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Thalia
Thalia managed to wake him up again just long enough to swallow some water and aspirin to bring his fever down. As hot as he was, she wished she could get him into the tub and cool him down with ice water, but she wasn’t sure she’d ever get him back out again if she managed it. Pressing a wet washcloth to his forehead was the best she could do for the moment, and when he dozed instead of slept, he grasped her hand so tightly her fingers ached.
But the rest of her sang with surges of emotion so strong she couldn’t breathe. This was what she had felt when he kissed her that first time, his desire starting fireworks of her own, but this time, it was love washing through her until her heart filled to bursting and her body ached for his. It was warmth and the shiver of his kiss along her spine and the strength of his arms around her.
She curled up beside him, pillowing her head on his good shoulder, and stared out the window. Was this all it was? His touch and desires driving her need? But even when she wasn’t with him, she wanted him, and not just his body but his laugh and his easy confidence and the way he always stubbornly swallowed when she fed him processed food he’d rather spit back out again. Without him, she missed his teasing and the furrow of his forehead when he saw some new modern convenience he couldn’t quite wrap his three thousand year old head around.
What she felt now was so different from what had driven her from Josh’s bed. And if he had meant to draw her back, why hadn’t he simply stopped her from leaving in the first place? When she caught his hand in the kitchen to keep him from touching her again, why hadn’t he made her feel this? Why hadn’t he come out of the woods when she called to him, and taken her hand in his?
He could have convinced her in a heartbeat, but he didn’t. He could have washed out all her pain and replaced it with this bone-deep certainty of love, and she would have forgotten her objections between one caress and the next. He could have changed her mind for her, if he’d wanted to.
And if that were true, what else could he do?
What else had he done already?
***
WHEN HIS FEVER DIDN’T break, even with the aspirin, she called Steven. It wasn’t like she could take him to the hospital when he had no identification to speak of, never mind health insurance. The state he was in, he wouldn’t understand what was happening to him or where he was; she had no idea how he’d respond to doctors and nurses trying to tell him what to do or how on earth they could explain his wound. And despite the flood of reassurance that came with his touch, she was beginning to worry.
“I’m not sure what you expect me to do, Thalia,” Steven said, and she’d been lucky to get him on the phone at all. “I’m four hours away under the best of circumstances and if it’s just a fever—”
“It isn’t just a fever. His shoulder is hurt, a puncture, and I don’t know what to do for him. If it’s an infection, it’s only going to get worse, isn’t it?”
“Not necessarily. His body is fighting it, obviously. There isn’t any sign of blood poisoning, is there? Elevated heart rate, rapid breathing, red streaks from the wound?”
She peeled back the bandage as gently as she could, but Pirithous groaned in his sleep. The half-healed hole in his shoulder was leaking yellow puss. “I don’t think so. Not yet. But it’s pretty gross, and he’s in a lot of pain.”
“The hospital will treat him as a John Doe. You know that, right?”
“Even if I could get him into the car, which I can’t—he’s got to weigh over two hundred pounds—taking him to the hospital is going to get him into even more trouble. I can’t risk it, Steven.”
“What is he, some kind of fugitive?”
“No.” She tugged the bandage the rest of the way off to let his shoulder breathe. He’d been lying dead still since she brought him inside anyway. “He’s just kind of um—he isn’t supposed to be in the country. And the way things are now... It wouldn’t end well if the wrong people found out about him.”
Steven sighed into the phone. “I just got off a 16 hour shift. Let me get an hour of sleep and then I’ll hit the road, all right?”
“I really appreciate it, Steven.”
“Yeah, well. You owe me big time. Especially since I have a feeling I’m going to be breaking the law for you before this is over. This guy better be worth everything you’re doing for him.”
“You have no idea,” she said, feeling some of the tension drain from the knots in her stomach. “Drive safe.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll call you when I hit the road.”
She hung up and exchanged the warm washcloth on Pirithous’s forehead with a cold one. His eyes opened a slit. “Thalia.”
“Shh,” she said, stroking his cheek. He was still so hot. “Just rest.”
He murmured something that sounded vaguely Greek, trapping her hand beneath his.
“I don’t understand Achaean, Pirithous. Can you speak English?”
