"Does he know the truth, Amor?" Psyche questioned her husband. She paced for a moment, her eyes still roaming over Dropper. Bill came then and perched himself on the back of Swindle's lounge. The bird squawked and Ace took it to mean: You better not let him die.
"Look at him," Cupid replied absently, still clearly upset about the bit of news his wife had just shared with him, "Does he look like he knows much of anything?" He fell back on a lounge, propped his arms under his head and stared off into space.
"Well, I figured if he came to ancient Corinth, he might have learned something about it."
"Learned something about what?" Dropper asked.
"About what you are," Psyche replied with a tiny smirk.
He saw Dropper gulp. "Wh––what am I?"
A bloody annoying wanker, maybe? Ace thought, The source of all of our troubles? He shook his head and tried to find a vein in Swindle's arm to inject the anti-venom into. There were just so many and all of them could now be seen through Swindle's jaundiced skin. The venom was moving so fast...
Psyche started to sit down right where she was and a high-backed chair of gold appeared under her. "Dissension among the gods means there is an imbalance in the heavens," She said. "When that happens, sometimes things…" The goddess looked at Dropper, "…fall."
"And quite hard, it seems," Dropper said, rubbing the back of his head as though he was remembering the pain of almost cracking his skull on the back streets of New Elysium. Or maybe he was remembering Strafford slamming his head against the cottage wall.
Psyche gave a tight smile. "You, boy, are a constellation, fallen from your station in the upper heavens, which is known as the Regalis Stella."
There was a long moment of stifling silence.
"Say tha' again," Ace mumbled, unsure that he had heard right. He gave Strafford a look as if to ask, "Have you ever heard of this? Constellations falling out of the Realm of Stars?" His brother shook his head, no, but they shared the knowledge of now understanding why the Dropper's eyes were always twinkling. He shared a look with Chloe and realized she had figured it out as well.
"How can tha' be true?" Strafford said, clearly skeptical despite the evidence. His brother was not one to accept anyone's word at face value, especially a god's.
"You're a Prince raised up in this world," The goddess replied, "and you should understand well the complexity of it. Anything is possible."
"I know tha'. I've jus' never heard of a constellation fallin' out of the Regalis Stella before."
"Well, now you have."
He could tell Strafford was forcing himself to be patient. "Well, even if he is wha' you say, wha' does tha' have to do with you?"
Psyche smiled. "It's simple, really. My lady, Aphrodite, wants the Most Beautiful and she has grown impatient waiting for you to find it for her." She was looking at Dropper.
"Why does the goddess of Love want me to bring it to her?" Dropper asked.
"Because," Psyche said, "only with you can the Most Beautiful find true existence."
Ace didn’t have a chance to figure out what this meant. Swindle had started to breathe regularly again. The anti-venom was working, thank whichever god that actually cared.
"Wha's this Most Beautiful thing?" Strafford asked, "And why are gods tryin' to kill us over it?"
The goddess of Soul laughed. "You are simply in the way. You may be a Prince, but you are still a demigod. And as you well know, all demigods are expendable."
"That's a messed up thing to say!" Chloe snapped. Ace wanted to smile, enjoying the sight of the Oracle sticking up for them to a god. Her heart was sugar but her tongue was salt and pepper. He loved it.
Psyche shrugged. "It is true. And be warned, Pythia. Your existence is fast becoming a dilemma for Olympus. Such a problem that the very heavens quake." She gestured at Dropper. "And the stars begin to fall at your feet."
Something very strange and unexpected happened then.
A breeze started to blow around them, waves crashed hard against the barge, rocking it, and Chloe's eyes began to glow a faint yellow. Her wet, red hair instantly dried and billowed in the gentle wind making her appear like a goddess in her own right. Even Psyche looked a bit miffed by how divine Chloe suddenly looked. Jealous, one might say.
"You cannot stop the coming," Chloe said with the voice of a much older woman, her future voice. She pointed a shaking finger at Psyche. "History will repeat itself. Prepare yourselves. The great war is near."
Then she passed out.
Great. Another one down.
