For the next ten minutes or so, she slept deeply in his arms while Ares sat in the sunlight. There was no doubt in his mind that there was Ichor in her veins. Trouble was it laid dormant so long Alena was going to have problems learning to use and regulate it. Olympian children were encouraged to use their Powers from the second they were discovered so they were simply a part of them and not something that suddenly jumped out of the shadows one day to overtake them. He would help her; he would guide her and make her strong.
Alena’s eyes slowly rolled open and they fluttered closed again against the bright sunlight. Raising a weary hand to shade them she looked up at him. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix it.”
Ares chuckled and kissed her forehead. “You’d need a backhoe to fix that, hmmm?” He gave her a hug and whispered, “Nice work.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Facing Extinction
1
From the highest peaks to the lowest ocean trenches, the Olympians scoured the Earth in search of the others like them, those who had once been called Gods. Not one was found. They did manage to find a few lesser beings, but not many. In a great panic, they all fled back to Olympus where they clustered in small groups before they were called to the Council Chamber.
Aphrodite sat at her pink marble vanity in her pink marble room surrounded by pink roses and candles. She fluffed her hair while she stared into the mirror thinking of what she was going to say when her turn came. It was very important that she not let her spiteful nature get the better of her and thereby tip her hand.
“Are you all right, Mother?”
Aphrodite looked past herself in the mirror to see the reflection of Eros standing behind her. “This whole thing is very upsetting,” she offered in a huff.
“I know,” Eros said easily as he wandered further into the room and up behind her. “Did you find Hephaestus?”
“What? No, no, I didn’t,” the Goddess of Love muttered. In truth she didn’t even look for him. Aphrodite knew her Husband was dead and had been for a very long time. It was just that she’d opted to keep that information to herself rather than share it with the rest. “Did you find anyone?”
Eros shrugged his sinewy shoulders. “Daphne and a few of her Nymphs were hiding on an island not far from here, with Circe.”
“That witch still lives?” Daughter of Helios, Circe had never been anything but trouble for any of them. She delighted in casting spells and curses upon the Olympians just to taunt them. That damn wand of hers could turn anyone, even an Olympian, into an animal of Circe’s choosing and the spell could never be broken. “Daphne too?” That was unwelcome news as well. Long ago Apollo fell in love with Daphne but she never returned his affections no matter how hard Apollo tried. This had been a small bone of contention between Eros and Apollo for ages. As it turned out, Eros was playing one of his little games and he’d struck Apollo with a golden arrow, causing him to fall instantly in love with the beautiful Woodland Nymph Daphne. However, Eros earlier struck Daphne with an iron arrow so that she could never fall in love with anyone. Apollo chased after Daphne for centuries and she spent centuries doing everything she could to avoid him.
Just a little bit of fun among Olympians, that’s all.
“I brought her here as Grandfather demanded,” Eros offered still in an easy voice, “she’s waiting back in my tower. You found no one at all?”
“Morpheus, but that’s all,” Aphrodite whispered and closed her eyes. It was hard to believe that Cernunnos was actually pulling this off, but the evidence was clear. Morpheus had been hiding out for years; he truly had become sick of the bickering of his distant relatives and went to live a quiet life doing what he did best; bringing prophetic dreams to Mortals. When she’d gone to see him earlier in the day to convince him that he had to return to Olympus, Morpheus wasn’t happy. Aphrodite had kept in touch with the King of Dreams since he left Olympus, promising never to divulge his location to their shared relatives. She’d availed herself to his talents on more than one occasion, most recently where Ares’ dreams were concerned. They couldn’t afford for that information to become known. Morpheus would keep his mouth shut and so would Aphrodite and since they were the only two who knew, that would shut out the rest. Besides, as soon as this was over Morpheus would retreat away from Olympus and back to his quiet life. Opening those pretty baby blues she turned around in the small chair to gaze directly upon her Son. “This is going to get ugly.”
