Deer in Headlights (Hearts and Arrows 1) (Good god series) (8 page)

“It is a farce. Perhaps I could shoot that far, too, if Zeus made my bow and arrow. This contest is unfair, and I should not have agreed to play with the two of you.”

“Please, Eros. My bow is more than you would know what to do with.”

“What is that supposed to mean, you pretentious ass?”

“What it means, you impudent infant, is that this bow deals wrath and pain, disease and famine. It can inspire, or it can decimate. Your little love arrows are no match for mine.”

Eros’ face went red. “Let us see, shall we?” He nocked a lead arrow, whose intent was to turn love to disdain, then drew and loosed in a swift motion. Apollo watched in horror as the arrow sailed down toward a river below.

Daphne laid by the shore with her eyes on the stars, her red hair lying in the grass around her with a happy smile on her wide lips. The arrow hit her, and the breath left her lungs, her face twisted in pain as her heart broke.

“Daphne,” Apollo whispered. He turned on Eros, who had a small smile on his lips, and a dove arrow pointed at his heart. He loosed.

Apollo looked down at his chest as the arrow dissolved into twinkling dust, his mouth slack as he looked up at Eros. “What have you done?” he whispered, paralyzed for a long moment before he turned and flew to Daphne.

Eros turned to Artemis, confused. “What is he on about?”

Artemis scrambled for her things and slung her quiver across her chest. “He loves her, you idiot.”

“Well, of course he does. I just hit him with an arrow.”

“No, you fool.
Before
you threw your tantrum.” She shook her head and followed Apollo away.

Apollo appeared by Daphne’s side, and she skittered away from him, clutching at her chest, her green eyes wide, her freckles dark against her pale skin..
 

“Daphne…” he said with a cautious hand extended.

“No. NO! Get away.”

“Please, Daphne. I will not harm you. It is I, Apollo.”

“I know who you are! You must stay away.”

“But I love you, and you love me.”

Her face twisted. “I could never love you. You disgust me.”

His heart shattered at the words. “I … you cannot mean—”
 

“Stay back,” she screamed, then stood and turned to run up the bank of the river.

He ran after her, calling her name, and she looked over her shoulder at him, terror written all over her small face, her hair flying around her. She turned and made for the river’s shore, screaming her father’s name.

The water bubbled, and the river god appeared, his barrel chest glistening, his serpentine tail twisting in the water under him.

“Save me, Father,” she shrieked, and he threw out his hand.

Daphne skidded to a halt as the earth moved beneath her. Roots shot out of the ground, whipping at her arms, twisting around her legs as the tree enveloped her. Her screams pierced Apollo’s ear, and her eyes met his just before they were gone, consumed by bark as it climbed over her skin.

Apollo fell at the base of the tree, and the branches that hung over him shrank away with a rustle.

His fists closed in the grass around her roots. “No,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “Please, no.”

Her father sank back into the water with the final words, “You shall not harm her.”

Apollo closed his eyes, and his ribs shuddered as he tried to breathe. When he opened his eyes, he was glowing, the light white and yellow and hot, and when the scream ripped from his throat, the light left him in a pulse, exploding out around him in a ring. He laid a hand on the trunk and tried to stand, touching her face, still clear as if carved into the tree, frozen in horror.

“I am sorry.” His voice was raw and rough, his tears burning tracks down his cheeks. She rustled her branches, and he reached up to pull off a strand of leaves, weaving them into his hair before crumpling to her feet, lost and broken.

That moment would never leave him. He saw it every time he closed his eyes.

Aphrodite bid Eros to leave the arrows where they fell, Apollo’s penance for Adonis. Eros’ powers fell under her domain, and as her son and confidant, he wouldn’t go against her.

And so, winning was imperative for him and for Daphne, because the only way Dita would reverse the curse was if she had no choice.
 

Dean sat on the arm of the big couch in the warehouse as Roe brought Travis up to speed. He’d been instructed to keep quiet by Roe, who he was in deep shit with, but Dean had no desire to cause any more trouble. The band would be better off with Travis’ talent, and they’d gotten him quickly enough that they hopefully wouldn’t fall into any trouble with their label for dicking around. And, past that, Travis seemed like a good guy, or at least as far as Dean could tell.

He watched as Travis nodded at Roe, smiling amiably as Roe went over their schedule and the situation. Roe’s face was drawn, his shoulders tense, and his eyes occasionally darted to Dean as he spoke.
 

Dean was in trouble, that was all there was to it. He’d run out of chances. Roe had seen him through almost every fuck-up of his life and bailed him out, no questions asked. He was always there with a smile and a slap on the back, never judging. Dean owed him everything. Roe was the only family he had.

“Practice is every day at noon, except Saturdays. The first thing we have to do is get you familiarized with the songs we’re scheduled to record, and the sooner the better. Our rep is breathing down my neck, and he’s not happy that Elliot’s gone.” Roe shot Dean a pointed look. “No offense, Travis.”

