by Lizzy Ford
I brought the breakfast and a glass of water to the old man before I returned to the kitchen to feed the expectant dogs. I then began to sweep up the glass sparkling on the floor.
“If it is not treasure you seek, what is it?” Menelaus asked between mouthfuls.
“An engraved stone containing an epithet of an ancient prince. I think it’s buried beneath the sand offshore a short distance.”
“Then it’s gone.”
I paused in my cleaning and looked at the old man.
“Typhoons,” Menelaus explained. “Several natural disasters swept everything off the sea floor and sent what was there either deep into the ocean or somewhere far from the coast. Before the world ended five years ago, college professors tried to find ruins and relics off the coast and concluded nothing remained.”
I absorbed the words as I might a blow. For a long moment, I couldn’t speak. Why had Artemis sent me here, if what I sought didn’t exist? How was I ever to understand why my name was important enough that it was the one detail of my past I was unable to remember?
“With everything that’s happened in the world today, how can you be searching for a museum piece?” Menelaus asked, brow furrowed. “It is worth nothing, if you try to sell it. The world does not value its past as it once did.”
I don’t know. I returned to my task of sweeping up the broken glass.
“Why is this relic so important to you that you came so far?”
“How do you know how far I’ve come?” I asked.
“You stand out. You aren’t from around here.” There was warmth in Menelaus’ voice.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Does it have anything to do with why you sprout wings and fly?”
I looked up sharply. His eyes were whiskey-hued once more. The subtle change wasn’t caused by light, because he was seated facing away from the sunlight spilling through the windows.
“My bladder is old, too. I woke up and saw you transform into a … thing,” Menelaus said. “I’ve seen a lot in my years. That was one of the most intriguing. You are strangely beautiful, for such an ugly thing.”
I studied him, uncertain how anyone could witness my transformation firsthand and react this calmly. “You are not afraid?” I asked.
“I am too old to fear anything anymore,” Menelaus said. “If you wanted to eat me, you would have already, wouldn’t you?”
The corner of my lips lifted in a half smile. “Yeah.”
“I’ve grown wise.” Menelaus tapped his temple. “I have always had an affinity for animals and hunting. Are you a man who transforms into a beast, or a beast who becomes a man?”
“I’m not sure there’s a difference.” I returned to my cleaning and finished checking the floor for any shards of glass I missed. “I am both at all times, no matter what I appear to be.”
Menelaus was quiet, eating his breakfast. I straightened the kitchen, frustrated further by the information about the ruins offshore. I began to think Artemis had forced me away from DC for nefarious reasons. She had called in the oath I gave as a prince, but perhaps, I should not have honored it.
I didn’t understand who I was, and what role I played, in the bigger scheme of things. Alessandra’s birth was prophecy, and every other player in the ring with her had a part to play. I was a wild card, more so after I regained my memories and began to realize I didn’t belong in this time or this place at all. I had hoped the discovery of my name would shed light on my purpose or at least, complete the puzzle of who I had been in my past in the hopes I might learn who I could become.
“Will you leave, now that you know your search is over?” Menelaus asked when he finished eating.
“I should,” I replied.
“If you stay until I can care for myself, I will send you away with my infamous dried fish.”
No reward will make up for the latest slight by a deity. I preferred raw meat anyway. I glanced at the old man’s exposed knee. The swelling was half what it had been. “I can stay a couple of days but no more. It’s a long journey to where I must go.”
“I will be grateful for the company, and so will the boys.” The skin around Menelaus’ eyes – which were dark brown once more – crinkled when he glanced towards his pets.
I didn’t sense a god, as I had when I met Cyamites, but something about Menelaus was … different. I couldn’t pinpoint what.
“What’s it like to fly?”
“Pure freedom,” I said without hesitation.
Menelaus sighed. “I hope your bones never give out on you, and you can fly forever.”
“So do I,” I answered. But I’m almost certain the world will end before I have a chance to grow old.
“Since you are here to help, can you bring in the basket of fruit in the garden?” Menelaus asked.
I replaced the broom and left for the garden. The brilliant blue-green sea caught my attention again, and I sought to feel my connection to Alessandra.
It wasn’t there. Something had to be wrong.
I couldn’t remain here much longer, whether or not I found what I sought.
Chapter Five: Alessandra
“Come back, Lyssa.”
With those three words, the vision shattered. The ground felt like it dropped out from beneath my feet. The scenes playing out before me broke and fizzled away, out of existence. The answers had been here. All of them. Everything I needed to know had been right in front of me.
Unlike the first, this premonition was more fragile than a dream. I tried to force my mind to remember one tiny fragment of everything I’d seen. Colors, faces, and places – they slid through my hands and thoughts like fine sand and poured into the void far below me.
No, no, no! I was screaming and helpless as I fell out of the vision, grasping at whispers. I had to remember something … anything …
Adonis. His face flashed before he, too, disappeared into the abyss.
