Page 42 of Invoking Ruin

I suck on my teeth and don’t answer him.

He catches on, his shoulders sagging. “Wow. You really don’t want them to find me.”

No, I don’t. For his sake as much as mine. “As long as you stay away from any sacred sites, they shouldn’t find you. If I do this right…” Right doesn’t seem to be the best word for scattering immensely powerful relics at random around the Mediterranean.

“I’ll buy us some time,” I say at last. “After this, we’ll go someplace safe. Somewhere they won’t look.”

For a moment, I think he isn’t going to say anything, but then he drags me into him, pressing our bodies tight. I lift my head, and his forehead presses against mine, trapping me with his gaze.

“You owe me, Vita. Don’t you dare let them keep you from paying up,” he growls, making me shiver before letting me go and stepping away.

The sudden loss of his touch has me staggering. I stare up at him, that stubborn, terrible curse called hope rising against all odds.

Pandora should have left that bitch in the box.

“I’ll find you,” I promise him.

Then, I leave before I can say anything else incurably stupid.

The streets of Athens are always crowded, and today is no exception. The paved roads jut up against flagstone sidewalks and buildings anywhere from decades to centuries old. People pass by on foot, bike or car, eager to get home after a day of work. Blending in with the crowd is easy enough. I’m dressed as a tourist, and that’s all they see. Staying in line with all of these oblivious mortals is my best disguise against my fellow gods.

They’re looking for divinity, and I have no desire to show it to them.

The streets are much changed from the days I walked them. Horses, palanquins, and chariots have all been replaced by cars and buses. Plenty of areas of the city are still walkable, and I keep to those side streets, even if it means my journey takes a little longer.

The Parthenon looms in the distance, staring off from its hill like a sentry, but I’m not going to reach it. There were many, many temples in Athens once, including a temple dedicated to Apollo. I could throw a stone and hit one of his ancient holy sites, and fortunately, the closest one takes only half an hour to reach on foot.

I hope Sandro didn’t wander too far. He might have left me altogether. I would deserve it.

But judging by the way he touches me, I don’t think he will.

The temple I’m seeking stands next to the ruins of a temple of Zeus, and not too far from a big field of tennis courts.

This ancient temple isn’t a popular site these days. Apollo has a much better one on the Acropolis, itself. The structure has not a standing column left, just holes in the ground where they used to be. A copse of trees and a high wall separates Apollo’s territory from the more popular temple of Zeus, and the normal flow of traffic beyond. This late in the day, with the sun dipping toward the horizon, there’s nary a tourist or indeed a mortal in sight.

Ideal for dropping off expensive-looking magic goods.

I hadn’t even realized until this moment how late it’s gotten. We’ve been running all day, first to Corinth, and now here.

I’ve been running a lot longer than that. Just a little more, and maybe, I can rest. If Sandro doesn’t strangle me when he gets his answers, that is.

I tighten my grip on the lyre and step into the ruin.

When I was in Corinth, I never got close enough to the heart of Aphrodite’s temple to feel the tingling awareness of another god’s power. I feel Apollo’s, now. This was a place for the sick, once, and the energy of healing is thick in the air.

It makes me itch.

There’s a bare spot in the center of the ruin where his statue must have rested. A perfect place to leave an offering. I approach it slowly, my senses on high alert for any sign of my pursuers.

The lyre hums out a tune as I lay it down. A call to its master, no doubt, making it so I can’t linger. He’ll be here soon, or someone in his place.

But it should distract them. They’ll tear the city apart looking for me.

We’ll be gone long before they realize their mistake.

It’s a threadbare plan. The Moirai wanted me to distract the gods, but it's more like I'm laying a false trail, though. They'll keep following where I go, and hopefully, when I stop, it'll be like crossing a river. The hunters will lose my scent and be lost.

As I turn, I’m reminded just how stupid it was.

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