His eyes closed, his forehead furrowing. “Forgive me.”
She shook her head, turning the washcloth over and smoothing his hair. “There’s nothing to forgive. It’s just your shoulder. You’ve been overdoing it, that’s all. A little rest and you’ll be good as new again.”
The barest hint of a smile curved his lips. “You don’t believe that.”
“I have to believe it.”
“Apollo will heal me.” He shifted, then grunted as the movement jarred his shoulder. “This is only a reminder that I live at all to serve them.”
“No offense to Apollo, but I’d rather not have to depend on divine intervention.”
“You called for your friend?”
She nodded, searching his face to be certain it didn’t upset him. “He won’t be here for a while. Sometime in the early evening. Then we can get you antibiotics if you need them. But you’re not going to be able to build that temple or fight any centaurs for a while.”
“I have suffered from fever before, Thalia.” He squeezed her hand and she felt a swell of reassurance slip up her arm like a caress.
“Stop that,” she murmured. “You should be saving your strength.”
He released her hand, gray eyes darkening. “I would not have you worry.”
“I’m allowed to worry if I want to.” There were so many things she wanted to ask, but now wasn’t the time. Explanation of exactly what he was doing would have to wait. “Drink some water, while you’re awake enough not to choke.”
The creases around his eyes eased when she offered him the cup with a straw, so he wouldn’t have to move his shoulder. She probably shouldn’t have been having sex with him all this time, while he was healing. She should have let him rest instead of encouraging him. But it hadn’t seemed to bother him, and he certainly hadn’t hesitated in his own seductions.
“Thalia,” he said, his fingers brushing hers. “None of this is your fault.”
“So you read minds now, too?” She pulled the cup away and set it on the bedside table.
His lips twitched. “I need not read minds to sense your guilt. You forget I spent three thousand years tied to a chair before I came to you, and from that, too, I had not yet healed. My body is weak, still.”
She strangled a laugh. “You’re telling me that you bent that light post without even using your full strength?”
“Always so surprised.” His laugh died almost before it began, his jaw tightening with pain for a moment before he went on. “I am the son of Zeus. Heracles held the whole world upon his shoulders, or do you not know the story of Atlas?”
“Oh,” she said, thinking of his response when she suggested they find an atlas so he could see a map of the country. “That Atlas.”
“Mm.” He smiled and she thought he was thinking of the same thing, the way his eyes tightened. They were fever bright. “You can imagine I had no wish to meet with him and test my strength when I knew myself to be so weak. Not that any of us would be foolish enough to fall for his tricks after Heracles told the tale far and wide.”
She moved around the bed to sit on his good side. He was rambling, a sheen of sweat standing out on his face. “You should rest, Pirithous.”
His palm found her thigh, his thumb tickling, and she covered his hand to stop it. “You do not know how hard it was for me not to come when you called, and now you are with me, and I cannot stand to sleep when we have so little time.”
She sighed, threading her fingers through his. “I didn’t mean for you to leave like that.”
“I would have wanted to comfort you if I had stayed, and hurt you the more for it.” He pressed his lips together, closing his eyes. “I did not trust myself. Even now. I could not have refused you, if you were so near.”
“Don’t you have any faith in my self-control?”
“It would have been so easy—” he swallowed, opening his eyes again. His fingers tightened around hers and a wash of love flowed through her, until her chest felt too small for her heart and tears pricked her eyes. “Forgive me. I could not find the words.”
“Rest, Pirithous.” She leaned forward, kissing his cheek, still so hot against her lips. She tried not to worry that antibiotics would be as worthless as the aspirin. “I’ll stay with you, but you have to rest.”
***
HE HAD FINALLY FALLEN into something more than a doze when she heard a car door slam outside. She slipped away from Pirithous as carefully as she could and went to the front of the house. The doorbell would wake him up without question, and the fact that he was still sleeping was the greatest testament to how much he needed the rest. In her experience, he normally slept so lightly, his hand reached for his sword at the slightest noise in the night. Whether it was his concern about the centaurs or the strange surroundings or some habit from his days before Hades, she’d probably never know.
