Chapter IV
Demi
I sat there stunned while Hestia rang her bell again like she was Tinker Bell offering musical therapy sessions.
“This is going to be so wonderful,” she sighed, as if she’d just reached the end of some corny rom-com. One filled with all the tropes I actively campaigned against in real life.
Seriously, do we really think that Graham and Amanda lived happily ever after in The Holiday?
Please, they had drunk sex on the first night, and he failed to mention up front that he was a single dad.
Don’t even get me going on her emotional issues.
Issues suspiciously similar to my own. There was a reason why they skipped to the cheesy montage at the end of that movie where they make you believe in love at first sight and think that it was all going to work out.
I promise you that in ten years, Graham will have cheated on Amanda, swearing it was only because he was drinking, and Amanda will toss all his things out the window, vowing never to love or shed a tear again.
Would I still watch this movie religiously every holiday season? Absolutely, 100 percent, yes. Give me all the Jude Law. Well, give him to me in a fictional setting, anyway.
If only I were in a fictional setting now. But the look my father was giving me said he was dead serious.
“I’m sorry, but don’t you think that it’s up to me to decide when and if I want to fall in love?”
“You know better than to ask that question. While I am your father first and foremost, I am the god of love.”
“So you’re going to force me to fall in love? Prick me with your touch?” There were never any arrows involved. That was more for branding. Cupid and Eros had come up with the idea.
The love pulse was subtler. It felt like your heart had been pricked from the inside. A feeling to live and die for. Something you sense before you understand it—so the poets say. Or my father and Cupid.
I’d felt it once, without a love pulse from the gods. It was the most incredible feeling, but it turned out to be a lie.
“I would never do that to you. You will choose who you fall in love with.”
I folded my hands in my lap. “Perfect. I choose not to fall in love with anybody.”
“That is not an option.”
“I’m pretty sure it is.” In fact, I knew it was. I couldn’t and wouldn’t hurt anyone like I’d injured Jonas.
“Of course, you are right. I cannot force you to fall in love. But until you do, you will no longer be able to run the Bureau, and you will no longer be able to . . .” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Live among us.”
“What?” My voice cracked. Panic surged through me—Mount Vesuvius eruption–level panic. Lava-in-the-veins, ash-in-the-lungs kind of panic. He was kicking me out.
“This is not coming from me,” Father was quick to say. “This comes from Zeus himself.”
“I thought he loved me? He said he appreciated my snark. For crying out loud, he gave me a golden eagle for my eighteenth birthday.”
He’d told me I was one of his favorites, but I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone.
He didn’t hand out golden eagles to just anyone.
So many of my cousins were jealous beyond belief.
Getting Lady Goldy was the highlight of being a demigoddess.
Okay, that and free rent. Which, apparently, I was about to lose.
“He does love you. That is why he wants you to use your divine potential. And how can a goddess of love do that without knowing love herself?”
“First, I’m a demigoddess. I have only half the divine potential. And second, Bureau employee job satisfaction is way up since I took over. That should count for something.”
Father offered me a placating smile. “Don’t you see that being both mortal and divine makes you more powerful? Who better to help humans navigate love? And, my dear daughter, I know the powers you have kept locked inside of you. And I also know what you did to your heart.”
Holy Hades. How did he know? I looked down at my painted-black toenails, each one adorned with a tiny skull.
Cassie had outdone herself. If she ever decided to live in the mortal world, she should open a nail salon. Maybe I could work for her. Sweep floors. Manage appointments. Learn the difference between gel and acrylic.
It would mean a name change, of course. And a lot of hyperventilating.
And getting used to a much lower standard of living.
No more celestial pantry stocked with ambrosia-infused chocolate.
No more rent-free penthouse with a view of the California coastline.
The coastline that held so many sweet memories of my mom and me.
And . . . I’d have to learn how to shut off the powers my father spoke of.
Powers I once thought were just intuition.
Before the accident, I just thought it was neat that I had a knack for knowing who should be together and who shouldn’t.
I could sense when someone was cheating.
Or when heartbreak was waiting just around the corner.
Sometimes, I could hear the deepest longings of someone’s heart.
And not just the romantic ones. The aching-for-purpose ones.
The please-see-me ones. The I’m-not-okay ones.
It’s what made me such a good friend. A cheerleader, even, for others.
Now that I knew what it was, it didn’t seem right. How could I be around mortals day in and day out knowing things about them I shouldn’t?
It felt invasive. Like reading someone’s diary without permission. Except the diary was their soul, and I couldn’t not read it. The older I got, the stronger that power had become.
At least here, I could mute it. Most of the time. Sometimes the whispers were so strong that they broke through.
And if I left, who would protect the mortals from themselves?
“What are you thinking, Demi?” Hestia asked delicately.
I was thinking I couldn’t leave. How could I face the mortal world again? People would ask too many questions about where I’d been. People would also wonder why I hadn’t suffered permanent injuries.
“Well, there is a cute Roman demigod who works on the third floor as Daedalus’s apprentice.
Maybe we could have something,” I said nervously, not even knowing what I was saying.
Because I wasn’t even sure it was possible for me to fall in love.
My father was right; I’d done something to my heart.
Something not even I could undo. There was only one person who could, and I didn’t know who that was. Or if he even existed.
But I was desperate not to reenter the mortal world.
So desperate I was rambling and willing to consider dating someone I’d never even talked to.
But Daedalus’s apprentice was the only Roman I could think of in the building.
I always thought it was weird when Greeks married Greeks.
Sure, there was a separation of bloodlines, but we were all related, even if just distantly.
Uh, hello? The Titans were all siblings.
