Venus

Hello. :) This next part comes right after the last. The only thing you missed was a brief introduction. They all arrive back at Olympus, but not for long.

It happened like the quick beat of a drum. The bizarre thought that ran through my head was that the three of us looked like a sick game of dominoes. Peter was standing next to me. Suddenly, he screamed. It was a truly horrible sound, bringing back the nightmare of the first time I had seen him. It was a sound filled with torture and loss. He slumped forward onto his knees, covering his ears desperately. A breath. Adam gasped, the air around him a quick storm of pain. He let his breath out in a wail of sadness, clamping his pale hands over his ears and buckling forward. A breath. The cannon ball ripped through my middle, bursting in my heart. I heard a screaming and I wondered if it was me. A voice filled my head. It was beyond pain and terror and chaos. It was the sound like the end of the world.
“PETER!” she screamed. And then it was silent.
I gasped, uncovering my ears. I looked up to Adam, bright tears were glittering on his cheeks. I turned to Peter. His hand was pressed against his heart, his head bowed. When he looked up, he was a drowned man. My soul tore along its seams to see the heartbreak on his face.
“Adam,” Peter choked.
“It was Haden,” Adam sobbed. “We're too late.”
Peter jumped up and ran forward. His face was a stone mask of ferociousness. I had only seen it that way once before, when he believed his sister was lost forever. I took Marc's hand, already a step ahead. We couldn't be too late. Peter stopped in front of us.
“Find her,” he said.
“Marc,” Adam whispered.
“FIND HER!” Peter screamed.
The search was easy. The path shot off through the world, seeking out the little trailer. The image filled our minds and it was nothing but fire. I couldn't even feel her heartbeat. We tightened our grasped hands.
“Go,” Peter breathed. And we did.
We could see her when we stopped. She was lying in the grass about fifty feet in front of us. Flawless bronze hair fell to her middle in perfect ringlets. Her skin was too pale, frighteningly pale, but still beautiful. The bridge of her little nose was scattered with freckles, her lips almost white. She had on a yellow nightgown, torn and covered in blood. Her chest struggled to rise and her feet were caked with dirt. Still, she was breathtaking.
There was a little pond beside her, a thin layer of moss floating easily on the mirror surface. The trailer off to the left was a smoldering wreck. The blackened door frame hung on its hinges, a smear of burnt blood lining the knob. Peter lurched forward and I pulled myself after him. As we got closer, her wounds were more defined. Across her throat was a grizzly gash, deep and wide. Her middle, too, was torn. There was no blood around her, she had been dumped here. Her chest expanded again, just barely. Peter fell to his knees beside her, wiping her face with a shaking hand. Unbelievably, her eyelids twitched. She didn't open them, but they moved at his touch.
“Peter?” she choked. It was hardly a sound.
“I'm here, honey,” he crooned in her ear, his voice thick.
“Oh, Peter,” she tried to smile. “I didn't think you'd hear me.” Her voice was low, a little bell.
“It's ok,” he whispered, “I'm here.”
“And Dakota, of course,” she said.
“I'm here,” I whispered.
“Poor, Dakota,” she cried softly. “She'll know it's too late.”
“No,” Peter begged.
I laid my hands against her wounds. They weren't fresh, I couldn't bare to think of how long she had been lying here. The torn muscles fought back together desperately, the emptied veins pumped with difficulty. I couldn't replace the blood because the blood was already gone. The wounds didn't want to close, they argued and rebelled. The skin knit itself closed over the damage, pink scars barely marring the soft skin. But there was something else, something dark and deep within her body. It was like an infection, but it didn't reside in the blood or the muscles. It was black and thick and it had been there too long for me to touch it. It was death.
“The shadows... the... he...” her breath was barely a whisper.
“It's alright now, we're taking you home.” Peter gathered her into his arms like a limp doll.
“Marc,” Haylee whispered. Marc touched a hand to Peter as Haylee and I reached out for him.
“Peter,” the girl breathed. “My heart.” And we were gone.

