by Holly Kelly
Her king didn’t answer her summons. He likely didn’t hear her. Zeus would have seen to it.
“You, my dear, I’ve decided to destroy. With all the trouble in the world, I’ll need every drop of your power to control the chaos. Besides, knowing you, you’d do all in your power to stop my rise. It’s obvious you have a soft spot for humans, and I have special plans for the vermin.”
Zeus stepped over to a curtain draped across a stone wall and pulled it back. Behind the fabric was a cavity that looked to be some sort of a vortex. As he reached a hand out, another reached from the flowing current. The hand looked to be made of a spectral mist—as insubstantial as a cloud. Despite how it looked, Zeus took hold of the hand and pulled a ghostly figure into the room. It looked to be a woman—thin, frail, and crying.
She sobbed, her face beaming, smiling with joyful tears, as she spoke a language Pele had never heard. Zeus answered her back in her same strange language. A look of horror passed over the woman as she shook her head, pleading. Zeus snapped at her, pointing to Pele.
Pele shrank back.
The spectral woman flew toward Pele, regret in her eyes even as she entered into her. Pele could feel the woman inside her head. Sinking to the floor as her powers drained, she became weaker and weaker. She lifted her hand, the hand that commanded rivers of lava to flow. Her pink, fleshy skin paled, turning grey as ash. She could feel her inner heat cool and harden. She was still alive when her fingers crumbled to dust. Kane, please help me! I’m going to die! She opened her mouth, her last breath coming out in a gravely wail.
“Sara, wake up!” Xanthus shouted. Sara continued to hear the scream of the goddess as she opened her eyes.
She realized that the scream she was hearing was her own. She closed her eyes as her cry turned to a moaning, and she buried her head in Xanthus’ chest. His arms surrounded her, cradling her as she cried. “Sara, what’s wrong?” She couldn’t stop crying to answer him. It all seemed so real. It was real. She knew it now. All the dreams and visions were real. And she had just witnessed the death of a goddess—a good, kind goddess. Zeus had killed her. He coveted her power, so he murdered her to take it.
She could feel the back of the couch pressed against her. This vision descended on her while they were sitting together talking. She was powerless to stop it from coming, nor could she banish the images from her mind. All she could do now was weep, clinging to Xanthus.
“Sara, what is it?” Triton asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Sara, talk to us,” Xanthus said.
“Has this happened before?” Kyros asked.
“Yes,” Xanthus answered.
“Sara, I’m here. Let me help you.” Gretchen’s voice was soft, but Sara was far from the reaches of help or comfort. She couldn’t answer her. The horror of what she’d just experienced was too fresh.
“Sara, baby,” her father’s worried voice whispered. “Is it your mother?”
She shook her head. He sighed, obviously reassured at her answer. “Did you see something that upset you?”
She nodded.
They didn’t speak for several minutes as she continued to cry.
“Let’s give her some time to calm down,” her father said. “When she’s ready, we’ll be waiting.” She sobbed while those around her spoke in hushed whispers. It seemed none of them knew what to do to help her.
“Xanthus you stay with her,” Triton said. “The rest of us will be outside.” Sara could hear the door gently close. Xanthus held her, caressing her hair and pressing kisses on her head as she wept softly. When her tears were spent, Xanthus continued to hold her.
She raised her head and wiped her tears. “I’m sorry I made such a scene. I just…” She swallowed, gathering her courage. “I’ll need to talk to everyone.”
“Are you up to it?”
She sniffed and nodded. “Just let me freshen up a bit. I probably look a mess.”
“You look beautiful.”
She cracked a weak smile. “You always say that, no matter what I look like.”
“It’s always true.”
She kissed him gently. As she pulled away, Xanthus whispered, “I love you, moro mou.”
“I love you too,” she whispered back, feeling comfort in his words.
A moment later, she was splashing water on her face. After towel drying, she looked at her reflection. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she was otherwise composed. She wouldn’t go so far as to say she was fine now. The heart-wrenching experience was too fresh in her mind. But at least she could talk.
