Aphrodite (17 page)

“I think it’s possible,” Ares admitted. “The way Zeus made you . . . it’s like nothing any of us have ever seen before. Maybe you just weren’t built to operate outside of your realm. I mean, there’s got to be some reason Zeus tossed you into Poseidon’s realm right after he made you. Maybe he was keeping you weak until he moved everyone else into place.”

I narrowed my eyes, thinking that through. Zeus would have known placing me in Poseidon’s realm would bring my existence to the attention of one of two gods. Poseidon, of course, who at the time would have used a land-based deity popping up in his realm as an excuse to talk to Demeter, and everyone knew it. But Poseidon wasn’t the only one who would have noticed. Hades would have, too. After all, he had access to a prophet. Either way, all roads led to Persephone, who at the time had no built-in resistance to my charm.

“He didn’t teach you to control your powers,” Ares reminded me. “So you were weak in the ocean realm, but the second your feet touched land—”

“Wham.” My powers came back without any thought or direction. Persephone had tried to drown herself to get away from me. Hades had to transfer more power her way, just to return her to sanity. “That might explain why my powers are harder to access on the ship, but . . .” I frowned. “This doesn’t
feel
like I’m just disconnected from my powers. I had a full-scale panic attack last night. I’ve been getting claustrophobic, and crazy emotional. Something’s
wrong
with me. I can feel it.”

Ares drew in a deep breath and leaned against the glass wall. “I mean . . . you’ve been traumatized. What Zeus did to you, the way he used you—” He worked his jaw, his eyes distant as if he was searching for words. “That doesn’t go away just because you heal. It’s always there, hence the nightmares. With your powers in place, you could wake up from that and be fine in a matter of seconds. But without them . . .”

“I’m getting the physical side-effects.” I considered, rubbing my arms for warmth against the cold wind. I wanted to argue, but if any god knew trauma, it was War. “That tracks. Well, with any luck, your theory is right and I’ll be good as new once I get to the island today, and—” I stopped when I saw Ares shaking his head. “What?”

“This island’s too small to be considered fully outside of Poseidon’s realm. You may improve a bit, but the real test will be Nassau. In the meantime—” He shrugged out of his jacket and draped the garment around me. “See if this helps.”

The gesture felt oddly intimate. Ares and I had progressed
way
past hugging on our road trip last year, but having his jacket around my shoulders felt
really
good on a different level. Reassuring, somehow. The inside of the jacket retained Ares’s body heat and smelled a bit like burnt cinnamon. I felt grounded
for the first time since I’d stepped onto the ship. Almost like I was back in my realm. “This is your token,” I realized.

Tokens were objects from a god’s home realm that could act as a kind of conduit. Instead of struggling to draw power while in a foreign realm, a god could channel their power through their token, neatly avoiding all the yucky side-effects I’d felt since I set foot on Poseidon’s turf. Unfortunately, Zeus had held back my ability to create one. I’d tried.

“Ares, I can’t—”

When I started to slip my arms out of the sleeves, Ares tugged me toward him using the edges of the jacket, and zipped it, his fingers never deviating from the tiny piece of metal. When he reached the hollow of my neck, he paused. I tore my gaze from his hand and looked into his eyes.

“I can make another one. You, I can’t replace. Be careful?”

My heart stuttered at the words unspoken, the silent promises in his eyes. I’d been
so
mad at him, and it was easy to stay angry while he was gone because he wasn’t around to object. But I couldn’t hang on to my rage anymore. “Gods,” I managed to whisper. “You make it hard to hate you.”

“I try.” His lips twitched up in a smirk.

I leaned into him, tension easing out of my shoulders when his arms wrapped around me. “I miss this,” I admitted, keeping my gaze fastened to his shoes. “Us. Can we just go back?”

He squeezed my shoulders. “Aphrodite . . .”

“I don’t have expectations,” I said, hurriedly, unable to stop talking now that I’d already stooped to desperation. I couldn’t sink any lower, so why not keep drowning? “I know I’m a mess. So if it was just a fling . . .” I waved my hands. “So what? It was a
great
fling. You didn’t need to—”

“It wasn’t a fling. Not to me.”

“—leave.” The word was out of my mouth before I processed what he’d said, and somehow, knowing I hadn’t misinterpreted or overstepped, made me feel worse. I looked up at him so fast I almost clipped his chin. “What?”

“It was more.” He glanced down at the deck, then looked back up to me, a fire burning in his eyes. “
You
were more.”

“Stop it.” I moved away from him, shivering when I stepped out of his arms. “You don’t need pretty words or grand gestures. I’m a sure thing, remember? I never asked for more, never expected it from you. So don’t insult me by trying to pretend that I actually mattered. I was
fine
with—”

“You do matter.” He stepped toward me, then seemed to think better of it.

