The Modern Gods

by C M Thorne

  “Great,” Thea replied sarcastically, wiping at her dry and swollen eyes. “Do you want my thanks? This is all because of you and your family!” she spat, refusing to look at Adella.

  It was shockingly silent after her words faded, save for the beeping and mechanical sighing of the machines.

  “Our family,” Adella replied, finally. She came around the side of the hospital bed and looked down at Thea’s adoptive father. “They were attacked by a creature,” she spoke, voice even lower, “something summoned with dark power and hate.”

  Thea glared up at her sister. “Who would’ve done that?”

  Adella shook her head, face unemotional and yet, seemed sad as she sighed. “Enemies. Enemies who know of you and your power.” She shrugged a little. “You are most vulnerable now. Now, when you don’t know how to use your power. How to defend yourself.”

  “I’ve been vulnerable my whole life,” Thea snapped.

  Her sister nodded, speaking slowly, quiet and deliberate, “Yes, but now we all know about you. Someone started all of this with,” she paused and looked to the man in the bed, “our father and brother. You seem to be another target. Someone wants to take you out before you can learn and grow.”

  Thea nodded and stood up. “Right. Understandable. Attack the weak link.” Adella opened her mouth to say something, but Thea held up a hand. “Do what you want to protect me, but I don’t want to see you. Not now. Not yet.” She motioned towards the door, “Please leave me with my father.”

  Adella nodded once and cast her eyes downward as she left, heels clacking on the floor. The door closed with a soft clink and Thea collapsed back into the chair at her father’s side. She was beyond exhausted and had thought all the tears cried and gone. Yet, she found her eyes welling up as she leaned her head against the bed and grabbed her father’s hand.

  CHAPTER 19: SOULS TO THE AFTERLIFE

  MARC STOOD NEAR the window of the small pub in one of his favorite areas of the city. The Nolan sisters had called a meeting, but they had agreed to meet in smaller groups. Recent events had them all worried and the sisters set up three different meetings, one in Dublin, one in Brest in France, and the third in some town in America. His son, Liam, his daughters, Ailís and Neasa, and Catrin Howell all sat at the round, thick wooden table next to the window he was standing at.

  Maeve Nolan was the designated one of the sisters who had come to the small gathering. She returned to the table from the bar, fiddling with the end of her long braided fiery hair before throwing it over her shoulder as she sat down. The server that followed her set down a round of beers and slipped back into the throng of the pub in a flash. Maeve wore a heathered, wheat colored cable-knit sweater over dark jeans and brown leather riding boots.

  She had more than likely come from work. She ran a massive riding school and set of private stables outside of the city, which she had named Crownland Stables & Equestrian Riding School. The goddess, like many others, had turned that which she had power over into an industry of some kind, a way to thrive in a world that barely knew them now, much less worshipped them. She scanned the faces of the others at the table and cleared her throat, “Marc, sit down please.”

  He looked at her more fully in the eye and nodded, moving over to sit across from Maeve, between his son and Neasa. He shed his coat and pulled at the cuffs of his deep green knit top uncomfortably. Marc had not been on land for such a long period of time in years. He longed to feel the sea beneath him, nearly feeling sick for it. Marc shifted around, reaching for a pint from the middle of the table and taking a long drink.

  “We felt that it was time to tell you all what has been happening,” Maeve crossed her arms and a serious look settled onto her face.

  “We all know what’s been going on,” Liam interjected. “Another god was killed.” He waved his hand, small and dismissive. Even if he felt the seriousness of the events happening around the world, Liam was eager to hide it and appear his usual self. He eyed a particularly beautiful woman across the pub and drank deep from his pint of dark beer, ignoring the serious air of those gathered at the table.

  “No,” Maeve narrowed her deep green eyes on Marc’s son. “We mean about the rumors of the new Greek power that has arisen following the Lightning Wielder’s death.” She paused, eyes looking away from the others, “That power is not just theirs. We felt her,” she sighed and grabbed her own pint of dark beer, taking a long drink. “She belongs to us as well.”