The living area was filled with bodies when she returned. It looked like Xanthus had invited them all back. Her father stood as she approached. She considered what to say, but thought it best to just come out and say it.
“Pele is dead.”
Triton paled, shock clearly written on his face as he sank back into his chair.
The confusion on the faces of the Dagonians let her know they had no idea who Pele was.
“Are you talking about the Hawaiian goddess of volcanoes?” Gretchen asked. Of course, she would know. She had lived in Hawaii for several years.
Sara simply nodded.
“How do you know?” Kyros asked.
“I saw it happen.” Sara sighed. “I experienced it.”
Triton spoke up. “You experienced it?”
She nodded and recanted what happened from start to finish. Sometime in the telling, Gretchen put her arm around her. Sara looked at her best friend. Tears were streaming down her face.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” Gretchen said. “And I’m really sorry for Pele.”
“I just saw her earlier today,” Triton said. “When Mount Olympus erupted, I summoned her. Pele saved thousands of lives.”
“It’s not just Mount Olympus,” Gretchen said. “Volcanoes all over the globe are erupting or threatening to erupt. Not to mention the earthquakes. People are at a panic. They’re saying it’s the end of the world.”
“It just might be—for the humans at least,” Triton said. “And now it seems it may also be the end of the gods.”
“The oracle’s words are coming true,” Gretchen said.
“What oracle?” Triton asked.
“We met him in Bermuda,” Gretchen said. “The goddess speaking through him gave me a prophesy… and a nightmarish vision.”
“What did she say exactly?” Triton asked.
“She said, ‘Sara is a key, one of four needed to unlock the cage of the forgotten king, but we must hurry. Her mother is in great danger, and without her mother, she will never be able to open the lock.
“Then she said, ‘Gather the daughters that join the four corners, and go to the place where the mountain touches the heavens. There you must free the king by the fourth new moon. If you fail, the wind will drive fire across the land and the earth will crumble into the seas. All mankind will perish.’”
“When did she say this? How much time do we have?”
“She said it over two weeks ago. We have three and a half months.”
“I’ve a feeling this prophesy has everything to do with Zeus’ actions,” Triton said. “If he were truly thinking to take so much power for himself, he might find consequences he hadn’t planned on.”
“He might also find ruling with ultimate power isn’t that great,” Drakōn said. “Not when there’s no one left to rule over.”
“But I don’t understand the part about the forgotten king,” Pallas said. “Who is the king he’s talking about?”
“I know who he is,” Sara said. All eyes turned to her. She took a deep breath, knowing her words would stun them. “I thought it was just a dream. But it wasn’t. I know that now.”
“What are you talking about?” Gretchen asked. “What dream?”
“The king is Petros, my mom’s father. He’s Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon’s brother, the true king of the gods.”
Triton looked stunned. “This is unbelievable. Are you sure?”
Sara
nodded.
Triton shook his head. “Knowing Zeus, I can see him trapping a powerful god. But then, he’d have to alter the memories of every god, goddess, human, and mythological creature in the entire world so that they would forget he even existed. Even he doesn’t have that much power. That would take more power than I’ve ever seen. It would take…” His voice dropped off as his eyes widened and his face blanched white.
“A single wish,” Sara supplied.
The sun beat down on Nicole’s head as her lungs burned. It hadn’t been that long since she last gardened, had it? Her body protested as if it hadn’t lifted a finger in manual labor in a long time. She looked over her garden. Lush flowers and vegetable plants spilled over their planter beds, healthy and vibrant—like they were every year.
She looked down into the bald patch of ground and estimated where the last tulip bulb needed to be planted. Jabbing her spade into the rich soil, she scooped out the dirt into a pile. When the hole was deep enough, she pressed the bulging root into the bottom and covered it with earth. Then to make everything just right, she raked the ground out smooth and smiled at the results. This spring, there would be color everywhere.