* * *

Peter staggered ahead of us through the big double doors. A little moan escaped the beautiful girl's pale lips. We pushed in behind him, unsure of what to do. Hector and the twins were already waiting, Bailey and Miya standing from the couch. Adam's face twisted with grief. Anna ran forward, though unable to help. Hector breathed a prayer into the silence. Bailey wrapped a thick arm around Miya's shoulders. The air was thick with hopelessness, it was palpable that nothing could be done. But Peter carried her forward into the hallway with the doors, not pausing for a moment. We all followed silently. He stopped in the hallway, turning his head back and forth.
“Which one is hers?” he asked, his voice low.
“Venus,” Adam answered.
Aphrodite, of course. The goddess of love. The goddess of beauty. It seemed so obvious now, looking down at her perfect angel's face. Peter pushed her door open and balanced her against one knee as he pulled the covers back on her bed. He set her down gently, brushing aside her curls.
“More blankets,” I whispered.
I heard several feet rustle behind me. They were back in a breath, laying the heavy quilts on top of her. Haylee came back a moment later with a heating pad. She plugged it into the wall and slid it beneath the sheets. Peter pulled up the big chair and sat in it, his hand resting lightly against her cheek.
“What can we do now?” Haylee whispered.
“Wait,” I said.
“Can she... will she...” Adam couldn't control his voice.
“I don't know,” I answered honestly. I realized that my face was wet.
“You can't heal her,” Marc said. It wasn't a question.
“She's been dying too long, I can't stop the process.”
“There's no hope?” Anna choked.
“There is always hope.”
Peter hadn't heard any of this. He just laid his cheek against the pillow next to her sweet face. He was whispering in her ear, but the other's couldn't make it out. I could, but I numbed my ears to it. It wasn't meant for me, just for the heart of this dying girl. Peter hummed softly to her, stroking her cheek.
“Her name?” Haylee asked.
“I don't know,” Adam answered. Anna gasped suddenly.
“It was Haden! He'll go after the rest! We have to get to them before he does! We have to go now!” Her eyes were bright with the hunt. My heart was racing, but before I could agree Adam took her hand.
“Where the others are, Haden cannot go,” he said. I raised my eyebrows at him. “Trust me,” he finished. So I did.
We sat on the hard floor of her room for several hours, not speaking. Every so often, Peter would whisper in her ear or brush the curls across the pillow. When my legs fell asleep, I stood and went over to her. I pulled the blankets back a little and laid my hands against her chest. She was a little warmer, and her breathing was steady but shallow. Her heart was still beating weakly, the blood still struggling to fill her veins. But maybe it seemed like improvement. Seeing Peter's dark eyes adoring her, I couldn't convince myself otherwise. So I nodded to him, and he sighed.
“She's going to live,” Peter breathed. “She's going to live.”
When the room grew dark, I fell asleep. It wasn't exactly a real rest, I kept floating out on the air around the house, checking. I had just slipped into a doze again when I heard the rustling of fabric and opened my eyes. The beautiful girl shifted again under the blankets. I listened to the air. Her breathing was even, her heart catching up. She seemed almost warm. She moved again.
“Peter,” I said. He mumbled something. “Peter!” His head snapped up. The girl gasped softly. He leaned forward anxiously, cupping her cheek.
“It's alright, angel. You're safe. It's ok.” Her eyelids twitched. I was aware of the others crowding around the bed behind me, holding their breath. “Can you hear me, darling? Open your eyes. Come home.” Her eyelids twitched at the sound of his voice, the eyelashes fluttering. Then, miraculously, she opened her eyes.
She had been uncommonly beautiful before. But when her eyes drifted opened, it added the final piece to a beauty that was flawless and inhuman. Haylee literally gasped, and I knew that I had never seen any creation so stunning. Her eyes were the richest shade of gold. It wasn't a color that existed on earth, but an equal combination of all things. They were the sunlight wrapping itself around the world, the breath of a thousand flowers, the blinding shine of a million stars. They were unreal, startling, calming, and wonderful. She was perfect. Peter only smiled back, she was the most natural thing in the world to him.
“You had me worried,” he said to her. She lifted her hand to his cheek.
“I'm sorry,” she breathed. He chuckled, but his eyes were serious.
