Good Things: An Urban Fantasy Anthology

by Mia Darien

  The goddess was thinking before she continued speaking.

  Then she said, “But it is an honor to give you back to this world. Much good may you do here. And I would desire greatly that more men had hearts like yours. Good night…Scott.”

  And Nyx was gone.

  Scott spent the night researching the Goddess Nyx.

  One website said that Homer called her a “subduer of gods and men…Zeus himself stood in awe of her.” And that the Keres were just some of her many children.

  * * *

  (The Night Before)

  Amanda was trembling with her knees drawn to her chin. Every shadow was a threat. A lurking man of Greek appearance was in one corner. The ghost of her would-be love was in another.

  She pushed herself off the bed and went to her kitchen to fix some tea. Though every space seemed a potential harbor of spirits, she willed herself to make a brew.

  Morpheus’s haunting continued. He could use the voice of her love.

  “You’re so beautiful. God, you’re beautiful. I can’t believe you are going to be mine…”

  The whispered words hurt. Morpheus was cruel. Before her love could even say hello, before their lips could even meet, then why show him to her?

  “Leave me… Leave me… Leave me,” Amanda said through her teeth.

  The whispering stopped.

  A fragrance hit her nose. Floral but not too sweet. Enticing fruit. It made her think of the word ambrosia.

  A slight tingling happened under her skin. Even through this, Amber continued to remove the tea bag and pour in the milk. As though someone shouted for her, she went back into her bedroom. She placed the hot drink on the sideboard and lay down.

  There were fingers threading through her hair, nails running down her scalp. It wasn’t like the heavy sedation that had attacked her before once the night lady left.

  “Daughter, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to see you. But now it appears you have attracted a primordial one.”

  Mother?

  Amanda had always dreamed of her mother being gorgeous, but this was beyond anything she could have imagined. The warm colors lit up her shadowy room. The lady was all soft textures and comfort. Tawny, golden, and ruby-hued.

  “I love what you do, by the way. Weddings.” Aphrodite’s hazel eyes glowed with pride, then her supposed mother’s voice changed when she looked to the corners of Amanda’s room.

  “You. Show yourself, Oneiroi leader.”

  The one called Morpheus emerged.

  “Stunning Aphrodite. Whatever can I do for you?” Morpheus spoke in playful tones.

  “I would know why you play a cruel trick on my daughter. Is it not enough that she suffers? That jealous Hephaestos marked and called the Keres to murder her father as well the male she was destined to love?”

  Morpheus gave Aphrodite a closed mouth smile.

  The Oneiroi leader remained silent.

  So she spoke again.

  “How goes never being able to feel touch, Morpheus? How goes your loneliness? Do you know I could make beautiful women worship you, love you with an intensity that would rival that of the greatest known physical encounters? The greatest pleasures begin in the mind. Do they not? I’ve always valued you, Morpheus. But I must demand to know what you are doing here, what part you are playing.”

  Morpheus spoke, “Beautiful Aphrodite, you flatter me. Hephaestos, though he can come up with the greatest instruments of destruction, summoned the Keres to murder one of your lovers, the father of this child. And in a continuation of his wrathful jealousy, rivaling even Hera, he cursed the potential loves of your daughter. To choke the happiness out of those in your line. So much like great Ares was her father, the Fire God’s envy extended into a summoning not of weaponry or tricks, but of the violent death spirits themselves.”

  Amanda lay listening, all the while the goddess Aphrodite’s hand lay protectively on her back.

  “Aren’t you and Ares…” Amanda began, questioning Aphrodite’s, her mother’s, history.

  And the Love Goddess’s voice came out, “Ares is who I would have chosen once upon a time. That all happened long before you were born. Hephaestos sought to best Ares with cleverness. Existence is cruel to us as well.”

  Then Amanda said, “And the one who you picked for me to love is dead.” She knew it. Morpheus had played the part of the ghost of her would-be love.

  Aphrodite stood and began to pace. She flung her hands in the air, wringing her delicate fingers together. Her legs revealed themselves between the floating slits of her long red gown. Her flesh was shining and glorious.

  Despair rang out in her voice.

