Darkly Delicate

five | dead kids

Aphrodite 

Last night, we arrived in Spain. 

The villa given to us is large, overlooking the sea. The water turns in the ocean, almost resembling the wave of a person's hand. 

Athena and I opted to have a weekend-long sleepover by sharing the biggest room on the south side of the villa, with the view of the cliff the home is sitting on. 

"Rory," Athena exclaims open entering the bedroom. I look up, putting down the nail polish and flicking my wrist to dry my freshly-coated nails. "Guess where we're going!" 

I raise an eyebrow. Athena rarely obtains good ideas— well, fun ideas, but we always end up in trouble after a noteworthy adrenaline high. 

"Tell me," I draw out, standing from the edge of the tub. I can't help the small smirk that weaves onto my lips, making Athena's grin widen. 

She pauses dramatically, then says, "We're going to go street racing! Barcelona has the best underground roads— that's what Alastor said." 

I immediately perk up, already half-way out the bathroom door, Athena catching up to walk next to me. "Really? Let's go!" 

"One thing— our brothers are coming." 

I swivel around on my heel, my dress swirling around my legs. A hard expression creases itself into my face. "Why?" 

"My father." 

Typical. Achilles Aetos never left Athena and me wander as we pleased. He always made one of our brothers tag along with us. 

Of course, he knows we are skilled in combat and fighting. However, that fact hasn't seemed to register into his thick skull. 

In the mind of Achilles, Athena and I can easily be over-powered by muscular, brooding, ill-intentioned men. 

To keep him sound at mind, Athena and I normally just go along with it. Why waste breath when our brothers aren't particularly terrible company? 

"Fine, fine. We'll go street racing with our brothers. They won't be annoying, right?"

———

How I wish I never said that. 

The sky is dark, covered by stars that shine brightly in the sky. There are rows and rows of cars, all of which have women and men on them, half-naked. 

Everything around me rushes in energy. I can almost let myself get carried away in all of the excitement— but I have certain grim-faced reminders of reality. 

Both Athena and I are surrounded by our four tall, muscular, evil-clad brothers. Wherever we walk to, they follow. 

To be fair, Apollo and Alastor are not good at their bodyguard job. Case in point, they snicker and whisper at anything we see. 

"Do you see that man?" Apollo whispers, gobsmacked, at a sparkly purple racing helmet, worn by a 100 kilogram man. 

I burst out laughing. He even wears a tutu. The man turns around and flashes our group a sparkly, sweet smile before hopping into the racing car, and taking off. 

Athena slaps my hand lightly. "Rory! Do you know that man can have a hit-list on us? He could begin stocking our moves at every turn!"

I grin. "I hope he does. I haven't killed anyone in," I count on my fingers, "six days. I could use an outlet fairly soon." 

Atlas rolls his eyes. "You're impossible. I haven't killed in two months, and I am fairing just fine. Maybe a break is what you need." 

In return, I roll mine back at him. "You're such a prude. This is why I'm Achille's favorite." I blow a kiss at Atlas' monotone expression and Alastor's betrayed whine.