“I think I've been waiting for you for a very long time,” he whispered, almost soundlessly.
“Yes,” she agreed. “I think so.”

no more arrows

After the last scene our wanderers pour into Olympus, joyful and awed. It is just like Dakota dreamed, so it seems almost familiar to her. Huge kitchen, dining room, living room with large glass windows, and a bedroom for each of them with their names on the door. But the excitement doesn't last long. Marc and Dakota argue about her exchange with Haden. She says that she had no way of knowing whether or not Haden was lying, and Marc doesn't understand how she can doubt him or the way he feels about her. The fight ends with Adam singing. Being the god of music, he lulls them to sleep. In the morning Dakota thanks him and asks him a few questions about what he can do. We learn that he can only see certain snapshots of the future, without any way to control what or when. As he says this, he sees who they will find next. Her name is Miya, he says, and that there might be danger. He can't see enough to be sure. The original four head off warily to find her, whoever she may be. This next bit is where we pick up after they vanish out.

Marc walked through the cover of the grass, searching for danger. He turned back toward us. His face was ancient and sad.
“I-” he began.
“Get down!” I screamed.
There was a silent whistle as something flew through the air. None of the others could hear it, I knew, but I felt it tearing toward us with terrifying speed. Marc raised his eyebrows at me. An arrow parted the tree branches behind him. The sharp point caught the light for one second, sparkling dully. The feathered end cut a green leaf like a tail fin. The arrow shot easily through Marc's left shoulder, slicing tendons and muscles. It ground to a heavy stop halfway through; the gleaming tip a few inches from his chest in front, the feathered end beside his shoulder blade in back. A dark circle of blood began to spread around the neat hole left behind. Then everything was deafeningly silent. Marc looked down at the arrow in slow motion.
“Ouch,” he said.
“Marc,” Peter groaned, rushing out through the cattails toward him. Marc went down on one knee.
“OW!” he shouted, still staring at the arrowhead sticking through his chest. “Seriously. Ow!”
Peter caught Marc's other shoulder as he slumped forward. Haylee and I scrambled toward them, slipping in the shallow water beneath us. Marc's face was pale, the dark circle of blood still spreading.
“Damn, that hurts,” Marc panted. Peter looked at me with wide eyes.
“Stay where you are!” a voice called from the distance. It was a strong female voice, unafraid.
“I got shot with an arrow,” Marc gasped incredulously. “I got shot with and arrow.”
“Don't move!” the voice yelled again.
The ground shivered beneath me as I stomped through the trees behind Marc. The branches shook with the movement, little pebbles bouncing against the dirt. My face burned with hot anger and my breath came in shallow gasps. Behind the trees was a dark house.
“Not another step!” the voice cried, afraid now. I heard another arrow lift into the air.
“Don't you dare,” I growled, standing my ground. There was a little gasp.
“I'm so sorry!”
A young girl peered out through the door, her eyes round. Her dark skin was smooth against a white shirt and jean shorts. The curly black hair that was cut close to her head gleamed in the sun. She smiled sheepishly.
“Oops,” she said.
“An arrow,” Marc moaned behind me as Peter pulled him through the trees.
The inside of the house was dark, black sheets stapled across the windows. There was garbage and dirty clothes on the floor, shards of broken dishes pale against the dingy carpet. Peter sat Marc on the closest couch, huffing with effort. Miya stood by the door, her eyes embarrassed and worried. I didn't pay attention to any of it. I knelt in front of Marc.
“Marc,” I asked, my voice hard. “Can you hear me?” His eyes stared off into the distance.
“Honestly, Dakota. An arrow. Really.” His eyes dulled a little.
“Marc,” I repeated, “I have to pull it through.”
“Nope. Uh uh.” He shook his head.
“It's the only way. I can't heal it otherwise.”
“It's pretty ok where it is,” he mumbled.
“Peter,” I spat. Peter held Marc's good shoulder in place and wrapped a hand around the other arm. Marc groaned. I was trembling
“I'll do it,” Haylee whispered.
She stepped around behind the couch. She wrapped a trembling hand around the shaft of the arrow and laid her other palm flat against Marc's back. She took a deep breath.