  “I tried not to mark him in any noticeably way. And any god or goddess would be able to see it. But I liked him. I couldn’t have just any person for you. You will bear my descendants! I would have this world overrun with true love. Never mind Ares and all his bloody battles! I tried not to reveal any intention to gift the man to you, but he had the call of Ares to War. And Hephaestos had to do little but call the Keres upon recognizing him. There is much machinery and metal work now in war. I…” The goddess’s eyes shone with tears as she addressed Amanda. “I loved your father, as much as a Goddess can, but I could not protect him.”

  Aphrodite released a weary sigh and sat down. “I would spare my children such pain, if I could. But I haven’t the power to prevent Hades from collecting his souls, once a life’s thread has been cut. Only a truly ancient primordial could have such sway. To erase the grave and rebuild living futures. Tell me, Morpheus, is Nyx capable of this?”

  The God of Dreams’ whisper carried through Amanda’s flat. “Dawn approaches. You underestimate powerful Nyx. Hades, Ares, Hephaestos, and Zeus combined could not deter the dark daughter of Khaos. He lives life anew, your dearest love. His name I will give you in a dream. Forgive my trickery, dear Amanda.”

  Then, Morpheus’ voice raised slightly, to a polite, more business-like tone, when he addressed Aphrodite.

  “Love and desire are common place in the minds of mortals, dearest Aphrodite. I have made use of such things as I lay out the dreams of sleeping mortals. I mean no harm…not really.”

  Again his mouth curved upwards. He bowed and disappeared.

  Amanda turned to her mother. “I can’t tell if he is good or bad.”

  Aphrodite smiled and reached out to touch the side of Amanda’s face. “He flows in and out of many a mortal’s subconscious. He knows the deepest origins of your thoughts and desires. He has to perform for the purposes of good as well as evil. Simply because both exist within all of us.”

  Amanda’s mother adjusted herself. The bangles on Aphrodite’s wrists and ankles made a tinkling sound, like tiny sweet bells. “I don’t think you need to worry now. I will speak to dark Nyx. For now, you are free to sleep. Sleep, my daughter.”

  Amanda closed her eyes. The tinkling noise was just beginning to fade as her mother’s soft lips rested themselves on her forehead.

  Perhaps all this has been a dream, Amanda thought, beginning to drift off. The bells infused into her blood, bringing tingles just behind her scalp.

  Before her eyes was a man with cropped light brown hair that was still wet. His body rested on ebony cotton sheets. She could hear the fabric rustling as he adjusted himself. She could hear his heartbeat.

  It’s him. It’s really him.

  Amanda smiled in her sleep, turned over, and whispered a name.

  “Scott...”

  * * *

  (Sunset, Two Evenings Later)

  Scott had woken late and gone for a run. His feet hit the canal path near his house in the old mill town. The calm brown waters were to his left, a tall moss coated wall to his right. Dirt and greenery scents mingled with cooking smells coming from one of the pubs he passed. After passing under the arch of a bridge, he went home.

  After showering, he made his way to the train station to go into Manchester. The familiar walk would never be the same. Tipsy giggles and drunken chuckl
es accompanied the clack-clack-clack of heels and dress shoes on paved streets. He noticed a wedding party or two gathered in large glass and brick structures.

  Places that once were factories.

  Wine glasses, satin ribbons, and silver cutlery adorned the tables and chairs inside. Objects handled absently in the libation-swilling guests. Pretty, flushed mums in frocks and high shoes held champagne glasses and cooed at their new babies. Couples lounged together, entwining fingers and leaning coifed heads on their lover’s shoulders.

  June. A season for weddings.

  It was a far cry from the baked earth interspersed with ancient mountains, irrigated fields of wheat, vegetables or opium. A hideous yet beautiful place. War-torn ground, once soaked by his own blood. A place of poverty and greed. And monsters.

  Instinct took him to St. Ann’s Square.

  There will probably be another bloody wedding there.

  How many times will I have to come here? Will Nyx just come and take me? Will I even have a choice?

  It was late, yet sunset’s last heated layers lingered in the summer sky. He sat down on a familiar bench. It wasn’t long before the moon and stars dominated the heavens above. He looked up at the full milky shining circle.

