by Maz Evans
“Hermes!” Virgo hissed.
“Cool, babe,” he sighed. “You can lead a unicorn to water … ”
They snuck in behind two women wearing dead animals around their shoulders.
“So she’s finally found Mr. Right,” said the one sporting a dead fox.
“About time,” said the one draped in dead mink. “She’s tried Mr. Wrong, Mr. Stupid, Mr. Boring, and Mr. Married … ”
They laughed unpleasantly. The dead animals looked mournfully at Elliot. He could see why they were fed up. Not only had they been snatched from the prime of life, but now they were stuck around the necks of these ridiculous women.
“Bride or groom?” asked the usher.
“Neither, you fool,” Mrs. Fox announced. “I’m a guest.”
“I can’t believe it,” said Virgo, smoothing her hair. “I’m actually going to meet Zeus! What should I say to impress him?”
“Nothing?” Elliot suggested as they entered the grand room, which was filled with rows of chairs with a narrow aisle between them. It looked as though a wedding had thrown up everywhere. Flowers adorned every surface, pink balloons filled every corner, and there was a huge chocolate fountain with a marshmallow bride and groom dangling their feet in it.
“Now, where’s the old boy?” Hermes said, hovering slightly off the ground to see over the crowd. “Ah—Bosh!”
Hermes pointed out someone who, to Elliot, was quite obviously the king of the Gods. Even with his back to them, this tall, broad man had a regal bearing—noble, strong, and brave. As Hermes, Virgo and Elliot fought their way through the chattering guests toward this towering presence, Elliot wondered what he would say to such a great immortal being.
Although as the man turned around, he didn’t have to wonder long.
“Champagne, sir?” said the waiter, offering a glass to Hermes.
“Nice one,” said Hermes, taking two.
“You’d better fill me up too, old boy,” boomed a voice behind him. “Condemned man and all that.”
“Zeus!” Virgo gasped as the waiter moved aside to reveal the real king of the Gods.
Mythology was one of the few subjects that Elliot enjoyed at school, and so he was familiar with the classical images of Zeus, all white hair flowing down his broad back and his strapping chest bursting out of a toga as he hurled thunderbolts at his enemies.
So he was rather surprised to find Zeus in a badly fitting light-blue tuxedo with a frilly shirt, holding a ham-and-cheese finger sandwich. The long white hair was there, albeit badly slicked back with hair gel. And it wasn’t a strapping chest bursting out so much as a gigantic belly.
“Hermes, my boy!” said Zeus warmly, taking his son into a big bear hug. “So glad you could make it. Such a special day. This one’s a keeper. Whatever her name is. And who do we have here?”
He extended a crumby hand toward Virgo.
“I … er … w-well … I’m … ,” stammered the Constellation, for the first time at a loss for words.
“This is Virgo, from the Zodiac Council,” said Hermes.
“Ah—a pencil pusher, eh?” laughed Zeus. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you. Super to meet you.”
“Th … argh … bler … ” Virgo burbled.
“And this is my mate Elliot,” said Hermes. “Not sure why he’s here, but he’s rocking the shabby-chic look and that’s good enough for me.”
“Your Majesty,” said Elliot, looking into the smiling eyes set in a lined face. Even with the ridiculous outfit, there was still something about Zeus that exuded almighty power. Elliot recalled the sensation he’d had with Thanatos, the sense that this man could read his mind—but this time it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. It was somehow comforting, familiar, warm. “I’m Elliot Hooper.”
“A pleasure, Elliot,” boomed Zeus. “Lovely to have you here. I do love a good wedding.”
“Shame he doesn’t enjoy the marriage part afterward,” smirked Hermes.
“Behave, you young whippersnapper,” laughed Zeus, hitting Hermes so hard on the back that he fell over. “Good man.”
“Your Majesty,” said Virgo, dropping into a deep curtsy. “I desperately need your help. I’ve done something terrible.”
“There, there—can’t be that bad,” said Zeus. “No worse than these finger sandwiches anyway. I’ve had better food from Tantalus’s Takeout. And there’s no need for any of that—get up, dear girl.”
Just as he helped Virgo to her feet, the organ struck up the opening chords of “Here Comes the Bride.”
“Yikes,” gulped Zeus, dropping the ham-and-cheese and wiping his hands on his suit. “Here we go. Again.”
“But Zeus, I—” started Virgo.
