2. Apollo
“Moping again, brother dear?”
Recognizing the feminine voice, Apollo glanced up. “I am not moping, Artemis.”
Smirking, his twin sister sat on the empty chair across from him. She drummed her perfectly-manicured nails—pale pink with white tips, which matched her tweed suit jacket—on the glass table top. “It’s a lovely day,” she said, gesturing around them. “Your garden looks splendid as always, thanks to your staff, I gather?”
Indeed, it was a beautiful day, and the gardens were marvelous, a veritable spring paradise. In his palace on Mount Olympus, after all, he could have the weather as he wished. Why, with a snap of his fingers, he could turn this all into a barren winter wasteland, which frankly would match his mood right now.
But that would only prove Artemis right, and why would he want that?
“Yes, my staff does great work.”
“Unlike their master? Lazing about, doing nothing?”
Anyone else who heard them bickering like this would have thought them to be bitter enemies, but that was far from the truth. He loved his sister, and this was their love language. “Are you trying to steal my people again? Do you need one of them to take that stick out of your ass? Besides, I’m not being lazy.”
“So, if you’re not being lazy, and you’re not moping, why are you sitting out here on this beautiful day, doing nothing but staring out at the sea?”
Apollo bit his lip. “You’re right. I am being lazy.” Hopefully, that would deter her from trying to find out the truth. “Now, go away.”
She clucked her tongue. “You should be more responsible, Apollo. Attend to your duties and your work.”
“And what are my duties, exactly? Unlike the old days, humans hardly need us, not with their modern science and tech.”
Back when the world was still young, Apollo, like many gods and goddesses, had responsibilities. One of his duties, for example, was protecting crops and herds. He was also a patron god of the arts—music, dance, poetry and the like were under his guidance. Humans would pray to him to ask for help or inspiration.
But those were the good old days. Some say humans as a species matured, and like a child who grew up, they no longer needed their parents. Others argued that it was the gods and goddesses, tired of the never-ending cycle of life and death, who withdrew from the humans. It was much too long ago, and neither side could remember which was the truth. Or perhaps, at least in Apollo’s own belief, it was a bit of both. Whatever the true explanation, most of the gods no longer meddled in human affairs.
Perhaps if Apollo had stayed away from the earthly realm, he wouldn’t be in this mess.
“You missed the council meeting this morning,” Artemis pointed out. “For the second time. Why didn’t you show up? Don’t you know how important it is? We’re deciding the fate of our kind. I would think you would take more interest in that.”
Oh, he bet Artemis had to be loving this whole council business. She wasn’t happy unless she was busy with a task at hand. Being idle drove her crazy, and she loved nothing more than to “help” people—though some may see it more as meddling. While she didn’t say it outright, Apollo guessed the humans pulling away from gods had affected her more than most. So, it was no wonder she jumped on the chance at reporting for any kind of “official” duty.
“Pfft. It’s not like we’ve achieved anything so far, sitting in those boring meetings.”
“It’s still important. We need to figure out who’s going to rule Olympus and what to do with Zeus.”
“He can rot, for all I care,” he spat.
After all, the former king of the gods had done a great injustice to Apollo’s best friend, Hades. Back in the day, after they had defeated the Titans, the three eldest gods, Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon had drawn lots to divide the world. It turned out, Zeus had cheated his brothers in order to obtain Olympus for himself. When the truth had come out a few weeks ago, Zeus was stripped of his titles and roles and locked away as the other gods debated what to do with him and the now-empty throne. With eleven gods on the council, needless to say, it was difficult to get a consensus.
“I agree, which is why you can’t miss any more meetings. And don’t think I don’t notice you looking disinterested the whole time when you’re there.” She let out an exaggerated breath. “You should participate more in the discussions and stop staring into space like you’d rather be elsewhere.”
Despite his affection for his sister, her whole go-getter, type-A personality really got on his nerves sometimes, and it was especially grating today. “And you need to get laid,” he shot back without a thought.
“Is that your answer to—oh, for crying out loud, are you moping over some human again?” Artemis slapped her hand on her forehead with an audible smack. “Have you learned nothing from the last time? After what happened with her?”
“Don’t,” he snapped.
Had anyone else brought her up, Apollo would have brought down the wrath of heaven on them. But this was his beloved sister, who had witnessed the disaster firsthand and the aftermath.
“Apollo—”
“This isn’t about a human.” Technically true. He hated lying to his sister, but if she found out the truth—and why he was distracted—he would never hear the end of it. She was like a dog with a bone sometimes.
“But it is about you being hung up on a female.” She snorted. “I swear, Apollo, if it is, I won’t be around to pick up the pieces this time.”
