CHAPTER
4
THAT HAD to be the last thing I was expecting Apollo to say.
“A demigod?” I repeated like I’d just learned to speak a few seconds ago. “A real, live demigod?”
“Opposed to a fake, dead one?” He chuckled, proud of himself, and then sighed when my eyes narrowed on him. “You used to have a sense of humor, Seth.”
“I used to have a lot of things,” I retorted. His features sharpened and his mouth opened like he wished to expand on that, but that wasn’t what was important here. “There hasn’t been a true demigod in thousands of years—not since mortals worshipped the gods.”
“That’s true. We agreed not to create anymore when we retreated to Olympus, but what is also true is that she’s not the only one.”
I stared at him, and then I barked out a short laugh. “There are demigods roaming the Earth? You know, this might have been good to know a year or so ago, when we all were getting our asses kicked.” Demigods were like the Apollyon, their powers second only to the gods’. They were major ass-kickers. And they were also like Pegasus. Supposedly it existed, but since it did so in Olympus, I’d never seen it. “Wait. This doesn’t make sense. I felt nothing around that girl. She sure as hell didn’t act like a demigod, and that doesn’t explain why she reminds me of…her.”
“Is it so hard to say her name?” Apollo asked. “I think a few minutes ago was the first time you’ve said her name since after you two fought Ares.”
My jaw ached from how hard I was grinding my molars.
“Whatever,” Apollo said, his attention returning to the godsforsaken ceiling fan chain. “Don’t talk about it. Be the best issues-boy you can be.”
I took a deep breath. It didn’t help. “I don’t have issues.”
He tipped his head back and roared with laughter. Paintings of the nearby Blue Ridge Mountains rattled. “You have more baggage than United Airlines. Cross that out. You have more issues than Medusa, and that woman makes the inside of a cat lady’s thoughts seem like a calming place.”
“I hate you.”
“You wound me straight to the heart, bud.”
My patience was just about the same as that of Cerberus after someone tried to take a squeaky toy away from him. “What about the girl, Apollo?”
He dropped down into the leather chair, his large form nearly swallowing it. “It’s a long story.”
“Go figure.”
That comment went largely ignored. “It all started with your birth, so there’s something else you can add to your mountain of suck.”
I wondered if there was an anti-god repellent and where I could find it.
“We knew the moment you were born that there would be the possibility of a God Killer, since Alexandria was on schedule to make an appearance a few years later. We didn’t know who among us was responsible for your birth, but we knew they’d want to use you for their own gain.”
“This walk down history lane is boring me.” I crossed my arms.
Unaffected, he eased himself closer to the bed, kicked his booted feet up on it, and stretched out leather-clad legs. “The risk of you two joining forced us to come up with a contingency plan in case the proverbial poo hit the fan.”
My brows knitted. There was something wrong with hearing Apollo use the word “poo” in a sentence.
“The Twelve agreed we had to do something,” he continued. The Twelve were the core of the Olympians, the most powerful. There were more gods, so many that no one could keep track of them, since they populated like rabbits, but the Twelve called the shots. “So we decided to do something none of us had done in thousands of years. We created twelve demigods.”
Twelve? Holy roasted Hades’s balls. “So, let me guess. You and Zeus, Hephaestus, Dionysus, Poseidon, Hermes, and Ares,” I spat that bastard’s name out, and then moved on, “got human women knocked up, and then Hera, Artemis, Athena, Aphrodite, and Demeter got pregnant?”
“That’s usually how making babies works,” he replied dryly. “Once our lovely ladies conceived, they transferred their offspring into mortal women. And before the twelve demigods were born, their abilities were bound so that they, until needed, would be nothing more than mortal. We couldn’t have demigods running amuck in the mortal world.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Demigods are more powerful than pures. You know that, Seth. The aether we pass onto them has not been diluted. They can control all the elements, including akasha. We could not allow them free reign.”
“Of course,” I muttered.
“Two of them were killed off immediately. Zeus got jealous and took out Hera’s child, and in retaliation, she snuffed out his. You know how those two can be.”
