Chapter 2

The late afternoon sun blazed brutally overhead causing droplets of sweat to cascade down his forehead, hair spilling into his eyes. James crouched and stuck the sword of Achilles into the steamy ground. He reached up and swept back his medium-length dark hair out of his face and did his best to wipe the exertion from his brow. And here I thought the last few weeks were hot, he chided himself.

The air was muggy and oppressive to the extreme, the humidity dense enough to slice through it like a warm stick of butter. He gripped the handle of the blade, slid it free from the ground, and took a deep breath. Ugh . . . tastes like swamp water.

Suddenly, a gleaming bronze-like spear came whizzing toward him and as the sharp tip came within feet of his body, he took the force of it on the shield which he held aloft with his left arm. The metal on metal contact rang out, echoing around the granite stadium.

James took off at a sprint, heading straight for his two oppo-

nents.

He roared mightily as he brought down his blade in a high arc aiming to topple Anita Romero before she could get any kind of attack in with her saber. The Latin beauty barely managed to roll out of the way, the divine metal missing her by inches.

At that moment, Blakeney came charging down in hope to over-

take him on his exposed flank. But James was ready for it.

With a shove of his shield, he sent Romero sprawling uncer-

emoniously to the ground before pivoting deftly on his left foot and leaping high into the air. Such was the amount of force he brought to bear behind the swing of his blade, the older man didn’t stand a chance.

The resounding clang of the two swords colliding was piercing to the ears and sent a jarring, reverberating thrum up into his arm. But his heart pumped with exertion, his adrenaline-focused mind registered an opening, and he swung the blade towards Blakeney; the flat side of it slammed into the older man’s chest effectively removing him from combat. She only thinks she can still sneak up on me, he thought as his divine visceral instincts took note of the quickened footsteps from behind.

James flipped his heavy shield onto his back just as Romero’s

saber completed its strike.

The moment he felt contact, he dove forward like a cheetah launching into its first burst of speed, tucked in on himself, rolled and spun around on a planted heel; he was ready for more. With a taunting smirk, he threw his shield to the ground, egging her on. After all, he didn’t want to make it too easy on himself.

Slowly, he began to stalk his prey.

James feigned left and quickly thrust his sword straight and true.

Romero was only momentarily taken by surprise. As the deadly

tip of his blade would’ve made contact, she took one step back and parried with a downward slice of her own.

His front now exposed, James only had one choice. Using his greater strength as an advantage, he locked swords with her, bringing them high, and slammed an open palm into her breastbone.

She lost her balance and toppled backward.

Not allowing her to regain any semblance of composure, he pumped his legs forward in anticipation and drove his blade down straight at her head. At the last second, he diverted the strike and the metal sunk foot deep into the ground.

With wide eyes and a heaving chest, Romero threw a fearful

sideways glance at the sword of Achilles.

“You good?” James asked, smiling confidently. He held out a

sweaty hand to help her up.

“That was close,” she commented.

He chuckled under his breath. “Hey, you’re the one who almost

stuck me like a pig with that spear.”

She took his hand and stood. “Point taken.”

“Very good, James,” observed Blakeney from where he had watched the exchange. “Way to use every tactic available to you.” He glanced at the piercing sun and added, “Now sprint to the tire. Flip it until you move it off the field.”

James sighed a weary breath and took off for where the large, tractor tire sat baking in the sun almost forty yards away. He was already exhausted from the last few hours of training and his shirtless body was completely drenched in sweat. After each simulated fight, Blakeney would make him run sprints, flip the tire numerous times, do walking lunges, ridiculous amounts of push-ups, or whatever else the older man could think up in order to push his body to the limit. With almost a month of this extreme training behind him, he had easily packed on ten pounds of lean muscle; his body had been molded into that of a warrior’s.

He reached the tire, took a breath, and braced himself for the burn from the sun-baked rubber. Finding a hand hold, he drove with his legs and flipped the massive tire over with a grunt.

Again.

And again.

After several more flips, and with a last effort, he managed to man-

handle the tire onto the track and off the grass. With all the adrenaline now drained from his body, he toppled over to the ground completely exhausted. The sun bore down onto his body as he lay there, darkening the already deep and savage tan. He closed his bright blue-gray eyes and enjoyed the precious moments of rest. After a satisfying minute, a shadow fell across his lank form. Without opening his eyes, James said, “Yeah . . . I’m not moving. Kill me if you must.”