  People continued to titter and stroll around him. Then, wisps of cloud floated past the moon. Like ebony smoke. It swirled, threatening the bright orb of the moon.

  Scott swallowed and looked down. He searched the vicinity for the raven-haired goddess in her mortal form.

  Then there was a sound of a lone pair of high heels. A lush, fruity fragrance filled the air. Sweet and edible. It tantalized, but didn’t infiltrate his senses. Not like the smokey, heady assault of Nyx.

  He turned in the direction of it. There, wearing a red pencil skirt accompanied by a floaty white blouse with a v-neck, was…her.

  She had the look of the woman in the magazine, yet Scott was aware that it wasn’t exactly her.

  Despite it being night, he could gather the blush in her cheeks and the ruby tint of her open lips. Large hazel eyes trained on him in astonishment. She came and sat down beside him. He could smell the difference between her perfume and whatever divine product she washed her hair with. Her gaze darted between his hands and the place where his shoulder met his neck.

  “Hiya,” he said, stupidly.

  “Hello.” She smiled then swallowed and he could hear her breath. Scott’s stomach summersaulted. The air became hot. Even in summer, heat waves like this didn’t happen often. Nobody needed AC in Northwest England.

  “What’s your name then?”

  “Amanda.”

  “Are you out tonight?”

  “I’m working… Are you alright? You seem a bit…pale. Can I do anything for you?” she replied. To his ears, her words sounded like an enticement. The way he was feeling, anything she said would sound like an enticement. Like she sought to lure him somewhere rather private. Oh god… Oh dear. She’s not a…

  Scott frantically sought some query he could make that was neither insulting nor condescending.

  He was met with a friendly laugh.

  “Weddings. I plan weddings,” she said, covering her mouth and trying not to giggle.

  “Oh. Right. Right. Got ya.”

  “What’s your name then?” she asked.

  “Scott. I’m called Scott.”

  “Scott…” The blush left her cheeks.

  “Are you alright, Amanda? Now you’ve gone pale. You…you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Have I? I mean… Do I?” The blush returned to her cheeks.

  “Not anymore,” he said and reached for her hand.

  Amanda’s mouth opened in recognition of his palm’s texture. Words deserted her in awareness of the pressure of his fingers.

  The city’s night life kicked into full effect around them.

  * * *

  Nyx lay on her back in the sand. The cold sea lapped near her but didn’t touch her bare toes. Her hands were beside her ears. Her fingers moved, making lazy paths in the sand. Meanwhile above her, tendrils of inky smoke curved in front of the pure, full moon.

  The sea rolled against the jagged rocks on either side of the smooth beach.

  Beside her, the crimson-adorned Aphrodite lounged, parallel to the surf. She lay on her side, the silky curve of her hip a beacon of womanhood on the otherwise murky beach. Pitch-cloaked Nyx was near invisible, save for her dusky feet and hands.

  “You could have had him, you know. Forced his hand. I’ve no doubt you could have bent him to your will,” Aphrodite said to Nyx, her smooth elbow pressing in the sand. Nyx’s shadows caressed the shining, moonlit flesh exposed above Aphrodite’s red gown.

  “That would make me no better than the stupidest of men. Those false mortals who bully and devise plans to achieve one-sided, unnatural happiness,” Nyx replied.

  Aphrodite was silent for a few moments, lost in thought. No longer able to keep them to herself she said, “I know what you would ask of me, Nyx, but I cannot make the Sea God love you in the way you want. What you ask is obsession. It borders too close to violence. I can make men and gods love and I can summon the lustiest of urges, but I cannot enforce madness. If you want a cult again, I’m sure you could encourage some group of mortals. You can do what you want, Nyx. But I cannot create this…this mad devotion dressed as love you want.”

  “I know,” Nyx whispered, still twirling her fingers in the sand, toying with light’s access, and making shadows in the sky.

  “Then why did you bother? Such a great deed. How do I repay you? You did not have to. You did not have to care. You could have even dragged him to Hades, finished the work of your insane daughters.”

