by Maz Evans
‘Yes, that one,’ he said quietly. ‘Not that I have any knowledge of . . .’
‘Just. Be. Quiet,’ hissed Virgo menacingly. ‘Now, here’s what we’re going to do. On my count, we are all going to run against the wall. This cell has been here for millennia, it must have a structural weak spot. This is the most optimal way of finding it.’
‘Right,’ said Taurus officiously, ‘all those in favour—’
‘No!’ said Virgo firmly. ‘No more votes. It’s time for action. Everyone find a piece of wall.’
The Councillors looked around the small, square cell.
‘Who goes where?’ asked Libra. ‘I can draw a flow chart if that would help?’
The other Council members nodded enthusiastically, but Virgo started shoving them towards the cell walls. Within a few moments, they were all in place.
‘OK,’ said Virgo. ‘On my count, we are all going to run at the wall in front of us and find the weak spot. We can then focus our efforts on that weakness in order to break through the wall. Are you ready?’
A chorus of unenthused grunts answered her question.
‘So, in one . . . two . . . three . . . GO!’
As one, the Councillors ran backwards from their starting positions in order to take a run-up at the wall. And, as one, they all ran into one another in the middle of the cell, ending up on the floor in a heap of scowls, scales and ‘Snordlesnots’.
Virgo sank to the ground, pulling her long brown hair in exasperation.
‘This is hopeless,’ she wailed. ‘We’re going to be stuck in here for ever.’
‘Actually,’ said Capricorn the goat, putting a comforting hoof on her shoulder. ‘That’s just not true.’
‘It isn’t?’ said Virgo, jumping to her feet. ‘Then tell me the plan, how do we get out of here?’
‘We don’t,’ said Capricorn gently. ‘We’ll be here until the end of time.’
‘So what’s your point?’
‘You’re no longer immortal,’ smiled Capricorn. ‘So you won’t be here for ever. No, no, no – you’ll just be here long enough to die a painfully slow death from starvation.’
‘That’s not true!’ shouted one Gemini twin.
‘Thank goodness for that,’ Virgo sighed.
‘Dehydration will get her first,’ the other Gemini twin piped up. ‘Mortals can live ten days without food, but only three without water. I read that in a Christmas cracker.’
‘Thanks,’ said Virgo, slumping down to the floor once more.
‘You know what we really need,’ started Aries the golden ram, ‘is a great big—’
‘Plop!’
‘Really, child – your mortal toilet habits are no-one’s business but yours—’ Aries continued.
‘Shhhhh!’ said Virgo, leaping up and pricking her ears. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘Hear what?’ grumbled Taurus. ‘All anyone ever says in here is—’
‘Plop!’
‘There it is again!’ Virgo cheered. She’d know that voice anywhere!
‘Gorgy! Gorgy, is that you?’
‘PLLLLLLLLOOOOOOPPPPPPP!’ came the jubilant reply from her baby gorgon (in no way whatsoever her pet), who had been snatched by the Titans.
Virgo looked around the cell to see where the noise was coming from. High up, she spotted a tiny chink where the walls didn’t meet perfectly. How had she missed it? She rejoiced at the small stream of green slime that was beginning to trickle down the ancient rocks.
‘Quick,’ she said, ‘help me get up there.’
‘I’ll have to undertake a full health-and-safety assessment,’ sighed Pisces.
‘Right now, the biggest threat to your health and safety is me!’ snapped Virgo. ‘Now help me up.’
Slowly, and with the maximum amount of discussion and disagreement, the Councillors formed a sort of immortal ladder, which Virgo started tentatively to climb.
‘Ouch!’ snapped Taurus as she trod on his head. ‘Mind where you’re putting your feet!’
‘Mind where you’re putting your gigantic bum!’ moaned the Gemini twins as they struggled to support Sagittarius between them.
‘Stay still,’ groaned Virgo as she clambered up Cancer’s shell. ‘I’m nearly there . . .’
With one foot on Libra’s head and the other on Scorpio’s backside, Virgo finally reached the chink of light.
‘Gorgy!’ she cried, putting her eye to the crack and seeing the little gorgon standing proudly in the fiery wasteland of Tartarus beyond. ‘You found me!’
‘Mama!’ said Gorgy, stretching out his little arms.