She was drowned out by the chorus of “ahh” announcing that Petunia, the bride, had made it out of the parking lot. Unfortunately, however, she didn’t make it much farther, as the almighty dress that had wedged her in the carriage now wedged her halfway down the aisle.
Elliot tried not to laugh as the three miserable bridesmaids unsuccessfully tried to free her.
“Zeus,” whispered Virgo. “Zeus, I really need to—”
“Gordon!” the bride sang down the aisle. “Darling, Petunia needs you!”
“Uh-oh—that’s me,” whispered Zeus, dropping the glass he’d been sipping and running to his bride. “Hold on, my fragrant flower. One. Two. Three!”
Elliot hid his mouth in his hand as Zeus grabbed the bottom hoop and gave the dress an almighty tug. The hoop came unstuck, but such was the width and weight of the gown, the wide skirts merely tipped Petunia backward, leaving her stranded with her legs in the air, flashing her frilly knickers at the congregation.
“Aaaargh! Gordon! Help!”
“Hold on, old girl,” said Zeus, grabbing one of her legs. “Hermes—grab the other one for me.”
At his father’s bidding—and with some difficulty, given the strength, size, and motion of the bride—Hermes grabbed Petunia’s other leg.
“You look great, babe,” he whispered. “But that dress really needs a bigger heel … ”
“Right, on my count—one, two, three … HEAVE!”
As one, the two Olympians yanked Petunia. And this time it worked—Petunia flew free. Sadly, her dress did not. Now dressed only in her frilly knickers and some underwear that reminded Elliot of an Egyptian mummy, Petunia popped out of her frock like a champagne cork, taking Zeus and Hermes with her as they tumbled down the aisle, and all landed with a splat in the chocolate fountain.
That was when another bride appeared.
Elliot had never been to a wedding before, but he was pretty confident there was only supposed to be the one.
“Frederick!” shouted the second bride. “What is the meaning of this?”
Zeus poked his head out of the fountain and spat out a mouthful of chocolate. “Er … oh, hello … er … Enid.” He smiled. “It is Enid, isn’t it?”
“Dad—c’mon!” laughed Hermes. “You’ve double-booked your weddings. Again!”
“My angel! You’re a vision!” Zeus tried gamely.
“And you’re a cheating ratbag!” howled Enid, charging down the aisle, until she was stopped by Petunia’s wedding dress. “Wait till I get my hands on you, you old dog!”
With one bride still stuck in the fountain and the other fighting the wedding dress, Zeus let out a shrill whistle, at which the beautiful white horse that Elliot had seen outside drawing the bride’s carriage came thundering into the room.
“Pegasus! Over here!” Zeus yelled. “SOS!”
The horse charged down the aisle, elegantly leaping over Enid, the bridesmaids, and the wedding dress like a front-runner in the Kentucky Derby.
“Quickly, up you come,” said Zeus, scrabbling onto the horse’s back with the help of the embroidered jacket, and lifting Virgo and Elliot in front of him.
The guests were in uproar, with Petunia and Enid’s friends fighting over who had the greater claim to the buffet. Zeus winked at Hermes, who nodded and calmly walke
d into the fray, lightly touching the dead animals that were draped around their owners’ large necks. At his touch, the furs sprang to life, filling the room with foxes, minks, and a particularly ferocious badger, snarling at their captors and chasing them around the room, finally taking their revenge. It did the trick. The crowds parted, giving Pegasus a clear run back down the aisle.
“Come on, Peg—step on it,” said Zeus, pulling the reins of his magnificent steed. Elliot braced himself as Pegasus lowered his head and charged out of the golf club. With Hermes fluttering discreetly behind, they headed out into the open air, where Pegasus burst out of the embroidered jacket, exposing a magnificent pair of white, feathered wings.
Zeus took a cautious look behind him. “Okay, Peg—up, up, and away!”
“Er, Dad—you might want this, you plum,” said Hermes, rummaging around in his bag and producing an engraved bronze helmet that was far too big to have fit inside.
“Good idea,” said Zeus, strapping the helmet on. “Belongs to my brother Hades,” he explained to Elliot. “Makes the wearer and anything they’re touching invisible. Darned useful gadget. Hold on.”
As soon as the helmet hit Zeus’s head, Elliot felt a tickling sensation as his whole body became transparent. He held up his hand. He could see right through it. It was a very strange feeling, but Elliot didn’t have time to dwell on it as Pegasus galloped up the fairway.
