by LJ Vickery
“Shut up, Anshar.” Marduk hadn’t actually thought this through. This was the first human contact for any of his group in more than 350 years. Sure, they had mingled, invisible, with people during their bodily exile, keeping up to date on language, styles, and technology, but it wasn’t as if he had actually talked to anyone during that time…except maybe the guy he’d threatened a few minutes ago on the sidewalk. But Marduk had yelled at him, which came easily for a thunder god. Now he had to attempt a normal conversation.
“I’m going to enter and converse with the human. How does this sound?” he posed the question to Anshar, and his voice rolled out with a loud, vicious rumble.
“It sounds like thunder, dick head.” The sky god shook with mirth at Marduk’s consternation. “You’re going to scare her with that shit-for-gravel sound coming out of your mouth.” He calmed his laughter and took pity on his friend. “All right, all right. Try for something less like storm and more like light rain.”
Marduk conjured up an image of gentle mist and tried his vocal chords again. “How do I sound now?” he asked.
“Pretty as a friggin’ feather, ya pansy!” The guy with a hard hat behind him was clearly disgruntled that Marduk was blocking the entrance. “Either go through the door, or get outta my way.” Marduk quickly moved aside and looked over at Anshar who was once again convulsed with laughter.
“You should see the look on your face…” his friend howled, “…you freakin’ pansy!”
Marduk didn’t make the mistake of speaking again, but simply glared his displeasure at his companion, looking like he wanted to rip someone’s face off. This caused a few would-be patrons to move on to an alternate feeding spot.
Anshar cut him some slack. “Okay, okay. Your voice was fine that time. Just keep the volume low and you shouldn’t scare the shit out of her too badly.”
Marduk expelled an anxious breath and reached for the door handle. He needed to use all of his godly restraint and command to be friendly, lull her into trusting him before he kidnapped her and found out what kind of powers she possessed. His lips curled back. He would succeed. The stakes were too high not to discover why this woman had the capability of changing him into a solid form.
To say that Marduk had been worried since the dawn of the manufacturing age was an understatement. Humans had rapidly been changing the environment over the past hundred years, and not in a good way. The gods had always been able to keep nature in balance, but without human synergy, he and his companions were ever closer to reverting to their barbaric elemental beginnings.
This boded ill for them, and even worse for the world that was experiencing changing weather patterns, more violent storms, and the inevitable downward spiral in the fertility of the earth that sustained them all.
Gaining their bodies would stabilize their emotions and allow their continued benevolent dominion over the world. This little mortal could very well be the key. The gods had been impotent for far too long.
Chapter Two
For 384 years, since Myles Standish of Plymouth had invaded the prosperous colony of Thomas Morton at Merrymount, thirteen gods, acting as indentured servants to the good man, had lost their corporeal being. The “why” of it had long been a puzzle amongst their group. They had searched, since their downfall, for an answer that would free them from their virtual prison.
Soon after Morton’s capture, the gods had faded from sight, losing the bodies that they had happily inhabited during their master’s tenure. The situation had been dire, but instead of panicking, even in their invisibility, they had resorted to planning. They had carved out a place for themselves in the nearby Blue Hills, a sanctuary in the bustle of humanity already springing up around the area, building a palace in the dense forest that was visible only to them. It was a magnificent structure…and it was home.
Now, after hundreds of years, the exterior of their long-term abode, originally white stucco, had mellowed to a deep bronze, making the house shimmer like a precious jewel. Red shutters surrounded each window and matching clay roof tiles topped it with an old world elegance. The whole was encompassed by stone terraces, elegant fountains and mature trees that lent a cooling shade to the massive yard. The gods had cloaked it with nature’s elements, and rendered it imperceptible to all outsiders.
Inside, the front foyer soared high, capped by a stained glass dome which filtered blue and green light onto the marble floor. Brightly colored tapestries hung on the surrounding walls, and the well-loved upholstered divans beckoned to be used. A grand sweeping staircase rose to the right, leading to the upper level, the banister a highly polished wooden serpent that still shined as if new.
