Page 3 of Take Two (Valleywood: Season Three)

Chapter 3

Phobos

I stood in the doorway to The Wolf’s Den, letting my eyes adjust to the gloom. It was familiar. I remembered being here once before, and the memory overlapped with reality.

The flickering flames of the fire in the grate, Cameron sitting on a stool at the bar, dazed… My brother had called to tell me I could have my sidekick back, that he would be mine. Cameron was supposed to be mine!

My stomach twisted, and I swallowed hard against the acid crawling up my throat. Nothing had worked out as planned. Cameron wasn’t mine—to be honest, he never had been, but tell that to my stupid heart.

I closed my eyes in a long blink, inhaling a deep breath of the smoky air. There was another scent there, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Whatever it was, it was delicious, making my mouth water and soothing a little of the heartbreak.

Sighing, I headed deeper into the bar. There were only a couple other people here. One, a man who’d come in just before me, stomping snow off his boots and settling in at a table close to the fire. The other… the man from outside, the bartender.

He was staring right at me, his intense gray eyes like steel. I let my gaze wander down his body—what I could see above the bar, anyway. Broad shoulders, hands gripping the edge of the bar as if his life depended on it.

I decided then and there, who cared if he wasn’t my usual type? For one night, he could be. I deserved a little escape, a little taste of something different. I let a smile play on my lips, the kind of smirk I’d seen on my twin brother’s face. It worked so well for him, so why not me? Then I sauntered across the room, letting my hips move in what I hoped was a seductive sway, leaving a trail of melting snow in my wake. The bartender held my gaze the whole time.

Oh yeah, he was into me.

Leaning my forearms onto the counter, I drawled, “Hey there, handsome. Come here often?”

His left eyebrow arched, and he scoffed. “Seriously? That’s what you’re going with?”

Had I done it wrong? I should’ve paid more attention to how Deimos picked up omegas.

Clearing my throat, I tried again. “Did it hurt?”

The bartender sighed. “No, it didn’t hurt when I fell from Heaven.” He shook his head as if he was disappointed in me. “Look, I’ve been bartending a while. I promise I’ve heard all the pickup lines. Just… tell me what you want to drink.”

My confidence tanked hard. I couldn’t even do this right. I dropped myself onto one of the stools, letting my smile slip straight off. “It doesn’t matter. Something strong.”

The man nodded and turned to grab a bottle from the wall behind him. It gave me a clear view of his muscular back, obvious even through the flannel plaid, down to his trim waist and tight ass. And then he turned around and I found myself staring at his equally delectable crotch.

He cleared his throat, forcing my gaze back to his face. He did not look pleased at being objectified. “Sorry,” I muttered, shoulders hunching.

He didn’t say anything else as he poured me a double of some amber-colored alcohol. He dropped one ice cube into the glass then slid it across the bar. “You’d better be able to pay for that.”

Grumbling, I took out my wallet and pushed a few bills across the counter at him. “Keep ‘em coming. I’ve got some forgetting to do.”

I lost track of time after that. The drinks kept coming, and soon, I stopped noticing the burn. My insides turned warm, and my brain began to slosh around inside my head. I had to hand it to him. The bar knew how to stock some seriously hard stuff, hard enough to get a god this drunk.

“I can’t believe you don’t recognize me,” I slurred, my eyelids at half-mast. “I’m famous!”

While the bartender pretended he wasn’t interested, he had to be, because he hadn’t left. “Oh yeah? Are you an actor or something?”

“Pfft! Nah, not yet. No, I was a superhero. You must’ve heard of me. Here, maybe if I stand like this?” I pushed up to standing and tried to stand up straight on wobbling legs, setting my fists on my hips, my chin held high. I tried to rustle up some magical wind, but as drunk as I was, I fumbled it, and it was barely more than a puff of air that died quickly. Not like I was wearing a cape to ripple anyway. “This is my superhero pose. What d’ya think?”

It was hard to tell behind the beard, but I thought he looked skeptical, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the counter behind him. “Uh-huh. You’re really something,” he said, totally deadpan.

Groaning, I dropped back onto the stool. “I swear, it’s more impressive when I’m sober. Cause I’m a god, you know. A god of fear. Aren’t you afraid of me?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the P. He picked up a cloth and started wiping down the counter.

I should let out some of my power, that’d show him. Some good old-fashioned panic and terror to… woo an omega? Not likely.

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I tried to think clearly. This wasn’t me. “What’s your name?”

He shook his head. “I’m not telling you my name,” he gritted out.

“Why not? We’re friends, aren’t we?” I propped my chin in my hand, gazing up at him. He was so… pretty. No, that wasn’t the right word. Sexy? Alluring.

