Omega (22 page)

“
You can do many things.
Each has a purpose.” She motioned to the other two ribbons. “You
can change them.” She manipulated the ribbons floating around Mrs.
Nettles. The stuffed animal faded until she was a ghost then
returned to normal and then ended up with her feet where her hands
should be and her eyes on her butt.

I can manipulate
matter.
I had never heard of anything so
incredible. “This is what gods do, isn’t it?”

Mnemosyne nodded and returned Mrs. Nettles
to normal before bringing her back to life. “We control nature,
time, space, and so do you. Initially, gods and goddesses learn to
create and destroy. You have to train yourself to do other
things.”

“
Like what?”

“
Premonitions.
Teleportation. Telekinesis. There is no limitation to what you can
do. You simply have to learn.” She handed me Mrs. Nettles. “When
you bring something to life, it’s yours. You are bound to it. You
must protect it. You can never harm one of your creations.” These
words were so solemn, I almost smiled at her cute, serious
expression.

“
I brought Adonis … the
grotesque … to life,” I mused. “He’s not the same man I saw in the
kitchen.”

“
You must help me remind
him. I am too weak to do it myself.”

I wasn’t certain it mattered if I told the
SISA chief who he was to me. He had changed too much. He didn’t
seem capable of compassion or empathy or even reason, and he worked
for the Supreme Priest. Basically, he was everything I didn’t need
in my life right now, even if he could turn into a grotesque and
fly at night.

“
What else should I
remember?” I asked, hushed. “More horrible stuff?”

“
No.”

“
And the trials? Is that
what this is?”

“
No. You will need to know
who you are before you start them. Mismatch remembers you; he
doesn’t know it yet. I asked him to bring you to me, and he did. If
he didn’t feel the connection between you, he would’ve denied
me.”

Ugh. I was already feeling unsettled, to say
the least. I yearned to talk to Herakles, to ask him to tell me his
version of events the night I fell from the sky. To understand how
he could kill my parents then raise me as his own.

This kind of betrayal was too deep for me to
feel anything but profound confusion. I didn’t remember my parents,
but that didn’t mean I was able to brush off their deaths. He had
hidden away his entire past from me, and I never bothered to ask
him too much about it out of respect for the man I loved. Was this
wrong? Should I have insisted instead of blindly trusted him?

“
These trials … what is
the purpose?” I asked, puzzled.

“
The gods created the
trials to challenge you so you understood how to serve them. I fear
men will choose trials to further their goals as well.”

“
I need to get this over
with,” I said. “I need to talk to Herakles.”

“
If you are ready.”
Mnemosyne pointed to another door I suspected didn’t lead where I
thought it should.

I had no idea what I should have been ready
for. Mnemosyne went back to playing with her toys, and I stood.
“Thank you.” I went to the door and stared at it, stilling my
emotions to handle whatever came next.

“
I do know you can’t kill
him,” she called after me.

“
Kill who?”

“
The opponent the Supreme
Priest chose to face you.”

So next is a battle.
I faced the door. I could deal with a battle
better than I could learning I knew even less about the world and
those in it than I thought. “I’m not afraid. I can handle a
battle.”

Mnemosyne said nothing. With a deep breath,
I opened the door …

…
and stepped into the
courtyard on the SISA compound. It was empty – aside from the
ribbons that flowed around everything – quiet and late afternoon
with lights from the recessed corners of buildings illuminating the
shaded area around me.

“
Shit.” Until I turned, I
could assume I wasn’t being matched up against the one man who
could not only beat me, but who could do so very, very quickly,
before I had a chance to convince him not to kill the person who
brought him to life.

Grotesques lining the
rooftop of a temple. I was on a class tour of the temple when teen
boys began to torment one of the stone monsters. I stopped them,
tried to fix the creature and in doing so, brought it to
life.
The memories were trickling in. With
a start, I realized I wasn’t wearing the red cord. The world didn’t
quake, and I focused for a long moment on the ribbons. I could
manipulate them, allegedly, yet had no idea what each color meant
or how to maneuver them without making the entire world crash down
around me. Mnemosyne’s warning about being able to create or
destroy out of the gate concerned me. How on earth had I as a six
year old managed to learn to use this power safely?

I felt him near me. This time, the uncanny
sensation was stronger. I hadn’t yet recovered from the revelations
or the trek through my mind to release my memories.

“
The Supreme Priest has
ordered your trial to be as such: you will face me in a battle here
and now. If you fail to defeat me, you will swear a blood and life
oath to serve him and obey him without question.”

“
Can we, uh, talk about
this first?” I asked. Coldness pierced me. I drew a breath and
faced Adonis. He was dressed in his black uniform, cool gaze on me,
panther body tensed and ready for a fight. He carried two knives
and appeared serious about using them.

Except, I wasn’t seeing him as he was now
but as he had been – the weeping man bleeding out on the floor of
my kitchen. He nearly died to save me, and he had murdered several
government men to protect me.

What happened between the moment he fell
from the sky and when he rediscovered me? Did any part of the man
he had been remain?

You can’t kill him.

Mnemosyne wasn’t telling me I’d fail. She
was warning me I physically could not destroy something I had
brought to life.

“
What if I win?” I asked
as the silence drew out.

“
Then you owe him
nothing.”

It was simple and smart. The Supreme Priest
managed to cut out the other members of the Triumvirate up front. I
imagined he intended to use my powers for the reason Adonis claimed
earlier: to expand his influence and control over the world. If I
were truly what Mnemosyne claimed, I could grant him this, and help
him rule the gods as well.

“
Quick question,” I said,
my heart starting to race. “Do you remember me?” It was
lame.

