Omega Series: Omega Part 19

I love you, Mismatch.

Mismatch. It was the name I gave him when I was a child.

Shivering, my hand dropped from the table. "I remember how soft they were," I said.

Silence. For a moment, I didn't think he had heard.

"Softer than velvet. Blacker than night, and wider than the courtyard."

"What're you talking about?" A tight, hushed note was in his voice. I heard him pad closer and tensed, uncertain if he believed in fair fights or just winning, and what he'd do since he knew the stakes.

"Your wings."

His breath caught. He was so tense, I eased a hand toward a knife.

"You're a grotesque by night, human by day, brought to life around twelve years" I continued.

His fist smashed into the table, and I leapt back, without one of the precious knives.

Adonis was unhinged for the first time since I'd met him. "Who told you?" he demanded, eyes blazing and face flushed. He stepped towards me, and I had the impression of a lion about to attack.

I really had no other way to defend myself except with words. I raised my hands and kept my voice low, steady and calm as I responded. "No one told me. I remember. Mnemosyne showed me what I forgot."

"Which was what exactly?"

"Mismatch."

"That's not possible." He s.n.a.t.c.hed the material of my shirt and shoved me into a column, keeping me in place with his strong frame and the forearm across my throat. I was silent and too aware that I was out of knowledge about him. I hadn't known much about him at all when I was younger. "No one knows that name." His low voice was a threat, his eyes pinned to mine.

Uncomfortable yet not about to try to move, I struggled to pin down emotions that were starting to race within me. My first instinct was to either run or fight, and it was the wrong time for either reaction. I hadn't learned everything about handling the world I thought I had when leaving the forest. Determining the best way not to get killed was unexpectedly difficult.

We stared at each other in a thick silence. I had never been this close to a man other than Herakles, who didn't count never had my body pressed to another's. I was torn between believing the grotesque who risked his life for me when I was young would never hurt me and knowing the muscular body I was once more experiencing could destroy me before I had a chance to speak again.

And then there was the other emotion, the one tied to my fevered insides and the fluttering of my stomach that seemed ridiculously out of place at a time like this. Adonis was ... attractive. More so now that I knew he could turn into a mythical monster, which was beyond intriguing. Even more so after seeing him rescue me when I was a child. From the eyes that resembled the gem at my chest to the quiet intensity and self-a.s.surance, he could outrun, outsmart and out maneuver me, all of which were Herakles' conditions for any boy to get near me.

He was kind of incredible.

a.s.suming he didn't kill me. I studied his perfect features. He was struggling. Though against what, I couldn't tell. I sure as Hades wasn't resisting. It had to be the G.o.ddess trying to make him remember.

"Your nose is bleeding again," I ventured.

He touched it with his free hand and gazed briefly at the blood. Gla.s.siness crossed his eyes. With no warning, he stepped back and shook his head, stumbled another step and weaved on his feet.

I stared at him, not expecting the weird weakness to return. He had displayed none of it upon our first meeting.

"How did you know of my ... condition?" he asked and rested the heel of one palm against his temple.

"Condition?" I repeated. "Sounds like you're sick, but you're not. You're a grotesque."

He shot me a warning look and this time, I saw the pain.

The image of him on the kitchen floor distracted me long enough to cost me the chance to reach for a knife on the table. Able to read his opponent, he shifted between me and the table without raising his guard.

I did the only thing I could. "We met twelve years ago," I started, at a loss as to what else to do except talk. My new memories were crisp and clear. "You were a statue on the Temple of Artemis. I woke you up one day, and you came to visit me later that night. I awoke ... your stuffed animal, too. Her name is Mrs. Nettles. I didn't understand why you had her at first but now I get it. She's kind of alive and has been since you met her."

He lifted his head, the tension creeping back into his frame.

He does not like to talk about this. "You tried to rescue me when I was little but got uh ... hurt." I barely stopped from mentioning who hurt him. How he let Herakles go when he'd nearly killed him ...

"Hurt," he repeated. His intent gaze shifted to me.

Unless he can't remember either. His scrutiny supported Mnemosyne's claim.

"You know. Fell out of the sky. Both of us did."

"I don't just fall out of the sky. Something happened."

"You, uh, have a scar here?" I asked and touched one side then the other. "And here?"

His head lowered, and his predatory glare gave me chills.

"You were rescuing me and got stabbed," I continued.

"By whom?" He stepped towards me.

I very wisely began to step back at the same speed. "Not by me!" I exclaimed. "I was six."

"But you know who did it."

"It was kind of a long time ago."

A knife appeared in one of his hands.

"What's important is that you don't want to hurt me. You shouldn't hurt me, I mean," I said. "We aren't enemies."

"Enough. Draw your weapons."

"I don't have any."

He winced and ceased stalking me, one hand hovering at his head again. I didn't know enough about the ribbons to understand what they were supposed to tell me.

"This isn't a normal headache, is it? "I asked. "Mnemosyne is trying to show you what you've forgotten."

"Not your concern." He wobbled on his feet. Seconds later, he dropped to his knee, holding his head.

I studied him. "You can't remember me but when we're around each other, something happens to you," I guessed. "You feel the connection, don't you?"