Blakeney laughed deeply. “Don’t worry we’re done for the day. You did good. Every day you get better James. Stronger, too. I couldn’t even hold up to that attack you came at me with.”

He cracked an eyelid and smiled up at the older man.

“Come on,” said Blakeney. “You can’t just lay there like a beached

whale.”

With an exhausted grunt, James pulled himself up using Blak-

eney as a hand hold. He flicked a glance around the stadium. “Ms. Romero okay?”

“She’ll be fine,” said Blakeney. “She’ll probably have a nice bruise

on her chest, but she will be fine.”

The tired pair laughed and joked comfortably as they made their way over to the stands to grab discarded clothing and equipment. Over the past month, the two had become much closer. Though James viewed Blakeney as a kind of father-figure, he also saw the older man as a friend. Spending everyday with someone will usually have that effect. Even though he now knew that Zeus was his biological father, that didn’t change the love he felt towards Blakeney. He had been there for him during the last month and all the trials it contained. It had been four weeks since Eliza’s departure and subsequent severing of communication. James still felt empty without her and he knew that void would not be filled until her radiant smile was back in his life. Not to mention him dealing with his newfound parentage. The son of Zeus!? How do you live up to that? James shook his head and pushed the thoughts from his mind. “So, any ideas on what might happen next?” he asked, for what was probably the hundredth time, not much hope of a different answer evident in his tone.

Blakeney shook his head. “No. You would know as well as I see-

ing as how much time you spend in the Archives.” That was true.

Over the last month, all his spare time had been spent study-

ing the ancient codices, books, diaries, and scrolls in the Archives. Well, those that he could understand anyway. Which consequently limited him to English and Latin. But hey, his Latin had improved ten-fold. With his renewed dedication to who he was, James wanted to unlock every facet of knowledge hidden within the old documents. “Yeah, I know,” he sighed. “I was just hoping.”

“The hard thing about being on the defensive side in a war,” Blakeney continued, “is exactly that: you are always on the defensive. Seeing as we don’t know Clurife’s plans, we have to wait on him and react appropriately.”

James glanced over at the older man as they continued along the cobble-stoned path towards Washington Manor. “You’re right, but it still sucks.”

Blakeney chuckled appreciatively. “You are correct . . . it does

suck.”

When they arrived at the Director’s house, the weaponry was

deposited in the front sitting room, and James slowly made his way upstairs to his room. He badly wanted—not to mention needed—a shower. As he kicked off his shoes, his sweat-drenched shorts and underwear, he meditatively studied the poster that was plastered over his bed. The dream of flying through a thunderstorm still plagued his sleep once a week, but at least Hades no longer spoke to him in them. That experience was just creepy, he admitted. Shaking off the memory of the deep, feathery voice, James grabbed a towel and trudged into the bathroom.

The steaming hot jets of water cascaded over his exhausted body, washing away the sweat and grime from yet another hard day of training. After several minutes and much soap and shampoo, he stepped from the shower and dried off. Looking into the mirror, he studied his changed physique. If you asked James about it, and he felt like being honest, he would admit that he liked the way his body now looked. His chest had filled in, his arms had grown in strength and size, and the lines of his abdomens had deepened.

Absently, he ran the tips of his fingers over the now healed scars

situated on his right side.

It had been a little weird how it had happened, but the morning after speaking with Zeus, he had awoken to find that both his left hand and his rib cage had been fully healed. Only the dull, old-looking scars remained as evidence that anything had happened at all. Obviously, his father had imparted a kind of accelerated healing whenever the god had touched his shoulder.

But these weren’t the only differences of the past month. Appar-

ently, all the intense training had caused a boost of testosterone in his system as his facial hair had begun to thicken as well. James found this annoying because he hated having to shave but hated facial stubble even more. Grinding his teeth against the prospect, he lathered his face with shaving cream and quickly eliminated the accumulated growth. That done, he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed into his room to dress for dinner.

No sooner had he crossed the threshold than his eyes met a most beautiful and needed sight. The breath caught in his throat and his pulse began to race as fast as a horse at full gallop. For just a moment, he thought he was possibly hallucinating, because just like an angel would, she stood before him iridescent and glowing as if out of a dream. The void within his soul began to be filled as his only love once again reached down into the depths of his despair and pulled him from the mire. There was only one who would ever be able to do that so long as he lived: Eliza.