“
Choose your weapon.” He
pointed with the tip of one knife towards the windows of the second
floor overlooking the courtyard. I watched his ribbons shift around
him with each movement, fascinated by them. “The Supreme Priest is
watching on behalf of the gods.”

“
Of course.” I blew out a
sigh. “Adonis, I don’t –”

“
Weapon of
choice.”

I studied him. Some part of him had known
me, but it was buried under years of him being a different man. I
went reluctantly to the display of weapons on a table. My hands
were shaking as I picked up one knife and tested its weight.

“
You are not so eager for
your trial,” he observed.

“
No, I’m not.”

“
You had some sense
knocked into you since we last spoke this morning.”

“
Not sense. Knowledge.” I
set the knife down and picked up another. No part of me was
involved in choosing a weapon. I was wishing instead that I’d never
gone in to open my memories. Not that I wanted to kill Adonis or
anyone, but knowing I couldn’t, with his pain and effort to save me
still fresh, with the confirmation that we truly were connected, I
was worried. Terrified even. Because all that emotion meant I
wasn’t going to be able to pull the trigger if I had the chance.
Not in self defense. Not out of anger for what he’d done to
Herakles, the forest, my adopted family. Herakles had trained me to
contain my emotions when it came to survival and I wasn’t able to
do that now that I knew the history between Adonis and
me.

Seeing him for the first time in the
backyard, when he came to visit the night after I’d woken him … the
fleecy softness of his wings … his scent ... how he’d gently
wrapped me in his wings …

Oh, gods. That was where I first smelled
him. It was why he was familiar to me even in the human form I
never saw as a child.

How could I defeat him when I didn’t think
I’d have the heart to try?

There’s another way to win.
Help me remind him who he is.
The voice of
the goddess I’d just met was almost too soft to hear.

“
You’re stalling,” he
said.

Blinking, I shifted towards the next set of
weapons, short swords. Images from the night he tried to save me,
when he picked me up gently from the tree house and hovered off the
ground, flew through my mind.

I love you, Mismatch.

Mismatch. It was the name I gave him when I
was a child.

Shivering, my hand dropped from the table.
“I remember how soft they were,” I said.

Silence. For a moment, I didn’t think he had
heard.

“
Softer than velvet.
Blacker than night, and wider than the courtyard.”

“
What’re you talking
about?” A tight, hushed note was in his voice. I heard him pad
closer and tensed, uncertain if he believed in fair fights or just
winning, and what he’d do since he knew the stakes.

“
Your wings.”

His breath caught. He was so tense, I eased
a hand toward a knife.

“
You’re a grotesque by
night, human by day, brought to life around twelve years–” I
continued.

His fist smashed into the table, and I leapt
back, without one of the precious knives.

Adonis was unhinged for the first time since
I’d met him. “Who told you?” he demanded, eyes blazing and face
flushed. He stepped towards me, and I had the impression of a lion
about to attack.

I really had no other way to defend myself
except with words. I raised my hands and kept my voice low, steady
and calm as I responded. “No one told me. I remember. Mnemosyne
showed me what I forgot.”

“
Which was what
exactly?”

“
Mismatch.”

“
That’s not possible.” He
snatched the material of my shirt and shoved me into a column,
keeping me in place with his strong frame and the forearm across my
throat. I was silent and too aware that I was out of knowledge
about him. I hadn’t known much about him at all when I was younger.
“No one knows that name.” His low voice was a threat, his eyes
pinned to mine.

Uncomfortable yet not about to try to move,
I struggled to pin down emotions that were starting to race within
me. My first instinct was to either run or fight, and it was the
wrong time for either reaction. I hadn’t learned everything about
handling the world I thought I had when leaving the forest.
Determining the best way not to get killed was unexpectedly
difficult.

We stared at each other in a thick silence.
I had never been this close to a man – other than Herakles, who
didn’t count – never had my body pressed to another’s. I was torn
between believing the grotesque who risked his life for me when I
was young would never hurt me and knowing the muscular body I was
once more experiencing could destroy me before I had a chance to
speak again.

And then there was the other emotion, the
one tied to my fevered insides and the fluttering of my stomach
that seemed ridiculously out of place at a time like this. Adonis
was … attractive. More so now that I knew he could turn into a
mythical monster, which was beyond intriguing. Even more so after
seeing him rescue me when I was a child. From the eyes that
resembled the gem at my chest to the quiet intensity and
self-assurance, he could outrun, outsmart and out maneuver me, all
of which were Herakles’ conditions for any boy to get near me.

He was kind of incredible.

Assuming he didn’t kill me. I studied his
perfect features. He was struggling. Though against what, I
couldn’t tell. I sure as Hades wasn’t resisting. It had to be the
goddess trying to make him remember.

“
Your nose is bleeding
again,” I ventured.

He touched it with his free hand and gazed
briefly at the blood. Glassiness crossed his eyes. With no warning,
he stepped back and shook his head, stumbled another step and
weaved on his feet.

I stared at him, not expecting the weird
weakness to return. He had displayed none of it upon our first
meeting.

“
How did you know of my …
condition?” he asked and rested the heel of one palm against his
temple.

“
Condition?” I repeated.
“Sounds like you’re sick, but you’re not. You’re a
grotesque.”

He shot me a warning look and this time, I
saw the pain.

The image of him on the kitchen floor
distracted me long enough to cost me the chance to reach for a
knife on the table. Able to read his opponent, he shifted between
me and the table without raising his guard.

I did the only thing I could. “We met twelve
years ago,” I started, at a loss as to what else to do except talk.
My new memories were crisp and clear. “You were a statue on the
Temple of Artemis. I woke you up one day, and you came to visit me
later that night. I awoke … your stuffed animal, too. Her name is
Mrs. Nettles. I didn’t understand why you had her at first but now
I get it. She’s kind of alive and has been since you met her.”