West Pacific Supers: Rising Tide
Page 45
There was a flash of light.
She dropped to the ground in a human form. She decided to leave out the wings that she used to have, because they were more annoying than anything else. She also decided to go with the naked arrival – it always stunned human males. She went for pale skin, long dark hair, dark eyes, and as appealing of a body as possible, though she tried not to overdo it.
There were two human males standing before her. She was perched on a platform with staircases about. The lights were dim, but clearly electrical – which bespoke sophisticated technology. It was an odd place, but her prison apparently had been given a position of prominence in the facility. She peered at the two human males. Both were dressed all in black. One carried a pistol in a holster, a weapon of some sort, though gunpowder-based. The other was the wizard. He was carrying an old book and an odd collection of bones and crystals. Nike hated magic. It was overly complicated, but she knew enough to know that this was the human who had broken the enchantment holding her. Both of the males had dropped their jaws; the one with the gun was actually drooling. Nike quickly checked to make sure she had all the right body parts, the last thing she wanted was to start a religion which depicted her with three breasts or something. It happened more often than not. Her form would become fixed, more or less, by the minds of those around her. It was a weakness, but adulation always had a price.
She focused on the words she had heard and used her mind to attune herself to this language. It was a new one; a great amount of time must have passed. “I am Nike. I am the Goddess of Victory. I thank you for freeing me from my prison. For this I will grant you each a wish, but first tell me your names.”
She hoped they didn’t ask for sex. It was such a messy human activity, but then again it was fairly easy to handle – it would be over in an hour. However, it could produce offspring; she wasn’t sure how that happened and she suspected it was a joke by one of the Old Ones during the journey to Earth when most of them slumbered. Then again by this stage of development, humans probably had developed birth control, though with her luck she would have some spoiled demigod pop out of her skull or something.
The wizard spoke first. “Ah, I dreamed that you would be freed…I…I want to be the greatest wizard on Earth…oh, my name is Brennan.”
Magic, why did it have to be magic, thought Nike. She was also curious about the dreams, which probably meant that someone used Brennan to free her. That was interesting, but best to pretend to be as omniscient as possible for now. “Yes, it is possible Brennan, the path of greatness hangs upon you like garlands and there are seven steps to becoming the greatest magician in the world. First we must find the Golden Fleece.” That was just a delaying tactic. The Golden Fleece was a gimmick of the gods like the Golden Apples, useful to keep humans running around in circles. Hopefully, he didn’t actually have the Golden Fleece, but judging by his expression Nike figured she was safe and had bought herself some time. She was also glad that she had decided to go for seven steps instead of 12 as she suspected Brennan would have cried if she had said 12. He looked like he expected her to make him a great wizard with the wave of her hand; this was clearly a lazy era of development for humans.
She turned to the other male whose eyes were stuck on her breasts and lower, which she took as both a compliment and also a sign that this human was on the low-end of the evolutionary scale for the species. She sensed something odd about him. If she didn’t know better she would think he was a demigod, a human with divine blood. She decided to wait for him to speak, the less she said, the more mysterious she would appear.
“I’m Cavendish, Marcus Cavendish. I want to rule the world,” he said confidently.
Better that than sex, she thought, but he was definitely not world-conquering material. She figured she should counter offer. “If you reach for the world you will lose everything, but I can help you conquer a single country for your own. It will not be easy, but it is possible.”
“Okay, I want to rule the United States of America,” said Marcus.
Nike considered him. Clearly, the United States of America was a major power, but it was United States… maybe a democracy. That would actually be pretty easy; you didn’t need to be competent to take over a democracy, just charismatic. “Yes, that can be done, but it will not be easy and you must be patient and do everything I command. First, we must acquire for you the Tongue of the Muses.” Marcus snickered at that.
Nike ignored him and looked about the room. It was a beautiful location for her prison, which she suspected had been a statue. Circe had probably used some sort of petrification and essence-binding spell on her. Not bad at all for a demigod.
“Damn it! The alarms have gone off!” said Cavendish. “Your invisibility spell must have ended! Guards are coming!”
Brennan looked panicked. “When the spell on the statue broke, it probably dispelled my enchantments! We need to get out of here!”
“Calmly,” said Nike. She looked up and saw the skylight. That was the obvious exit for them, which meant she would have to fly them out of here.
