Finding Cupid

by Daisy Dexter Dobbs

  “No, he tried to eat Liliphant.” Lula gestured toward the pretty, youthful-looking sprite.

  Dake’s mouth gaped open. “You’re kidding, right?” He didn’t even know why he bothered to ask because, of course, she wasn’t.

  Lula shook her head and tsked. “And Cinnamus had such high hopes for Bubbadoofik too. As for leprechauns, Clarence is the only one in our class, but he’s on holiday right now. He’s a master shoemaker and a really nice guy. In fact, Clarence made these sandals for me.” Lula shifted her position to display her gold-tipped shoe. “He’s visiting his kinfolk in Ireland because they’re having a big family reunion.”

  “So…uh…” Dake gave a surreptitious glance to the chariots occupants. “Besides Seraletta, who’s in search of a soul, and Vibius, who’s itching to buck my ass with those goat hooves of his, is there anyone else here I need to be wary of? I mean, human flesh isn’t considered a delicacy or anything, is it?”

  The way some of Lula’s classmates were sniffing the air and eyeing him, as if picturing him trussed on a platter, nestled between a mound of gravy-topped mashed potatoes and buttered ears of corn, he couldn’t help but wonder.

  “Naturally, Bubbadoofik would have been in ecstasy, had he been here,” Lula noted. “As for the others, most are just impish. Well, except for Edgar the goblin. You really should avoid getting on his bad side, because he can be downright mean.”

  She tapped her chin while scanning the other students. “That’s Ofradurn, the troll,” she said, nodding in the direction of a burly, ugly-as-sin, wild-haired little creature. “Trolls have an aversion to loud noises, so it’s best to keep that in mind. I felt so sorry for poor Maureen the last time she let out an earsplitting wail. Ofradurn actually taped the poor banshee’s mouth shut. Can you imagine?”

  Dake was silent a moment. “Give me a minute…I’m trying.”

  “Oh dear, I almost forgot about Dunniger,” Lula said thoughtfully. “He’s the charming, dashing one there in the corner. The one who looks like a finely honed Greek god. While he claims to have given up the consumption of human flesh over a century ago, one can never be too sure, so I’d keep my distance if I were you.”

  “What is he?” Dake asked, thinking he just looked like an attractive guy until he caught sight of the way his skin shone faintly with iridescent green scales that were almost imperceptible unless caught by the sun’s rays. He bore an air of sophistication and confidence.

  “A dragon,” Lula answered, and you could have knocked Dake over with a feather.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” he said.

  “While we’re in midair?” Lula gasped.

  Dake laughed. “No, sweetheart, that’s just an expression like…like, well, signifying that I found what you said hard to believe.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “I always thought dragons were huge reptilian creatures with claws who breathed fire. This guy looks all suave, like a male model. Well,” Dake amended with a shrug, “except for the greenish scales.”

  “Dunniger is able to change his form just like that,” Lula said with a snap of her fingers. “The brownies and sprites find his natural size and appearance too menacing, so he usually maintains a human shape when they’re around. In general, he’s quite the ladies’ man and has many female admirers.”

  “But you’re telling me he’s an actual dragon though, right? Like the ones out of the medieval stories.”

  “Indeed. A fierce and mighty one.” Lula nodded. “Who could roast and consume you before you’ve even blinked an eye. So try not to do anything to rile him, Dake.”

  Dake stared at the debonair dragon a moment before shifting his gaze back to Lula. “Right,” he said. Really, what else could he say?

  “And as long as Mookie doesn’t sense you’re after his treasure, you should be okay,” Lula told Dake, motioning to a cute, pudgy little guy who looked utterly harmless.

  “Who’s he?”

  “Mookie’s a gnome. To be on the safe side,” Lula added, “just avoid the topic of finances with him. He looks sweet and innocent enough, but if he feels threatened he bares his sharpened teeth and it’s a fairly daunting sight.”

  “The little guy’s rich, huh?”

  “He probably has more gold than your government’s treasury,” Lula answered. “His hoard is hidden away near his permanent home underground.”

  “On Olympus?”

  “I can’t say for sure.” Lula shrugged. “Mookie’s very secretive. No one knows exactly where he lives.” Lula squeezed Dake’s hand. “Would you like to move to the side of the chariot so you can take a look down?” She smiled when he hesitated. “It’s quite a splendiferous panorama, I assure you.”

