The Modern Gods

by C M Thorne

  “Sister!” she reached out and grabbed for Diane’s hands, realizing then that she had resumed screaming, eyes glassy as her power took over her in her grief. “Help me find him before it is too late!” Adella yelled, trying to pull her sister to her.

  Diane lurched forward, grasping back at her hands firmly as she closed her eyes. Adella closed hers as well, letting her power mix with her sister’s as they reached out to find their father. An island flashed before her eyes and without asking, Adella used her power to bring them both there, moving them through the veil of the worlds with every ounce of her strength. She opened her eyes as they reformed and fell away from each other.

  They were outside a sprawling villa that dominated the island. A white-hot column of lightning shot up into the sky, followed a second later by a deafening, thunderous boom that instantly caused the palatial villa to blow apart. Adella steadied herself as the shockwave blew past her and her sister. In its wake, the island immediately burst into all manner of new plant growth. Without thinking, Adella teleported closer to where she had felt her father, ignoring the fact that there was no trace of him now. Not even a whisper of their connection.

  Her brother’s presence wasn’t there either, but she was surprised to feel another there, waiting for her and Diane. Her sister appeared at her left side and she could feel the collective presence of the other Olympians before they too appeared in the ruined villa. Poseidon stepped out from nothingness on the other side of the courtyard, eyes wide in shock at her looked around. Ares came up near him with his sisters and children behind him. Adella had not seen him in decades, as he no longer bothered with much of the politics of their divine world. Others began to appear, even the deities that regularly stayed in the heavens came to circle around the bodies of Apollo and Zeus, and the woman that was sitting there, weeping and cradling Zeus’ head. All who were not dead, dormant, or in the underworld had come. Adella could not recall the last time so many of them had gathered.

  She could not help but gasp as the form of her aunt Hestia appeared, standing not three feet from the woman on the ground with Zeus’ body. The goddess had not left Olympus, the palace of the gods in their heavenly realm, since had taken up her place at the eternal fire, becoming goddess of the hearth after the fall of the Titans. Her flowing white dress clung to her shoulders and billowed out behind her in a ten-foot train. The material of the dress shimmered with strands of sparkling gold and silver that were woven into the silky fabric. She pushed back the hood, revealing her long dark hair that was piled up atop her head in an intricate braid. Her creamy olive skin glowed with a warm, golden light from within, revealing her true godly state.

  “Mother,” Hestia finally broke the silence that had grown in the broken courtyard amongst the assembled deities. She said the word so matter of factly. It was not a question. It was not even a leading comment. It was simple, a statement that carried the weight of so much more than its one word. Not many could do that. If Hestia recognized the kneeling woman, the goddess, as her mother, then Adella was in the presence of her grandmother for the first time in her very long life.

  The Titaness was dressed in a white uniform that was wet and stained with the dark blue ichor that also coated Zeus’ lifeless form. Her hair looked to be the same shade of auburn as her own, though Rhea’s fell in messy waves down to her waist. Her form looked to be as if she was a woman in her late forties by human standards. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and drying ichor caked her forehead, where she must have wiped the back of her hand. Despite all of that, Rhea was extraordinarily beautiful in her sorrow.

  She had clearly not used her power in quite some time, as the island was now overtaken with new life, plants reaching up to the darkened sky. Her skin sparkled ever so slightly as she strength returned to her after shielding herself for so long. Adella knew that the only way her grandmother would have been able to truly hide from Zeus and the others was for her to dampen her power, to lock away her divinity. Now, she radiated with energy, but she also noticed that her grandmother was trembling. Her own power was overwhelming to her, that much Adella could see, as she must not have used even an ounce of her talent for eons.

  Rhea did not speak, only lifted her face to look around at those gathered around her. They were all her children. None of those that came in response to these terrible deaths would be alive if not for her. Adella wanted to say something, but even the goddess of wisdom could not find the words, eyes wide as she continued to take in the scene. She waited for Hestia to say something more, but it was Hera who moved forward.

