The Goddess Inheritance Page 8

  He hadn’t kissed me, though. Some of the things he’d said hadn’t sounded right—they hadn’t sounded like Henry. Something had felt wrong this entire time. I’d dismissed it as a consequence of my vision, of him barely hanging on to this world in the first place, but what if it wasn’t?

  Cold horror filled me. The only person capable of mimicking him so completely—

  Cronus.

  Of course. Of course. I was an idiot, and all this time he’d played me. He’d taken care of Milo. He’d fed him when he wouldn’t take a bottle from anyone else. He’d rocked him to sleep. He’d stood with me for hours, watching Milo’s chest rise and fall steadily.

  “Come on,” said James gently, taking my trembling hands. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “I can’t.” I stared at the mockery that was Cronus in Henry’s form, and hot rage unlike anything I’d ever felt coursed through me. “I can’t leave Milo.”

  “There’s nothing you can do for him here,” said James. “Ava will make sure nothing happens to him.”

  Despite my bone-shaking fury, I knew Cronus wouldn’t hurt him either. Whatever reason he had for doing this, he’d been good to Milo so far, and James was right. There was nothing I could do, not when I couldn’t so much as touch the baby.

  “We’ll go to the council about it as soon as we find Rhea,” promised James. “But right now I need to talk to you, and we can’t do it in front of him.”

  I glared at Cronus over James’s shoulder. “He’s not listening. He’s practically a zombie.”

  “He’s always listening.” He touched my shoulder. “Come on, before he snaps back and makes things worse.”

  In other words, before he could threaten me into silence or inaction. After saying a silent goodbye to Milo, I closed my eyes and slid out of the nursery, fighting through the quicksand to return us to our reality.

  After the salty Mediterranean breeze, the stale air of the plane smelled foreign. Beside me, James looked as pale as I felt, and hot tears ran down my face. James silently offered me a napkin from his tray. When I didn’t accept, he dabbed my cheeks for me.

  “I should have known,” I whispered.

  “It isn’t your fault,” said James. “Cronus could have fooled any of us, and you needed hope that Henry was out there somewhere. It isn’t unreasonable. It’s human.”

  “I knew something was off. He kept saying strange things, he wouldn’t kiss me, and the way he could hold Milo when I couldn’t touch him...” I shook my head. “I should have known.”

  “You do now, that’s the important part,” said James. “I need to know what you told him.”

  A lump formed in my throat. “Everything.”

  I’d told him about Rhea. I’d told him the council’s plans to fight. Everything they’d trusted me with, I’d blabbed directly to the enemy. Once again, because of my stupidity, any advantage we’d had over Cronus was gone.

  James hugged me, and I stiffened. I didn’t deserve his sympathy. “It will be okay,” he said, an empty reassurance. Regardless of whether or not there was something he could do, he couldn’t guarantee everything would turn out all right. He couldn’t promise me that Henry would live or I would ever hold Milo or that the council would recapture Cronus and make sure Calliope never hurt anyone again. He couldn’t make up for the countless lives already lost because of me.

  “I’m never going to see them again,” I whispered.

  “Yes, you will. I’ll make sure you do.”

  I curled up in my seat and rested my head against his shoulder, lost within myself. I could only take so much before I broke, and Calliope knew it. Cronus knew it. Staying strong for my mother while she’d been dying had been easy—it was staying strong for myself that had been impossible. Now I had no one to stay strong for, not even Milo. Not even Henry.

  James was staying strong for me, though. I owed it to him—and to Henry and Milo and my mother and everyone—to try not to crumble. I swallowed, and my dry throat protested. “Did he know you were there?”

  He shook his head. “He can see you, but only because he expects you and has already forged that connection with you. He’ll know someone came because you were talking to me, but unless he figures out who I was, he won’t be able to see me if we go back again.”

  “How did you know it wasn’t Henry?”

  “I didn’t,” said James, running his fingers through my hair. “Not until I saw him. The only question is why?”

  My chin trembled. “I did something really stupid.”