“He is not the person for you,” Father stated before a look passed between him and Hestia. Another one of those wreck-my-world looks.
I dug my fingers into the happy chair, and it giggled again. This time I did not echo the sentiment. This was no laughing matter.
“What is that look you keep giving each other? Just tell me.” My mouth was so dry I could barely speak.
A cup of tea zoomed my way. It smelled like a blend of Hestia’s Nothing Good Comes Easy flavor. That was one of her favorite sayings.
My coaches used to say that, and I believed them. But things had come easily to me. Too easily.
I swatted away the cup of tea like I would an annoying fly, but it was persistent and kept flitting in front of me until I grabbed it. A generous amount sloshed onto my muumuu. The fabric was so dark and layered, I barely felt the warmth of the liquid on my skin.
“Your great-grandfather is sending you on a quest,” Father said.
“What kind of quest?” I vaguely remembered that Zeus had passed a law restricting quests. At least when it came to slaying people and animals. That gave me a little comfort. Very little.
“A quest to find love, of course. To unlock your heart,” he said with meaning. Too much meaning.
Crap. He really did know what I had done. Apparently Zeus did too. That seemed like an invasion of privacy. A girl should be able to lock her heart if she wanted to.
I opened my mouth to speak, but Father wasn’t done. He seemed determined to get it out in one breath.
“You must find love by the time the August full moon rises.”
“What? It’s almost June. I can’t just fall in love with someone that fast. It goes against my guidebook and better judgment. And . . . well . . . you know.”
He gave me a knowing look but didn’t address the whole heart-locking thing and how this complicated things. “I think that is his point and mine. Love is not about rules and guides.”
“You’re in on this quest thing?” I sneered.
“Yes, I am. And since we realize it is a short timeline, we have chosen where your quest begins.”
My hands were shaking so badly that the cup of tea I was holding looked like a turbulent ocean.
“Where?” I loathed asking. But I knew there were consequences for saying no to a god.
And not just any god—my great-grandfather, Zeus.
I’d like to think he wouldn’t turn me into a plant or a swan or even serve up some poetic justice like gods loved to do, but I was putting nothing past him.
Father took the tea from me, and it vanished instantly. Then he reached for my hands, but I refused to give them to him. Instead, I clasped them together, trying to keep the contents of my stomach down.
“Demi,” he whispered. “Please don’t pull away from me. This is not a punishment. It is important that you understand mortals need the hope of love, even when it seems impossible. Love defies rules. That is the beauty of it. Deep down, I think you know that.”
I curled into myself, feeling exactly as if I were being punished and stripped of all my armor.
“This quest, if you complete it, will bring you the happiness you seek,” Father promised.
I looked up, hollow, wondering if it wouldn’t be so bad to be a swan. “How do you know what I seek?” I’d buried myself so long ago, I wasn’t even sure what I wanted or who I was.
Father reached out and swiped the pad of his thumb across my cheek. A gesture so gentle, I almost lost it. “I hear whispers and hearts too. Sometimes it’s your mother’s voice.”
“She speaks to you?” My voice cracked.
“They are past echoes of all the hopes and dreams she had for you. This is not the life she imagined for you. She would hate to see you so unhappy. I hate seeing you so unhappy.”
I wouldn’t say I was unhappy. Just . . . suspended. I felt as if I lived in a void. In an in-between, not belonging anywhere. Would this quest truly help me find where I belonged? How was falling in love the answer?
I could hear my mother say that belonging is usually not a place—it’s a person.
“Demi,” Father continued. “I know you believe I don’t understand you. But I understand you better than anyone. I locked my heart after Psyche asked for a separation.”
I stared at him wide-eyed. Stunned into silence.
“Yes, I have that power too,” he confirmed. “I didn’t think anyone would be able to unlock it, but then I met your mother.”
“She unlocked your heart. She was your true love?” I squeaked out, hardly believing it. Honestly, all this time, I thought maybe he’d used his powers on her. But it was she who used hers on him. Oh. Wow.
“She was. She is.” Father’s eyes misted over.
No wonder Psyche hated her—and me—so much.
“Then why did you leave us?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“That is a story for another day. Now is the time for the story you were meant to have play out.”
“What does that mean?” He made it sound like I had been placed in the wrong story.
Father shook his head, refusing to elaborate.
Resigned, I sighed. “Fine. Where does this quest begin?” I was thinking it would be Greece—the homeland, so to speak. So it shocked me when Father replied, “Jackson Hole.”
“Wyoming?” I spat out a laugh. “Who finds love in Wyoming?” Not just love. True love.
Hestia raised her hand. “I fell in love there once.” She fanned herself dramatically. “That cowboy. Wow. Amazing. He could—”
“Perhaps we could save that story,” Father interrupted her.
Was I ever glad. I had a feeling I was about to hear something I’d never be able to scrub from my mind. And here the world thought Hestia was a virgin. I had a sneaking suspicion that it was just another thing mortals had gotten wrong.
Hestia giggled. “You’re right. This is not about my escapades.”
Thank the Titans for that.
“So, who’s in Wyoming?” I knew he wouldn’t tell me, but a girl had to try.
Father sat up straight and cleared his throat.
Hestia reached out and took my hand—a preemptive strike.
This. Could. Not. Be. Good.
“That is for you to discover. A special season of Love Unscripted is filming there, and you will be a cast member,” Father said casually. Way too casually, considering the bomb he’d just detonated.
All I could think was, OH. HADES. NO. I’d rather be an orchid for eternity. I could learn how to photosynthesize. Because this I knew: Roman Archer, the so-called Architect of Love, was never going to be part of my quest to find love.
He was the reason I’d locked my heart in the first place.