CHAPTER XXX

CHAPTER XXX

After Prometheus had been summoned away, Amara was not surprised to see a tall, lean god waiting for her against a bulletin board, one of his feet cocked and crossed against his other ankle, as she stepped out of the train carriage onto the platform. Well over six-foot five, Hermes was hard to miss. To humans, he must have looked like a basketball player. To Amara, he was the quickest god in history and, from her returning memory, a complete pain in the arse.

His curls had grown long and were looser than usual, though his beard was neatly trimmed close to his jawline. His slim forehead made way for ledged eyebrows of the same brown hair that had tints of orange when the sun hit it right. His nose had a wide bridge, keeping his eyes slightly further apart. The two of them could pass for brother and sister, albeit with one different parent.

Commuters continued to weave in between and behind the pair of them. The bulletin board Hermes was leaning against promoted the same brand of white trainers that were on his feet. In a slanted red were the words “supreme speed”, with the latest Olympic 100 metres winner pretending to dash off in them.

She cocked an eyebrow at Hermes and looked deliberately at hisfeet.

“Trying to fit in with the humans, arewe?”

“Speak for yourself, princess.”

Amara scowled. “I’m not a …”

“... I know what you are. Rumour on the Greek grapevine though is that Prometheus has claimed you as his own.”

Amara said nothing to that, choosing instead to turn to her left and walk along the platform. Hermes didn’t miss a beat, falling into step with her, one stride for her every two.

“What are you doinghere?”

Amara snorted. “Don’t be facetious. You know exactly what is going on or you wouldn’t be here.”

When Prometheus had been taken away, he hadn’t even been given the chance to kiss her goodbye. Instead he’d uttered a forlorn two words, “I’m sorry,” and departed.

He hadn’t even lookedback.

She knew he’d done it to protect her from those that watched. That hadn’t made it hurt any less. The next day, she’d leftEdinburgh.

She had contemplated staying. Athena had told her why they wanted her placed in Scotland before she’d been placed in this human body, which is why she had felt the tug. But Amara, on learning the goddesses had had a lot less information than they let on when they set her on this path, now felt like it was her right to determine where she went from here. And no matter that her priestess memories had returned, the human ones still existed. Being here hurt. Being here without him hurt.

Saying goodbye at the café had hurt too, though it was more a bittersweet kind of pain. Alice had given her a massive bear hug that had squeezed the breath out of Amara’s lungs. Graham, too, had hugged her ... but more with the embrace of a loving father letting his little girl go. The gentleness of which had caused painful tears to spring up in her eyes. Shaking it off, she had made the most of her last day in Edinburgh, making sure each customer received five minutes of her time.

The regulars told her of how they would miss her. Even one of the morning mums had bought her a coffee and a slice of cake to have on her lunch break as a goodbye gift. And then there was Rhonda andBessie.

“You go after him,” Rhonda told her, immediately assuming the reason for Amara’s departure before she could say anything else. “You don’t let one like that get away.” She patted Amara’s arm knowingly.

Bessie, meanwhile, handed her a knitted scarf that had been around her ownneck.

“To remind you of home here,” she had said. And Amara had pretended to be absorbed in the quality of the knitwork to hide the tears that had sprung into her eyes at the kind gesture. Finally, she had found a place that felt like home and now it had been tainted, by those who didn’t care.

And while she had understood the goddesses’ logic, to birth light in the place that held none any longer, they had been mistaken. The birth of anything was not about the geographical location, it was about who was present for it. Namely, family. The emphasis had always been on family. It was why the gods were built of Zeus’ lineage, not to obey him − most of them didn’t if they could avoid getting caught − but because of the familial blood tie. There was ancient magic in the blood tie, something that had transcended to the humans. Amara could feel it humming in her bones. It was why, in her human form, she had been obsessed with her lineage. The secret to her alchemy had not been to force it but to surround her with the people who would unlock it. And the only person who had helped with that had been sentaway.

Which was why, as Hermes found her, she was wearing that knitted purple and white scarf of Bessie’s, even though it wasn’t that cold, as she was on her way back to Father Michel and the Parisian parish in which she’d grown up. Where she’d ran amongst the pews, pretending to hide from the ‘demons’.