She picked up the sprayer hose and squirted off her hands. Aaron was always complaining about the fact that she refused to wear garden gloves. But truly, there was nothing like the feeling of rich soil running through her fingers. Still, to avoid an argument, she’d better shower and scrub every last speck of dirt from under her fingernails. Aaron was coming home and she didn’t want to spoil his mood.
Stepping up to her two-story clapboard house, she removed her soiled shoes. She made her way through the back door into the kitchen. Dishes were piled in the sink. Oh, how she hated washing dishes. She sighed.
Shower first, dishes after.
She went into the master bath and turned the water on as hot as she could stand it, stepping into the bedroom to choose an outfit to lay out. She frowned at her closet. Only one dress hung there beside two blouses. She really wished she could afford a decent wardrobe. But Aaron’s job could barely pay the bills as it was. There was never anything left for frivolous purchases.
She took out the only dress she owned and her one pair of dress shoes. Opening her lingerie draw, she found a much better assortment. Aaron made a habit of buying her silky, frilly undergarments at each occasion that called for a present. He mentioned he didn’t trust buying her outer clothes, but underwear… he couldn’t go wrong with that.
Actually, right now she’d take a new T-shirt and pair of jeans over any piece of tiny, lacey undies. She’d literally die for a new outfit.
Stepping into the bathroom, she slipped out of her clothes, stood, and shrieked at the stranger. Dark hair framed a pale face with wide, brown eyes. “Holy crap,” she whispered when she realized it was her own reflection in the mirror. She could have sworn it was the ghost. She narrowed her eyes and stepped forward. Did she really look like the ghostly woman she saw yesterday? Could she have imagined it? How could a ghost have her face?
Maybe she was going crazy. Ghosts didn’t exist, did they? But she spoke with one. And the ghost spoke back to her. Claiming she was her daughter. How could she have a daughter? She was only twenty-five years old! And she’d sure as heck remember if she had given birth to a baby. Besides, the ghost looked to be only slightly younger than she was. So how old did the ghost think she was when she gave birth to her, five?
Nicole shook her head and stepped into the shower. The warm water cascaded over her body as she closed her eyes and sighed. She lathered quickly, attempting to finish before the water turned cold. She didn’t make it.
Shivering, she stepped out and dried off. She probably wasted too much time distracted by her thoughts. She should have gotten in immediately.
She quickly pulled on her clothes and zipped up her dress. Yanking a brush through her hair, she remembered she still had dishes to do before Aaron got home. She’d have to hurry.
Minutes later, she was up to her elbow in bubbles, scrubbing quickly. She raised a cup to place it in the cupboard when she jumped, dropping the mug. It shattered on the floor. She didn’t pay it any attention as her eyes darted around the kitchen.
She was being watched.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
No one answered her. Silence stifled the room like a thick comforter on a hot summer night. She swept up the broken glass, and then redoubled her efforts to get the dishes clean, hoping that Aaron would get home sooner rather than later.
She’d just wiped down the counters and dried her hands when she heard gravel crunching under the tires of a car. He was home.
She rushed to meet Aaron at the door. He was smiling when he got out of his pickup truck. Thank heavens he was in a good mood.
“Hey honey,” he greeted as he pecked her on the lips. “What’s for dinner?”
“Dinner?” Her heart sank. How could she have forgotten to cook dinner? “Um, I wanted to see what you’d like to eat before I started cooking it.”
He scowled at her. “I’m hungry now. What have you been doing all day?”
Her irritation threatened to rise. She squelched it immediately. “I was working in the garden.”
“I should have known. Well, I’m going see if there’s a game on. Let me know when you’re done with your wifely duties and have a proper meal to feed your husband. And don’t let this happen again. I don’t work hard to come home and starve.”
She had to bite back a retort. What was with her today? She was always a pleasant and obedient wife. Why was she so irritated by her husband’s behavior?”
Stepping into the kitchen, she filled a pot with water and turned it on to boil. Spaghetti was always a safe meal to serve, and it was quick. Taking out an onion, she chopped it on an old, wooden cutting board. Goose bumps broke out across her body, and her eyes darted up. She could swear someone was watching her!
