1. Cameron

Chapter 1

Cameron

I stared up at the mansion looming overhead. Its shadow eclipsed the entire circular drive and half the manicured lawn at my back. My palms were sweating, my heart stuttering a jerky rhythm in my chest. I’d never had a job interview before. Jobs had always just been sort of… handed to me. Well, to be honest, I’d only had one job, and it was more like I’d been hand-selected for it. Chosen , if you will.

Forcing myself to swallow, the sides of my throat dry and gritty, like I’d swallowed half the beach, I raised my hand and pressed the doorbell. The light musical peal echoed somewhere inside, and I stood there, waiting for someone to answer the door. With how big the house was, it might take a while—like a day or two.

“Coming!” I heard someone call faintly. The deep voice was accompanied by a faraway patter of rapid footsteps. They slowly got louder as someone came down a seemingly endless flight of stairs. “Hang on! Please don’t leave! ”

I sighed, shifting on the balls of my feet, willing my stomach to settle. It’s no big deal , I told myself. It’s just a job . There were more than a hundred million people employed in this country alone, and they’d all gone through the process of being hired. How hard could it be? Besides, if I didn’t get the job, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Nope, been there, done that, I thought bitterly . I didn’t even get a lousy t-shirt.

At long last, the door swung open, interrupting my thoughts, and I felt my jaw drop as I gaped at the man in front of me as the scent of apple blossoms washed over me. “Ah! There you are.” He gave me a quick appraising once-over. “Come, come,” he said, grinning so wide it was almost comical, gesturing for me to follow him.

He was… well, ethereal was one word for it, I supposed. He had long blond hair that seemed to be flowing in a non-existent breeze, and his eyes were an unnatural violet color. His skin was unblemished, and he was dressed in some kind of silk sheet draped loosely around his body, like a toga. If immortal gods were my type, he would fit the bill.

I stepped through the door after him. “Uh… hi, I’m—”

“You’re here about the wanted ad?” he asked, already walking away, his voice echoing in the cavernous entryway. A grand staircase wound up and out of sight, the ceiling vaulted at least three floors up.

I closed the door behind me, my eyes taking in the excessive wealth. “Yes. I talked to you on the phone. I’m Cameron Phelps?” It came out like a question, but I swore I knew my own name.

I saw him shrug just before he disappeared through an archway, and I scurried to catch up. The room we entered was just as lavish as the entryway, with floor-to-ceiling windows, plush area rugs, and a grand piano at the far end. He tipped his head to look over his shoulder. “Sorry, I don’t remember names. I got a lot of phone calls. No one has been the right fit yet, though.” He dropped down onto a chaise lounge and held his hand out expectantly. “Resume?”

“Oh, right.” My stomach gave another uncomfortable squirm as I handed it to him. It wasn’t like I had a lot of job experience. Though he hadn’t offered me a seat, I perched myself onto the edge of the sofa across from him, watching as he read the resume, trying to analyze what he was thinking.

Did his eyebrow just twitch? What did that mean? He was smiling. Was that good? Or maybe I was about to get laughed out of here.

He stared at the single sheet of paper for far longer than it should’ve taken to read the few lines. Finally, he looked up at me, a hopeful expression on his face that did things to my insides. “Can I be honest with you for a second? This is… very impressive. Not many people can claim to be a Chosen One. And you saved the world when you were only 14? Yes, this is really great.”

“Oh!” My breath left me in a whoosh as relief flooded my system. “Your ad didn’t say much about what you were looking for.”

“Well, to be fair, I wasn’t really sure myself. I’ve only been a superhero for a few weeks myself, but anyone who’s ever seen a movie or read a comic book knows that all the best heroes have sidekicks. Batman had Robin, Captain America had Bucky, Snoopy had Woodstock. I just knew once I found the right sidekick for me, we would just… click. Y’know?”

“Right. Yeah. Makes sense.” I wasn’t actually sure it made sense at all. “So… what’s your superhero name?” Was that a rude question to ask?

His face lit up, though—like, literally. He was actually glowing. He stood up from the chair and stood in a typical superhero pose, fists on his hips, head tilted toward the crystal chandelier. “I am… Phobos! God of fear!” After an awkward moment of silence, he peeked down at me from the corner of his eye.