  Dake looked into Lula’s eyes. Usually a deep blue, they were lighter now—clear and bright as he and Lula soared through the clouds. Her pouty pink lips were curved into a smile and her gold curls glinted in the sunlight. God, she was beautiful.

  He realized that as long as she was in his life, all his worries and concerns were trivial. Well, except for the concern of having his thigh bones sucked clean of flesh by some ogre, or getting char-grilled by a dragon, of course.

  “Yeah, sure. Why not?” He got to his feet and helped Lula up. A quick glance at the back of the chariot had him swallowing hard. “Gee, you’d think they’d put backs on these things. Doesn’t anyone ever fall out?” Just as he asked the question, the chariot dipped, jostling everyone, and Dake yelped as he fought to keep his balance.

  “Quiet!” Ofradurn the troll warned, and Dake noticed the guy patting a roll of what looked like duct tape looped at the belt of his grungy tan suede tunic.

  “Yes, there have been cases of passengers falling out, but they’re usually rescued by one of the flying patrols before plummeting to their deaths,” Lula said.

  “Flying patrols…you mean like air police?”

  “Something like that.” Lula nodded. “I’d liken them more to the coast guards who monitor your beaches and keep swimmers safe. The patrols are dispatched from Olympus to keep passengers of the skies safe. Winged horses, lesser gods and even some of the stronger nymphs and fairies are employed. But I’d recommend that you try to avoid spilling out of the chariot if possible, Dake. It’s a terrible, ghastly fright before you get scooped up and carried back to safety.”

  Dake eyed her and smiled as he caught Lula nibbling her bottom lip. “It sounds like you’re speaking from firsthand experience.” He chucked her chin with his knuckle.

  “I’m afraid so,” Lula said just above a whisper. “Twice so far.”

  “Well, that just makes me feel so much safer standing here in the middle of a backless flying chariot with you, sweetheart,” Dake said, tongue firmly planted in cheek.

  “Why, thank you, Dake.” Lula beamed a smile at him. “That’s nice of you to say.”

  Chuckling, Dake wrapped his arm around Lula’s waist and guided her to the side rail where they looked out at the passing vistas. Damn. She was right. The view was magnificent. Breathtaking. Mountains and canyons and winding bodies of water. Clouds and mystical winged creatures soaring by… And every so often, he witnessed a strange sort of hazy flash. Like an image trying to come into focus, but just missing.

  “What are those weird cloudy flashes?”

  “Those are brief glimpses into different time periods,” Lula answered. “Due to the speed, location and magical properties of the chariot.”

  By this time, Dake was getting used to hearing bizarre answers to his questions, so he pretty much took her explanation in stride. Why not? Hell, if there were ogres and leprechauns and dragons and screaming wild banshees, then why not buy into the notion of time travel as well?

  “What’s that in the distance?” Dake asked, eyeing something that resembled a city, glinting like gold, high atop a mountain beneath the cover of fluffy white clouds.

  “Olympus.” Taking his hands in hers, Lula turned to face him. “Oh, wait until you see it, Dake. It’s the most wondrous, magical p
lace. Quite unlike Earth. We’ll have such fun together there.”

  At the mention of Olympus, thoughts of meeting with the ominous Council of Deities surged through Dake’s mind. Oh yeah, that would be fun. He wondered for a split second if he might be better off just diving off the chariot now.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “It’s utterly exquisite,” Zeb said, trailing his fingers along the soft, petal-pink marble column. He stopped to study the glow of the fine polished stone, which was also beneath his feet and along the walls. “The dappled variations of white against the delicate pink and the silver-gray veining… Cinnamus, I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

  “I’m glad you like it. I felt sure you would, Zebulon.”

  Zeb felt the rich low rumble of Cinnamus’ voice deep in his groin. The man, no, the god was, without doubt, the most superb specimen of masculinity Zeb had ever encountered. From his golden curls to his sun-kissed flesh to his dazzling blue eyes, Cinnamus was living, breathing perfection.

  Unable to keep himself from glancing at the skirt of his toga, Zeb smiled, somehow certain the perfection extended to the prize concealed between his thighs.

