The Goddess Test Boxed Set: Goddess Interrupted\The Goddess Inheritance\The Goddess Legacy (7 page)

“I'm sorry,” I said. My throat was dry. “For not listening to you yesterday, I mean. I wasn't thinking, and I didn't think you
were serious. My mom's really sick, and I just—please. I'm here. I'll stay. I'll do whatever you want. Just bring Ava back.”

He sipped his tea and motioned for me to take mine. I did so with shaking hands.

“She's seventeen,” I said, my voice growing more desperate by the word. “She shouldn't have to miss out on her whole life just because of my stupid mistake.”

“It wasn't your mistake.” He set his cup down and focused on me. His eyes were still the same bizarre shade of moonlight, and I squirmed under the intensity of his stare. “Your friend made her choice when she decided to jump into the river and abandon you. I do not hold you accountable for your friend's death. You shouldn't either.”

“You don't understand. I didn't know that you were serious. I didn't get it. I didn't know she'd really die—I thought you were kidding, or…I don't know. Not kidding, but something. I didn't know you could do that, and now that I do—please. She doesn't deserve to die for making a few mistakes.”

“And you do not deserve to give up half of the rest of your life for her.”

I sighed, so frustrated that I was close to tears. What did he want from me? “You're right, I don't want to stay here. This place terrifies me.
You
terrify me. I don't know what you are or what this place is, and the last thing I want to do is spend the rest of my life here. Maybe Ava wasn't the greatest to me at first, but she's my friend now. She didn't deserve to die, and her death—it's my fault. It should have been me, not her, and I can't live with that. I can't look at myself in the mirror every day knowing it's my fault that her family has to go through the pain of losing her just like—” I stopped. Just like I was going through the pain of losing my mother. “I can't. So if it means
Ava comes back, then I'll stay here for as long as you want, I promise. Please.”

It wasn't exactly the speech I'd planned, but it was close enough. By the time I was through, there were tears in my eyes, and I gripped the teacup so tightly that it was a minor miracle it didn't break.

In front of me Henry was silent, staring into his own cup of tea. I didn't have the faintest idea what he was thinking, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know. All that mattered was that he agreed.

“You would willingly give up six months a year for the rest of your life in order to save your friend, even after what she did to you?” There was a note of incredulity in his tone.

“What she did doesn't deserve a death sentence,” I said. “There are a lot of people out there who loved her, and they shouldn't have to hurt like that because of me.” And maybe knowing I'd saved her would help me hurt a little less, too.

He drummed his fingers against the armrest of the sofa, his eyes on me once again. “Kate, I do not invite just anyone into my home. Do you understand why I offered this to you?”

Because he was crazy? I shook my head.

“Because even though she had abandoned you, instead of feeling spiteful or allowing her to die, you did everything within your power—including face one of your greatest fears—to save her.”

I didn't know what to say to that. “Wouldn't anyone?”

“No.” His smile was weary. “Very few would even consider it. You are rare, and you intrigue me. When you declined my offer yesterday, I thought perhaps I was wrong, but by coming here today, you have only proved yourself even more worthy and capable than I could have imagined.”

I blinked, alarmed. “Worthy and capable of what?”

He ignored my question. “I will make my offer only once more. In return, I cannot give you your friend's life back. She is gone, and I am afraid that if I returned her to her body now, she would be something unnatural, and she would never find happiness. But I promise you that as she is now, she is content.”

My chest felt hollow. “So it's all for nothing then?”

“No.” He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I cannot undo what has already been done, but I can
prevent
.”

“Prevent what?”

He stared at me, and with a rush of hope, I understood. I thought I would be the one to bring it up, but he'd done it for me.

He could stop my mother from dying.

“You—you can really do that?”

He hesitated. “Yes, I can. I cannot heal your mother, but I can keep her alive until you are ready to say goodbye. I can give you the chance to spend more time with her, and when you are ready, I will make sure it is peaceful.”

His words settled over me, enveloping me in a strange warmth. “How?” I whispered.

He shook his head. “Don't worry yourself about that. If you agree, you have my word that I will uphold my end of our deal.”

I'd always thought I'd get to say goodbye to my mother. None of the scenarios I'd played out in my head involved her falling into a coma and slipping away without me getting to tell her I loved her one last time, and now…

“Okay,” I said softly. “You—you keep her alive. She has a really aggressive kind of cancer, so it might—it might be difficult.” Suddenly it was hard to see with the way my eyes were
swimming in tears. “But she won't be in any pain, right? I just—I want to be able to say goodbye.”

“She won't be in any pain, I will make sure of it.” He smiled sadly. “Is there anything else you would like? You are giving up much more than I am, and I want you to be certain.”

