Muse Unexpected

by V. C. Birlidis

  Through the iron gates, Sophie saw a large cobblestoned courtyard covered in climbing roses and wild jasmine. The fragrance of the flowers mingled with boxwood bushes, tall Italian cypresses, baking bread and brewed spice tea.

  “This is where I leave you,” Aletheria said, as the scarves erased themselves off the girls' heads. “Neither I, nor anyone else, can cross into their villa without being invited. The ladies and I haven’t always been on the best of terms. My very existence is an exception to their rules and they hate any exceptions. However, I will be here promptly at three to pick you up. Remember what we’ve told you and you’ll be okay. Unfortunately, when it comes to those three, our hands are tied.”

  Aletheria started her car again and with a squeal of her wheels drove away, taunting some young men working in the garden.

  Sophie eyed Angela and thought that this was a situation where having a Gorgonian best friend was a good thing. She offered Angela a nervous, but optimistic thumbs-up.

  “Let’s do it,” she said as she reached over to pull the bell string. A villa door located at the back of the garden opened and three women stepped out. She wasn’t sure what to expect from three of the most powerful gods in history, but these three were a pleasant surprise.

  “Sophie, honey.” The tallest of the three called out to her in a heavy, gravelly Brooklyn accent. She wore a navy and white polyester pantsuit and her wrinkled face bore a lot of powder and blush, along with blood red lipstick. She threw open the gates. “So glad to meet you. My name is Rose.”

  The second woman was shorter and slighter, and had the appearance of being a grandmother out of the English countryside. She wore a comfortable flower print dress with a garden smock over it. She fumbled with the ties of her coveralls. Reading glasses were perched on the bridge of her button nose and Sophie found her comforting. Everything about the woman said Granny.

  “Don’t be rude,” the woman chastised Rose with an upper-crust English accent. “Acknowledge both of our guests.” She smiled at Angela. “Hello, my name is Agatha. So glad you could make it out for the afternoon.” She shook Angela’s hand and led her into the garden. “You’ll be surprised to hear that I know your mother. She is such a charming woman. I even have a piece of needlepoint she gave me one Christmas many years ago. I’ll have to show it to you. Such an attention to detail.”

  The third woman was the shortest of the three, albeit the largest in girth. Her skin was brown and she was dressed in what appeared to be her Sunday best. The navy suit was tailored to fit her wide frame and showcase what appeared to be her best physical assets—an almost comically large bosom and a robust rear end. She hit Sophie on the top of her head with her shiny white leather purse, which swung out of control as she shut the gates behind her.

  “Sorry, Sophie. Did I hit you, child? By the way, my name is Cleo. It is going to be hotter than Hades today, so we’ll be taking tea indoors,” Cleo said, hooking her arm into Sophie’s and directing the girl indoors.

  “It’s called alfresco, Cleo,” Rose corrected.

  “I don’t care what you call it, Rose, ‘cause I am not sweating in my good dress. You know how I get when I’m overheated,” Cleo said. “It’s my blood sugar, honey. All over the place and I can become very testy.”

  “Well,” Sophie said with a nervous smile. “We wouldn’t want that.”

  “No need to whisper, Cleo. Everyone knows about your blood sugar.” Rose shouted over her shoulder. “It’s all you ever talk about.”

  Sophie and Angela were ushered into a large comfortable room with tufted couches and chairs. Worn floral prints of all different types clashed with each other and Sophie thought it resembled the mismatched furniture her high school used in all of their theater productions. The couch in the Diary of Anne Frank had also made an appearance in the production of Barefoot in the Park.

  Rose gestured for the two girls to sit down in a loveseat with a cabbage-rose pattern and a ruffled dust skirt. Several dust bunnies lingered in the corners of the room and Agatha apologized, acknowledging today was the cleaning lady’s day off. Sophie noted the elaborate silver tea service hadn’t suffered from a lack of polishing and hot steam poured out of the largest pot.

  Agatha positioned herself as hostess and began asking preferences regarding tea. After everyone was served, the group of women settled down for a quiet afternoon chat.

