Broken God Read Online Free PDF

threaded
through with silver . A silver pendent hangs at her throat, and a feral smile plays
along her lips. With her hair cut brutally short and her boots, she looks ready
to fuck a rock star—or to be one. She fairly reeks of sex.
    Amusing, since
she’s a virgin.
    There are a few
things that are unchanging. I rule the sun. She rules the moon. I deal death as
easily as I heal. She hunts the things that I kill.
    I fuck the world.
And she is the eternal virgin.
    She’s almost
vibrating with energy, a smile bright on her lips. I shiver, my power cracking
through me.
    Bloody hands, bloody lips, bloody jeans, so much blood.
    “Successful hunt,”
I murmur because in every shattered possibility , there is only one outcome to hunting with my sister tonight.
    I dress, as always
with my sister, to compliment her. Black leather pants, a loose , black button - down left more
unbuttoned than not, and muscle shirt under it, so bright it almost gleams in the moonlight.
    It was stronger
than normal, and I am pretty sure Artie is having a hard time controlling her
powers tonight as well.
    I slid a ring onto
my finger, a sunburst worked into the gold band, simple and old. And then I
smile at her. “Lead the way, lady hunter.”

 
    This is how it
works.
    Artemis is goddess
of the moon and the hearth and the hunt. I’ve never known her to not be able to
hunt something down, when she really puts her mind to it. When I first fell
from Olympus, I took my favorite cousin. Hermes had no use for the gods and
their petty games.
    But Hades didn’t
want to let the messenger god go. He was the only one of us with power slight
enough that he wouldn’t threaten my uncle and who didn’t flinch at the sight of
Hades’ domain or his big fucking dog.
    With Hermes missing
and Hades pissed because of it, he called on Artemis to find him.
    It took her three
weeks.
    Hermes was dragged
back to Olympus by his winged slippers, cursing the whole time that my twin was
a whore and a witch and a fucking nuisance.
    I think she’s even
forgiven him for all those insults, except the whore one.
    She loops her arm
through mine and leans her head against my shoulder. “What are we hunting
tonight, brother?”
    “Killers,” I
whisper. Guilt rises like a thick vine, threatening to choke me as I let her
study me and then her smile turns cunning and cruel and she nods. Looks at the
crowd.
    “A club, then,” she
murmurs. “Can you control—”
    “I’m fine,” I snap
and she arches an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. Instead she leads us through the
streets to her car, a sleek , gray thing that growls like her hounds
did, so long ago and she shrugs when I give her a look. “I like it. Some of us
don’t ride in sun chariots, brother.”
    “I haven’t done
that since Troy!” I protest, and she laughs, sliding into the car with the
sound of moonbeams and silver.
    The club we find is
perfect. There is a DJ, spinning out music and cutting it together to make
something different, something that pounds through my veins and demands I dance, and
because I am a whore for good music, I do.
    I abandon my
sister, as she prowls the crowd, searching for killers that I will kill, and I….
I give myself over to my first love.
    Sunlight and music
and poetry.
    Prophecy and
visions.
    Death and
pestilence.
    I wish,
desperately, that I could be god of one without the others. If that were true,
I would always deal out music and poetry, and revel in the sunshine.
    The problem isn’t that.
    It’s everything
else.
    With the beat pounding
into me, I can remember Iris. How her heart had pounded, but her eyes were
fearless and questioning. How her fingers had twisted around mine as I held her
still and the world shattered around us.
    I wonder what Del
would think of her? Would she laugh and call me mad for wanting her? Would she
smile with gentle approval and breathe a sigh of relief because finally she
could lay down her curse?
    Pass it on to
another.
    Del did that,
twice. In all