Eros was just as surprised to hear that Morpheus was still rattling around, as Aphrodite had been to hear of Circe. Morpheus was an odd duck like Hades. Not truly alive and not truly dead, the King of Dreams was unsettlingly transparent, ghostly. One could see right through him and he could float through walls—even ones made of solid stone like those that made up Ares’ cave— rather than teleport through them. More than that, Morpheus could bring the most intensely erotic dreams, the kind that made one wake spent, satisfied, and covered in their own lustful sweat or the most horrific nightmares, the kind made one jolt awake, heart racing in one’s throat and the sweat on your skin feel like a thin layer of ice. “Most definitely.” Ugly was probably too soft a word for what was going to go down in the Council Chamber in the next few minutes. It was going to be downright vile. “Don’t worry, Mother, I’ve got your back,” Eros assured as he traced his fingertips along Aphrodite’s bare shoulders. “You still have mine, don’t you?”
“You need to ask?” Aphrodite sounded insulted.
“You know how much I want Alena, Mother.” Eros grimaced as he tilted his blonde head from side to side pondering her question. “So, I feel it’s best. Just humor me, Mother.”
Planting one hand on her ample hip and the other on her Son’s cheek, she looked up at him and sweetly batted her long eyelashes. “I always have your back, Eros.”
2
While Mother and Son spoke in her bedroom, Hera, Zeus, Hades and Poseidon gathered in Zeus’ throne room. Zeus was too frantic to sit upon his massive golden throne; instead he paced around the white and black marble room in long strides, leaning heavily upon his Staff, the tip of which made an endless clicking sound as it struck the floor. “You heard that Circe and a band of Nymphs have been found, Daphne is said to be among them,” Poseidon ventured before going on. “Morpheus as well.”
Morpheus.
Zeus was surprised to hear of the discovery of both. He didn’t really care about his distant Niece Circe, but he never trusted his Cousin Morpheus. Anyone that another could clearly see through was not a being that could be trusted. To Zeus’ mind, Morpheus was a mutant, an abomination, just like that bastard child Alena was carrying. “That freak of nature,” the God of Gods muttered as he stroked his chest length white beard. “We’ll deal with them in time. None of you found any God? Not one?” Zeus was very disheartened. He had looked for those he’d once known, he’d gone to the Northlands to look for Thor, Odin and Loki but found the lands devoid of Gods. Zeus flew to India seeking out Shiva, Kali and Vishnu, still he found no one.
The Siblings all looked from one to another and then to their Oldest brother. Together they said: “No.”
Hera spoke and expanded a bit. “No Gods, I found a few Faeries still living in Britain. A very small cluster. That was as close as I dared go to Cernunnos’ land.”
“You shouldn’t have gone that far! Are you out of your mind, my Wife?” Zeus admonished. “If he had sensed your presence he could have sent his remaining Druids after you.”
Hera had gone that far because she wanted to see what she could see and talk to anyone who might be of help to them. The Faery told her of a Fey Village that once existed several hundred miles from their location but Cernunnos had burned it to the ground hundreds of years ago. Other than that, the Faery knew of no others like them and they had been stunned to see Hera come to their quaint little gathering place. “I believe this must have been Alena’s village, don’t you think, my Husband? That would make her truly the very last of her kind.” Hera was no fool, sh
e’d spent her entire life with Zeus and she knew that he was very unhappy with Alena’s position in Ares’ life. If she were just another one of Ares’ little whores, Zeus wouldn’t care, but Ares had the nerve to elevate her beyond that. Savages could never become Queens, not in Zeus’ mind. They were good for fucking on the throne but not for sitting upon it.
“Is that supposed to mean something to me, Wife?” Zeus asked sternly.
“Should it?” Hera countered softly.
Hades intervened. “We can’t afford any more infighting, that includes you two. You’re supposed to be our Leaders, act like it,” he admonished. “I know how you feel about Alena, my brother, but for now you have to let it go. When the smoke clears, if she still stands, you can deal with it then.”
“Deal with it?” Hera asked sharply. “I hope you know, dear Husband, that at that time you will also be dealing with me.”