  Rose sat in an armchair next to a small end-table, where she had her I Love New York ashtray and unfiltered cigarettes. She opened a small drawer and pulled out an airplane-sized bottle of brandy and poured a swig into her cup. Agatha grimaced in disapproval and turned her attention back to her guests, but not before Rose had taken a sip of her freshened-up tea and smacked her lips in delight.

  “I am so glad you could make the time for a visit,” Agatha said as she began working on a piece of needlework. “We three are often so engrossed in our work that we hardly have enough time to interact with each other, let alone others outside of our villa. Isn’t that right, Cleo?”

  Cleo looked up, a large slice of bread in one hand and her teacup in the other. She put down her items and lifted her napkin to her lips to wipe jam from her upper lip and swallow the large piece of bread still in her mouth. “You have testified to the complete and utter truth, Aggie,” she said. “Honey, if you only knew the requirements placed on goddesses like us. It’s exhausting.” Cleo glanced at the grandfather clock at the far end of the room, and opened her large white purse. She pulled out an empty spindle and began spooling golden thread onto it. The Fate reached over and took a sip of tea and grimaced. “Please pass the sugar bowl, darling,” she said to Angela. “Agatha always makes her tea so strong and I have to watch my blood sugar. It’s all over the place."

  “Now, I’m not saying we don’t have our slow periods,” Cleo continued, “but vacations are often cancelled if there is a war going on. Without us creating the threads of life, measuring them to the precise length the Divine has allotted for each and then cutting threads from the fabric,” she said, while removing her hat at the same time, “life as we know it would stop. It can run an old lady down. Of course you two young people don’t have to worry about such things, at least for right now.”

  Sophie shifted in her seat as Cleo’s emphasis on ‘worry’ and ‘right now’ made her feel uncomfortable.

  “Confidentially, I don’t like to think about the last part.” Cleo said. “The cutting, I mean. It’s so final and serious. But then, I don’t have to worry about the cutting since I am responsible for the making of a life’s thread.”

  “And I’m responsible for the measuring of a life’s thread. Rose, please, my eyes are so tired today,” said Agatha, sticking her needle into her needlepoint border. She handed it over to Rose who took out a small pair of golden scissors and cut the thread connecting the needle to the cloth. Sophie winced as the sharp scissors snapped the thread. In that moment, she was sure she had heard a soft, high-pitched wail. She hoped the scissors just needed oiling. Sophie didn’t bother to ask what role Rose played in the life process.

  “So—” Angela offered, attempting to change the subject. “As you mentioned, you are very busy and we wouldn’t want to take up too much of your time. You wanted to see Sophie.”

  “Yes,” Sophie offered. “What is it I can do for you?”

  As soon as the words left her mouth, Sophie knew she had made a grave mistake.

  Rose turned her head and blew a big puff of smoke into the air. She offered Sophie a somewhat grotesque mockery of a smile, the woman’s blood red lips parting, revealing her tobacco-stained teeth.

  “Well, since you were so kind and generous to ask,” Rose said, taking no pains to hide her desire to come to the point as she brushed the wayward ashes off the top of the side table. “We have heard Georgia is having a major event to introduce you to the other Eight Vasilikós. We would like to be included in the celebration. We would like an invitation to the event.”

  Sophie watched as the three women stare
d at her on the edge of their seats, waiting for her answer. Rose must think I am so stupid to not pick up on the fact that the Fates are up to something.

  “I was told by my mother the Fates tend to shun Vasilikós events,” Sophie began. “Except for the Mid-Summer Wine Ceremony, of course, when we present you with the special wine created from Georgia’s vines. It’s my understanding this wine restores your powers for another year. Why would you be interested in something as insignificant as a ball?”

  Rose’s smiled changed as she gritted her teeth. “You know, little one, there are two things I don’t like to be reminded of. One has to do with my spaghetti sauce and how some people in this house, who will remain nameless, think that because I start with Mrs. Angelino’s spaghetti sauce as a base I shouldn’t refer to my sauce as homemade. This argument never fails to put me in a foul mood. The other thing that pisses me off is the slightest mention of my dependence on the Muses. However, you are correct. The idea of wasting an evening with Georgia is something I usually won’t entertain. I would strongly suggest that whomever gave you those little tidbits about us should stress to you it is impolite to discuss it openly.”

