Urban Mythic: Thirteen Novels of Adventure and Romance, featuring Norse and Greek Gods, Demons and Djinn, Angels, Fairies, Vampires, and Werewolves in the Modern World

by C. Gockel

  There was no telephone, no television, and no internet – there were plenty of servants, but the only person who would speak to me was Zandra. I had read enough about Stockholm’s syndrome to know I would eventually feel some sort of a bond with her, just because she was the only one to show me even the smallest sliver of kindness by speaking to me. The solitude of Zandra’s home was deafening. The only part of the day I looked forward to was my garden time with my captor and the few moments I could steal in my closet reading my mother’s thoughts in her diary.

  The lesson on my twentieth day was by far the most helpful of anything she’d taught me. While we sat in the sun, I silently wished for a notebook, doing my best to commit her words to memory. The mythology she had been teaching me was interesting, but this day’s lesson was centered on Centaurs and specifically Centaurides’ skills.

  She began, “There were seven mares on the pasture of Thessaly when Kentaros arrived, each one part of the world’s oldest breeds. The centaurs born of these mares each had very distinct markings and temperaments. Many centaurs born of Kentaros and the respective mare took on a family name closely tied to the mare’s breed.

  An Andalusian mare bore Centaur children, and they took the name Andalcio. Their women were able to move objects with their minds.

  A Schwieken mare bore Centaur children that kept the breed’s name as their family name; these Centaurides could read people’s thoughts.

  A white Arabian mare’s descendants became Owens; they communicated with spirits.

  A Barb mare took the family name Barber; her children could see the future.

  A Fjord mare also kept her breed’s name as the surname for her bloodline. Her daughters could communicate telepathically with others.

  Centaurs born of a Tahki mare took the family name Tak. Their power was unique, the ability to plant ideas in another’s consciousness. They could make others believe an incident had occurred, and were known for their deceit and ruthlessness. The Tak bloodline offended Zeus, so he eventually cast them out; Zeus barred them from ever returning to Thessaly. He also forbade all other Centaurs from fraternizing with the Taks. Their bloodline did not survive.

  The Chiron family descended from a black Arabian mare, and when Zeus bestowed his gifts on all the female Centaurides in all the bloodlines, he looked most favorably on Chiron’s descendants. We were given all the collective powers bestowed on each bloodline – except, of course, the Taks’.”

  “But I’ve met Centaurides who have more than one skill.”

  Zandra nodded and smiled. “Inbreeding would be catastrophic for our race. We would have long ago perished. A Centauride typically possesses the skills of the two dominant bloodlines that run through her body.”

  “So if someone is a Centaur, their last name can only be one of the six from the original herd?”

  “No. Over the years, many opted to take on names other than their family names. This was done so that the family names would not become too obvious to the humans.”

  “How many Centaurs are there in the world?”

  “Pure-blooded Centaurs? One in ten thousand, possibly more. Half-breeds that have Centaur blood but are unaware they are something more than human – five in one thousand.

  I asked my next question cautiously. This had been one of the few times she openly answered my questions. “How does one Centaur know another?”

  “Centaurides can feel each other in their minds: it is a familiarity with a stranger, a kinship. Centaurs sense other Centaurs through their warrior sense. I’m told it is a tingling in their chest, a silent warning, useful in battle, I assume.”

  “Zandra, I don’t have any skills.” Truthfully, I could read minds through touch, but I’d only successfully done that with one person. I could read the images from Drake’s mind, but that was a far cry from simply reading another’s thoughts. “What’s wrong with me?” I had opened myself up and expected her to give me a kind response, encourage me in some small way.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised when she responded, “You were born out of wedlock. You are an amalgamation.” The hatred in her words cut me deeply when she added, “You should not exist. My daughter did this to you: she allowed you into the world and she taught you nothing. Her responsibility is now shouldered by me, and you are not worthy to carry my name.”