The first floor boasted a luxurious kitchen that had been updated every ten years to keep abreast of advancements in appliances (even though none of the inhabitants ever cooked or ate). A state-of-the-art living area was adjacent. One wall boasted the latest in big screen, HD technology. It was clearly a masculine room and well loved.
Down a long hallway, a “situation” room had come into being only twenty-five years earlier, fascinating most of the gods by allowing them access to the global environment through the magic of computers. This was where the god Shamash ruled. He had historically been the all-seeing god, but with the help of the Internet he was a freaking genius.
Between manipulation and a little mind control, the group had for hundreds of years maintained bank accounts and post office boxes, but now things were far easier for the invisible beings using on-line services.
Upstairs lay a sprawling mass of suites. Kulla, the architect of the gods, had made sure that each immortal had his own private space and, when the advent of bathrooms occurred at the turn of the twentieth century, every one of them gained this elegant addition to their bedroom. Walk-in-closet-size shower stalls now sported stone tiles and multiple shower heads, not to mention separate raised platform tubs that graced each space.
As much as the computer and media rooms held the gods rapt, by far the most used space in the house was the exercise room. Located at the heart of the mansion, each god had an individual area within the gym, holding their own custom made benches and weights, not to mention the addition of every new machine that hit the market.
Every one of the immortal residents was bronzed, fit, and honed for fighting, but never in 384 years, had one of them bled or felt pain. When they had become invisible, all tactile sensation ceased. It was a loss they lamented greatly.
Centuries had passed, and they despaired ever to feel the earth beneath their feet again. They could still touch things, move objects, interact with nature and their surroundings. They “acquired” things simply by connecting with their will and rendering an item invisible, thus building their home and filling it with all the human trappings for comfort.
Early on, they had hashed out what they fondly referred to as the “Rules of Acquisition.” On the list, which was now affixed to the refrigerator, rule number one stated: People can’t be acquired. A couple of years ago, some joker had predicated this with a frowny face in sharpie, which inadvertently caused them all to sadden immeasurably every time it caught their eye.
The rest of the list was less emotional and more pragmatic.
#2: If you touch it with purpose, you take it.
#3: No taking from nice people without paying.
#4: Things can, with purpose, be made visible again and returned.
#5: Do not take things when humans are watching.
The rules were fairly simple and all were judiciously followed except for number five, which was a source of great amusement for a few of the gods when bored. Luckily, this crime was usually followed by rule number four, and humans were good at making up excuses for things disappearing when their stuff reappeared fairly quickly.
The hardest thing for all of them was the absence of women. As a group, they had never been the most celibate of beings, allowing themselves, while under the rule of Thomas Morton, to sample the charms offered by the obliging local women
. Now, eons later, they were a desperate bunch.
When the gods had convened in the meeting room on the day of Marduk’s encounter at the beach, they had listened raptly. All remembered the warm, pliant bodies of women in their past and wondered if it would be possible to feel that joy again, as Marduk regaled them of his experience with the girl on the beach. The encounter had given rise to hope.
Brainstorming after his sighting had been loud and passionate. It had led to Marduk donning jeans before going out in public, instead of the usual robed and belted material that hung low on his hips, so as not to scare the humans in case there was a repeat of his visibility. His brothers had also insisted that he roam about Quincy and Boston searching for the girl again, whom they all agreed must have been the catalyst for his body’s emergence from the mist.
Their advice had paid off. Here he was poised to make contact, ready to fill the void of the god’s combined destinies. Marduk readied himself outside the burger joint.
With an invisible Anshar on his heels, the thunder god wrenched the door open and strode inside. He was instantly assailed by the suffocating heat generated by the crush of warm bodies, not to mention the smell of fry grease and processed beef. It made him nauseous. Shit! The room began to spin. His knees felt weak.