I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, so what did I do? I fucking clapped and said, “Woo-hoo!” with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. I fought the wince at how bad an actor I was. Shit, I was never getting this job.

Instead of being mad at me, though, he smiled smugly and draped himself back across his lounge, the picture of an aloof, all-powerful god. “I know, right? I have super strength and speed, I can fly, and obviously, I can instill panic in the masses and harness it to boost my powers.”

“Obviously,” I repeated with a stilted laugh, picking absently at a loose thread on the hem of my shirt. “So, when you say god of fear, you don’t mean you’re like a god god… right? Like, descended from the heavens? Or is that like a stage name?”

He sighed and waved my question away. “Don’t be weird about it, but my parents are kind of a big deal. Not me, though,” he said, with no small amount of bitterness. “I’m what’s considered a ‘lesser god.’” Phobos used air quotes around the word and gave an epic eyeroll. “My twin brother and I have been major players in nearly every war in history, but you know how gods are.” I didn’t, in fact, but he just kept going. “Up on their high horses, thinking their pantheon is better than all the others.” I got the impression this was a sensitive topic, and I was fully prepared for him to rant. My old handler had been a cynical bastard, so I was used to listening to people complain.

Phobos blew out a sigh. “My father is Ares—maybe you’ve heard of him? Anyway, our family business is war, which sounds big and important, I know, but with the state of the modern world, they don’t really need our help anymore. They seem perfectly capable of killing each other without our help, so I’ve decided to strike out on my own. My dad, of course, is skeptical. He doesn’t think being a superhero is a ‘ real job .’” He scoffed, a steely glint in his eyes. “I’d really love to show him how wrong he is.”

After a moment, Phobos seemed to realize that we were still in the middle of a job interview. He blinked a few times. “Where were we? Oh, right! So, what can you do? Shoot laser beams from your eyeballs? Spit acid? Talk to animals?” He propped his chin in his palm, watching me expectantly, as if waiting to see me save the world all over again.

“Well, I have prophetic dreams to help avoid the apocalypse, which, you know, I… avoided, so I guess it’s kind of a useless power now. But there is some lingering precognition.”

A crease had formed between Phobos’s eyebrows. “Ah, I see.”

I was losing him! I really, really needed this job. “I have a connection with the elements too, like water, earth, air, fire.” I swallowed hard, a bead of sweat trickling down the back of my neck. “Oh! I have telekinesis. That’s cool, right?” I didn’t have the best aim when moving objects, but he didn’t need to know that.

He nodded. “Yeah, floating shit is cool.” He stuck the tip of his thumb into his mouth, biting the nail. “And you do have your own car, right? It really is a must. I can’t be driving you around all the time.”

“Yeah, totally.” I nodded, trying to keep my bubbly hope from spilling out. Be chill, man .

Phobos frowned, like he was thinking it over. “I dunno…” But then his face split into a beaming grin, all super-white teeth. “Aw, hell, I’m just kidding. Of course you’ve got the job!”

“Are you serious?!” I popped off the couch like I’d been jolted with a cattle prod. “Like, for real?” All hope of keeping a calm appearance was thrown straight out the window, but I figured it was okay to let my inner geek out. He’d already offered me the job; he couldn’t take it back, right ?

He chuckled like he found me amusing. “Yes, I’m serious. You’re clearly the best candidate for the job. You’re in great shape,” he said, his eyes roaming down my body with an appreciative glance, “and I can feel the energy you’re putting out. It’s electric! I just know we are going to have the best time together. Now, there’s just the small matter of your name.”

“My—I’m sorry, what?” Had I blacked out for a minute? I’d clearly missed something.

Phobos gestured toward me. “Well, what kind of name is Cameron?”

I cocked my head to the side. “Uh, it’s Scottish, I think.”

“No, no, I just mean…” He sat up, his skin glowing, hair rippling, and his eyes went full black. “‘Behold, the mighty… Cameron !’ Falls a little flat, don’t you think?” Phobos leaned back, letting the god act slip away, until he was just the blond Adonis once again.

I shrugged. “I-I guess.” Nobody had an issue with my name back when I’d been the Chosen One.

“Would you be open to changing it?”

“Sorry?”

