Barcode: Legend of Apollo (28 page)

“Talib!” I shout with joy as I try to rush toward him. Dennis holds me back with his left hand. He wears unmistakable hatred on his face.

Talib slowly rises from his bed to stare at me from the darkest corner of his cell. Despite the rest of the room being bathed in light, I am confused to see that none of it reaches his cage.

The prophet’s half-man, half-lion. Unlike his brother, his features are more human. The only thing beastly about Talib are his face and the fur covering his body. He’s well-built, like all liminal beings, but hides his muscles under a long and dark green cloak.

He still hasn’t said a word, but he analyzes my every movement. He was always capable of examining my entire body while gazing into my eyes.

There’s something about his eyes that don’t seem a part of this world. They’re mystical and sometimes they seem dangerous.

“Why are you in jail?”

Dennis interjects before he can say a word, “You’re asking the wrong question, Spencer. I brought you here for the same reason you fought me.”

Talib’s eyes widen and I hear a faint growl.

“He knows about mom?” I sputter, “Talib, you knew how my mom died? Why? Why wouldn’t you tell me?” I step forward to approach the bars again, but Dennis holds me tighter.

The prophet finally steps out of the darkness, and I notice a huge gash across his face. I guess I wouldn’t have seen it on the field, but how long has he had the wound? It clearly hasn’t been treated.

“You said you wouldn’t tell him,” the prophet hisses without taking his eyes from me.

“I still haven’t. He overheard me talking and tried to beat it out of me. He hates me enough as is. Why don’t you take some of the blame?”

I’m listening to the Titans and feeling much like an ant. My face hasn’t lost all of its heat, but my eyes turn cold. Talib gasps and takes a step closer.

“Spencer. Where have you been?” I’m distracted by something on his skin. If I could read auras like Hannah, I know I’d discover what was so repulsive about him. A hostile venom swims through my flesh, but I can’t explain why. “Spencer?”

Snapping out of my trance, I mutter, “What do you know about my mother’s death?”

Dennis stands in a defensive position. I think he’s preparing to stop me from striking Talib. I hadn’t considered it much at first, but beating it out of him might not be the worst idea.

Talib growls, “Spencer.”

“Don’t say my name! Answer my question. How did she die?”

The beast places his hands in his cloak. “I murdered her Spencer.” An invisible bullet pierces my heart with mournful words tattooed across it. My body experiences enough pain for my brain to shut down.

Am I closing my eyes or has the room gone black again? As the words rebound off my thoughts and I process all the lies surrounding my past, I finally open my eyes to recognize another enemy.

Something’s holding me back from lashing out at him. I’m crying, and every tear seems to increase the darkness surrounding him. This emptiness is worse than ever before. Even Talib is merging into the black limbo.

Though the very man I want to slaughter stands no further than a few steps away, I can’t move an inch. My screams are nothing more than the loud breathing I make when I’m in pain or working out. Better judgment tells me to cool off, but my body’s reacting on its own.

Talib makes a choking sound and then spits on my armor. In Aeoy, the language of liminal beings, he shouts, “Bawko ko Midmidoo, daoeaioa yew.” I’m not fluent in the language, but I know the cursed word, Tartarus. “Damodo odkw Yibeo.” I can only make out that he’s saying something about coming from Hades.

He spits again, and I calm down. My body’s returned to the prison and I can see things clearly. Though anger resides in the same dark pit across my chest, I’m here. Safe.

“What have you permitted to happen to the boy?”

“I don’t know, but you better answer his question before it happens again.”

“I need to speak with the universe on his behalf. Any further into that place and there’s no return for him. You and your brother should not have allowed that cursed demon to attend the university.”

“Look…complain all you want, but I’m hardly holding down the only person listening to you right now. If my fingers slip and he lets out a chain, I will break my promise and release you from the cage to help stop him. Believe me, even in the bandages it won’t be easy. Just try telling him the truth.”

I listen to the two speak about “the boy” as though I weren’t right here.

Talib roars, “I made a horrible mistake years ago. Takashi had developed a strong gift for reading a god’s powers before he crowned, and he taught me. Or I thought he did. I practiced the gift on others before coming to Dennis and Bethany with my new-found ability. At five months gestation, I prepared their reading.”

