Ring of Gyges

by Ines Johnson

“Next topic on Loren and Geraint’s epic journey into bromance; music. Who’s your favorite band?”

  His jaw tensed. I thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he did. “I like masinko music.”

  “I’ve never heard of that band.”

  “It’s not a band. It’s a musical instrument. Much like a guitar. Here,” he pulled out a handheld device, “why don’t you have a listen?”

  He shoved the headphones over my ears. I think he may have thought that would shut me up. Boy, was he in for a surprise.

  Chapter Eight

  I know Geraint’s intentions were to shut me up. Or at least turn me off with the masinko music. But instead, I was enchanted. We shared his earbuds and listened to four whole albums by the time we touched down in Greece.

  I wasn’t fooled into thinking we were now best friends. But at least he wasn’t sneering at me. Well, not any more than normal. And I had managed to get his Twitter handle and Facebook profile name while glancing at his phone. But he had yet to follow me or approve my friend request.

  Once we’d claimed our bags and stepped outside the airport, Geraint hailed a taxi. He opened the door and handed me inside while the driver put our luggage in the belly of the trunk. I watched the dark knight fold his form into the backseat of the car and a crinkle creased my brow.

  The first time I saw this man was atop a horse when I’d first come into the town of Camelot. He’d been an imposing figure with this chin high and his nose angled down. He’d glanced at me the same way the airport security guards had when we’d boarded. When Geraint’s gaze landed on my breasts, it wasn’t to ogle. He’d scanned for possible concealed weapons, looking for anything that might pose a threat to the people under his charge. Once I’d passed his scan, he’d ignored me and leaned back in his saddle, ever watchful for the next possible threat.

  He sat next to me now, at eye level. Even though there was a cushion at his back, he sat up straight as though he were in a saddle. His eyes scanned the interior of the car as well as its driver. This knight’s guard was never down.

  I looked out the window, watching as the city of Athens came into clear view. Like Camelot, the city was a harmonious blend of classical and contemporary. The glistening rocks of the temples of the gods dominated the cold steel of the tall towers of modern man.

  As a kid, I remembered running through the ruins, which were a maze of rocks and steel as efforts were underway to save them. Most of my days were spent at the Parthenon as my father consulted the reconstruction efforts. It was late afternoon now and the sun lit the aged temple. The Parthenon looked like a bionic shrine with metallic reinforcements holding together its crumbling, marble flesh.

  That building had survived wars, explosive blasts, and botched restoration attempts. I understood what it was like being on the wrong side of an invading force. I knew what it felt like to be a waylay station and to be used as a shelter, as well as a shield. I knew all too well how the earth could shake when relationships went south. But the current restorers looked as though they knew what they were doing. I had a feeling their reinforcements would hold ‘til the end of time.

  “Are you ready, my lady?”

  I looked to Geraint. He held his hand out to me. The taxi had stopped, and we were at our destination. I took his hand and climbed out of the car. Even though trust was a thin layer between Geraint and I, he was everything that was chivalrous and gentlemanly. He opened the door for me. He carried my satchel. I’d forgone the hard suitcase since we traveled by air, and it was unlikely we’d end up in a lake.

  As I slung my bag over my shoulder, I remembered the last time I was here with my real bestie, Nia. We’d arrived by private yacht that time, the yacht of billionaire Tresor Mohandis. Which reminded me, I needed to call her and see what was up between the two of them. The last time we spoke, she was being tugged between Tres and Zane. Whichever direction she picked, she couldn’t go wrong. Both men would lay down their life for her.

  I had that now. The knights were six musketeers. Meaning they were one for all and all for one; now all for seven. But none of them looked at me the way Tres and Zane both looked at Nia. Baros had never looked at me like that either.

  Oh sure, he’d looked at me with lust, and there was pride mixed in there at my abilities. And yeah, he was often amused by me, I was an amusing girl. But devotion? I’d only ever seen that reflected in his opaque eyes when I’d looked at him.

  “Are we expected?” asked Geraint as we headed towards the elevator.