Gods.
“That left ten. Of course, as we know, Ares had a stick up his ass and was planning to turn the mortal world into his personal playground of carnage. He knew of our plan. He went right along with it. He knocked off four more during his little reign of terror, leaving six remaining. Of course, his own kid wasn’t one of the ones he killed.”
A muscle began to thrum along my jaw. During my time with Ares, he’d mentioned none of this. Not that I was surprised. There was a lot he hadn’t told me, and even more I simply hadn’t questioned, because I hadn’t cared. Not at first, at least. Tension crept into my shoulders. “If you had at least six demigods, why weren’t they used to help defeat Ares?”
He wiggled his booted feet. “Everything we do has a cosmic checks and balances system. The demigods’ powers can only be unbound two ways. At least six of them have to be in the same location at one time, and then it’s like a universal remote. All of their abilities are released naturally, like a system hitting critical mass. The second way is for us to release their powers, but that’s… that is messy, and we can only unbind the demigod who belongs to us. If we make that decision, it weakens us considerably and it would take time for us to recover. Another cosmic check and balance.”
Rolling my shoulders, I worked out the creeping tautness. “I still don’t get why you guys didn’t pull the demigods into the fight against Ares. They could’ve changed the—”
“The outcome wouldn’t have changed. Alex would still be where she is now. Moving on,” he said. “What matters now is that we need them to entomb the Titans. Besides the fact there are no longer twelve of us, we don’t have the cosmic mojo to do so. Now that they’ve escaped, we can’t put them back. The chore would fall to those who carry our blood. It won’t be easy for them. There are things they must accomplish first. You know, checks and balances, Seth.”
I didn’t care about the checks and balances. “Then get them together, power them up like it’s a game of Super Mario, and get this shit over with.”
“It’s not that simple. We don’t know where all of them are. We have our guesses.”
“How in the hell do you not know where they are?”
“When we bound their abilities, it also blocked us from sensing them. Over the years, we’ve been able to keep track of a few of them. It really depended on the god who fathered or mothered them and how interested they were in keeping tabs. Many weren’t.”
“Yeah, because you guys are paradigms of good parenting.”
He smirked as he crossed one ankle over the other. “Can’t argue that. But, we’re actively searching for them. Two that we did keep track of went missing about three weeks ago. They disappeared. Poof. Gone.”
This crap was causing my temples to pound. “Then how do you know there aren’t just four left now?”
“Because Athena and Hermes would’ve felt their loss. They haven’t. But we suspect that the Titans have something to do with their disappearance. Just because you can’t sense their blocked powers doesn’t mean the Titans can’t.”
“Why would the Titans take two demigods—the only things that can put them back in Tartarus—and not kill them?”
“Your favorite thing. Cosmic checks and balances.” He sighed as he smoothed a hand over the white shirt he wore, inspecting a gold button with an interest that bordered on weird as he spoke. “There was a reason why we couldn’t just kill the Titans when we overthrew them. We derived our power from them. They are our fathers and mothers, after all, and that works both ways. They’ve been entombed for thousands of years, Seth. They are weak now and they need to be charged up to enter Olympus, but they need a god or something of similar power to do so.”
“Something that carries undiluted power in them?”
Apollo nodded. “They can feed off the demigods, drain them of their aether like a daimon would, but not as messy and bitey. But you know there are different ways to drain aether, don’t you?”
I sucked in a sharp breath as I drew back. Yeah, I did, and that was a nice homerun slam against me. Asshole.
“So they just won’t kill them. They will capture them and feed off them until they are at full strength and the demigods… Well, they will be nothing but dried-out husks of what they used to be.” He kicked his feet off the bed and stood. “They already have two of them, and Josephine needs to be safely stowed away at the Covenant.”
“Because she’s a demigod?” I still couldn’t believe it—a freaking demigod. “An untrained, weak, virtually mortal demigod?”
“Mortals are not always weak, Seth. You will be wise to realize that. And there are other reasons why it’s imperative that Josephine remains safe.”