  I had been here for so long. I’d had almost no contact with anyone but Zandra, and this was the first time she had openly told me she was ashamed of me — that I didn’t belong. I had fooled myself into believing that this elaborate kidnapping had somehow been done for my protection, that she wanted me to join the Centaur kingdom as a full-fledged Centauride – eventually she would see her daughter in me. There were no words to describe the utter despair that enveloped me. Choking back the tears, I pleaded, “Let me go home. I won’t tell anyone we’re related. I’ll never breathe a word to anyone.” I knew I was a pathetic mess as I saw her angry words grow into a look full of disdain. I pleaded, “I won’t ever tell a soul. Just let me go home.”

  “It is too late for that. Because of the idiocy of your father, others know of you. You must learn your heritage so that you may embrace it. We must call to the magic in your blood; I can feel it in you. I can also feel your denial of who you are.”

  A man walked up and leaned down to kiss Zandra’s cheek. I had to look at him twice; his face was masculine, but he looked eerily like my mother. He had the same brown eyes, bushier eyebrows, dark curly hair, and the same pointy nose. The biggest difference was I rarely saw my mother without a welcoming smile, and this man seemed to have a permanent scowl. “Good morning, Mother. You’re looking well.” I was so used to everyone on the property ignoring me, except Zandra, that I was shocked to see him make eye contact with me.

  Zandra’s voice softened as she answered, “Angelo, I’m so glad to see you’ve returned from your trip. I have a surprise for you.”

  He took me in with the same disgusted look Zandra had just bestowed on me, “Word reached me, Mother. I came to see for myself. Are you certain she isn’t a half-breed? I wouldn’t have put it past Angela.” He had her eyes, their eyes – this was my Uncle Angelo. I had just read the entry about his attack on a woman in my mother’s diary. His presence made me want to shrink into a corner. He looked so much like my mother in his features, but where she exuded happiness, love and joy — this man gave off hateful, menacing vibes. Even without reading her diary, instinctively I would never wish to be alone with him.

  Zandra shook her head and continued talking as if I weren’t there. “No, she clearly is the spawn of Angela and William Strayer.”

  “Where’s her brother?”

  “I’m sure he’s tucked away somewhere. I’ve looked through her thoughts many times; she has no recollection of him. Shame. I’ve dispatched a team to tear Angela’s past apart. He’ll turn up.”

  Zandra’s words still stung, and I was too frightened to ask what they were talking about. A brother? Why did they think I had a brother? This question had escaped me before I caught the thought in my head and hid it behind my mind’s brick wall.

  Zandra did the same thing Gretchen had done to me. I didn’t have to ask the question out loud. She was only too happy to answer my thoughts. “Every Chiron Centauride who gives birth, since Kantaros walked the earth, has always given birth to a set of fraternal twins. You have a brother somewhere in the world. We need to find him.”

  My eyes widened, and I felt dizzy. “A brother? I don’t have a brother. I mean, I’ve got five half brothers, William’s sons.” She had to be wrong. There had to be some kind of mistake.

  Angelo shot me a glare. “Of course, you’ve got a brother. Did you not listen to your grandmother? Things haven’t changed since the beginning of time. You are a worthless excuse for a Centauride, but that doesn’t surprise me. Your mother was pathetic, too. The Chiron bloodline is dominate; we were favored by Zeus.”

  He wanted me to challenge him; I could feel it. His words were hurtful. I couldn�
��t argue his slanderous comments about me. Even I was embarrassed that I was unable to do what every other Centauride could do without effort, but I wouldn’t allow him to attack my mother, “My mother was not pathetic. She was wonderful. She worked hard her whole life, and she treated everyone with kindness and respect.”

  “Ha! And she’s dead. Were you not listening? I am Angela’s twin. I felt her leave this world. I feel her spirit lurking here now.” Angelo stopped looking at me and shouted out, “Angela, keep hiding in the corners! Spend your death the same way you spent your life! Camille is part of our family. Mother will not be as soft on her as she was on you!”

  One of the marble statutes began to weave. I saw it sway twice right before it toppled over. Angelo was fast and jumped free of the statue before it could fall on him. He shouted, “You’ve got to do better than that, Angela! I’m not surprised to see you are as weak in death as you were in life. Go to the pastures; leave Camille in our care. We’ll see that she pays your debts!”