“None taken,” Travis said.

Kevin turned to Travis and cocked an eyebrow behind his heavy-framed, black glasses. “Speaking of, you don’t have a girlfriend, do you?” He folded his skinny arms across his t-shirt that said
I can’t. I have gymnastics.

“Yeah,” Travis answered, looking around the room.

Roe tensed.
 

Kevin smirked. “Is she hot?”
 

“As a matter of fact, yeah. She is. Why do you ask?” Travis asked with a hint of confusion in his voice.

Dean sighed. He wasn’t ashamed, and he wasn’t proud, but he was tired of talking about it.

“Full disclosure.” Kevin pushed his glasses up his hawkish nose. “There have been … let’s call them ‘issues’ of the carnal nature between our dear Professor Panty Dropper and girlfriends of drummers past.”
 

“Oh. I’m not really worried about that.” Travis shrugged.

Kevin’s fingers disappeared into his curly hair as he scratched his head, and his eyebrows arched. “Seriously, man? Because that’s why Elliot bailed. Casanova here gave his girl the business and it was curtains.”

“Ah. Wow, man.” Travis smiled warmly at Dean, and Dean was caught off guard, only able to smile back. “That’s cold.” He turned back to Roe. “Look, I trust Lex.”

Roe’s lips were a flat line. “It’s not her we’re worried about.”
 

Travis laughed, and Roe paused for a moment before he shook his head.
 

“Well, you’ve been warned. Let’s get started.”
 

Everyone moved for their instruments. Kevin walked by on his way to his keyboard and punched Dean in the shoulder. Dean was pretty sure he was playing.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Kevin said with narrow eyes.

“Don’t worry, man.”

“Yeah, right.” Kevin rolled his eyes, and Dean gave him a crooked smile as he reached for his guitar.

He glanced at Roe, whose head was bent down as he tuned his bass, and knew he had to keep his shit together. He
could
say no, he just
didn’t
say no. But as he looked at Roe, he knew things had to be different with Travis. He owed it to all of them, and especially to Roe, who had been there for him always, even when he had no one else.

Dean was eight years old again with his alarm blaring in his ear. He slapped the button and stretched in bed, lying there for a minute, listening for his mom. Everything was quiet, so either she was drunk, asleep, or she still wasn’t back. He hoped she was still gone as he threw the covers off and slipped out of bed in the near-dark.
 

The living room was quiet w
hen he walked in, his mom’s door open, and the r
[ :/]
oom dark. He flipped on the kitchen light and climbed on the counter to get out the Froot Loops and a bowl. The box was almost gone, and he wondered when she would come back. It had been over a week since she’d been shopping, three days since she’d been home, and they were almost out of everything. He climbed down and took his bowl to the fridge, setting it on the shelf while he opened the milk, but as soon as he took the lid off, he knew it was bad.

Dean sighed and emptied the milk out in the sink, then sat down at the table to eat his cereal plain, not able to hear anything past the crunching. He jumped when the door opened, and his mother almost fell into the room, giggling.

Her black hair fell down her back, her green eyes ringed with shadows, and the man behind her grabbed her arm to stop her from falling.

“Whoa there, Susie. I think you’ve had too much to drink. We should get you to bed.” He smiled down at her and nuzzled his face in her neck. She giggled again and squirmed against him.

When he pulled away, he noticed Dean for the first time, and his smile fell off his face and onto the floor.

“Uh, who’s this?”

She glanced at Dean and rolled her eyes. “That’s just my kid. Don’t mind him, he’s on his way to school in a bit.
Aren’t you
?” She shot a look at him that let him know exactly where he stood.

“Yeah.” Dean pushed his bowl away, his appetite gone.
 

“Let me just go freshen up, okay, Joey?”

“Sure thing, baby.”

She made a face at Dean as she walked by. All he wanted to do was get out of there, and he wished she had just waited a little longer before coming home. His stomach twisted into knots as he picked up the bowl and poured the cereal back into the box. If she didn’t go shopping, he could at least eat it the next day.
 

Joey leaned up against the wall by the door and watched him with a friendly smile. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey.” Dean put the bowl in the sink and made his way around the kitchen collecting bread and peanut butter for his lunch.

“You need some help?”

“I got it, thanks.”

“You’re pretty good, you get yourself up and everything? How old are you?”

“Eight.”

Joey’s face fell. “Wow. I’m impressed. That’s very grown-up of you. Are you sure you don’t want a hand? I’d like to help.”

Dean looked up at him, wishing Joey really could help. He imagined for a split second living in a world where someone wanted to take care of him. A place where he was tucked in tight by someone who loved him, a world where movies with popcorn or cocoa on cold winter nights existed. But Joey would soon be gone, and his mom would bring a new guy home. Or, she would leave, and he’d be all alone again. Joey couldn’t help him, and his mother didn’t want to.

“I always do it by myself, but thanks anyway.” Dean turned for his room, leaving the bewildered man in the kitchen.