  “How stupid?” said James, his hand stilling.

  I pressed my lips together, fighting the urge to slip back into the sunset nursery. “I promised Cronus I would stay with him and—and be his queen if he didn’t kill anyone. And if he gave me Milo.”

  James exhaled. “Oh, Kate.”

  “I’m sorry.” I tried to draw away from him, but his arm around my shoulders tightened. “I’m so sorry, James. I had no idea. I thought— I didn’t know what I was thinking—”

  “You were thinking you had a chance to do what you always do,” said James with kindness I didn’t deserve. “You were going to give yourself up in order to save the people you love. It’s a bit of a problem with you, you know.”

  I sniffed. “I just wanted to see Milo again.”

  “I know,” he murmured, kissing the top of my head. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

  “But all of those people—Athens—”

  “—would have happened no matter what you did. Cronus always intended on causing as much destruction as possible. That has nothing to do with you, Kate, I promise.” He paused. “In fact, your deal could work for us.”

  “How?” I wiped my cheeks with my sleeve. “He knows we’re going to Rhea to ask for her help. He knows she can heal Henry, and the first chance Cronus gets, he’s going to kill him.”

  “Probably,” said James. “We’ll make sure he never has that chance though, and in the meantime, we have a direct line to Cronus.”

  “He won’t listen to reason.”

  “No, but he might listen to you. Especially if you can convince him you’re still on his side.”

  A wave of nausea swept over me. “I was never on his side.”

  “Doesn’t matter when he doesn’t know that,” said James. “He’s always willing to believe the worst in us. Use that against him. Say you want to rejoin him, but Walter’s holding you hostage. You want to be with Milo, so it won’t even really be a lie.”

  Unless he could see the lie in a truth, like Henry could. “He’ll come after you,” I said. “He’ll attack Olympus.”

  James chuckled. “Last time Cronus tried, he wound up in the hottest, deepest pit on earth. I doubt he’ll give it another go.”

  But no matter how hard he was trying to convince me that it wasn’t a big deal, I heard the worry in his voice. This was his entire family, too. This was his home, and he was gambling it all on what? On the slim chance Cronus might be willing to listen to me? If James was right and Cronus had heard everything that had gone on in the nursery, then he would know I knew. And he would know I was angry.

  “What if it doesn’t work?” I whispered, finding his hand and lacing my fingers through his. A friendly touch. Nothing more, but I needed that much, and so did he.

  James rested his head against mine. “Then we’ll just have to figure something else out.”

  Six hours and one connecting flight later, we touched down in Zimbabwe. James hailed a cab on the curbside of the airport, and soon enough we were on a remote road traveling to a place I couldn’t pronounce no matter how many times James tried to teach me.

  “You’ll get it eventually,” he said with a chuckle, but after a moment he turned serious. “None of us have contacted Rhea in a very long time. I have no idea how she’ll react, and I can’t make you any promises.”

  “I don’t need promises,” I said, but my insides churned. What if I couldn’t convince Rhea to help us? What if she wouldn’t heal Henry
?

  I straightened in the back of the hot cab. No matter what it took, no matter what I had to promise her, I would find a way to make this happen. I would find a way to save Henry. If Rhea was really so unconcerned about the rest of the world that she wasn’t willing to step up and help us fight...

  She would. She had to.

  The Zimbabwe landscape, for the most part, looked surprisingly familiar. Drier and wilder, with scragglier underbrush, but closer to home than I’d expected. I pressed my forehead against the cracked window of the cab. A few people walked along the side of the road holding signs made out of battered cardboard, but the cabdriver sped past before I could see what they said.

  We stopped at the edge of a village that looked more like a slum than a town. James held my hand tightly as we walked down the narrow way between cobbled-together buildings, some of which leaned dangerously to one side. Trash lined the makeshift streets, and a few children dressed in worn clothes began to follow us.

