by Maz Evans
‘WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!’ he shouted at Gorgy.
‘Er, Gorgy – time to go in your cage,’ said Virgo, bundling the baby gorgon into her arms and rushing him upstairs.
‘You should count yourself lucky,’ sighed Athene. ‘An adult gorgon can turn anything to stone. A youngster like Gorgy can only muster softer materials.’
‘He turned a wasp into a lump of chalk yesterday,’ yelled Virgo proudly from upstairs.
‘You see!’ shouted Elliot. ‘This is exactly what I’m talking about! This is what cannot happen today! You guys have got to stop . . . being you!’
The Gods looked mortified. The gentle ring of Hermes’s iGod pierced the tense silence.
‘Er, shall I?’ said Athene quietly.
‘Why not?’ sighed Elliot, surveying the devastation in his kitchen. How was he ever going to persuade the authorities everything was normal? He couldn’t remember the last time it had been.
‘Hello?’ Athene said into the phone. ‘She is . . . Yes, of course . . . Yes, I’ll inform her immediately.’
Everyone looked quizzically at the Goddess of Wisdom.
‘Virgo, that was the Zodiac Council,’ she shouted up the stairs. ‘They need you up in Elysium, right away.’
‘Now?’ said Virgo, reappearing in the kitchen. ‘But I can’t possibly leave Elliot at this critical time. My presence here is vital. He needs me to support him. He needs me to advise him. He needs me to—’
‘Go!’ said Elliot forcefully, pushing her towards the door.
‘Are you sure?’ said Virgo. ‘I was planning to serve some fairy cakes. With genuine fairies . . .’
‘Take Peg,’ said Zeus, opening the door before Elliot pushed Virgo straight through it. ‘We’ll see you later.’
‘Well, if you think you can manage without—’
The slam of the front door confirmed that he could.
‘One down,’ muttered Elliot under his breath. He sighed and looked around the chaos as the Gods started to clean up after an angry baby gorgon. Today was going to be a very, very long day.
2. Out Laws
‘Virgo! How wonderful to see you! Come in, child, come in!’
In the paradise that was Elysium, Virgo entered the glass pyramid chamber of the Zodiac Council and scanned the smiling faces of her former colleagues. They seemed exceptionally pleased to see her. This was most irregular.
‘Er, hello,’ she said cautiously. ‘Is everyone optimal?’
‘Super-optimal!’ roared Taurus the bull, the current president of the Council, coming forward to shake her hand. ‘Delighted to see you again! Have a biscuit!’
Every Councillor had their own style of government during their annual month in office. Taurus was renowned for his austere, no-nonsense leadership; he hated frivolity. During a previous term, he had outlawed balloons. Yet he was offering biscuits? Perhaps Virgo was dreaming. She had begun to do this since she was stripped of her kardia and became mortal. She could no longer always be sure if she was awake or dreaming. She made a mental note to look out for giant singing watermelons – they gave the game away every time.
‘Um, where do you want me?’ said Virgo, looking around for somewhere to sit. Was she on trial again?
‘Why here, of course, child!’ bleated Aries the golden ram, pulling out Virgo’s red sofa from beneath the golden Zodiac table. ‘Where you belong.’
Virgo looked stealthily around the chamber. No watermelons.
‘You want me to sit . . . with you?’ she began.
‘Yes,’ smiled Aries.
‘At my seat?’
‘Of course,’ grinned Cancer the crab.
‘At the table?’
‘Well, we’re not going to put you in the bin!’ laughed Pisces the fish. ‘Not again . . .’
Aries patted the sofa with a golden hoof. Virgo sat down cautiously as the other Councillors took their places and smiled at her. It was curiously uncomfortable.
‘Well, now, isn’t this marvellous?’ boomed Taurus, running a hoof through his small clump of auburn hair. ‘The whole gang back together. It’s just not been the same without you, Virgo.’
‘Hear, hear,’ was the general mutter of agreement around the table. Virgo sneaked a look under the table. No watermelons there either.
‘It’s . . . uh . . . very optimal to be back,’ she said. ‘Has someone lost the stationery catalogue again?’
Her colleagues roared with laughter.
