Silenced (38 page)

There’s this bitch I sometimes hate. I like to call her time. As soon as we pile back into the tank to close the gap between us and the crossroads, she starts messing with me. It’s nothing new. She’s always doing this to me. The first time I got some, time speed up. It also got me a nick name, Five Minute Pike.

My last few moments with Sadie, she sped up again. In a moment I wanted to last as long as possible, time rejected my wish. It’s only now, as I ride toward my death. Toward the god that made, then cursed me, she gives me my wish. Only, it’s the wrong situation. The wrong time for time to go so fast.

It seems like we made the forty-five miles to the crossroads in record time. In seconds, not minutes. And, as our surroundings grow darker and quieter, all I can hear is time, laughing her ass off at me.

In the silence I almost hear her whisper,
it’s time
.

We come to a stop. The silence in the tank is filled with a hardness I can break a window with. We all sit there for several moments. Me, trying to swallow my terror.

I have to do this.

“You’ll go out first to open the crossroads…” Juliet says.

“We can’t let him go out there himself!” Kiwi says, a bite in her voice.

Juliet stares at her. “We went over this plan at the compound. I need you to stick to the plan. Can you do that?” She flips her hair.

Kiwi’s eyes narrow. A red spark goes off in them, I reach for her arm and squeeze. “She’s right. They won’t open for anyone but a siren. If the gods sense your presence, we came out here for nothing.”

She bites her lip. It’s sexy. I kind wish we had time for one more bang, but like I said, time is a bitch. At least nasty thoughts keep me from terrified ones.

“So, Pike will go out first,” Juliet repeats. “Open the crossroads. Soon as you summon Apollo, we’ll show ourselves.”

Hearing his name sets me ablaze. The bastard. The king of Muses. Total asshole. Cursed his own creations, beings meant to be bringers of light and creativity, to get out of a grudge with some bitchwax goddess. But that’s a tale for another time. Right now, I have to get ready.

As I reach for my guitar, my trident, and my sidearm—not that it will help—I say, “You know you never told us the rest of the plan. You make yourselves known, then what?”

Juliet shakes her head. “All you need to know of the plan is your part.”

I strap my trident across my back and rest my guitar against my shoulder. I stare at her, but she gives nothing away. I have a feeling the plan is to offer me up for the cure.

Not that I’m valuable.

But then again, there might be something I don’t know.

I take in a deep breath, peering out into the darkness. My heart beats like a mad masturbator. I try to regulate my breathing. It doesn’t work.

Kiwi rubs my shoulder. “You should really get going, Pike.”

I nod. Usually that comment would piss me off, but I’m too scared shitless for anger.

The brave hero that’s going to save the world.

As I make my way to the hatch, Kiwi grabs my hand and I glance back at her. The look on her face doesn’t help. It says,
don’t go.
It says,
we’ll never see each other again
. I force her expression out, and I picture Sadie. Before all this. Ribbons braided into her hair, flipping through the air, landing on the ice.

That image gives me some of my nuts back.

I squeeze Kiwi’s hands. I don’t say anything, because I don’t want to lie. Not more than I already am lying. Then, I duck through the hatch and step out into nothingness.

I can’t see. The silence from before has become total. Absolute, like an equation for fear. There is no light from the moon. There is no moon. The only thing I can do is smell salt in the air wafting in from what used to be Virginia Beach. But I don’t hear the waves crashing to the shore. And I can’t see the ocean from here.

I take in a deep breath and trudge forward. Toward what? I don’t know. I’m following intuition, hoping to get lucky. My hands are held in front of me like a blind man traipsing through the unknown. After several moments of walking, movement gets harder. It feels like I’m trudging through thick mud. With a grunt of effort, I try to keep moving. Eventually, I have to reach down with my hands and move my legs like I’m a big, black Ken doll. The longer this goes on, the harder it is to move. Soon, I come to a total stop. I peer up at the blank sky and grunt, trying to move my legs.

It’s a no go.

That’s when I hear the first hint of sound.

A low hum, like the buzz of fluorescent lights flicking on. I dart my head around, but I see nothing. I reach down and try to pull my legs free from whatever I’m stuck in, when I hear it again. This time it is louder.

Closer.

I remove my trident and pose for a fight, as much as I can with my useless legs. A shock of pure, golden bolt strikes the air like lightening. I close my eyes to protect my vision. I can see the glare through my eyelids. A mix of reddish, golden light. The buzz hums louder. A horde of mad hornets.

Slowly, I open my eyes and gasp. Stretched out before me are two intersecting, golden lines. They blaze golden. Pulse with life.

My breathing thickens, becomes in tune with those pulsing lines. In the center of those lines is a golden statue. He holds a golden lyre in his left hand, and a crown of laurel frames his head.

Apollo.

Even though I’ve never seen this, I know what it is. Why I can’t move.

This is the crossroads.

This is where I’ve come to die, or worse.

When I try to look directly at the statue, a weight presses down on me. Forces me to avert my eyes. The air around me is harder to breathe in. It’s like I’m standing under some pressurized system.

Like my skin is about to get ripped off.

I suck in as much air as I can and, moving like a wooden doll, twist my guitar so that it’s in front of me. I grit my teeth from the effort. When I’m finally able to place my hands on the strings, I let my power flow out of me and into my weapon.

Gip pulses with it, almost vibrates out of my hands. When it’s fully charged, it stops and I almost smile. The power always makes me a little giddy. Then, I start plucking a tune that I never learned, but has always been in my blood.

