Against All Gods

by Maz Evans

  ‘Do what exactly?’ said Patricia. ‘I’ve told you already, Davey-poos: I’m sorry if you’ve changed your mind, but . . .’

  ‘I haven’t changed anything,’ Dave growled. ‘I’m telling you – the man who sold you this house wasn’t me.’

  Patricia fixed the grin to her face. She knew something strange was afoot. The man she’d dealt with a few days ago had been years younger than this one. All right, so he was a bit concerned about the brat, but no one aged that quickly. And she should know – she hadn’t aged a day in twenty years.

  The David Hooper before her was definitely the one she remembered from years ago. Upstanding. Reasonable. Annoying. Not like the two-faced smug Dave Hooper she’d dealt with last week. She’d rather liked that one. No, this was a different man – in every sense. But that was his problem. The legal paperwork said that Home Farm was hers and that David Hooper had sold it to her. Anything else didn’t trouble her absent conscience one bit.

  ‘I understand you’re a little . . . attached to the place, poppet,’ she continued. ‘But it’s mine now. Briefly, anyway. It will be sold the day after tomorrow. Unless you’ve had any luck with the lawyers . . .’

  She revelled for a moment in David’s proud discomfort. The man didn’t have two pennies to rub together. He had nothing. There was no way he could afford a legal challenge – and even if he could, it would be far too late. There was nothing he could do. And she was loving it.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ she pouted. ‘Well, then, let’s say no more about it. Let’s talk about happier things. Have you found . . . the boy?’

  David’s jaw twitched. This was just too, too sweet.

  ‘Not yet,’ he replied. ‘But I will. You can be sure of that.’

  ‘Of course!’ said Patricia. ‘I’d be out looking myself, of course, but I’m just so busy with this auction. Why, only this morning I had to watch someone shampooing the rugs . . . Do let me know when they find the little . . . darling. After all, I am his legal guardian.’

  David took a menacing step forward, catching her off guard. She wobbled unsteadily, holding on to the table for support.

  ‘Just in case I’ve been in any way unclear,’ he growled, leaning towards her. ‘You might have stolen my farm. I can live with that. But it will be a freezing day in hell, Patricia Porshley-Plum, before you get your bloated, greedy, evil fingers anywhere NEAR my boy. I have lost everything. But I will not lose my son. Do you understand me?’

  Patricia was now bent so far backwards over the table, she could have limboed beneath it.

  ‘Perfectly,’ she whispered, pulling herself back to standing. ‘But I wouldn’t get too excited if I were you. Personally, I find the child to be rather a dull creature – it’s terrible what happens when there isn’t a father around to—’

  SMASH!

  The vase of fresh flowers shattered against the wall, sending fragments of wet glass across the kitchen like a shower of diamonds. Patricia gasped.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Dave quietly. ‘Did I disturb your concentration, Patricia? Do carry on.’

  ‘All done,’ said Patricia quietly. Life had taught her never to play against someone with nothing to lose. They were by far the most dangerous opponents.

  Dave straightened himself and turned to leave. Patricia found herself releasing a small sigh of relief.

  ‘You see a lot in prison,’ he said. ‘More than I ever want to see again. But one thing became very clear, very quickly. There’s always someone bigger and badder than you. You might have taken our home. We might not be able to fight back. But trust me, Patricia, someone out there will bring you down. Someone will see you get yours. And Elliot and I will be there to cheer that someone on when they do. I’m going to find my son and we’ll make a new home. Together. What will your money bring you? Think about that.’

  And with determined steps crunching on broken glass, David Hooper strode out of the front door.

  Patricia paused for a moment and considered what he had just said. He made a good point. What could her money bring her?

  Better security, for one thing, she mentally noted and returned to her checklist in preparation for the auction.

  But David Hooper was more right than Patricia could have known. Because at that very moment, just outside Home Farm, someone was watching her every move. Someone was plotting just how Patricia might get hers. And that someone couldn’t wait to see Patricia Horse’s-Bum come crashing down, if it was the last thing they did.

  13. Reunited

  Virgo looked at the mortal boy sleeping fitfully in Hermes’s sidecar. Having reclaimed his trusty motorbike from a car park on the immortal low-way – how he was going to pay all those parking fines was a matter for another day – Hermes had driven unusually steadily through the night and was now winding up a cloudy path back to Olympus.