  “Rose.” Agatha warned. “Put your shears away.”

  Sophie noticed Rose absentmindedly opening and closing the golden scissors.

  “Before you do something we will all regret,” Agatha said.

  Rose froze and deposited her shears into her side table. “My apologies, girls,” Rose said. “I’ve been foolish. I guess today is one of those days where I live up to my reputation of being a real witch.”

  There were a few beats of silence and then Cleo, Agatha and Rose laughed heartily.

  Sophie didn’t feel like laughing, but did her best to fake it and nudged Angela to do the same.

  “In all seriousness,” Agatha said. “We have to be at that party. When we say it’s written in the stars, it is written in the stars. I won’t explain, because as I’m sure you were told, information comes at a price when it comes from us.”

  “Oh Aggie, you aren’t any fun.” Cleo said. “Give her a little something, for old time’s sake.”

  “No.” Sophie said, jumping up and signaling Angela it was time to go. “We’ll wait outside in the garden until our ride arrives, in another two hours.”

  “You’re mistaken,” Rose said, lighting up another cigarette. “You’ve been here for over four hours. Your ride, the book worm, has been waiting for the last hour.”

  Sophie stared at her watch and stared at it. She was sure they had just arrived. She took a sip of her tea to prove herself right, expecting it to still be hot, but it wasn’t. It was stone cold.

  Sophie panicked, wanting to leave even more than before. “We’ve taken up way too much of your time. My sincerest apologies.”

  “No need to apologize, Sophie,” Rose said. “We’re always so glad to have visitors and you must come again real soon.”

  “Of course,” Angela said, as Sophie pulled her out of the room.

  “I’ll have Georgia send you the invitations,” Sophie explained. “She was planning on a late summer, early fall event.”

  “Well, my dear,” Rose said, stopping them in their tracks as she flicked a piece of tobacco from her tongue. “You’ll have to tell Georgia her plans have changed. Tell her you’ve invited us to the event and agreed to change the date.”

  Sophie whipped around and stared open-mouthed at the three women who stood smiling back at her. Those aren’t sweet grannies. They’re sharks and I’m a bleeding swimmer.

  “What date are you suggesting?” Sophie said.

  “Don’t you remember, dear?” Rose said, her placid face frozen in a wide grin. Her red lips were bordering on grotesque and her face was more harsh than pleasant. “During our wonderful discussion about the Mid-Summer Wine Ceremony, we all agreed we should combine the events.”

  The slight tan Sophie had acquired over the summer drained from her face. She saw a few of Angela’s dreads hiss and retreat behind her neck.

  “But…I didn’t…” Sophie sputtered.

  “We’ll see you in a month,” Rose said. “If Georgia has a problem, you have her give me call.”

  The three Fates moved away, leaving Sophie standing next to Angela. They turned their backs on the girls, sat back down in the same chairs and returned to their work. Cleo made the thread and Agatha measured it. Before Sophie had the chance to hear the awful little high-pitched sound when Rose cut the thread, she grabbed Angela and rushed out of the villa. Angela jumped into the backseat as Sophie shut the door on her skirt. Aletheria floored the gas, sending a large dust cloud into the Fates’ courtyard. They drove past several workmen, who were repairing a section of wall with a blackened and charred hole in it. The words filthy Nothos were painted in red beside the hole.

  Chapter 24

  Georgia knew something was wrong. She could feel it deep in her bones. She suspected the Fates were up to something and it frustrated her not knowing. For the last few hours she'd sat at the large farmhouse kitchen table fretting. She loved the centuries-old table with its huge hand-carved legs. She even loved how worn and gouged the top was. She often came into the kitchen to help Winnie and her team of Hobs shell peas or cut vegetables. It was her way of taking a few moments to escape her daily life and its never-ending demands on her.

