by Mia Darien
He could just make out the fragrance of rain. Wheels going over a wet street in the distance. Scott winced as the sounds and smells became fainter. Like he was drifting farther away.
I’m in Manchester, I’m in St. Ann’s Square, and this is all going to be a bad dream.
Scott…
The woman’s voice threaded through his brain.
He turned to the source of her voice, unable to get his bearings at all. His vision was clouded.
Nyx paused for a moment and clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms, when she thought of encounters with Poseidon. When she imagined that he would ask to accompany her, that he would desire her on a satisfying level.
After a shaking breath, Nyx continued, “It is worship and devotion I seek. For me and for those like me, it is a need. Like what water is to living men.” The mention of water again brought the Sea God to her mind. The cooling, gravity-altering power of his vast oceans.
It was Nyx’s turn to tremble inside, but it was rage that caused it. Taking silent, deep breaths, Nyx did her best to remain in mortal form.
A mirthless laugh escaped her throat. “And how dreary for me that you find me to be some sort of devil. Do you appreciate nightfall, Scott? Do you find it welcome? After a trying day that has done its best to relieve you of your soul? Try to think of me that way…”
And Scott recalled that in fact, he had always appreciated the evening. He’d welcomed night’s still, quiet hours. Its gentleness in comparison to day’s demands. His heart slowed and his eyes ceased darting around.
Night could be a haven for unknown danger. As well as a sanctuary from it. A sanctuary, like an embrace or a blanket….
Then, the humming lips of Nyx were at his ear, a profound vibration the source of which he forgot. It went through his entire being and he lost all sense of what or where he was.
Nyx drew back. Scott found himself a living, breathing man again.
On a summer night in the city of his birth. Shadows everywhere accompanied by shades of blue, black and grey. Stars and moonlight glittered above.
She was still there, probing his thoughts and looking at him.
Loyalty. Sincerity. Kindness. A deep desire to stamp out the evil in this world. To make it safe for his family. Safe for the family he has yet to have.
Mothering instincts warred with her darker needs. The desires of a lover battled with the whims of a goddess.
Nyx began to pace in front of Scott. Chewing her mortal fingers then tapping them on her thighs.
Her mind drifted back to the woman she’d left in the arms of Morpheus. The woman, prone in the care of the Oneiroi leader and ignorant of whose daughter she was.
“Tell me then. Who this angel is you wait for, Scott?”
He sat back up, groaning at the rather mortal sensations of a sore back. Things he hadn’t felt for so long.
“I never met her. But I knew. I knew I would somehow come to her here. I never had a lot of money, but I had been a good soldier. And I was going to be a teacher. Until I died…”
Relief was reflected in his face when her physical glamour turned yet more natural. She was to his eyes, a pretty Mediterranean girl with inky hair and large brown irises. Almost mortal.
She ceased pacing and sat down beside him.
“Do you know, I could be an angel for you? Do you not think that perhaps it was no ordinary girl you were destined to wed? But someone like me? Someone with sort of…divine qualities?”
And her lips parted in a smile that was wholesome. Deceivingly so.
He sucked in a breath. Then, after a gasp, Scott realized. “I really am…breathing.” A laugh escaped his parted lips. “You...you did this. But you…you are…” He fumbled with his voice. His living voice. His pumping blood. His solid skin and his…breath.
“For now, let’s just say that you are reborn of the night. Shall we?”
Scott pressed his lips together and looked at her. His chest rose and fell in short, shaky breaths.
One corner of Nyx’s mouth went up. One of her cloaked shoulders went up in a shrug. She continued explaining at his perplexed look.
“If you believe I serve some red, horned man surrounded by flames, you would be sorely mistaken. No bearded masculine entity holds sway over me. Though I do find beards terribly attractive when properly trimmed.”
And dripping wet with seawater, she thought, clenching her fists.
“Miss?” The former shade, Scott, coughed and broke into the reminiscing goddess’s thoughts.
She turned to him with a flash of pretty white teeth set against her plum lips and dusky olive skin.
“Would you like to be mine? I am sure that I could find a way to make you happy. To give you…some sort of joy in belonging to me. There are abilities I could give you.”
His eyes remained far away and Scott looked down, unsure of what to say. But he knew, supernatural abilities could be handy.
Imagine what I could do. Scott placed his palms on his legs and pressed down. He was still reveling in being alive. It was a miracle itself.
“I’m sorry. You are...beautiful. And obviously powerful. Really, I just want a simple life. I don’t see you settling down in a semi-detached house with a couple of kids. You don’t seem like the type to take an interest in gardening or camping trips.” He laughed nervously, seeing her upturned eyebrow.
“How strong you are in your convictions.” She sat back and crossed her legs, tilting her head as possibilities played themselves out in her mind. After her pause, Nyx addressed him again.
“Let’s play a little game. I will let you wander this earth for a certain amount of time, you will see if you can get your destined lady to come to you here. On this very bench you chose in your other life.” Nyx patted the stone rectangle they sat on. “If after the time has passed, you cannot find her, you will be mine. It won’t be a bad existence. You will grow to enjoy worshipping me.”