“Marduk! What the f… Hey! Snap out of it. You want to screw this up totally?” Anshar’s voice barely penetrated. Marduk was trembling and was in danger of going down. The asphyxiating sensations were just too much. He wanted to be left alone, but his ever-vigilant wingman wasn’t going to leave him be.
“Listen to me.” It felt like Anshar’s hand was jabbing his shoulder. “Babes don’t dig guys who puke on their shoes.” Anshar punched again, trying to reach Marduk. “Straighten up and lose the dingy color, will ya?”
Marduk was almost beyond caring. He ignored his friend, and instead reached out his hand, pleadingly to the woman whose gray eyes were pinned on him. She seemed the only possible lifeline in an undulating room.
Tess thought the man looked like a huge tree about to topple. Losing her combative stance, she cautiously approached. He was even taller than she had thought; her nose was just level with his sternum. She looked up…way up.
“Are you all right,” she asked tentatively. Damn! What am I, an idiot? She was sure that in the book, How to Converse with Your Stalker, she was going about this the wrong way.
“Air.” She could have sworn her pursuer’s voice rumbled. “Need…outside.”
She was a total idiot for listening. If she was smart, she’d take this opportunity to run. Damn her empathetic tendencies!
She didn’t feel comfortable touching him, so instead herded him toward the door, using skills she must have picked up from the family border collie. She urged him on with a gentle tone.
“You can do this. Just follow me…look, it’s really close. Right here.”
He put one foot in front of the other, and she prayed every time he lurched that he wouldn’t fall on her. She pushed open the door. He staggered but didn’t throw up, reaching the sidewalk on unsteady feet. Finally, with his back against the storefront, he sank to the ground.
“Oh, gods,” he groaned, cradling his head in his hands. “How do you people stand such small spaces?”
“Oh, I get it,” Tess commiserated. “Claustrophobia.”
She folded her arms over her chest and couldn’t help but snarkily ask, “Does going around naked circumvent claustrophobia?”
Marduk raised deep pools of black to capture her eyes with his. The nausea was nearly gone, and he’d pushed his brain’s restart button.
“Nothing to do with it.” He took a deep breath, expanding his chest. Marduk fished for a reaction. “I never wear clothes on the beach.”
A blush instantly spread up her neck and over tiny, well-shaped ears that peaked out from her fine hair. Marduk felt like he’d been gut punched. This tiny woman was exquisite, a rare beauty. Hmm…he was suddenly feeling so much better.
“Way to make the lady feel comfortable, asshole,” Anshar groused.
Marduk wondered if he’d lost his touch with the ladies, or if he’d ever had the skill to begin with. “Okay. I’ve got this,” he replied.
“Umm…you’ve got what?” The woman backed up a step and regarded him with a look of suspicion again. Hell, he had forgotten to do the telepathic thing. He needed some serious damage control here. First, he had appeared stark naked on the beach, then chased her from a baseball stadium. Now he was talking to himself. Anshar was right. Way to go, jerk-off.
“I’ve…uh, got a grip on the nausea thing now.” He stirred a little, but remained seated so as not to cause further alarm, and studied her as she obviously pondered her next move.
Perfect white teeth worried a full lower lip, causing his dick to tighten uncomfortably in his jeans. A slight fog still lay over her glasses from the storm, but as he had thought, her wide eyes were smoky gray. Her hair was drying in strange little puffs that stood out from her head in a soft halo, and he felt the urge to smooth every one, slowly, lingeringly.
He breathed deeply. The scent of spring rain emanated from her skin. She wasn’t the type he was normally attracted to, but damn! There was something about her… She had small pert breasts and hips that were discernible but refused to flare, a petite figure that set him ablaze.
Marduk looked her up and down, taking it all in. He barely refrained from grabbing her firm, square little chin tilted at a “not quite so fast, buddy” angle, before she had the audacity to issue him an order, wagging a finger at his nose.