  “I’m an old friend,” I said as I punched in the code I remembered seeing Lenny punch in when he took me up to the Olympians’ penthouse. “It’s all good.”

  Before the doors to the elevator closed, I gave a finger waggle to a sheet of hotel stationery. It glided its way on the floor, barely missing a few stilettos and boots before sliding into the closing elevator doors, and slipping past Geraint’s notice. Barely.

  I saw his brow quirk. His gaze flitted left and then right and then at me. I offered him a smile, which made him all the more suspicious. But he couldn’t pinpoint the root of his suspicions, and he let it go.

  With the piece of stationery in my left hand, I slipped a pen out of my pocket and scrawled a note behind my back. When the doors opened to the penthouse, the way was blocked by big, burly men with opaque eyes.

  Chosen guards. Likely real live gladiators from the time of the Coliseum. The Olympians liked to keep it old school.

  “Hi,” I said to the Chosen gathered outside the Olympians’ private apartments. “I’m Loren, remember me? I kinda saved the world a couple of months ago. You know, from when Hera tried to raise the Titans?”

  They stared blankly at me, which was easy since they didn’t have pupils. I couldn’t tell if I’d met any of them before. They honestly all looked alike to me.

  “Here,” I said, producing the note from behind my back. “I’m expected.”

  One man took the note. I knew he was reading it though I couldn’t see his eyes scanning left to right. Once he was done, he looked over his shoulder and gave a head nod, indicating that the other man should read the note.

  “Old friend, huh?” asked Geraint.

  I saw his hand itch for his sword. Our swords were magical and easily evaded airport detection as they could take on another shape. I laid a hand on his sword arm to ease his trigger finger.

  “The goddess didn’t say she was expecting anyone,” said one Chosen.

  “But this is her handwriting,” said another Chosen.

  Of course, it was, I wanted to huff. I was an excellent forger. In my youth, I’d copied some of the greatest paintings around. Mimicking someone’s chicken scratch was a poor use of my talents.

  It was a talent I’d likely inherited from my mother, along with my witch’s blood. My mother never forged anything, but her paintings were incredibly lifelike. Probably because of the magic pooling at her fingertips.

  The Chosen warriors shrugged and began toward a door. I smiled congenially at Geraint. His brow told me that he knew something was up. We were almost home free when I heard a door open.

  “Guards, I need one of you to take out the trash.”

  I knew that voice. A rack of new clothing was shoved out of her door. I could still see some price tags dangling from the unworn clothes. My mouth salivated over what she considered trash, and my palms itched to grab.

  “Yes, my goddess,” said one of the Chosen. “And your visitor is here.”

  “Visitor?” Demeter poked her dark head out of the door.

  “A Ms. Van Alst,” said the Chosen.

  Shrewd, light eyes that filled with ire looked me up and down. Demeter cocked her head to the side. Then she ran a pink claw down the side of her face. “Who?”

  It was the ultimate diss. I clamped down on my tongue and inhaled a lungful of patience. Yeah. It didn’t work.

  “Poor thing must be going senile,” I said. “She’s like five thousand years old.”

  Demeter’s eyes glist
ened hot fire. So, of course, I went in for the kill.

  “You remember me, Demi. I’m Loren Van Alst, Nia’s best friend.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Everyone knows I’m Nia’s best friend. Like I said, take out the trash.”

  The men turned back to me and produced an array of weapons. The first brought forth a thick, iron blade. Another, a javelin. And the third began swinging a spiked flail.

  I sighed. “You know Nia will get pissed if you harm a hair on my pretty, blonde head.”

  “You’re a temporary pet. She’ll have forgotten you by the next century. She always does with her human pets.”

  “Jealousy looks good on you, Demi. Green is so your color.”

  Demeter rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers. The men advanced. Geraint stepped up side by side with me. In this, at least, I was his equal.

  “Stop.”

  The men halted at Demeter’s command.

  Ha? Had she seen reason? Wait, no. That wasn’t likely.

  A salacious smile crossed Demeter’s lips. She sashayed through the Chosen who parted for her. Running one of her painted claws over her lip, she darted out her tongue as though she were going to take a taste.