She stroked the side of his face again, watching his eyes widen. Then he turned to her.
“Is this the payment? For you…restoring my life?” he blurted out.
Nyx removed her hand.
“I don’t require any payment. But I do wish to have you make a choice. You cannot stay here forever. Someone eventually would have moved you.”
Scott shook his head.
“You’ll interfere, somehow. I know. Somehow…” And his light brown brows drew together then came apart as he tilted his face back in her direction.
“I promise not to impede your progress.” She laid one hand over her heart.
“Right,” he said the word slowly. Then another sort of recognition crossed his face as he said,
“Won’t…people be confused if they see me?”
Nyx put his mind at ease with the calmest of words.
“You died five years ago to this day. And you underestimate me. You can and will carry on as you wished to before. The memory of your death has been removed from this world. The last five years will have no impact on you. Only you know of your demise. And the time that passed. Go home. And after tomorrow, seek her, your great love and the one who will give you a reason to live this mortal life again.”
“And where will you be?”
“You will find I am around most nights.” A coy grin drew the corners of her mouth up.
“And what should I call you?” he queried further.
She turned towards the brightening sky, lids softening over her midnight eyes.
“You can call me, N…” Her name interrupted by a very human yawn, she said, “Nina.”
“Nina…” He looked down.
Her name and other words fumbled out of his thoughts. His mind came alive with recollections of Greek Mythology. You will find I am around most nights…
“Nina… Nyx. Nyx!” As recognition dawned, he looked to the Night Goddess, who now was nowhere to be seen.
The church in front of him slowly lit up with the rising sun. He stood and began the journey to the last pla
ce he knew as home. The city new yet strange to him. People saw him. Some nodded.
Panicking suddenly, he dug in his pocket when he realised he would have no money. But there was his wallet. He swallowed at the date on his license. And at the collection of twenty pound notes there. Valid credit and debit cards.
He boarded a bus that took him to Piccadilly. Then boarded a train that got him to the last place he knew as home.
* * *
(The Next Day)
Scott turned the key and opened the brand new, white door. All his belongings remained in the same place they were when he had left to go abroad. There was no sound inside the house, only the tweeting of birds outside.
Memories flashed through his brain of fitting the wooden floor. His dad had done the tiles in the kitchen.
When his father was diagnosed with a condition he knew would one day claim his life, the man had worked tirelessly to help purchase a home for his son. He’d insisted on helping with the work that needed doing until he grew too poorly.
Scott sat down on a cushioned armchair with rounded sides. It was so foreign. This comfort. And the smell of paint and new flooring. He stared into the doorway that led to the kitchen.
“Is this a dream?” he asked the freshly painted white walls. In the grey daylight, it felt barren. There was no television, no pictures on the walls.
He stood and went to the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway and looked to his right at a steep, carpeted staircase that led to the two bedrooms and bathroom. Scott ascended.
Weariness assaulted his eyelids. A heaviness that made him crave his bed. The very human experience of falling asleep. An escape. The time he’d spent as a ghost in front of St. Ann’s church began to fade from his memory. He tried to recall the imitation of life he’d tried to do. His desperate conjuring to bring back his existence.
In the end, it brought Nyx to me. A bloody Greek goddess. A primordial one, no less.
Slowly, his memories turned to the cold in winter. The rain and wind. He remembered eating fast food and walking past St. Ann’s. He remembered stumbling through the square after a few too many beers.
Getting lost in a fantasy of having a beautiful, hazel-eyed woman look at him with some sort of recognition.
He recalled coming back home from his last tour. Having an interview at a school he wished to teach at. Visiting his parent’s graves. Telling them that he was back and that he was going to the house. Thanking his dad for helping with the floors. Trying not to weep on his way home.
When did I do that? Did that happen this morning? Yeah…it did.
Scott reached the top of the stairs and turned to the left where the bathroom was. He looked at the clear shower guard and saw his favorite “man wash.” A blue beach-themed shower gel.
Another memory, of going to the store and buying new toiletries yesterday. Of seeing people he knew in the car park.
His wonder-filled voice came out, “These memories, she… She did them. She made them.”
Nyx.
Scott placed his hands on either side of the oval white sink and looked at himself in the mirror. He still bore the results of an endless sunburn. A few new freckles had cropped up around his nose. His eyes were a little red from fatigue. But they were his original blue color. His previously cropped hair had begun to grow out, the strands still short but becoming shaggy.
He needed a shower.
He licked his lips and swallowed, then opened his mouth, taking note of every breath. “I’m knackered. Why am I so…” He paused, trying to digest all the things whirring in his mind.
Scott closed his eyes then opened them again. He placed one hand on the side of his neck, squeezing. The moment he did that, he found himself lightheaded. The light behind the frosted privacy window beside his white bath/shower flickered. As though something large and dark flew past.
A familiar voice hit his head. Her.
“You walked all around town last night, unable to find rest. But now…you will find it. Worry not.”
One of the horses from the field behind his back garden whinnied. He was brought back to the moment.
Scott showered, enjoying every moment of hot water and cleanliness.