Strafford barely caught her before she hit the deck and made her comfortable on a few pillows strewn about nearby. His brother looked up at him, and without him saying a single word, Ace knew what to do. He had done what he could for Swindle and Dropper and all he could do now was wait and hope that it had been enough.
He fumbled around with his meds as he thought about what Chloe had just done. Did she even know what she had just done? She had chanted, another Fate-granted gift that was already warning them about the unfortunate future that lay in front of them. The great war is near, she had said. Not something you wanted to hear where the gods were concerned. A war of the gods never ended well.
Never.
He found what he was looking for just as Chloe broke out into a seizure.
"Hurry up, Ace!" Strafford barked as he lifted her hand to his lips to kiss it. If Ace hadn't been sure before that gesture of affection, he was now. Nobody knew Strafford like he did, and he now knew what had been different about his older brother for all these weeks. What all the bloody smiling had been about.
Strafford had fallen for Chloe. In a major way.
Bloody hell.
Choosing to bypass the revelation for now, Ace unscrewed the bottle of his secret muscle relaxant serum made from the sap of a cypress tree from the island of Ortygia and divine ambrosia from Olympus.
Very forbidden stuff.
Ambrosia was very sacred to the gods and was as impossible to get your hands on as pure Olympian gold. But that's what Swindle was for. While Strafford found a use for Swindle's scholarly knowledge, Ace befriended the thief in him. Why did people think he was one of the best healers Apollo had ever given his essence to? His medicines were top-notch––made with top-notch ingredients stolen from gods. That's why.
"I'll leave the delivery of that particular message to my mother up to you, love," Cupid said to Psyche as Ace administered the serum to Chloe. Her seizure ended only a few short moments later.
"Oh, you would," Psyche snapped.
"Is she okay?" Dropper, the wanker, asked. He leaned over the side of his lounge, his leg still in the healing process.
"She'll be fine," He replied, returning the serum to his pocket. "But she'll be weak. We might have to carry her."
"I'll carry her," Strafford said.
He nodded and handed him a flask of water from a spring in Delphi. "If she seizes again, give her this." Strafford nodded, trying not to look worried.
"I could kiss her and make it all better, Prince," Cupid offered. Strafford glared and the young god laughed, though he stopped when he got a glimpse of Psyche's expression.
"Don't the two of you have somewhere else to be?" Ace spat at the god and goddess, standing. "Or do you insist on wastin' more of our time? If you haven't noticed, we're on a frickin' mission here." He didn't usually have the guts to speak to the deities like this, but they were getting on his bloody nerves. He blamed them for Chloe's seizure. He blamed them for Swindle, he even blamed them for Dropper. He blamed them for everything.
"Well, isn't this lot just full of bold tongues, Amor?" Psyche spit back. Cupid shrugged, clearly not caring about Ace’s bad attitude. "You know as well as anyone, hero, that you are at our mercy right now. But luckily for you, the goddess does not expect Amor to adhere to her wishes and apprehend the fallen star, but to disregard them as he has so many times before."
"It's true," Cupid said, looking bloody proud of himself. "My constant disob
edience is the only reason we're even married, you know."
He did know. Thousands of years ago, Cupid had been ordered by a jealous Aphrodite to make the beautiful mortal Princess Psyche fall in love with an ugly man. But instead, Cupid had kept her for himself, putting into motion a series of events that would literally send Psyche to hell and back. As a reward for surviving it, Zeus made Psyche a goddess and she became Cupid's wife.
"Okay, so wha' are you sayin'?" Strafford said. Chloe was still out cold, but at least not seizing. "Everyone already knows you're a disobedient lil' prick. Wha's your point?"
Cupid smirked, realizing that Strafford was still pissed about him snogging Chloe. "My point is, hero, that your unspoken wish is granted. We're going to leave as we came and without what we came for. It's against our law to force mortals and the likes of to do our will. We only make you wish that you had."
"So you are leaving me here then?" Dropper asked, surprised.