It was Poseidon’s turn to speak. “Why champion her, Hera?”
“She’s nothing,” Zeus agreed. “She’s a savage, blood thirsty Celt, and she has no right to bear Olympian seed.”
Walking around the throne room almost as though she were floating on the air, Hera held herself high and gazed at each of her Brothers as she passed them until she came back to Zeus. “On the contrary, Alena makes my Son happy. Why do you want to deny him this? It doesn’t take anything away from you.”
“His mere existence takes away from me,” Zeus countered.
3
With the sun only a few hours from setting, the Olympians and the newcomers—Morpheus, Circe, 12 Woodland Nymphs led by Daphne and 13 Faeries who were not keen on coming here—gathered in the Council Chamber to, in turn, tell their respective tales of their adventures in seeking out the Others.
The Faeries spoke last, led by a very small and old man named Elvin who stooped over so deeply, he was always looking at his feet. Like most Faeries, Elvin stood no more than nine inches tall. He had two sets of iridescent wings upon his hunched back and two pointed ears on the sides of his head. Fluttering in the air to hover at eye level with the seated Olympians, he told the fantastical and horrific tale of Old Gods who’d simply disappeared one by one. No one had seen Brigid or Ceridwen or Icaunus, or Lenus, not even Rhiannon and she loved to run wild and free through the forest upon her horse. After they disappeared, Cernunnos, it was whispered, began to call foreign Gods to his Great Hall. Once or twice these Gods had been seen going through the gates, but never had one been seen departing.
They told of the systemic destruction of their kind by the Druids as well as the ethnic cleansing of the remaining tribes of Elves, Dwarves and Fey, which once lived nearby. “We didn’t know who to prevail upon,” Elvin spoke in a very creaky old voice, “we do not like being here and understand that we are not welcome, but we would ask for your assistance, Great God Zeus. We do not wish to see all of our kind perish from this Earth.”
“If you were not welcome here, Lord Elvin, you would not be here,” Zeus said sternly.
“Then the rumors are not true?” Elvin prodded gently, although his back was beginning to ache as he struggled to hold himself up straight and he was rapidly tiring from fluttering so long. “You do not harbor a hatred for those from the Celtic Lands?”
Diplomacy was always such a pain in the ass. It was bad enough Zeus had to sit here, his old eyes trying to focus on the tiny fluttering man, listening to him tell his sad tale of woe and doing all that he could to hide his pleasure at the news of the dead and dying Celtic beings, but on top of it he had to lie with grace and tact. “You could have come to me, Lord Elvin, long ago and asked for our assistance.”
“Yes,” Elvin agreed softly, “but would we have received it?”
Poseidon watched as Zeus pursed his lips and his upper lip began to curl. The King of the Seas thought it best to head this off at the pass; he stood up to take command of the conversation even though it was not his turn. “These acts are outrages! Abominations!” Poseidon spat vehemently. “They’re damn sins!” In order to emphasis his point, Poseidon picked up his Trident and brought it down hard against the marble at his feet.
Hades agreed that they were horrendous and even cowardly deeds. The systematic picking-off of so many powerful and grand creatures could not be ignored.
“Sin?” Aphrodite scoffed. “We don’t even understand such concepts.”
Even with everything else that was going on, Aphrodite’s words appalled Zeus. “Some things, Aphrodite, are so outrageous, so blatantly crimes against all that is good and right in this world, they are sins,” he corrected. “What Cernunnos has done is unforgivable. The question is, what can we do about it?”
For Aphrodite the answer was simple and she hoped the rest would agree. “Nothing.”
Apollo was immediately outraged by Aphrodite’s betrayal of their agreement and he stood up heatedly. “I want Justice for my sister!” He slammed his fist down upon the marble table.
Aphrodite looked past her angry Lover to her Son. Eros took his cue and rose slowly from his seat. “Other than Artemis, which was probably nothing more than the tragic result of a Lover’s quarrel gone awry, Cernunnos has done nothing to us that we’re aware of.”
