© 2016 Lissette E. Manning

All Rights Reserved.


Apollo growled with frustration as he walked along, his blue eyes blazing with suppressed fury. He couldn’t believe Artemis had easily dismissed his willingness to help her. Granted, he wasn’t that familiar with the prophecy she’d spoken of, but that didn’t mean he was that clueless about the world around him. He’d decided to give her a day or two to come around, but the days had come and gone with no word from her.

She’d piqued his curiosity in regards to the girl in the photograph she’d shown him. At nineteen years of age, the young woman was a sight to behold with her lustrous blue-black hair and vivid cornflower blue eyes. She was a woman that drew a man’s interest in more ways than one. To his astonishment, he now wanted to know more about her.

He slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his brow dipping low as he thought about the girl and the prophecy. How had Artemis come across it in the first place? he wondered. Why is it so important that she have this girl under her wing?

Those questions and more tumbled through his mind as he walked along. He couldn’t help but to wonder what his sister was getting him into. Whatever it was, he knew he couldn’t walk away from it.

Artemis’ memory was embedded deep within his soul. She was his twin, his confidant, and so much more. Their sordid relationship had begun as a result of having to band together in order to save their mother time and time again. Back then, they’d had no one to see them through the hectic ordeals they’d faced. The twins had done the only thing they could have done in such times of hardship. They’d turned to each other, and now the rest was history.

And now, here I am doing yet another favor for the bitch, he thought ruefully.

He loved Artemis. There was no question about that, but sometimes, she got on his nerves. Most especially when she exerted her holier-than-thou attitude over him. He understood the fact that she was older than him. She’d gone through so much more than he had before he’d been born. In a sense, she was like a surrogate mother to him, since she’d helped their mother birth him. Yet he preferred not to think about that fact too much. Doing so allowed him to see Artemis in a much different light.

Apollo slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans, taking in the bright flashing lights of the big city. New York was one of his favorite places to be, most especially at night. He was able to blend into the crowd, and give in to his baser desires often. Man or woman, he didn’t care as long as his passions were satisfied time and again. Granted, none held a candle to Artemis, but that was something that couldn’t be helped.

He shook his head to clear it, wishing that thoughts of his sister didn’t follow him everywhere he went. She was like a thorn in his side. No matter how much he tried to forget about her, she was always there.

Focusing his thoughts on the picture his sister had shown him, he manifested an exact copy of the photograph. He snatched the glossy paper out of the thin air as it hovered nearby. The sight of the girl’s face taunted him. His sister’s latching on to the girl might have been an accident, but there was no denying that young woman was extraordinary.

The look of determination on her face had been captured perfectly on film. Though she smiled, her eyes spoke a different story. They seemed sad, a little too sad. He couldn’t help but to wonder as to what had marred her happiness at that given moment. Apollo would have given anything to brighten up her day, then and there.

He took a deep breath and shoved the picture into the right pocket of his jeans. Now was not the time to worry about such things. Apollo needed something to quell the rampant thoughts tumbling through his mind. Sex, drugs, booze—he didn’t care as long as it took his mind off of Artemis and the matter at hand. Striding into the nearest establishment, he grinned as the loud music and strobing lights drew his attention.

This will do perfectly, he thought as he pushed through the crowd and made his way toward the nearest bar.