“They’re about to turn the corner. There are two of them,” said Cavendish, looking down a stairwell and pulling out his gun. Nike was impressed. His senses were superior to hers. He could see through walls and likely hear that which she could not hear. He was a demigod. Hercules was an idiot too, so there was precedence.
“Use your gun when they turn the corner,” said Nike calmly.
Cavendish swallowed and pointed his gun. The two guards turned the corner and he fired twice. Each shot hit one of their legs and dropped them. His jaw dropped.
“You have victory on your side,” said Nike. She could have helped him kill them, but wounded enemies were always best; it demoralized the enemy and drained their resources to have to carry them. She would rather have a hundred enemies crippled than five hundred killed.
She pointed at the skylight and lightning arced from her hand and blew apart the glass. She closed her eyes and then wings appeared on her back; she grabbed Brennan and Cavendish and flew through the opening. She soared away from the Louvre and soon saw Paris alit at night. “This is a beautiful city,” she commented quietly. There were some advantages of dealing with more modern societies.
“It’s Paris, we’re in France, but we’re from America,” said Brennan whose eyes were wide in fear, looking down from their dizzying height.
Nike was disappointed that they hadn’t wanted to conquer France, but she hoped that this United States of America was equally as impressive. “Am I as adored as I was in centuries past?” she asked.
“Well, not really,” said Brennan. “None of the Greek Gods are worshipped anymore, well, maybe by some Wiccans I guess.”
“So I have been forgotten?” She already knew the answer. There were no prayers on the winds for her blessing, but hopefully that would change.
“There’s a really big shoe company named after you,” said Cavendish. “But could we get down now? We parked over there.”
Nike landed next to a small van. She was disappointed that a shoe company was her legacy; she had hoped for a major weapons manufacturer or something interesting. However, she suspected they probably produced shoes for athletes and that wasn’t bad. It was a start at least.
“Do either of you know of a sorceress named Circe?” asked Nike.
“Like from Homer’s Odyssey?” asked Brennan whose eyes were drifting down from her face. She realized she needed clothes. Fortunately, Cavendish was actually pulling out some clothes from the van for her.
“Yes, is she still alive?” She doubted it. Circe was only a demigod, but it was still a possibility. She started putting on the clothes, which probably belonged to one of them as they were too big. She could create an illusion of clothing, but figured it was best to keep as many of her powers as secret as possible for now.
“I don’t think so, but there was a sorceress named Circe who used to be with West Pacific Supers,” said Brennan. “She retired a few years
ago, but I doubt she’s the same one.”
Nike instantly knew the truth: that Circe and her Circe were indeed one and the same. That changed everything. “I’ll need real clothes and the best.”
“I guess that’s Champs-Élysées, but we’re short on cash,” said Brennan.
“That’s not a problem. I assume there are games of chance still around?” asked Nike.
“Yes, there are,” said Cavendish excitedly. “You can’t lose, right?”
“I always win, but sometimes a win is a loss,” said Nike ruefully. She savored the thought that her fight with Circe wasn’t over yet and she still might keep her winning streak alive.
“So where’s the Golden Fleece?” asked Brennan.
Nike appreciated his focus, but decided it was time to start moving things in a direction more under her control. “It’s in West Pacific actually, which is fortuitous for all of us.”
“So we’re going to West Pacific?” asked Cavendish.
“Yes, after some games and shopping,” said Nike. “Victory has returned.”
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
K.M. Johnson-Weider has published two books in the West Pacific Supers series of superhero novels, Rising Tide and Victory at Any Cost, as well as Black Throne Conspiracy, an entirely new novel set in the Ascension Galaxy, where future tech mixes with ancient magics, political intrigue, and brutally ambitious noble houses. Future planned releases include the next book in the West Pacific Supers series, President’s Team, a duet roleplaying book, and a fantasy novel set in the early history of the Ascension Galaxy.
To keep up with future developments:
Blue Moon Aurora, LLC:
www.bluemoonaurora.com
West Pacific Supers:
http://www.westpacificsupers.com
K.M. Johnson-Weider Goodreads profile
Twitter: @Bluemoonaurora
Also by K.M. Johnson-Weider for Kindle:
Black Throne Conspiracy
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