by D. S. Murphy
“So what most people did, they would go to a matchmaker or fortune teller; they would be prescribed a simple ritual, and they’d carry it out – they’d make a spell, and bind an image of their lover, and place it in the temple of the goddess of love. If the union got her attention, and her blessing, the goddess herself could easily infuse the spell with enough magic to be effective.”
“Like writing a check, and waiting for the universe to sign it?”
“Something like that, weirdo. Why’s it so important to you?”
“I need to understand how it works,” I lied. “It might be related to my powers; but I want to do more than bind and tie; I need to learn how to untie and unravel – is there any way to break the spell?”
“You’re assuming it’s real magic. Most love charms are a fraud – love spells rarely work, except by powerful witches who have their own magic, or have found ways to store magical energy and release it selectively. And even then, binding someone like this against their will; it’s dark magic. Dangerous.”
I wondered if that was why Able and Stephanie hadn’t told me about this; or maybe they really didn’t know. Heph said the gods didn’t concern themselves with seeker witchcraft, since they had their own magic and could do without charms and spells.
“This one, this one worked,” I said. “I can feel it. Is there anyone who could teach me more about it?”
“You’ve got to talk to the Hekau,” Maddie said. “Egyptian magicians. They’ve been around for a long time. One of them might know.”
“Too bad most of them have been dead for centuries,” Heph said. “Egypt is a far different place than it used to be.”
“There’s some left,” Maddie said. “Actually, I think I saw them arrive last night.”
“Fine,” Heph shrugged, “but talk to Tori first, she may know more about it. And let her know you have her doll. She might not miss it, but that doesn’t mean she’ll just let you scamper around Nevah with her mementos.”
“No scampering,” Jessie teased. “Promise.”
We found Tori watching the new recruits. She and Dion had set up some kind of fancy picnic around a long dining table, surrounded by half a dozen lesser heirs. It was covered with bread, cheese and fruit – plus about a dozen bottles of wine, half of which were empty. Tori was in a floral print dress, Dion in a suit with the top buttons of his white shirt open. Sitting on a spotless vintage leather couch, they looked like trust fund kids on vacation.
“Those were the days,” she said when I showed her the statue. “Things were better when they worshipped me. Wine, pleasure, opulence, luxury. It was the pinnacle of human civilization; all about heightening the sensory experience. Babylon was my crowning achievement. Indulgence. Beauty. What’s wrong with that? Things were simpler when humans just allowed themselves to enjoy life, and stop carrying around all this guilt, hate, envy and anger.”
“What about this one though?” holding up the statue again. “It came from an Egyptian temple. Do you recognize it?”
“It’s pretty,” she said, barely glancing at it. “That must be why I kept it. I like pretty things.” She giggled, and I glanced back at Jessie. I wondered how many glasses – or bottles – Tori had already finished today.
“But, do you know how it works?” Maddie pressed. “The magic?”
“Heavens no,” Tori said, with a palm to her chest as though I’d accused her of something terrible. “Goddesses don’t need magic. Plus, I’ve always secretly hated the idea of love spells. I believe in free will, free love. Why be limited to one partner when you can have them all? Monogamy is restrictive. Listen to the language. Bind his heart, writhe in agony, love no other... doesn’t that strike you as a little desperate? Most love spells were written by ugly girls, with no personality. But I’m a sucker for a star-crossed romance. If two people truly love each other, but the world is trying to keep them apart... I may blow some luck in their direction.”
I wondered if Tori had actually blessed this spell, and if so, what had happened to the couple? I hoped they’d found happiness.
“Do you mind if we hold on to the statue for a while?” I asked.
“Keep it,” she said, turning back to the games and tossing a handful of silver coins on the table. “Twenty drachma on the hecatonchires!” she shouted, pointing towards a beastly warrior with a dozen hands on each of the ten arms protruding from his torso.
“Talk about death by a thousand cuts,” Jessie whispered, making Sarah giggle as we walked away.
“Shit, so dead end,” I said.
“Maybe the gods are just the wrong people to ask,” Maddie said, as we walked past the twin sphinxes that led into the forest camp. I hoped she was right. If Zeus didn’t learn the magic trick from a god, he must have learned it from a human. And I knew just where to look.
***
By this time we reached the valley settlement beyond the old growth forest, it was late afternoon. I understood why Jessie preferred the wild space the refugees set up more than the house – the luxurious house had a way of making you feel small and inadequate. Even in the training grounds, I felt like it was a competition. Like you had to prove yourself, so people knew where you fit into the rigid hierarchy. How strong you were, how useful.
There was none of that out here. Seekers from all over the world shared secret technologies, recipes and stories. There was also a heightened energy, a thrilling buzz, anticipation of what was to come. The torches were composed and collected, and the roots held back their emotions – or they’d just learned to be patient, slow-moving, like the heirs.
Human seekers, on the other hand, were boisterous; always shouting and laughing. We entered the depths of the bazaar, and walked through the tight alleyways and cramped spaces between the tents. It seemed to have doubled overnight, and my eyes grew wide as I looked over the hanging blankets, bronze statues, strange devices and glittering spells. It was magic, but it felt unstable and wild.
