Cybermancy

by Kelly McCullough

  Excruciating seconds slid by with no sound other than Discord’s demonically inspired choice in elevator music. I’d have to think of some way to pay her back for that if I got out of this in one piece. That and the funny business with a door that closed for Megaera but not for me or Cerice. More time passed. What was taking so long?

  “Is this thing even moving?” squeaked Melchior, echoing my own thoughts.

  “It is,” said Alecto. “Though not very quickly.”

  “I think someone is deliberately tormenting her guests,” grumped Megaera.

  “I don’t know,” said Tisiphone. “I’m rather enjoying the ride, though my wings are a bit cramped.” She rolled her shoulders, which did interesting things to my view, then stepped forward a little so that I was suddenly sandwiched between her and Cerice.

  Some guys would have killed to be where I was right then, pressed tight between an incredibly sexy blonde and a smoking hot redhead, the latter naked. I would have killed to change places with any one of those guys. Especially when I felt a sharp heat against my groin and realized that it must be coming from Tisiphone’s literally flaming pubic hair. I wasn’t sure which was worse, the idea that my pants might actually catch fire or the fact that despite all the terrified gibbering going on in my forebrain, I could feel myself growing hard at the contact.

  Nor, if I was interpreting Tisiphone’s smile correctly, was I the only one who could feel my response. I’m not sure what would have happened next if the elevator door hadn’t picked that exact moment to open, but I was mighty pleased that I didn’t have to find out.

  “We’re here,” said Megaera, stepping backwards out of the elevator.

  “About time,” said Alecto, likewise leaving the elevator.

  “So soon?” said Tisiphone, and I felt her hand slide between us to squeeze me through the leather of my pants. “Pity.” Then she peeled herself away from my front and followed her sisters.

  I surreptitiously glanced down to see if my pants had taken any lasting harm from their encounter with Tisiphone’s fiery loins. It also gave me a chance to make sure my erection wasn’t too blatant. It wasn’t, and my pants appeared completely unharmed. At that, a part of my mind pointed out that the heat had never risen into the range of pain. That same part wanted to indulge in further speculation about the positive implications of fire that didn’t burn me and how it might apply to other activities involving closer contact between the regions in question. I brutally suppressed the thought, helped along when a none-too-gentle push against the base of my spine reminded me of Cerice’s presence and her probable take on any ideas I might have in that direction.

  “Were you planning on getting off the elevator?” she asked, her tone sharp. “Or did you just want to stay here and lean against me while you try to put your tongue back in your mouth?”

  I stepped smartly forward, then turned and bowed her out of the elevator. “After you, my lady.”

  She gave me a hard look. “Don’t think a sudden reversion to courtly manners is going to get you off the hook, boyo.”

  “Never,” I said, holding the bow. “But please keep in mind that I didn’t have a lot of room for maneuvering.”

  “That’s the only thing that’s keeping you from the top slot on my shit list.”

  “Are you children going to join us, or are you just going to hiss at each other in the elevator?” The voice was one hundred percent sex and completely poisonous. Eris.

  The goddess has sunk a considerable amount of power into sex appeal, and only Aphrodite can turn the heat up any further. The big difference is motive. Aphrodite is, well, Aphrodite. Sex and love are her thing. Eris, on the other hand, is all come-hither and no come-here. Like Artemis, she’s a virgin goddess. But her motives are very different. Eris wants you to die from desire, or better yet, kill for it. Strife is her business, though unlike her brother, Ares, she generally prefers it come at the personal level, dueling over war. Her carnal voice is a potent weapon in her arsenal of destruction, but thanks to an alliance we’d once had, she usually didn’t use it around me.

  Perhaps because I’d had more exposure to her since my conflict with Fate, or perhaps because I had Cerice there with me, it didn’t strike me as hard as it had the first time I’d heard it. Still, an erection that’d been wilting under the pressure of circumstance sprang back to full attention. I saw the voice hit Cerice, too, as the angry slits of her pupils opened into great black holes, and she involuntarily moistened her lips. For a long second she looked completely glazed, then she very deliberately shook her head and, after putting the goblins down, gave herself a sharp slap on the cheek.

  “Urgh,” she mumbled, and though her pupils remained huge, some semblance of reason returned to her expression. She looked me a question.

  “Always,” I said, raising my eyebrows in silent warning against Eris. “She’s always like this.”

  Bracing myself, I stepped out of the elevator into a large formal atrium. A window high in one wall allowed a shaft of light from the golden-apple sun of Castle Discord to shine down on Eris like a blessing from Apollo. She stood in the center of the room with the Furies off to her left. They seemed to have shrunk in stature, reduced somewhat from the terrifying creatures who had filled the elevator. But that was only by comparison. The Furies have chosen to size themselves as tall humans, preferring to let wings and claws drive home their difference and their divinity.