  “You must be weary from the trip,” Cinnamus said. “Come,” he took Zeb by the hand, “we’ll partake of some refreshments and then relax in a warm, lavender-scented bath.”

  “Sounds heavenly.” Rarely finding himself at a loss for words, Zeb followed silently as Cinnamus led him though his magnificent, art-filled home. He was far too busy taking in his splendid surroundings to make small talk.

  In each room, glorious blooms flourished in planters, bursting with vibrant color and gentle fragrance. Some of the flowers were completely foreign to Zeb. Chiseled busts of renowned men and women rested on marble pillars throughout the vast residence. Cinnamus demonstrated how, with the mere wave of his hand, the heads came to life as they made eye contact, smiled and spoke of their deeds, accomplishments and history.

  Upon entering each room, soft, airy music played, some instrumental and some vocal. As they stepped from one room to the next, the music in the room they departed stopped while a different tune played in the newly entered area. Zeb couldn’t help doing a quick little step back and forth over one of the thresholds and smiling when the magical music phenomenon continued to perform seamlessly.

  A moment later, he gasped when something nudged his thigh. He looked down to see what appeared to be a unicorn, no bigger than a collie, gazing up at him. When it playfully prodded his leg again, Zeb laughed, reaching out to pet the beautiful ivory-colored animal.

  “Is it all right to pet him?” he asked, wanting to make sure he didn’t frighten the creature or that the creature, who might not like to be touched, didn’t do more than just poke him gently with that long spiraled horn.

  “Absolutely,” Cinnamus said, patting the unicorn’s flanks. “Sabellius is quite sociable, aren’t you, Sabby?” The small horse nodded, clacking a front hoof against the marble floor. “Unicorns make ideal, loving house pets. They’re quite intelligent too.”

  “What an amazing little creature,” Zeb said, getting down on one knee and smoothing his fingers through the animal’s silky mane. Sabellius immediately took to Zeb, cozying up to him as he showed his gratification at the attention. “Are unicorns all this small?”

  “No, Sabby is a miniature variety. He’s at his full height now. He’s quite taken with you, Zebulon.”

  “The feeling’s mutual.” Zeb fingered the animal’s graceful horn, aware that the creature could easily make shish kabob out of him if so inclined. “I take it you don’t have to worry about being skewered.”

  Cinnamus chuckled. “No, unicorns are very gentle creatures by nature. The only time he might use his horn in an aggressive manner is to protect his master. In that case, he could easily inflict severe damage.”

  The unicorn trotted to a broad, floor-to-ceiling expanse of glass, softly tapping his horn against the sparkling surface and then looking back at Cinnamus.

  “As you can see, he’s house-trained too.” As if conducting an orchestra’s violin section, Cinnamus stroked the air with his hand in a figure-eight motion. The glass dissolved, simply dissolved into nothingness right before Zeb’s eyes. They walked through where it once stood to the outside.

  “This is the west wing garden,” Cinnamus said as Zeb gaped at the wondrous array of blossoms, sculpted greenery and a lush carpet of grass. “There’s a similar one in the east wing where Dakin and Lula are staying.”

  “I hope they know how to do that little flourish you did to get to the outside,” Zeb said, waving his hand as Cinnamus had done.

  “Don’t worry, Hercules will take good care of them.”

  “Hercules…” Zeb lifted an eyebrow. Of course, nothing should surprise him by now. “You mean…?”

  Cinnamus laughed. “No, not that one. This Hercules is my manservant. I dispatched him to cater to your brother and Lula while you and I get to know each other better.”

  Zeb’s heart leapt at the promise in Cinnamus’ eyes.

  Motioning to the left, Cinnamus led Zeb around a corner to an immense stone patio that looked out onto an Olympic-sized swimming pool and two in-ground spa tubs. Zeb caught a whiff of lavender from one of the spas as they headed toward the broadest area of the patio, graced with several large tables with chairs and a number of smaller tables.

  They sat at one of the more intimate tables, set with fragrant foodstuffs, gleaming crystal, china and precious metals. The gold bands girdling the linen napkins glinted in the fading sunlight. A lighted pillar candle sat nestled amidst a colorful, sparkling collection of colored glass and opaque stones in a crystal bowl.

  “I’ve never seen glass twinkle with such depth and intensity,” he told Cinnamus.