“Your name. Can we change it?”

I scratched at the back of my head. “Um, to what?”

“I dunno, like Boy Lightning or Wonder Thunder or something.” I couldn’t stop the look of disgust that briefly took over my face, and he shrugged. “Okay, I admit, it needs work. Let’s just stick a pin in it for now. I’ll think of something.”

He stood from the chaise and held his hand out to shake. “Welcome to the team.”

If I’d been paying attention to my senses, the ones I’d just tried to brag about, then I might’ve noticed the warning prickle down my spine. But I didn’t pay it any mind, because I was excited; this job meant a paycheck and being able to pay my rent and phone bill, maybe cutting down on my ramen intake to only three times a week. So, I reached out and let him engulf my hand in his overlarge grip.

When our skin came into contact, I felt the ground lurch beneath me, like I was standing on the deck of a ship in the middle of the Atlantic during a violent storm. I smelled smoke and iron, felt a blast of scorching air across my face, tiny sparks of hellfire singeing my flesh, before a veritable tsunami of pure energy flooded through my veins, burning me from the inside out. Past, present, future, everything that ever was, nothing but blinding pain.

An image imprinted itself on my brain, of Phobos, bloody and broken in a heap on the ground, his face a mask of horror as a void of never-ending blackness opened beneath me. I felt a scream building inside me, but when I tipped my head back, no sound came out. A chasm split straight down the middle of the earth, the ground swallowing me whole, and I fell… fell…

I gasped, my eyes flying open. When had I closed them? The air was crisp and clean, not smoky at all, and the dappled sun shone through the tall windows. How much time had passed? It felt like hours.

Phobos was still talking, completely unaware of whatever just happened. “…And then once you’re back with your stuff, we’ll sit down and get all your banking information sorted out.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I sputtered, looking around for any sign of what I’d seen, but everything was exactly as it had been before he shook my hand, aside from the light sheen of sweat I felt dotting my forehead. “What stuff?”

He arched a perfectly sculpted brow at me. “I assume you do have some possessions, yes? So, as I was saying, you’ll have your choices of rooms in the west wing. I’m still trying to fill all the staff positions, but once we have a chef, we can talk about meal planning, likes and dislikes.” Was he… asking me to move in?

I couldn’t admit that I’d just blacked out and missed the entire conversation to what felt like a premonition—an ominous one at that—so I just smiled and nodded, playing along. I bullshitted my way through the next few minutes of chitchat then said, “Well, I’d better go get my stuff,” and waited to see if he would dispute it. When he didn’t, I headed for the door.

“See you soon, roomie .” Phobos followed me to the front foyer, but when he went to pat me on the back, I dodged out of the way like I hadn’t seen him. I didn’t know what that burst of energy I got off him was, but I was in no mood for a repeat.

I kept it together all the way down the wide bricked steps, until I climbed into my car. I slid the key into the ignition with shaking fingers, then just sat there, gripping the wheel until I could find gravity again.

“Please, gods, not again,” I whispered, closing my eyes.

It had been ten years since I saved the world from Nefarious. Ten years since I’d faced certain death and against all odds, survived. I could still remember how it felt to have the life drained from my body until I was nothing more than an empty shell.

It had been ages since I last experienced a premonition of any kind, and this one was… bad . Like, a thousand times worse than anything I’d felt before, and I’d been awake . That had never happened before. My skills had always been limited to dream walking.

Premonitions were impossible to interpret clearly. They were like wading through a sludgy pond and trying to guess what you felt with your toes beneath the surface. So, there was a chance that Phobos could be bad news and should be avoided. Or—and this was just as likely—maybe he would need my help to stop the end of the world. Maybe this was exactly where I was meant to be.

I took a steadying breath and told myself I couldn’t base my decision on whether or not to take the job based solely on my need for cash, but… My stomach growled, reminding me that I’d only had a packet of saltines and half a can of flat cola for breakfast, and that was six hours ago. It was no wonder I’d felt like shit lately.

I needed this job, desperately, so I would tell myself whatever lie needed to pretend I was making the right decision. My hands were steadier when I turned the key and drove back to my shitty little apartment to pack my things. Tonight, I would be eating a real, hot meal and sleeping in a mansion. The end of the world could wait another day.