“One,” she said.
“Really, it's not so bad,” Marc said.
“Two.”
“It's honestly not a big deal.” His eyes were wide.
“Three.”
Haylee jerked her arm back, the arrow sliding out the way it had come. Marc screamed and slumped against Peter, who struggled to hold him in place. Haylee held the bloody arrow up, sweat beading on her forehead. Marc screamed again, folding over. I leaned forward and pulled his shirt off. The wound looked like a thin paper cut, but the skin and torn muscle around it was swelling rapidly. Marc's teeth were clenched, tears rolled down his face, his breathing fast through his nose. I laid my hand against his shoulder. The skin was hot and slick with sweat.
I felt my anger and anxiety fade away as the muscles knit themselves together beneath my touch. No bones had been grazed, no arteries severed. All in all, it was a pretty clean shot. When the skin pressed itself closed, I opened my eyes. Marc wiped the sweat from his brow, taking a shaky breath.
“Let's not do that again,” Marc smiled unevenly at me.
“Agreed,” I said, handing back his bloody shirt. He took it from me.A little laugh sounded from beside the door.
We all turned our eyes on the small figure at once. She flinched against our gaze. She looked down at her feet, peeking up at us again. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Finally, she met our gaze with a fierce sort of rebellion, her chin jutting out stubbornly.
“Ok,” she snapped. “In my defense, I've been listening to those shadows out there for days. How was I supposed to know you'd finally shown up?”
“So you thought shooting us was the best plan?” Peter asked.
“Look, it's creepy here! Those things are horrible.” She shivered.
“How did you get a bow and arrow anyway?” Peter sighed.
“I don't have a bow,” she said, confused.
“What?” Marc asked.
“I don't have a bow,” she repeated. She looked at us like we were missing something.
“How did you shoot it if you don't have a bow?” Haylee asked.
Miya's eyes widened, just the smallest bit. The air shivered slightly, losing some of its elasticity. Beside the couch, the lamp lifted from the table. Across the room a shoe floated by as a plate skimmed the wall. Three arrows rose from beside the door. Two turned down to point at the floor. One shot across the room, hitting the plate in the dead center, shattering it to pieces. There were several thumps as all the loose objects in the room fell back to their places. The arrow in the wall shivered.
“I'm a good shot,” she said with a shrug.
“But you have to be careful!” Haylee scolded, unimpressed.
“I know, I'm sorry. Please don't tell Bailey,” she begged suddenly.
“Who?” Marc asked.
A door behind us swung open. A man emerged from the room, wearing only boxer shorts. He scratched his dark hair and yawned hugely. He was massive. Thick slabs of muscle wrapped his body like a lumberjack. He didn't look quite like a body builder, the muscles weren't chiseled purposefully. Rather, they looked like the kinds of muscles that developed from years of heavy lifting. A farmer might have those muscles, or a construction worker. But he was young just the same, a strong jaw and a big smile. His eyelashes caught my attention, like delicate feathers over his brown eyes, they stood out against his masculine features. He glanced over at our shock, nodding our way.
“What's up, guys?” he said, walking into the kitchenette.
No one responded as he took out a box from the cupboard and set in on the counter. He belched and reached into the box. He lifted the flap and turned the container upside down.
“Seriously, Miya?” he asked, his eyebrows raised. She giggled loudly.
“Oops,” she said.
“Really with the granola bars? Really?” She giggled with delight.
“I didn't know it was the last one.”
“Gimme the cereal,” he said, holding out his hand.
From across the room, a battered box of cereal lifted into the air. It floated by and landed perfectly in his palm. She cleared her throat loudly, waiting for a response.
“You gotta work on that aim, it's getting sloppy,” he teased. She laughed easily.
He took a coffee mug from the cabinet and filled it with cereal, throwing a handful into his mouth. He crunched for a moment, then tossed the open box of cereal into a sink full of dirty dishes. Suddenly, he gasped, throwing his hand up to cover his right ear. He groaned.
“Alright, alright, I'm lookin' at 'em.” He turned our way, looking toward Peter and Haylee.
