After whatever the fuck had happened between Aiden and I, I’d left the library and hid out in my apartment. Alternately angry and upset while I scolded myself for being so fucking stupid. I couldn’t even rationalize what I’d seen. There was only one explanation, but it was the most ridiculous thing I could ever have imagined.

Myths were lies. Stories made up by a society who couldn’t explain what was happening to their world or their emotions. How do you explain loving someone you were never meant to love? Eros did it with his barbed shafts. Easy to blame your actions on an invisible deity. It happened every day in the modern world, but somehow it was more acceptable when couched in Christian terms.

The gods belonged in the fiction section of the library. End of story. Aiden was just… he was… “Goddamnit, Gideon, he disappeared into thin air in front of you… twice!” My shout echoed in my tiny apartment. There was a thump from the floor below me and I resisted the urge to jump up and down. I settled for stomping the length of the apartment, fuming the entire time. Who the hell did he think he was, and what the hell was with all that creepy shit he’d said? Unbelievable. Un. Believable. Was he trying to scare me with that hocus pocus act? It hadn’t worked. If anything, it just made me sad that he had chosen to shroud his life in such ridiculous lies. Did he really believe them? Did he really think he was some kind of god?

A week passed. And then another, and Aiden still didn’t have the balls to show his face in the library. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking for him. I even followed a guy walking a black dog for three blocks before I realized it wasn’t him. I didn’t even know what I’d do if I found him. Something stupid, no doubt about that.

With each day that passed I thought I’d be able to forget about him, but it was entirely the opposite, and every night I dreamed about the cold, dark library. That heavy exhaustion I’d tried to explain away as stress hadn’t gone away either, but I had work to do, and it was the best way to forget about him—at least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

On a day just like the others, I was awake before my alarm, but it was a struggle to get out of bed. I thought I’d eaten some bad risotto, or maybe I was coming down with something, but whatever it was, I felt like shit. I was tired all the time, and even the slightest whiff of cooking meat made my stomach turn over. I’ve never thrown up in public; it’s a personal point of pride. But I almost did it three times on the way to the Vallicelliana that morning.

Emilie wasn’t her usual chipper self that morning, either, and she returned my half-hearted greeting with an unexpectedly lukewarm response.

“You look like shit,” I said, knowing that I looked about the same.

“Thanks. Most people just say something like, ‘you look tired,’” she said with a wan smile.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a very good liar,” I replied. “What’s your excuse? I think I’m getting sick.”

“I don’t know,” she said with a shake of her head. “I haven’t been sleeping very well… nightmares, sleepwalking. I keep waking up in weird places.”

“I didn’t know you were a sleepwalker… that’s always creeped me out.”

“I didn’t know I was a sleepwalker either. You’d think that would be something your mom would tell you, right?”

“Definitely,” I said. My mother would have teased me about it mercilessly and if YouTube had been around when I was a kid she definitely would have posted it for the whole world to see.

“I dunno, maybe it’s a sign I should buy a ticket home. I’m running out of money... and parental patience.”

“Oh, dear,” I said with mock sincerity. “Poor lamb, time to go home and get a job.”

She sighed heavily and nodded. “Looks like it.”

I left Emilie to drown in her misery while I went through the motions of my day. Signore de Sarno was away in Torino for the better part of the week on a lecture tour, which meant I had the archive room to myself, and the freedom to zone out without fear of being discovered. But every noise I heard outside the archive room door made me wonder if it was Aiden—I imagined opening the door to see him standing there with an apology on his lips and a contrite expression on his face, but it never happened.

He may as well have been dead to me, and the dead didn’t apologize.

---

The day dragged, and I waited until the very end of my shift to take my trolley of books up to the mezzanine for re-shelving. The elevator moved even more slowly than usual, and a headache was looming behind my eyes. Every jerky motion of the infernal contraption made my stomach lurch, and I realized that I hadn’t eaten lunch. I could barely stand the smell of food, let alone the taste. It had to be that goddamn risotto. I should have known better. “Crackers for dinner,” I muttered as the elevator came to a sickening stop. I cranked the doors open and groaned when I saw that it hadn’t stopped at the floor, but a few inches above it.