  ‘He’ll be OK,’ the Messenger God whispered, winking at her. ‘He’s with us now.’

  Virgo wished she could share Hermes’s optimism. Thanatos had the Chaos Stone. Elliot had lost Josie-Mum to the Afterlife for ever. The Daemon army was free. And she hadn’t visited the lavatory for several hours. In her considered, brilliant analysis of the situation, everything was somewhat sub-optimal. In fact, it was borderline pants.

  The motorbike revved up the long stretch of road. For the first time since she left Elysium, Virgo felt a curious sense of dread. She had faced dangerous situations, of course. Using the bathroom after Elliot had proven life-threatening on several occasions. But this was different. She had always had unshakeable faith in the Gods’ ability to protect her. Now Thanatos had the Chaos Stone, everything had changed. By the Gods’ own admission, they never would have defeated Thanatos two thousand years ago, when they were mighty warriors, had it not been for Hypnos’s treachery – he had stolen the Chaos Stones from his brother and handed them over to Zeus. Now Thanatos had them back, what were their chances?

  Elliot twitched in his sleep next to her. Without understanding why, she found herself putting her hand on his head and stroking his hair. This seemed to soothe him, so she continued.

  ‘Nice one,’ said Hermes, with a smile Virgo didn’t fully understand but was too preoccupied to analyse.

  She reluctantly allowed herself to think the thought that she had been suppressing since her incarceration in Tartarus:

  What if Thanatos wins?

  The Gods would be punished for sure – imprisoned . . . or worse. And what about her? She was mortal now. She could . . .

  Virgo had never seriously contemplated dying before. After all, she’d never needed to. As an immortal, there was never going to be a point at which she just . . . stopped being. Whilst she had her kardia, she’d been able to take it for granted that she was going to stay alive. But what now?

  She had planned simply to live for ever, watching the world change, while never changing herself. That came with its own problems, of course – trying to find a book you hadn’t read or film you hadn’t seen was no fun at all. But life would continue whatever you did. There was nothing to be afraid of, because, in truth, she’d never had anything to fear.

  But now that had changed. There was a distinct possibility that Virgo could . . . not be any more. That there would come a point when she would simply cease to exist. She felt incredibly sorry for the world. After all, a world without her in it would be an infinitely lesser place. It was a troubling thought, so she chose not to think it any more.

  ‘Nearly there,’ Hermes announced as the bike turned off the main cloud road to a smaller wispy track. ‘Hold tight.’

  Again, without entirely realizing it, Virgo put her arms around Elliot to cushion him from the bumpy road. In fact, she was so concerned about Elliot’s comfort that she didn’t look up for several moments. When she raised her head, Mount Olympus was rearing majestically above them.

  Virgo had never been to the Gods’ ancestral home and was rather overawed by what she saw. Through the mist enveloping the grey mountain, a building came into view – a
mighty temple, with golden pillars supporting the triangular roof. It was surrounded by gardens that, though a little worse for wear, gave a sense of the majesty of this place in its day. As they drew closer, she could see that every inch of the marble structure was ornately carved with images of the Gods and their fabled adventures. It was truly a palace fit for the Olympians.

  The bike drew to a gentle halt and Elliot stirred from his sleep.

  ‘Mum?’ he groaned, in the dozy moment before reality struck him. Virgo’s heart ached as she saw the weight of the world return to his shoulders. She knew that sensation only too well – many was the morning she’d awoken, convinced she was riding a marshmallow unicorn in Elysium, only to find she had fallen asleep on the lavatory again.

  ‘It’s all right, mate, we’re here,’ said Hermes softly, holding Elliot’s hand. ‘Take your time.’

  Elliot’s face clouded with the memories of all that had happened in the past few days. Virgo wished he could hold on to those moments where everything was OK for much, much longer.

  ‘Where’s here?’ he asked once he was fully conscious, pulling himself up in the sidecar to look around.

  ‘My gaff,’ said Hermes. ‘Mount Olympus.’

  Elliot continued to look confused. But Hermes simply grinned at him.

  ‘Epic mega-multi-bosh – it’s good to see you, mate,’ he said softly. ‘Come here, little man. I’ve missed your ugly mug.’

  Elliot hesitated for a moment. But a cheeky wink from Hermes sent him diving into the arms of his closest ally.

