Page 54 of A Single Thread Of Hope

Moving into the courtyard, I looked around at all the melancholy dogs, unsure what to do without their leader. They still did their rounds, guarded the perimeter, and seemed to be reporting to the Valkyries. But without Cy, it was like a convoluted game of charades. I wouldn’t be surprised if they started to drift away as more time passed without Cy here as a grounding force.

So far it hadn’t mattered, though, because the Valkyries were turning everyone away. I think if they could have built a wall and locked the place down like a fortress, they would have. Unfortunately, the villagers needed to come and go from town, and there was no ward that could stop people from portaling in.

Hearing a ruckus at the front of the compound, I hurried down the stairs, looking for a weapon or one of the other guys. What the fuck was going on now? Couldn’t we have a minute to mourn? I could hear shouting, so I picked up the dagger we kept strapped under the table in the entryway.

Surprisingly, it was Milo who was raging, in full bull-headed form, attacking someone at the gate. Whoever it was fended him off easily, however. “You knew!When you came here, you already knew what would happen,” he roared, and it all clicked into place.

Apollo.

Man, he had some big golden balls to return here. Had he had something to do with Wren’s death? Because if he’d set anything into motion, there wasn’t a corner of the world remote enough to escape our wrath.

Demke appeared behind me. I assumed he’d try and break it up, but he just leaned against the doorjamb, happy to let Milo do his best to gouge a hole in the enigmatic God.

“I didn’t know exactly?—”

The snort wasn’t even close to human, and it was all the warning Apollo got before Milo charged at him, taking them both to the ground. He hammered his fists at Apollo’s face, but was always just a fraction too slow. More likely, Apollo was letting him hold him down, but drew the line at letting him get a hit in.

Apollo huffed, shoving at Milo’s chest, sending the Minotaur skidding through the dirt. “Of course I knew what was going to happen. I know what happens next too, and what happens after that. I’m gifted with prophecy, you big, dumb oaf. I also know what happens if I screw with the threads of fate, and that is far worse.”

Demke’s back was ramrod straight. “Worse than her dying?”

“Yes.” Apollo’s face was solemn, and I was tempted to believe him.

Milo stood up, brushing dust from his legs. “Worse for her, or worse for you?”

Narrowing his eyes, Apollo sneered, “For the world. Don’t forget, she dragged my son down with her. It wasn’t a decision I made lightly.”

I leaned close to Demke. “Like he doesn’t have fifty more to replace him.”

The air around us crackled, and you didn’t need to be a genius to know that we were beginning to piss Apollo off. Hestraightened his white shirt and linen pants—somehow he could pull off double linen without looking like an acolyte or a sixty-something divorcée named Gladys.

“Look, I came here because I thought you might need some appeasing when it comes to this situation. Because I still love this Island, and because Cy loves the girl and he means a lot to me, despite being one of fifty.” He cut a glare at me. “But if you want to fumble around in the dark, go for it. It will all play out how it’s supposed to, regardless of your feelings.”

Demke moved toward the scuffle. “Let him go, Milonos.”

Backing up but still huffing with rage, Milo glared at Apollo, who seemed completely unconcerned with the fact he was in the direct path of a raging bull.

“Come, we can go have coffee at thekafenio. Milo, go and see if Néit needs help with the infants. Tryp, with me.” Erus was sleeping, having gotten up and down with the babies all night, and no one wanted to wake him.

What Demke left unsaid was that there was no way Apollo was making it inside the house anytime soon. However, the God in question didn’t seem to be perturbed by the implication he was untrustworthy.

As we walked through town, the villagers stopped and stared. They might have been used to us, but Apollo was a whole other level of inhuman. Beautiful, but disconcertingly so. The power he possessed was the kind that raised the hair on your arms. You didn’t know if you wanted to walk toward him in awe or run away screaming.

If I could tell them what to do, it would be to run as far and as fast as possible.

We stepped into the café, where one of Stavros’s nieces was manning the counter. I wished I knew all their names, but I’d swear, he had a hundred nieces and daughters and granddaughters. It was hard to keep up.

She eyed our group warily, and Demke indicated we’d like three coffees. We sat in the furthest corner of the patio, tucked away from the sight of the casual passerby.

Sighing, Demke steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “I’d apologize for Milonos’s behavior, but it's been a rough week, and he was just doing what we’ve all wanted to do for quite some time.”

Apollo snorted. “I expect little from you Minoans. You’re basically a step up from barbarians, even after all this time.”

Okay, so we were going with barely veiled barbs. Should get interesting quickly.

The waitress came over with three coffees, and an entire platter of pastries and breads. Demke gave her a polite smile, and she hustled away as fast as her aging knees could carry her.

Smart woman.

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