In that first breath his eyes took her in. Her auburn-red hair was significantly lightened by the continued sun exposure and was pulled up into her go-to ponytail; her glowing, golden skin was shown off in short khaki shorts and dark green camisole; her incredible hazel-green eyes were showing the first signs of moisture as undoubtedly the emotion of such a moment was overwhelming.

That first breath allowed him to regain his wits about him, her too apparently, and at the same instant, they stepped towards each other and James wrapped her up in his arms as if she were the first drink of water for a dying, thirsty man stumbling around in a desert. With complete disregard for the fact that he was clad in only a towel, James lifted her off her feet and swung her around.

A wondrous giggle bubbled from her lips.

Just the sound of her laughter filled him with abundant joy. He set her gently back onto her feet and gazed steadily into her eyes. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” Eliza quietly responded, her smile broadening.

Wanting to preserve this moment and take a snapshot for fu-

ture reference, he moved slowly, his emotions barely containable. At first contact of their lips, jolts of electricity were sent hurling through his body, to his extremities, as new life was sparked within him. His lips pressed against hers in great need as he pulled her closer to him and her body melded to his.

Eliza parted his lips with a nudge of her own, her warm- sweet

breath washing over him, and her tongue searched for his.

Not desiring for her to be in wanting, he met her tongue eagerly and their kiss became like a passionate ballet, both parties moving in perfect synchronicity. Minutes or hours could have passed and neither of them would’ve cared, but finally, and with great reluctance, James broke the kiss. He searched her eyes from only inches away and smiled as he found a radiant beauty within them.

Eliza lifted one side of her mouth in a crooked smirk. “Are you

wearing only a towel?”

“Uh . . .” he stammered, glancing down at his toweled waist. “Yeah.”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Get dressed muscle boy and come downstairs. I’d hate to have Mr. Blakeney see us in here with you almost naked.” Eliza placed her hands on his chest and kissed him lightly on the lips. She pulled back, spun on a heel, and padded barefoot out of the room.

James quickly threw on a pair of shorts, a navy-blue t-shirt, and exited the room in a hurry; he desperately wanted to be reunited with his love once more.

“I see you’ve met our new house guest,” Blakeney observed with a small smile on his lips as James walked into the kitchen where he and Eliza had congregated.

A goofy grin was plastered all over his face as he saw her once again. Looking at her like she was the giver of life brought the blood to her cheeks in a hearty blush. The last two words finally registered, and he asked, “Wait . . . house guest?”

Eliza nodded with raised brows.

“Yes,” Blakeney answered. “Ms. Masters will be staying out the

summer here with us.”

Questions danced in James’s blue-gray eyes.

“Why don’t you take a seat and allow her to explain,” finished the

older man.

James crossed the rich, hardwood floors of the kitchen and sat next to Eliza at the sturdy breakfast table. He waited patiently for an explanation.

“Okay,” she said and pursed her lips to give herself time to men-

tally compose her words. “So, the past month there’s been . . . a decision looming over me, I guess you could say.”

He opened his mouth to ask a question and was quickly cut off. She held up a hand. “No interruptions.” James chuckled softly at her pushiness.

“I realized that after what happened, there’s no going back.” Eli-

za sighed heavily, her eyes holding his. “I can’t just go back to a normal life and act like none of it happened or . . . that what’s coming isn’t coming. So, what I’m here for—and you’ve got no say in this whatsoever—is to train along with you to get ready for whatever’s next.”

He laughed. “Well since I have no say in it . . . sounds good, war-

rior princess. Or should I just call you Xena?”

She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes menacingly. “You

shall do no such thing, or I’ll beat you up.”

“I missed you so much,” he bellowed with laughter, shaking his

head.

“Which brings up to some ground rules,” said Blakeney, setting

down two plates of food before them and getting one of his own.

He and Eliza both grumbled in almost perfect unison.

Blakeney laughed under his breath. “There’s no need for all that. I just wanted to say that I know you two are almost adults, so I won’t say much, but I do not want any . . . adult relations,” Blakeney said visibly uncomfortable, clearing his throat, “going on in this house.”

Eliza had turned a beet red at the awkward conversation. “Mr.

Blakeney, you have nothing to worry about,” she told him in barely more than a whisper, her eyes downcast.

“Yeah . . . like that wasn’t completely embarrassing,” stated James.

