Page 16 of Immortal Sun (Dark Olympus)

CHAPTER 16

CLEO

“No one is a total fool if he knows when to hold his tongue.” -Grettir’s Saga, ch. 88

T he minute he’s gone, I’m free. I forget about my bag of clothes, I forget about everything, and I run.

I run as fast as I can, away from the mansion, down the street, and toward the ferry terminal. Sweating bullets. There has to be someone who can at least help me!

I stumble over my stupid Converse laces when I finally make it into Deer Harbor. All of the fishing boats are back at the dock and almost every single one of the restaurants looks closed.

Do I run toward the police station?

Do I just scream that my host is a serial killer who wields some sort of evil magic?

I stop running and walk, attempting to look normal as I bypass people near the dock in search of the police station that I could have sworn was on this side of town.

I look behind me to see if he’s following me.

He’s not.

And then naturally I trip on my own feet and nearly go careening over into the water.

My eyes lock on the nearly translucent substance as it washes up against the bridge I’m on.

It’s so pretty and clear.

I can’t look away. How hypnotizing the water is as it caresses the rocks, splashing against them again and again. I smile even though I’m terrified.

“Pretty,” I whisper.

My phone drops out of my hand, hitting the bridge with a thud.

I reach for the water, eager for my fingers to dive into the wetness, to feel its pleasure, its pain. How lovely it must be to be so alive and constantly moving.

My eyes tear up, my fingers tremble, and then I’m suddenly leaning over the bridge, reaching, wishing.

Fingertips touch the cold.

It feels like coming home.

I dip my fingers deeper.

Death.

The water washes up against my wrist almost like it’s beckoning me to come in closer. I lean farther.

I fall.

And I welcome it.

I imagine it’s the same way as when people have an afterlife moment. I see visions of my mom baking, my brother teasing me.

I smile, opening my mouth wide as I suck in all the memories and embrace the happy feeling of being actually content.

No longer afraid.

Perfect.

So warm.

God, finally warm.

Just like I am with Cyrus.

My arm dives deeper. I don’t want to be rescued. I smile as my lips part, drinking in the water, the feel of it running across my face.

Visions of fire run through my mind as my entire body is consumed with warmth.

And I see it.

I see someone standing against a rock wall, pressing his palms against it, pushing it, shoving it, crying out while people in gold and red armor stand around him screaming.

The wall doesn’t move.

He yells again, more words. His helmet is unmoving as sweat falls down his face.

I can’t see who it is, but his muscles bulge against the gold armor strapped to his biceps, his teeth clench.

“Help me!” he screams. “Don’t damn us all!”

Someone steps forward. A weapon in his hands; it looks like plain silver, or is it rusted? I can’t tell. His armor is black.

Another steps forward, armor a dark green, nearly black. He screams up at the skies as lightning strikes the tree and yells back at the rest. “Cowards!”

I can barely make out the word when I start to choke on something.

Water?

Air?

Aren’t they the same?

I smile.

How nice. This feeling.

Something grabs me, pulling me from my dream and back into a cold, wet, terrifying reality as I fall against bridge with a thud.

“Are you kidding me?” the voice roars. “You could have died! What the hell is wrong with you? We told you to be careful!” He paces. “Don’t walk around alone at night, don’t get unalived!” He stops and turns to me, pointing his diet coke at me. “Do. Not. Go. Out. By. Yourself!”

I gape. It’s Kratos from the pub and from the dinner. He’s dripping wet, pointing his pop at me and pacing like he’s a worried mom.

I frown, why am I so wet? Did I really fall in that far? “I just looked for a few seconds because?—”

“No,” he interrupts. “You don’t even let your guard down for one second.”

“That’s really all it takes.” Another voice sounds.

“Dag?” I ask.

He’s in his police uniform and smirking at Kratos. “Trouble in paradise?”

Kratos rolls his eyes. “I was walking by, asshat.”

“Good to know your manners didn’t get damaged.” Daggon smirks. “Are you okay, Cleo?”

Yes? No? Yes? I simply nod.

“Good.” He rocks back on his feet. “So, no report needed. Kratos, aren’t you expected somewhere?”

I swear Kratos attempts to kill him with his eyes before crunching his empty can and tossing it onto the street only to kick it, pick it up, and put it in the trash.

I don’t even get a chance to say “thank you” while Daggon just shakes his head at Kratos like he’s hopeless.

“So, that was fun.” He holds out his arm. “But we should get you back to the house.”

“Actually.” I go still. “Cyrus said some really violent things toward me. Maybe I can get a different hotel?”

Dag pauses and looks up toward the sky then back down at me, his eyes a crystal blue, mesmerizing. “What do you feel?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What do you feel? It’s not about what you see. That’s the trouble with Deer Harbor, with the flames, you see then you feel, but you should feel then see.”

“That’s a riddle.” I force a laugh.

He doesn’t.

I clear my throat. Clearly, I’m safe right? With a cop? “I feel scared and alive.”

He nods slowly. “Good. Then we should probably walk toward the house. Your feelings are more trusted there.”

“Why?” I’m almost afraid to ask but I do anyway.

He stops walking, takes my arm, then pulls me close against him and whispers, “Sight is nothing when it comes to instincts. You might see a tree, others might see a sprite. It’s all in your perspective and sometimes, because of the way we’re born into this world, we get lost in that perspective.”

My entire body chills. “So, how do you fix the fear? The sight?”

His hands go to my shoulders. “You allow yourself to feel. Even if it means you’re afraid.”

“And if you can’t get past that fear?”

“Then”—he grabs my hand and squeezes it—“you embrace it.”

We’re quiet the entire way back to the dark house. Though I’m with a police escort, I’m still terrified, yet he holds my hand, he keeps it securely in his, and when Cyrus answers the door and stares me down, when Dag leaves, I boldly walk in and look up at Cyrus and say, “I’m gonna go read.”