Planetary Passions 6: Double Trouble (Gemini)

by Allyson James

  Only one story was a little different. Castor and Pollux were pursued by a demon demigoddess who was so adamant to have them she sent a hydra to capture them, but whether the hydra succeeded, the story didn’t say.

  Fiona sighed and closed her last book. There might be more about the jar in libraries back at the University of Chicago, and she’d have to search the Internet and the email loops in case an archaeologist was working on something that could help her.

  The library was quiet today, most people out either doing their jobs or taking vacation on the coast. She sat in a shadowed corner near a window with a long stretch of empty tables and chairs between her and the door.

  Except now they weren’t empty. A woman lounged in a chair not far from her. She had long black hair that swept to her lap in a sensuous wave and wore tight black leather pants and a black leather bustier, impractical for the hot weather of summer, and strange attire for an academic library.

  When Fiona stood up, the woman smiled and stood up too. She had a pointed face, dark eyes and a full-lipped, scarlet mouth. She wore gloves on her hands and carried a whip coiled in one fist.

  Fiona looked into the woman’s face and gasped, the sound loud in the quiet library.

  Her eyes were black pools of evil, eroticism taken in a foul direction, sex used for pain and torture and death. She was a woman who got her pleasure using people until they begged to get away, and then she punished them for pleading for mercy and killed them anyway.

  Fiona sensed all that behind the woman’s eyes, a sticky, foul malevolence that soiled the air of the innocent library.

  “So,” the woman said, her deep voice filled with scorn. “You took away my boys.”

  “You’re the demigoddess,” Fiona whispered.

  “I am Selena.” Her bosom mounded high over the bustier. “The twins belong to me.”

  “Not anymore, they don’t,” Fiona said quickly. The woman was scary as hell, but Fiona had no intention of letting Pol and Cas back under her power. Selena had deprived them of twenty-five hundred years of their life until they woke up in a world they didn’t understand.

  Selena cocked her head, studying Fiona closely. “You must have great magic to be able to lift the spell. As much as you lifted it, anyway.”

  Fiona automatically started to deny that she had any powers at all, then reconsidered. It wouldn’t hurt if this woman believed she wasn’t as defenseless as she felt.

  “I have the magic of archaeology,” Fiona said, drawing herself up. “I used it to free Cas and Pol.”

  “Lucky them.” The woman ran her gloved fingers over her own lips, outlining her blood-red mouth. “If I wasn’t so pissed off at you, I’d do you sweetly, my dear. I’d be nice, since you’re so pretty.”

  A shiver of loathing went through Fiona. “Why did you bind them to the jar? How did you do it? It was a clever bit of sorcery.”

  The woman slanted her a smile that said she’d caught on to Fiona’s attempt at flattery.

  “It wasn’t clever at all, just a simple binding spell. We performed the ritual that you saw so nicely painted on your jar. And then we became a part of it, to have raw, beautiful sex forever.” She waved her fingers, looking triumphant.

  “But something went wrong,” Fiona said. “The twins were in oblivion, and I’m willing to bet you were too.”

  Rage flared in Selena’s black eyes and sparks actually shot from them, making Fiona take several hasty steps back.

  “Interfering bitch wouldn’t let me have my fun,” Selena hissed.

  “Which bitch?”

  Selena opened her mouth to answer then smiled again. “Oh no, I’m not giving you all my secrets.”

  “At least tell me why you are no longer pictured on the jar while they are.”

  Selena smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know? There’s nothing you can do, darling, Castor and Pollux will be forever connected with that piece of clay. After I entered the spell, I had one of my slaves break the jar and scatter the pieces far and wide so the goddesses they’d beguiled wouldn’t be able to find it. Lazy bitches wouldn’t bother to look if there was a chance they’d break a nail.”

  “Good thing I persisted in finding it,” Fiona pointed out. “Or else you’d be trapped in oblivion still.”

  “The oblivion thing was a slight complication.” Selena made a tiny space between gloved thumb and forefinger. “But now that all the goddesses have abandoned this place, I can do my spell again. Ah, sweet eternity with those two enormous, gorgeous cocks buried in my body.” She closed her eyes and gave a little shiver.