‘No, you big silly!’ said the Gemini twins. ‘We just wanted to see you.’
‘Why?’ asked Virgo suspiciously.
‘Why not?’ laughed Capricorn the goat.
Virgo paused. Wasn’t it obvious?
‘Because . . . you never have before,’ she said.
A collective gasp went up around the table.
‘How can you say that?’ whispered Sagittarius the centaur, with a hoof over his heart. ‘Don’t you remember that time we all went on holiday?’
‘Yes,’ said Virgo. ‘You left me behind to answer the phones.’
‘That’s why we brought you that straw unicorn!’ shouted Leo the lion. ‘And what about the big party we threw for your 1,021st birthday? There were jugglers, acrobats, magicians . . .’
‘Which I would have enjoyed very much. If I had gone,’ said Virgo.
‘You were in charge of invitations,’ huffed Aquarius, pouring himself a drink from his water jug. ‘If you didn’t invite yourself, that’s hardly our fault . . .’
‘The fact is, Virgo – you are a valued member of our team,’ Taurus interrupted. ‘And that’s very important. We are a team. There’s no “me” in “team”.’
‘Er – technically there is,’ whispered Cancer. ‘Otherwise it would be “ta”.’
‘Shut your claws!’ shouted Taurus. ‘The point is, Virgo, that you are still part of our ta . . . our team, aren’t you?’
‘Um, I suppose so,’ said Virgo. ‘If you overlook the fact that you took my kardia, expelled me from Elysium, won’t let me come back until I prove myself a hero, and someone keeps writing sub-optimal things about me on Golden Racebook . . .’
‘Excellent!’ roared Taurus.
Virgo wasn’t sure if her perception was sub-optimal, but it felt as if everyone leant in towards her.
‘So, enough dilly-dallying,’ said Taurus, pushing the biscuits beyond the reach of Scorpio’s scorpion pincers. ‘The fact is, this isn’t just a social call. We need you on official business.’
Virgo breathed a sigh of relief. They didn’t want her company after all. This was most reassuring.
Cancer pulled out one of the many leather-bound volumes that lined the chamber and threw it on to the table.
‘We need to make a small change to the Sacred Code,’ she said. ‘As you are aware, a unanimous Council vote is required to do this. From everyone. Even you.’
‘But I’m suspended,’ said Virgo. ‘You suspended—’
Aries slung a golden woolly leg around Virgo’s shoulder. ‘Let’s forget about the past. Let’s look to a brighter future.’
‘A safer future!’ boomed Taurus. ‘And who doesn’t want that?’
All the heads around the table nodded so hard they reminded Virgo of Elliot after the time he ran into a wall for a bet. She smiled at the memory of his mortal stupidity.
Taurus cleared his throat and snorted out of his large nostrils.
‘It is possible that your claims about the escape of Thanatos, Daemon of Death from beneath Stonehenge, might not have been as . . . suboptimal as we first thought.’
‘I TOLD YOU SO!’ shrieked Virgo, leaping off her sofa in triumph. ‘I knew it, I knew it, I said that . . .’
She looked around the disapproving Councillors. As Elliot might observe, this was something of an epic fail.
‘Not that it matters,’ she mumbled, returning to her seat. ‘But what changed your mind?’
‘Our network of covert operatives has reported several unconfirmed sightings of Thanatos, Daemon
of Death, and his mother, Nyx, Goddess of the Night, in the Underworld,’ Taurus admitted.
‘The fairies are posting pictures of him on Flitter under the hashtag #ThanatosIsAlive AndWellAndWeHaveSeenHimLoads,’ said the Gemini twins.
‘Be quiet!’ roared Taurus. ‘However, it is important to stress that at this moment in time—’
‘We know nothing about that,’ said Capricorn.
Virgo found her tongue lodged curiously between her teeth.
‘But, in the light of these unsubstantiated reports, we feel some . . . additional security measures would be advisable,’ said Taurus. ‘We have a watch list of dangerous immortals that we fear might ally with Thanatos in the incredibly unlikely event of a conflict. We think it is in the public interest for them – and any other threatening presences on our radar – to be detained in Tartarus.’
‘This is very wise,’ nodded Virgo. ‘We must summon them for questioning and, if your intelligence is correct, arrange their trials immediately.’
