Page 20 of Apollo

“I’m very grateful for your dedication, Captain. And before you think of saying it”—she flung up a hand, fingers determinedly spread—“this isn’t just about ‘doing your duty’. That goes for all of you.” She went on, during a round of nods for the crows on the other perches, “This extra request from Apollo couldn’t have been an easy burden to accept, on top of the ongoing hunt for Nao Ito. But my sister . . . she’s unique in a lot of ways, okay? Some of them are more complicated than others.”

Since she took care with the description, thinking over every word like a White House press release, she allowed herself another second for a scrupulous sigh. And then: “Needless to say, every passing minute is going to be harder for her.”

And me.

There was the part she nearly didn’t add, even silently. But she thanked herself for taking the risk as soon as she looked back up. Yet this time, not at Kaw.

Was Apollo’s hearing good enough to penetrate to her thoughts? It felt exactly that way as he continued the bond of their stares, his lagoon greens gaining depths she didn’t expect or know what to do with.

How could he be such a cocky douche to Kaw one second but then peer over like he felt every aching inch of her heart the next? Was every deity from his mountain this gratingly confusing? And why was she so furious about not knowing that answer? And how did the feeling get doubled solely from the man’s kingly step forward, an authoritative lever now raising his head?

“My pistoi. You heard the woman. As the mortals love to say, time is of the essence. The sooner you can locate Eugenia Steed, the better. She’s to be considered an urgent and special asset.”

Well, goodbye furious. With the mini motivation speech, one that would take most human commanders an hour or five to convey, the maddening Olympian converted her anger into awe and her stare into a gawk. Was the muted light over their heads suddenly brightening, or had the top of his blond head grown an actual halo?

No way was she waiting for fate to get to those answers.

After a small but sharp shake of her head, she opened her stance to address him and the corvid contingent seemingly nodding at his mandate.

“What he said,” she murmured, thumbing into the god’s chest. “At least, I think. If pistoi translates to something like dickheads, I reserve the right to change my—”

Apollo’s chuckle matched the cadence of the baritone bird laughter in her head. “It means trusted ones,” he offered, and before Wen could question his authenticity, the crow to Kaw’s immediate right spoke up. His tobacco smoke tone scraped the edges of her mind at a joking cadence.

Oh, yeah. That’s us. Trusty fuckers. But also crusty. Sometimes a bit musty. But always so robusty.

Kaw snapped in his buddy’s direction, beak parting on a harsh squawk before adding more diplomatic notes. Still not ready for your hip-hop audition, pal. But quitters never win and winners never publicly practice their riffs, yeah? Though as long as we’re on that subject . . . He swung himself back around, fixing both his round black eyes back on Wen. Can you lay out the fast and hot infoglut about your sister here? Just the main plot points. Vitals, visuals, allergies, and any other pertinent provoke-ables? What do we need to know?

“What I just told you,” she supplied before he replaced his spent breath with another. “She’s probably already jumping out of her skin by now, so that’s the first impression you’ll get if Ito’s goons don’t drug her up first.” No matter how rough the bile in her throat along with that assertion, she forced all of it out. “If they have already gotten generous with the sedation, then you’re looking for someone who looks similar to me.”

Ah! Easy. And breezy. A beauty but a cutie, in skin just as goodie. Errrr, tutti-frutti?

“Quil.” Apollo’s interception was like steel tines on the air.

The scruffy bird to the right sent an audible scrick in place of a mental huh?

“Shut up.”

So, she looks like you. Kaw once more, swaying his head in a corvid version of a nod. Same hair? Height? Build?

“Generally,” Wen filled in. “Her hair’s in the same color family, though a little lighter and longer, with the same stupid curls.” With half of a weak smile, she gestured toward the riotous dark waves framing her face. Some of them were still dusted with dry blood, and her motion knocked it loose. She hardly noticed. “Her physical proportions are the same, though I don’t know how she’ll be dressed. I’m positive Ito had her grabbed on the way home from work, but that was weeks ago. I doubt even the clan shatei would put up with the smell of melted gelato and downtown bus sweat for more than a few days. But . . . that’s not the most important stuff.”

During her purposeful pause, Kaw nodded in the other direction. “Okay. Hit us. We’re listening.”

She believed him. She didn’t know why, but by this point, she truly did. “Genny . . . she’s not very good with being enclosed for long.”

But how to explicate a line like that? How to properly sharpen the point about Genny, who was more pastel crayons than anything off the knife’s edge? She had to try. Hard.

“When she feels out of control,” she went on, “which is more often the norm than not, she tries like hell to compensate for the imbalance . . . ”

With behaviors that might appear like overdoing it.

No reaction felt right except the birdlike bounce of her own head, jerking her stare up at the bird who’d filled in her statement as if he’d initiated the entire point.

For a few seconds, a new gawk was all she could manage. At last, she managed a stunned stammer. “Exactly. H-How do you know that?”

She hated the wobble in her tone as much as the next recognition. Oh yes, here she was, not just conversing with the damn crow but now having to admit she was glad about the experience. That her judgment had been wrong. That a bird had given her more compassion about Genny than most people did.

You think humans have exclusive rights to their ‘spectrum’, Ms. Steed?