Franklin tossed away his beer and raised his fists. He still couldn’t stop grinning.
The orc god lowered his weapon. “Some of the other gods did have a question, though. Me too.”
It pleased Franklin to think of gods talking about him. In the cosmic scheme, he knew he amounted to little more than a speck. But at least he was a speck the gods had noticed, if only for a moment. It was more than he could’ve reasonably expected.
“Why’d you put on the helmet?” asked Grog.
Franklin lowered his fists. “Funny. I’m not really sure. I guess it just came down to having to try it.”
“But how did you know it would work?”
“I didn’t. But I figured, best-case scenario, I get to be a living god for a little while. Worst case, I get a snazzy new helmet.”
“So you weren’t trying to sacrifice yourself for the greater good?”
Franklin shrugged. “Nope. Just couldn’t resist the opportunity.”
Grog threw back his heads and laughed. The terrible din darkened the Cruel Skies. Four of his heads continued to chuckle as the fifth appraised Franklin.
“You’re all right.”
“Thanks.”
Grog raised his mighty ax. Franklin couldn’t escape the strike, but he thought if he timed a forward roll just right, the blood spatter from his corpse might stain Grog’s boots. It was worth a shot. He leaped forward, but the ax blow never came.
He found himself staring up at the massive god, who was still holding his ax as if to strike.
“Is there a problem?” asked Franklin.
Grog propped his weapon over his shoulder. “Do you play bridge?”
“I used to, though I’m a bit rusty.”
“Can you teach me?”
“Sure. If you need me to. Why?”
Grog said, “The other gods have a regular tournament. They always invite me, but they know I don’t know how to play.”
“Why don’t you ask them to teach you?”
“Oh, they’d love that, a chance to teach the savage orc god how to play cards. Smug bastards, every last one of them.”
It was Franklin’s turn to laugh.
“What?”
“I just didn’t expect you to be so insecure.”
Grog ground his teeth together. “Let me tell you, it’s not easy being a god of the orcs.”
“I can imagine. Yes, I can teach you, but isn’t it against the rules to not obliterate me and throw my bones on the pile?”
“I make the rules, so who is going to argue? Also, you’re friends with Nigel Godkiller, and I’m not so sure I want to mess with that guy. I can always pencil you in tomorrow, though that’s shuffleboard Tuesday. Ever play?”
“I won a tournament on a cruise. I’d show you my trophy, but it’s back on the material plane.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Grog climbed on his terrifying cycle. He revved the engine until Franklin thought his entire body would disintegrate. He noticed his own motorcycle, or at least the spirit equivalent, sitting beside Grog’s own.
Franklin mounted his own iron steed. Its familiar rumble vibrated comfortingly. His soul and the god roared up the Gray Mountain. Franklin inhaled deeply, choking on the thick clouds of exhaust belched from Grog’s terrible machine.
It smelled good.
35
Helen had worn a dress maybe three times in her life. She had nothing against them, but jeans were just so much easier. She twirled in front of her mirror. The red skirt swirled, and she had to admit she liked the way it looked. She was still a jeans girl, but sometimes it was nice to just feel pretty.
She turned to Achilles, sitting on her bed.
“What do you think?”
He wagged his tail. It’d been a week since they’d completed their quest, and if he was a god or helpful spirit in disguise, he had shown no signs of dropping the act. She doubted she’d ever be completely convinced there wasn’t something supernatural about the dog, but it didn’t matter. He’d earned his kibble and then some.
Her brother stuck his head in the doorway. “Hey, they’re waiting.”
“It’s polite to knock,” she said.
Will rapped on the door with his knuckles. “Everybody’s waiting.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right down.”
He looked her up and down.
“That’s your cue to leave, squirt,” she said, feeling self-conscious.
“You look good, Helen,” he said.
“Thanks.”
He pursed his lips and made kissing noises. “You’re welcome.”
She threw a brush at him, but he ducked behind the door.
She did look good. She might be taller than other girls. Hairier. But the benefit to all that fur was that she didn’t have to worry about makeup, and shaving her legs would’ve been kind of weird. Not that it wasn’t kind of weird already, when she thought about it.
She might not be the petite flower the world expected her to be, but that was the world’s problem. She adjusted her breasts, ran a brush through her hair one last time, and drew in a deep breath. She’d battled a dragon, a cyclops, and a cannibal witch. She’d fought a god for the fate of Utah, Wyoming, and greater Idaho.
But tonight, things were getting serious.
She and Achilles walked downstairs. She’d imagined everyone gazing up at her as she descended, but they were all in the living room, talking. Helen paused to listen.
She heard Troy. “—Then, and I swear to the gods above, I was positive she was going to drive that dagger right through my heart.”
Her mom and dad laughed.
“She almost killed you?” asked Will. “And now you’re going out on a date with her?”
Troy said, “Guess you had to be there.”
Helen glanced at him from the alcove. She didn’t know how it was possible, but he was even more handsome than before. He wore a button-up shirt, black slacks, green-and-blue sneakers that would’ve looked hipster on anyone else. But damned if he didn’t make it work.
