Jake, Son of Zeus - 20 Chapter Nineteen

Jake had never been in a sadder, more terrifying place. The man who lived here must be lonely. There was nothing that suggested home—no decorations or bed or luxury of any kind. There was a low wooden stool and a low table out of the way of the forge, but other than that, it was a comfortless hole.

But Jake’s heart was beating a Russian folk song beat because this wasn’t just anyone’s hole. This was Hephaestus’s hole, and Jake could see the tools on the blacksmith’s bench. The tongs were as long as thick as Jake’s unsteady legs. Hephaestus’s gloves were bigger than dinner plates.

Jake found a wall and leaned against it. Why was he doing this? What kind of crazy man would screw with the gods? And Hephaestus in particular? None of them was exactly stable, but this one once trapped his own mother with a jeweled throne. This one once hit Zeus in the head with an axe. No sane man would sneak into this guy’s house.

He was descending into genuine panic now. More than ever before, Jake wished he had something, some power from the gods to help him play this stupid, dangerous trick. Even a little Cowardly Lion courage would better than nothing. Even shoes.

But his mind was full of the quiet one’s lifeless eyes and Atta’s confirmation of what he’d thought he’d already accepted.

Jake sank to the floor. What the hell was he doing here? What was he doing?

Then, he thought of Lily. He had been sick with anxiety the day she was born, and he hadn’t even known why. He wasn’t afraid for Rachel’s life or for Lily’s, but maybe it was the idea of being a dad, of everything being different, of taking on a new world that had scared him so severely. And it turned out to be the start of the most wonderful time of his life. Those days were good days for his marriage, too. He got up to take care of Lily even when it was Rachel’s turn, and the instant he returned from work, he picked her up and took her to the nursery and read her stories and made her stuffed giraffe dance for her. Rachel thought he was wonderful to take on so much of the parenting duties, to give her the rest she needed, and to take care of the baby after a long day of work on so little sleep, but as much as he appreciated her appreciation, he never did those things for Rachel. He wanted every moment he could steal with Lily. He wanted to watch her expressions change. He wanted to see every new thing, every new advancement, every new step on the ladder to adulthood. Lily’s teenage years, the years when she would surely be ashamed to claim him as her father and would scoff at the idea of an afternoon at the zoo with him, hung over Jake like a leaden cloud. From the day she was born, he wanted every second to cherish his daughter.

Lily. That’s why a crazy man would steal the blacksmith god’s hammer. That was a world enough of reasons.

Jake hyperventilated for a few more minutes, then stood.

The three foot long hammer was resting against the anvil closest to the fire. Jake found that he couldn’t exactly lift it, but he could hold onto it, and he hoped that was all he needed to do. He heard heavy, bearlike footsteps somewhere beyond the walls as he wrapped his hands around the small tree trunk of a handle. Whatever composure he’d retained abandoned him. Jake held on to the hammer’s handle to keep the handle and himself from tipping over, then he clicked his heels together and said, “There’s no place like home.”

Jake tumbled onto the shag carpeted living room of his 3rd Street apartment with a sigh of relief. Then Hephaestus’s hammer landed on his little toe. He screamed like a siren. E. E. pelted out of the bathroom in a towel. He managed to tilt the hammer far enough for Jake to pull his squashed toe out from under it, and Jake lay back on the carpet, sure that when he pulled off his sock, his toe was going to come off, too.

“What the hell is that?” E. E. asked as he went to his room to get dressed.

“How much Greek mythology do you know?” Jake called after him. He resisted the need to whimper, but remained flat on his back until the exploding spots of color faded from his vision.

“More since I met you than I knew before,” E. E. said, his voice muffled. Metal hangers clinked in his closet.

“It’s Hephaestus’s hammer.”

E. E. emerged from his room wide-eyed and fell onto the couch. “The blacksmith god, right? Man, he’s going to kill you.”

Jake filled E. E. in on his second visit to the Fates and everything that followed, skipping over his little panic attack on Hephaestus’s floor.

When he finished, E. E. said, “So now what?”

“I don’t know. Wait, I guess.”

“You know I think you’re crazy, right?”

Jake pushed himself up into a sitting position and stared at his bloody sock. “Yeah.”

“I just—” E. E. paused. “I just wonder…what difference this is supposed to make.”

“I told you. I need the Council to kick me out of the immortal world. Then, the centaurs and nymphs and gods and pets of the gods will leave me alone. I won’t be a part of their world anymore.”

“So you’re going through all of this for…peace and quiet?”

“And—”

“And for Rachel and Lily, right?”

“Right,” Jake said, but he said it so quietly that E. E. didn’t say anything else. Jake knew what E. E. was getting at. Jake was risking an awful lot, enduring an awful lot, for a woman who had kicked him out and a child who, well, a child who would probably love to find pixies in her swingset. As for the peace and quiet….

“Peace and quiet would be nice,” Jake said.

E. E. looked doubtful, but Jake had already won this argument, and he watched E. E.’s doubt change to a desire to start the argument again, but that was replaced by acceptance and a “whatever” shrug.

“You should never have made that horcrux,” E. E. said, and left the room chuckling.