  “You forget how old I am, dear beauty. But you obviously see the depths of my needs. It pains me to admit you are correct. Perhaps love is…not possible for me.” There was a pause. Silence interspersed with waves.

  Then, the Night Goddess finally said, “But kindness is. That I can do.”

  And with that, Nyx disappeared into her realm, dragging the inky sky behind her to meet the dawn, Hemera, in an ancient, friendly greeting.

  As stated in the Foreword, all of the money that would go to the authors will be given to the Random Acts Organization. This charity holds a mission that is close to our hearts, and we hope that it will be close to yours as well once you know more. With the blessing of their fundraising department, we have presented you with these ten stories that we hope you enjoyed.

  Below is information taken from their website (www.randomacts.org) so you can know more about the.

  What is the Random Acts Organization?

  Random Acts is a non-profit organization that is aiming to conquer the world, one random act of kindness at a time. We’re dedicated to funding and inspiring acts of kindness around the world.

  Look around; there are simple ways to demonstrate kindness on a daily basis. A stranger needs help carrying their groceries. A homebound neighbor could use some cheering up. These opportunities crop up every day and most of us are so busy that we miss them. All you have to do is pay attention and offer kindness whenever, wherever you can.

  How did it begin?

  On December 3, 2009, Misha Collins, the angel Castiel on The CW’s Supernatural, used Twitter to ask his followers (affectionately known as his “minions”) to come up with ideas for a “minion stimulus” project. The goal was to obtain US government stimulus money (funding to aid endeavors to stop an economic recession) for non-profit initiatives.

  The pursuit of government funding was soon abandoned in favor of morphing into a privately organized charity, formerly known as MinionStimulus. After visiting the fledgling website, Misha appointed Lisa Walker as the Director of Charitable Affairs and provided her with some initial direction. Together, Misha and Lisa began marshaling the forces of good at their disposal.

  Since that auspicious beginning, our organization has gone through several changes, including our name. We’ve come a long way and now have non-pr
ofit status through our parent organization, The Art Department, Inc. In late 2011, Lisa stepped down, and we welcomed Cinde Monsam as our new Director.

  With Misha and Cinde’s direction and leadership, and the daily attention of an extraordinary administrative team, we have an organization poised to conquer the world, one random act of kindness at a time.

  What is their mission?

  At Random Acts, it’s our mission to conquer the world one random act of kindness at a time. We are here to inspire acts of kindness around the world both big and small. We provide a vast network of caring people with the encouragement and support they need to change lives for the better.

  Every individual can be a catalyst for positive change in the world and in their own life.

  Everyone deserves to be treated with respect.

  Each person can make a positive impact within their social network and community.

  Kindness breeds kindness.

  Being kind is fun!

  A. STAR (DIANTHA JONES)

  Diantha Jones loves writing fantasy books filled with adventure, romance, and magic. She’s the author of the Oracle of Delphi series, the Mythos series, and the Djinn Order series (as A. Star). When she isn’t writing or working, she is reading or being hypnotized by Netflix. She is a serious night-owl and while everyone else is grinning in the warmth and sunlight, she’s hoping for gloominess and rain. Yeah, she’s weird like that.

  You can find her at her website, on Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads, and Pinterest.

  ANGELA B. CHRYSLER

  Angela B. Chrysler is a writer, logician, philosopher, and die-hard nerd who studies theology, historical linguistics, music composition, and medieval European history in New York with a dry sense of humor and an unusual sense of sarcasm. She lives in a garden with her family and cats.

  In 2014, Ms. Chrysler founded Brain to Books: the marketing promotional engine and online Encyclopedia for authors. A passionate gardener and incurable cat lover, Ms. Chrysler spends her days drinking coffee and writing beside a volume of Edgar Allan Poe who strongly influences her style to this day. When Ms. Chrysler is not writing, she enables her addictions to all things nerdy, and reads everything she can get her hands on no matter the genre. Occasionally, she finds time to mother her three children and debate with her life-long friend who she eventually married. Her writing is often compared to Tad Williams. Her influences are Edgar Allan Poe, The Phantom of the Opera, and Frankenstein.