  “Don’t we have anything we can give them?” I said. James paused long enough to take off his backpack, and he pulled out several apples that I was positive hadn’t been in there before. He handed one to each child, but the crowd continued to grow, and he frowned.

  “Kate, I want to help as badly as you do, but we’re on a timetable.”

  “We just wasted over a day flying when you could have dropped us off much closer,” I said. “We have a few minutes for this.”

  James continued to hand them out. “You know how to create. Reach in and help me.”

  “Actually, I don’t,” I said, but I reached into the bag and tried anyway. What was I supposed to do, just imagine it was there? I closed my eyes and pictured a juicy yellow apple. And then—

  Nothing. Perfect.

  James chuckled. “You’re the worst goddess I’ve ever met.”

  “Calliope’s the worst goddess you’ve ever met. I’m just the most incompetent.” I scowled. “It’d help if anyone bothered to teach me how to do things, you know.”

  “Hey, I showed you how to think.” He grinned, and I shot him a look. “In all seriousness, everyone’s sort of busy right now, but I’ll see what I can do. Most of it takes decades to learn.”

  We didn’t have decades, not if I had any chance of helping in the war. James handed out a few more apples, but the crowd continued to build. Were they really so hungry that an apple was enough to stop what they were doing and come running?

  A child shouted in a language I didn’t understand, but instinctively I knew what he was saying to the boy he wrestled. Mine.

  “Whoa, hey, hold up,” called James, trying to wade through the wide-eyed boys and girls to reach them. “No fighting, there’s plenty more where—”

  “Calm down, my children,” murmured a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Immediately the boys stilled, and James let out a deep breath. He didn’t need to say a word for me to know what was going on. Rhea was here.

  The crowd parted, and a girl who couldn’t have been older than thirteen walked barefoot down the path. Her eyes stood out against her dark skin, and she wore a colorful scarf around her head. She moved with inhuman grace, and though she blended into the crowd purely by her appearance, she radiated warmth and comfort. Not power and pain like Cronus. As she passed, the children reached out to touch her, as if that alone could cure illness or bring them luck.

  “Grandmother,” said James reverently, and as she approached us, he knelt down. “I’ve missed you.”

  Rhea touched his cheek. “Hermes,” she murmured. “I have been waiting for you. It has been far too long.”

  “I meant to come sooner, but...” James trailed off. There was no excuse for not coming to see this girl. This Titan. “I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize. You’re here now. Stand,” she said, and James did so, slipping his hand into hers. “Let us speak privately.”

  They walked past me as if I weren’t even there. James seemed to be in a trance, and I hesitated. Should I follow?

  “You, too, daughter of Demeter.” Rhea’s words whispered through the air, and my feet moved without me telling them to. In that moment I would have followed her off the end of the world if she wanted me to.

  “We don’t go by those names anymore,” said James, and I trotted to catch up to them as they rounded a corner. None of the children followed, but every person we passed stared at us openly. Because of Rhea? Or because James and I were strangers?

  She led us to what amounted to a large blue shanty with a white cross painted on the sign above. We entered, and James had to duck to avoid hitting the top of the doorway. Inside, instead of the church I expected, was a hospital.

  Over two dozen men, women and children rested in cots and makeshift beds shoved so close together that the doctors and nurses—or at least I assumed they were doctors and nurses—had no room to slide between them. Instead, each patient was faced with their head near the aisle and feet to the wall. Several were coughing, and a few looked so frail and close to death that I tried to memorize their faces. Would I see them in the Underworld? Would I even have the chance to return if Henry didn’t make it? What would happen to the dead then?

  No. I couldn’t think like that. Rhea would help us.

  “This way,” she said, and we walked through the narrow aisle to a door toward the back. I expected an office, but instead we stepped into a cramped garden blooming with all sorts of flowers and herbs I didn’t recognize. My mother would’ve loved this place. “Now, why have you come?”

  “You know why,” said James, albeit respectfully, and he sat down on a crate that served as a bench. “Cronus has destroyed Athens. Hera has abandoned us to fight with him. Hades is on the brink of fading. We are desperate, and we need your help.”