He smirked at her. “Yes, you will. Because you love me, and I’m your favorite brother.”
“My only brother. Argh!” Artemis shot to her feet, hands fisted at her sides. “I’ll leave you to your brooding or whatever the heck it is you’re doing. But promise me, you’ll be at the next council meeting, and you’ll have your head screwed on straight.”
“Right. I promise.”
She sighed and then placed a hand on his shoulder. “I shall see you soon, brother.” And with that, she disappeared.
Finally, he was alone once more, so he went back to doing what he had been doing before his sister interrupted him—allowing his thoughts to be consumed by a certain shifter.
Geri.
He scrubbed a hand down his face. And he thought the aftermath of their first encounter had turned him into a fool. But it was the second one that had turned him utterly mad. Because this time, he had left the ball in her court, and here he was, pining away like some idiot, waiting for her to call.
Would he ever?—
Apollo, I need you.
A tug in his gut made him clutch at his stomach and his eyelids shut tight. The ground beneath him disappeared, only to return in a split second. He took a deep breath, allowing the chilly air to fill his lungs.
Chilly?
Just a moment ago, he’d been basking in the fresh spring sunshine, but now he was definitely somewhere else. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the vast whiteness around him.
Snow. And trees. Lots of them. Most of them pine trees, from the smell of them.
“What the fuck?”
“It’s me.”
His heart did a little skip in his chest at the sound of her familiar voice.
“Geri?” Spinning around, he came face-to-face with the object of his fantasies and the bane of his waking thoughts. “Where the hell are we?”
“Anchorage. Alaska. I…called for you.”
Oh right.
He cast a spell so that the moment she did call him, he would be instantly transported to her side.
Perhaps that piece of magic he had left with Geri had been too powerful.
Oops.He’d never done it before, and he didn’t think he would be literally summoned at her words.
But she called for him, and he was here now.
“Oh, so…” He took a step toward her. “What can I do for you?” He raised an eyebrow meaningfully at her. “Got another itch to scratch?”
“My grandmother died.”
Every iota of his libido evaporated at that one sentence. “Oh fuck.” Raking his fingers through his hair, he took a step toward her. “Geri, I’m?—”
She held up her hands. “No.”
“No?”
“I don’t need your condolences.” Her lips tightened. “Just the truth.”
“Oh? In that case, you look like shit.” He meant that in the best way possible of course, because she looked worse than shit. The dark circles under her eyes nearly occupied half her face, and her hair looked like she hadn’t showered for days.
She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “No, what I need is for you to give me an honest answer.”
“And what might the question be?”
“Can you bring my grandmother back from the dead?”
It took a moment for her words to sink in, but even then, he wasn’t sure he heard her question right. “E-excuse me?”
“Well? Can you?”
Apollo paused, wanting to approach this delicately. “Geri, I know you’re grieving?—”
“Just answer me.” She gritted her teeth. “Can. You. Bring. Her. Back.”
“Geri, you don’t?—”
“Please.”
He didn’t know why, but there was something about the way she said the one word—how his ears picked up the slight crack in her usual confidence—that made his heart clench. “Why do you think I have the ability to do this?”
“I heard…things. Back in the Underworld.”
“What things?”
“That you could do it. Bring the dead back.”
He blew out the breath he’d been holding since she asked her question. “You’re talking about Hyacinthus.”
“Hyacinthus?”
“He was…a friend of mine. One of my dearest friends.” Hyacinthus had died centuries ago, yet the memory of what happened—and the pain—remained fresh.
Good.
Because he swore he would never forget his faithful friend. They had been as close as brothers; in fact, some people thought them to be lovers, but that was pure gossip, of course. Hyacinthus had been a prince and a general in one of the armies that fought the Titans and saved Apollo’s life, at great risk to his own.
“And? How did he die?”
“I killed him.” Tension grew taut in the air, like a rubber band about to snap. “I was teaching him how to play this stupid game with a discus. I threw it far up into the heavens, and the damned idiot chased after it and…” He cleared his throat. “It struck him in the head.” It was such a senseless death, considering how many battles the prince had survived.
She cocked her head to the side. “So, you didn’t kill him. It was an accident.”
“Which I caused.” A fact which he never forgot. He’d killed many people in his immortal life—vanquished enemies, meted out justice to terrible people, and indirectly through mortals who thought he wanted a sacrifice—but he’d never caused the death of a friend. The gut-wrenching pain he felt in his chest that day still haunted him like a phantom limb. “I tried to revive him, tried a lot of things, even gave him ambrosia, which didn’t work. I did everything I could and looked into every possibility. But The Fates decided that he would remain dead.”
