The Mythniks Saga

by Paul Neuhaus

  You know.

  As you do.

  Here’s the thing, though: the kids—Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, et al—didn’t die. At the urging of plucky little Zeus, they cut their way out of Cronus and staged a hellacious rebellion. After it was over, they threw their pops and his peeps into Tartarus.

  Medea was working to release the Titans. But why would she wanna do a damn, fool thing like that? Because there was a power vacuum at the top. Most of the Olympians had fucked off and the stage was set for a new pantheon to take charge. Or re-take charge.

  But like I told Amanda not that long ago, Medea doesn’t do anything unless there’s something in it for Medea.

  She was planning to set herself up as leader of a new breed of gods. Woe be to the unsuspecting mortals of the modern age.

  It just kept getting worse.

  Right as I was about to sound a warning to Amanda and Connie, I heard an insistent keening from above me. Hovering there was Leon and he’d followed my instructions to the letter.

  He was carrying Pan’s magic pinecone.

  Once he saw that I was looking up at him, he dropped his cargo and it fell right into my hand. I gave the little guy a thumbs-up and tightened my grip on the object.

  Ten seconds later, I was gone.

  I’ll spare you the details of my second adventure inside the pinecone. Mostly, it was just a lot of running around and gathering. Finding and convincing.

  Things were pretty much as I’d left them in the main chamber. The dragon and the dog were still rolling around tearing at each other and Medea was still locked in a magic battle with Connie and Amanda. Amanda was on her knees and blood flowed from a cut on her forehead. She was still in the thick of it, though. Shooting blue fire from her hands.

  Fortunately, Medea wasn’t aware of me. As soon as I was sure I wasn’t going to get crushed by the fighting animals, I stopped and raised Harper Adcock’s Olympic rifle to my shoulder.

  Like I told Connie, I’m not great with firearms, but the distance was short, and the gun was perfectly balanced. I pumped a round into Medea’s side.

  The sorceress turned to me, trailing spittle, her eyes wide with rage.

  But it was already too late.

  I had two small figures at my side. Two children. They both carried spears. The boy ran forward first and threw his weapon. Its flight was true, and it entered Medea’s chest and came out through her back. She was shocked. Especially when she saw who it was that’d been her undoing. When the girl stepped forward and, without hesitation, threw her own spear, Medea’s expression was almost one of acceptance.

  Even she could understand poetic justice.

  The witch fell backward against the iron grate leading to Tartarus. The key fell from her hands and her wide eyes went dead.

  Connie and Amanda turned toward myself and the children, shocked.

  The dragon disappeared. Cerberus, suffering from mostly superficial wounds, stood up and shook the water off of himself.

  Thanatos appeared to my right. He and I made eye contact briefly, then he took a step toward Medea’s children. Knowing their job was done, they moved toward him as well. As soon as he laid his hands on their shoulders, they turned back into shades and went with him willingly toward the inner gate.

  “Was that—?” Connie said, meaning the kids.

  “It was,” I replied.

  “Wow,” he replied.

  “I know.” Talk about your long-delayed closure.

  Cerberus stepped forward and sat down next to me. I scratched his flank. The Underworld was full of shades again. Amanda stood up and came over to stand next to the dog and myself. Meanwhile, Connie went to Medea’s corpse and picked the key up from the ground.

  We all went inside the secondary gate to the two thrones. We passed Thanatos on the way in. With his work complete, he’d gone back to Cigar Store Indian mode. With weary sighs, Connie and Amanda sat down. “What’s next?” I said to them.

  “What’s next? I guess we’re lord and lady of the Underworld.”

  I nodded. “I feel like it’s in good hands, if you wanna know the truth.”

  Streams of shades were going by us on both the right and the left. They were returning to their assigned neighborhoods. On the left, I saw Eurydice (her eyes downcast) and Harper Adcock. Weirdly, she still had on her nose splint even though she was a ghost. On the right, Medea’s two kids followed not too far behind Odysseus. Odysseus. Now there was a guy I would love to have talked to, but right then wasn’t the time.

  “You know,” I said, returning my attention to the new custodians. “It’s good that you both opted to take the crowns. You can have the same arrangement Hades and Persephone had. You can take turns leaving this joint and spending time on the surface.”