  ‘Come on – let’s get you little ankle-biters inside. I’m starving.’

  Virgo hopped off the bike and followed Hermes towards the great building. But Elliot didn’t move.

  ‘E?’ asked Hermes. ‘Not being funny, but I’ve already flown you about once today. You ain’t getting any lighter – you’re on your own now.’

  Elliot looked at his shoes. Virgo knew this was often a sign of remorse. Or uncertainty that his shoes were on the correct feet.

  ‘Is . . . Is everyone here?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘The whole gang. You’re gonna meet the lot – you have been warned, they are more bonkers than fluorescent animal print . . .’

  ‘Is . . . Zeus here?’

  Virgo had been imprisoned in Tartarus when Elliot and Zeus last met, but Hermes had told her that the mortal child and the King of the Gods had not parted on good terms. Elliot continued to look at his feet. Clearly he was anxious about this meeting. Or his shoes really were on the wrong feet.

  ‘Mate,’ said Hermes, coming over the sidecar and helping Elliot to the ground. ‘It’s like the bathroom scales on the second of January. You gotta face it sometime. Best get it over with, eh? And just like that fifteenth helping of turkey dinner, there’s nothing that can’t be undone. All right?’

  Elliot nodded, but looked far from sure.

  ‘Bosh,’ said Hermes, giving Elliot a gentle fist-bump. ‘Let’s ’ave it.’

  They walked together beneath the pillars and into a marble hallway with beautiful mosaics on every wall. Virgo spotted Hestia up a ladder muttering to herself about ‘curb appeal’ while hanging some new velvet curtains to replace the faded drapes. Ahead was a mighty set of golden doors. Elliot hesitated again.

  ‘Here we are,’ said Hermes, dragging him forward and grasping the mighty door handle. ‘Home sweet home. Come on in.’

  The Messenger God gave the door an almighty shove and Virgo peeked inside. Around a massive table, the Olympians and Zodiac Council were assembled in their formal robes, watching Ares, the God of War point to a diagram of a . . . Virgo wasn’t entirely sure what it was. But she didn’t have time to look again.

  ‘Hi, honey, I’m home!’ Hermes bellowed into the room. ‘And look what the Sphynx dragged in!’

  The very air in the room seemed to draw breath as the Olympians took in the new arrivals.

  ‘Elly!’ squealed Aphrodite at last, gathering up her robes and sprinting to the door. ‘Thank the Gods you’re all right!’

  ‘Elliot!’ Athene cried, running up behind her sister and barging her out of the way to hug Elliot first. ‘How are you? Are you hurt?’

  Virgo, like everyone else in the room, was looking at Zeus, who was at the far end of the table. Through the tangle of Goddess arms, Elliot too was staring straight at him. After countless hugs and kisses, the Goddesses eventually moved aside as their father slowly walked the length of the chamber.

  Virgo was usually outstanding at assessing situations. But this one she couldn’t read. Was the King of the Gods angry? Was Hermes wrong to bring Elliot here? Her fingers found their way towards Elliot’s and he clasped them gratefully.

  Zeus came to a halt in front of Elliot. The two stared at each other, both seemingly at a loss for words.

  Eventually, Elliot took a long breath. ‘Zeus,’ he began uncertainly. ‘I’m—’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Zeus blurted out, tears filling the wrinkles around his aged eyes.

  ‘You’re . . . what?’ Elliot asked.

  ‘I’m just so, so sorry,’ Zeus continued, wiping the tears from his cheek. ‘I failed you terribly. I should have known. I should have seen what Thanatos was doing to you. I should never have burdened you with the Chaos Stones. Can you ever forgive me?’

  Elliot stood dumbstruck.

  ‘Forgive you?’ said Elliot. ‘All you’ve tried to do is help me. Me and . . . Mum. And I betrayed you. I gave Thanatos the Chaos Stone – I wasn’t planning to . . . Or maybe I was, I don’t know . . . But he said he could give me Mum back and I was so confused and then she . . . I’m . . . just . . . sorry.’

  ‘Elliot,’ Zeus whispered, putting his hands on the boy’s trembling shoulders. ‘All you did was be a child. You don’t ever have to apologize for that. I have no such excuse. I’ll ask you again. Can you forgive me?’