  I didn’t swing that way, but it sure did boost a girl’s confidence. My mind was spinning on how to let her down gently when she walked past me and turned her back on me. She came face to face with Geraint.

  “What do we have here?” she said. “What is that I smell? It’s an ancient spice I haven’t come across in centuries. Is that …? Could it be …? Chivalry?”

  Geraint lowered his sword, mesmerized by the goddess. I watched his fingers twitch around the hilt of his sword. His throat muscles worked.

  “Sir Geraint, at your service,” he said.

  “A knight?” Demeter twittered.

  Geraint’s grin spread even wider.

  I cleared my throat. “That’s my brother.”

  “She’s not my sister,” he said.

  “Am so. ‘Cause I’m a knight, too,” I said.

  “A complete fluke in the system,” said Geraint.

  “Dude!”

  “I don’t know why Nia put up with her,” said Demeter. “She seems as annoying as a stray; tagging along behind you, begging for scraps off your table, pawing all over your things.”

  “Exactly,” said Geraint.

  “I’ll get rid of her,” said Demeter. “Wanna come take your armor off and show me your sword?”

  “I could’ve sworn we were on a mission or something?” I came behind Demeter, right in Geraint’s line of sight. He squinted at me. I watched him struggle to come back to his senses under the onslaught of Demeter’s powers.

  “I’m responsible for Lady Loren.” The words looked as though they pained Geraint to say. “Another time perhaps. Right now, we need your help”

  “Fine,” Demeter said. “What can I do for you and Laura?”

  I let it slide. Being grown up was hard work. “We’re looking for Baros.”

  “Aw.” Demeter regarded me pitifully.

  Let it slide, Loren. Let it slide. “I don’t want him back or anything. I’m looking to get a ring.”

  Demeter's head cocked to the other side looking down on me as though I were pathetic.

  “Bad choice of words.” I held up my hands. “Let me start again—”

  “We believe Baros is after a magical object called the Ring of Gyges,” said Geraint. “The object, if in the wrong hands like Baros’s, could pose a great threat to the world. We’re on a mission to retrieve it.”

  “Baros isn’t here,” said Demeter. “We haven’t heard hide nor hair of him since Eleusis.”

  “Is Zeus here?” I asked. “Surely he can pinpoint him as Baros is his chosen.”

  “Zuzu is off being, well, Zuzu.”

  “We understand that one of your devoted, Plato, wrote about the ring,” said Geraint. “Perhaps we can speak with him instead, ask him some questions?”

  “Of course,” said Demeter. “I’ll take you to my sister, Tia’s offices.”

  She looped her arm through Geraint’s and headed to the elevator leaving me tagging along in their wake.

  Chapter Nine

  The sun was sinking down into the horizon as we climbed into Demeter’s town car. The scattering molecules in the atmosphere bruised the canvas of the sky. The clouds swelled in violent purples and pinks.

  The temples lit up the night in all their aged glory. The fluorescent lights took on a golden gleam making it appear as though the gods had returned to their dwellings for the night. But the gods were not asleep in their tombs. They were wide awake and getting on my last nerve.

  “Oh, I suppose you can sit back here with us,” Demeter said as I slid into the seat across from her in the rear of the luxury.

  The last time I’d been in a car with her, it was as we raced across town to stop an acropolytic apocalypse. I’d sat up front with Baros. It hadn’t occurred to me that I might be looked down upon as the help. I’d just wanted to be with my lover. Tres and Nia had sat together in the back. Demeter and Bet, another Immortal like Nia, had sat in a huddle too. The two had a torrid history.

  “Where’s your boyfriend?” I said to Demeter.

  A barely noticeable tick quivered at the corner of her right eye. On the other side of her face, her left jaw tensed. Demeter sniffed as she crossed her arms beneath her boobs. “Boyfriend? Such a childish term.”

  I tried to hold my features expressionless. I knew the term was childish. Had I not said that just the other day?

  “I don’t have those,” said Demeter. “I have men who are devoted to me. Women, too.”