That young girl had had no idea, she thought, of what the real demons were like. The ones that whispered in your head late at night when no one else was awake to banish them. The ones that were trapped in bottles of liquor that, once escaped, couldn’t be coaxed back in. The ones that flogged at her back and made her work like a horse just to believe everything was good enough. The demons she had so desperately tried to keep at bay had appeared to be her friends, her crutches when true evil had entered her life, the fear the goddesses had spoken of.

Except now she had been a human, she could see how easy it was to do. What good had she done with the fear? Nothing. She’d tried to bury it, deep within her. Paper over it, like papier-mâché that at the first sign of water had crumbled. It had taken the white fire of knowledge to begin to burn it away.

She could have chosen to follow Prometheus back to Olympus but that, she acknowledged, would have undone all the sacrifice he had made. She knew how she could spread the message now and knew how to complete her task in a way that would honour his sacrifice. Besides, she didn’t want to go back and face those who had used her ... the goddesses. She couldn’t do it. The pride she had once felt in serving them had been stripped away with the harsh chemicals of human reality ... and biology.

Now that the white fire had stripped back the barriers to her soul’s memories, it was as if everything outside of her was exposed too. Humanity had been stripped of its outer shell and Amara could see all the subconscious thoughts swirling around them within. The conflict they held. The wounds they so desperately clung onto in the hopes no one would hurt them anymore. The projections they put upon each other. The life of the humans was far more brutal than any god in Olympus realised. Only Prometheus had warned her. If only she’dlistened.

Amara realised Hermes hadn’t spoken and was still followingher.

“I’m still a human. I have every right to be here. Hera can’t summon me back to berate me when I am the very thing I’m interfering with.”

It had taken Amara a solid twelve hours after Prometheus had left to figure out that loophole.

“It’s not Hera that summons you. It’sZeus.”

Amara stopped in her tracks at that. A commuter keeping pace behind her stopped short, bumped into her and muttered disgruntled curses as he tried to weave his way back into the pedestrian traffic around Amara andHermes.

“My point is still valid,” she said, though with such a faint tone even she didn’t believeherself.

“Except for the fact you are still a member of Olympus. It’s not an either/or situation, priestess. It’s a both/and.”

He had her there.

Amara cleared her throat and tried again.

“I was sent here with a task todo.”

“You aren’t abandoning your duties by following Zeus’ summons,” Hermes quipped back. “In fact, from where I’m standing, the only one you are abandoning right now isyourself.”

“Excuse me?!” Amara rounded on him.

Hermes rocked back on his heels, his hands in his pockets and shrugged nonchalantly. She continued glaring at him, willing him to explain himself, until he supposedly softened.

“Look, you know how human belief works now. Their world is a reflection of them. Why else would Prometheus abandon you if you hadn’t already abandoned yourself? It’s time to come home, priestess.”

Amara went to open her mouth and closed it again. Then repeated the action, making an excellent impersonation of a goldfish. She knew he was baiting her, trying to get her to agree to come with him. He was using her doubt against her … wasn’the?

Or was Hermesright?

She knew he was. About the humans at least. That was how they operated. Had the abandonment wound, that still felt raw and painful even now she understood it, caused Prometheus to leave her? Had he really been trying to protect her like she thought? Like he said? Had he really been dragged away? Or had it all been a ploy to complete the goddesses’ plan? Were they all laughing at her now, back in Olympus? Had Prometheus really been in on it the whole time? Was this the final blow to make her believe in love in order to do their bidding? Because that is what the gods did, she acknowledged. Whatever it took to make sure they got the outcome they wanted was never too much trouble ... forthem.

Had she gotten it so very wrong? Or was Hermes playing hernow?

“You’ll only know if you get the chance to confront him,” Hermes said, reading Amara’s face like a book. When she blushed, but still made no move to come with him, Hermes delivered the line that tied her hands no matter the answer to herconundrum.

“Trust me, priestess. You aren’t going to want to be late for thesentencing.”

“Whose?” shedemanded.

Hers or Prometheus’? Who had Zeus chosen topunish?

“You’ll have to come withme.”