  I looked in all directions. I needed her to tell me how she escaped. I needed to be away from this place. Why couldn’t I see her?

  Zandra answered me, “You can’t see her because you choose not to see her. Imagine her disappointment in you. I can see her. I can see you fell short in her eyes, and you continue to do so by refusing to use the gifts you were born with. You need only open your mind to find your twin.”

  Without thinking I blurted out, “Angelo, if you had this connection with my mom, how did you never find her?”

  Angelo’s teeth were mashed together; his lips were thin angry lines and his eyes blazed when he answered, “She was cloaked by magic. When her spirit left her body, I felt it go. I knew she had died.”

  I was intrigued. Not only had my mother escaped, she was able to completely hide from everyone, even Angelo who should have had Centaur GPS connection to her. “But your twin connection did not work before her death?”

  Zandra must have read my thoughts because she turned her attention to my uncle, “Come, Angelo, we have much to catch up on.”

  The two of them left me in the garden. My heart hurt: I felt like I didn’t belong, that I was inadequate, that I would never have the life I wanted. Angelo said I’d pay for her debts. What did that mean? To think I was excited when today’s lesson began, and in this moment I couldn’t imagine a fate worse than the one I was living.

  I thought back to times as a teenager. Mom always knew when I was up to something I shouldn’t be. I remembered I’d stayed at a party all night on the beach. I’d arranged with a friend to cover for me; if my mom checked on me, I was staying at her house. When the sun rose and I knew it was time to go home, my mother’s car was waiting for me in the beach’s parking lot. I didn’t know how long she had sat waiting for me. Most parents would have flown off the handle. She didn’t. All she said was, “I’m disappointed in you, Camille.” I think I would have taken any punishment in the world if it meant I wouldn’t have heard those words.

  Another time when I’d “borrowed” a sweater from her after she’d told me I couldn’t, I sneaked into her room and jammed it deep into my book bag. I tried to get to the front door when she stopped me. She took it out of my book bag before I left for school that morning and scolded me for lying to her. All my friends noticed it, too. I was the only one who could never get away with anything. I’d never put it together before.

  She really was a Centauride. I was her daughter and if what Angelo told me was true – I had a twin brother somewhere in the world that I’d never known. I thought back to Mom’s treasure box in her closet, the photograph of two babies. Was Zandra right? Maybe as a Centauride and as a daughter, I was a disappointment to my mother.

  Thankfully, Angelo departed the same day he came. He was like Zandra, evil to the core, with no thought for anyone but himself. I felt horrible for my circumstance. I wanted to run away. I wanted to talk to someone. I needed human contact.

  I read the whole diary in short bursts; there weren’t that many entries. From what I’d read, she really didn’t care for Zandra and was thrilled with the idea of marrying Kyle Richardson and getting the heck away. I wish there had been something that talked about how she made her escape. A secret passageway? Maybe her father finally came through for her? But I didn’t find any clues in it, other than to know Zandra had always been a vile person, and her brother Angelo was mean to her his whole life.

  Entry Eighteen Oct 15 – Kyle stopped by again today. I can’t wait to get married and get away from this place. Dad refuses to stop Angelo’s constant threats. I can’t believe we are related, let alone twins. Angelo warned Kyle I’d run the first chance I got, and that Kyle needed to talk to mother about keeping me under control. When Kyle told Angelo that he wasn’t worried, Angelo offered to show him how to slice my Achilles’ tendon, to keep me from running. Kyle pretended he thought that Angelo was joking, but he stayed with me all day and offered to camp out in the backyard if I wanted him to. Two more weeks and this hell is over.