  “Cas and Pol don’t belong to you,” Fiona said angrily.

  Selena’s eyes snapped open. “They don’t belong to you, sweetie. I don’t care how much they’ve stroked and teased you.” Her smile returned as Fiona blushed. “They have, haven’t they? They can’t keep their hands off anything female. Did they make you believe you’re special to them?” She imitated a pout. “Isn’t that sweet, they made you think they cared.”

  Fiona felt an answering fury bubble deep inside her. This woman, for all her power and eroticism, knew nothing about Cas and Pol, cared nothing about them.

  “Get out of here,” she said, finding strength in anger. “You don’t belong here.”

  Her voice rang to the very corners of the library. The shelves and shelves of books lining the walls seemed to frown, not liking the noise, yet agreeing that the black-haired woman had to go.

  Instantly, Selena was at Fiona’s side, long fingers twisting in Fiona’s hair. She laid the coiled whip against Fiona’s cheek. “Stupid little bitch, your magic is nothing compared to mine. I am a demigoddess, daughter of Poseidon. Do you think you can challenge me?”

  No, Fiona really didn’t. If she hadn’t already talked herself into believing magic had trapped Cas and Pol for twenty-five hundred years, she’d believe it now. The woman radiated power—harsh, evil power—and Fiona knew Selena could kill her here and now. There was nothing Fiona could do to stop her.

  Fiona felt something brush her lower leg, then a gray tabby cat with orange eyes, looking remarkably like the one that liked to hang around the dig, jumped to the nearest table. It glared at Selena, slammed its ears back and hissed.

  Selena swung around and slashed at the cat with her whip.

  Except the cat wasn’t there. The air shimmered with energy where the cat had been, energy that vibrated up the whip and slammed Selena hard into a table behind her.

  Selena climbed to her feet, blinking. I should run, Fiona thought, but her feet were frozen to the floor, her limbs unable to move.

  And then the cat was back on the table, its hackles raised, its orange glare trained on Selena.

  “Bitch!” Selena screamed at it. She started backing away, navigating the chairs and tables with difficulty, no longer trying to lash out with the whip. “You won’t be able to protect her always. And you—” She switched her furious gaze to Fiona, stabbing the air with a leather-covered finger. “You won’t be able to protect them. Think about what might happen if that jar breaks.”

  Fiona’s eyes widened. She pictured her jar sitting unprotected in the pottery room and a stray archaeologist bumping the table and sending the vessel to the cement floor. She imagined the pictures of Pol and Cas lying broken and splintered.

  Did Selena mean they would die? Or be sent back to oblivion? And what was to stop Selena from rushing to the dig and breaking the jar herself?

  Fiona made a noise in her throat. The cat lashed its tail, still glaring at Selena. The black-clad woman sneered one last time then turned and strode off, disappearing in mid-air.

  Fiona shuddered, released from her frozen stance. She glanced at the cat, who yawned, then sat on its haunches and began washing its face in a very catlike manner.

  “Thank you,” Fiona told it. “Whoever you are, thank you for stopping her.”

  The cat continued to wash its face as though oblivious to human chatter.

  Tentatively, Fiona rubbed it betwee
n the ears, hoping that she wasn’t offending whatever entity was inside. The cat lowered its paw and leaned against Fiona’s hand, its body rumbling with purrs.

  “Really, thank you.” Fiona dragged in a breath, fear bringing her strength back. “I have to go. I have to make sure she doesn’t hurt Cas and Pol.”

  The cat rubbed its head against her hand a few more times. Then it jumped down from the table and stalked away, tail straight in the air, looking smug as only a cat could.

  * * * * *

  The transport called a motorcycle was hard to get used to, but after only a few mishaps Cas began to catch on. He had to admit he enjoyed the curses he drew from his brother who clung on behind him.

  They’d gotten the motorcycle from Hans Jorgensen who’d good naturedly told them to take it and enjoy their trip. They’d gotten the map of modern Greece from a man in the flea market and the whole idea of the trip from Hans.