“And Hephaestus?” Poseidon challenged. “What of him?”
“That’s right,” Apollo said with a strong voice. “Are we to stand here and do nothing? I say no.”
Eros rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. “Just because she couldn’t find him doesn’t mean he came to harm at Cernunnos’ hands.”
Aphrodite spoke once more, calmly and with soft distinction. “With deference to my dear Apollo and his understandable need for vengeance,” she began and then paused a moment to look at her Lover, knowing he was furious with her at this moment. “As far as we know, all Cernunnos wants of us is that little whore of Ares’. I say she’s in this with Cernunnos—she’s certainly brought us nothing but trouble. We should make Ares hand her over to him and be rid of her.”
The idea hung in the air like a zeppelin in which the gas was slowly being replaced by lead. It sunk down deep and slow, stunning all into silence as they weighed the option in their own minds. Eros found it very difficult to stand still and hold his tongue at his Mother’s suggestion. When he agreed to back her up no matter what she said, this was not what he had in mind. Eros knew his Mother was a spiteful bitch but he didn’t think she’d cross him on this. Aphrodite knew Eros had an eye, and possibly a heart, for Alena. Ares had the audacity to fall in love with the little Fey; Eros should have known that was a death sentence for Alena. Beautiful as she was treacherous, Aphrodite might as well have picked up two daggers and stabbed both he and Apollo in the back as they stood here.
“The idea has merit,” Zeus said to no one and everyone.
“No!” Apollo thundered. “Give the bitch back if you want but don’t let this go unanswered, Father.”
“How unlike you, my Husband.” Hera stood up from her seat. “I cannot believe you would consider such a thing. Not take revenge for Artemis? She was your Daughter; I know how much you loved her.” She paused a moment to gather herself before the frustration stirring inside could overtake her mouth. The idea that Zeus would want to hand Alena over to Cernunnos as though she were yesterday’s trash had no shock for her, but that he was willing to turn his back on vengeance for Artemis was a slap in the face to all of them. “What guarantee do we have that Cernunnos will not come after us even after we give him Alena? Do you think Ares will still stand and fight for us once you’ve taken away his woman and his child?”
Aphrodite kept her seat as she cleared her throat and gave out a winning smile to those around her. “Cernunnos is bound to his lands. If we don’t go there, then he can’t touch us. What do we care about the rest of them anyway? It’s not like we ever did before.” Although the Olympians, like the Egyptian Gods, were not chained to their lands—they could and did travel the world far and wide and still retain their Powers—an unwritten law had always ruled this area of diplomacy be
tween divinities; You Stay On Your Side of the Fence and I Will Stay On Mine. As such intermingling had always been sparse, confined only to necessity or mere chance.
“Coward!” Athena charged.
“I’m a Lover not a Fighter, honey.”
For the first time Circe spoke up. She was an older woman with straggly gray hair and tattered clothes, her tired brown eyes had been looking out at the world for far too long from the dark depths of her cave. “I agree with Aphrodite. Cernunnos is not coming after me, up until today no one knew where I was. If he’s killing Gods then I am not on his list. I would prefer to stay out of this.”
“As would I.” Morpheus spoke as he stood up, knowing Zeus was not interested in his opinion. The King of Dreams never understood if the God of Gods didn’t like him simply because Morpheus was not an Olympian or if it was because he was the only one among them capable of reaching into Zeus’ mind. Morpheus never intended to return to Olympus, but here he was standing in stark contrast to Eros. The two were similar in body type and even in the clothing they chose to wear—or not wear as the case may be—but where Eros carried a bow and arrow, Morpheus hand two black satin sacks hanging around his waist. While both contained Dream Dust, the one on his right hip would bring the dreamer the sweetest of dreams and the one on his left would bring nightmares of the deepest darkest caliber. Morpheus had hair that was black as midnight and skin—such as it was— whiter than snow with his raven wings branching out from his shoulder blades. “This is not my fight.”
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