  By my forty-second tick mark on my closet wall, I began to wonder if I’d ever be permitted to leave or speak to another human being. I was thankful Bianca had taught me how to protect my thoughts so the hatred I felt for Zandra was masked from her view. I did broadcast the loneliness I felt growing each day, hoping it would ebb away at Zandra’s resolve to keep me a prisoner. Those lonely thoughts gave way to the longing for relationships that might never be. I felt myself thinking often of Will, Gretchen, and my brothers, how all of them had willingly accepted me into their home, their lives and their hearts. The fun-loving brothers I’d only known for a mere week had been abruptly stolen like a prized toy. The knowledge that somewhere in the world I had a brother that I’d shared my mother’s womb with was crippling because I didn’t know if he was dead or alive. The father who was full of love, who I’d been denied my whole life, was robbed from me. I thought of Daniel all the time. I knew he would be worried sick by now. The solitude proved unbearable, and the guards witnessed me in emotional turmoil nearly every evening, but none offered even one word of comfort. They looked on as my hopelessness threatened to envelope me.

  As I stared at that forty-second tick mark, I made up my mind, no matter what Zandra chose to do to me, it couldn’t be worse than the utter hopelessness of being denied human contact – or Centaur contact. When she joined me in the garden, she waited for me to repeat the lesson from yesterday — I rebelled the only way I knew how, “Zandra, when can I see Dad again?”

  “Your father is very busy. He’ll see you when he chooses to make time for you.” She was lying. I couldn’t read her mind or her thoughts, but I could feel the truth. She was keeping me from him.

  “Does he know where I am?”

  “Of course, he knows where you are.”

  “Then why hasn’t he come to see me?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know.”

  “Bullshit!” The look on her face was worth every penny in my bank account, and I would have gladly handed it over. I’d rattled her.

  “I think we’ll skip the lesson today. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She stood and walked away. I felt that initial panic that I had wasted what little human contact I was afforded by my belligerence. The panic gave way to seething anger; I made myself a silent promise that I would not relent. I watched as an alligator that had been sunning along the water’s edge dove into the water – even that beast with prehistoric ancestors had more freedom than I did. I wouldn’t give up, and I refused to politely sit through one more of her lessons.

  I was done. Nothing in the world was worth this isolation. When I heard the door to the house close, I knew my human contact was over for the day. I was wearing blue jeans, a sweatshirt, and my favorite sneakers – perfect traveling clothes. I stood up and started walking toward the large iron gate. I could hear my guard’s footsteps behind me. I had gone thirty feet when I heard his voice for the first time in six weeks, “Stop!”

  I ignored him and picked up my pace.
r />   His voice was loud and menacing, “Camille, I said stop!”

  I didn’t even glance over my shoulder. I had spoken to him on several occasions and was ignored. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead I let loose into a sprint for the gate. Two vice grips for hands grabbed my shoulders, throwing me violently to the ground when I was less than twenty feet from the gate. I hadn’t expected the impact. I lay on the ground weighing my options. I could easily make it into the swamp with a hope that this man couldn’t swim and the alligators I watched every day would not attack me. I sat up from the ground, brushed the gravel off of my face, and glared in his direction.

  His face was angry when he demanded, “Go back to the house.”

  “You go back to the house. I’m going home.”

  “This is your home, Camille.”

  “No, this is her home. I’m leaving.” I stood up, brushed the last of the gravel from me and looked at the gate. I could reach it and be over it in less than thirty seconds. The problem was, I knew the guard was even faster. Where’s a man-eating alligator when you need one? I took a step toward the water, deciding this would be my best shot at freedom. When I did, the guard heaved his whole body at me. The weight of his frame knocked the wind out of me and covered me in gravel a second time.

  The guard anticipated what I was about to do. He was done talking to me. His palm gripped my neck at the base of my skull, and he forcibly escorted me all the way to the front door.

  The anger inside me welled up with such fervor that I was sure it would spill over and poison those around me. I knew I needed to hold the anger, but I also needed to get it back to a slow boil. I did what I knew would bring the anger under control, but in doing so would make my heart ache all over again.

  I closed my eyes and imagined the day on the yacht with Drake: how his skin felt as I held his face in my hands. I saw the surprised look on his face when images of the two of us flooded from his mind. I remembered how overcome I was by the images, so much so that I kissed him without warning. I sat in my room for what felt like hours, reliving those precious few moments with him, trying to remember what we had said to one another.