Marie Phillips

by Gods Behaving Badly

  Neil smiled at Alice, and Alice smiled back. The crowd, though, wasn’t smiling. The chanting was starting up again.

  “Bollocks! Bullshit!”

  “Where’s the sun? Where’s the sun?”

  “Who the fuck is Neil?”

  “I know it’s hard to believe,” said Neil. “But think about it. Who could have imagined yesterday that we’d lose our sun? Things aren’t the way we thought they were. What I’m telling you is that there really are gods, actual gods, and they’re walking here on this earth with us. I’ve met them. So have you. They’re the people standing right here in front of you. Trust me. Trust them. They brought Alice back and they’re going to bring the sun back.”

  The crowd started to boo and hiss. People started drumming again, aggressively this time, and missiles were thrown, coins and empty bottles.

  “Well done, Neil,” said Artemis. “That’s perfect.”

  “Perfect?” said Neil. “Are you joking? Look at them!”

  A beer can sailed past his head, only narrowly missing.

  “You can step down,” said Artemis. “It’s my turn. I really hope I’ve got the strength for this.”

  She addressed the crowd.

  “It’s true,” she said. “Alice is here.”

  She stepped forward and reached out a hand to where Alice was standing. For a couple of seconds, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, the crowd went silent.

  Artemis turned to Alice. “They can see you now,” she said.

  “Can they hear me?” said Alice.

  “Yes, they can.”

  “Mum!” shouted Alice. “Dad! It’s all right! They brought me back! I’m okay! I’m alive, I’m fine! I love you!”

  The crowd exploded into clamor. Alice’s friends and family started pushing their way forward to the barrier, calling out her name and crying, while other people shouted, screamed, and applauded.

  “Don’t let them get too close,” said Artemis. “You haven’t got a body yet.”

  But it took a huge effort to speak. The tidal wave of belief was flowing from the crowd, and it knocked her backward with its force, filling her parched body to the brim with its power, making her feel renewed again, reborn, alive. Immortal. Around her, she could hear the gasps and groans of the other gods as they, too, were overwhelmed with an ecstasy greater than any of them had ever felt. Artemis felt her skin tautening, saw the lines and wrinkles disappearing from her hands. Her muscles gripped around her bones, and her blood shot around her body, carrying vigor and energy to her limbs, clarity to her mind.

  “There it is,” she moaned. “Ahhh . . . It’s starting.”

  With some difficulty she looked at her family at the foot of the column. White hairs turned dark, muscles bloomed, wrinkles smoothed out. They seemed to be exploding with light. A new Zeus burst out of his ancient shell like a butterfly from a seemingly dead chrysalis, the crumbled living skeleton giving birth to a muscular, gleaming, handsome man with shining eyes and flowing hair.

  “My family!” he cried. “I have returned!”

  Around him, all of the other gods were blossoming like flowers opening.

  “This is what I kept saying,” gasped Eros, “about mortal belief . . .”

  “It’s amazing,” cried Aphrodite. “It’s better than sex! Artemis, you bitch, is this what you’ve been hoarding all along?”

  Artemis pushed herself up and turned to the crowd, which was watching the transformation of the gods, agog, mouths open, eyes wide.

  “And now,” she announced, “the sun!”

  She hurried down the steps toward the rest of the gods.

  “Aphrodite,” she said. “Give that mortal her body back quick before the humans get to her. They can see her, but if they try to touch her before she’s solid they’ll think it’s an illusion and they’ll stop believing. The rest of you: let’s wake up Apollo.”

  Aphrodite broke away from the group and hurried up the stairs to where Alice was standing, her parents only a few feet away now. Alice was crying tearlessly, reaching her arms forward, calling out messages of love to all the people who were so desperate to reach her. They would cross the barrier any second, and Neil was standing a little ahead of Alice, ready to step in if anybody got too close, but unable to keep from turning back to look at her face, which was glowing with happiness and gratitude.

  “So, Alice,” said Aphrodite. “Exactly how pretty do you want to be? Any lumps and bumps, cellulite you’d like to get rid of? Now’s your chance . . .”

  “No, thanks,” said Alice. “I’m happy as I am.”

  Aphrodite reached out and touched her—actually touched her. Alice gasped and staggered under the weight of gravity as she suddenly felt her body returned to her, in all its imperfect perfection. Then she ran forward to Neil, throwing her arms around him and kissing him, hard, on the mouth. As he kissed her back, her parents finally pushed through the barriers and rushed up the steps to their daughter, laughing, crying, arms outstretched. Keeping hold of one of Neil’s hands, she fell into their arms, real tears pouring down her face, sobbing, “I’m back, I’m back, I’m back!”