Even his scowl was kinda hot. “No, we are not friends.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply, and his lips moved soundlessly, as if he were having an argument with himself inside his head.

“Oh, come on,” I purred, reaching out to trail a fingertip over the back of his hand where it was splayed palm down on the counter. A spark snapped between us, and no matter how numb I felt right now, I certainly felt that. The current seemed to course all the way up my arm.

The bartender gasped and pulled his hand away, clutching it to his chest like he’d been burned, but then he said, “Declan. My name… it’s Declan.” That was all he gave me before he said, “It’s time for you to leave.”

“What? But I’m not—”

“You’re cut off. Get out!” he snapped, suddenly furious with me for no reason I could grasp. Then he pivoted and stormed into the back room, telling his co-worker who’d shown up about an hour ago, “He’s done. Please escort him out.”

I blinked owlishly, then shared a stunned look with the tiny, tattooed woman behind the bar. He expected her to “escort me out”?

When she made a move to come around to get me, I waved a hand at her. “Don’t bother. I can see myself out.”

The room swayed and swelled around me as I staggered to the door. Outside, the winter air didn’t seem so cold anymore, though night seemed to have fallen while I was inside. I stopped to lean heavily on the wall. Being drunk had officially stopped being fun. Without the flirting, all that was left was the depression. My eyes stung with tears, my face burning with shame. Why did I feel so… rejected? I didn’t know the bartender—Declan, I reminded myself—but for some reason, when he walked away, it felt like I’d lost something important, a piece of myself.

I shoved off the wall and walked blindly for a while, trying to clear my head, but I couldn’t stop thinking about all my failures. I’d failed at being a superhero, an actor, a boss, a friend, even a son and a brother. I was nothing… no one.

“I wish I wasn’t even a stupid god,” I muttered.

The still night air was broken by a laugh. More like a cackle, really, and it had a strange ethereal quality to it. I looked up, and there was a light coming from the alley ahead. I stumbled, slipping in the snow. “Hello?” I called, peeking around the corner.

There was an open door halfway down the alley, and flickering light spilled out. I found myself drawn closer, curious. When I looked through the door, I was stunned. It wasn’t the inside of a building. It was more like… a cave. The light came from torches lining a pathway leading down into the ground. The air was damp, warm, and when I stepped inside, the door swung slowly closed behind me.

I should’ve stopped, should’ve turned and walked straight back out, but inside… I heard a woman singing. It sounded like a lullaby, but it wasn’t in English. Was that… Enochian? It was an ancient language, and certainly no human would know it.

I reached the bottom of the cave, the ceiling, lined with stalactites, vaulting high above me. This existed beneath the city streets? The woman I’d heard was sitting on a rock throne, her face hidden beneath a black veil. Her gown was black too, layers of voluminous lace, along with black gloves, and she was… knitting?

“Hello?” I said again, and she tilted her head, I assumed to look at me.

“Phobos, I wondered when you would come to see me.” It was impossible to tell her age by her voice alone, but I had no doubt she was a goddess of some kind. What was she doing hiding here?

“You know my name?”

She tsked. “Everyone knows the god of panic… afraid of his own fate.”

Anger tried to take root, but the alcohol let it slip from my fingers, leaving only the awareness of truth. She was right, I was afraid of my fate. “W-what do you know about it?” I asked.

She chuckled as she set aside her knitting. “I am Apate, one of the first goddesses that ever was. I know that I helped your brother find his mate, and I can help you too. You could become a great actor, find love, live out all your dreams.”

It felt like the floor gave way beneath my feet, and I found myself dropping to my knees. “What?” I gasped. Deimos hadn’t won Cameron fairly? He’d cheated!

“Oh yes, I know all about your desires. It could all be yours, but…” She trailed off, and I held my breath, waiting for her to finish her sentence.

“But?” I coaxed.

“But what you crave is a human future, not a god’s. Your powers have done nothing but get in your way. You must choose one or the other—either go back to your father and aid him with war like you are destined… or forfeit your powers and live as a human, set free from the constraints of your fate. Then you could be anything your heart desires.”

Hope bloomed in my chest. I’d always felt shackled by my responsibilities, but without my powers… I could be free. No pressure, no expectations. “Please,” I whispered, shuffling forward on my knees. “Please, I want that. How can I have it?”

She stood from her throne, her skirts brushing along the stone floor as she approached. “You’re certain? You will no longer have access to your godly powers.”

“Yes, yes, please !” I begged. “Help me like you helped my brother.”

“As you wish.” She pulled off her right glove, her skin beneath pitch-black like the night sky, swirling like oil in a puddle. Her touch was gentle as she brushed her fingers across my temple. Then a searing pain lanced through my skull, and everything went black.