isabella is cold,” Hercules observed. “We should bring her inside.”
Cupid gestured toward his door. “Herc, please do me the honor of staying in my motel room tonight. Isabella, come—we’ll talk.”
I hesitated, pointed at the odontotyrannos. “What about that?”
“Oh,” Hercules said. “An oversight. One moment.” He strode into the parking lot and proceeded to take hold of the odontotyrannos by its head and drag it off behind the motel like an unwieldy bag of trash.
Cupid and I just stared.
“You said only a greater destiny could divert the odontotyrannos,” I said. “Was he the greater destiny that brought her here?”
Cupid nodded. “Perceptive of you to notice. Yes, defeating an odontotyrannos was one of Hercules’s minor labors. As soon as she sensed him, his nearness overcame the power of my arrow.”
“She was drawn to fight him?”
Cupid glanced up at me as Hercules reappeared from behind the motel. “Of course. A labor is a labor—it is timeless, binding. I suspect this odontotyrannos was the descendant of the ancients Hercules fought in the old world.”
“I thought Cupid’s arrows were the most powerful magical force out there. I mean …” I threw my hands out. “Passion, right? Nothing is more powerful than lust.”
Cupid sighed. “Popular culture.”
Hercules chuckled as he wiped his hands on approach. “I can assure you, Lady Isabella, that Cupid’s arrows are quite potent. Someday I’ll share with you the story of the chalice.”
I realized I was staring at the fine musculature of his shoulders and lifted my eyes. “The chalice?”
Cupid made a face. “That’s not one of my prouder shots.”
Hercules clapped the boy on the back, and his tiny wings started into frenzied motion so he wouldn’t fall over from the force of it. “It’s a story for the ages, old friend. No need for shame.”
The two were headed toward the door, but I didn’t move. “We should talk in my room. I have to keep an eye on Justin.”
A minute later, we stood around a sleeping Justin. “This room,” Hercules said with an extended hand, “is where the scent of my labor stems from.”
I cleared my throat. “Hercules, about the stymphalian birds … Justin slew them some weeks ago.” I thought back to the predatory creatures with bronze wings and talons, unleashed on us by the World Army to stir up fear of Others.
They were terrifying.
I went on to describe their vicious curved beaks. The way they flew, and their style of diving and striking. Both Cupid and Hercules seemed surprised by my understanding of them, but neither knew how much time I’d put in to studying birds over the decades. To me, they were fascinating, prehistoric.
I also told him about how Justin and I had fought them in the forest near Montreal. How I had poisoned them, and he had brought others down with a bow and arrow.
Hercules’s green eyes searched mine as I spoke. “No doubt he slew them as you describe,” he pronounced when I had finished, his gaze turning murderous as it shifted to Justin. Hercules crossed to the bed’s edge, leaned over it and took an audible inhale. It was so loud, in fact, that Justin’s eyes opened.
As he gazed up into the veil of Hercules’s hair, he practically leapt out of the bed. “Who the hell is this?!” Justin yelled, more animated than I’d seen him in days as he climbed to his feet.
“You,” Hercules bellowed so loudly the replica paintings on the walls shook. “You have stolen my glory.” And before any of us could react, Hercules had stepped forward and, with one hand folded to a fist, popped Justin right in the face.
“Merda!” I yelled.
Justin staggered back, blood sprouting immediately from his nose. I went to grab Hercules, but the demigod wasn’t advancing on Justin. Instead, he staggered back himself, one hand going up to his own nose.
Just then, a twang echoed through the hotel room, and a white-feathered arrow with hearts on the shaft embedded itself between Hercules’s shoulder blades. “Got ‘em,” Cupid said.
“Ach!” Hercules yelled, his free hand reaching around toward his back as he lost his balance, stumbled and dropped.
On the far side of the room, Justin did the same, sprawling onto his backside. What in the Empty Hell? I thought as, almost as one, my boyfriend and the demigod fell flat on their backs.
Chapter 6
I spent a second staring at the two men laid before me, unsure which direction to head in first. The bathroom, to grab a towel for the blood on Justin’s face? Or just drop to his side and cradle his
head? Or maybe enlist Cupid to help me get Hercules away from my boyfriend?
Most of all, I was frozen to the spot by the question circulating again and again in my mind. What just happened?
“Well, that was unexpected,” came a cheery voice. In the next second, Hercules had risen to his feet, casting me and Cupid a bright-eyed look … which was made exceptionally strange by his bloody nose. As he turned toward us, the arrow turned with him, though he didn’t seem to notice it sticking out of his back. “Don’t suppose either of you has any sage? You know, for this.” He indicated his bloody nose as though it was nothing.
“Afraid I haven’t carried any on me since the years ended in B.C.,” Cupid said.
I gazed wide-eyed up at Hercules. “You’re not … angry?”
Hercules blinked. “About?”
I tried not to let my eyes stray to Justin, as though by reminding Hercules of his presence I might reinvigorate his ire.
Cupid flitted to my side. “He’s safe now,” he whispered. “My arrow did its work.”
“Which means what?” I whispered back.
“Hercules’s feelings about your boyfriend have been adjusted from ‘murderous rage’ to ‘general disdain.’ ”
We both watched as Hercules hummed, his eyes flicking over the motel room until he spotted a tissue box. He grabbed it, ripped out a tissue with a flourish and dropped it, watching it float to the floor.
“They’re for your nose,” Cupid interjected. “For nose-wiping, that is.”
Hercules nodded, grabbed another tissue from the box and set it to his face. “Ahh, how soft. How ingenious, this thin paper.”
“Will it hold?” I whispered to Cupid.
“As long as Justin doesn’t go out of his way to piss Hercules off,” Cupid explained, “the demigod will regard him as distasteful and be able to control his desire to murder him.”
“Well, that was a trip,” Justin murmured from across the room. He was sitting up, his elbows on his knees, blood dripping down from his nose. “I think I saw the GoneGods.”
