The Return (Titan 1)

I’d never seen Bob again.

I’d collected more weirdos over the years, like the old lady who was always at the convenience store when I was stocking up on junk food because my grandparents were health-food nuts. Somehow we’d struck up an oddball friendship—me, her, and her nine cats. Then, there had been the high-school librarian. She’d been the closest thing to a BFF I’d ever had.

There had been more, and as ridiculous as it sounded, sometimes I wondered if there was some innate crazy that other crazy folks could sense in one another, like a homing beacon. So I guessed I shouldn’t have been so surprised by a random, crazy— albeit hot—guy running into me on a campus with thousands of people.

I entered my dorm and took the elevator the ten floors up. Adjusting my bracelets, I shifted from foot to foot, impatient. When the elevator stopped, I barreled out the doors and almost knocked down a smaller girl. She stumbled back, catching herself on the opposite wall.

“Sorry. So sorry,” I said, wincing as she righted herself. “Really sorry.”

“No biggie.” She smiled as stepped in the elevator.

Shaking my head, I pivoted around and walked down the long hall to my dorm room. As I reached the door, the shiver was at the base of my spine again, dancing its way up until it traveled across my shoulders. My heart turned over heavily and I closed my eyes.

Twice in one day.

Oh God.

I’d never felt this more than once in any span of several days. Swallowing hard, I wrapped my fingers around the doorknob, battling the urge to turn and scan the hall, because I knew no one would be there.

Dragging in a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped inside the room. My brows flew up, and I forgot about the feeling as I closed the door behind me.

Erin was sprawled on the floor, palms pressed down on a mat, her spandex-covered behind jutting up toward the sky. She turned her head, peering at me from under her armpit.

Her armpit.

“How in the world do you get your neck to bend like that without killing yourself?” I asked.

“Skills, yo.”

Erin did yoga and meditation religiously, saying it helped merge her yin and yang together or something. She’d once told me she had a hell of a mean streak, and contorting herself into painful-looking positions helped keep “good vibrations” around her. Which was strange, because I’d never seen Erin lose her temper in the two years I’d known her.

Erin unfolded herself from some kind of downward dog or upward pony and grinned at me. “Check under the bed.”

Curious, I dropped my bag and stepped over her legs. Bending down, I lifted the bedspread and my eyes grew to the size of saucers when I spotted the bottle. I snatched it up and clutched it to my chest as I whipped toward her. “José!”

Her grin spread into a smile. “The best boyfriend ever.”

Standing in the middle of the penthouse suite in the hotel not too far from Radford, I yelled for Apollo for the fourth time since I’d walked through the door.

Finally, there was an answer in the form of a fissure of energy permeating the room. Warm air blew over the back of my neck. I spun around, cursing when I saw Apollo standing right there. As in, he’d zapped himself into the room practically on top of me.

“Gods,” I barked. “There’s at least eight hundred square feet in here, buddy, you didn’t need to land on my ass.”

Apollo snickered as he folded his arms. “You called?”

I squared off with the god. We were nearly the same height, putting him at maybe an inch or two over my six-foot-four. “Who is she?”

There was a pause. “Josephine Bethel.”

I stared at him as irritation spun up like a high-speed cyclone. “I’ve figured that out. Thanks.”

“Is that so? By the way, you’re off to a good start with this whole ‘protecting her’ thing. Are you doing it remotely? Is that a new ability of yours I’m unaware of?” He turned, tilting his head to the side. He seemed to be staring at the chain hanging from the ceiling fan. Seconds later, he confirmed this by reaching out and tugging the chain.

Light clicked on.

He tugged the chain again.

Light went off.

Oh for gods’ sake, he had a mean case of ADD sometimes. “Apollo,” I snapped.

Seeming to have forgotten he was even in the room with me, he lowered his hand slowly. “You haven’t asked the correct question, Apollyon.”

I forced myself to take a step back before I tapped into the air element, wrapped the shiny gold chain around his thick neck, and turned him into a sun god piñata. “She’s not a half or a pure. She feels like a mortal, but she…” I shook my head, turning away. Moving to the large window, I pulled back the curtain. Dusk had fallen, bringing a haze of fog to the tops of the tree-covered mountains.

“What, Seth?” Apollo asked softly.

I couldn’t believe I was going to say this, but Apollo wasn’t going to feed me information. That wasn’t how he rolled. Slipping my fingers off the curtain, I closed my eyes. “She looked…she reminded me of Alex.”

Alex.

Alexandria Andros.

The girl I once had thought was just an ordinary half-blood, but had turned out to be another Apollyon—the real Apollyon. I was the one who was never supposed to have happened, even though I’d been born first. I’d come into existence because Ares had sought to control Olympus through controlling me. And worse than being a descendant of that asshole, he’d almost succeeded in turning me into the God Killer, the supreme being that was the result of one Apollyon absorbing the abilities of another. It was why having two Apollyons in one generation was forbidden.

And I’d played right into Ares’s games. I’d fucked up—fucked up in a way that had ended with Alex spending a good part of the year—and of every year for eternity—in the underworld. That was something I could never forgive myself for. No matter what amends I’d made or deals I’d offered.

I cleared my throat and continued. “Not completely. Different hair. Different nose and eyes, but she even sounded like her for a second.” I laughed, and it sounded harsh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were somehow related, but that’s not possible. Right?”

There was no answer as Apollo stared at me.

And then I lost my shit.

Glyphs snapped over my flesh. The lamp on the executive-style desk exploded in a shower of sparks and tinkling glass. The smell of burnt ozone filled the air. Wind picked up, blowing the little courtesy notepads off the nightstands. “It’s not possible, Apollo.”