My eyes flew open, and I sat up before I registered where I was. Voices swirled in my thoughts, the same ones I’d been hearing since Lantos gave the deities the ability to speak to me. It was rare when I could actually understand them, but for a moment, I had been addressing them. I had looked into the past, present, future – and I’d understood everything. Everything that ever had been. Everything that ever was. Everything that ever would be.
And now, everything was gone, except for the lingering image of Adonis.
I uttered the foulest curse Herakles had ever taught me and flung off my bedding. My head throbbed, and I flinched when the bottoms of my feet touched the cold marble floor. My eyes went up automatically to the wall with purple names scrawled across it.
At once, my mind quieted. No matter what I felt or thought upon entering my room, the memorial wall distilled it all, grounded me, and turned my focus towards solid resolve.
Two emotions settled into me as I gazed at the names on the wall. The first, regret, was mine. The second, satisfaction, emanated from the burr that was Cleon in my mind.
I whirled, expecting to find him in my room.
He was nowhere to be seen – but Leandra and Niko were standing beside the seated Dr. Khan, Cleon’s personal physician who patched me up from time to time. The three of them displayed different expressions, but their silence and stillness was enough to tell me all of them were surprised.
“How are you feeling?” Dr. Khan was the first to speak. The slender woman of Middle Eastern background stood and approached me, a stethoscope draped around her neck.
“Fine, I guess,” I replied and glanced down. My body moved well, and I experienced no pain, which made the physician’s presence unwarranted. My stomach growled, and I patted it. “Why? What happened?”
“The Supreme Magistrate’s monkey used too much tranquilizer on you,” Leandra replied icily with a sharp look at Niko.
“I used the same amount as usual. This episode was something entirely different,” Niko replied calmly. “Something to do with her powers.”
�
�Don’t be ridiculous,” Leandra snapped and trailed Dr. Khan towards me.
“So what’s going on?” I asked, puzzled. “Niko tranqs me all the time. I never had a welcome home party waiting for me when I woke up.”
“Niko’s use of animal tranquilizers on a young woman is another matter entirely.” Dr. Khan gave the former mercenary a look of disapproval before her concerned gaze returned to me. “Whatever happened, you’ve been asleep for three days.”
“That explains being hungry,” I murmured. I thought back to the last thing I remembered and frowned.
Cleon had been murdering the Ambassador of Greece when Niko tranquilized me. A sense of euphoria – distinctly not mine – floated through me as I recalled the man’s swollen face. I instinctively reached to the scar at the back of my head, where the chip was implanted into my brain.
Before, I’d been aware of Cleon being in my head without really feeling him. I didn’t like the idea of experiencing his emotions in response to my memories any more than I wanted him using my power.
“I need to do a quick exam,” Dr. Khan said. “Would you like to sit down?”
With a shrug, I went to the chaise in the bay window, across the room from my audience. The physician took my pulse then checked my pupils, heart, reflexes and lungs.
“I’m not seeing anything of concern,” she said.
“I don’t feel right,” I said. “But it has nothing to do with my body or the tranquilizers.”
“Thank you,” Niko growled.
“What doesn’t feel right?” Dr. Khan asked.
“My involuntary brain surgery.” I rubbed the spot again. “Something is different.”
“I’d like to get you in for a CAT scan.”
“No,” Niko responded.
She pursed her lips before twisting to face him. “If the chip has moved, or is damaging her spinal cord or other parts of her brain, we need to know.”
“No.”
I wasn’t the only one resenting Niko in that moment. Dr. Khan made no more objections. She stood. “I’m done here,” she said. “Whatever happened, I can’t explain it, but she seems fine. I would advise – again – very strongly against using tranquilizers on her, Niko. They were designed to bring down a rhino or elephant, never to be used on humans.”
Elephant?
Cleon’s emotion was one of amusement.
Agitated to hear Niko had been using such powerful sedatives on me, I wasn’t surprised when he pointed to the door in response to Dr. Khan’s concern.
The physician left, and Niko studied me. No part of me was about to tell him I had begun having visions. If I was truly asleep for three days, and I couldn’t recall anything, it would sound foolish to admit it anyway.
“I’ll let Cleon know you’re well enough to return to your duties,” Niko said. He walked slowly to the door.
“He already knows,” I replied. “Whatever you all did to me, it’s getting worse.”
He said nothing and left.
No sooner had the door closed than Leandra was at my side, features tight. “What did you see?” she asked and sank onto the chaise beside me.
Cleon’s interest piqued as well.
“Nothing. Everything.” I wiped my face, frustrated. “I forgot it all as I was waking up.”
“You forgot three days worth of visions?”
“Yeah.”
She released a breath.
“I can feel Cleon in my head,” I told her. “And he’s aware of everything I’m doing and going through.”
Surprise crossed her pretty features. “Everything?”
“I think so. I can feel his emotions.”
“Then you should be careful of discussing anything you don’t want him to find out,” Leandra advised. Her surprise turned to alarm, and the meaning behind her words shot through us both.
We couldn’t talk as we used to – about Theodocia or the insurgency or even the visions, if I didn’t want him to find out. If I’d struggled before, how was I going to deal with him now, when he had insight into everything I did or said?
