away, once given. But you will grow old. You will wither. You will not be able to die.”
“I would prefer that!” Her words were defiant, but her voice trembled with fear.
“Fine!” I snapped.
“Fine!” she yelled back.
I vanished in a column of flame, having succeeded in making things very weird indeed.
Over the centuries, the Sibyl had withered, just as I’d threatened. Her physical form lasted longer than any ordinary mortal’s, but the pain I had caused her, the lingering agony…Even if I’d had regrets about my hasty curse, I couldn’t have taken it back any more than she could take back her wish. Finally, around the end of the Roman Empire, I’d heard rumors that the Sibyl’s body had crumbled away entirely, yet still she could not die. Her attendants kept her life force, the faintest whisper of her voice, in a glass jar.
I assumed that the jar had been lost sometime after that. That the Sibyl’s grains of sand had finally run out. But what if I was wrong? If she were still alive, I doubted she was using her faint whisper of a voice to be a pro-Apollo social media influencer.
I deserved her hatred. I saw that now.
Oh, Jason Grace…I promised you I would remember what it was to be human. But why did human shame have to hurt so much? Why wasn’t there an off button?
And thinking of the Sibyl, I couldn’t help considering that other young woman with a curse: Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano.
I’d been completely blindsided the day I strolled into the Olympian throne room, fashionably late for our meeting as usual, and found Venus studying the luminous image of a young lady floating above her palm. The goddess’s expression had been weary and troubled…something I didn’t often see.
“Who’s that?” I asked, foolishly. “She’s beautiful.”
That’s all the trigger Venus needed to unleash her fury. She told me Reyna’s fate: no demigod would ever be able to heal her heart. But that did NOT mean I was the answer to Reyna’s problem. Quite the contrary. In front of the entire assembly of gods, Venus announced that I was unworthy. I was a disaster. I had ruined every relationship I was in, and I should keep my godly face away from Reyna, or Venus would curse me with even worse romantic luck than I already had.
The mocking laughter of the other gods still rang in my ears.
If not for that encounter, I might never have known Reyna existed. I certainly had no designs on her. But we always want what we cannot have. Once Venus declared Reyna off-limits, I became fascinated with her.
Why had Venus been so emphatic? What did Reyna’s fate mean?
Now I thought I understood. As Lester Papadopoulos, I no longer had a godly face. I was neither mortal, nor god, nor demigod. Had Venus somehow known this would happen someday? Had she shown me Reyna and warned me off knowing full well that it would make me obsessed?
Venus was a wily goddess. She played games within games. If it was my fate to be Reyna’s true love, to wash away her curse as Frank had done for Hazel, would Venus allow it?
But at the same time, I was a romantic disaster. I had ruined every one of my relationships, brought nothing but destruction and misery to the young men and women I’d loved. How could I believe I would be any good for the praetor?
I lay in my cot, these thoughts tossing around in my mind, until late afternoon. Finally, I gave up on the idea of rest. I gathered my supplies—my quiver and bow, my ukulele and my backpack—and I headed out. I needed guidance, and I could think of only one way to get it.
Reluctant arrow
Grant me this boon: permission
To skedaddleth
I HAD THE FIELD of Mars all to myself.
Since no war games were scheduled that evening, I could frolic through the wasteland to my heart’s content, admiring the wreckage of chariots, broken battlements, smoldering pits, and trenches filled with sharpened spikes. Another romantic sunset stroll wasted because I had no one to share it with.
I climbed an old siege tower and sat facing the northern hills. With a deep breath, I reached into my quiver and pulled out the Arrow of Dodona. I’d gone several days without talking to my annoying far-sighted projectile weapon, which I considered a victory, but now, gods help me, I could think of no one else to turn to.
“I need help,” I told it.
The arrow remained silent, perhaps stunned