  “The glass,” Cinnamus explained with a warm smile, “is actually a mix of diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds and amethyst. The solid stones are pearls, opals, turquoise, hematite and lapis lazuli.”

  “Good God,” Zeb breathed.

  “Thanks,” Cinnamus quipped. “I think I am too.” His laughter was infectious and soon Zeb had joined in. “Here on Olympus,” Cinnamus went on, “everyone has access to all the precious and semi-precious gems they desire. They’re plentiful here. The same for precious metals like gold, silver and platinum.”

  He tinked the silver-colored base of the crystal bowl with a fingernail. “It’s always been that way here. It eliminates the need for envy and jealousy, two of the most heinous evils affecting Earth. Of course, Olympus still has its foolish and its somewhat less than honorable inhabitants, but the problem of iniquity here pales in comparison to Earth’s.” He scooped several stones from the bowl and rolled them around in his palm.

  “It sounds like paradise.” He studied the stones, shaking his head in wonder at the fortune Cinnamus held in his hand, not to mention the mind-boggling wealth contained in the bowl.

  “Not quite,” Cinnamus dropped the gems into Zeb’s hands, “but it is, indeed, an exceptional place to live. And, believe me, I’ve seen countless different locations in my nine hundred seventy years. The stones are yours to keep,” Cinnamus told Zeb.

  Allowing the gems to roll around in his palm, catching the sun’s rays, Zeb shook his head. “No thanks. I’m already a wealthy man. I work all day at a job I adore, I have a darling apartment decorated exactly to my liking, I surround myself with good friends and a pain in the ass brother whom I love more than words can express. Honestly, what more could a man ask for? The only thing missing from my life, the only thing I need to make me a truly happy and fulfilled man—”

  He stopped short, glancing up from the gems he let fall back into the bowl to the stars in Cinnamus’ eyes.

  “Is your soul mate,” Cinnamus finished for him, nodding. “Yes. That’s something I fully understand.”

  Zeb shrugged. “And the last time I looked, soul mates weren’t something money could buy.” They exchanged smiles. “But thank you. I do appreciate your kind gesture
of generosity, Cinnamus.”

  “Even a wealthy man has to eat,” Cinnamus teased, passing a bowl to Zeb. “Fig? They’ve been poached in spiced red wine with honey.”

  Plucking a wine-glazed fig from the bowl with his fork and depositing it on his plate, Zeb indulged in a deep, soulful breath. He felt as if he’d died and gone to heaven. Only heaven never even came close to this idyllic place in his imagination—and it certainly didn’t come equipped with a breathtaking, sexy, toga-clad god either.

  The little unicorn trotted to the table, checking out the goodies much the same way a dog or cat would. Zeb chuckled as Cinnamus removed the cover from a rectangular container, passing a small bunch of carrots to Sabellius. “There you go, Sabby.” He smoothed his hand over the creature’s back, patting it. “Now be a good boy and go to your quarters while I visit with Zebulon.”

  With a nod and a whinny, the unicorn trotted off.

  “I’m smitten,” Zeb said, watching Sabby’s full tail swish left and right as he retreated. “He’s just too cute for words.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without him. I rescued him from an ogre who’d planned to make Sabby his dessert one afternoon about fifty years ago,” Cinnamus said with a faraway look in his eyes. “He’s been devoted to me ever since.”

  “Well, it’s no wonder,” Zeb said. “You’re the little guy’s hero.” He watched as Cinnamus shrugged off the compliment.

  “That’s raw goat milk cheese,” Cinnamus pointed out, changing the subject as he gestured to a stack of creamy chunks on a bountiful cheese platter.

  “It’s rich and buttery and delicious on these crusty baguette slices, especially when paired with a slice of the marinated roast lamb or grilled pork. The wine,” Cinnamus held his glass aloft and Zeb clinked it with his own before sipping, “is from last year’s pear harvest. It’s mixed with honeysuckle and crushed rose petals. Mildly effervescent and slightly sweet, but not cloying.”

  Awash in thought as he caught the first color change of what promised to be a miraculous sunset, Zeb studied Cinnamus’ handsome, strong but kind features and smiled. “I feel just like Cinderella,” he finally said, and after taking it in, Cinnamus burst forth with laughter.