He said nothing. He was regulating his breathing as if to calm himself.

"I named you Mismatch," I added. "After I awoke you. Do you remember that?"

No response.

Squatting to see his face better, I kept my distance, not about to end up shredded because he snapped.

"How do I help you remember?" I studied the ribbons around him. All were agitated, though one in particular had ragged edges along one side. I had seen the little-me of twelve years ago smooth out Herakles ragged, discolored Franken-ribbons.

I stretched out a hand the way I saw myself do it twelve years ago and began tracing the edge of the ribbon with my finger, trying to smooth it out. Just when I was about to give up and flush with embarra.s.sment about swiping at random things no one else could see, the edges folded. One by one, the ridges disappeared.

Adonis shuddered. His eyes were closed.

"Did that do anything?" I asked awkwardly. "If you didn't feel anything then never mind. If you remember falling ..."

"I dropped you." The hoa.r.s.e whisper carried a note of pain. "We were both falling."

My heart leapt. "Yes! You went through the roof and Herakles caught me."

His head flew up. "Herakles threw the javelin." By the flare of fire in his eyes, he wasn't going to be content to imprison Herakles next time they met.

"Yeah. We need to get past that part," I suggested. Although, if it's true Herakles killed my parents ... It wasn't the right time. Not until I was certain Adonis wasn't about to try to kill me. "You remember me. You know why you can't kill me?"

A guarded smile tugged up the side of his lips. "You love me."

I flushed. "No. Baby Alessandra did. I think ... I think we might one day get along, so long as you don't decide to kill me."

He held my gaze, amused yet still tense.

"And, for the record, she loved the gargoyle version of you. She never met this you," I added self-consciously, hating my blush and fl.u.s.tered disclaimer.

"Grotesque. Gargoyles have water spouts." He stood as he spoke. I did as well and resisted the urge to put more s.p.a.ce between us.

"Adonis ... Mismatch ... whatever you want to be called. Are you going to force me to fight you or not?" I asked. "Because I ... I can't live with something happening to you." These were dangerous words born of emotion, but I couldn't get the image of him falling, bleeding, out of my mind.

He was holding his head again. "You're older." He faced me. "I forgot how quickly humans age."

"I have no idea what to say to that. You didn't age much at all."

"I'm only human half a day."

"Right. Anyway ... about this." I gestured towards the table. "The trial."

He c.o.c.ked his head to the side, as if listening. I tried to hear what he did with no success.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Either I fight you or we're both in trouble."

"Trouble doesn't sound so bad." Even as I said it, I inched towards the table.

His gaze settled on me. I had a feeling he was trying to reconcile a bunch of new information, freed memories, before he revealed his intention. I wanted to empathize after the experience I still couldn't wrap my head around, but my greatest concern was surviving.

"It's the kind of trouble we may not escape." He strode to the table and picked up two more knives. "The Supreme Priest is furious."

"We," I repeated, my heart accelerating. "So ... we're a we."

He glanced at me before tossing over two knives.

Catching them, I almost shouted with relief. Thank the G.o.ds. I wasn't going to be forced into a battle with him this day, and I'd managed to defer it without shedding a drop of blood.

Adonis approached once more, this time holding out a third knife. Gazing up at him, I accepted it.

"We're, like, BFFs now?" I asked skeptically.

"I do not understand everything yet," he replied. "But I remember you. I remember you giving me life." He was quiet for a moment. I sensed turmoil though he displayed none of it. "I remember swearing to protect you."

"I can take care of myself," I objected softly.

"Not against me."

The truth scared me.

"If I refuse to face you, I cede the trial. You will triumph by default."

"I'm okay with that," I said.

He bowed his head once, and a thrill rippled through me. I'd pa.s.sed my first trial, even if by accident.

I had the sense of gravity shifting, of the world around me changing rapidly enough to make my stomach turn. Rather than move, I gazed up at Adonis, once more mesmerized by his gaze and the sense of connectedness between us. And ... more than a little worried he meant to betray or otherwise feed me to his boss at some point.

The sensations ceased and were replaced by a different sound: the roaring of a crowd. Blood and sweat were in the air. The ground beneath our feet turned from concrete to dirt.

"What's happening?" We were at the center of a crude arena, surrounded by an audience on bleachers that stretched twenty meters upward. The shape, scents and ceiling overhead gave away our location as being one of the seedy, criminal underground fighting rings, the type Niko probably frequented.

"My master is displeased."

"Did you do this?" I breathed.

"No. This is where he sends me to punish me."

I stared at him. "You work for a man who sends you to a death match when you mess up?"

"You're weak on your left," Adonis said and shifted to that side of me.

"You're going to ... defend me on that side or kill me?" I asked.

"Swords." His gaze was on a weapons display at the side of the arena. Without answering me, he trotted towards it and withdrew two short swords, twirling them to test them.

I watched. It made sense to know how to use a knife in this day and age, but a sword? He was deftly checking their balance, maneuvering them with his normal fleeting agility and running quickly through a few weapons forms. Satisfied, he returned, pausing to gaze at me. I saw the flicker of confusion, the only indication he was about as clear about us as I was.