  Venables folded her arms in front of her chest and sat back. “It wasn’t like I had a choice. Either I became Queen of Hell or Death-y McDeath over there was gonna take my soul.”

  I smiled and called over his shoulder. “You hear that, Thanatos? You got a new nickname. Death-y McDeath.”

  We all looked at Thanatos. He didn’t turn, but he did extend his arm behind himself and flip us all the bird. We laughed.

  Connie looked first at me then at Amanda. “Listen to what Dora is saying, though, honey. You can sneak out and go shopping. You and Dora can get your hair done and look at shoes.”

  Amanda’s brow furrowed. “Hmm. I dunno...”

  Constantinides elbowed his new girlfriend and business partner. “Oh, lighten up, would you? Dora had to do some heavy improvising to get you two out of the pinecone. If I’d’ve been there, I might’ve murdered you too.”

  Venables sighed a heavy sigh and looked back at me. “Do you really promise never to murder me again?”

  “Scout’s honor,” I said, raising the three-fingered salute.

  Amanda held out her hand and I shook it.

  Epilogue - No Rest

  When I got back to the trailer, Hermes was waiting there for me. He had the pithos in his lap. “Hey! Holy shit! There you are!”

  “Here I am,” he agreed. He handed me the jug and I put it down on the desk. I plopped down next to him on the couch, exhausted. After I’d had my eyes shut for a moment, I opened them again and said, “If you’d told me everything that was gonna happen after you bailed me out of jail, I wouldn’t’ve have believed you.”

  He grinned from ear to ear. “I didn’t bail you out,” he said. “That was Medea.”

  I sat up, shocked. “She played you too?!”

  “Yeah, of course. She got me good.”

  “What happened?”

  He hesitated for a second, but then a fuck it expression crossed his face. It was an embarrassing story, but he was gonna tell it anyway. “You’re no doubt aware of my fondness for whores. I was in Vegas, doing the whale thing. High stakes Blackjack. Comped rooms, comped meals, the whole nine yards. Anyway, I’m sitting there minding my own business when in walks the classiest looking trick I’ve ever seen. We’re talking Aphrodite caliber. We got to talking, we got friendly, and she invited me out to...” He made air quotes. “’The Ranch’ for a kind of all-you-can-eat buffet. Since Zeus didn’t raise no fool, I had her in my beamer inside of ten, and we were driving out to the desert. We got to this Ranch of hers and, in the words of Motley Crue, it was girls, girls, girls. Only, after two days, I realized something was off. The girls were performing the exact same acts on me in the exact same ways. It was like they were animatronic fuck puppets. Most people would say, Who cares? Just roll with it, but it started to bother me. I guess my confusion and doubt broke the spell because next thing I knew, I was sitting naked next to some California cholla, and prairie dogs are watching me jack off. I figured it out immediately. There’s only one person I know who’s got that kind of whammy power. Medea.”

  “So, while you were engaging in ritual self-abuse somewhere near Henderson, Medea was running a scam on me and Amanda.”

  “‘Fraid so.”

  I shook my h
ead, gladder than ever Medea’s sick ass had been taken out. “How’d you get the pithos out of Medea’s bubble?”

  “Not long after your little murder suicide thing, the bubble disappeared. It must’ve had an expiration date.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Do me a favor: Don’t ever tell Amanda that. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “Mum’s the word,” he said.

  I stood and put on my Gosh, it’s getting late voice. “Well, as much as I’ve enjoyed this little adventure, I need to sleep for the next four or five days.”

  He winced. “Yeah, well, about that...”

  I stopped and looked down at him, afraid to ask what I needed to ask next. “What? What is it?”

  He looked like he really didn’t want to tell me, but there was just no getting around it. “I understand you broke the original pithos...”

  “Not to put too fine a point on it, but I didn’t so much break it as have it snipered out of my hands.”

  “And the Evils all got out, right?”

  “Yeah. They scattered to the four winds.”

  He scratched his nose. “Have you wondered why all the Evils haven’t been running rampant doing their Evil shtick?”

  I didn’t like where this was headed. “Now that you mention it...”

  “They’re being held in check.”

  “Held in check? How?”

  “By Hope. She’s still alive and she’s doing her level best to keep the Evils contained. The thing is, she can’t hold out much longer. She needs help.”