Talib takes a long enough break for me to prod him forward with his story, “So?”

“I read something that I could not believe. There were two babies in the womb. One was the most powerful god to bond with humans, Ares. The other was a beast, not a god. Ares, or Hayley’s husband as you knew him, wasn’t even pronounced dead by that time. I was doubtful of my reading.”

If he’s talking about predicting the birth of the current Ares, he means Monte.

Most gods are born with their own symbolic barcode, like my cross and Michelle’s lions. Apollo’s previous host had a raven. The god before him, a lyre. Monte possesses the only barcode that forms a collage of the previous tattoos. He brags about John’s tattoo because he was the most infamous god criminal that escaped a high security prison. Monte mostly enjoys it because the ax tattoo resembles his current weapon.

From my understanding, John’s collage fit on one arm. With the size of Monte’s power, he should be considered the monster.

“Instead of telling your parents the prophecy, I returned to Takashi to confirm the reading. He agreed, and recommended that I tell your parents the truth. To kill you.”

“I’m the monster?” I stutter.

“No,” Dennis’ voice is forceful.

“As I was told by the universe, the monster would abolish war. In return, our world would end, unless he were never allowed to crown.”

Dennis squints and adds, “I hadn’t found out until recently that the purpose of liminal beings isn’t to declare the power of the god, but to kill off those with too much power. They’ve done this for years with no one knowing.”

Talib continues as though Dennis had never spoken, “I waited until the last possible moment to discuss this with your parents. After nurses confirmed the health of the twin boys, I addressed Bethany, but she went into labor early. I told her the truth, one that not even your father knows, but she would not believe me. In fact, she had guards attempt to remove me.”

“No,” I cry. “No. No.”

Unable to look into my eyes, Talib turns his face. “As is our gift, I could expel you from the world before you crowned, but Bethany fought for you. I was forced to rip through her abdomen. As I left the room, you kicked out of the tear I left in her stomach, unscathed. But there was no other baby. I received a prophecy for the wrong birth. The nurses and I were all deceived by my brother.
Your
destiny was to oppose the monster if he lived. I was set up to make sure he did. I was ashamed of my failure. Against the will of the universe, I stayed to help raise you in repentance, but I did not know how to mentor a child with my own guilt lingering over my conscience. And so, I left.”

“Why are you in jail for it now?” The bitterness in my tone surprises him. He raises his eyebrows and leans forward. He’d probably try to rest his hand on my head if he could. The cold expression on my face is enough for him to know that I want none of his affection.

Talib shifts his weight uncomfortably and clears his throat. “The universe told me to turn myself in. Your father never suspected me. He always treated me as a friend. I thought he deserved to punish me as he saw fit, but I did not want you to know. I am sorry Spencer. Maybe I…Maybe I should fight my way out and face my true demon.”

“Is that all?” I ask, standing calmly to my feet.

“Yes.”

“Dennis, let’s go.”

As I walk out of the room, I hear Talib tell Dennis, “You do not understand what I have just done to him. The hell has completed its hold.”

“That guilt doesn’t belong to just you. We’re both responsible.”

Thirty

For the rest of the week, I watch the only person I could open up to vanish in the hall after each of her classes. She’s become more popular and famous than Monte and I combined, which makes it even more convenient for her to disappear.

Because of her accomplishments, Michelle has been skipped into the god level classes, the only demigod in history to do so. Others, like Wesley, share one or two instructional times with gods. High ranking mortal level students, like Abby, have one god level and two demigod level periods. They all struggle to keep up with us, but for mortals and demigods, I can’t say they’re too bad.

Even though Michelle is in each of our classes, she hardly speaks to anyone. With her gone, Hannah and I find time to make up after the hospital situation.

I’ve taken her to the local ice cream parlor before and after school. Due to her hatred of ice cream, we order coffees or shakes. I enjoy sharing time with her, but I feel disconnected. I have managed to avoid allowing Talib’s story to crush my world, because I have no world. I don’t feel as though I belong here. Hannah helps to keep my thoughts occupied.

