The Lawrence Watt-Evans Fantasy

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  A moment later he squealed in triumph and pocketed the tool. Then he stood up, braced his feet against the knob and his hands against the doorjamb, and pushed.

  The knob turned, and a moment later the door was open.

  Trixie trotted inside, into the center of the living room. There she sat down and waited until all the brown creatures had collected around her.

  Then she released her captive. It fell to the floor and moaned quietly, then sat up, dazed but unhurt, as Trixie jumped aside.

  The others surged forward and hugged their freed companion, squeaking at one another. Then they stopped and looked around.

  They looked at dust bunnies and cobwebs and cookie crumbs, at forgotten saucers and used tissues and lost coins, and in unison they said, long and low, “Oooooh!”

  And then they set to work, as Trixie curled up, purring, on the couch.

  The next morning Annie found Trixie asleep on the living room sofa. She stopped dead in her tracks and stared at the cat.

  “How’d you get in?” she demanded. She crossed to the front door and found it closed, but unlocked. She frowned, and turned back to Trixie.

  “See how upset I was about you?” she said. “I forgot to lock this last night! A burglar could have come in and killed us both.”

  Then she stopped and looked at the door again. It was quite solidly closed—but Trixie was inside.

  Had a burglar gotten in, and let Trixie in by accident? Annie looked around to see if anything was missing.

  The TV was where it should be, and the stereo…but something didn’t look right. She stared for a moment, trying to see what it was.

  Then, finally, it struck her. Everything was clean.

  Annie had never heard of burglars who dusted.

  “Did you do that?” she asked Trixie. Then she shook her head. That was silly. Cats couldn’t clean house.

  “It must’ve been elves,” she said. “Or brownies.”

  Trixie began purring. Annie understood, and she didn’t seem to mind. Living here would be all right, then. She hopped off the couch and rubbed against Annie’s leg.

  “You want breakfast?” Annie asked. “Is that it?”

  Trixie had just been expressing her pleasure at how things were working out, but food was always welcome; she ran ahead, and met Annie at the kitchen door, meowing for her food.

  Annie took a single step into the kitchen and stopped dead. In the living room the cleaning had been fairly subtle; here it was staggeringly obvious. Dishes had been washed, dried, and put away; years of soap-scum had been cleaned from the sink and faucets, and the old chrome gleamed brightly.

  “It is brownies,” she said, and this time she meant it. She looked down at Trixie. “Or Albert—did he find you somewhere, and bring you back, and clean everything to surprise me?”

  Trixie looked up at her in utter disgust at such an absurd suggestion, then meowed.

  “Oh, you want your food,” Annie said. She filled Trixie’s bowl quickly, and set it down. Then she looked around again.

  “It’s as clean as Sally’s,” she said. “I never understood how she kept it…”

  She stopped dead in mid-sentence. Her hand flew to her open mouth.

  “Sally’s helpers,” she said. “She had brownies helping her!” Her eyes widened. She looked down at Trixie again. “That’s why you ran off! You were bringing them here!” She stared at the shining-clean sink. “Are they going to stay?”

  Trixie began purring again. Annie smiled.

  “Trixie,” she said, “you are a tricksy one!”

  IN RE: NEPHELEGERETES

  “The son of a bitch just up and left me!” the blonde wailed; Benny Perelman resisted the temptation to cover his ears. Her voice wasn’t bad, but the volume was more than his tiny office could handle, and her accent was the worst of everything California had to offer, blending midwestern twang, Hispanic lilt, and that distinctive Valley Girl rhythm. “He didn’t even pretend it was anything else,” she said. “It has been a delight,’ he says, ‘nay, a myriad delights, but it’s time I returned to my wife…’” Her expression shifted abruptly to astonished fury. “I didn’t even know the bastard still had a wife!”

  Benny tried to smile sympathetically, but the resulting expression was closer to a wince. Unless there were something more to the story, this dumb broad’s dreams of collecting palimony for her six-week fling with someone else’s husband were on a par with Benny’s own hopes of winning a few million in Vegas, the chief difference being that Benny knew he was never really going to hit the big jackpot.