“Sounds like you had quite an adventure,” said Roxanne.
“I’m not going to lie,” he replied. “There were some dark moments, but it all worked out in the end. I never would’ve discovered how wonderful your daughter is without this trip. She’s very special.”
Helen suddenly felt guilty for eavesdropping. She stepped into view and cleared her throat. All heads turned toward her.
“Oh, Helen.” Roxanne wrapped Helen in a tight hug. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Troy looked at her and smiled. Smiling wasn’t unusual for him, but this one seemed special. As if it was one he’d been saving just for her.
She dreaded the conversation that was bound to happen now. She loved her family, but she wanted this over with. Troy came to her rescue.
He scratched Achilles behind the ears. “We better get going if we want to make the movie.”
They bid hasty good-byes, though Roxanne insisted on several more hugs. She started crying too, though she did her best to keep it under control.
“You take good care of my little girl,” she told Troy.
He promised he would. She insisted he call her Roxanne. Then demanded a few quick photographs. It took them five more minutes to finally walk out the front door. Helen’s family watched them walk away until her dad, mercifully, shooed them back inside and shut the door.
“Well, that was awkward,” said Helen.
“They’re cute. I can see why you turned out so great.” Troy took her hand. “You do look beautiful, y’know.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re supposed to tell me I look good,” he added.
“You always look good.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t like to hear it every so often.”
She tousled his hair. “I had no idea you were so insecure.”
“I have my moments.”
She caught Roxanne watching them from slightly parted c
urtains.
“What movie are we seeing?” asked Helen.
“I made that up. I figured you’d want to end the awkward family-meeting-your-boyfriend stage as quickly as possible.”
“My hero. Though I think it’s a bit premature to say you’re my boyfriend. This is our first date.”
He winked at her and smiled. He could get away with anything with that smile.
“Hel, I forgot to ask you. Did you ever find a use for that key the fates gave you?”
She opened her handbag and showed him the old key. “I think getting me to walk into that castle was its purpose. Or maybe not. Maybe it was something they gave me with no purpose other than what I’d make of it. I’m not so sure the fates know what the hell they’re doing, but nobody dares call them on it because they don’t want to take the chance.”
“It’s a thought,” he said.
“But they never said when it would come in handy. Maybe there’s a door somewhere down the road waiting to be opened. For now, I think of it as my good-luck charm.”
They leaned in and kissed, softly. Nothing very passionate, but sweet and wonderful.
“Thanks for almost destroying three states for me, Hel.”
“Don’t mention it, Troy.”
She tossed the key away, where it was lost in the grass of the next lawn over. He raised an eyebrow.
“Who needs the fates?” she said. “I’ll make my own luck from now on.”
The next day she’d spend the better part of an afternoon looking for it. Optimism was great, but it never hurt to have a little help from the universe now and then.
Troy grinned at her.
“I think I love you, Hel.”
She winked.
“I bet you say that to all the girls with tails.”
extras
meet the author
A. LEE MARTINEZ was born in El Paso, Texas. At the age of eighteen, for no apparent reason, he started writing novels. Thirteen short years (and a little over a dozen manuscripts) later, his first novel, Gil’s All Fright Diner, was published. His hobbies include juggling, games of all sorts, and astral projecting. Also, he likes to sing along with the radio when he’s in the car by himself. For more information on the author, check out www.aleemartinez.com or follow @aleemartinez on Twitter.
By A. Lee Martinez
Gil’s All Fright Diner
In the Company of Ogres
A Nameless Witch
The Automatic Detective
Too Many Curses
Monster
Divine Misfortune
Chasing the Moon
Emperor Mollusk Versus the Sinister Brain
Helen and Troy’s Epic Road Quest
introducing
If you enjoyed
HELEN AND TROY’S EPIC ROAD QUEST,
look out for
THE EMPEROR MOLLUSK VERSUS THE SINISTER BRAIN
by A. Lee Martinez
Emperor Mollusk.
Intergalactic Menace. Destroyer of Worlds. Conqueror of Other Worlds. Mad Genius. Ex-Warlord of Earth.
Not bad for a guy without a spine.
But what’s a villain to do after he’s done…everything. With no new ambitions, he’s happy to pitch in and solve the energy crisis or repel alien invaders should the need arise, but if he had his way, he’d prefer to be left alone to explore the boundaries of dangerous science. Just as a hobby, of course.
Retirement isn’t easy though. If the boredom doesn’t get him, there’s always the Venusians. Or the Saturnites. Or the Mercurials. Or…well, you get the idea. If that wasn’t bad enough, there are also the assassins of a legendary death cult and an up-and-coming megalomaniac (as brilliant as he is bodiless) who have marked Emperor for their own nefarious purposes. But Mollusk isn’t about to let the Earth slip out of his own tentacles and into the less capable clutches of another. So it’s time to dust off the old death ray and come out of retirement. Except this time, he’s not out to rule the world. He’s out to save it from the peril of THE SINISTER BRAIN!