I saw a stall with a pile of Q-bombs and stopped to look at the silver spheres. I knew they were filled with qeres, a perfume used in mummication, made from the river Styx. Madeline had called it “angel kryptonite.” I wondered how much they were, and what kind of currency people were using to barter. I’d have to ask Tori for some of those silver coins later – I’d rather spend it on weapons than stupid bets.
“Shut up,” Jessie said, turning the corner. “Are those flying carpets?”
“Can we ride one?” Sarah begged. My stomach went queasy just looking at them, bobbing around in the air. We’d been showing the love spell from Tori’s statue around the market, asking whether anyone could teach us more about the magic used. Few people could even read the Coptic, but one man had pointed us in this direction, and told us to ask for someone named Salazaar.
A luxurious tent was set up towards the back, with orange and red stripes and a vaulted top. A group of men were gathered outside, smoking shisha and playing backgammon. They were dressed in loose tunics and long, baggy pants. Some of them wore knitted jackets and red turbans. They parted at the mention of the name, like it was a secret password, and the tent flap opened of its own accord to let us pass. Inside, a large man with a thick mustache and a blue blazer brandished a curved sword.
“Salazaar?” I asked.
“Salazaar the great will hear your request,” the man said in a deep voice, “but will only receive one of you.”
“No way,” Jessie said, eyeing his sword.
“It’s fine,” I whispered. “I can see his thread. If there’s any trouble, I’ll just freeze him and yell for help. Can you take Sarah outside to pet the camels?”
“Fine,” Jessie said finally, shooting the man a dark look. “But you have to tell us everything.”
When we were alone, the man put away the curved blade and pulled out an antique bronze lamp instead. He rubbed the lamp with his palm, and blue smoke started pouring out of the spout. I took a step back, but the smoke darted around behind me, blocking my path to the exit. It g
ot so thick I could barely see, and then materialized into a massive man, with blue skin and a white turban. He was so large his shoulders ducked under the ceiling, and it looked like he was wearing the tent as a cape.
“What is your desire?” he asked, sounding bored.
“You’re a genie,” I guessed. “Salazaar, I presume?”
He nodded, and dropped his arm in a low bow. His palm was so big I could have stepped into it. The man with the blue jacket had gone still, and his eyes rolled up into his head. I glanced at him, but could only see the whites of his eyes.
“The keeper of the lamp,” Salazaar said, nodding. “He can’t hear or see us, our conversation will be private. So, daughter of Fates, how can I help you?”
“You know me?” I asked.
“Some things are easy to see,” he said, nodding towards my wrist. Then he smirked, and there was a hard glint in his eyes that made me uneasy. I searched for his thread but realized he didn’t have one. He laughed at my discomfort, then wiped a tear from his eye.
“Ask your question, daughter of Fates. No harm will come to you.”
I pulled out the statue and note and showed him both.
“I need to understand this spell, and how to undo it. Can you help?”
The genie leaned in close and peered at the objects.
“Genie are magical creatures,” he said finally. “Basically, we are magic bound to an object, but eventually develop personality and subjectivity. We realize we are alive. But we have no need of such spells and tricks. We have our own magic.”
“Like the gods,” I sighed. “The problem is, no human would still be alive from that long ago. The roots and heirs, those with actual magic, sometimes they live for a long time. There must be someone who can teach me how to undo this spell.”
“This magic cannot be taught. You must read the emerald tablet.”
“Where is it?”
“That is the right question to ask. But I’m the wrong person to answer.”
I frowned, and crossed my arms. I was getting tired of his riddles.
“So who should I ask?”
“There is only one with the knowledge you seek.” He pulled out a small onyx statue, of a kneeling woman with a wide wingspan, wearing a thin gold headband.
“Isis, the eternal. Founder of the Hekau. She knows all things.”
“Where can I find her?”
“She rests, beneath the sands of Egypt, for all time.”
“Great,” I said. “That helps. I’ll just have to travel halfway around the world and dig up an ancient goddess.”
“What you seek is seeking you,” he said ominously. If it was meant as encouragement, it failed; it sounded more like a threat or a warning. I turned to go, but he called out after me.
“One more thing, daughter of Fates. Your desire, the one you wish to save. If you have him, you will lose him. If you keep him, he will be destroyed.”
I felt a chill go down my spine, was he talking about Sitri? I opened my mouth to ask, but the genie was already just a puff of blue smoke, retreating back into bronze lamp. The large man woke up from his trance and escorted me out of the tent, but not before holding out his palm.
Jessie pulled a few crumpled dollars from her jeans and handed it to him, then pulled me away before he could bicker about the price. Maddie stayed in the camp while they rest of us started to head back to the mansion. The sun was already starting to go down, and it had been a long day. I was no closer to figuring out how to do undo the spell, and Salazaar had given me nothing but fortune cookie nonsense. I was so distracted on the walk home, I didn’t see the hunters until a woman screamed and pointed to the sky. They passed overhead, a great black cloud, then starting dropping their bundles.