  There might be a chance at an out-of-court settlement, though—or less politely, a little blackmail—if the male in question was rich enough, and sufficiently desirous of keeping his reputation unsullied.

  “So what’s this guy’s name?” he asked.

  “Zeus Nephelegeretes,” she replied, somehow managing to produce the entire sesquipedalian surname without stumbling. Benny supposed she’d practiced it—he could imagine the poor bimbo standing in front of the mirror with a white dress, trying out “Mrs. Nephelegeretes” for size.

  At least Benny thought it had to be a real name—nobody would have come up with a fake like that! That would make finding the guy easier.

  She was looking at him expectantly, as if waiting for a comment. “Greek, huh?” Benny asked.

  Her expression changed to utter disdain. “Well, duh!” she said.

  “Is he rich?” Benny asked, dispensing with subtlety.

  “He’s Zeus, for heaven’s sake!”

  Benny decided not to admit his ignorance of just who this Nephelegeretes character was; he didn’t want to look stupid in front of a potential client, and he could always look the name up later.

  But it sounded like the guy was rich.

  “So tell me about it, Ms…uh…” He had already forgotten the name she had given him; he hadn’t expected the interview to get even this far.

  “Darwin,” she said. “Bambi Darwin. I told you.”

  “Of course, Ms. Darwin. So how did you and, um, Zeus…” Benny wasn’t about to attempt that last name after only hearing it once. “How did you meet?”

  “I just stepped out my door one morning and there he was, waiting for me in the driveway,” she said. “Not that I knew it was him, or anything; all I saw was a Harley. I thought someone must have left it by mistake, you know? Though I don’t see how they could have…”

  “Wait a minute,” Benny interrupted. “He was on a motorcycle? If he was still there, why’d you think someone had left…”

  “He wasn’t on a motorcycle,” Bambi interrupted right back. “He was a motorcycle. A big, beautiful Harley-Davidson, standing there in my driveway, all gleaming chrome and black leather…” She sighed.

  Benny blinked. “I don’t get you,” he said. “Was he on the Harley or not?”

  Bambi stared at him.

  “You really don’t get it, do you?” she said. “He’s Zeus. Olympian Zeus. King of the gods. That Zeus.”

  Puzzled, Benny said, “You said his name was Neffle-something.”

  “Nephelegeretes. It means ‘cloud-gathering.’ That’s what Homer called him.”

  “Homer who? Simpson?”

  “Homer the blind poet who wrote the Iliad. Jesus, how’d you ever get through law school?”

  That was a new one on Benny; he stared at Bambi Darwin, the starlet with peroxide hair and spectacular bosom, the absolute epitome of the California blonde, who was calling him dumb.

  She stared back for a moment, then sighed.

  “Okay, look,” she said. “You ever study Greek myths in school? Maybe saw Clash of the Titans, that Ray Harryhausen flick?”

  “Sure,” Benny said.

  “So, you remember Zeus, the king of the gods? Big guy, threw lightning bolts like javelins, had the hots for anyt
hing with tits?”

  Benny vaguely remembered some guy sitting around on clouds in “Clash of the Titans.” “Sure,” he said. “Who played him? This Neffle guy?”

  Bambi looked ready to strangle him.

  “No,” she said, biting off short whatever word had been about to follow the negative. “I mean the god himself.”

  Benny stared at her. It was April, but three weeks past the first, and she looked completely serious. He protested, “But those guys lived thousands of years ago! Besides, they were just myths!”

  “Gods are immortal, you bo… Mr. Perelman. A couple of thousand years is nothing to them. Believe me, I know.”

  Benny continued to stare at her, and the truth gradually penetrated.

  Ms. Bambi Darwin genuinely thought she had been boffing a god.

  This led him immediately to the conclusion that Ms. Bambi Darwin was crazy as a bedbug.

  “Anyway,” Bambi said, settling back, “if you remember the stories, Zeus used to turn himself into stuff in order to get the women he wanted. He turned into a swan to seduce Leda, and a shower of gold for Danae. For me, he turned into a Harley-Davidson.” She shrugged. “I’ve gotta admit it worked. It’s the fastest way anyone’s ever found to get between my legs.”