The magical horse fully unfurled his gigantic wings and took off into the clear blue afternoon. As the ground dropped away, Elliot saw a chocolate-coated Petunia run out of the golf club in her undies, pelting her empty carriage with ham-and-cheese sandwiches.
It was the fourth time that day that Elliot had traveled by immortal transport, and flying by horse quickly became his favorite. As Pegasus climbed high into the sky, Elliot was treated to the most beautiful view of the English countryside below.
“There’s my farm!” said Elliot after a few minutes, seeing his beloved home like a little model in the fields near Stonehenge.
“I couldn’t trouble you for a place to lay my hat, could I, old boy?” Zeus yelled into Elliot’s ear. “Need to lie low for a few days.”
Elliot was caught off guard. On the one hand, the last thing he needed was another stranger on the farm drawing attention to him and Mom. On the other, Zeus had the Earth Stone—perhaps if he gave him somewhere to stay, he might let Elliot borrow it. Or perhaps Elliot might borrow it anyway. It was worth the risk.
“Of course, Your … erm … Majesty,” he said.
Pegasus touched down in the disused paddock of Home Farm and Elliot immediately jumped off and ran to the farmhouse. It was okay. He could see his mom sitting in the kitchen chatting away to herself. Now he just needed to find somewhere to conceal a handful of immortals.
Zeus removed the invisibility helmet as Virgo dismounted, pinging them back into view. Elliot tried to look away as Zeus struggled to get his considerable girth off his horse. Zeus eventually managed to get both legs pointing in the same direction and plopped inelegantly to the ground. He pulled himself up, ripped off his tux, and revealed bright-orange Bermuda shorts and a red Hawaiian shirt underneath.
“That’s better,” he said. “Been dying to get rid of that wretched thing.”
“The tux or the bride?” asked Hermes, screeching to a halt on his motorcycle.
Virgo dropped into another dutiful low curtsy.
“Oh, enough of that nonsense,” boomed Zeus, his bright-blue eyes sparkling like sapphires. “Come here and give your old king a hug.”
Virgo ran to Zeus with a relieved smile and was soon enveloped in a vast Hawaiian bear hug.
“That’s more like it,” laughed Zeus, his twinkling gaze lighting on Elliot. “Wonderful to meet you too, Elliot. Some call me Jupiter, others call me Brontios. To at least five of my ex-wives, I’m a plumber called Bob. But you can call me Zeus.”
Elliot accepted a giant handshake, trying not to wince as the God crushed his fingers with his surprising strength.
“And this fine fellow,” said Zeus, gesturing toward the winged white stallion, “is my trusty steed, Pegasus.”
At the sound of his name, Pegasus trotted over. Elliot had loved the horses they’d had on the farm and this one was truly magnificent. He gently lifted his hand to stroke the horse’s elegant head.
“Hey, boy,” he whispered softly.
“If you require a dog to fetch you a stick, then please continue,” said Pegasus grandly, shocking Elliot into silence. “But if you are referring to me, my name is Pegasus. And I’m gasping for a mineral water.”
“You can talk!” exclaimed Elliot.
“I’m a flying horse,” said Pegasus pertly. “Talking’s the easy part. And I prefer sparkling with a twist of lime.”
Elliot looked blankly around him, having never catered for a talking, flying immortal horse.
“Oh, don’t mind him,” said Zeus dismissively. “Get off your high horse, Peg. There’s a water trough over there, that’ll do just fine.”
Pegasus looked over at the rusty trough filled with murky brown water and released a disdainful whinny.
“I suppose a few ice cubes would be too much to ask,” he huffed as he sauntered over, sticking his nose high in the air.
“Zeus—we’ve got a problem,” said Virgo, unable to look him in the eye. “I’ve done something dreadful.”
“I’m sure we can fix it,” said Zeus. “I’ve got a top-notch lawyer if we need one. She could get an Athenian out of a labyrinth and make the Minotaur pay costs. Elliot, is there a good spot to sit and chat, please?”
Instinctively feeling that a chubby God, a flying fashion model, and a talking horse might be too much for Mom, Elliot ushered the immortals toward Bessie’s cowshed, where they pulled up some hay bales. Pegasus strode in behind them, earning a flirtatious moo from Bessie as he settled down for a rest on a pile of straw.