  Rhea began to tend a bush with tiny white flowers. “You know my stance on war,” she said. “I cannot support it in any way.”

  “Please.” James screwed up his face. Going against her was clearly painful for him. “If you don’t help us return Cronus to Tartarus, he will destroy humanity and kill us if we’re lucky. If we’re not, we’ll spend the rest of eternity as his slaves. Without Hera, we aren’t strong enough to fight him on our own.”

  Placing the blossoms she picked into a basket, Rhea said nothing. After nearly a minute, James’s shoulders slumped, and I knew it was hopeless. Not even the threat of extinction was enough to convince Rhea.

  I scowled. It was one thing to not want to fight on either side of a war—I wasn’t crazy about wielding a sword and running screaming out onto a battlefield either. But this was different. “We’re not asking you to fight,” I said. “We’re asking you to help us prevent more deaths.”

  “I know my husband,” said Rhea. “If I were to get involved, I would be forced to fight, and I will not hurt a living creature no matter their intentions. That includes Cronus.”

  “Even though he’ll kill billions of people and nearly the entire council in order to get what he wants?” I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Getting upset wouldn’t help matters. “You know as well as I do that inaction isn’t supporting peace. It’s turning a blind eye to what’s really going on. And without your help, we will lose.”

  James reached for my hand, but I pulled away. If he wasn’t willing to fight, then I would.

  Rhea slowly turned toward us. Her serenity vanished, replaced with frigid disapproval, and I steeled myself against it. She could dislike me as much as she wanted. I wasn’t going to back down.

  “I would be no help to you regardless of what I did. My husband will not listen to reason,” said Rhea. “I will not raise a hand against anyone. My children are much better served by what I do here.”

  “But your children are dying,” I said. “You could stop that. You could save their lives—you’re the only one who can. If you don’t, they’ll die, and it’ll be because of you.”

  The moment the words left the tip of my tongue, I knew it was the wrong thing to
say, but I couldn’t take it back now. I glanced at James, a silent apology and plea for him to help me. He stayed silent.

  Rhea straightened, her powerful gaze focused directly on me. “No, daughter of Demeter. They will die because of you.”

  My face burned, and it took everything I had not to run out of there as fast as I could. How did she know? Could she sense the guilt floating inside me, buoyed by every life already lost because of my stupidity? “My name is Kate. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”

  “Ignorance is not an excuse for the consequences that result because of it.”

  “You don’t think I realize that?” Hot tears stung my eyes. I’d never hated anyone as much as I hated Rhea in that moment. Not Walter. Not Calliope. Not even Cronus.

  No, that was wrong. I hated myself more than I could ever hate any of them.

  “He has my son.” My voice grew thick, and my hands trembled. “For some unfathomable reason, he wants me to be his queen—”

  “It is not unfathomable,” said Rhea with unnerving calm. “You showed him kindness and understanding when no one else has in millennia. Even the most blackened and twisted of souls cannot help but respond to compassion.”

  I hesitated. “How do you—”

  “I know everything I wish to know.”

  I bit my lip. “Then you must realize why this is so important to me. You know what I promised Cronus. You know what he’s been doing to me, the sick—”

  “I am aware,” said Rhea. “And you have my sympathy. Standing at his side does not make you his equal in his eyes, and it is a hard life, one you do not have the power to fight.”

  “I don’t, but you do,” I said. “Henry’s your son, right? He’s dying. He needs you, but instead you’re here with strangers—”

  “No one who walks this earth is a stranger to me.” Her eyes flashed, a strange combination of the sun and the ocean. “I am not neglecting my son. He knew the consequences of his actions when he committed to them, and it was a risk he was willing to take to save you.”

  I exhaled sharply. She wasn’t listening. She didn’t understand—or maybe she did, and she just didn’t care. “What about my son? He’s Henry’s, too, you know. And he’s your grandson. His name’s Milo, and he’s not even a week old. Why does he deserve to be raised by Cronus?”