  Benny winced. “If we ever get to court, don’t even think of repeating that,” he said.

  She sat up angrily. “Hey, do I look…” She stopped, and the anger vanished. A bit sheepish, she said, “Well, yeah, I suppose I do look it, but just take my word for it, Mr. Perelman, I am not stupid.”

  Just nuts, Benny thought. He nodded. “Of course not,” he said.

  “So anyway,” she continued, “there was the Harley sitting in my driveway, and there wasn’t anyone else in sight, so I went over to take a look at it, and, you know, I just sort of wanted to try it out. So I climbed on, and I swear I didn’t touch the key, which was right there in the ignition but I did not touch it, and it started up, and next thing I knew I was halfway to Redondo Beach, and I figured what the hell, I’d just take a look at the ocean then head back. So I got down to the beach, to the state park, and stopped the bike and sort of settled in, looking out at the Pacific, all sparkling in the morning light—it was beautiful, you know? And the Harley was all hot, and the vibration, and everything… Anyway, I leaned forward over the handlebars—and wham, there I am sitting astride Mr. Cloud-Gatherer, with my hands in his hair and his face in my cleavage, and…well, right there on the beach—I mean, he was so hot. It was pretty clear how he got all those women in the stories.” She blushed slightly, and Benny was charmed; he hadn’t seen a woman blush in years.

  She’d presumably screwed someone for all those weeks, even if it wasn’t the King of the Gods; maybe he could get her some sort of settlement just out of sympathy.

  “So afterward I wasn’t about to say no to anything, you know?” she continued. “Except he didn’t want me to tell anyone about him, and I couldn’t help saying something to my mother—I tell her everything. But other than that I went along with whatever he wanted. He moved in to my place in Gardena, and I thought we had a pretty good thing going, and then this morning wham, he says goodbye and walks out, and I was pretty upset, but then I remembered something I’d read about where demigods come from, so I stopped by the drugstore for a home pregnancy test, just in case. I was taking precautions, you know, but the stories…well, damn it, the stories were right!” Her eyes began to cloud up. She swallowed, and said, “My mother warned me. I was on the Pill, but hey, gods are, y’know, divinely potent. I knew right away I wanted to sue the bastard, and I have friends who recommended you, so I called you, and here I am.”

  “Child support?” Benny brightened. That had much better odds than palimony. “Or are you going to get rid of it?”

  “I don’t think I dare get rid of it,” she said.

  “Um,” Benny said, remembering her delusion. He supposed aborting a god’s kid wouldn’t go over very well. Then he brightened. “Well, we can say you have religious reasons for keeping the child.”

  Bambi smiled weakly—the first time she had smiled since arriving in his office. “You got it,” she said.

  It was Benny’s turn to frown deeply as something occurred to him. He thought he had a case here, if the broad really was pregnant—he could probably turn her obvious derangement into a few extra grand in every payment—but first he had to find the defendant.

  “So…if he walked out on you, and the two of you only saw each other at your place in Gardena and on the beach, how’re we going to find him? I tend to think process servers aren’t exactly welcome on Mount Olympus.”

  She grimaced. “Yeah,” she said. “I know. But he’s got a few temples still, in Greece and Italy, and he gave me a fax number…” She fumbled in her purse, then handed Benny a slip of paper.

  Benny took it. “Olympus has a fax number?”

  “Hey, everybody has a fax number these days,” Bambi said. “Why shouldn’t they?”

  Benny couldn’t answer that. He looked at the paper, and saw that it was an overseas number; he didn’t recognize the country code.

  “Worth a shot,” he said. “We can’t subpoena him, but maybe once he knows there’s a kid coming, he’ll agree to a meeting…”

  * * * *

  He agreed. The return fax was in a bold Roman font, floridly worded, professing great affection for Ms. Bambina Munoz-Darwin and acknowledging—hell, Benny though, boasting of—the paternity of her unborn son.