  “Does anyone worship the gods any longer?” Pol had asked him that morning. “Anyone at all?”

  Hans had actually paused in his joy of brushing dust from stones to answer them. “When visiting Mount Olympus earlier this summer, I met people who kept shrines to the old gods. I had much interesting conversation with them.”

  “Mount Olympus, of course.” Pol’s eyes shone with anticipation. “We will go, perhaps in one of the things you call taxis.”

  Hans laughed. “That would cost a fortune if they would even go. You need to take a bus or the train. Or you could borrow my bike. I am not going anywhere for a while.” He gave the stone floor a look most men reserved for their lovers. “And I give much thanks to you for it.”

  Cas and Pol mounted the bike, which seemed to be a mechanical horse with wheels, listened to brief instruction from Hans how to start it, then jammed helmets on their heads and took off.

  Dr. Wheelan’s voice trailed after them as they rode out of the compound, “You do have a license to operate a motorcycle, don’t you?” At least that’s what Cas thought he said. It was difficult to understand him over the roaring of the bike.

  Chapter Eight

  Cas’ magic could move people aside for him if he had to, without the people in question being aware he’d passed. But on the bike, he didn’t need to use his magic. The other vehicles dove hastily out of the way as Cas raced through the streets, the drivers of them shouting and waving. Cas waved back and kept going.

  He hadn’t understood the map of confusing byways through town, but he didn’t really need it. He was a demigod, and all gods were drawn to Mount Olympus. They weren’t always welcome there, but they were drawn.

  Cas unerringly drove north and west, finding a route out of the city after a long time of maneuvering through it.

  There was no definite gate or boundary to mark the edge of Athens as there had been in his time. The buildings upon buildings simply dwindled and fell away, and at last they were racing through open countryside—rolling hills and deep river valleys leading to sharp mountains.

  Pol stopped cursing behind him and settled down to enjoy the scenery. There was still traffic, but not as much, and the roads were unbelievably smooth. They roared through villages—clusters of white-washed houses with blue painted shutters and doors—and out again, the traffic becoming more sparse as they went.

  A couple of times, soldiers called police waved them to stop and demanded of Cas why he was driving so swiftly. While Cas talked, Pol soothed these soldiers’ minds so they forgot why they’d stopped and that they’d threatened to take Cas and Pol to jail.

  Once the soldiers became friendly, they pointed out the roads to take to reach Mount Olympus in a shorter time and invited them to stop at their friends’ or families’ homes or cafés for a meal and wine. They also explained about something called petrol or gasoline that they needed to feed the motorcycle in order to keep it going.

  Cas and Pol did stop once or twice when they got hungry, and spent a few hours drinking and telling stories with large families who wouldn’t let them go without a promise of a visit on return. The people at the places where they found the gasoline also pressed gifts of food and fizzy soft drinks on them.

  Cas brought the blessings of the gods onto all their houses, ensuring that they’d be wealthy and fruitful, and then he and Pol went on their way.

  They rode for a long time, well after the sun set and the world went dark. Above them, thousands upon thousands of stars stretched across the horizon, white smudges in the dark.

  Cas knew the constellations like old friends, but there were new stars up there, several of which moved. He knew now about airplanes, those vehicles that flew in the sky and transported people from country to country in a matter of hours, but these lights were tiny and distant. He’d have to ask Fiona about them.

  Busy gazing at these new moving stars, he ran the bike into a ditch, throwing Pol and himself off to land in a pasture of startled sheep. Thinking they might as well rest, Cas pulled the bike from the ditch, removed his helmet and brought out the packets of pita bread and souvlakia that the women at the last house had pressed on them to take for the journey.

  Pol was cursing as soon as his helmet was off. “I learned a new phrase from the Americans at the dig. Your driving sucks.”

  “What does that mean exactly?” Cas stretched out on the bank and chewed on well-seasoned chicken in bread.

  “Technically, it’s what a woman does to a man’s cock. But it has taken on the meaning that someone does something badly. Really, really badly.”