She peeked out from behind the curtain, relief flooding through her more powerfully than Pirithous’s strange reassurances. Steven, finally, judging by the blonde hair and the blue scrubs. She opened the door before he reached the top of the stairs, too anxious and eager to wait.
“He’s still burning up, but his heartbeat is steady.” Thalia had been listening to his heart for the better part of three hours, lying beside him in her bed. She kissed Steven’s cheek and held the door open for him. “Thank you for this.”
“You’re lucky I already had tomorrow off—” He stopped short before he was even inside, and Thalia turned to see Pirithous, sword in hand, his blue-gray eyes too bright and sweat beading on his forehead.
“Thalia?” Steven asked.
Pirithous said something in Achaean that sounded like a question. Thalia swore, grabbing Steven by the arm and pushing him behind her. Pirithous wasn’t looking at her with any kind of recognition or warmth, and if he didn’t know her, he definitely wouldn’t recognize that Steven wasn’t a threat.
“What are you—”
“He’s not going to hurt me. I’m just a woman.” She met Pirithous’s eyes, wishing she’d asked him to teach her some Achaean after he’d learned English. Not that she could have anticipated something like this. “Pirithous?”
His eyes narrowed, the sword point shifting ever so slightly. Just over her shoulder, where Steven stood.
“Pirithous, this is my friend, Steven. I told you he was coming, remember? To look at your shoulder. Because of the fever.”
“How high was his fever the last time you checked it?” Steven asked, his voice low.
She shook her head just slightly, squeezing his arm and hoping he’d get the hint to be quiet. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, directly toward the sword. Everything he’d told her suggested that he saw women as prizes more than enemies, and even if he took her as a prize, she wouldn’t be any worse off than she was now. Assuming he’d been honest when he said he never raped women.
“Pirithous, we’re guest-friends, remember? You gave me your gold armband.” She wrapped her fingers around the place where she’d worn it for the last week, but it wasn’t there. She could see it through the doorway, sitting on the kitchen counter where she’d left it. “You said you’d make me your qu–your wife, if we were in Thessaly.”
What was the word for wife in Greek? She’d heard it often enough, the way Nikki and Alex had been whispering it to one another. Even insufferable Alex spoke Greek properly. And now, the one time she needed to remember the simplest—oh!
“Gyneka!” She pressed her hand to her chest. “Remember? Or um. Syzigos?”
His forehead creased, but the sword dropped. He leaned back against the wall, and Thalia reached for him, pulling his good arm across her shoulders before he collapsed. “Please, please, please make it to the bedroom.”
“Should I follow?” Steven asked.
“Just give me a minute to get him settled.”
She guided him back down the hallway. God, even as much muscle as he had, he couldn’t weigh more than two hundred and fifty pounds. Unless he had ultra-dense demigod bones or something. She eased him to the bed rather than dropping him this time, but he still grunted in pain as he leaned back. When she tried to take the sword from his hand, he only tightened his grip.
“You’re not in any condition to fight anyway, you oaf.” Prying his fingers off the hilt one by one, she finally got it free and slid it back into the leather scabbard where he’d left it on the floor.
“Thalia?” He grabbed her arm and she looked up. Some of the feverish gleam had left his eyes, but his forehead was still creased. “You were gone.”
“I was letting Steven in.” She smoothed the lines from his forehead. “He’s here to look at your shoulder if you’ll promise not to draw a sword on him again.”
He grunted again, closing his eyes. “I thought he meant to take you away.”
“No one is going to take me anywhere while you’re sick. But it would help a lot if you’d stop forgetting English.”
“Sing the song to me, next time. I remember the song, even when I cannot find the words.”
“What song?”
“The letters.” He hummed the beginning and she stared at him. The alphabet song. “It was the first thing I heard in your mind when I learned your tongue.”
Steven knocked on the door. “Is it safe?”
Thalia kicked the sword under the bed. She would relocate it later. The last thing anyone needed was a feverish demigod with a sword imagining a centaur attack. “As safe as it’s ever going to be.”
Steven pushed the door open, a stethoscope around his neck. “You’re sure?”
Pirithous opened his eyes and forced a smile. “Forgive me, Steven. I forgot myself.”