  “You felt her?” Marc asked.

  Maeve nodded, “Yes, she is blood of our blood.”

  Neasa leaned forward slowly, “You don’t mean.” She trailed off and looked down at her hands, which she had placed on the table.

  An image of Deirdre flashed through his mind. She had been the sisters’ daughter with the Norse sky god over one thousand years ago. Deirdre. She had been a force of pure light and power, all beauty and passion. They had thought her dead, or as near to it as they could willingly be as immortals. Slumbering into a state of nonexistence. No one knew why she had gone to the long sleep of dormancy, fading out of their life, but she had.

  How could there have been a child? Marc understood that this new goddess was young, too young, as Deirdre had been gone for decades. It didn’t make sense.

  “How?” Marc asked softly.

  Maeve’s eyes met his, “I am not sure, honestly.” He swore he saw sadness in her eyes, briefly flashing to the surface before she took a drink of her beer and straightened herself. Her regular mask of aloofness and regality slipping back into place. “Somehow Deirdre must not have fully faded.”

  “Leave it to Zeus to find her then,” Liam scoffed.

  Neasa leaned around Marc and smacked her brother on the arm, “Don’t be an arse!”

  “What?” Liam scooted away. “Sorry!”

  “Eejit!” Neasa cried out, shaking her head.

  “Son,” Marc clapped his hand on his son’s knee, “it’s probably best if you have a care and be quiet.” Liam opened his mouth defiantly, but Marc held his gaze and his son slumped back in his chair, looking away. Marc nodded to Maeve, who betrayed no emotion during the whole interaction, completely reining in any reaction.

  “Well,” Maeve sat up straight as she downed the rest of her beer. “She has to be our granddaughter, so we want to do something about that.” Her eyes flicked to Marc’s. “Brona has tracked her back to her home in the states. Someone attacked her family. Now is the perfect time to move in and show her that the Greeks cannot necessarily provide protection. We can show her how to wield her power. We can give her more. We have done it before.”

  Catrin blew an airy sounding raspberry and shed her dark brown leather jacket, “We all know that was different. This girl is different.” She made a face that told them that she was aware of the fact that they all knew she was right. Deirdre had been different. “She has been raised as a human,” she paused, eyes sad, “and she has lost her family.”

  “Some of her family,” Maeve corrected, not looking at any of them. “Her father still lives, though in a coma of sorts.”

  “You know a lot about this girl,” Marc observed, watching Maeve’s reaction.

  “As I’ve said,” she nodded to him and pursed her lips, “Brona has tracked her down. We know quite a bit already.” She looked over the others and pulled herself up further, rigid and queenly. “We have this handled. There is nothing to worry about,” her tone was even and firm, showing that her word was final. No one was truly ruler of their family, but the sisters held the greatest right. Marc was not sure why they never took it, just letting the power of a crown hang in the air.

  He nodded finally, showing that he understood. Marc would not allow any of the others to say or do anything against the decision of the Nolan sisters. It was not worth the trouble. He shot Liam a look, but he was still slouched back petulantly. He wouldn’t cause any other problems. Neasa shifted uncomfortably next to him in the silence that had fallen over them, tugging at the bottom of her icy blue s
weater dress. He looked to her and she widened her eyes as if to ask what was wrong. He shot her a pointed look and she nodded. She wouldn’t be any problem either.

  Ailís was mirroring Maeve, sitting stiff-backed and serious. She would’ve never caused a fuss. Catrin, on the other hand, had her arms crossed and her grassy green eyes glared at Maeve across the table. He wondered if they would be needing to have a further conversation, a more private one later. He had never been one to police the others when he was very young, but with his guardianship of the dead, Nuada, their once great king, had made him a lawgiver. He had shirked many of those now ancient responsibilities long ago, but perhaps it was time to step back into his roles, all of them. He sighed and got up from the table.