“Well, you still don’t look that great, so don’t even think about getting up,” she warned.
He raised one imperious brow. “You think to tell me what to do?”
Although he had the local vernacular down and had kept abreast of trends over the last few hundred years, his voice still carried old world inflections and cadence. He could see that she was intrigued.
“Oh…” She paused breathlessly. “Where are you from?”
Marduk watched her eyes brighten behind those devilish glasses. He had a feeling Mesopotamia was not the answer she was looking for.
“Quincy,” he offered, nonchalantly. “And you…” He could tell she didn’t trust him and was not too thrilled that he had mocked her authority. He tried to bring his natural arrogance down a notch.
“Are you local?” He smiled right into her eyes, compelling her to answer.
“I live in Quincy too. But I’ve only been here a few weeks. I’m actually from Maine,” Tess related.
“That explains it,” he said, solving the mystery of why he hadn’t become visible in possible random encounters.
“Explains what?” She shook her head in obvious confusion.
“Explains why I’ve never seen you before, but now I’ve run into you twice in the past couple of weeks,” he supplied, lamely. Man, he sounded stupid, even to his own ears.
“Why did you chase me out of the ballpark? And why were you on the beach the other day, naked and acting like a madman?”
He attempted to look sheepish. “Oh that,” he prevaricated. “I like to meet the sunrise, uhh…sans clothes.” He wondered what she’d thought of him; how much of him she’d seen. “It was foggy and I didn’t think anyone would be around so early. I don’t suppose you could see much?”
He could tell by her sudden rosy color that she had seen plenty, and he was inordinately pleased. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
He heard her sigh. “Let’s say I agree you’re not a lunatic or a deranged nudist,” she paused. “Will you tell me the truth? Something really weird was happening to you on the beach. Right?” Her eyes were shrewd, and he sensed a quick intelligence. Just as acutely, he felt a sudden connection with her. Was it just his libido working overtime?
He had always been able to compel most humans to do his bidding, but had only been able to share thoughts with the other gods. Why he suddenly thought she might be receptive, he didn’t know. He conjured th
eir possible psychic connection and sent her a picture of the two of them in an erotic embrace.
Anshar must have picked up on it as well, based on his reaction. “Oh, nasty! Keep the hot stuff to yourself, thunder-boy. I don’t need a picture of your ugly ass in my head.”
But, interestingly enough, both of the gods caught the little gasp that escaped from the woman’s mouth as her arms inadvertently hugged her body.
“You’re kidding me.” Anshar’s reaction matched Marduk’s. “The little mouse caught your naked-osity, too? This is getting interesting. Maybe I’ll send her a little sweet nothing of my own.” He rubbed his hands together.
Marduk caused one low roll of thunder to echo across the sky, then caught himself. It surprised him, the sudden aggressive thrust of his feelings. He was used to Anshar’s joking and womanizing. Why was he ready to take his buddy’s head off for Anshar’s interest in this one?
The sky god stopped looking gleeful and backed up a step. “Whoa, boy. Settle down. I get it.” Good, Marduk growled. If there was to be any showing off, he would be doing it.
A glower settled on Marduk’s face. Why did he want his embrace alone to be the reason for the confusion on the little mouse’s face? The picture of the two of them entwined had caused his cock to harden in his jeans, and it was a damned uncomfortable feeling, mentally…and physically. Who had invented these infernal crotch coverings?
When Marduk didn’t answer, Tess continued. “Fine. I don’t need to know what you were doing on the beach, but I’m not leaving until you can stand on your own.” The color was high on her cheeks, and he watched her little tongue poke out again.
Marduk had fully recovered from his dizziness, but an entirely different realization left him tight and edgy. Gods help him, but if she reached out and pulled him up, he would feel the touch of a woman for the first time in four centuries.
“Give me your hand.” He didn’t mean to issue a command. He bit his tongue, extended his palm, and struggled for a lighter tone.