I pulled the trolley out of the elevator carefully, wincing as the antique wheels crashed to the floor under the weight of the books. At least the library would be mostly empty by now so there would be no scolding and tutting from our aged patrons as I pulled the trolley over the threadbare carpets toward the stacks.  

The doors to the private meeting rooms were closed, and I tried not to think about the day I’d listened at the door while Signore de Sarno and Aiden had had their meeting. But just the memory of his rumbling voice sent shivers down my spine. I let out a furious breath and pushed the trolley faster, ignoring the squeaking wheel that gave away my presence to anyone nearby.

I started my re-shelving and did my best not to think about Aiden… our last conversation (argument) had been in front of the spiral staircase to my right… I was fooling myself; it was impossible not to think about him and how that strange cold fire had swirled in my chest when we’d kissed, and how it had overtaken me like a blistering inferno when he’d fucked me.

I kicked the trolley wheel. “Stupid.”

“Talking to yourself again.”

The voice startled me and I almost dropped the books I was balancing in my hurry to see who had spoken. That’s what he’d said to me… on more than one occasion.

“Emilie, I didn’t know you were still here.” I looked at my watch and frowned. “It’s way past your shift time, you don’t have to wait for me.”

“It’s no trouble, Gideon,” she said as she leaned against the railing. Her dark hair had been freed from its usual braids and swung in waves around her shoulders. Her skin was pale, almost sallow, in the dim light and I adjusted my glasses just a little.

“Are you okay? You weren’t looking so good when I came in this morning.”

“I’m fine,” Emilie replied softly. “In fact, I’m feeling much better. But how are you, Gideon?”

I set the book in my hand onto the shelf and shrugged. “The same level of shitty. I’m hungry, but I don’t think I can eat anything. I think I caught that flu that’s going around… it’s just biding its time.”

“The flu?” Emilie laughed softly. “Is that what you think it is?”

“What? What else could it be?” I turned around to fix her with a stare, but Emilie wasn’t leaning against the railing anymore. I looked around quickly. Where the hell had she gone?

The library was silent except for the sound of my heart beating in my ears. This was getting weird. What the hell was going on? This ancient floor creaked when a fly landed on it, how was she doing that?

“How much do you know about mythology, Gideon?” Emilie’s voice floated to me from the middle of the room, and I peered around the bookshelf to see her wandering between the map desks, turning off the little reading lamps as she went.

“Uhh… enough, I guess. Why?”

“Doesn’t being in a city as ancient as this make you think about it more? Doesn’t it make you think these things could have been real? How much easier it would have been to explain thunder and lightning as something created by a god?”

“Sure, I mean, anything is possible. We’re also really close to Vatican City, too close if you ask me. They believe the same kind of nonsense over there,” I gestured towards the holy city with a careless hand.

“The only difference is, what they believe isn’t real…” Emilie’s voice was quiet and I leaned around the bookshelf to look at her again. She was staring up at the stained glass skylight in the center of the room, not moving, just staring.

“Whatever you say, Em,” I muttered.

“All the myths say that the gods were married—husbands and wives, pledged to each other in the sight of the pantheon. It seems ridiculous doesn’t it? That immortal beings should be bound by the rules that mankind placed upon itself.” Emilie’s voice sounded strange and far away, but I kept shelving my books. The faster I finished, the faster I could leave… and forget this conversation.

“Sure… ridiculous.”

“So you agree with me, you agree that there should be different rules for gods and men…” Emilie’s face appeared at the edge of the bookshelf, startling me. I tried not to show it, but I was rattled. This was entirely too weird, and my stomach was churning again.

“I mean… if you think about it, it makes sense that the ancients made their gods in their own image… they were married, they followed certain rules. Why shouldn’t the gods? They weren’t real anyway.”

Emilie laughed, and the sound was spiteful instead of joyful and it made my skin crawl. “Is that so?” she said through her laughter. She leaned against the railing again and looked at me carefully, suddenly sober. “But the gods didn’t follow the rules, Gideon. They philandered and raped; they seduced and took things that they wanted. Women… men… whatever they pleased. Without repercussion. Zeus alone had over forty children. Forty! Do you think Hera bore all of them?”

I shook my head dumbly. “Em, I’m not sure what you’re trying to—”

“I’m trying to tell you that the gods are liars… liars who cannot be trusted to follow the rules. Simple rules, Gideon. Fidelity, honor, respect… these words mean nothing to them.”