  Hera was dressed in an emerald green toga style dress, trimmed in gold embroidery and tied with a rope belt of what Adella assumed was pure gold. A sparkling crown rested on top of the goddess’ coppery tresses, which were gathered up off her neck. She preferred to stylize herself in the ancient ways, much as Hestia did. She did not leave the heavens often as well, only occasionally visiting the realm of mortals. Her smooth face was a mask, not a trace of emotion in her arched eyebrows as she looked down her nose her mother. “What happened?” Her voice was soft, yet filled with authority, with commanding power.

  Rhea shook her head, vibrant blue eyes looking down to her son’s lifeless body. “I arrived after it happened. I caught his dying moments. He made me swear,” her voice broke, “swear to protect mankind from t-“

  “You dare,” Hera interrupted, voice rising slightly as she clenched her teeth. “How could you murder your own son?” She seethed now, glassy eyes filling with dark fury.

  “I swear to you, I did not do-“

  “Liar!” Hera’s voice rose. “You alone are here! You and no other found with his body! How else would you explain what we now see?”

  “Sister!” Hestia raised her own voice uncharacteristically, her tone that of a stern parent reprimanding a child. “Our mother swears she did not do this. I believe her.” She held Hera’s gaze with a strength Adella had not known her aunt possessed. “You know as well as I that she could never harm one of her children. You know it in your bones.”

  Hera ripped her eyes away with small scoff, trying to blow her sister off. Hestia shook her head and spoke up once more, “She was called here by his death. Just as we all were.”

  “He forgave me,” Rhea’s voice whispered sadly. “I came to try to save him. I could barely summon the power. It was too late.”

  Poseidon, now known on Earth as Nigel, stepped forward, straight his dark tie that was pulled up tightly against his throat. “Forgave you?” he asked dubiously, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at his mother. His eyes were dark and did not betray what he was thinking or feeling, as usual. “I would never,” he added a moment later, grimacing as the hushed words seemed to escape from between his teeth. He looked away. “I doubt my brother ever would either.”

  Hestia knelt at Rhea’s side and placed her hand on the Titan goddess’ cheek without hesitation. She closed her eyes and Adella knew that Hestia diving through Rhea’s mind, searching her memories. The Titaness closed her own eyes, clearly allowing her daughter’s presence access to her mind. If two gods opened their minds to each other, there was nothing that could be kept from the other. It was the ultimate action to show total honesty and trust. It was not done often. Adella had never truly opened her mind to another before and she was shocked to see such a thing happen without discussion, without hesitation.

  Both goddess and Titaness held their position for several long moments, wandering through the lifetime that was laid out to them. Finally, Hestia withdrew her hand and her eyes shifted to look up at Hera. “She is telling the truth. He forgave her.”

  Hera huffed, glaring at her sister, but she did not question the truth of what she had seen. “And,” Hestia continued, shifting slightly and looking to Adella, “he asked mother to help Athena in finding all of the weapons capable of taking divine life.”

  Poseidon and Hera snapped their attention to Adella, who stood unmoving, stunned by everything that was taking place.
She tried to move, to step forward, but she hesitated. “He named me,” her voice was barely a whisper, escaping from her dry throat roughly. Her aunt’s steady gaze and the truth of her words filled her with vindication.

  Rhea shook her head however, melodic voice lifting, “His words imply that you are to take the throne, but he did not expressly name you queen.”

  “My father was not named either, He was empowered and he took it,” Diane stepped around Adella, her own divinity taking over and revealing her as the gleaming moon goddess. Before Adella’s eyes, she was Artemis once more, dark hair flying out around her face wildly as she shone with silver light. “The king of the gods could have easily been one of our uncles. But neither had the power to seize it for themselves!”