I swallowed. “You can't keep her alive? You can't—you can't heal her?”

“I am sorry,” he said. “But goodbyes aren't forever. The love you have for your mother isn't the sort that death can breach.”

I ducked my head and stared into my tea, not wanting him to see me fall apart. “I don't know who I am without her.”

“Then you will have a chance to find out before she goes.” Henry set down his cup. “And when you say your goodbyes, she will have peace of mind knowing you will be all right.”

I nodded, my throat too tight for me to speak. For her then, too. She wanted me to be all right, and that wasn't something I could promise her yet. But the chance to have one more conversation, to tell her I loved her one last time, and the glimmer of hope that I would be able to look her in the eye and promise her I would be okay so she could let go without worry or guilt—it was worth it.

“Then it is done,” said Henry gently. “You will be my guest for the winter. Sofia will escort you to your room, and nothing will be asked of you until tomorrow.”

Again I nodded. This was it then—I was trapped. This would be my home for the next six months. Suddenly the room seemed much smaller than it had before. “Henry?” I said with a squeak.

“Yes?”

“Did Sofia know this was going to happen?”

Henry eyed me for several seconds, as if trying to decide whether or not I would believe him. “We've been watching you, yes.”

I didn't dare ask who
we
were. “What is this place?”

He looked amused. “Have you not figured it out already?”

I felt my cheeks color. At least there was some blood left in my head, which meant I had a chance at standing without passing out. “I've been a little busy thinking about other stuff.”

Getting to his feet, Henry offered me his hand. I didn't take it, but it didn't seem to bother him. “It goes by many names. Elysium, Annwn, Paradise—some even call it the Garden of Eden.”

He smiled as if he'd told a clever little joke. I didn't get it, and my confusion must have shown, because he continued without me asking.

“This is the gate between the living and the dead,” he said. “You are still living. The others on the grounds died a very long time ago.”

A chill ran through me. “And you?”

“Me?” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I rule the dead. I am not one of them.”

My rooms were surprisingly comfortable. Unlike the rest of the house, they didn't seem to be too preoccupied with making sure everyone walking through them knew they were part of a very rich and powerful household. Instead my suite was relatively modest, the only real luxury being the bed, which was huge and canopied and exactly the sort I'd always dreamed of having. Part of me wondered if Henry had known that, too.

Everyone seemed to know I was there, as if I were someone famous. I heard whispers and giggles every now and then from the other side of my door, and whenever I looked out the huge bay window, I could see some of the grounds workers staring up at me, like they knew I was watching them. I didn't like being a topic of gossip, but there wasn't a whole lot I could do about it except close the curtains and bury my head in a pile of pillows.

The day passed quickly, and it wasn't long before Sofia brought me dinner. I was still annoyed that she hadn't warned me she was part of this earlier, so I muttered my thanks without
looking at her and refused to answer any of her questions. How I was doing wasn't exactly a secret anyway.

After she left, I picked at the food, too worried about what was going to happen in the morning to eat. While I wasn't confined to my room, there wasn't much else for me to do, at least not now, not when I knew how easy it would be for me to get lost.

But no matter how nice the room was or how kind the staff was or how good the food tasted, the fact remained that I was essentially a prisoner. I thought of James and wondered how long he'd waited at the gate and whether or not he'd gone to see my mother afterward. Six months seemed to stretch on forever in front of me, the end nowhere in sight—would he keep his promise? Would he be there when this was over, or would he have moved on? Deep inside, I knew he would be there. I didn't deserve a friend like him.

But would my mother still be there at the end, too? Would Henry keep his promise? Was he even capable of it? I wanted to believe him, to believe that that sort of thing was possible—because if he really could keep her alive, then maybe I'd never have to say goodbye, not until it was my time to die, too. Or maybe he'd be able to keep her alive long enough for them to find a cure.

I couldn't save Ava, but there was still hope for my mother, and no matter what it cost me, it would be worth it.

I didn't remember falling asleep, but when I opened my eyes, I wasn't in Eden Manor anymore. Instead I was lying on a blanket in the middle of Central Park and staring up at a cloudless summer sky, the heat of the sun on my face.

I sat up, confused, and looked around. There was a picnic basket next to me, and other people were scattered around the
grass enjoying themselves. Sheep Meadow. It was my favorite spot in the entire park, within view of the lake, but far enough away from the worst of the tourist traps that it didn't feel gimmicky. My mother and I hadn't been able to come here in years. I started to stand, determined to figure out what was going on, when my mouth dropped open.