Virgo felt her heart perform some sort of irregular rhythm at the sight of her p— Her professional acquaintance.
‘Sorry, Gorgy – Mama can’t give you a cuddle . . .’
‘Plop,’ said the baby gorgon, shaking his head and pointing to something Virgo couldn’t quite see. ‘Mama! Mama! MAMA!’
Virgo twisted her head as far as the small crevice would allow. Standing next to the youngster, similarly green and slimy, was a full-grown adult female gorgon. Her hair of snakes hissed sleepily around her head. Virgo gulped. This primitive creature was capable of untold harm if she were angered. Those snakes could turn Virgo to stone between two heartbeats. She would have to tread this negotiation very carefully.
‘HEL-LO,’ she said very slowly and loudly. She tried to sound as friendly, if still superior, as she could. This was, after all, an Elemental, the most common of the five categories of immortal.
‘HOW ARE YOU?’ she continued deliberately. If she was to establish meaningful communication with the creature, she would need to test its level of language skill with some simple questions and responses.
The adult gorgon stared at her curiously. Clearly this was a primitive species. Virgo was going to have to be very patient.
‘DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH?’ she enquired.
Again, the gorgon merely looked at her. Virgo huffed impatiently. This creature was stupid. Typical Elemental.
‘I SAID,’ she started again, ‘DO YOU SPEAK ENG—’
‘I heard you perfectly,’ replied the grown-up gorgon, raising her fingers and counting on them. ‘I was merely trying to recall precisely how many languages I do speak. I’m afraid I rather lost count at twenty-seven, but that depends whether you consider Spanish and Catalan to be two separate languages or dialects.’
‘O-Oh,’ spluttered Virgo. ‘I see. Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs . . . Gorgy.’
‘The pleasure is all mine,’ smiled the gorgon amiably. ‘I understand from my son that you have taken excellent care of him.’
‘Gorgy’s a lovely . . . child.’
‘Thank you. His father and I believe so. My name is Dr Shonley. But you can call me Rachel. And, just for reference – my son’s name is Quentin.’
‘Plop!’ squealed Gorgy happily, holding his mother’s hand.
‘Well, it’s lovely to meet you . . . Rachel,’ said Virgo, glad that the gorgon couldn’t see her blushes.
‘Will you get on with it?’ puffed Taurus. ‘Some of us are getting tired down here!’
‘Some of us are getting gassed down here,’ said the Gemini twins, holding their noses.
‘You seem to be in a bit of a bind,’ said Rachel, examining the stone prison. ‘I was wondering if I could offer my services?’
‘You’re very kind,’ said Virgo. ‘But . . . don’t gorgons normally turn things . . . into stone?’
‘Not the ones with a PhD from Cambridge University in Molecular Chemistry,’ said Rachel pleasantly. ‘I have devoted my life to researching and developing my powers. When I’ve not been travelling the world sharing my research to create sustainable energy sources and renewable materials, of course.’
‘Of course,’ said Virgo quietly. ‘What should I do?’
‘Leave it to me,’ beamed Rachel. ‘Quentin – you can help too. Just because we’re unable to work with your tutor due to our unjust and illegal detention, there’s no reason not to le
arn. Every day’s a school day. And Thanatos won’t know what’s hit him when your father gets out of here.’
‘Your husband’s a brutal monster?’ said Virgo, without thinking.
‘My husband’s a high court barrister,’ Rachel corrected. ‘So, yes. Now, Quentin – follow my lead.’
Rachel closed her eyes and began to chant beneath her breath.
‘Ancient spells?’ asked Virgo.
‘Mathematical equations,’ whispered Rachel. ‘I will just need to concentrate. If I use pi instead of calculus, I dread to think what might happen . . .’
Virgo nodded convincingly. She had of course understood every word Rachel had just said. The strange mutterings continued. Slowly, the snakes around the gorgon’s head began to rouse from their sleep and hiss softly. The hissing grew into a crescendo, the snakes dancing around her head as they worked their entrancing magic.
‘Who moved?’ groaned Pisces as the pyramid of Councillors started to shake.
‘Who knocked my water jug?’ shouted Aquarius. ‘I’ve got water running down my trousers.’
‘It had better not be coming from your trousers,’ mumbled Scorpio.
