by J Thompson
“Stop it!” she screeched out. Panic had started as Mike was no longer moving. “Stop it right now or I will blow your goddamn head off.” She was bluffing, she didn’t even know if she would hit Clint, but she hoped the threat would work.
Instead, Clint kicked Mike one last time then walked around him. His battered face was almost unrecognisable, but his eyes now glowed bright with a gold hue.
“What are you?” Belinda whispered.
Clint walked around Mike’s body and towards the wooden box. He bent and collected it and then stood confidently in front of Belinda, as if unafraid of the gun she held.
“What am I? Now that is a good question. You mortals are so close-minded and you never think outside of the box.” Clint sighed. “Clint here was easy to control, his thoughts were already corrupt; wanting things he shouldn't.” Clint laughed, “Oh I am sorry, my dear.” He smiled again then bowed.
“My name is Apollo, lord and god of the sun.”
Belinda’s mouth opened… a god. But then, she shouldn’t really be surprised, after all, she did have a bottle named Cupid’s Essence in her handbag.
“I see you are struck dumb by my mere presence. Please forgive my appearance. Clint is not as handsome as my true form.” He started to babble, seemingly to enjoy the sound of his own voice, as he passed the wooden box from one hand to the other. “I had great power but it was taken from me, and this…” He held up the box, “will help restore what is rightfully mine and help me seek my vengeance.” With that said, Apollo/Clint opened the wooden box. His face instantly changed, his smile gone and instead replaced by a sneer. Hate filled his golden eyes.
“Where is it?” he shouted, and threw the empty wooden box to the floor.
Belinda stood her ground, both hands gripped the gun and it still shook. Clint/Apollo’s faced morphed with rage, scaring her more than anything she had seen before. He stepped close; his large hand reached out and once again gripped her throat.
“I WANT THE ESSENCE!”
BOOM!!
The sound of the gunshot echoed once again through the empty garden and Belinda opened her eyes, not even realising that she had closed them when she had pressed her finger to the trigger and pulled.
Clint’s/Apollo’s eyes dimmed from gold, back to the dull grey and his shocked face turned slack as he slid to the floor at Belinda’s feet. She could hear the sound of his chest as it wheezed in and out in an attempt to get air into his lungs.
With him forgotten, Belinda rushed to Mike’s side. Falling to her knees, she dropped the gun and she pulled his head onto her lap.
“Mike, honey, please open your eyes, look at me.” No answer, his eyes fluttered and his breathing was shallow, but he didn’t wake. She couldn’t stop the sobbing once it had started. She pulled at her jacket and pressed it into the wound which was now free from the knife. The multiple kicks had knocked it free and Mike was now losing a lot of blood.
“You can’t leave me Mike, not when we’ve just found each other,” she sobbed. “Don’t go, Mike!”
Belinda looked around her, before screaming for help. She had dropped her handbag after Clint had attacked her, so she couldn’t get to her mobile.
“PLEASE! ANYONE? HELP ME!” She called into the night, her heart already knowing Mike didn’t have much chance.
Cupid watched, stunned at the scene that had just unfolded. It was hard to believe that in the space of only half an hour, his mortal had gone from being on her first proper date to now firing a gun in self-defence. It all seemed to happen in slow motion; the fight, the screams and then the gunshot. Cupid had always prided himself on being a selfish bastard, but seeing the mortal female scream in terror and react like a fecking soldier both scared him and made him a tad proud.
Hades still had hold of both of his arms, stopping him from entering the fray. The minute shit had gone down, Cupid had wanted to step in and save Belinda. He frowned, when had he learned her name? That was unusual in itself, but the fear that was all over her face now as she ignored the fallen Clint and rushed to be by Mike’s side, pulled at the heart strings he never knew he had, until Psyche.
Cupid looked to his wife, seeing her hugging Aphrodite. Both had streams of tears that ran down their beautiful faces as they too watched the battle that had occurred.
He looked again back towards where the mortals were lay sprawled upon the grass out the back of the pub. There were benches dotted around and a small climbing frame. The area would be lovely in the summer but now, in the dark, in the cold, it was creepy.
Belinda’s weeping filled the silence and Cupid focused his senses on the two fallen males. He didn't think Clint had suffered a mortal wound but it had done its job in stopping him, that and the damage it had done had also expelled Apollo’s presence from the unknowing male and sent him back to his prison in the underworld.
That god, if he had his way, would be punished severely for what he had done here, that and his actions to others. Cupid shook his head and pulled his arms free of Hades.
“Get the fuck off,” he growled out and walked towards his wife, taking her in his arms and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, well aware that some of the blame was his. This always happened when he got involved. Cupid just didn’t seem to learn the lesson; this time he would.
He didn’t wait for a reply from Psyche; instead, he walked towards where Belinda sat in the wet grass cradling Mike’s head in her lap as she pressed her jacket into his wound.
Clint had pulled a serrated kitchen knife from somewhere when Mike had appeared and knocked the gun from his hand. He could see Belinda was doing little to stop the blood flow that pulsed from his body. Her hands were too small and the jacket being made of faux leather wasn’t exactly amazing at staunching the blood flow.