My mother, looking as healthy as she had ten years ago, long before the cancer set in, walked up the gentle slope, wearing a long flowing skirt and peasant blouse I hadn't seen her in since she grew too thin to wear it.

“Mom?”

She smiled—a real smile, not a sickly smile or the smile she put on when she was trying to hide how much pain she was in. “Hello, sweetheart.” She sat next to me and kissed my cheek.

I was still for a moment, too stunned to move, but when it finally sank in that she was here, healthy and glowing and my mother again, I threw my arms around her, hugging her tightly and inhaling her familiar scent. Apples and freesia. She was no longer frail, and she wrapped her arms around me with equal strength.

“What's going on?” I said, struggling to keep my eyes dry.

“We're having a picnic.” She released me and began to unpack the basket. It was full of my favorite foods from when I'd been a child—peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches, sliced tangerines, macaroni and cheese packed in plastic containers, and enough chocolate pudding to serve a small army. Best of all, she pulled out a box of baklava, just the way she always made it. I watched in amazement, wondering what I'd done to deserve such an amazing dream, even though it felt too real to be one. I could sense each blade of grass underneath my hands, and the warm
breeze brushed the ends of my hair against my bare arms. It was like we were actually here.

And then a thought wormed its way through my mind, and I looked at her suspiciously. “Did Henry bring you here?”

Her smile widened. “He's lovely, isn't he?”

I gulped a lungful of air, and all the bad thoughts I'd ever had about Henry flew out of my head. He kept his promise. More than that, he could really do it. “Is this a dream then? Or is it—is it real?”

She gave me a container of macaroni, along with a look that only my mother could pull off. “Is there some rule I don't know about that means it can't be both?”

A sense of irrational hope filled me. “Is he really what he says he is?”

“And what would that be?” she said, unwrapping a sandwich.

I blurted out everything that had happened since we arrived in Eden. Seeing Henry after nearly crashing into an imaginary cow—the night by the river and how he'd seemingly resurrected Ava—the deal I'd made, and the way James had tried to stop me from taking it—the visit from Henry, and Ava dying the next day—my decision to go to Eden Manor to try to save her, and finally the deal I'd made with Henry that had gotten me this. Suddenly staying with him for six months didn't seem nearly as bad, not if I got to see my mother every night.

“Curious,” she said, though her eyes were sparkling with amusement. I didn't see anything funny about the situation. “I wish you'd told me all of this earlier, Kate.”

“I'm sorry,” I said, my cheeks flushing as I stared down at my hands. “I thought I was going crazy or something.”

“Hardly.” She reached out and cupped my chin, guiding it
upward until I was looking at her. “Promise me you'll tell me everything that happens from now on, will you? I don't want to miss anything.”

I nodded. More time with her—it was all I could possibly ask for. “Mom?” I said in a small voice. “I love you.”

She smiled. “I know, sweetheart.”

 

When I woke up early the next morning, at first I didn't know where I was. The heat of the sun from my dream still lingered on my skin, and I opened my eyes, half expecting to see my mother standing over me, but it was only the canopy of my bed.

Groaning, I sat up and blinked the sleep out of my eyes. Something wasn't right, and I couldn't put my finger on it. Then, after a long moment, the day before came flooding back to me, along with the deal I'd made with Henry, and my heart skipped a beat. So it hadn't been just a dream after all.

“D'you think she's awake now? She ought to be, yeah?”

“If she wasn't, she certainly is now.”

I froze. The whispers were coming from the other side of the curtains hanging from my bed, and they weren't voices I recognized. The first was bright and bubbly; the second made it sound like whoever it belonged to wanted to be anywhere but here. I couldn't blame her.

“What d'you think she's like? Better than the last one, yeah?”

“Anyone's better than the last one. Now shut up before you really do wake her up.”

I sat there for a long moment, trying to absorb what I was hearing. I'd locked the door the night before, I was sure of it,
so how had they gotten in there? And what did they mean by “the last one”?

Before I could speak, my stomach growled. Loudly. The sort of epic loud that makes everyone in class turn around and giggle while you duck in your seat and try not to turn red. Whatever chance I had at eavesdropping was gone, thanks to my traitorous belly.

“She's awake!” The curtains snapped open, and I shielded my eyes from the morning light. “Oh! She's pretty!”

“And brunette. Haven't had one of those in decades.”

“Thanks, I guess,” I mumbled, but with the sun shining in my eyes, I couldn't see who I was talking to. “Who're you?”

“Calliope!” This was the one who spoke in exclamation points, the one who'd called me pretty. I pried my eyelids open just enough to get a decent look at her. Smaller than me, with blond hair that hung past her waist and a round face that flushed pink with happiness. She looked so excited that I was afraid she'd topple over.