  “Profanation!” Poseidon raged. “We agreed to divide creation! My brother took the throne through an agreement! Our pact,” he seethed, clenching his fists as his sides. “I have every right to rule now!”

  Hestia rose to her feet as Artemis moved forward, stopping a few feet from the body of their father. “Zeus wanted Athena,” her aunt’s voice echoed out. “She has ruled over the earth for centuries in his name. She is his heir.” She glanced to her brother, her face smooth and eyes unwavering as she added, “This has not been contested for millennia.”

  “I have as much right, if not more, than my dear niece. She has served her father nobly,” his spoke quickly, voice agitated. “Now, if she has any true loyalty, she will serve me just as well” He paused to glare at the moon goddess, his tone hardening to mock or to threat, “As will you, Diane.”

  Adella stepped forward. “If my father bequeathed such a burden to me, and,” she paused to search her grandmother’s eyes, “you mother, then I think Zeus all but named me as his heir.” Her uncle’s eyes darkened as he lowered his head to fix her with a challenging glare. She did not let it quiet her. No, she had always risen to her uncle’s challenges. “Besides,” she smirked as she looked deep into the black depths of his eyes, “the throne has never passed between siblings.”

  “It has never passed to a woman,” Poseidon quipped back.

  “Well, perhaps it’s time that changed,” Adella countered.

  “Yes,” her uncle chuckled, “perhaps it is time for a change. I think that it w-“

  “Enough!” Hera interjected, her right hand whipping up to command silence. “I am still the queen of the heavens. Who takes Zeus’ place will have to rule with me. Zeus and I shared power,” she glanced at her mother, “unlike our parents.”

  She walked around the ruined courtyard as she continued, looking at the gathered deities in turn. “This situation,” Hera motioned to the scene before them all, “is unprecedented. We must unite and stand strong, for the other families will know of this soon, if they do not already. We need someone to ascend the throne to secure our power. Our position in this realm.” She wove her words together expertly, the others nodding along as she stopped to glare at Athena and then her brother. “That person must have the power of Zeus in order to claim his title.”

  Hestia nodded, “We should return to Olympus then. The thunderbolts can only be handled by one with such power, sister. Let them be put to the test.”

  Rhea finally placed Zeus’ head on the ground gently and moved to stand. Hera watched her with a look Adella could not describe before the queen addressed the others. “Let us reconvene in the heavens. Let it be put to the test.”

  Several deities bowed their head and disappeared in turn, stepping away to move through space, between the realms. Adella stood there, quietly attempting to repress the anger that had risen in her gut at being challenged by her uncle. She followed Hestia’s movements as she bent down to lay a hand on Zeus’ chest before she dematerialized herself and her brother. Hera’s sapphire eyes flicked up to Adella before she too teleported away.

  Diane had moved over to kneel next to their brother, her extended hand hovering over his tanned skin. Adella walked over to lower herself of Apollo’s other side. She reached out to Diane’s hand. “I am here for you,” she spoke softly as her other hand lowered to her brother. He was cold, all warmth and power now gone. This wasn’t her brother. It was his shell. She clenched her jaw as the sadness that rose to her throat and threatened her composure. Without another word, she allowed her power to rise, to teleport the three of them away.

  CHAPTER 2: WHEN LIGHTNING STRIKES

  IT WAS JUST past sunrise on a cool Saturday morning when Thea Matthews pulled into the parking lot of her mother’s dance studio. It had been a year since she’d started dancing again, having stopped after moving away for college. Thea found herself happy to be back here. It had been an ordeal to find a style that Thea enjoyed, her mother pushing every style under the sun until they found one that Thea wasn’t just technically brilliant at, but one that excited her. Loraine Matthews was flighty and scattered, but dancing was her passion, and she was determined for Thea to find a style that matched her.

  Thea wasn’t airy and artsy like her mom. Nor was she romantic or expressive like her father. She usually blamed it on the fact that she was adopted, and thus not genetically related to either of them, but maybe she just wasn’t in touch with her emotions that way. But she’d found freedom in the structure of ballet, and now she thrived.