  “Oh,” I said. “So, there is nothing going on between you and Bet? Good to know. He’s a looker.”

  Demeter’s eyes sparkled with the fire of thousands of souls. I sat bolt straight. My body angled toward her of its own accord, almost like I was bowing. To her.

  The Olympian gods lived off the souls of willing humans. But it hadn’t always been like that. The Titans, their parents, had eaten humans whole, taking their souls forcibly and making the surviving humans their slaves. Demons, these soul-slaves were called. Instead of the opaque eyes of the willing and devoted Chosen, demons’ eyes were black and hollow because their souls had been ripped from them against their will.

  The Olympians had outlawed the practice, but they still had the power to do it. I suspected Demeter had put a little demonic spice on Geraint earlier in the hall when she’d gazed at him. Though looking at him now, I would have to admit that she wouldn’t have needed to add much. Geraint was reserved but willing.

  But me? I’d given this goddess my soul willingly before. I didn’t have a choice. It had been a better-the-devil-you-know situation. Either I let Demeter hold my soul willingly or have it taken by her demented sister, Hera, as she’d tried to raise her homicidal father.

  Demeter had given me my soul back after the battle in Eleusis. But I always suspected she’d shifted things around in there. And now I saw that she still had a pinkie-finger hold on me as my body tried to bend to her will, literally.

  I gave myself an internal shake and felt her hold break. I narrowed my eyes at her. She grinned wickedly. Then she blinked in surprise.

  “So, you’re a witch now? I didn’t know they gave out magic to just anyone these days.”

  “I was always a witch,” I said. “I just didn’t know it. Now, I do. So keep your eyes to yourself.”

  Geraint leaned into me, looking between me and Demeter. “You two are friends, you said?”

  “Oh, my dear sir, I don’t friend the help,” said Demeter. “She’s Nia’s … associate. I thought Nia was in England with you lot.”

  “Nia is in the States,” I said. “You would know that if you were best friends.”

  Before Demeter and I could start another catfight, the car came to a stop. Geraint stepped out when the driver opened the door. The knight handed out Demeter and then me. I tried not to let the order that we departed
the car rankle but, if I was honest, I’d started keeping score. And she was now ahead. I glared at Geraint as he handed me out of the car. His brows drew together in the universal man language of ‘What did I do?’

  We entered a building that could have been an ancient temple with its columns and porticos. Except they were all made of steel and glass. The doors opened automatically. Once inside, it was impossible not to feel the hum of electricity running along the wires.

  The people on the floor moved as fast as the World Wide Web. They all were plugged in with headsets and handhelds. There was a mashup of fashion from men in draped togas and tailored suits to women in flowing peplos and designer skirts. What all of them had in common were their opaque eyes.

  I saw a statue of Atlas holding the world on his shoulders. There were priceless artwork and paintings all over the walls. But more prominently featured were whiteboards with complex mathematical problems.

  I’d heard about this place. It was the world’s most exclusive, most sought after collection of think tanks. These were all the chosen of the goddess, Hestia. She loaned out humanity’s greatest minds to solve problems as mundane as farming and ending world hunger to curing cancer and finding dark matter.

  The workers on the floor noticeably went into a faster-paced tizzy as a brown-skinned woman with cropped hair marched down the hall. She held two tablets in one hand with a phone pressed to her ear with the other hand. She spoke into the phone as she tapped her thumb on the top handheld. She never once looked up. Neither did she bump into anyone or anything as she came closer to us. That wasn’t so surprising. She was a goddess, after all.

  Hestia came to a halt before her sister. “What are you doing here, Demi? Is it another sister bonding day?” Her face crumpled as she looked at her varied devices.

  “No, Tia. It’s—”

  “Good,” Hestia sighed. “Because I felt like we just have one. Really you’re taking Hera’s mishap too far. I don’t see why I have to suffer.”

  “Tia, I’m here because—”

  But Hestia held up her hand, actually it was just her index finger. The other four were still wrapped around her tablets. Hestia hadn’t once looked up at her sister during their little heart-to-heart.