Aphrodite's War (27 page)

How did that bitch recruit such a valuable ally?
“I have been expecting you, my love.” Ares oily grin mocked
Aphrodite.
Her expression held equal condescension. “Your crude theatrics are
difficult to ignore.”
“You are too late. There is nothing you and your comrade can do to
stop me.”

Strife tore her gaze from the trio to the bellowing cylinder. It revolved
faster than her eyes could follow. Neon purple arcs ebbed and flowed
over its surface like animated lace. Ozone saturated her nostrils.

“Perhaps not,” Freya said. “But we will prevent you from gaining
superiority from this disaster.”
Aphrodite’s sorrowful eyes glimmered like faceted jewels in the
kaleidoscopic light show. “And I will avenge the death of our son.”
Strife noted the distinction. Ares had never been much of a father, and
Aphrodite acknowledged him only for spite.

Her anger and hatred rippled like a sonic boom. Strife prayed to the
Energy that Ares would destroy his nemesis before Aphrodite turned
wrath in her direction.

“He was a boy-loving milksop,” Ares’ mouth curled in distain. “reared
to inadequacy by a slut.”

Aphrodite’s screech rivaled the racket of the engine as she launched a
brilliant bolt of pure rage at Ares. Anticipating it, he blocked with a
shield of crimson electricity.

Freya bellowed a war-cry and pointed her weapon at Ares. A blue
beam mingled with Aphrodite’s to create a twisted sapphire and gold
chain of the women’s essence.

Strife squinted and covered her ears. The atmosphere grew unbearably
bright and hot. Thunder roared. The Dell already displayed dangerous
levels of radiation.

Three deities fought for control before her in a blaze of prime colors,
beautiful and terrifying.
Alarms whined as the sprinkler system rained rust and dirty water
upon them. She snatched her hands from the sparking computer.

She barely endured the sights and sounds, but at last Strife understood
her role in the chaos. Nothing could prevent the annihilation. Ares did
not need her to insure its success.

As she watched, Ares’ shield wavered. If she remained idle, he might
be defeated.
Leaving her to Aphrodite’s relentless vengeance.

Although a lesser god and Ares’ underling, Strife was not without
resources. Rarely had she used her meager stores of power. She survived
on her talents and cunning alone.

But with her master in danger she needed to tap into those strengths.
She spared another glance at Aphrodite, with her flawless face contorted
with insanity. She would rather serve a monster like Ares than deal with
her.

Now was the time. All but forgotten in the heat of battle, no one
noticed as she outstretched her hand, willing a strand of ozone through
the plexiglass. She concentrated, and let the bolt fly.
Missed.

Freya dropped to the floor, unconscious. Not Strife’s intended target,
but it had the desired effect. Aphrodite faltered. Her brilliant light
wobbled and waned, but the deity’s will strengthened. Her determination
was palpable.

Strife sat struck with indecision. Her first strike lacked accuracy.
What if her next attempt made the situation worse? Her fingernails dug
crescents into her palms.

“Sarah?”
Strife whirled at the sound of her Earth name. Ranjan slumped in the
doorway.
“Ranjan…” Strife recognized sorrow in her own voice. She could not
bear the terror etched on his sweet face. “What are you doing here?”
“I woke up, and you were gone.” His disheveled hair plastered his
head. Sweat and water weighted his shirt and hugged it to his body.
The crackle and buzz of battle seemed to fade like television static.
Ares and his harpy could go to Tartarus for all she cared.

“I knew you were special, Sarah,” Ranjan said. His expression of
astonishment morphed to one of affection. “Like a typhoon at sunrise.
And now I understand why. You truly are a goddess.” He smiled, and
Strife saw herself in his mind’s eye the day they met. He viewed her not
as a woman to bed, or a monster, but a delicate flower. She fought hard
not to cry.

“You left me alone in my bed, but I could still feel you. You left a
perfumed trail.”
Her fragrance spell. Damn it. But if her magicks had no effect on
him…

“How did you find me?
“I followed my heart.” He ventured toward her in the sizzling
downpour. “This isn’t you, Sarah. The woman I know wouldn’t
jeopardize lives. This,” he waved at the havoc behind her as though it
were a distasteful scene in a movie, “is beneath you. You are an
independent woman, a chemist. Not a servant of evil.”