  She slid out of her silver Toyota 4runner and locked it behind her, hurrying to the front door before she was late. Behind the front desk, her mother sat, wrapped in a light blue cardigan. Her wild silvery hair was pulled into a bun at the top of her head, curls still managing to escape. She removed her green and gold reading glasses, pushing them up into her hair, eyes crinkling when she smiled at her daughter.

  Reno wasn’t far from Las Vegas, but it had felt too far after her mother had been diagnosed with cancer. The cancer had aged her mother considerably. Her previously finely lined face was now a mask of deep wrinkles and permanent dark circles under her brown eyes. She was nearly sixty-five now though, so she did not look especially old for her age. Her mother had just always looked exceptionally young before the battle and Thea was not used to her aged visage. Her mother hopped off her stool behind the desk and came around to gather Thea in a hug. She had always been thin but fit. Now she was nearly skin and bones. She was only seven months post treatment, still doing monthly blood tests to ensure she was truly in remission. Her strength was coming back, but Thea squeezed her back lightly, afraid that she might hurt her frail mother.

  “Good morning, bug.” Her mother kissed her cheek.

  Thea winced as she stepped back from her mother. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”

  “I will stop calling you that the day you stop being my bug.” She wrinkled her nose in a laugh, reaching out and rubbing the back of Thea’s left arm. “Chris is already in there warming up, but I have already received several messages from sick students. So, small class today most likely. This flu is a persistent one.” Her mother shook her head as she slid back onto to her seat and wiggled the mouse to wake up her computer.

  Thea pressed her shoulders down and rolled her head around, “That doesn’t sound bad.” She sighed as her neck cracked. Small classes meant more one-on-one time. She was on edge and a nice, tough class sounded perfect for easing her tension. “This week was a mess and a small class sounds perfect.”

  Her mother laughed, but said nothing else. Thea shrugged her creamy white cardigan off, pulling it through the gym bag she had slung over her right shoulder as she walked around the corner from the front of the studio. She walked into the first room on the left, the largest of the studio’s four rooms.

  She pushed into the mirrored, marley floored room. Chris, who was one of her roommates and oldest friends was stretching along one of the ballet bars along the back of the room. They had grown up together in the studio and Chris had become a teacher after graduating high school. She now performed in one of the Cirque du Soleil shows on the Strip and taught early classes during the week and this class on Saturdays. She flashed Thea a smile as she grabbed
the stereo remote from the one-way mirror ledge behind the bar and turned down the pulsing pop music she had on.

  “Morning!” Chris’s cheery voice rang out. “You weren’t up when I left and I almost thought you weren’t coming.”

  “I woke up late,” Thea answered, walking up to the front of the classroom and dropping her bag and cardigan down in front of the long wall of mirrors. She was in a deep green leotard and black sweats over her tights beneath. She kicked her flip flops off and looked at her wild fiery hair in the mirror. She had done nothing with it before flying out the door in order to not be late. Somehow, she had still beaten the other students that were meant to be in the class.

  She gathered her thick, long hair into her hands and braided it back into a bun that she frequently did for class. It was messy this morning, but at least it was away from her face. Thea backed up and sat down, slowly stretching and warming up her muscles. Chris came to the front of the class just as three more students came in. With them, came Damien, a heartbreakingly handsome, but very gay man. He had joined their dance team for ballet during Thea’s junior year in high school and had stuck around. He danced in a slightly off-the-Strip show now, and he was one of her favorite people to be around.

  Damien hurried up to her side, flinging his black backpack to the front of the room and plopping down to her left. “Morning!” He chirped and started stretching. “How are you doing this morning?”

  She shrugged, “Eh. Woke up late. Had a week. I’m looking forward to class.” She noticed his eager expression in the mirror as she slid into her middle splits. “What about you?” she finally asked him back.