Taurus exchanged a nervous look with the rest of the Council. Pisces stood up and waddled around the table to Virgo’s sofa.
‘You see, child – there’s the issue,’ he said, sitting so close to Virgo she had to dangle half her backside off the edge of the sofa. ‘Questioning . . . trials . . . lawyers . . . All of these things take time and resources that we feel could be better spent. You know how we hate unnecessary procedures.’
‘Quite!’ roared Leo, to the encouraging murmurs of his colleagues. ‘I’ve done seven residential courses, thirteen corporate awaydays and twenty-six webinars on how to avoid unnecessary procedures. I can show you my mind map if you like.’
‘So, what do you suggest?’ said Virgo, with a furrowed brow.
‘Delighted you asked!’ bellowed Taurus. ‘We just want to make a tiny amendment to the Sacred Code. We’re calling it “Cole’s Law”.’
‘It’s hardly anything . . .’ said Cancer.
‘They’ll barely notice it . . .’ said Aries.
‘Everyone loves Cole’s Law . . .’ chimed the Gemini twins.
‘All we want to do is give ourselves the power to take known, dangerous immortals and place them out of harm’s way,’ said Taurus. ‘Immediately.’
‘I see,’ said Virgo. ‘What sort of dangerous immortals are we talking about here? Are there more imprisoned Daemons that you are pretending not to know about?’
‘Not exactly,’ said Sagittarius, switching on the projector and aiming a beam of light at the wall. ‘These ones are all around us – hiding in plain sight. We know that werewolves can be very aggressive . . .’
‘I’ve met several ill-mannered vampires,’ Aquarius chimed in.
‘Those sprites can be vicious on Flitter,’ said the Gemini twins.
‘A gnome once barged in front of me at the cheese counter,’ huffed Capricorn.
‘So, you see,’ said Sagittarius, ‘it’s hard to say exactly where the threat is coming from. But I have conducted extensive research and have concluded that one sector of the immortal community is harbouring all the most dangerous immortals.’
He flicked a switch and an image of a pie chart filled the wall. Across it in red letters was a single word: ‘Elementals’.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Virgo, shaking her head. ‘Which Elementals? I mean, that category is huge. It describes any immortal that isn’t a Constellation, a God, a Hero, a Neutral or a Daemon. Elementals are the most common immortals. And it shows—’
‘Precisely,’ growled Taurus, looking grimly into her eyes. ‘It could be any of them. That’s why we’re raising the threat level. We don’t think this is quite a Code Black situation. But I am declaring a Code Brown . . .’
‘Toilets are that way,’ sniggered the Gemini twins.
‘So . . . you want the power to detain every Elemental, even those who’ve done nothing wrong?’
‘Yet,’ added Aries.
‘And you want to imprison them without questioning?’ said Virgo.
The Councillors nodded.
‘Without a trial?’
They nodded again.
‘Just . . . stick them in Tartarus, without giving them a chance to defend themselves?’ she whispered.
‘The Council feels that Cole’s Law is necessary,’ said Taurus grimly. ‘Eliminating the Daemons has kept us all safe for millennia—’
‘Not that we know anything about that,’ said Pisces.
‘And now it’s time to deal with this new threat,’ said Taurus. ‘We very much hope you agree.’
Virgo turned this around in her mind. The right to a trial was a cornerstone of the Sacred Code. She knew it off by heart: Rule Aiv7socks): All immortals have the right to a fair trial. It was written between two equally important laws: C-49tcucumber): Immortals must never leave the tap running while cleaning their teeth and F4Bromley*): Immortals may never go back on an agreed swapsie. It was fair. It was just. It was right.
Even for Elementals.
‘Can I ask a question?’ she said quietly.
‘Of course,’ said Taurus.
‘Anything you like,’ said Pisces.
‘Be our guest,’ said Scorpio.
Virgo rose slowly from the table. It was now entirely clear what was going on here.
‘WHERE ARE THE SINGING WATERMELONS?’ she cried. ‘I know you’re here somewhere! Show yourselves!’
But there was no reply. Not a single watermelon in sight.