  “Fiona doesn’t do it badly.” Cas slanted a glance as his brother. “Does she?”

  Pol’s anger softened into his usual grin. “You saw? She is a goddess and does everything as a goddess should.”

  “Of course I saw. I can’t stay away from her. Neither can you.”

  “She is fetching, you must admit.” Pol opened his own packet of meat and bread and tzatzíki and began to eat.

  Cas watched Pol for a while, then said slowly. “I claim her.”

  “I know.” Pol chewed and swallowed and looked up at the stars. “You’ve lost your heart, haven’t you?”

  “I have.”

  “‘Tis the way to disaster, Cas. Lovers come to grief, like Aphrodite and Adonis.”

  Cas snorted. “That story does not mean lovers come to grief. It means always listen when a goddess tells you you’ll die if you go hunting that day. Adonis was an idiot.”

  “That is true. I already told Fiona I’d back off and let you have her first. Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

  Cas finished his meal in silence and lay back to watch the stars. A stream trickled somewhere nearby, the rushing sound soothing. He hadn’t felt jealousy when he’d entered the pottery room and seen Fiona, nude and lush, on her knees with her sweet mouth around Pol’s cock.

  He’d felt a rush of desire and his own cock had hardened. She’d done so well licking and nipping and suckling that he’d almost felt it all the way across the room. Pol made her laugh, which meant her red mouth was smiling, her eyes glowing in delight.

  Suck him, love, that’s it, had gone through his mind. He wanted her for himself, but the joy of watching her was heady and hard to resist. He wanted to fuck her and love her, but he wanted to watch Pol fuck her afterward.

  A plan began to form in his head.

  Pol licked the last of the tzatzíki off his fingers. “Keep going?” he asked. “Or sleep?”

  Cas climbed to his feet and reached for his helmet. “Keep going.”

  Demigods didn’t need sleep like humans did, and he still hadn’t shaken off the pall of being in oblivion for twenty-five hundred years. He hoped they could find Zeus or Dionysus or Apollo, and that the gods would fill them in on all they had missed.

  It took them another three hours to reach Mount Olympus, and they drove through the town of Litohoro at its base in the pitch dark. The headlight on the bike led them along a paved road for a while, which soon turned to rutted dirt. When the track became too narrow and rocky, they
left the bike and proceeded on foot.

  At least Cas knew where he was. The foothills of the mountain had always been dominated by humans who ventured as high as they dared to seek the gods and their wisdom and help. They weren’t always welcome. The gods had plenty of sudden snowstorms at their disposal—even in high summer—to throw at unwanted visitors.

  The track became precarious, especially in the dark, but Cas walked along without worry, Pol tramping close behind him.

  The sat down to rest high on the slopes, the frigid air chilling them. They waited without speaking, perched on boulders by a fold of valley through which ran a noisy stream.

  The sun rose slowly, light spilling into the river valley and turning the air to mist. Through the mist, a stag wandered to the stream, its antlers huge and intricate, indicating he’d survived many a season. The stag lowered his head to the stream and drank.

  Cas rose to his feet. The stag started and looked up at him, water streaming from its mouth.

  Pol got up as well, and the stag turned to run, frightened by the humans intruding on his world.

  “We see you,” Cas said. He lifted a bottle that had been pressed on him by one of the families along the journey. “I brought the wine this time. Remember? I promised.”

  The stag stopped. It stood looking at them for a long time then it began walking toward them. In a particularly thick patch of mist the stag blurred into the form of a large, muscular human, the antlers remaining on his head.

  “But I always bring the wine,” Dionysus said as he spread his hand.

  A feast laid itself out on a cloth of gold at the twins’ feet, plates of meat and pastries, overflowing bowls of grapes and huge golden goblets of wine.

  The god walked around the feast and clasped Cas’ hand between his two huge ones. “Well met,” he said formally.

  Then suddenly he roared with laughter and grabbed Cas in a crushing bear hug. “I should say, where the hell have you been?”

  * * * * *