Killing Olympia

I had lost count of the number of times I'd almost died last year, and in all honesty, sometimes I end up standing in the shower and staring at my hands, wondering, How the hell did you manage to survive all of that? I mean, I've seen things I thought I'd never see in my life. I've done things I thought I would never be able to do. And for some reason, going inside the house was the one thing I just couldn't do. I got as far as the front lawn before my legs decided that right here, right now, was just fine. I was cold, I was hungry, and I was shaking. My lips were dry and so was my tongue, and swallowing only made me wince. I can smell her. My powers might not be what they were, but her scent was enough, even without the powers, to know exactly where she was. Carly's sleek white sedan was parked in our driveway, too, meaning she was inside the house with her daughter. And… And maybe I should go.

You know what would be way easier right now? Talking to Ava, that scoundrel. I wondered what she was up to right about now, and heck! Someone needed to make sure she wasn't up to any good, and besides, I also needed to make sure Lower Olympus was doing alright, and with all those loose threads I needed to deal with—

"Rylee?" Kayana said as she shut the car's door. She stood beside me, my blazer over her shoulder as she put a hand on mine. She looked at the house, then at me. "Ah, of course. This is what the youth call 'butterflies?'"

I blinked, then glanced up at her. "Have you never fallen for someone?"

"Neither a man nor a woman has ever made me pause," she said with a slight shrug. "My mother always said I was too ambitious for my own good, that I'll never bear any grandchildren for her—and she was correct. Stars would have to be split and mountains would have to be shifted for me to even consider presenting my heart to another person, but what I do understand is that you've forgotten entirely how to be Rylee instead of Olympia."

You sound like Emelia. I swear, it's like all these people have secret meetings about me.

"It's not that," I muttered.

"It's guilt as well," she said quietly. "Afraid of judgement, afraid that, as soon as you enter that house, your life won't be so simple. But bravery isn't just strength, Rylee. It's also courage—you have plenty of it, and for her sake, you've stayed strong, you've stayed alive, and now it's time to reap the rewards of all your hard labor. The world has tried to put you on your knees, and it has failed—being able to see Bianca is your way of taking back the control of your personal life that was ripped out of your hands. And if it makes it any easier, I can open the door."

I looked Cleopatra up and down. "Do you always talk like that, in metaphors and rhymes and stuff?"

Kayana smiled at me. "I quite like the sound of my voice. I've spent so long alone and outside of New Olympus that I've forgotten the comfort of speaking. Besides," she said, pinching my cheek. "It entertains you."

"'Entertains me'?" I said. "I am this close to walking around with a dictionary when I'm with you."

"Maybe one day you, too, will speak like me," she said. "Our conversations will be lush and long and we can speak into the night underneath the moonlight of old and only fall asleep once our words are bled dry."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, now you're just doing that on purpose."

"Purpose," she echoed, nodding slowly. "Yes, purpose, a word so intertwined into the human condition—"

"Okay, okay. Jeez, I get it," I said. "You sound like my old English teacher."

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"And just like that," she said, smiling, "you're no longer tense, and you can finally face her."

And just like that, we were suddenly a few centimeters away from the front door. I blinked, but she hadn't teleported or anything of the sort—she'd sweet talked me all the way here, her hand still on my back and that soft, dazzling smile on her face. I was about to tell her that wasn't fair, because I was strictly off my diet of psychological warfare after I turned Lucas into charred human remains. And then I heard her voice, and it was like my ears stopped hearing just about half the city in a heartbeat. It wasn't laughter, it wasn't whispering—it was there. Actually there.

For a moment, the irony of this entire situation slid down my spine as cold as any early January day. You can move faster than most people can blink and you can lift heavier than most people can ever imagine—Gods know you can probably take a tank round to the chest and get back up for another. And yet here I was, barely able to put my hand on the door handle and step inside my own house. My right hand alone had done so much damage, taken so many lives, that it was starting to feel kinda wrong that I was planning on even touching Bianca with them. I almost felt like I needed to go and shower once, twice, maybe three more times with scaldingly hot water. The kind that would turn my skin red and my hair flaccid and the bathroom chokingly steamy. I shook my head. Gods, you're a hot mess. But I'd deal with those problems later. For now, I really did need to get my act together.

Last year taught me Bianca wasn't going to be around forever, and neither was I.

Two versions of me in Gods know how many realities had even married her. The rest probably weren't so lucky. I didn't know if I was gonna end up being the third, or just another one who ended up living hundreds of years without her. Guess it didn't matter at the end of the day. All I needed to do was turn a handle and walk in.

How hard could it be?

"I hate to come at a time like this," a voice said. I shut my eyes and groaned internally. The smell of smoke and sulfurous darkness blew through the air as the wind picked up. I looked over my shoulder. Ava stood on the curb, her coat snapping in the wind and back to wearing a suit that went all the way up to her throat. She removed her sunglasses, opened her mouth to speak, then stared at Cleopatra. Ava took a slow step backward and shut her mouth. She looked at me instead. "I see that you've made powerful friends. I'd feel offended, but we both know even an Olympian can't replace what we've got." If I'd finished eating the chili fries Cleopatra bought me, I would've barfed into my own mouth. "But judging by her…realness," Ava said, taking another step back as Kayana turned around and walked to the edge of the porch, looking down at her. "I'll see you another time. The job's not done yet, and I figured you needed a few days to recharge. We've got to take advantage when we can, how we can, and soon. Plus there are many people who want to see you, and yes, yes, I know the last time I said that, I introduced you to my gang of mercenaries and supervillains—but it's different this time. Much more…heroic."

"I suggest you go home," Cleopatra said. "For your own sake. I'd not want to bloody a good day."

"You're a lot smaller than I thought you'd be," Ava said with half a smile. "But I guess I'll be seeing more of you around whether I want to or not. See you around, Rylee. I'll be sending dossiers of updates. And don't forget where your home is—peaceful suburbia isn't where you keep weaponry. Girls like you don't do white picket fences, but I guess I'll leave you to learn that eventually." She turned around, then stopped. "Frankie says Rhea is doing fine, and so are the others. Your blood transfusion means that they'll be ready by the time you come to see them."

I frowned, then turned and looked at her. "And when do you know when I'm coming back?"

"There's too much blood on your hands for you to keep acting like you're normal, Rylee," she said plainly. "Just being here makes me feel out of place. We're cut from the same cloth, and you know that as much as I do."

I stepped forward, but Cleopatra put her hand on my shoulder and shook her head. "Sometimes," she said quietly, turning me around. "The best answer is none at all. You told me what Dennie said about Lucas to you, that the only way you can win with some of these people is to prove them wrong. But that's for later. For now, she waits."

The stink of sulfur vanished, but the patch of grass she'd briefly stepped on remained black and dry and smoking. I tensed my jaw and looked at the door, shut my eyes, breathed in through my nose, then relaxed my shoulders. Whatever, I thought. Like Ava knows what's good for me. Like she knows what having peace feels like.

But…do I?