  Responsibilities or not, the air at the table had grown thick with awkwardness and Marc didn’t want to choke on it any longer. He picked up his beer and downed it before slipping his coat back on. The one duty he had not shirked pulled at him. The dead could not be ignored and he felt the spirit before he saw it, looking around the pub. Not many came to him anymore, came to pass to Mag Mell. The otherworld of their family was accessible to those who held a bit of faith in them, however, and this spirit had quite a lot. He saw her outside the window he had been standing at earlier.

  It was a frail, older looking woman standing across the street. She was wearing a pale yellow sweater and she stared at him blankly, waiting. He let himself out of the pub and crossed the wet street to the spirit. The rain had stopped, but as he glanced upwards, he could see that the fat clouds were gathering together for a heavy night of rain.

  “Loraine Grace Fitzgerald,” he said her name as he stepped closer to her and her name became clear in his mind’s eye, like remembering something he had written down. “You took yer fine time getting to me, didn’t ya?” He smiled as her eyes cleared and she looked around confused.

  “Where am I?” she asked, shaking her head a little and peering down the street. Her accent was unmistakably American, but her heritage had to be Irish, else she wouldn’t be there before him.

  “Home,” Marc answered. She looked at him with tired brown eyes and nodded slowly. “The sea beckons us beyond,” Marc continued and moved forward, “to a blessed land.”

  She took a step forward and then hesitated, “I needed to see them.” Marc nodded and reached out for her, but she stumbled back. “I waited by them in the hospital,” she swallowed a sob and looked down at her hands in shock. “I could, couldn’t get them to hear me, or feel me.” She stumbled around the words as tears rolled down her wrinkled cheeks. “My daughter,” she trailed off.

  “You will see her one day, a leanbh,” he reached out to her.

  She nodded and moved forward, a smile playing at her lips. Just as she reached him, she muttered happily under her breath, “Long time till then. My girl is tough.” He nodded and she took his hand. “Not even lightning took her light,” she spoke softly and smiled as her spirit faded away, moving through him to the afterlife.

  “What,” he breathed out and looked down at his hand. “Lightning, but that,” he broke off and looked toward the pub. Maeve was at the bar by herself, but she felt him looking at her, turning and meeting his gaze.

  “That’s how you knew,” he said out loud, using his power to make her hear his voice. “She died and that told you, your sisters.” She kept her face a mask, looking at him from the distance. “Death is not mine alone. You knew when the girl’s mother died. You felt it. Felt her.”

  “We were already tracking her,” Maeve countered. “We felt the pull. Her mother just connected us with her. She is alone. Now is our time.”

  He shook his head and looked down. He couldn’t believe that they already knew and were waiting for an opportune time to pounce. “I hope you didn’t set this in motion. That girl will never-” He looked up and stopped, realizing that Maeve had left. Marc reached out and did not even feel her nearby. She must have gone to her sisters. He shook his head and turned towards the bay.

  Neasa came up on his left side, golden hair flying out behind her as she tracked the horizon. “I overheard,” she said softly. He glanced at her and she continued, “I had my suspicions already. Everything they do is calculated.” She looked up at him, “Do you really think they had something to do with the girl’s mother and the like?”

  He shook his head, “I don’t know. I hope not. I can’t say though.”

  She stuck her hands in the pockets of her heavy coat, “I will keep my eyes and my ears open, da.”

  He smiled slightly, “You don’t have to do that.”

  Neasa shrugged and turned on her heel, heading back into the pub. Marc watched her go over his shoulder and shook his head. He had meant to take up his titles once more not half an hour before this. He decided that he could not go back on that now. He would honor the decisions of the sisters, but he was lawgiver. If they had willfully taken the life of a mortal innocent, he would invoke any power need be to ensure the old laws saw justice.

  CHAPTER 20: THE OTHER NEW FAMILY

  FROM A DREAMLESS sleep, Thea gasped awake and pushed off of the bed. She had slumped over, forehead pressed to the rough blanket of her father’s hospital bed. She rubbed her head, feeling the patterned indentations on her skin and blinked slowly. Sleep was still heavy in her eyes and she pressed her palms into them, trying to make sense of time in the dim fluorescent glow of the room’s light. Most of them were turned off except the one over the small sink near the door. The blinds were drawn, but soft light glowed behind them.