  Meanwhile the rest of the gods had gathered in a circle around Apollo.

  “That’s what I was attempting to inform you!” Athena was saying. “The information was already in place!” But all the other gods ignored her.

  “Are you sure this is going to work?” said Hermes. “The life force of a god—that’s a lot of power.”

  “Can’t you feel it?” said Artemis.

  “Yes, I can feel it, but—”

  “I told you so!” Athena screamed, but nobody was listening.

  “Take hands,” said Artemis.

  They all held hands around Apollo’s supine body.

  “Together now,” said Artemis. “On three. One . . . two . . . three—”

  Apollo opened his eyes. And the sun came out.

  Epilogue

  “DO WE HAVE to invite all of them?”

  Neil was sitting up in bed, the pile of invitations on the mattress beside him.

  “Of course we do,” said Alice.

  “Even Hades and Persephone?”

  “Hades won’t come,” said Alice, “which is just as well, but it would be nice if Persephone did. She always thought we made a sweet couple, remember?”

  Alice put down her toothbrush, came back into the bedroom, and climbed onto her side of the bed.

  “You look very sexy in that nightdress,” said Neil, running a hand up over the satin.

  “Neil. Invitations first. Concentrate.”

  Alice took Neil’s hand and returned it to his side of the bed.

  “Okay,” said Neil, picking up the pen and the next invitation. “Aphrodite and Hephaestus.”

  “Make a note on theirs that she should leave her phone behind.”

  “Is she still doing phone sex?”

  “She does it for free now,” said Alice. “She considers it to be a public service.”

  “Hermes,” said Neil.

  “He’s already said yes,” said Alice.

  “But we haven’t even sent the invites yet.”

  “He always has to get his reply in first.”

  “Zeus and Hera,” said Neil.

  “We’ll have to keep Zeus away from the bridesmaids,” said Alice. “But we can’t possibly get married without him.”

  “But if he comes, all the paparazzi will come. He’s the king of the gods!”

  “Hermes will keep them away.”

  “Okay,” said Neil. He addressed the invitation. “Demeter’s doing the flowers, so she’s definitely coming, and Eros is too, of course.”

  “Did you speak to him about the wording of the ceremony?”

  “Yes, I called him this morning. He’s happy for us to write our own vows, but he’s still struggling with the service itself—he said he’s finding it hard not being a Christian anymore, all the Jesus stuff keeps creeping back in.”

  “I’m sure he’ll do a great job,” sa
id Alice. “What about Dionysus, have you heard from him about the music?”

  “Yes, he said he can bring his own turntables, and he asked whether we wanted him to supply some wine for the party as well.”

  “I hope you said no.”

  “I said no,” said Neil. “But I did ask for one bottle for the wedding night.”

  “Oh dear,” said Alice, “that’s very naughty.”

  “I can tell him to keep it if you like.”

  “No, no,” said Alice, “there’s no need to do that . . .”

  “Who else, then?” said Neil.

  “Athena. And we should do one for Ares, though he isn’t coming, he said, as a favor to us. Besides which, he’s still got a lot of wars on. It’s a shame, I thought all of that would have stopped now.”

  “With this lot in charge?” said Neil. “Hardly likely. What about Artemis? Has she agreed to be your maid of honor?”

  “Yes, but she’s being very fussy about the dress. And she wants to bring the dogs.”

  “Tell her to leave them at home. She’s got a big enough garden these days.”

  “Oh, Neil,” said Alice, “don’t be mean. She loves those dogs. Maybe she can just bring one, to head the procession.”

  “You’re soft,” said Neil.

  “That’s why you love me,” said Alice.

  “Okay, Artemis and one dog. So that just leaves . . .”

  “Apollo,” said Alice.

  “The world-famous Apollo,” said Neil. “Celebrity clairvoyant. Rock singer. Raconteur. International playboy.”

  “Invite him,” said Alice.

  “Are you sure? After everything he did?”

  “Of course I’m sure. Anyway, I spoke to Eros. I thought maybe we could help him find a new girlfriend at the ceremony.”

  “Alice . . .”

  “Come on, Neil! What could go wrong? I was thinking about your sister, actually. She hasn’t been out with anyone in a long time, how about it?”

  “Alice!”

  Neil dived onto her, kissing her mouth as she laughed and sending all of the invitations flying onto the floor. And Alice blushed pink, all the way down the back of her neck and to the very tips of her ears.

  About the Author

  MARIE PHILLIPS was born in London in 1976. She studied anthropology at Cambridge University and worked as a researcher at the BBC. More recently she has worked as an independent bookseller while writing Gods Behaving Badly.