“This is what I am,” Strife said. Tears evaporated from her face.
“Sarah does not exist.”
“She does,” Ranjan said. “She is a part of your personality. I’ve fallen
hard and I want to love all of you.”

Strife bit down nausea and laughter, but not because of Ranjan’s
desperation. She could not believe that, in all her hundreds of years, she
had finally found the perfect man; one so generous with his heart. He
understood her flaws and still wanted her.

And it was too late. She would never find happiness. The Energy had
a disturbing sense of humor. It must delight in her comeuppance.

The machine’s insistent thump rose to a crescendo. She risked a
glance through the humid fog. Ares appeared to gain momentum.
Aphrodite used both hands to hold off his scarlet assault. Sparks bounced
and died from her palms.

The cyclotron glowed volcanic.

“Ranjan, you must go.” Strife scurried to grasp his shoulders. She
tried to nudge him into the hall. “Get in your car and drive as far and as
fast as you can.”

He shook Strife off and folded her into his arms. His grip crushed her,
his thoughts were frantic. “Not without you. I don’t know what you’ve
done, but I don’t want you to die.”

She wrenched herself free and smacked her forehead in frustration.
“Do not be a fool.” She gestured at the power struggle and roaring
mechanics. “You see what is happening here? You will be killed.”

“I know what you are,” Ranjan said, tugging her hand. “But I still
want to be with you.” He pleaded with his irresistible brown eyes. “I’m a
lawyer. I can find a way out of this for you. All you have to do is run
away with me.”

Stupid human. These were forces he could never comprehend. If he
did not leave, he would be vaporized with everyone else unless…

Strife stared into that exotic gaze. She longed for the life ‘Sarah’ had
set in motion. No more spells or drugs; she could fill her days with
school or career, spend her nights with a real family. One of her own.

It would require all of her godly resources to spirit them away, but it
did not matter. She would forsake them for mortality. She would rather
live as a human than reclaim her past.

Strife stood on her toes to kiss him. His mouth still tasted of her lust.
“Close your eyes and hold tight,” she said, squeezing his fingers. “We
are leaving.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

A spine-jangling screech ruined Strife’s focus. She spun in time to see
Aphrodite’s limp body slam into the far wall and slide to the floor. Blood
and skin painted the drywall.

Her chest and face were charred meat scraps, her hands black talons.
Strife gaped in astonishment as Aphrodite convulsed and moaned.
Ranjan retched.

Throughout her entire existence on Earth Strife hated Aphrodite. The
love-goddess’ death throes should have pleased her immensely, but
compassion struck Strife like a hammer to the chest.

The man that Aphrodite had loved did this. He left her broken,
hideous, and straining to breath.
Destroyed.
I am no better. I killed her child in his name. I am just as guilty. A new
sentiment pervaded Strife’s heart. This must be shame.
She wanted to go to Aphrodite, comfort her. But someone else’s sense
of urgency prevented her.
“Uh…Sarah?”
Strife peered through grief at Ranjan, whose trembling hand motioned
to Ares.
All thoughts of mourning evaporated as she beheld that terrifying
visage.

Ares seethed through clenched teeth, his ruby eyes beamed like a
demon’s. The ammonia scent of urine, hers or Ranjan’s, she could not be
certain, drifted past her nose.

“There will be no escape, Strife,” Ares said. She barely heard him
over the pandemonium, but she understood the malice in those words.
“You belong to me.”

He raised a handful of raw current, a compressed ball of hate, pink as
watered blood. It writhed like neon snakes in a mating frenzy, hissing
and spitting in the sprinklers. At once Strife knew his thoughts.

No! Not him. Strife beseeched with her eyes, forgetting to correct her
speech and conceal her thoughts, but Ares took no notice. He directed his
anger at Ranjan. I’ll do anything. Please, Master, don’t kill him.

Catching movement from the corner of her eye, Strife peered through
heat waves and steam. Aphrodite? No. Freya had regained consciousness.
If Ares knew, he demonstrated no concern.

What should she do? Think.

Freya hobbled to her feet, zeroing in on Ares’ flank with her sword
raised. Strife’s own energy swelled within. Did she have a moment to
steal Ranjan?

Ares drew back to throw the sphere of death. Strife lacked options.

She could not bear the outcome. Her lover would be incinerated. She
would be Ares’ unwilling minion once more, doomed to enact atrocities
and suffer his deviant sexual whims. She would be left to fantasize and
lament for the love that slipped through her fingers for the rest of her
endless immortality.