“Here we go,” Miya sighed, sitting on the floor.
“See? They're fine. They look great.” He covered his ear again, then sighed. “Alright, alright, I'm goin'.”
He walked over to Haylee, gently taking her head in his huge hands. He turned her face this way and that, staring. We all just watched in silence. Miya laughed softly.
“Happy? She's fine. Looks great.” He released her. “I'm goin', stop your fussin'.” He turned to Peter and took his face in his hands too. He turned it the way he had Haylee's, searching. “Right, excellent. Just fine. Yeah, great, very handsome. Good? Ok.” He let Peter go and sighed in frustration. “Your mother,” he explained to Peter's staring face, rolling his eyes.
He walked back to the kitchen and picked up his mug of cereal, crunching again. He scratched his chest, clearing his throat. He looked out the window, pushing aside a black curtain. Our eyes only got wider as the silence stretched on.
“Bailey,” Miya said. “You're freaking them out.” Bailey looked at her, understanding dawning on his face.
“Oh! Right.” He smiled at us, tapping his right ear. “I hear dead people,” he said. Miya chuckled.
“Freak,” she teased.
“Miya here, excuse me, Minerva is 'Athena, ancient goddess of wisdom'. It's a good joke, don't you think? Oh, and if you didn't catch that, she can move shit with her mind. I think what I can do is creepier, but, hey, whatever.”
“Showoff,” Miya laughed.
“Guests!” he cried suddenly, snapping his fingers. “Right. Guests.”
He pulled a big pitcher from the cupboard and filled it with water. He grabbed a handful of mugs and balanced them easily in his big arms. He came over and set the pitcher on the coffee table between us, smiling happily. He filled the mugs sloppily, humming.
“You... what... you said... our mother?” Peter choked, unable to stop staring.
“Bacchus,” Miya explained. “Communication between the living and the dead.”
“Technically, Dionysis is the god of wine.”
He snapped his big fingers. The water in the pitcher turned a deep, thick purple. I blinked hard. The little mugs, too, had filled with a sweet smelling liquid.
“Which is not a problem either,” he grinned.
“Thanks!” Miya said, reaching forward to take a mug.
“Not you,” he barked, snapping his fingers again. The liquid in her mug turned back to water.
“Our mother?” Peter repeated. He had barely noticed a thing.
“Yeah, she's worried out of her damn mind, making me check that you two are ok. Marc's folks are fine, they're not freaking out. They see him, they're satisfied. Not a problem. They aren't even worried that he just got...” Bailey's face darkened. “SHOT?! Miya, you shot him?!” Miya groaned.
“Bailey, it was an accident,” she justified.
“Are you kidding? You don't shoot people, Miya, we're not hillbillies. I'm takin' the arrows. You don't get any more arrows.” She groaned.
“That's fine, Bailey, but can you just chill for a second. They're gonna stroke out.” She looked at us with worried eyes. I could only imagine that our mouthes were hanging open.
“Oh,” he said. He sat down in a chair near the rest of us. He scratched his head. “Um... I... I'm... Bailey. I... man... uh... I'm a Gemini. I like... um... I'm twenty two... I... Seriously, I got nothin'. Let's just go.” Miya jumped to her feet.
“I...” Haylee just stared at Bailey.
“Come on. Let's do it.” Bailey patted his knee like he was encouraging a particularly slow dog. Marc rose.
“This has been the weirdest day,” Marc mumbled. I got to my feet slowly.
“Bailey, seriously, you want to put some clothes on?” Miya rose her eyebrows high.
“You don't even want to know how dirty my clothes are. I wore your shirt yesterday, Miya. It's getting desperate.” He looked down at Peter and Haylee. “Alright. Let's go.”
“How does this work?” Miya asked Marc.
“I... you just hold on to me,” he muttered. I took his hand without thinking, he squeezed it softly.
“Come on, kiddo,” Bailey said.
He scooped Miya up with one arm and sat her on his hip like a child. She just rolled her eyes with love. Bailey clapped a bear paw around the back of Marc's neck. Peter and Haylee rose with a sigh and grabbed a hold of Marc. With a breath, the room spun away.