It’s intricate. Elegant. And sets me on fire with lust.

A paean. A hymn to the motherfucker that created me with a thought.

As the music dies down, the air grows thinner. It’s easier to breathe. I can move. I walk along the pulsing lines of light, my skin buzzing with power. I sling the guitar back against my shoulder. Rumbling fills the air. The earth starts to quake as the statue of Apollo slowly twirls until its facing me.

I pause for the briefest second before moving forward. They are letting me in, I have gained access to the crossroads. Now comes the hard part. I’m about to signal for Juliet and Kiwi to come out and meet me when a short figure walks out from behind the statue.

She wears a white hood and is pulsing with that same blinding, golden light. She stares at me with a wicked half smile on her cherry lips.

The air leaves my lungs and I fall to my knees. My head bows like I’m worshipping on Sunday with my momma. Only, I’m not in control of my movements.

She is.

And she isn’t Apollo.

Fear presses against me. I have no idea what’s going on. I can’t see her, but I can feel her walking toward me. The closer she gets, the more out of control I feel.

Have to signal Juliet and Kiwi.

Have to signal.

Have to…

Sweat drops down my brow, and just like that I forget what I’m supposed to do.

“Pike Richards,” a female voice says.

Her voice is like pine needles in my ears. Hard to listen to. Hard to focus. I feel a hand under my chin. She raises my head and stares at me with unnatural eyes.

Golden and red, swirling to the center of her eye, blending into ocean blue. They are beyond hypnotic. I feel my mind bending, pulling me out. Pushing something else in.

“I didn’t think you would make it,” she says.

It’s pain itself to focus on her voice. The only reason I can look at her is because she’s in a different form. A child’s form, the easy on the eyes form for a god or goddess to take.

“Many of my brother’s enemies didn’t want you to make it. They knew what we know. That you can change things.”

I open my mouth to speak, even though I know nothing will come out. Not until she allows it. She turns around and gazes toward the statue.

“You really are quite lucky I arrived before you. The gods meant all manner of things to be here. Grogans, dragons, lamias, nasty beasts! Most of them would have succeeded, I’m afraid.”

I scrunch my face up. The longer I have to listen to her speak, the more it feels like rusty nails are biting into my skull. I want to bring my hands up to cover my ears, but I’m stuck bowing like a little bitch.

She turns and frowns. “Is something wrong, dear?”

I grit my teeth, try to shake my head. Nothing.

“Oh! I wasn’t thinking. The power coming from you is unlike anything I’ve ever seen from a siren. My apologies.” She waves her hand across her throat. A brilliant, golden spark ignites. “Is that better?”

Her voice sounds normal now. No more pain. I still can’t move, but it’s progress. She raises a sculpted eyebrow at me when I don’t respond.

“Sorry, again. It’s been awhile since I’ve been around a descendent.” She raises her hand through the air, and I stand with it.

Without looking directly at her, I wipe the sweat from my brow and clear my throat.

“Yes, it’s better,” I say. “Thank you.”

She smiles. It’s almost as blinding as the golden light cast all around us.

“So polite.” She saunters over to me. Runs a finger down my forearm. “Such a nice specimen.”

I shiver. It feels like she hit me in the face with a big bag of the creeps. She’s beautiful, sure. Almost all of them are. But she looks like a beautiful child. She pulls her hand away and I breathe relief.

She laughs. The sound is the loveliest thing to hit my ears in I can’t remember how long.

“This form bothers you?”

I open my mouth, then hesitate. It never ends well to insult a goddess. Or to make her think you’re insulting her.

I clear my throat again. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

She frowns. “You, of all people, should recognize me.”

I open my mouth again, unable to do words. I bow my head because I’m not trying to die at the hands of what looks like a twelve-year-old.

It’s just not how I want my story told.

She laughs again. “Pike, you must learn to relax. You’ve probably only seen me in my true form.”

My eyes open wide. Fear clenches its fist around my throat. For a moment, I think she’s going to show it to me. Her true form. Better men than me have died looking upon a goddess. Her form doesn’t change.

Instead, she says, “I am Apollo’s sister.”

I shake my head at first, understanding washing over me slowly. Then I raise my eyebrows.

“Artemis,” I say.

“Very good.”

“Goddess of the hunt.”

She points her long, ivory-flecked finger at me. “I like you, Pike.”

I sigh. “Well, that’s a relief.”

She laughs again. I wait until she’s finished before I ask, “But why are you here? Why hasn’t Apollo come to meet me? He guards these crossroads.”

Her eyes darken. I take a step back. The gold and red of her eyes swirls into black and bruised purple.

“He no longer guards these crossroads.” She looks toward the nothingness in the sky. “But he will. That’s where you come in.”

I frown. “I don’t understand.”

She looks down, a sort of demented smile twisting her lips. “Do you know why you came to be cursed, Pike Richards?”

Anger rolls through me, but I keep my face composed. I don’t want to cross her. I don’t want her to see or guess how much I hate the gods. Especially her brother.

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“Apollo traded us, specifically my blood line, to get out of a grudge with Demeter and Zeus. He cursed us to cover up the fact that he failed to escort Persephone to Kore tower. He failed and now she has to spend half her time in the Underworld. Demeter demanded that something be done to Apollo. Apollo offered up his most precious Muses, the sirens, to be cursed in his place.”