“I’m sorry you two, I just had to make sure. So . . . let’s dig in,

shall we.”

After dinner—grilled chicken breasts, wild rice, and mixed veg-

etables—he and Eliza were cleaning the dishes and catching up on their month apart. “So,” James said with a playful elbow in her ribs. “Have fun in the Bahamas?”

Eliza nodded. “Yeah. We went deep-sea fishing and did some diving, but mainly I laid around and put everything into perspective.”

She scoffed. “My mom even made me talk to a psychologist.” He tread carefully here. “How . . . are you and your mom?”

“Oh, we’re fine,” she smiled. “Great actually. She’s finally starting to realize that I am not her but my own person. I guess she understands now that it’s okay for me to have my own career and not just be some rich guy’s housewife.”

“Well, that’s good,” James observed.

She looked over at him as he scrubbed the last dirty dish thought-

fully. Eliza leaned into him and kissed his cheek, her lips lingering. “She also said that we’re good for each other.”

He stopped what he was doing and moved his eyes to hers. “Re-

ally?” he asked, not able to hide the hope filling his voice.

Eliza smiled and nodded.

“Well . . . I mean,” he shrugged in over exaggerated nonchalance, “it’s not like a big deal or anything.”

She laughed at him. “Oh, shut up and hand me that plate. I also

got a new car,” she informed him as she took hold of the plate he offered.

“Why’s that?”

“When the police went back to get the Academy Mercedes from the factory where I was held, they tried searching for my car but never found it. So,” she shrugged, then beamed at him, “I got a four-door Fiat this time. More room.”

He shook his head with laughter and focused back on their task.

The sun was beginning to set as the last dish was put up and the counters wiped. James watched as she wiped the table down, smiling at how blessed he was to have someone like her love him. Everything about her was beautiful: her angular cheekbones, upturned nose, and light dusting of freckles—paired up with her firecracker of a personality—added up to an awe inspiring natural beauty inside and out.

As he continued to drink her in, Eliza could feel his eyes on her.

“You done staring yet?” she asked, turning to face him.

“Not even close.”

She rolled her eyes.

He held out a hand for her to take. “Let’s take a walk. I want to

show you something.”

They each donned a pair of shoes and James led her off the back

porch in the general direction of the woods.

In the intervening time since Zeus had led him over to the scorched temple, James had hacked away a path through the woods so that he could more easily visit. He could tell that at one time there was a path from the Director’s house, but over the last several decades it had become completely overgrown. Every morning he would come out here with some tools and clear away bushes and grasses that had sprung up. It was only one way of his to take his mind off the enormous weight of responsibility that had come to rest on his shoulders. With her hand in his, he led her along the wooded path. After a few minutes of silent walking, except for the crunch of fallen twigs snapping under their steps, he asked, “Have you ever been over here to see the old school?”

“No,” she admitted, shaking her head. “I’ve seen it from the water

of course, but I’ve never actually been by it.”

“It’s pretty cool actually, come on.”

They broke out of the woods and into the ancient, deserted school grounds. James stopped her and pointed out the dilapidated building. The setting sun, which streaked the sky with deepening hues of orange and red, shone brightly through the shattered windows of the building creating a mosaic effect in the shadows. It was a simple, yet elegant beauty which could be appreciated by anyone who would only take the time for observation. He gave her a moment of peace, then led her along to the temple of Zeus.

Eliza gasped in awe at the sight of it. “Oh . . . it’s . . . it’s an exact

replica of the temple of Zeus in Olympia.” Her brows stitched together in question as she studied the granite closer. “What’s all that black stuff?”

James smiled knowingly. “I’ll tell you in a minute. Do you want

to go inside?”

“Can we?” she asked, her eyes alive with excitement.

With a nod, he led the way into the granite temple.

Passing the columned entryway, Eliza stopped to admire the ar-

chitecture. “Look at the Dorian design of the columns,” she said as she pressed her hand lovingly against them. “Aren’t they incredible?”

He didn’t exactly share her love of architecture, but he could see

the simple beauty of the features. James bit his lip, admiring her wondrous daze and allowed her to lead the way into the structure. Eliza gasped, oohed, and awed at each new carving and feature of the old temple. As they finally made their way into the inner sanctum of the temple, her eyes flew wide in shock at the massive statue of Zeus looming over them as if the god were reaching down from the heavens with a bolt of lightning.