“Ella,” said the second girl dully. Still squinting, I got a good look at her and felt a stab of jealousy. Dark hair, tall, impossibly beautiful, and she looked bored to tears.

“And you're Katherine,” said Calliope. “Sofia told us all about you, how you came here to help your friend and how you're staying with us for six months and—”

“Calliope, stop it, you're scaring her.”

I didn't know if scaring was technically the right word, but it worked for now. As Calliope bounced up and down, getting closer to me with each move she made, I started to lean back. Her exuberance was intimidating.

“Oh.” Calliope took a step back, blushing again. “Sorry. Are you hungry?”

Deep breath, I thought. In and out, in and out, and maybe things would start to make sense.

“She needs to get dressed first,” said Ella, moving toward an armoire. “Katherine, what's your favorite color?”

“
Kate
. Call me Kate,” I said through gritted teeth. It was too early in the morning for this. “And I don't have one.”

“You don't have a favorite color?” said Calliope disbelievingly as she moved to help Ella. I stood and stretched, unable to see what exactly they were doing. Both of them stood in front of the armoire, which looked as if it were chock-full of clothing.

“Not today,” I said, irritated. “I can dress myself, you know.”

Ella and Calliope wrestled something long and blue and soft from the crush of clothing. They both turned toward me, holding—

Oh, no.

“Unless you've some sort of inhuman ability to lace yourself up into a corset, dressing yourself isn't an option,” said Ella, her eyes glinting. I didn't know if it was out of amusement or malevolence. Quite possibly both.

They held up a blue dress that was so low-cut, not even Ava would've touched it. The sleeves were long and narrow, fanning out just toward the end, and there was lace.
Lace
.

My eyes widened. “You can't be serious.”

“You don't like it?” Calliope frowned and ran a hand over the soft fabric. “What about something yellow? You'd look nice in yellow.”

“I don't wear dresses,” I said through a clenched jaw. “Ever.”

Ella snorted. “I don't care, because you do now. I'm in charge
of wardrobe, and unless you want to wear what you have on now until you stink so badly that no one comes near you, you're wearing this.”

I stared at the blue monstrosity. “I'm not your doll. You can't make me play dress-up.”

“Yes, I can,” said Ella. “And I will. I've got thousands of years of fashion to choose from, and I can make your life a nightmare if you try to fight it. Ever try to sit down in a hoop skirt?” She gave me a pointed look. “Behave, and I might consider giving you a day off every once in a while. But this is my choice, not yours. You gave yours up the moment you agreed to stay here.”

“Besides, everyone wears dresses here,” said Calliope brightly. “You can't say you don't like it until you give it a chance.”

Ella offered me the dress. “Your choice. Expensive, comfortable dresses you won't notice in a day or two, or jeans that'll stand up on their own in a week.”

Letting out a low growl in the back of my throat, I snatched it from her and stormed into the bathroom. She could make me wear it, but that didn't mean I had to like it.

 

Lacing me up took nearly twenty minutes, and that was without a corset. That's where I drew the line, and Ella wasn't stupid enough to try to force me into that, too. The dress fit me well without me suffocating myself, and that was good enough. I didn't need to have my chest forced up to my chin in the meantime.

Once they'd finished dressing me, Calliope sat me down and fussed with my mousy hair for a few minutes. She hummed as she worked, and any questions I tried to ask were either ignored or cut off by random bursts of song. Just as I started to wonder if
it would ever end, she announced that I was done and breakfast was ready.

Breakfast. I was so ravenous that I didn't even object as they forced my feet into a pair of heeled shoes. We would talk about those later, especially if I was expected to do stairs, but for now, as long as there was a promise of food, I'd put up with it.

Still feeling lost, I followed them out of the room, wishing I understood more about what was going on. Was this how every morning was going to go, or would I eventually be allowed to dress myself? Were they supposed to be my friends, like Calliope seemed to want to be, or were they supposed to keep an eye on me to make sure I didn't escape?

They weren't my most pressing questions, but those answers, I suspected, were ones only Henry could give me. In the meantime, there was still one response Calliope and Ella owed me.

“Calliope?” I said as she and Ella led me through the maze of rooms and corridors. Supposedly there was a breakfast room in the massive manor, but I wasn't so sure I believed them. It felt like we'd been wandering for hours. “What did you mean when you asked if I were better than the last one?”

She gave me a blank look. “The last one?”

“When you guys thought I was sleeping—you mentioned me being better than the last one. What last one?”

Calliope thought for a moment before realization dawned on her. “Oh! The last one. The last girl, I mean. The last one Henry had here.”