  I didn’t even stop to think. I picked up my car keys and my new pithos and headed toward the door. Then I stopped and spun. I reached back onto the desk and picked up Pan’s copy of The Great Gatsby.

  Right before I slammed the door shut behind me, Hermes said, “Hey, can I crash here for a coupla days?”

  “Sure thing,” I replied. “But no whores.”

  “No promises,” he muttered.

  “What was that?”

  “Right. Of course. No whores.”

  I went out and headed for the Firebird.

  Writers—particularly new writers—need reviews to reach a wider audience. If you could take a moment to write an honest review for Necrophiliac’s Honeymoon, I would be very grateful.

  DORA WEIR RETURNS IN DIE, BRONY, DIE

  Copyright © 2018 by Paul Neuhaus

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Die Brony Die

  “To enjoy good health, to bring true happiness to one's family, to bring peace to all, one must first discipline and control one's own mind.”—Buddha

  Prologue - Succession by Song and Sword

  Acrisius, king of Argos, declared war upon the whole of Greece and terrorized his neighbors on the peninsula for decades. Finally, Zeus could no longer ignore the prayers of the other Greek kings, so he set a plan in motion. Disguised as Acrisius, he snuck into the royal palace and impregnated Danaë, Acrisius’ wife. Zeus knew that the demigod offspring of that union would set things right in Argos.

  When he learned Danaë was pregnant with the allfather’s progeny, Acrisius became enraged and sealed his wife in an airtight chest. He then cast the chest into the sea. Under Zeus’ direction, the sea god Poseidon saw that no harm came to the vessel. Lonely and afraid, Danaë gave birth to her son Perseus while still adrift. The poor woman died in childbirth, but Perseus—who had the blood of a god flowing through his veins—survived.

  In time, fisherfolk discovered the chest, and took it up out of the water. The fisherman and his wife opened the chest to discover a healthy baby boy. Having no children of their own, they adopted Perseus as their son.

  As Perseus came to manhood, the fisherfolk could see he was not a normal boy. He could perform feats of strength and run distances far beyond mortal capacity. Still, they raised him in the simple ways of their village and taught him right from wrong. He grew up a wise and thoughtful soul.

  Finally, sick of Acrisius’ unending war on their territories, the kings of Greece turned their pleas from Zeus to Poseidon. The kings understood that Poseidon was master of the waters and had sea monsters at his command. Since Argos was a coastal city, they thought Poseidon was best-suited to end their suffering. Knowing Zeus had another plan upon a parallel track, Poseidon answered the other kings provisionally. To them he said, “On the third day of the third month, the moon will align such that it blocks out the sun. On this day of darkness, I will send the Kraken—a monster of the sea—to pull Argos into the waves.

  Poseidon’s promise to the other kings forced Zeus to swifter action. He sent portentous dreams to Perseus, his son. Dreams of Argos beset by the Kraken. He also showed the boy an image of Andromeda. Andromeda was the daughter of Cassiopeia, queen of Joppa. Joppa was one of the cities at war with Acrisius. In fact, Andromeda was a spoil of that war. Acrisius had taken her during a raid and planned to wed her on the very night of the eclipse.

  Princess Andromeda was beautiful and, seeing her in his dreams, drove Perseus to act. After a fond farewell to his adopted parents, the boy set off down the coast toward Argos. He swore to save both the princess and the city from the terrible fate awaiting them. But he was not foolish. He knew his strength alone would not suffice. He knew he was no match for the Kraken, a forty-foot monster with a hide too thick for simple spears to penetrate. If he wanted to win the day (and the girl’s hand) he would need guidance.

  Perseus knew that, not far from his village, a seer of great renown lived. Tiresias was blind, but he had a mystic sight which made up for the defect in his eyes. When he found the oracle at his hut, Perseus entreated him for help. Tiresias, being a kindly sort, put the boy at ease. He would have helped regardless, but he sensed the destiny placed upon Perseus and knew that he must do whatever he could. He took Perseus and, together, they sat underneath a great tree. The seer’s visions came to him on the song of birds, and Perseus sat while Tiresias listened to the larks sing their omens.

  When the song was over, Tiresias turned his blind eyes to Perseus. “The birds do not speak to me with directness. Their help comes in a more poetic form.”

  Perseus said he understood and was eager to hear all the oracle could share.