  “Of course it’s a boy,” Bambi muttered. “Damned old-world sexist pig.”

  The fax also agreed to a meeting, with the understanding that all cooperation was entirely dependent upon no mention of Ms. Munoz-Darwin’s condition or recent involvement being made in any wedding chapel or other temple of Hera anywhere on Earth, nor any further faxes being sent.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Benny said, as he read the document through for the second time. “He thinks he’s Zeus, too.”

  * * * *

  Benny had to admit that the guy looked the part of a god—tall, majestic, magnificently broad-shouldered, his face calm and unlined. He wore his white hair and beard long, and arrayed in ringlets; the contrast with his smooth, youthful complexion was striking.

  He was dressed in an impeccable grey suit, and filled the conference room doorway quite convincingly, almost hiding another figure who stood just behind him—a shadowy figure, almost as tall. The white-haired man announced, “My brother has chosen to accompany me. I trust you have no objection.”

  “Of course not,” Benny said. “We have nothing to hide.” He gestured at the waiting chairs. “Come in and make yourselves comfortable.”

  The two men entered and seated themselves, Zeus striding boldly, his dark brother moving silently, almost stealthily. Benny stared at the brother, but seemed unable to see him properly; he got an impression of someone large, dark, and forbidding…

  Uncomfortable, he tore his gaze away and looked around the table. “Well, we’re all here,” he said.

  Then he noticed that Bambi wasn’t listening. She was staring at the dark figure.

  Benny frowned and turned to Zeus. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your brother’s name…?”

  “Hades,” Zeus said. “I had thought you would recognize him.”

  “Hades?” Benny looked at the dark figure and paled slightly under his tan. Whoever and whatever that guy was, Benny didn’t want anything to do with him.

  “If you’re trying to intimidate us it isn’t going to work,” Bambi snapped. “I’m not scared of him.”

  Her voice didn’t sound entirely steady, and Benny glanced at her.

  She was still staring at Hades. From her expression, she really wasn’t scared.

  That didn’t mean she wasn’t reacting, though.

  Benny suppressed a groan; he leaned over and muttered, “Hey, pay attent
ion. We have business to conduct.” Then he leaned closer and whispered, “What is it with you? You have a thing for gods? That guy gives me the creeps! And if you act like a round-heeled slut it isn’t gonna make my job any easier!” He glanced at the two gods—somehow, here in the room with them, he was having much less difficulty in believing they were indeed gods—and wondered whether Zeus had brought Hades along deliberately, knowing Bambi would find him attractive.

  Tall, dark, and handsome, yeah, but still, Benny wondered, what did Bambi see in him?

  “Sorry,” Bambi said, turning away from that ominous figure. “Guess maybe I do have a fascination with the divine.” She giggled nervously and stole a quick glance at Hades. “Or maybe a deathwish.”

  “Well, whatever it is, it can wait,” Benny said. Then he turned to Zeus and spoke up.

  “In your fax you acknowledged impregnating my client,” he said. “May I ask what your intentions are toward the child and mother-to-be?”

  “I have no intentions,” Zeus replied. “The child is mine, and will be a mighty hero. When he is grown he may come to me as a son comes to a father, to be recognized and accorded the treatment he deserves.”

  “Hm.” Benny cleared his throat. “I’m afraid that isn’t sufficient. Under the laws of this state you have an obligation to provide for the feeding, clothing, shelter, and education of your offspring. If you are unable to do in person—as I understand to be the case here, since you’re married—then you must make support payments to the mother until the child is grown.”

  “Payments? I do not traffic in earthly wealth.” Zeus, already dominating the room, seemed to swell. “I am not bound by Man’s laws, nor do I recognize this state of which you speak.”

  “You damn well better recognize the State of California!” Bambi said, suddenly angry. “This isn’t your precious Greece! This is my place, my family’s homeland, where our rules apply and you old gods don’t count for anything special!”

  “California?” Zeus glanced at Hades, who shrugged. “I have kept up with the times in many ways, but these western lands are still strange to me. The legendary isle named for the Amazon queen Califia—is that what you claim this place to be?”