‘Have you quite lost your mind?’ asked Aries. ‘This is a crucial security matter! Not one of your five a day!’
Virgo slowly sat down again. This was not a dream – it was really happening.
‘But what if they don’t agree?’ she asked. ‘Surely you can’t force them?’
‘Of course not,’ laughed Taurus, pushing a small golden button in front of him. ‘We’ve already thought of that. We plan to recruit some . . . enforcement officers.’
‘Not the Satyr Squad?’ sighed Virgo. ‘I’ve tried to tell you, they are not real law enforcement officers, they just dress like that for hen nights . . .’
‘Not the Satyrs,’ said Aries.
‘Who then?’ said Virgo.
Taurus looked to his colleagues for support. They nodded at him encouragingly.
‘The Titans,’ he said firmly.
Virgo put her finger in her ear. Elliot had once informed her that he’d put a beetle in her ear while she was sleeping and it was slowly eating her brain. Perhaps that was why her hearing was malfunctioning.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she laughed. ‘I thought you said, “The Titans”!’
No one laughed along.
‘Y-you can’t be serious?’ stuttered Virgo. ‘The Titans tried to overthrow the Olympians! They have been locked in the deepest pit of Tartarus for millennia! They were considered such a threat to public safety they were imprisoned so far beneath the Earth that it would take an anvil thrown from the top of Mount Olympus nine days to land there. How would you even reach them?’
A small ping sounded behind her.
‘We installed a lift,’ said Taurus.
Virgo turned around slowly to see a huge pair of golden doors behind her. A cold draught swept across the chamber as the lift came to a halt. A shiver ran through her.
Taurus walked slowly across the chamber to greet his guests. There was utter stillness as the lift doors opened to reveal . . . four enormous ankles. Two of them had huge golden fetters around them. Virgo gulped.
‘Gentlemen!’ shouted Taurus to the legs. ‘Please, do come in.’
The first pair of knees started to bend, revealing a huge pair of legs that led to a massive, muscular torso. A torn black vest rose up to a vast neck, tattooed with an elaborate blood-red pattern. As the enormous head came into view, the tattoos twisted into the shape of ram’s horns that curled up and over the big ears, then encircled the huge black eyes in the middle of the colossal bald head.
‘Crius!’ cried Taurus, who barely came up to the knees of the g
iant before him. ‘Thank you so much for joining us. Please – invite your brother in.’
Crius slowly turned his head from side to side as he surveyed the chamber, casting a huge shadow across the floor. His gaze fell on Virgo, who suddenly became aware she had been staring at his tattoos. The Titan bent down, drawing his enormous head level with hers. Virgo gulped.
‘I carved them in blood.’ He smiled, revealing his crooked yellow teeth.
‘Th-th-that must have hurt,’ stammered Virgo.
The Titan closed in until his eye was the same height as her whole body.
‘It wasn’t my blood,’ he whispered.
A small whimper escaped Virgo’s body. It wasn’t the only thing looking for the nearest exit.
The Titan slowly rose to his vast height.
‘Brother!’ he called, with a voice deeper than fear. ‘Come!’
A colossal foot took one step forward. But this giant didn’t duck. A crashing thud rang around the chamber as the second Titan collided with the top of the lift.
‘Ow,’ came a slow grunt from inside.
‘Duck. You div,’ growled Crius, rolling his eyes.
The new Titan manoeuvred himself awkwardly out of the lift. His appearance was no less intimidating than his brother’s: he had the same massive muscular torso, if not quite his enormous height. He too was covered in tattoos, his bald head emblazoned with a red skull. Together, they were a truly terrifying sight.
‘Welcome!’ said Taurus nervously. ‘Why don’t you introduce yourselves for the benefit of the group?’
Crius surveyed the room again.
‘All right,’ he growled. ‘I’m Crius – but they call me “The Ram”.’
‘And I’m Coeus,’ said his brother. ‘But they call me . . . they call me . . . they call me . . .’
He stopped and scratched his head.
‘What do they call me again?’
‘The Brain. You idiot,’ said The Ram, giving his brother an almighty shove.
‘I’m Coeus,’ the smaller Titan announced again. ‘And they call me . . . “The Brain. You Idiot.”’