The same house where Apollo's new infant son had been born.
The queen screamed in outrage at the proclamation, knowing Apollo had betrayed his own children. They were forgotten while he forged a new race to replace them.
Calling out her personal guards, the queen sent them off to Greece, to make sure that Apollo's mistress and child were killed. She would never allow either of them to sit on her beloved throne.
"Make sure to rip them apart so that the Greeks will believe it was done by a wild animal. I want nothing to make them look to our shores for this."
But as with all acts of vengeance, this one, too, was uncovered.
Heartbroken, Apollo, without thought, cursed all of his once chosen race."A plague to all who are Apollite born. May you reap all you have sown this day. None of you shall ever live past the age of my precious Ryssa. You shall all perish painfully on the day of your twenty-seventh birthday. Because you acted as animals, you shall become them. Let you find your nourishment solely in the blood of your own kind. And never again will you be able to walk in my realm where I will see you and be forced to remember what it is that you did to betray me."
It wasn't until the curse was spoken that Apollo remembered his own son back in Delphi. A son he had foolishly damned along with the others.
For once spoken, such things can never be undone.
But more than that, he had sown the seeds for his own destruction. On his son's wedding day to Apollo's most treasured high-priestess, Apollo had entrusted his son with everything in life he valued.
"In your hands, you hold my future. Your blood is mine and it is through you and your future children that I live."
With those binding words, and in one fit of anger, Apollo had damned himself to extinction. For once his son's bloodline died, so then would Apollo and with him the sun itself.
You see, Apollo isn't just a god. He is the essence of the sun and holds in his hands the balance of the universe.
On the day Apollo dies, so dies the earth and all who dwell here.
Now the year is a.d. 2003 and there is only one Apollite child left who bears the blood of the ancient god…
Chapter 1
February 2003 St. Paul, Minnesota
"Oh, honey, major stud alert. Three o'clock."
Cassandra Peters laughed at Michelle Avery's lust-filled tone as she turned in the crowded bar to see an average-looking, dark-haired man facing the stage where their favorite local band, Twisted Hearts, played.
Swaying to the music's beat as she sipped her Long Island Iced Tea, Cassandra studied him for a minute. "He's a Milk Man," she decided after a thorough scan of his "attributes" that comprised his looks, his carriage, and his lumberjack attire.
Michelle shook her head. "No, ma'am, he's a Cracker for sure."
Cassandra smiled at their rating system, which hinged on what they wouldn't toss a man out of bed for. Milk Man meant he was attractive in an unusual way and could bring a glass of milk to bed anytime. Crackers were one step up, and Cookies were gods.
But the ultimate in masculine desirability rated a Powdered Donut. Not only was a powdered donut messy, it violated their perpetual diet mentality and begged a woman to bite into it.
To date, none of them had ever met a Powdered Donut in the flesh. Still, they were ever hopeful.
Michelle tapped Brenda and Kat on their shoulders and inconspicuously pointed to the man she was eye-balling. "Cookie?"
Kat shook her head. "Cracker."
"Definitely Cracker," Brenda confirmed.
"Oh, what do you know? You have a steady boyfriend," Michelle said to Brenda as the band finished their song and took a break. "Jeez, you guys are tough critics."
Cassandra looked back at the guy, who was talking to his buddy and drinking a longneck beer. He didn't make her heart pound, but then very few men did. Even so, he had an easy, open manner and a nice, friendly smile. She could see why Michelle liked him.
"Why would you care what we think anyway?" she asked Michelle. "If you like him, then go up and introduce yourself."
Michelle was horrified. "I can't do that."
"Why not?"Cassandra asked.
"What if he thinks I'm fat or ugly?"
Cassandra rolled her eyes. Michelle was a very thin brunette who was a far cry from ugly. "Life is short, Michelle. Too short. For all you know, he might be the man of your dreams, but if you stay back here, drooling and not acting, you'll never know."
"God," Michelle breathed, "how I envy you that live-for-today attitude. But I can't."
Cassandra grabbed her by the hand and hauled her through the crowd, over to the man. She tapped him on the shoulder. Startled, he turned around.
His eyes widened as he looked up at Cassandra. At six feet one, she was used to being a freak of nature. To his credit, the guy didn't appear offended by the fact that she was a good two inches taller than him.
He looked down at Michelle, who was a normal five feet four.
"Hi," Cassandra said, drawing his gaze back to her. "I'm taking a quick survey. Are you married?"
He frowned. "No."