Apparently, Zeus planned to make murdering innocents a daily event. I ran to the first one that fell, but it was too late to help her. It was a young woman with red hair and business attire, probably a secretary or banker. Her mouth was opened unnaturally wide in a scream, and her unhinged jaw held a massive apple. I took the apple out of her mouth, and closed her eyes with my palm. Then I opened the tiny scroll to read the message.
“Tick tock,” was all the note said this time. Whatever Zeus was planning, it was going to happen soon. We couldn’t afford to sit around and hope for a solution. The genie’s warning rang in my ears. If you keep him, he will be destroyed. I had to find a way to break the spell, and time was running out.
7
“Absolutely not,” Able said at dinner. I waited until the table had been cleared, and waiters brought out strawberry shortcake, before broaching the topic of a possible trip to Egypt.
“I understand now, it’s a human thing, a seeker thing,” I said, holding up the tightly-bound statue. “But if this love spell is related to the binding charm I used on Sitri, I need to learn how it works; how to bind people together like this, and unbind them. The genie said Isis would know about this magic.”
“Of course he learned it from Isis,” Stephanie darkly. “And get that disgusting thing off my table.”
“You knew?” I asked, my eyes widening. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s complicated,” she said, popping a strawberry into her mouth.
“I don’t understand. If you want me to defeat Zeus, we have to break his binding spell first. It’s literally about saving the world at this point, but you don’t even seem to care. You’re willing to let Sitri die because you and Isis have history?”
“I suppose it doesn’t hurt to tell her,” Able said gently, squeezing her hand. She sighed and pushed away her plate.
“Tell me what?” I asked.
“About Isis,” he said, “and what she means to this family.”
There was a shift of energy around the table, Mist crossed her arms and Tori stared at the table. Apparently Isis wasn’t a polite topic for dinner conversation. I wondered what could possibly be worse than anything else they’d told me; this whole family seemed to run on incest and betrayal.
“Fine,” Dion said, grabbing a bottle of port in a dark blue bottle, and pouring it into small wine glasses. “But first, a toast.”
“A toast to what?” Alice asked, raising her glass eagerly.
“A toast to wine, and friends, and family.”
Sarah held out her empty glass, and he filled it halfway with a wink. Able emptied his glass in one gulp, took a deep breath, and began.
“A long, long time ago,” Able said, “my brother was the king of Olympus. We were a strong, stable family, and we all lived together. But Zeus was insatiable in his conquests. His wife, Hera, usually looked the other way, when it was just some mortal woman. She’d pretend to ignore his behavior, unless she couldn’t. When Zeus’s philandering bore a bastard child, she would go off the rails. Zeus loved all his children, because they were heroes – stronger than normal humans, with unique gifts. He used the human population as his own genetic breeding experiment, mating with different kinds of humans and creatures, fascinated by the results.”
I looked over at Sarah, but she was busy licking whipped cream off her spoon. I didn’t like thinking of her as a bastard or genetic experiment.
“One of the first really serious fights though, was the case of Io. She was a maiden at the temple of Hera.”
“And Zeus seduced her?” Jessie asked.
“More than that,” Tori said. “He made her his mistress. He was smitten with her. It went on for years.”
“She was a powerful witch, and clever. When she had access to Zeus’s energy, she was able to make all kinds of delightful spells Zeus had never seen before. She kept him enthralled. Until one day Hera stormed their love nest, ready to smite the girl and chastise her husband.”
“Zeus turned Io into a beautiful white heifer,” Able continued, “hoping to hide her from Hera. But she saw through the disguise, and demanded he present her with the cow as an offering. Zeus couldn’t refuse without admitting his affair, so Hera took the cow and kept it captive, watched over by Arg
us – a loyal servant with a hundred watchful eyes all over his body.”
“Hera figured Zeus would find another partner, and things would go back to normal, but he was infatuated with Io. Eventually, he sent his second youngest son, Hermes, a gifted musician, to put Argos to sleep so Io could escape.”
“Second son?” Jessie asked. “Who’s the youngest?”
Dion raised his glass and nodded. His cheeks were already red.
“He’s older than you?” Sarah asked, pointing between Dion’s beards and Sam’s cherubic face.
“Yeah, but only by a few millennia,” Dion said, filling up his glass again.
“Hera was angry at being betrayed, and sent a gadfly to torment Io so she could never rest, and Zeus could never visit her. Eventually, she found her way to Egypt, and the married couple struck a deal: Hera would return Io to her human form, but Zeus could never look at her again.”
“After having spent so much time with the gods, however, Io had stored up both power and knowledge. With her long life span, she delved into the secrets of the universe, became the most powerful witch ever, and eventually a god in her own right; the goddess of the Egyptians, whom they called Isis.”
“What, so Io and Isis is the same person?” Jessie asked.
“She’s often portrayed with horns on her head; as bovine goddess and also goddess of the crescent moon. She was human, now she’s a goddess. It’s said, her knowledge of the magical arts is more enhanced than anyone else’s, ever.”