“I told you
everything
.” I couldn’t keep the raw pain out of my voice. “And you
left
. For over a
year
. Just slipped away in the middle of the night like a coward. You don’t do that to people who
matter
.”

“You’re right.” He dropped his hand. “You’re absolutely right. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I know,” I said unzipping the coat and holding it out to him. “So don’t do it again.”

Chapter XXII

I RETURNED TO the suite, feeling numb with exhaustion and pain. I’d never felt this tired before, mentally, physically, or emotionally. Gods, if being human felt like this, maybe those short life spans were a mercy. With effort, I pushed Ares out of my mind. I couldn’t muster up the energy to be angry with him anymore, and the alternative hurt every bit as badly. Best not to think about him at all.

To my surprise, Elise lounged at the bench near my door. “Oh, gods.” Her eyes widened when she saw me. “You look like crap.”

“Well, it was a long night.” I slid my keycard into the slot and turned the knob, pleased Poseidon had already removed the shield around the room. “Come in?”

She followed me over the threshold, careful not to let the door slam, and raised her eyebrows as she took in the suite. The wall of windows allowed bright, morning sunbeams to stretch across the carpet. “Wow. This is huge.”

I shrugged, flopping down on the white couch and putting my feet up on the wicker table, too exhausted to care about maintaining appearances. Where was Adonis? The squeal of the pipes turning on and the rush of running water from the upstairs shower answered me before I could even voice the question. Adonis’s showers could take years, so if I could send Elise on her way, maybe I could get a bit of rest in before we headed to shore. “Elise?”

“Uh . . .” Elise jerked her head away from the paintings of sea foam and turned her attention to me. “I realized I never told you where to meet us for breakfast. We were all gonna meet up in about . . .” She pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen. “Thirty minutes? I can tell the girls to push it back if you need more time. With all the equipment and stuff that needs to be set up, it’ll be a bit before we’re needed on shore.”

Crap, I’d forgotten about breakfast. “Yeah, sure.” As much as I wanted to rest, I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to find out more about Elise, even if she would be going to the Underworld in a few hours. Plus . . . I kind of liked her. She was randomly friendly, and I knew that had nothing to do with my charm. “Just give me a few minutes once he gets out of the shower. I have to change and at least wash my face.” And either text Poseidon to reapply the shield, or drag Adonis to the Lido deck with me.

“Of course.” She moved in front of me, pushing back the coffee table so she could perch on the fragile-looking wicker. “So . . . Tantalus interrupted us before you could answer me back at the club. And then a bunch of gods searched everyone’s room last night and no one remembers. I know you guys don’t just go around doing that unless something
really
bad is going on, so—”

“How could you know if we do or not?” I leaned forward. “Most people forget when we charm them to. This could be a nightly occurrence and unless someone like you happens to be there, people would never hear about it.”

She frowned, glancing up the stairs when the water shut off. “Yeah, okay, maybe. But I’ve gone my whole life without seeing a god, and now I’m on a ship full of them. That makes me nervous. Should I be?”

“No, because we’re getting you out of here.” Maybe I was making a mistake in trusting her, but she deserved to know she was in danger, and I felt too tired to come up with a plausible half-truth to get her off my back. So, instead, I brought her up to speed.

“You’re . . . helping us.” She leaned back, looking dumbfounded. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Thank you?” I suggested with a yawn big enough to crack my jaw.

“Yeah.” She had an odd expression on her face. “Thanks.”

“Elise?” Adonis stood at the top of the staircase, dressed in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. His hair looked strange when damp. Like liquid metal. “What are you doing here?”

She looked up at him, and in that moment, I recognized her from the magazines, billboards, and glossy posters in the mall. She modeled makeup or facial wash or something. Strange how I hadn’t remembered before.

“Adonis.” Her voice went perfectly neutral. Pleasant, yet distant. “We need to talk.” She turned to me, the fake warmth in her eyes creeping me out. “Can we have just a minute? We won’t leave the room, I promise. You can even shield it.”

“Of course,” I agreed, only slightly surprised she knew about shields. “I’ll go take a quick shower and then we can grab breakfast.”

“Uh—” Adonis protested, but I darted up the stairs and into the bathroom before he could articulate his objection. She couldn’t charm him, and she wouldn’t be able to leave if she tried anything. Plus, these rooms weren’t soundproof. If Adonis needed me, I wasn’t far.

Can you shield the room again for a few minutes?
I texted to Poseidon.
Something came up.

Done,
he replied.