“How did you find this place?” Eliza asked in reverence after a

few silent moments.

James cleared his throat, gathering his thoughts. “Well, after you left, I was watching the sunset out by the boat houses when Zeus came to me.”

That information caused her eyes to flash in disbelief and incre-

dulity.

“Yeah . . . I know, right?” he rolled his eyes. “Anyways. He led me here and we just . . . talked for a while. He told me all about the Decree of Humanity and what had led up to that decision and how he had struck this temple with lightning as a pledge of his after the decree. He even told me that he had been watching me and everything that had happened.”

“But,” Eliza started in confusion, “why would he do that?”

James chortled nervously. “Apparently . . . I’m his son.” He had

spoken the last words as quickly as possible.

She blinked blankly at him. “excuse me?”

“Zeus is uh . . . my father.”

“Wow,” Eliza said as if trying out the word.

“Wow is right,” agreed James.

“So you’re like Heracles and Perseus and all that?”

“God, don’t remind me,” he said. “I have enough to deal with

without thinking about living up to those legacies. Anyways . . .” he continued on, “afterwards, I made that path through the woods so I could come out here more often. I like to watch the sunset from the front steps every day. I don’t know . . . I guess it makes me feel a little closer to him.”

Eliza nodded slowly, taking all of it in. The new information only added to the list of items which made her love him. To her, he was incredibly handsome, but also humble. She loved that he was kind and generous and determined to forge his own path in life—something which they shared. Not to mention the fact that he had already shown his willingness to lay down his life for her. She realized more and more that she would never find another man who could be more perfect for her. She looked out of a glass-less window at the darkening sky and smiled at him. “Come on, son of Zeus, take me home before it’s too dark.”

James laughed as the gravity had lifted, scooped her up into his arms, and kissed her greedily on the lips; the familiar sensation of tingly, electrical charges surged throughout his body at the brief contact. The kiss broken, he held her close, breathing in her sweet, fruity scent. “I love you,” he murmured into her hair.

She kissed his neck. “I love you, too.” Pulling away slightly, Eliza gazed into his eyes, right before she shoved him away with a mocking grin.

“Oh, yeah,’ he declared and grabbed her again, not allowing her

to dance away. James tickled her fervently only wanting to hear her highpitched infectious laugh. He was rewarded with uncontrollable giggling and squirming.

“You . . . are . . . so . . . dead,” she threatened in between bursts of

laughter.

Finally, she managed to escape, but not without an additional

shove to his chest.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop.” James held up his hands in surrender.

She feigned a pout and stuck out her tongue at him. “Good, now

let’s go home.”

“You have no idea how good it sounds to hear you say that.”

Later that night, he was lying awake in bed recapping everything

that had changed that day. Having Eliza back in his arms was the greatest gift he could’ve received. James had missed her incredibly so and could not imagine going on much longer without her. He was even glad that she would now be training with him because she needed to be able to defend herself and undoubtedly, she would be involved with the coming war in some way or another. He smiled inwardly at how tough she was and how her support was much needed. Now if we could only figure out what’s next, he thought despairingly. His reverie was interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

“James, you awake?” Eliza whispered, peering around the door.

He smiled in the darkness. “If I wasn’t, would it have mattered?” “Not really.”

“Come in then,” James chuckled, slid across the full-size bed,

and held the covers back for her.

She slipped beneath the sheets, her silk pajamas feeling cool against his skin, and immediately laid her head onto his bare chest. “You think Mr. Blakeney will care?”

“Probably not. As long as we don’t have adult relations,” he

mocked the older man.

Eliza giggled, then sighed. “Besides training, you never did tell me what you’ve been up to the last few weeks,” she whispered into his chest, her breath tickling his skin.

“Nothing exciting. Just studying.” Well, it was partly true. What

he was doing down in the Archives was technically studying.

“Oh, what fun,” she muttered.

A deep chuckled rumbled in his chest. “Tell me about it.” “Is training really hard?” she wanted to know.

“Very,” James responded sleepily.

A satisfied silence settled between them as they each became

comfortable and the first vestiges of sleep came over them. Before succumbing to the land of dreams, he whispered, “I’m glad you’re home.”

Eliza smiled even though he couldn’t see it in the lack of light. Words could barely describe how much she had missed him and right now, in this moment, she had everything she wanted. “Me, too,” she whispered.