“I’ll bring you some lunch,” Leandra said and rose. She strode to the door and left, leaving me alone with my scary thoughts.
Surely there had to be something I could do that Cleon wouldn’t see. Could he read my mind?
I sensed he didn’t yet have this capability, or his emotions responding to what I thought of him and my situation would probably be much more apparent. He had no problems seeing what I did, to include the images of memories that popped up in my head. Could I assume he was aware of only pictures, not thoughts?
I didn’t like this development at all.
My eyes fell to the names on the wall again. His positive emotion about the event that cemented his position at the top – and left over three thousand people dead – repulsed me.
At the familiar sound of shuffling, I looked around for the animated teddy bear from my past that Adonis had left with me.
“Mrs. Nettles?” I called softly.
The rustling came from beneath the chaise. I dropped to my knees and plucked the animal – a cross between a teddy bear and a cat I had created when I was five – from beneath the chaise.
Awake, she observed.
“I am,” I replied. “Were you hiding?”
She nodded, tugging at one of her oversized ears with her stubby arms. She purred like a cat and had the appearance of a stuffed koala bear. Whenever I saw her, I smiled, recalling when I’d brought her to life. Adonis had protected and cared for her for twelve years before she found her way back to me.
As a child, I’d understood more about how to use my power than I did now. Or maybe … I played with it, without the fear of unleashing the apocalypse.
“When I was little, I used to do amazing things, didn’t I?” I asked her.
She nodded again.
Cleon was intrigued.
I didn’t like the idea of him knowing what I was doing and being aware of how strong I became. But I didn’t see much of a choice, either. Whenever I started to back away from what I was supposed to be, the memorial wall reminded me of what happened if Cleon or I unleashed my power. The image of the world ending in flame and darkness challenged my desire to obey Cecelia and repress my power. I tried that approach for weeks, and it clearly didn’t work. Cleon was growing stronger, and I had to stay ahead somehow.
With unlimited power at my fingertips, I could also stop the apocalypse, if I understood better how to manage my power. Repressing it wasn’t going to give me that edge.
I set Mrs. Nettles down on the chaise and gazed around me at the ribbons hovering above and around the objects in my room. Mnemosyne, the goddess of memory, had explained to me in a vision of my past that I was able to create and destroy and manipulate the fabric of reality. I didn’t understand what that meant exactly, or how I could use my power without the kind of mass destruction I’d already exacted upon the city. Leandra and I had discovered I could animate objects better when I wasn’t thinking about them too hard, when my mind was either distracted or under the influence of alcohol.
Cecelia had instructed me about how to pay attention to the signs my magic was about to fly free of me, so I could stop from unintentional creation. The more I used it, the more it grew, which was bad, if I wanted to protect those around me.
As I stood in my room, contemplating how to stop the fate I’d seen, I began to think I suffered not from a lack of power, but a lack of imagination. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do or how I should try to do it. Herakles had taught me to be part of my world, to be aware of my physical self and capabilities at all times. He valued practicality over imagination, and I’d adapted his way of thinking.
What if I had to supplement what I’d been taught to believe about the world my whole life with something less tangible?
You aren’t ready yet to handle what comes. You MUST use your power in order to grow it. The voice originated from Mrs. Nettles. I had heard it once before, so I knew it didn�
��t belong to my animated stuffed animal but to the goddess temporarily possessing her. Do not view what’s before you as parts in a puzzle, but as a whole.
I glanced towards the teddy bear sitting on the chaise, watching me. I didn’t want to say her name aloud, in case Cleon caught on.
“I don’t understand,” I replied, heart quickening at the thought of speaking directly to this goddess, one of the two deities I was raised to respect and worship.
You would handle a piece of pie differently than you would a whole pie, wouldn’t you?
In my very limited interactions with gods and those touched by them, I’d discovered the divine to have a very unusual speech pattern. They didn’t seem to understand how to say something directly and spoke in circles. Even Adonis shared this trait most of the times, leaving me floundering in the space between what was spoken and what he intended.
When you destroyed the temple and the buildings, you didn’t manipulate them one by one, did you? She tried again.
“No,” I said aloud. I had grabbed the ribbons of everything for a five-block radius then crushed them.
See the whole, not the parts.
“But … I don’t want to use my power. What if I hurt someone?”
Your power can do only what you will it to. If you use it for good, then it will hurt no one.
“That’s kind of the opposite of what Cecelia says,” I hedged. “I’ve hurt enough people.”
Do you trust me? Artemis asked.
My pulse raced.
I have protected you your entire life. I stood beside your mother when she gave birth to you, and I will be with you when you defeat your enemies.
My face felt hot. Even the priests who raised me – and Herakles – had always assured me Artemis was the one goddess we all could trust, because she wanted what was best for humanity.
“Yes,” I said. “I trust you. I’ll do as you ask.” Even if it scared me. “How do I see the whole? I’m standing in the middle of the pie.”
Shift outside of it.