The passengers who were killed last night haven’t been noticed yet,
I texted back. No way the boat would dock, business as usual, and no chance every single one of those passengers was traveling alone. Someone should have noticed by now, and my charm to keep everyone calm and in their rooms would have worn off at dawn.
Is that our doing, or does that mean something else with charm is already on board making people forget?

He didn’t respond for a long moment.
Be careful
.

I swallowed hard, set down the phone, and turned on the water. Not us, then.

“. . . thinks we’re in
danger!
” Elise’s voice rose over the spray of the water I’d just turned on, whipping toward me like daggers.

“I
know,
okay . . . should have told . . .“

“People died! This isn’t the time for secrets.”

I stepped into the shower and their voices faded to indistinct murmurs. The scalding hot water was just what I needed to wake up and unknot the tense muscles in my back. Gods, these last few days had been brutal. Humming to myself, I scrubbed my skin with enough fervor to leave it raw. As if ridding myself of the sweat and grossness from searching all those staterooms last night would make the tension and fear wash away with it. Satisfied I was squeaky clean, I turned the water to cold. Any sleepiness I felt before fled under the freezing water. I gasped, my heart pounding, and turned off the shower, reaching for one of the white fluffy towels.

“How can you do it?” Elise demanded. “Pretend to care and then not warn—”

I scowled, finding the towel damp, and stepped out of the shower, dripping and cold to search for one Adonis hadn’t already used.

“Here we go,” I murmured, grabbing a shorter towel off the rack by the toilet. When I wrapped the terry cloth around me, it
almost
closed. “What is this, a washcloth?” What was the point of a towel this size? Seriously? “Oh well.” I flipped my hair and started scrunching it dry.

“I
do
care.” Adonis’s voice exploded through the suite. “Do you think it was an easy decision? That I want anyone to get hurt? It’s all screwed up, and I’m
sorry
, okay? I should have told you. I shouldn’t have—” He took a deep breath before continuing at a lower volume. “Given the stakes, I don’t know what else I could have done.”

He had a point. The more people who knew the situation, the more likely my presence here would be noted as a threat. Of course, last night blew those concerns out of the water, but I hadn’t thought to give Adonis the go-ahead to warn his friends.

Dry enough, I opened my suitcase, searching for beachwear. I slipped into my aquamarine bikini and pulled a sheer, white swimsuit cover on over it. There was no point in doing anything to my hair beyond a quick comb-through because the stylists would be working on it in what . . . ? One hour? Two? I glanced at my phone. I’d been close. An hour and a half. Sliding into sandals, I inspected myself in the mirror.

“Not bad.” My skin still looked flushed from the shower, and my damp curls hung around my face. I teased my hair a bit, trying to achieve what Melissa groused was my “annoyingly perfect, carelessly sexy” ’do. Not as easy without a glamour but—

“Don’t!” Elise sounded near tears.

I sighed, studying the mirror in an attempt to find something, anything else that would make noise and use up some time. I was trying to give them privacy. The least they could do was keep their voices down.

“I don’t want to be a part of this,” she continued. “You shouldn’t be either. When we leave, when we’re safe, we can—”

“Oh, screw it,” I muttered, opening the bathroom door. They’d had way more than a minute anyway. “We need someone who can lie,” I explained, ignoring their surprised looks as I descended the staircase. Whatever. If they didn’t want me involved in the conversation, they should have whispered. “So if he wants to stay—” My eyes met Adonis’s. “He’s welcome.”

“Well.” Elise crossed her arms with a huff. “He certainly can lie.”

“Elise.” If Adonis was trying to keep the frustration from his tone, he failed.

“
Adonis.”

By the Styx! Was this what their relationship had been like?
Elise, Adonis, Elise, Adonis.
This conversation sounded like something out of one of the overly emotional animes Persephone watched. I considered throwing my name in there for variety, when Adonis seemed to recover his vocabulary.

“We’re going to fix this.”

Elise’s glare could have frozen flames. “You’d better.” She looked at me, tucking her hair behind her ears again. A nervous gesture, I realized, as she spoke. “I have one shoot today, but after that, I’ll tell everyone I’m not feeling well and head straight back on board. If you meant what you said about getting me off this ship and out of the middle of all this—” She waved her hands around, eyes glittering with unshed tears. “Then that’ll be a good opportunity.”

“I do,” I assured her.

She nodded. “Then let’s not waste any more time. I’ll cancel breakfast. Adonis, order room service, you know what I like. Make sure to get an energy drink for her.” She motioned to me. “No offense, but you still look like you’re about to fall out. And you should probably get whoever is going to be playing me here as well. There’s some stuff my doppelgänger is going to need to know if she’s going to have a prayer of pulling this off.”