But what broke his heart now, was hearing a battered and bruised Belinda sob as she held Mike’s head in her lap. Her cries hurt him, actually made his heart feel like it was about to break and for all of her efforts, he knew there was little she could do to stop the inevitable.
“Help them for fucks sake,” he growled out, he couldn’t- no, he wouldn’t watch this happen. “Surely we owe the two mortals this much.” He turned towards his fellow gods, his voice on the verge of begging.
“Cupid, you know the rules,” Hades deep voice called out from the shadows. Even dressed in mortal clothing he could vanish into the dark.
“Oh fuck off with your rules, Hades. We both know they mean jack shit these days.” Cupid had had it with rules and what you can and can’t do. So he turned to the one person who may actually be on his side in all of this. He looked at Aphrodite and clasped his hands together. This time he did beg.
“Please help them. You know I don't have that power.”
“Goddess,” Hades called out, his tone set as a warning. But he was stopped from speaking by the upraised, perfectly manicured hand of Aphrodite. Cupid grinned, seeing her act all rebellious gave him a hint to where some of his traits came from and not just because he was an arsehole.
“Hades, shut up, I swear you have a skull made from granite. Have you seriously not listened to anything I have said recently?”
She shook her head and waved both hands in front of her as she mumbled about mens inability to listen, he owes her shit etc., the list went on. In the end, Cupid had to turn away, her mumbles were distracting and they had a job to do.
That and the God of the underworld had a lot to deal with back in his plain. Somehow, Apollo had gained the ability to effect the mortals from his prison. Cupid would happily volunteer to help beat some sense into that prick, but that would have to wait until later.
Just as it had happened in the pub, when Psyche had busted him and the Essence had gone a little bit mental, time stopped. Belinda’s cries of sorrow and anguish went silent and all movement, but for that of the gods, stopped. The silence was deafening and Cupid didn’t like it, which was one of the reasons he preferred living on the mortal plain; Olympus was
too quiet.
He watched as the Goddess of Love and his creator stepped forward, her power pulsed as she whispered her sacred words. Not many got to witness the true power of love and it was a sight to behold.
Where Cupid’s power was a pale pink, Aphrodite’s was deep red with hints of purples and pinks. In his creator’s presence, he felt his own power pick up as if trying to merge and return.
“Cupid, lock your power away, I would hate to drain you of it,” she called out, just as she bent her head. Her words were strong and echoed in the silence. “I will not heal him completely, the mortals would never understand. But I will stop the bleeding enough so the ambulance can arrive in time and he can be healed their way.”
Cupid nodded and looked at his mortal; tears stained her face, along with a brutal bruise across her cheek where Apollo had struck her. That's when he had gone a little bit batshit mental himself. That had been when Hades had had to restrain him. If there was one thing that got him riled up, it was violence on women
“My love,” Psyche whispered as her hands rested on his shoulders, squeezing reassuringly. “I have called for an ambulance. All will be well my love, but we need to leave, now.”
She rested her head on his shoulder as they watched Aphrodite finish with her spell and step back towards Hades.
“Go,” he said sternly and turned to kiss Psyche on the lips. “I will return when I know my interference hasn't caused permanent damage.” He smiled, only a slight tilt of the lips that told her it would be ok, but this was something he had to do on his own. The voices of the gods became almost forgotten as he walked back towards the frozen couple.
“Come Hades, let us have a chat,” Aphrodite called out to Hades in an almost teacher/student kind of way.
“What about, Aphrodite? I am doing everything you said.” Hades said sulkily.
“You, my lord, don’t listen.”
A bright flash of light signalled the departure of the gods, neither one asking for thanks, and neither one would get it. The mortals deserved their help, it was the least they could have done. Cupid was left in the dark alone and ready, for once, to take responsibility for his actions as time returned to normal. The god of love changed to that of an old gentleman bending to help Belinda as the ambulance arrived, just as promised by Psyche. All would be well; he would make sure of it.
Belinda smiled at the old man as he wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and handed her, her handbag. He had been the only one to respond to her cry for help, but his swift action may have just saved Mike’s life. The paramedics had stabilised him on the grass and were now transferring him to the ambulance. They had been quick to put her at ease when she was convinced that he had gone. Whatever she had done with her jacket, it had stopped the bleeding long enough that, when they had arrived, they could patch him up until they could get Mike into surgery.
“Miss? Can I get you anything else?” the old gentleman asked.
Belinda shook her head and watched the paramedics wheel Mike into the back of the ambulance. She was unable to accompany them in the ambulance and the police wanted to question her about what had happened.
“No thank you, but thank you so much for your help.”
“Not a bother Miss, you need me just call, ok?” He smiled and waddled off into the pub.
She couldn’t seem to turn her mind off from what had happened and was unsure exactly what to tell the police, other than Clint going crazy and attacking her. She couldn’t very well say that he had been possessed by an ancient Greek god who harboured plans of vengeance. Even that seemed farfetched and if she hadn’t of just been through it, she would have never believed it.
Picking up her handbag, Belinda went through it to find her phone along with the bottle that had been the cause of the havoc that had occurred, only to find it missing. Frowning, she got to her feet and paced around the grass where it had been and where the box had been thrown, only to find them both missing. Strange, she thought. But did she really need them now?