“Okay…”

“And how many of those children were orphaned, Gideon? Do you know?”

“Orphaned? I don’t know…”

“Zeus could escape the wrath of his wife easily; he was divine, just like she was. Untouchable. But the mortals… the mortals were so much easier to deal with. Hera punished her husband in the only way that could touch him, by striking his lovers. Perhaps, she reasoned, he would learn his lesson when the things he wanted were taken away. Like a child. But he didn’t learn anything...” Emilie’s voice was changing as she spoke, and I noticed for the first time how black her eyes were; like two pools of tar.

She had pushed herself up on the railing, and her feet dangled, swinging lightly. Her heels hit the wrought iron, making a soft chime each time she moved.

“Em, you’re making me really nervous,” I said as I set down my books. I edged towards her, holding out my hand. “Come on, get down. Let’s go get some gelato; I think that’ll make my stomach stop doing cartwheels. Come on.”

Emilie reached out and grabbed my hand, and I winced as she gripped it tightly between her pale fingers. She took a shuddering breath and stared at me with those deep, black eyes. “Oh, Gideon,” she sighed. “I should have known it would be you…”

“What? I’ve always been here…”

“He’s marked you, I can feel it.” Her words were gentle, but I could see malice glittering in her eyes, and I felt a chill ripple up my spine.

“Oh, god,” I murmured.

“Yes… oh, yes. You thought you were just getting the fuck of a lifetime, didn’t you? Tall, dark, and menacing with a hint of sadism… he’s everything you’ve ever wanted, isn’t he? And you’re everything he’s ever wanted, too. You were made for him, Gideon, and you didn’t even know it.” Emilie’s grip tightened on my fingers and I heard something crack.

The ancient hardwood creaked on the floor below and I looked around in a panic, hoping someone else was there. Anyone.

“There’s no one here to rescue you, Gideon. In any case, they’ll be too late. My mother will be so very pleased that I’ve found you.” She pulled me closer, and held my face in her other hand; her fingertips dug into my cheeks and jaw as she examined me. “I can see why he likes you, I can smell defiance on you. He’ll enjoy breaking you, testing you… and you would have tested him.” She inhaled deeply and her eyes rolled back in her head. I struggled in her grip. She was insane, that much was clear, and I needed to get the hell away from her.

“Let me go! You’re fucked in the head!” I cried as I pulled away, but she held me fast. “You’re hurting me!”

“It will be over soon, Gideon,” she said. She released my face and trailed her hand down over my chest towards my stomach, and then her eyes widened and she crushed my hand once more. I cried out in pain and tried to twist out of her grip. “Already seeded… my mother will enjoy crushing the life out of you, mortal,” she hissed.

With a wild cry I pushed against her with all my strength, and the grip on my hand released as she fell over the railing, an expression of dull surprise on her beautiful alabaster face. I stumbled backwards and fell hard on the wooden floor; I lay there panting, waiting for the sound of her impact and Emilie’s cries of pain, but the sickening thud I’d been expecting never came.  

I scrambled to my feet and ran to the railing. “Emilie!” I shouted her name as I leaned over to look for her crumpled corpse, but the floor of the Sala Monumentale was bare and untarnished.

“What the fuck!”

My voice echoed around the room, but before it could die away, it was eclipsed by the sound of laughter: high, cold, and cruel. And then the rushing of whistling wings, as though a thousand ducks had taken flight inside the library. The sound beat against the windows and vibrated the floors, and I could feel the hardwood shaking beneath my feet.

I sank to my knees in disbelief as cracks began to form in the ceiling, and the sound of beating wings became the rumbling of something more… behind me, the stained glass skylight cracked and shattered, spilling colored glass over the map desks. I cried out in alarm as the bookshelves began to sway and then crash to the ground.

The last thing I saw before the roof crashed in was Emilie—but not Emilie at all. A woman with long black hair that writhed in the wind created by the beat of the falcon’s wings that had sprouted from her back. She hovered above me as my world came crashing down around my head, and her laughter filled my ears as the Biblioteca Vallicelliana crumbled. The floor trembled beneath me, shuddering and shifting. And then all I could see was darkness.