There’s no sound in space, but my saucer cannons simulated a shriek with every blast. A swoosh followed every barrel roll. And when my autogunner scored a hit, a sophisticated program supplied the appropriate level of response, ranging from a simple ping to a full-fledged explosion. I could have programmed it to provide an explosion every time, but that would’ve cheapened the experience.
The atmosphere burst with color as the cannons belched their staccato rhythm. My ship blasted the enemy fighters to scrap, but an impressive fleet stood between my target and me. The shields were holding, but I had only a few moments before I was disabled.
I’d gone over my exo options before mission. Neptunons might have been the smartest race in the galaxy, but outside of our exoskeletons, we couldn’t do much more than flop around. We could drag ourselves across the floor, a means of mobility both embarrassing and ineffective. Our brains had grown too fast, and we just hadn’t possessed the patience to wait around for nature to bestow what we could give ourselves. Over the centuries, we’d only grown smarter and squishier.
The obvious choice for an exo on this mission would’ve been a big, burly combative model. But I’d opted for stealth, taking a modified Ninja-3 prototype. It stood barely five feet tall and space limitations meant it didn’t pack much weaponry. But I wasn’t planning on fighting every soldier on the station. It sounded like a laugh, but time was a factor. Terra was a little over six minutes from total subjugation.
I slipped into my exo, loaded myself into the launch tube, and prepared to fire.
“It was a pleasure serving with you, sir,” said the craft’s computer.
“Likewise.”
I ejected, rocketing through space in a jet-black torpedo that was practically invisible in the darkness of space. A stray plasma blast could’ve gotten lucky and struck the torpedo. If it didn’t destroy me outright, it would knock the torpedo off course, either sending me spinning into the void of space or plummeting to Terra. But I’d done the math and decided to take my chances.
The torpedo breached the station’s hull. I kicked open the torpedo’s door and exited. There were no guards. Only a couple of technicians gasping for air. The artificial gravity held them in place, but the decompression had taken all the oxygen.
A security team stormed the room. I vaulted over their heads before they got off a shot. A few punches from my exo’s four arms knocked them all senseless before they could even realize I was behind them. The Ninja-3 had several built-in blades, but I tried not to kill people just for annoying me.
I took a second to grab the emergency oxygen masks off the wall and toss them to the technicians.
Then I was on my way. My exo’s camouflage feature allowed me to avoid guards. I slipped through the security net without much trouble, though it took a few minutes. By the time I reached the device, I was running short on time.
The immense orb hovered in a containment field. Hundreds of lights, purely ornamental, blinked across its surface. Its ultrasonic hum filled the chamber. Only a Neptunon could hear the sound without having their brain melt.
I blasted the device. It shattered into a thousand little pieces. There was nothing inside. Just a ceramic mock-up of a doomsday weapon.
A door opened, and a Neptunon in a hulking exoskeleton marched into the chamber. He banged his hands together. Their metallic clapping echoed.
“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” he asked.
All Neptunons look alike. We even have trouble telling each other apart. It wasn’t surprising that this one looked like me, but the resemblance went deeper.
The clone had been a mistake. I don’t often make mistakes, but I own up to them when they happen.
“A decoy,” I said.
Emperor Mollusk, Mark Two, laughed maniacally. Had I really sounded like that? The clone carried a set of memories minus a few years of experience and the personality to match. Looking at yourself, at who you used to be, wasn’t pretty
.
“You should see the look on your face,” he said. “How does it feel to be outwitted?”
“Someone was going to do it eventually,” I replied. “At least I can take some small comfort that I outmaneuvered myself.”
“Yes, if anyone could do it…” He raised an eye ridge in a pompous, self-satisfied manner. We don’t have eyebrows.
“The fleet, the personnel, the space station,” I said. “This must have cost you a small fortune.”
“Ah, but it was necessary, wasn’t it? I knew that only one being in this system had the knowledge and ability to pose any significant risk to my plan. I couldn’t hide an operation like this without something to distract you. So I devised a small game for your amusement. Little clues leading to a fun diversion then a full-blown operation that was every bit as involved and complex as the real thing. But at the heart of it…nothing.”
I said, “Meanwhile, you build your weapon somewhere else, somewhere unimportant, somewhere unnoticed. It was exactly what I would’ve done.”
“And now nothing can stop me. In three minutes, Terra shall be mine.”
“You don’t want it.”
He chuckled, but one look at my face told him I was serious. Neptunons might not have the most expressive features, but we get by.
“Having billions of dominated souls chant your name in unison can be great for the self-esteem. Although, really, self-esteem was never our problem, was it?” I asked.
Mark Two studied me skeptically. He suspected a trap, trying to figure out my angle. There was no angle. Just a lesson learned.
“Once you’re crowned Warlord of Terra, you’ll see that it’s a lot more responsibility than I…we…planned.”
He scanned for any sign of deception. I had never been a very good liar. Strange, considering my hobby as a world conqueror, but it was a conscious choice. Being a skilled liar might have made the job easier, but telling the truth, with the occasional lie by omission, increased the difficulty level.
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