“Miss Adams?” an officer called as they sent Clint off in another ambulance. When she had shot him she had, of course, closed her eyes and the shot had gone into his shoulder and not his chest. Still, she had done enough to stop him and now he was handcuffed and would be dealt with by the police.
“Yes officer?” Belinda said and tried not to wince as her voice croaked. Her throat hurt, as was expected.
“Would you like to accompany me to the hospital where we can get you looked at, and also, we will need to take a statement.”
“Yes, of course.” Belinda nodded and followed the officer to the car park, she would be happy when she could go home. Go home and try to forget this whole ordeal.
This night couldn’t end quickly enough.
†
Mike opened his eyes and then closed them again instantly. The bright lights gave him an instant headache. Every muscle in his body ached and his stomach felt like he had been ripped apart.
“Shit, that hurts,” Mike cried out as he tried to move, only to set off a round of beeping. When he opened his eyes, he found himself on a hospital bed hooked up to a multitude of machines. With each movement more and more alarms reacted until a nurse finally entered the room to turn them off.
“Sir, please don’t tug at the lines.”
“Where the hell am I?” he grumbled out as he was pushed back onto his back. She ignored his question as she checked his vitals and then worked on switching off the monitors.
“Lady, what the hell happened?” Mike had a total mind blank and whenever he tried to think about the last thing he could remember, his headache got worse.
“Just a second sir, now you are awake I will fetch your girlfriend; she hasn’t left your side since you came in.”
Girlfriend? Since when did he have a girlfriend? He would surely remember that. Instead of questioning it, he kept quiet and waited for the nurse to leave the room.
Mike closed his eyes and rested his head back against the pillows and tried to think, but everything just seemed a blur.
“Mike?” a soft voice called and he opened his eyes once more. There stood a beautiful woman with long, dark hair and hypnotic eyes, but… why couldn't he remember her name or who she was?
“Hi,” he croaked out, his voice just as husky as hers. It was then, as she approached, he noticed the large black/green bruise that covered her left cheek and the deep purple marks that covered her neck.
“What the hell happened to you?” he blurted out.
She blushed as she sat on the edge of his bed and took his hand, stroking the skin. She seemed so focused on his hand that she didn’t answer. Until a quiet voice, followed by tear filled eyes, pulled his attention.
“I was convinced I had lost you Mike. When he stabbed you I thought that was it.”
Mike didn’t reply, but that snippet of information answered the question as to why he felt like his insides had been put in a blender.
As he looked at her beautiful face, a string of images flashed through his mind and made the headache ten times worse.
“Ahhh shit,” he called out as he threw his hands to his head, cupping it in an effort to fight the pain. Every image of him and the lady together played out in his head. Every feeling he felt, everything he said slowly filtered back in, leading up until the attack and the stabbing.
“Belinda,” he whispered as he fought the pain.
“Mike, are you ok?” she asked and he felt her soft hands on his own.
“Belinda…Oh god, Belinda!” Mike pulled her arms and pulled her up and over his lap, regardless of the wires and the pain his stomach was in.
“Fuck, baby. How did you get away, what happened?” He stroked the bruise on her face and then the ones on her neck, feeling himself get angry all over again.
“I shot him, Mike.”
“You what?” He was stunned, feelings of pride and affection coursed through him, this woman was simply amazing. She continued on with her story, showing just how much of a w
arrior his girl truly was.
“I shot him. He kept kicking you after he had stabbed you and I got so angry I just… pulled the trigger.” She had started to sob as she relived what had happened. He pulled her closer and laid small kisses upon her temple.
“I was so scared Mike, scared for you,” she sobbed out and then looked up into his eyes. God, she was stunning even after she had been crying. Cupping her face, he smiled back.
“Baby, I don’t think anything could keep us apart now, do you?” He grinned as she shook her head and reached up to grab his face, her hands fluttering across his cheeks.
“No Mike, I’ve decided to keep you.”
“Oh I like the sound of that, baby,” he chuckled and leaned his head back against the pillows and pulled her tight against him. A feeling of exhaustion had started to set in but he was determined not let her go; not now, not ever. It had taken long enough to get her in his arms. He wanted to know what had gone on after he had lost consciousness so without stalling, he asked. “What happened to Clint baby, tell me?”
He felt her snuggle into him and he relaxed as he listened.
“He was arrested for attempted murder on you and attacking me. He was also investigated for stalking.”
“Stalking?” Mike asked. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Belinda admitted as she pressed her face into his chest. “Mike, Clint had been following me for months. The police checked out his home and found that he had pictures of me and had been buying items, like the gun and other stuff.” He felt her shiver against him.
“They said he had been under the care of a psychologist but had gone AWOL from his care centre.”
“It’s ok now baby, he won’t hurt you anymore.” Mike used his fingers to tilt Belinda’s face towards his and changed the subject once again, this time to more positive news.
“So, you are my girlfriend now, eh?” he asked with a grin.
Belinda countered but she was also smiling. “Well, they wouldn’t let me in otherwise.”