“Oh, good. English will make this much easier.” No matter what else he was thinking, there was no sign of any of it in his face as he walked into the room. He extended his hand. “I understand your name is Pirithous. Thalia was pretty cagey on the phone.”
Pirithous clasped his arm rather than his hand, but Steven didn’t even blink.
“Let me just get a look at your shoulder, and then I’ll check your vitals.”
Pirithous glanced at her, his lips forming the word he didn’t recognize. He was just stubborn enough not to ask Steven, in spite of the fact that he was already lying sick in a bed.
“He’s going to listen to your heartbeat and your breathing,” she said. “Maybe test your reflexes. Nothing invasive.”
Pirithous nodded, and she took his hand, squeezing it tightly. She could feel his tension as Steven peeled back the new bandage, and his jaw worked, the muscles twitching beneath the skin.
“Well,” Steven said slowly, his eyes locked on the wound. “That’s not quite what I was expecting. Were you stabbed or...?”
“An arrow,” Thalia said. “With a stone head. I don’t know what kind of wood.”
“How long ago?”
She had to stop to count. “Four days?” It felt so much longer than that. “I pulled it out of his shoulder as carefully as I could. It didn’t go all the way through.”
“So I see.” Steven pressed the bandage back over it gently, his gaze drifting across his chest. Pirithous let out a long breath as close to a hiss as she’d ever heard him make. “You’re sure it was only four days ago?”
“I heal quickly,” Pirithous said.
“It looks like you’ve got plenty of past experience with this kind of thing,” Steven said, staring at his other shoulder. “That looks like the twin to this one over here. Another arrow?”
“A spear.”
Thalia pressed her lips together, her hand tightening around his. If he did read minds, or whatever it was he could do, let him read hers now. They couldn’t tell Steven the truth. He wouldn’t understand at best, and at worst he’d decide Pirithous needed to be committed.
“Pirithous was in the army,” she lied, hoping to God Steven wouldn’t pursue it any further. Beyond the fact that being born in America had saved Alex from compulsory conscription, she could fit what she knew about the Hellenic Armed Forces in a thimble. “He served in an elite unit, in Greece.”
“I didn’t realize the Greeks trained with spears.” But he put the stethoscope in his ears, and Thalia relaxed. It probably wouldn’t work on Alexandros—not without some better attention to the details of where and when and how he’d served—but she didn’t intend for Alexandros to ever see Pirithous shirtless, either. Steven had bought it, and for the moment, that was all that mattered.
***
SHE LEFT PIRITHOUS in the bedroom and went with Steven to the kitchen. They all needed something to eat, even if Pirithous claimed he had no appetite.
“So,” Steven said after the door had closed and they’d put some space between themselves and the bedroom. “Does Alex know you’re engaged to this guy?”
“I’m not engaged.”
“You said he wanted to marry you, before, when you were trying to talk him down from that hallucination-inspired sword-wielding performance. Which, by the way, what the hell was he doing with a sword?”
“It’s mine,” she lied again. And how many more would she have to tell? “One of those reproduction pieces.”
“Sure.” Steven opened a beer. “And you’re not engaged.”
“Why do you even care?”
“Because it makes a lot more sense if you called me up here from New York City to treat your undocumented immigrant Greek fiancé who you’re hiding from your brother and ICE.”
Thalia grabbed some yogurt from the fridge. It was the easiest thing to feed Pirithous, and she wasn’t really interested in cooking. “It’s complicated, okay? Can we just leave it there?”
“So you are engaged.”
“I might like to be, but there are some issues to work out before we can get there. His citizenship problems, for starters.”
“Alex is going to kill you.”
“What Alex doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt him.” She pulled a spoon out of the dishwasher and slammed it shut. “Besides, Pirithous is a hell of a lot bigger than Alex, and a lot more skilled in the art of taking people apart. I don’t think he’ll blink first.”
“Good for you,” Steven said. “Are you bringing him to the wedding?”
“It depends.”
“On?”
On whether or not he was still alive, and if she could find him in the woods. If he would let her find him. After the day before, she was starting to think that would be the bigger problem. She sighed, rubbing her forehead.
“Step one is making sure he survives this fever—I can’t even think about the rest until after that.”
Steven squeezed her shoulder. “If he means this much to you—you know I’ll do what I can.”