  Tiresias said, “The larks said two things to me. I will say them to you, but I cannot interpret them. That task falls to you.” Again, the son of Zeus nodded. “The first line is this: ‘Where the waters do not flow, the sky may be a road’. The second line is this: ‘When brine is in the blood, the singing of the sea beguiles more deeply’.”

  The fisherman’s ward was crestfallen for the words meant nothing to him. He sighed. “What am I to do now?” he said. “Must I find a second seer to untangle the skeins of the first?”

  Tiresias smiled. “I’m afraid you’d only get more of the same cryptic pronouncements. Oracles hear the song of the universe, and the song of the universe was not designed for the ears of men. Fortunately for men they have brains that think. Devious, twisty brains built for survival.”

  Perseus nodded, realizing his confusion was not Tiresias’ fault. Then, the answer to one of the riddles came to him unbidden.

  When he was a boy, his father, the fisherman, told him stories of gods, and monsters and great heroes. In one of those tales, the herds of Zeus figured prominently. High up, in a cleft between two mountain peaks (from which no river found its source), the allfather kept his horses. As befits the king of the gods, these were not earthly mounts. They were winged steeds meant to bear the Olympians into battle. What else could a line like ‘Where the waters do not flow, the sky may be a road’ be referencing? Perseus gave a little whoop of joy and told the oracle what he had intuited.

  Tiresias could not contain his delight. “Then that cleft in the mountains
must be your first destination! Ah! If only I had the strength of youth and the use of my eyes! I would give all I have for one sight of Zeus’ sacred herd! Horses without wings are nature’s noblest beasts. I can only imagine steeds that gallop amongst the clouds!”

  Perseus smiled for he’d grown fond of the seer. “If I succeed in my quest and do not die,” he said. “I will bring the horse here and you may lay hands upon it!”

  The oracle clapped the young man on the shoulder and replied, “The fisherfolk raised you well! If goodness of heart was the only barrier to your success, you’d be sure to triumph!”

  Perseus grew melancholy and said, “I fear it will take more than kindness to win the day. Farewell, seer, and wish me good fortune.”

  Tiresias did exactly that, and Perseus set forth upon his path once again. His journey to the pasturelands of the gods was long and fraught with peril but, thanks to his kind heart (and a golden bridal given to him by Athena), the young adventurer won the trust of the winged steed Pegasus. As he flew out of the cleft toward the lands below, sudden inspiration struck again. ‘When brine is in the blood, the singing of the sea beguiles more deeply’, he thought to himself. What has brine in its blood? A sea monster. Like the Kraken who was soon to visit fated Argos. What is the singing of the sea? The boy wondered further. Why does it beguile? Surely, that line must refer not to the ocean itself but to the sirens who make their home upon its shores! Their song—as my fisherman father described it—was nothing if not hypnotic! Once again, the son of Zeus had used his devious and twisty brain to solve a dire riddle. As Perseus directed his mount toward the seashore, he thought back on what his adopted sire had told him of the strange women who lure sailors to their deaths.

  The sirens did not start life as mystical creatures. They were human at first and employed as handmaidens to Persephone. When Hades, lord of the Underworld, seduced Persephone and stole her away to his haunted realm, Demeter, Persephone's mother, blamed the sirens and cursed them to the fate known best to legend. She gifted them with wondrous song and bade them lurk along the coastline to lure hapless sailors to their deaths. The sirens figure in two of Greece’s most famous tales—that of Jason and the Argonauts and that of Odysseus. In the former story, Jason took, as a member of his crew, the great musician Orpheus whom he instructed to sing as the Argo passed the sirens. Orpheus’ music was so fair, it drowned out the sirens’ song and the Argonauts passed without incident. After the time of Perseus, in Homer’s famous Odyssey, Odysseus had to sail past the sirens on his ill-fated return home from Troy. He bade all the members of his crew to stuff their ears with beeswax while he himself stayed lashed to the mast. The king of Ithaca was curious to hear the sirens’ song, so he told his sailors not to release him no matter how he begged. His crewmen did as they he commanded, and the adventurers escaped harm. However, unbeknownst to them, Demeter’s curse held a condition: the sirens must haunt the rocky coast until someone heard their song and resisted its lure. Since Odysseus heard them sing and lived to tell the tale, the sirens cast themselves into the sea and never bedeviled passing travelers again.