I finally learn where she stays—the campus dorms. She never wanted anyone to know, because most of our friends come from wealthy families. They either live in spherical mansions or skyscrapers like mine. The dorms have their advantages, such as training sessions that last until nine at night, but she never participates. Many of the students on her floor aren’t even aware that she lives with them.

Despite her openness, Hannah’s past remains a mystery. She attempted to trade information about her past to discover why I’ve been calm recently, but I didn’t take the deal. Even after Monte made a few wise cracks about my finals last year, I simply walked out of the class. This entire week, I’ve drifted from one place to the next mechanically.

During Hannah’s push to encourage me to speak, she admitted that she was a native New Yorker. That bit of information was more than shocking, as there aren’t many individuals that make it to Southern California from that distance. Helios keeps very tight restrictions on his borders. Dennis’ helicopters are some of the few with security access to all of the ex-U.S.A.

Hannah also mentioned that she’d like to congratulate Michelle on the match. On Friday, she asserted plans to train harder. I’m aware of how embarrassed she was to lose to a demigod. Many of the teachers mentioned a potential rematch during final exams, but that’s only three weeks away. I doubt Hannah could improve that drastically. Then again, it’s not like she lost by much.

With the week closing, I wonder how I’ll ever manage to lift my weapons without Michelle’s help. I consider asking Dennis as he frantically drives to the library, but resist the urge. He’s never had time to train me.

When I was younger, Dennis always mentioned how he’d take me out next week, or how we’d spar in the training room next month. Everything that we could do together always had a “next” preceding it. Eventually, those months became years. He just needed to finish paying off the new buildings or reduce his hours at the academy. There were always excuses.

Casey could train me, but he’s not as powerful. My grandad’s strength lies in his speed and strategy. I hope to ask Vincent sometime this week, but Dennis keeps him busy as well. Then again, he’d make time for me just to spite his brother.

Hayley forced Dennis to spend time with me this weekend, but he worked up until we needed to leave so we’re zooming around corners and trying to make it to the library on time.

I watch as the time changes to 10:05 A.M. We were supposed to make it to the library five minutes ago, but Dennis is never on time. He normally drives calmly, very opposite of grandad, but Hayley whispered a serious threat in his ear. Thus, he’s persistently motivated to arrive on time.

When we do pull into the parking lot, there aren’t many cars. Without giving it a second thought, we hop out of the truck and jog up to the entrance of the cathedral. I haven’t come to the library to hear a sermon or read in some time. I’m normally not even awake this early on Sundays.

As we make our way through the large wooden double doors, the head minister greets us with a smile.

“What’s going on pastor?” Dennis asks.

“Well, we’re having our service soon. What’s going on with you?”

“No, I mean, doesn’t the sermon begin at ten?”

The pastor laughs, “Dennis Colt?” The largely round and bald man adjusts his glasses as he gawks with disbelief. “And your son Johnny? Boy,” he says clasping his hands, “When Hayley said you were coming, I didn’t believe it.”

I stare at Dennis strangely. Johnny? Dennis corrects him with a twisted expression, “Actually it’s Spencer, but thanks. Now, about the service.”

“Oh my apologies. I thought Beth said you’d name him after your friend. Spencer it is,” the pastor says, winking at me. Something tells me he knew my name all along. “Come on. Come in and read a book for now. We’ll begin in twenty minutes or so.” The lost, unmoving look on Dennis’ face causes the pastor to say, “Look son, we don’t begin until 10:30. Hayley said you’d come early. She may have mentioned that I should be out here to see you with my own four eyes.” The round man laughs so hard he nearly snorts.

I snicker at Dennis. Hayley set him up.

The pastor looks to me with a suggestion, “You might want to try the history section, young sir, and self-improvement for your old man.”

“History?”

“Yes. I’m not as out and about as I was before the knee surgery, but I still know people. You need to learn something about previous wars before your own begins.”

Dennis chuckles, “You sound like you know him better than you let on.”

“I do. Not every spiritual being looks like a beast.” We both observe him closely; I mentally dissect his face. Something about him reminds me of a pig. His pink cheeks or raised nose. At least he’s funny. As we walk in, he says, “Oink,” and wiggles his eyebrows.