The she-wolf pursed her lips. “Then why did I hear those souls in the Underworld say you did?”
He shrugged. “It’s all gossip, I’m afraid. In the end, the only way I could ensure he never ‘died’ was to grow a flower from the blood he spilled on that field. You’ve probably heard of it—the hyacinth.”
Geri’s pretty face turned pale. “Y-you said you tried other things. H-how about Hades? Could he?—”
“No.” He shook his head. “Hades was very clear that he couldn’t do that, not even for me.”
“Th-there has to be a way.” To his surprise, Geri stepped forward and grabbed him by his shirt. “You said you looked at other possibilities? Did you get to try them?”
“I did, but…” He shook his head. “There were too many options, lots of leads, but eventually, I had to accept that he was gone.” Gently, he pried her hands away from his shirt. “Geri, I know it’s hard now, but once the initial grief has passed, you’ll also accept?—”
“No!” Her tone was fierce and her eyes dry as she wrenched away from him. “I can still bring her back. There has to be a way. Tell me about the other possibilities.”
“Possibilities?”
“You said you looked into them. Other ways to revive the dead. Tell me what they are.”
Apollo stared at her—at that beautiful face and those deep gray eyes. A strange pang hit him in the chest because that look on her face looked so familiar—he’d seen it on himself long ago when he’d grieved for his friend. He also remembered what it had been like the first few days after Hyacinthus’s death—the grief that consumed him, as well as the desperation that had driven him mad.
Perhaps Geri, too, would need to channel her energy into something to help her find her way through this dark time.
An idea struck him.
“It’s been a while, and I can’t recall all of them.” He scratched at his head. “I never did confirm if these methods were true. And frankly, it might take you a very long time to investigate them all.”
“How long did it take you?”
“A few weeks maybe?—”
“I can do it.”
“But that was using my connections, not to mention, my powers.” He snapped his fingers, and he disappeared for a moment, then came back with something in his hand—a bright purple hyacinth from his garden back in Olympus—and offered it to her. “Can shifters magically transport themselves from one place to another?”
Her nostrils flared, and she waved his hand away. “I’ll find a way.”
“It’ll be faster with my help.”
“No.” She backed off, like a scared kitten. “Absolutely not. I can do this on my own. Just tell me where to go.”
“Oh no.” He shook his head. “You think I’m just going to let you traipse around the world looking for the key to defeat death?”
“I don’t need—or want—your protection,” she huffed. “I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can,” he said. “But you do need my knowledge and my contacts.”
“So, give it to me.”
Smirking, he took a step toward her, tempted to touch her obstinate chin. “There are many things I’d like to give to you, Geri, but not this.”
“You stubborn ass!” Her chin jutted out even further. “Just tell me what I need to know, and you can go back to whatever it was you were doing. You never have to see me again.”
“Nuh-uh.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ll do this with my help or not at all.”
As they stared at each other, Apollo couldn’t help but admire her—not just the symmetry of her pretty face, but the courage and defiance in her eyes. But he was not going to be the first to budge.
She huffed, and her hands fisted at her sides. “I—fine. You can come along.”
Apollo sighed inwardly with relief.
“Now, where do we go first?”
“Wait, you want to go right now?” he asked, incredulously. “Don’t you want to get ready? Maybe tell your relatives where you’re going or settle your grandmother’s affairs.”
“There’s no time to waste. Apollo, I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “I can’t bear the thought of never seeing her again.”
Her pain resonated within him, and he so desperately wanted it to go away, for her to be free of such emotions. “I’ve heard of a place,” he began gently, “an island in the Philippines called Siquijor. They say it’s home to some of the most powerful witches in the world.”
“Siquijor?” she repeated, her voice tinged with curiosity. “Do you think they could help us?”
“I think so.”
She furrowed her brow, her gaze searching his eyes. “But are they powerful enough to bring back the dead?”
“Some months after I stopped my search for a way to revive Hyacinthus, one of my contacts came to me and told me a legend about a mystical artifact called the Siquijor Stone,” he explained. “They say it has the power to resurrect the dead.”
“The Siquijor Stone?”
“It sounds unbelievable, but I trust my source.” He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I know someone who can help us—a water nymph from that island.”
“If it’s our best chance to bring my grandmother back, then we have to try.”
“She lives in a place called Capilay Spring.” Apollo held out his hand. “So? Will you let me take you there?”
Several heartbeats passed as he held his breath, waiting for her answer.
The she-wolf did not say anything, but instead, took his hand.