Дженнифер Л. Арментраут - Аполлион

Thanatos.

The god’s lips tipped up a little on one side, as if he knew what I was thinking, and I wondered then if I was actually dead, if someone had lied about the whole Apollyon-death thing, because I was staring at the god of peaceful death.

Then again, my death, if that was what this really was, had been anything but peaceful. Had he come to answer my prayers? To take this pain away?

Easing down, Thanatos tipped his head to the side as he leaned over me. “Can you hear me?”

I tried to open my mouth but couldn’t.

“Blink if you can,” he said with surprising gentleness.

I blinked.

“We may have been foes in the past, but I am not here to harm you now. I’m watching over you until Apollo can return with his son, Asclepius.”

Apollo? His son? Confusion swamped me and I dragged in a deeper breath I immediately regretted. Pain arced across my chest.

Thanatos moved to place his hand on my forehead, but stopped short. “It’s okay. You’re in Olympus.”

Olympus? How in the world was that okay?

“Well, just outside of Olympus, if you want to get technical.” He glanced over his shoulder, sighing softly. “What you did by standing up to Ares? Not many would—no mortal, demigod and surely not even the Apollyon. You could’ve submitted to him. You would’ve saved yourself so much pain.”

Thanatos leaned in close, focusing on me with white eyes that held no pupils or irises. “You held your ground, and I can respect that. I can also admire that.”

Maybe, if it didn’t feel like my body had been shattered into a million pieces, I could really appreciate that statement. The jasmine-scented air stirred, and two more shadows fell over the spot where I lay… in the grass, I realized dumbly. My entire back felt wet and I wasn’t hopeful enough to think that it was dew instead of my own blood… or someone else’s. No. It couldn’t be someone else’s, because that would mean that Aiden or Marcus…

Apollo came into focus, and instead of showing off those creepy god peepers, he stared down at me with eyes that matched the sky over his shoulder. A small, almost-sad smile tugged at his lips, which I found so strange since it was rare that Apollo showed any real emotion.

“There was no way I could heal you in the mortal realm. The damage is too extensive,” he said, and for the first time, he cut right to the chase. “I had to bring you here, as close to Olympus as possible. All the aether surrounding my home will help Asclepius.”

I wanted to ask about Aiden and Marcus, but when I finally managed to open my mouth, only the smallest whimper leaked out.

“Don’t try to talk,” Apollo said. He leaned back, making room for another god. “My son is going to heal you.” A wry grin twisted his lips. “And I know if you could, you’d say something like ‘how many kids do you have?’ and my answer would be ‘many’.”

Yeah, I was kind of curious, and I also wondered if it meant that Asclepius was related to me, but what I really wanted to know was what had happened to Aiden and Marcus.

Asclepius took the place of Thanatos. This god barely resembled Apollo. A full beard covered his face, making it difficult to gauge his age, but the fine lines spreading out from the corners of his white eyes made him look much older than his father. My eyes moved to Apollo, and I was comforted to find that he was still there. He hadn’t left me with Thanatos and a stranger.

Finally, Apollo took pity on me. “The last I saw of Aiden and Marcus, they were fine. But I haven’t been back since I brought you here.”

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. It wasn’t a hundred percent confirmation that they were okay, but it was something that I could hold onto.

“Do you know the story of my son?” Apollo asked.

When I did nothing, Asclepius laughed. “He loves to tell this story.”

“His mortal mother died during childbirth, and while she was on the funeral pyre, I cut him from the womb.” As Apollo spoke, his son eyed the numerous injuries with a mixed look of disgust and challenge. “I gave him to the centaur Chiron, who raised him in the art of medicine. Of course, having my genes, he already had a knack for healing.”

Of course.

“But my sister had asked Asclepius to bring Hippolytus back to life, and between Hades being pissed off about that, and Aphrodite’s whining, Zeus killed my son with a thunderbolt.” A muscle popped out in Apollo’s jaw. “So I killed Cyclopes, ensuring that Zeus would have no more thunderbolts.”

Oookay…

“I ended up banned from Olympus for a year,” Apollo continued blithely, “but in the end, Zeus resurrected my son to ensure there would be no future feuds with me.” He paused. “You’re wondering what the moral of this story is? I always find a way to take care of my own.”

Before I could process what that meant, his son placed his hands on my chest. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have been thrilled with the idea of being felt up, but incredible warmth swept through me. From the tips of my aching toes to the top of my fractured skull, dizzying, wonderful warmth invaded every pore.

The god closed his eyes. “This may sting.”

What? No, I wanted to scream, because I couldn’t take anymore, but then the warmth blistered my skin and I did scream.

Fire raged through me, spreading out of control and searing every cell. My broken body reared off the ground.

Asclepius’ face blurred into a severe frown. “There’s something else here….”

For the second time in however many minutes, I was pulled into the void, lost in a black sea of nothingness.

When I opened my eyes, my vision was clear and I’d been moved into a circular chamber with marble walls. Birds shrilled in a soft, lyrical verse from somewhere outside the room. Atable sat in the middle of a raised dais. Resting atop the table was a pitcher full of honey-colored liquid. Heavy, scented air flowed through a small opening in the wall, stirring the white canopy hanging from the posts at the foot of the bed I rested in.

Abed? Obviously it was a step up from lying in grass, but confusion pinged at me. I pushed up onto my elbows and winced as an ache rolled through my entire body.

I’d been healed, but…

Memories pieced back together, of Thanatos, Apollo and his son.

Holy crap, I was in—or near—Olympus.

Never in my life did I think I’d breathe the aether-enriched air of the gods, but here I was. A low hum of excitement trilled in my veins. I wanted to race off the bed and investigate. Olympus was rumored to be the most beautiful place in existence, even more so than the Elysian Fields. Creatures of myths roamed freely here, and plants that no longer flourished in the mortal realm grew to staggering heights in Olympus. This was a once-in-a-life…

The excitement gave way to unrest. I wasn’t here for sightseeing. It wasn’t like I was on vacation and Apollo would pop in and give me a tour along with keepsake mouse ears. This wasn’t Disney World, and I was here because Ares…

In the back of my mind, and in the center of my very being, there was a dark and ugly thing that had been born and taken root, a distinct coldness that no amount of warm air could quell. My thoughts swung to Ares and my heart turned heavy. Raw terror formed in the back of my throat, tasting like bile.

But, oh gods, it wasn’t just Ares, or the thought of facing him again. It was the pain that had festered and rotted me, the pain that had shattered me into pieces and caused me to beg for release—for death. Even though I had never spoken the words aloud, I knew that Ares had felt it. It had been in my eyes; my very soul had been laid bare.