  Winnie was buzzing around beginning dinner preparation. She announced to Georgia they would be eating roasted chicken with rosemary potatoes, buttered green beans with garlic, a garden salad and chocolate layer cake for desert. The cake had been baking for about an hour and Georgia was enjoying the delicious aroma.

  “You’re frettin’, Georgia,” Winnie said as she pulled open a big sack of potatoes and threw them, one by one, into the sink. “Frettin’ will get you nowhere.”

  “I know,” Georgia said and frowned. “Do you need help with those potatoes?”

  Winnie rolled her eyes as she stood on the step stool in front of the sink. “Grab a knife.”

  Winnie eyed Georgia. “You know, I’ve never been a Hob to meddle in anyone’s family situations.”

  Georgia laughed. “That’s all you do, Winnie. You order me around like you are head of this Vasilikós.”

  “Well…” Winnie said. “Sometimes even the likes of needs a swift kick in the tush.”

  “I suppose you’re right, although, don’t ever tell anyone I said that. I’ll deny it.”

  Winnie threw a few potatoes into the water and started on another. “Cut the pieces thicker, Georgia. Otherwise, they won’t brown correctly,” Winnie corrected and Georgia nodded.

  “I know what you’re about to say, Winnie. You’ve been fretting about it for the past few weeks.”

  Winnie frowned. “I was just going to say how lovely Sophie looked. That’s all. You were smart in procurin’ Angela as part of your Vasilikós.”

  “Angela is a good girl,” Georgia said. “And I knew Sophia would need a friend.”

  “I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that the girl is part Gorgon, with a huge dash of powerful witch. Few would dare challenge her. Even a Fallen One knows not to push one of those too far.”

  “You didn’t expect me to allow my granddaughter to wander around helpless, did you? Two birds, one stone.” Georgia scrubbed a large potato. “Come out with it, Winnie. You’re holding back.”

  “You’re bein’ too hard on the girl and you’re being terrible to Callie. Poor woman just lost her husband and the child is now faced with all of this Fallen One nonsense. Let me also remind you the girl just lost her father and has gone through a major change. She didn’t expect to be mortal one day and a Demigod the next. Push. That’s all you ever do to that poor girl.”

  “The child’s lack of preparation was her mother’s fault,” Georgia said. “If I don’t push the girl, who will? She must rise to meet my expectations.”

  “Oh, you’re expectations, is it. Well…well, I guess we all better get our arses in line with your expectations. Don’t you be takin’ any
sort of mighty tone with me, Georgia. I’ve known you long enough to know you’re steppin into the marsh and not on dry ground. You’ll sink if you’re not careful.”

  Georgia didn’t respond. She sighed and plopped another potato into the water.

  “All I am saying is that you can’t plan for everythin’ and you’re foolin’ yourself if you believe you can control that young girl,” said Winnie. “I think you’ve forgotten what it was like to be a mother and you have no idea how to be a grandmother. She’s just a child. Don’t forget when dealing with a child you have to be patient.” Winnie took a sniff and glanced over at the oven. “Be a love and take the cake out of the oven.”

  Georgia stabbed her knife into the potato she was working on and placed it down on the cutting board. “What would you do without me to help you, Winnie?”

  “Oh yes,” Winnie said with an air of sarcasm as she threw down another finished potato. “Thank goodness you’re around. I wouldn’t know when I needed to wipe me bum without you to remind me to do it.”

  Georgia heard someone enter the kitchen and turned to see Sophie and Angela walking in, followed by Callie. As she listened to the details of their visit, Georgia flew into a fury.

  “What do you mean a change of date? That event isn’t some barbecue we can move at a moment’s notice. Why did you promise anything to those women?” Georgia said through gritted teeth.

  I am so disgusted with you, I could just scream. You stand there, girl, cowering like a wounded animal. How could such a weak woman come from my bloodline?

  “She technically didn’t agree to anything,” Angela said.

  “What, may I ask, does technically mean?” Georgia said, turning her attention to the Gorgonian.