Cupid shrugged nonchalantly. "Yes. It’s never wise to put desires before destiny, even for gods. Only ask my sweet Psyche what she was made to go through the last time I did that. No, I think I’ll be staying out of this mess. It’s much more pragmatic to let fate run its’ course. Isn’t that right, Strafford?” When Strafford only glared at him, he laughed. “Besides, the end result of us letting you go will be much more entertaining for me.”
“Wha’ the bloody hell does tha’ mean?” Ace asked just as Swindle's eyes fluttered opened, accompanied by a soft groan. A swell of pride surged through him because his best friend was going to live. He poured a little water into his mouth.
“It means, that if you think my mother is going to just let this fly, you’ve definitely inhaled too much laurel.”
“Stop talking them in circles, Amor,” Psyche said. “My husband only means that the goddess always has a backup plan. And the Graces have no such qualms about interfering with destiny.”
Their silence turned to ice around them, they were quiet so long. Psyche's words floated above them, making the air dense with anxiety. Even Strafford had no smart ass response to come back with.
This mission had just gotten fatal.
The three attendants of Aphrodite, the Graces, were assassins, not the beautiful, gentle angels mortals had made them out to be. And if Aphrodite sent them after you, it was clear she meant business.
The business of die now.
Knowing Cupid wouldn't come through for her, Aphrodite had employed the Graces to make sure she got what she wanted––the Dropper, a fallen star and the key to the prophecy, with permission to take out anyone that got in their way.
Swindle had somehow pushed himself up into a sitting position, but still suffered from the poisonous effects of the Scorpion sting. However, it was clear in his eyes that he had heard the bit about the Graces. He gave Ace a look that said he understood their predicament perfectly––they were so, so dead.
“I will go, if it puts Chloe in danger,” Dropper was thick enough to offer.
“No,” Strafford replied, surprising the heck out of Ace. He had thought his brother had been counting down the hours until they ditched Dropper.
“Why not?” Dropper questioned.
Strafford glared at him. “Because the prophecy is not fulfilled. Handing you over will only delay the inevitable.”
“But maybe this is the inevitable.”
“It’s not.” Strafford now glared at Cupid. “Because if it was, the goddess would not have sent him to handle this.”
"Smart Prince you are," said Cupid, grinning. "But may I make a suggestion?”
“As if you would shut up if I said no.”
Cupid laughed. “Right you are! But as for my suggestion, simply find the Most Beautiful before the Graces find you." This revelation was followed by complete silence. "Well, don't look at me to tell you how! Look to your Oracle for help. She knows what she has to do. When she wakes up, everything will be more clear." He turned to his wife. "I believe our work here is done, Soul."
"Your mother is still going to be livid, Amor." Psyche stood and her throne became a golden mist that cleared a moment later.
The god of Love snorted. "And what's so unusual about that? Good luck, heroes. Hope to see you alive in the future."
Liars! Ace wanted to shout. He could bet big drachmas that they were dying to see them fail. The gods liked nothing better than to be proven right.
The two gods disappeared in a brilliant flash and except for Strafford, who was born with the ability to tolerate blinding light, they all turned their heads or covered their eyes.
"Now what?" asked Dropper.
"We get Chloe somewhere safe, tha's wha'," Strafford said, returning to her side.
"Do you know wha' the Most Beautiful is?" Ace asked Dropper. "Can you remember anythin' at all?" He still couldn't believe that Dropper was a bloody fallen star, a constellation from the Regalis Stella. How had he become a mortal?
Dropper shook his head. He looked pitiful. "I do not remember anything." He moved his ankle around in a circle. "I think I will be okay now." Ace dropped down to check. His leg looked healed, but he gave Dropper another pharmakon pill and a few laurel leaves just to be sure.
He looked up and saw his brother staring with furrowed brows down at the palm of Chloe's hand. He laid her arm across her chest, then stared at his own hand for a while. He stood.
"Wha's going on, bro?" Ace asked.
"Let me see your hand, fella," He said, approaching Dropper.
Dropper held up his hands in defense. "I promise you, Your Highness, I do not remember––"
"Don't be thick. I'm not gonna hurt you…this time. Jus' give me your hand." Ace believed him. Strafford wouldn't kill him until the prophecy had been fulfilled and Chloe was safe. Then it would be his pleasure.