  Eris is taller, six-four or six-five without the stiletto heels she always wears. With them she’s very close to seven feet and every inch a goddess, or perhaps two. She looks different from second to second as the light plays across her, like taffeta. One moment her skin is an unearthly silver-black, the next twenty-four-karat gold, and both wildly and somehow inappropriately appealing. Her hair is sunlight and shadow, an ever-changing mix of raven and blond that spills halfway down her back. Her long, hard body is perfect. Not classical sculpture put-her-on-a-pedestal-and-worship-her-from-afar perfect, but I-know-what-I-want-for-my-birthday-and-she’s-it perfect. Her face is fine and aristocratic, imperious even, with high cheek-bones, a pert nose, pointed chin, and lush lips.

  Only her eyes repel. When she opens them, she opens a pair of gates into the Primal Chaos. Where flesh should be are twin windows on the ever-changing madness of color and turbulence that lies between the worlds. On her it simultaneously looks completely natural and utterly terrifying.

  She was dressed in black and gold as always. In this case, torn black jeans that exposed a lot of leg and a skintight yellow tank top. Her shoes were some sort of extremely fancy designer heels made out of what looked like fish skin with gold-edged black scales. She was apparently unarmed, but I knew from past experience that if she wanted a sword or a gun, it would simply appear in her hand and that she would be much better with them than I or any other mere demideity.

  She smiled when I emerged from the elevator and very deliberately and slowly ran her tongue around her lips. “Raven, darling, so nice to see you.”

  I shrugged it off. Well, part of me did anyway. Sure, there was a little bit of my back brain that was busily constructing scenes of wild abandon that involved Discord, Tisiphone, Cerice, and a really big bed; but the me that actually makes decisions very deliberately rolled my eyes. It was easier than I expected.

  “I thought we’d agreed that you weren’t going to play those games with me anymore,” I said. “And don’t call me Raven.”

  She shrugged. “Can’t blame me for trying, can you?” she asked, dropping the come-hither from her tone. “I’ve got to keep my hand in after all. Since what I call you and who you are have no relationship other than convenience, I’d be happy to call you Ravirn if you’d prefer, or Zeus for that matter.”

  “Let’s stick with Ravirn.” Her comment grated on my nerves, but hey, that’s her specialty, and I didn’t think she was going out of her way to hit me harder than anyone else. So call it a win for now.

  “Whatever you say, Raven dear.” She turned her at
tention away from me. “And this must be your charming lady, Cerice.”

  “Cerice it is,” she replied somewhat acidly, “though I’m no one’s lady but my own.”

  “Really,” said Eris, putting some sex back into her tone. “Would you like to be? I’ve got the perfect position for you.”

  Cerice shook the glaze off more quickly this time, and without the slap, but she did take a half step toward the goddess before she recalled herself. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass,” she said, her voice husky.

  “Can we skip the games?” said Megaera. “We’ve come for business.”

  “But I live for games,” replied Eris. “You do, too, though yours all end the same. With blood.”

  “Oh, they don’t always end in blood,” said Alecto. “The last time we saw you, they ended in chains, as I recall.” If she expected to get a rise out of Eris, she failed.

  “Very nice,” said Eris, making a parrying motion. “Touché, even.” Then she laughed, a sound filled with undertones of glass shattering. “I’m cut to the quick. Or not. You won the game that day, but the chains are gone and chaos is eternal.”

  “The chains are gone,” said Tisiphone, “because a sweet little bird cut you loose. Right, Raven?”

  “I’m not playing,” I said, though I did so very politely. “I am quite out of my depth in any exchange with you, your lovely siblings, or Discord.” I didn’t want to get involved with any animosity between Eris and the sisters of vengeance. I might be a fool from time to time, but I was not stupid.

  “Not as out of your depth as you might once have been,” said Tisiphone. “Not nearly.”

  “Don’t encourage him,” said Alecto.

  “He’s meat,” said Megaera. “Not worth wasting words.”

  “But such pretty meat,” said Tisiphone, openly appraising me. “A tender cut.”

  “Back off, Coppertop,” said Cerice, stepping between me and the Fury.

  “Growr!” Tisiphone made a clawing motion. “Very fierce. But weren’t you the one who was just saying she was no one’s lady? If you won’t admit a claim, what makes you think you can stake one?”

  “Can we get back to business?” asked Alecto, with a sigh.

  “I don’t know.” Eris looked back and forth between Cerice and Tisiphone. “This is developing into my kind of entertainment. Do we have to?”

  “We do,” said Megaera, throwing a gesture that took in her sisters. “And it would make things simpler if you would join us in that.”

  “But why ever would I want to make things simpler?” asked Eris, her tone apparently guileless—and, I suspected, sincere.

  “Because Necessity asks it.” Tisiphone smiled and bat-ted her eyes at Eris.

  “Oh.” Eris’s demeanor changed instantly from playful to completely serious. “In that case . . .”

  She shrugged, and the jeans and tank top had gone, replaced by a very neatly tailored business suit. In that same instant the atrium we had all been standing in disappeared as though it had never been. In its place was a long wood-paneled boardroom with a huge black glass table running down its center. Only the golden apple of the sun shining through the window behind Eris remained as a reminder of the old room. Big executive-style leather chairs now stood waiting behind each of us. The three for the Furies had stick-thin backs that flared out at headrest height to accommodate their wings. The pair that had been provided for Melchior and Shara were extratall with built-in footrests and appropriately sized seats and arms.