It’s like I haven’t experienced a shower in ages, but…it’s just all that time in Afghanistan. When normal hygiene was a major luxury. When the stinking heat infiltrated every bastard pore. It’s not like it’s been years…
Leaning his head back and rinsing the last of the shampoo from his hair, he closed his eyes. Remembering all the months of fighting the sweat endlessly dripping into his eyes. At the same time fighting to remain alive.
Toweling off, Scott went into his room. The walls were a deep blue. The blackout curtains had been drawn. The duvet was black, inviting him to crawl into an oblivion-filled, restorative slumber. Scott decided to turn on a lamp on the bedside. He paused to stare at his unpacked things, then went into one of the boxes to find a plain white t-shirt, clean boxers and sweats.
He wanted…nightfall. Like a blanket.
Nyx. He swallowed.
It felt lonely without the goddess’s presence.
I can give you abilities. Make things happen for you. You would grow to enjoy worshiping me.
She’d been like a comfort in the darkness. He was suddenly sensitive to the temperature, despite it being midsummer.
Scott switched off the lamp and climbed into bed. He’d never been a person to kip during the day, but this fatigue was overwhelming and the sheets beckoned him like a siren.
He slid his body beneath the duvet and found himself at sleep’s mercy. Unbidden dreams brought a reality he could smell. He felt it in the very soles of his feet.
He found himself standing on a vast expanse of soil. Not one blade of green grass sprouted from the earth. The moist dirt was warm. Overhead, the blue-black sky rumbled, and flashes of lightning provided lingering illumination.
He looked up at the sky. The top of what could be some sort of netherworld. That was when he heard it.
The demonic wail. Beating wings. Scott locked his feet to the ground and braced himself.
I can make you capable of god-like feats. You need not know fear or vulnerability.
Scott swallowed, squinting at the sky. The winged demons were there. They would come for him. The tearing and pulling would begin. His soul would be thrown to Hades.
They would make him into nothing.
Standing his ground, he began to tremble. He looked down at the hot soil flashing in the ethereal glares of lighting. It confused him. He felt he had seen these creatures, heard them before.
No…I remember the pops and cracks of enemy fire. I remember the helicopter blades. That’s it… That’s it. Right?
In that moment, Scott knew that if he surrendered himself to Nyx, devoted himself to her, she would free him. She would put him in a position where he could dominate the mortal world around him if he so chose.
Beautiful women would flock to you. Women with hazel eyes. You could pick and choose amongst them. For your own comfort. For your own joy. The beauties with enticing lips and smooth bare shoulders, ever ready to reveal more. A collection of willing, personalized favorites.
Temptation was there. A hook that pulled him from the base of his simplest desires, and fear of being so human and exposed before unconquerable powers. Before people who saw no value in love. Before people who saw kindness as a joke.
The lure threatened to tear him from himself. To make him something else.
It could be amazing. I could have heaven on earth. Maybe she doesn’t even exist, my St. Ann’s wife.
Scott took a deep breath, understanding that this was some sort of test. Grasping what was on offer.
He looked to the rolling darkness above him and pressed his feet into the soft ground.
“I accept that you might take away whatever it is you’ve given me, Mighty Nyx. But I want to live my life as a man. I want to go to St. Ann’s. I don’t want to be anything…unnatural.”
<
br /> The expanse above him rolled into dancing mists. The cries of the Keres dimmed until he could hear nothing. He couldn’t feel the soil beneath him. The temperature meant nothing. And soon, he could see nothing.
Scott woke to find it was night.
His blackout curtains had been pulled open just a little. The moonlight shone onto the carpet. Worried someone had broken in, he sat up and turned on the light. The sudden glare made him reach to adjust it. He wound up knocking a magazine off the bedside table.
It was a popular film magazine he bought from time to time. Trying to keep up with what was in cinemas. The magazine was open to an interview with a stunning actress.
Her skin was flushed with an ethereally golden tone. Her tawny glittering eyes revealed a hot-blooded goddess. She shone with every imaginable power of desire and love.
Like she was a bit of an authority on such things.
Scott’s heart began to hammer in his chest. Focusing on her eyes, it was like she was looking at him. It was a look of approval.
Scott leaned back in bed for a moment. “Well, I’m glad you approve of me.”
He went downstairs to the kitchen and checked the answering machine.
“Hiya. This is Scott. Leave a message I’ll get back to you. Cheers.”
First was an offer of a job by the very school he’d wished to teach at. The second was an army mate, someone he had been in Afghanistan with, who wanted to know how he was. Scott stretched his arms overhead, staring at the landline on the tiled floor.
There was a fragrance in his house, the aroma of burning incense lingering in the air.
Scott moved towards the circular armchair before the window of his front room.
He stopped when he saw the crown of her ebony tresses, shining. Her eyes met his. She spoke to him.
“I’ve given birth to many terrible things, Scott. Death, the Keres, many entities of the Underworld fall under my domaine. But you, I am proud of. I can’t lay claim to creating you…” She stopped.
He heard the rustling of fabric. Nyx adjusted her mortal form.