The sound of a football game filtered in from the living room. “Yes!” Aaron shouted. “Manning does it again.”
It couldn’t be Aaron. It had to be the ghost. “Listen, I don’t want to hear anything you have to say,” she whispered. “And I’m warning you, if you don’t get out of my house, I’m going to get a priest to exorcise your butt and send you to hell.”
Silence.
She waited several minutes before relaxing and getting back to her cooking.
Finally, you sound like the mother I know. The voice startled her, making her jump and splatter sauce across the wall.
“I’m not your freakin’ mother!” she whispered harshly.
I’ve got something to show you, the voice said, and then mumbled softly, Gods, I hope this works.
“You stay out of my head!” Nicole whispered.
Sorry, Mom. I wish I could. But you need this.
Seconds later, Nicole found herself skirting around an old, rusted-out Volkswagen Bug. Rain pelted her face and exposed arms as she ran. She tried to make herself stop, but she had no control over her body. She seemed to be a spectator as she played out a scene. But this was more than a movie. Her mind was filled with thoughts and emotions. She was about to do something she really didn’t want to do, but at the same time, she was desperate to get it over with.
With hands shaking and teeth chattering, Nicole opened the passenger door. Inside sat a tiny, four-year-old girl wrapped in blankets and clutching a ratty teddy bear. Her big blue eyes looked up at her, her bottom lip jutting out. She looked like she was about to cry. Nicole rushed to lift the child out of the car. She slammed the door shut with her foot and hurriedly carried her toward a tall, brick building.
The girl shook in her arms. “Mommy, I don’t want my picture taken. Please don’t let them take my picture!” she pleaded from deep inside the blankets.
“Shut up, Sara,” Nicole whispered quietly. She looked around, passing by several people moving along the paved walkway leading to the door.
“But Mommy, I don’t want anyone to see me.”
; “I said shut up. They’re going to pay us five thousand dollars.” A mixture of joy and relief made her smile at the thought of that much money. She could just picture taking that money and shoving it in the face of her stupid landlord. He couldn’t possibly evict her if she paid him all the back rent plus an advance on the next three months.
“Mommy!”
“When you can feed yourself and pay your own bills, then we can talk. Until then, you don’t have a say in how I make money.” She adjusted her grip when Sara started to slip.
“But Mommy…” Her daughter used her most annoying screech.
“Sara, that’s enough! If you say one more word, I’ll give Tuddles to the thrift store. I swear I will.” Sara clamped her mouth shut and squeezed her bear tight. Tuddles was Nicole’s leverage whenever she needed Sara to do something. One little threat against her prized bear resulted in immediate cooperation.
They walked through the doors a few moments later. A young woman, with a bright pink, skintight dress sat with her long legs crossed behind a glass desk. Her four-inch stilettos lay next to her bare feet.
“Hello.” The woman forced a smile as she looked Nicole over and slipped on her shoes.
“Hi, I’m Nicole; I’m here to see Mr. Mathis.”
The woman pushed a button on a box and said, “Brian, your nine o’clock is here.”
A door opened a minute later, and a middle-aged man with tanned skin and bleached blond hair approached. “Nicole.” He raised an eyebrow and looked her over as he spoke. “So glad you could come. I’m Brian; we spoke on the phone.”
“Hello,” Nicole answered simply.
“Come with me. We need to talk before we can start.” He led them through the doors to his office—although the word office didn’t seem to fit the room they entered. It looked more like an art gallery, with framed photos lining the walls and strange, abstract sculptures placed randomly around the room. Even the chairs looked like works of art, with flowing lines and brightly patterned upholstery.
“Now before we start our work here, I want to see your daughter’s legs. You said she looked like a mermaid, but I’ll admit I’m having a hard time believing it.” He sat on one of his chairs and crossed his arms over his chest. “However, as owner of The Shocker, I do have an open mind.”