“Isn’t this delightful!” boomed Zeus, looking around the dilapidated shed as if he were in the Ritz. “So, who is going to fill me in?”
Virgo and Elliot recounted what had happened beneath Stonehenge in as much detail as they could remember, while Hermes and Zeus listened intently.
“And that’s when I thought I should find you,” said Virgo at the end of their story, hanging her head. “I’m so sorry, Zeus, this is all my fault.”
“We’ll have no more of that,” said Zeus kindly. “If anyone’s to blame, it is me.”
“Charon said that Thanatos is still alive,” said Elliot. “Is that true?”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Elliot,” snapped Virgo. “I’m sorry, Zeus, Charon’s been filling his head with—”
“Yes,” said Zeus quietly. “Yes, it is.”
“What?” gasped Virgo.
“You’re ’aving a laugh, Dad!” yelled Hermes. “Since when?”
“Since always,” sighed Zeus. “You have to understand, when I made his father, Erebus, the king of the Daemons, we were like brothers. I’d hoped that the Gods and Daemons could work together to help the mortals. But the Chaos Stones changed Erebus. Made him power-crazed, greedy, blind to anything but his own ambition.”
“But you killed him, right?” asked Elliot.
“I did,” said Zeus, hanging his head. “It was one of the worst moments of my life. I was younger, angrier, stronger. I saw nothing but my own rage and the next thing I knew … Erebus was dead. His wife, Nyx, the Goddess of Night, was so grief-stricken that she was never seen again. But it got worse. As Erebus lay dying, his twin sons Thanatos and Hypnos—barely more than boys themselves—came running to their father’s body. I never quite recovered from that sight.”
“What happened?” asked Virgo.
“Although Hypnos was the older twin, Erebus handed the Chaos Stones to Thanatos, naming him his heir with his final breaths. Hypnos was furious—the stones were his birthright—but Erebus said Thanatos would make the better king. Hypnos never forgave his brother for that.”
“So Thanat
os wanted to finish what his father had started?” said Elliot.
“Precisely,” said Zeus. “A few centuries later, he wanted to avenge his father—and by now the Chaos Stones had corrupted him too.”
“But you killed him in that legendary duel, bosh, job done?” said Hermes. “How can Thanatos still be alive?”
“I went to destroy his kardia and deliver the death blow, but I … I couldn’t do it,” said Zeus. “All I could see was that young boy holding his father’s—my friend’s—body. I no longer had the stomach for killing. Nor for being king of the Gods. It was why I retired.”
“So you hid Thanatos under Stonehenge where no one could find him,” said Elliot, everything suddenly making sense. “And the rest of the Daemons?”
“I held the Chaos Stones in my hands and I could feel their dark power flowing through me—I’ve never experienced anything like it,” explained Zeus. “I had planned to take the Daemons’ kardia and then wipe them all out with an earthquake or a tsunami—but something stopped me. I realized it wouldn’t be a victory. It would be a massacre. I asked my brother Hades to build them a prison in Tartarus. They’ve been there ever since.”
“What happened to the Chaos Stones?” asked Elliot, trying to keep the need out of his voice.
“No worries, mate,” said Hermes. “Dad will have them locked up tighter than jeggings in January. Won’t you, Dad?”
Zeus’s attention was suddenly drawn all around the shed.
“Daaaaaaaad?” asked Hermes suspiciously. “You have got the stones, right?”
“Not … exactly,” said Zeus sheepishly. “In fact … not at all.”
Elliot’s heart plummeted. He’d been that close to solving his problems.
“So where are they?” he asked.
“There’s the rub,” said Zeus. “I can admit it now: Thanatos was stronger than me. I just couldn’t defeat him while he had the stones. I wasn’t able to win them in a fair fight, so I rather … well … sort of … ”
“You cheated!” shouted Hermes. “You dirty dog!”
“In a manner of speaking. Well—yes,” admitted Zeus. “I remembered the look on Hypnos’s face when his father passed him over in favor of Thanatos—it was pure hatred. I knew I could exploit that—and that Hypnos was the only person who could get close enough to Thanatos. They lived together in the Cave of Sleep and Death. So I struck a deal with him. If Hypnos brought me the Chaos Stones, he would escape the fate of his Daemon comrades when I won. He didn’t even think about it—the opportunity for revenge was just what he’d been waiting for. He brought me the stones that very hour.”