She couldn’t allow that.
Her master launched the globe, and Strife stepped into its path.

Her nerves blistered. Her screams ceased as her larynx burned.
Strife’s eardrums and eyeballs burst. The odor of cooked flesh assaulted
her nostrils, briefly, as the last of her faculties withered. Yet it still hurt to
hit the floor.

Ranjan’s life force pulsed several meters away. She prayed to the
Energy that he’d flown clear.

She felt a sting of shock from Ares. What happened? Without tactile
sensations Strife relied on telepathy, but the emotions were vague and
brief. He’d been…she couldn’t tell. Stabbed? His presence dissolved
before she learned the answer.

Did Freya best him? She strained for a sign. Did she manage to catch
Ares by surprise and kill him?

I am afraid not, Strife. Freya’s voice came to her mind. Strife no
longer heard the cacophony of alarms or the droning thud of the
overheated cyclotron. Nothing but Freya’s words broke the profound
silence. He is a coward. Only the Energy knows where he went.

Strife gnashed her shattered teeth. Typical of him to leave her to die in
agony while he skulks away to live another day. But she didn’t have the
luxury of wallowing in bitterness.

Where is Ranjan? Strife asked.
He is shaken, bones broken but he lives.

Had she any lips, Strife would have smiled. Ranjan, injured but
whole. She wished to mend him, but had no power to spare.
You must take him with you. He is an innocent.

Freya didn’t reply, but Strife felt her conflicting emotions. She
weighed Strife’s final request with her instincts for secrecy. Strife began
to despair that the goddess would deny her. Ranjan had seen too much.

Take the human, Freya. Aphrodite said.

You live? Strife shared Freya’s amazement. She also believed the
deity to be more or less deceased, her soul not more than a blink in
Strife’s conscience.

Help me stand. She pictured Freya peeling Aphrodite’s seeping
carcass from the wall. Not a pleasant visual.
Bring me to the cyclotron, then remove the mortal.

Strife heard her Earth name in Ranjan’s panicked thoughts. He’d
discovered her. She longed to hear him call to her, to see his noble brown
face. Perhaps it was just as well. She didn’t need to witness his torment
as he gazed upon her ruin, or hear his sobs of disbelief.

But just once more she longed to feel his tender caress, one more sniff
of his cologne, one last kiss to take her to an unknown fate the Energy
reserved for fallen angels. Perhaps her creator would have mercy.

She did not fear her next incarnation. Strife would never know a
crueler Hell than she experienced now. To truly understand everything
she would leave behind, with nothing but regret and memories.

Was the Earth quaking? So hard to discern in this empty nothingness.
The device must be ready to detonate.
Ranjan. She could think of nothing else but him. Freya, you must
save Ranjan.
I will prevent the discharge, Aphrodite said to her thoughts. Do as she
asks and withdraw with her man.

If Ranjan’s startled bafflement were any indication, Freya wasted no
time. Strife hesitated to be hopeful that Freya decided to respect her
wishes.

Ares will be brought to justice, I promise. Strife found comfort in
Freya’s oath. Your sacrifices will not be in vain.

Their departure brought emptiness. Strife would never know Ranjan’s
love again. Disturbing as it was, she accepted it. She’d guaranteed his
survival.

She wanted to help thwart Ares, but Strife was spent. She must trust
that Aphrodite would avenge her losses.

Aphrodite. Could her nemesis hear her? Would she heed her words?
May the Energy forgive me for everything I have done. I deserve my
fate. It is an honor to die beside you.

Strife took a shallow, tortuous breath and surrendered to her grave.
# # #

Aphrodite wobbled blindly toward the intense heat. Stopping Ares’
war machine would be the last thing she would ever do, but she must
persevere long enough to complete the task.

Every exposed nerve throbbed miserably, causing her pain the likes
she had never endured before. Only single-minded purpose kept her
from collapse.

Tears and fluids dripped from her aching eye sockets, stinging her
damaged tissues. The man-made rain offered relief to her burns. She
considered herself fortunate; at least she would have revenge. Strife had
no such pleasure.

Aphrodite heard her pleas for absolution before she expired,
something Aphrodite had not expected. Or wanted. It was of little
consequence now. The Energy knew what kind of restitution Strife must
make, whatever became of dead gods.