‘What’s going on?’ cried Virgo, teetering on top of her colleagues.
But her words were drowned by the hissing. She looked around – it wasn’t the Councillors who were moving, it was the wall.
‘Oh . . . bum,’ she muttered as the solid stone started to crumble in front of them. She felt the twelve Council members wobbling beneath her.
She looked over at Gorgy – Quentin – who had joined his mother in the rhythmic chanting. It was working. The walls were shaking . . .
‘LOOK OUT!’ she shouted, a nanosecond too late. Their stone prison suddenly collapsed all around them – and so too did the pile of Councillors that had been holding her up. They fell like a stack of playing cards, Virgo’s fall cushioned only by the body parts of her colleagues.
‘Well done, Quentin,’ said Rachel. ‘That’s just earned you an hour off your algebra practice.’
‘Plop!’ squealed Gorgy in delight.
‘Now, Quentin,’ said his mother sternly. ‘What have I told you about talking like a baby? You’re a big boy now. Let’s use our grown-up words.’
The young gorgon looked sheepishly at Virgo.
‘You make an excellent point, mother,’ he said grandly. ‘Although Dr Geary assures me in my advanced psychology tutorials that being in touch with my inner child is vital to healthy development.’
Virgo clambered up the pile of rubble to reach the two gorgons.
‘Thank you,’ she said sincerely. ‘I don’t know what we would have done without you.’
‘We would have held extensive seminars until we produced a dossier of potential outcomes,’ muttered Leo.
‘Exactly,’ sighed Virgo beneath her breath. ‘Right – we need to get back up to the Earth. I have to warn Elliot before it’s too late . . .’
‘It already is,’ said Quentin quietly. ‘I’m so sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, Ms Virgo, but Elliot is already here. With Thanatos. He’s preparing to collect the final Chaos Stone, before handing them over to the Daemon.’
‘No!’ gasped Virgo in disbelief.
‘I’m afraid Quentin’s account is entirely correct,’ said Rachel. ‘He wants us all to fight. But not everyone’s prepared to. As Einstein said, “Peace cannot be kept by force. It can only be achieved by understanding.”’
‘Absolutely,’ said Virgo, with her most confidence-inspiring nod. ‘That Einstein was a brilliant man. I’ve watched all of his movies.’
Dr Shonley smiled but said nothing. Virgo’s impressive intellect had clearly dazzled her.
Virgo started bundling the Councillors towards the lift that had brought them from Elysium.
‘Right, you must locate the Gods and tell them what’s going on,’ she commanded. ‘I need to stop Elliot before he makes a terrible mistake. Another one.’
‘We understand,’ said Taurus as he squeezed into the lift. ‘We leave immediately.’
‘Great,’ said Virgo, ‘now I need to – wait a minute, you’re actually going to go? Now? No votes? No PowerPoints? No pie charts?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ huffed Pisces. ‘None of those things would be appropriate right now!’
‘Absolutely,’ Aries agreed.
‘At last – so off you go, then,’ said Virgo, reaching for the button.
‘We’re out of here,’ Capricorn confirmed, stopping her hand. ‘Just as soon as we’ve found a flip chart. An effective exit strategy isn’t going to draw itself—’
‘Go – now!’ shouted Virgo, jabbing the lift button, sending her colleagues hurtling up towards Elysium above.
‘Can you take me to Elliot?’ she asked Quentin.
‘Plop!’ said Quentin grandly, with a small salute.
And so Virgo took off through the sweltering heat of Tartarus with the gorgons. Elliot needed her. The Gods needed her. The Earth needed her. It was time for Virgo to save the day.
Again.
3. Family Matters
The sound of Zeus’s fingers drumming on the long, empty table reverberated around the Great Hall on Mount Olympus like raindrops on a stormy night. He’d never been very good at waiting. And right now, he didn’t have time. He watched his two daughters pace and his son flutter around the vast space. Hephaestus, the God of the Forge, was sharpening his axe on a stone, the sound disturbing the nervous air. Enough was enough.
‘I don’t understand!’ the King of the Gods erupted. ‘Where the bally heck are they all? It’s been days!’
‘Only two. And they’ll come,’ said Athene, looking far from certain. ‘They must have seen the beacon.’
‘Why don’t we just go and get them?’ huffed Aphrodite, stamping her foot on the dusty marble floor.
