“I wanted to change her perception of me. I wasn’t evil, and I wasn’t a beast or monster. Although, I acted the part and was bloody good at it. It came naturally to me. My dark half was reserved for the Underworld and its occupants, but the rest of me was for her. The good side of me.
The scent of the mint patch overwhelmed me as I entered the grove. It was growing wild, untamed and uncared for, spreading even onto the neighboring trees. In the midst of the brilliant green was a single, dead tree. A face with flowing hair was carved into the dark trunk. At the base was a small tombstone, with the words Here rests Minthe engraved upon it.
I saw a glimpse of a little girl with platinum blond hair tied into pigtails running down the alleyway. I chased her onto the main street and tried to see where she went. Her form was translucent, and she passed through the people on the street quickly, unnoticed except as a warm breeze.
Though I plotted and planned, I knew it was too soon to put those things into motion. I had considered resuming my search for Hephaestus. It had taken years to destroy our relationship, and I knew it could take just as long to fix things between us. However, no one wanted to tell me where he was, and I still had to figure out who had his number. Then I had to convince them I only had the best intentions, so they would let me have it.
I paused and watched the younger gods move to the edge of their seats and lean forward. My eyes caught Demeter’s, and she winked at me. I paused a little longer for dramatic effect.
Ares is stunned. He has not yet had time to be angry as the barrel of the tank’s main gun begins to droop, and he is serenaded by the screaming of the men inside. He may have spoken again, but I would not have heard him over the sound of the shells in the tank detonating, sending huge yellow lumps of molten steel flying in all directions. The turret flies high into the air, losing its shape as I continue to heat it. It crashes to the ground as boiling liquid.
My heart stops for a moment at the sight of the two teenage gods, a male and a female. They smile warmly at me, and instantly I know that I love them unconditionally.
The magic contained within Emma was ancient and familiar, yet it held a foreignness that made it clear it was not wholly of this world. I latched onto the bit that belonged to the witch queen, the hot gold ichor that had become contaminated power, filled with rage, hatred, and despair at a life stolen. It was the catalyst that had created this monster. The final act of vengeance cast by extraordinary primal magic. But vengeance belonged to me. I was the source and balance of it. I pulled at it, plucking at the abscessed kernel of goodness walled off from the corrupted soul of the little girl.
“You were so afraid of tarnishing your wings, of going dark.” She stroked my wings. “You have seen too many of the deities fall from grace, failing time and time again. They pit themselves against each other, feuding and divided. You lived in constant fear of being tossed from the mountain, and so you did everything to be the perfect daughter and example of what a goddess should be.
“You see, I think we can help each other. Balance, right? That’s one of your big things. You’re order, I’m chaos, and I think we can balance each other out. I really need that right now, and frankly, my dear, and I mean this in the best possible way, I’m thinking so do you.” I emphasize this by tossing my boots over my shoulder and stretching my legs with my now bare feet.
Taking the stack of letters, I walked to my front door. “Hermes, I need you to deliver letters,” I said as I opened the door. I glanced at my watch and waited for a few minutes for the lift to open. “Took you long enough,” I said in jest.
It takes a while, but finally, the crate is dug up and eased out of the hole. The workers shift back as one of them wrenches off the lid. It looks past the box’s top and then turns to me. It can’t speak, but there’s something in its features, something I don’t think I like. I step past it, every fibre in my body jangling. I think I’m ready for what I’ll see.
They were brats. I felt like a single parent, listening to them bicker back and forth about their disapproval of everything. It took everything in me to continue to ignore them, especially because this exchange with the detective was so pleasant.
They weren’t to blame for the false memories or for the hell I raised when I emerged from them. I licked my lips, squeezing my eyes shut in disgust. I’d raised a lot of hell and sown a lot of bloody Justice. Secretly, I’d hoped they’d show up, at least once, impressed by the mayhem I’d wrought.
On the inside of my forearm, there was a pink mark where my arm had thawed. My eyes widened with shock. There, perfectly formed in my reddened skin, was a child-size handprint. I glanced around, doing a full sweep, listening for what I then knew was a giggle. I wondered if I could follow the breeze, and set off in the direction she took.
New Beginnings 
A Reprimand 
The Secret in Silence, Part III 
Interrogation Doesn’t Break Ice 
Stealing A Moment 
Making a Mark 
When It Hits The Fan 
A Goddess Down 
An Explosive Mystery 