  With a groan, Thea pushed herself up to her feet and shuffled over to the window. Pulling the blinds open and looking out across the city, she yawned and decided she must have slept for an exceptionally long time as the sun was rising. It had been midday or maybe late afternoon when she sent her sister away. She turned away from the window and tried to remember what she had done after that. A nurse can recommended that she go get something to eat, but she didn’t want to leave her father. The nurse then brought the hospital dinner tray that would be her father’s if he wasn’t in a coma. She couldn’t remember eating it and the tray was gone now.

  She felt her pocket for her phone, but it wasn’t there. She looked around, checking the chair and the bed. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath. Had she left it in the house maybe? She rubbed her temple and tried to remember the last day. It was all a blur now, nothing standing out as a better time over the others for having misplaced the phone. “Shit, shit, shit,” Thea stomped her feet a little as she stopped in front of the small sink and mirror. She stared at herself, noticing that her forehead was still an angry red and that her eyes were rimmed with tired purple circles.

  She tried to focus on her appearance, to alter it. The light buzzed over the sink and her slightly frizzy hair coiled up into tight curls. She raked her hand through the curls, trying to break them up a little before puffing out a breath and turning away. Her powers were relatively untested and she didn’t know what she was doing. She continued to rake her hands through her hair as she walked back over to the window, taking a deep breath. “What the hell was I thinking?” She muttered and looked to her father.

  He was hooked up to a myriad of machines, softly buzzing, beeping, and sighing. All sounds to keep not just monitored, but alive while he slept. Sleep like a some kind of spell, a spell to help him heal. Thea gripped the railing at the bottom of the bed, thinking about how Diane had all but said that healing her father was possible. Maybe that’s what he needed. Just a little push to help pull him from the coma. “Just a little something,” she breathed out as someone knocked at the door and let themselves in.

  “Oh, excuse me, Miss Matthews,” the doctor bowed his head. He was a middle-aged balding man with deep brown skin, surprisingly unlined. His greying hair betrayed his age. That and the dark, puffy bags under his eyes caused from years of stress and little to no sleep.

  She squinted at him, trying to think of what this doctor was for. Neuro, maybe, she thought. Definitely
not the ortho guy. She shook her head a little, “Oh, hi. Uh-”

  He smiled as he stepped closer, giving her a reprieve by introducing himself again, “Doctor West.” He nodded as he came up along the side of her father’s bed. She moved instinctively to the other side, nearest the windows. “We need to take your father for some more tests.” He explained and Thea noticed the others standing in the doorway, nurses or orderlies to assist the doctor.

  “Oh, ok,” she nodded a little and looked down at her father. “How long will all that be?”

  Dr. West opened his hands a little, “Hard to say. Could be an hour, perhaps more.”

  “Oh,” Thea looked to the clock. It was barely seven in the morning. “I, uh,” she tried to think of what else to say or what to do. Her stomach growled loudly and angrily. She clutched her stomach and laughed softly with embarrassment, ears burning. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “Did you eat last night, Miss Matthews?” Dr. West asked, heavy brows furrowing.

  “Uh,” she looked away, to the window. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t eat the food here,” Dr. West smirked. “There’s a few good places across the street.” He stepped around the bed and pointed out the window to the little strip across the street from the hospital. “Not too expensive.”

  “Shit,” Thea patted her pockets. “I don’t have any of my things, though. I don’t have any money with me, then.” She sighed and put her hand to her forehead.

  Dr. West turned away and went over to the little closet in the room. He grabbed a large white bag and turned back to her. “Are any of your things in here with your father’s? I’m afraid over eager interns or even nurses sometimes just scoop everything up into these bags without saying anything.”

  “Oh, I mean, I guess it could be,” she trailed off as she took the bag. She rooted around inside and found his phone. She pulled it free, noticed the no messages and low battery life, and slid it into her front right pocket.