‘Sis, babe, totally chillax,’ said Hermes, doing press-ups in mid-air. ‘They know the drill. In the meantime, some of us have, like, totes got enough to worry about. Like what six weeks lying around unconscious has done to my abs. Hashtag – flabs.’
‘They’ll be ’ere,’ said Hephaestus, running the stone along the length of his bronze axe. ‘Hold yer nerve.’
‘Holding his own nerve never was his forte,’ a cut-glass voice pronounced. ‘Getting on other people’s? Far more his style.’
Zeus felt the age-old rage that only one being in all the realms could inspire.
‘WHAT IN THE BLAZES OF TARTARUS IS SHE DOING HERE?’ he bellowed. ‘WE WANT TO WIN A WAR! NOT START ONE!’
Hephaestus shrugged nonchalantly.
‘You told me to find ’em all,’ he muttered. ‘So I did.’
‘And not a moment too soon,’ said Hera, Queen of the Gods, striding up the hall towards her ex-husband. ‘How could you let it come to this? Entrusting a mortal child with the Chaos Stones? Have you quite taken leave of your senses?’
‘He married you, didn’t he?’ pouted Aphrodite.
Zeus smiled appreciatively at his daughter as Hera turned her cool gaze on her stepchildren.
‘Aphrodite,’ she said with the slightest incline of her head. ‘Athene. Hermes. Delighted to see you.’
‘That makes one of us,’ replied Athene with an icy smile.
‘Hera, babe!’ grinned Hermes, flying down to kiss her hand. ‘Not being funny, but you are one haughty hot tamale.’
‘Charmed,’ said Hera, her eyebrow raising a fraction to show she was not displeased. Zeus knew this look and snorted in derision. Although he had to admit, if only to himself, that his son did have a point.
‘What rock have you been hiding under anyway?’ Zeus hissed at Hera as they stared each other down.
‘I believe you relinquished the right to know my whereabouts around the time you judged Miss World then married Miss Puerto Rico,’ said Hera, beginning to unpack her bag at the head of the table.
‘Actually,’ said Zeus, pushing his ex-wife’s belongings out of his space, ‘it was Miss Venezuela. Mis
s Puerto Rico was the runner-up.’
‘He married her six weeks later!’ giggled Aphrodite.
‘Stay calm, Father,’ whispered Athene, grabbing Zeus’s hand. ‘You know what she’s like. Don’t let her get to you.’
‘Right,’ said Hera, pulling one of two golden chairs from the head of the table. ‘Time to get started. Places, everyone.’
‘It’s just us,’ said Zeus, yanking the chair back out of her hands. ‘No one else has come. Yet.’
‘Is that so?’ scowled Hera, grabbing the chair back again. ‘Perhaps it was because you asked them?’
‘Oh, hush, you simpering shrew!’ said Zeus, seizing the chair that Hera now refused to relinquish. ‘I suppose you could have done a better job?’
Zeus could feel his former spouse pulling at the chair with surprising strength for one so slight. Their eyes locked for a moment in passionate loathing.
‘As a matter of fact,’ said Hera calmly, ‘I already have.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
And, without so much as a hair out of place, she suddenly let go, sending Zeus flying. He landed head first with the chair on his bottom and scraped what dignity he could off the floor. He turned to face her. This time there was no doubt about it. She was smiling.
‘YOU VICIOUS, HAG-FACED OLD—’
‘Come,’ Hera snapped, clapping her hands crisply.
‘You can’t command us as if we were dogs,’ said Athene, taking her place at the table.
‘If the collar fits,’ muttered Hera, as voices and footsteps blustered towards the hall. ‘Ah. They’re here.’
Zeus and his children saw a mass of bodies struggling to squeeze through the great golden doors at the same time.
‘How did you—?’ Zeus began, as his Olympian family bustled around the table.
‘Simple,’ said Hera, taking her place at his right-hand side. ‘I asked.’
‘Ye threatened us, more like,’ grumbled Poseidon, seating himself in a chair shaped like a shell. ‘Told me that if I didn’t come, ye’d boil me barnacles—’
‘I thought you said Zeus was renovating?’ said Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth, pulling swathes of fabric out of a suitcase. ‘I’ve designed this whole concept around silver chiffon—’