  Elliot stared into the boundless blue eyes of the King of the Gods . . . before collapsing gratefully into his arms.

  Virgo found her eyes were watering – and she wasn’t alone. The Great Hall must have been dustier than they had all realized.

  After a few still moments, Elliot released himself from the giant hug. He wiped his eyes and straightened his shirt.

  ‘Now,’ he said with a longer, steadier breath. ‘How do we kick Thanatos’s butt?’

  The King of the Gods gave him a grateful squeeze. Virgo recalled what her time on Earth had taught her about forgiveness. It was even more powerful than biscuits.

  ‘Glad you asked,’ Zeus replied, leading Elliot to the table. ‘We’re just discussing that. Meet the family – Ares, Dionysus, Apollo, Artemis. You know the Zodiac Council . . .’

  The Gods and Councillors waved their cautious greetings. Virgo felt a rising indignation.

  ‘Don’t blame them,’ Elliot whispered, somehow reading her thoughts. ‘I’m the reason they’re in this mess.’

  ‘The mess was there long before you came along,’ Virgo hissed back. ‘It’s not your fault that you landed in it.’

  Elliot looked at her and smiled in a way he never had before. She rather liked it.

  ‘Sho, as I was shaying,’ said Ares, ‘what we need ish a roush, a schecret, a dishguishe . . .’

  ‘Top-hole,’ said Zeus. ‘That’s just the ticket. I’ll lead the charge.’

  ‘Pfffffft,’ snorted Hera in derision.

  ‘Something to say, O wrinkly one?’ Zeus snarled.

  ‘I’m just suggesting that you are perhaps not best placed to lead the attack.’

  ‘How dare you!’ Zeus said. ‘I’m a master of disguise.’

  ‘Is that so?’ said Hera, leaning forward and hitting a button that unfurled a giant piece of parchment from the ceiling. ‘As the Council is aware, I have been observing the Olympians for some time. You can read my key findings in my report, Past It and Useless. But a picture paints a thousand words. I feel that this sorry episode sums up my concerns even more elegantly than I can.’

  Hera flicked a remote
control, projecting a film on to the giant parchment screen. Virgo had a feeling this wasn’t going to be a celebration of Zeus’s finest achievements.

  ‘That’s the Tower of London,’ said Zeus. ‘This is hardly the time for your ruddy holiday snaps.’

  ‘I don’t have any holiday snaps,’ said Hera. ‘You got the camera in the divorce.’

  ‘You got my dog!’ shouted Zeus. ‘I loved Herodotus.’

  ‘Oh, he’s a wonderful companion – he’s getting so big now,’ said Hera smugly. ‘I’ll show you some photos . . . Oh no, that’s right. I don’t have a camera.’

  ‘What the deuce is this?’ said Zeus as the film began. ‘What on Earth has this got to do with Thanatos and . . . oh.’

  Elliot craned his neck to see. The battle at the Tower of London played on the screen. Zeus and his children cringed with shame as their butts were handed to them by a quartet of zombie beefeaters.

  ‘This is brilliant!’ guffawed Taurus, snorting a piece of popcorn out of his nose. ‘I haven’t laughed this hard since Satyrs Do the Funniest Things.’

  Hera’s thin lips curled into a triumphant smile as the chamber rang with laughter. Virgo waited for Zeus to wipe it off her face with a thunderbolt.

  ‘Doesn’t look like you’re in any fit state to trick Thanatos,’ said Hera, pausing the film. She gestured to the image of Zeus flat on his back with his legs in the air. ‘And as for those poor mortals – how do you propose protecting them when you can’t defeat four pensioner beefeaters?’

  ‘Lady Hera hash a point,’ said Ares. ‘For thish plan to work, we need shtealth. Apologiesh, Zeush, but you’re about ash shtealthy ash a dinoshaur.’

  ‘Besides,’ Hephaestus grumbled. ‘You’re too ruddy big.’

  ‘Steady on, old boy,’ said Zeus, sucking his stomach in defensively.

  ‘We need someone smaller to fit in . . . the thing,’ said Hephaestus. ‘Besides – you still can’t go to the Underworld.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ said Elliot, before he’d had time to think about what he’d volunteered for.

  ‘You’ve been through quite enough already,’ said Athene. ‘You stay here where it’s safe.’