  “I was hoping she’d forgotten us,” Melchior said resignedly as he climbed into his.

  “I never forget anyone,” said Eris, “though I do pretend to if I think it might irritate them enough.” She blew him a kiss, and he sank even lower in his chair. “So, what brings you all to Chez Discord?” She had placed herself at one end of the table with the Furies at the other, and she directed the question their way. “Your agenda is my agenda.”

  In front of each of our places a sheet of neat paper appeared. At the top was the heading AGENDA FOR MEETING YOURS.

  “Cute,” said Tisiphone, and cute wrote itself on the page in letters of fire.

  “Oh please,” said Megaera, and oh please appeared in green ink below cute.

  “Enough,” said Alecto, and even as it was writing itself on the paper, she flapped her wings, sending the sheets spinning to the floor.

  “You people are just no fun,” said Eris. “But if you’re really here on Necessity’s business, I suppose I’d better indulge you.” The fallen papers vanished. “So what do you want?”

  “Something’s wrong with the mweb,” said Megaera, giving Eris a hard look.

  “Very wrong,” agreed Alecto. “The resource forks are being corrupted. It smells of chaos.”

  “Necessity doesn’t like that,” said Tisiphone, “and you really don’t want to see her angry.”

  “No,” said Eris. “I do not. Which is one reason why I never mess around with the mweb.”

  “You meddled in the Fate Core,” said Megaera.

  “That’s well within my purview,” she answered. “Especially under the circumstances. Necessity herself agreed on that once Raven’s little teddy bear brought it to her attention.”

  “I’m not a ted—” Melchior began hotly. Then, apparently realizing that he was drawing attention, he shut his mouth sharply.

  “Point taken,” said Alecto, “both by us and our . . . mother.”

  So, Necessity was actively listening in. At least that’s what I assumed she meant. I guessed by Eris’s momentarily sour expression that she thought the same. I tried to catch Cerice’s eye to mime a question, but she was too busy glaring at Tisiphone to pay me any attention.

  “There’s really no need for such threats,” said Eris.

  “Furies never threaten,” said Tisiphone, with a smile. “We only make promises.”

  “Charming,” said Eris, her voice filled with crackling ice. “Does all this have a point?”

  “It does indeed,” said Megaera.

  “A very sharp one,” interjected Tisiphone.

  “And that’s this,” said Alecto, as sober as her granite skin. “Necessity is unhappy with the circumstances. As yet she has no reason to suspect you.”

  “As yet,” said Tisiphone. “But that could change.” She held her hands up in a balancing gesture.

  “It would please her if you’d do something a bit more active than just denying your involvement with the current situation,” said Megaera.

  “Like what?” asked Eris.

  “You are the goddess of hackers,” said Alecto. “Find out what’s going on.”

  “Fix it,” said Megaera.

  “Or point us in the right direction for a little troubleshooting ,” said Tisiphone, miming a gunslinger’s quick draw and snap shot.

  “I’ve tried once or twice already,” said Eris, seemingly grudgingly. “I haven’t had any success.”

  “Try again,” said Alecto.

  “Try harder,” growled Megaera.

  “And remember,” said Tisiphone, “Necessity is the mother of invention.”

  With that the Furies rose from their seats and headed for the door, filing out one by one. As she turned to let it close behind her, Tisiphone caught my eye, smiled, and winked. Then they were gone. The door hung half-open for a long moment, then closed with a thud. For a few seconds longer we all sat in silence.

  “She’s a mother all right,” said Eris, and the chaos in her eyes tumbled more wildly than ever.

  She brought her hand down on the table in what looked like the gentlest of pats. It shattered with a terrible sound, one that merged with Eris’s sudden laugh as she leaped to her feet. It was not a wasn’t-that-funny laugh, more of an evil-genius-plotting-her-revenge cackle.

  “I wonder if they’re leaning on the Fates and other players that hard?” she asked aloud. Then, spinning on her heel, she fixed her dreadful gaze on me. “What in nine kinds of hell are you up to this time, boy?”

  “
Me?” I asked, taken aback.

  “Yes, you, Raven. I’m not the only one who leaves a signature of chaos when I work.”

  “What? Why me? Why not Tyche?”

  “Because our Dame Fortune is a nincompoop. Tyche doesn’t know the RAM of Random Access Memory from the sacrificial kind whose entrails she reads. If she weren’t the Goddess of Luck, she’d have knocked herself out of the great game ages ago. But for her something always turns up. You, on the other hand, are the pantheon’s newest gift to cracking and hacking. And since I didn’t do it . . .”

  “You’re out of your mind,” I said. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “Am I really?” said Eris. “Then swear on your blood and your precious honor that you had nothing to do with the virus that is now eating away at the very web that holds the worlds together. I dare you.”