Dropper did as he was told and stuck out his hand. Strafford glanced at it quickly then nodded.
"Yup, you're definitely an icey now. You have Kismet lines," He said, "Tha' means you can receive a prophecy."
Ace frowned. "But the Oracle's Dictum says––"
"I know wha' it says. He's not a divinity or a demigod, so it's forbidden unless otherwise permitted by Apollo. I may be wrong, but I think he'll be pretty willin' to do anything the great Pythia asks him to do." He didn't need to question his brother as to why he thought that. They both knew the answer.
"Okay, so how do we find Da?" He questioned. He knew their father would be almost impossible to get in contact with. One could only find their Da when he wanted to be found…and that was hardly ever.
"I know." A small smile sprang to Swindle's pallid face. His voice was feeble but clear. "Hermes Mail."
"Hermes Mail?" Dropper questioned, "What is that?"
"It's how my father delivers and sends messages between the gods," Swindle explained in his weak voice, "Well, that's its main purpose. But if you have access to the network, anyone can use it. You only send letters through Iris Post if you have a century to wait for them to get to their destination, I don't care what she says." Ace smiled. If Swindle was cracking jokes, it meant he was feeling better. "My father will get the message to Lord Apollo quickly, no matter where he is," Swindle said, "and luckily for you jukkas, I have a way to contact him."
"Do you think tha's a good idea though?" Ace asked, "Purposely lettin' her have contact with another Olympian besides our Da?" He gave his brother a look.
"We don't have much of a choice," Strafford replied, glancing at Chloe. Did he dare say his brother looked googly-eyed?
"Besides, my father wouldn't hurt her," Swindle said, his tired brown eyes narrowed. "You know that."
"Calm down, Swindle," said Dropper, "I am sure Ace did not mean it as an insult." Ace was surprised to hear the Dropper speak up for him. There was no truce between them. He still didn't like the wanker.
"Who asked you, twinkle eyes?" Swindle mumbled, clearly on his way back to normal.
"You know tha's not wha' I meant, Lenka," Ace said. He always used his best f
riend's real name when he wanted him to know he was dead serious.
Swindle sighed. "Yeah, I know." He whistled two fast tweets and Bill climbed onto his shoulder. "And thanks...for not letting me die and all."
"No problem." They exchanged smiles and went for hugs, but realized how queer that was and bumped knuckles instead.
Strafford cleared his throat, cutting short their moment of pansy behavior. "We need to get back to land, to the heavens and to the present," He said, "I don't want to spend another second three thousand years from when I was born."
"Looks like the boat is already taking us towards land," said Swindle, pointing at ancient Athens looming in the near distance.
"Do you not think that Aphrodite might have already led the Graces straight to us and they are waiting for us on shore?" Dropper asked. He pushed himself into a standing position and tested out his leg. It was as good as new.
"That's only the first important question," Chloe coughed, finally waking up. It seemed she had been absorbing their conversation while trying to return to full consciousness.
"Wha' do you mean, Red?" Strafford helped her to sit up. She asked for water and he handed her the flask. "Wha' else is important?" They all leaned in to hear her answer.
Chloe coughed again. "The important question is, if Aphrodite sent Cupid and the Graces after us, then who sent Hecate?"
*****
XXIII. Chloe
Chloe couldn't remember much of what had happened before she passed out and Strafford had refused to burden her with the details. She did remember them sailing for Athens, but instead of docking off the coast of the city that they saw before them, they landed on the edge of a massive forest and steep mountains that appeared out of nowhere. Strafford had recognized it at once as the heavenly Spritewood and declared they were back in the present based on the heat of the sun. He said it was way hotter than in the past. How he figured that out, she didn't know.
They found refuge inside the highest cave of the mountain peak Strafford called, Mount Ida. He insisted on carrying her until she got her strength back and she immediately took him up on it. The entire chanting, as he called it, had left her pretty weak and she spent the climb half asleep in his arms.
Prophecy of the Most Beautiful Page 24
