by Laura Wylde
“Extra terrestrials and ancient gods are not the same thing.” Barnaby’s smoke rings blew contemplatively to the ceiling in ever more complicated designs. First, two hearts, then a pair of lips followed by a running man. He was really quite good at it. Sometimes, I envied his ability. I could make a few cool water shapes but nothing like what Barnaby could do with smoke rings. “And we aren’t extra terrestrial either. We were put here, same as you.”
“Yes, apparently,” she agreed. “If we are to treat mythology as the truth.” She noticed our simultaneous looks of disapproval. “And we should treat it as the truth,” she added hastily. “Obviously.”
Heath wasn’t satisfied. “And your mother? What was she like?”
“She also likes to go caving, but it’s a hobby. By profession, she’s a dance instructor who also teaches the martial arts. I get my agility from my mother. It’s an inherited trait. The women are born with double joints. I can draw both legs up around my shoulders and lock my ankles at the back of my neck. Do you want to see?”
Before any of us could answer, she drew up both legs and locked them behind her. It wasn’t the sexiest position I had seen her in, but it was fascinating. I returned to the bed and sat next to her. “You’re a contortionist.”
She made a face and unlocked her ankles. “No,” she pouted. “I’m not a circus freak. I have a double joint in my arm sockets, my wrists and my hips. It allows me to get into some interesting places.”
I inhaled her scent. Oh! That orange blossom smell. “Anything else we should know?”
“Let’s see.” She settled into a cross-legged position with her hands in her lap. “I’m a marathon runner. I can play the piano. And I’m very good at archery.”
The little Eureka sign flashed over my thoughts. “Like Artemis! Maybe you inherited her bloodline.”
She gave a deep, very mature, very sexy laugh. “I’m no goddess, believe me. I’m one hundred percent human.”
I continued staring into those unfathomably blue eyes. “Sure, the descendants would be watered down over the centuries until they are all human. Hyperion doesn’t see it yet, and when he does, he won’t care. He wants his revenge on Zeus.”
“Where does Artemis fit in all this?”
“She’s Hyperion’s granddaughter. Her father is Zeus, but he tricked Artemis’ mother, Leto, into having sex with him. Leto was a Titan and angry at what Zeus had done, so she hid away to give birth to Artemis and Apollo, keeping their lives secret during the wars between the Titans and Zeus.”
I paused to release a little more steam, excused myself and continued. “The twins are hunters. Nobody can rival them. They live in the house of Zeus, but their spirits are independent. They don’t side with any of the gods, but they are very fond of humans. Artemis is supposed to have been virginal during the time period they walked on earth, but Apollo… he got around.”
“We could do a DNA test,” offered Heath. “My lab can detect as little as two percent God code.”
“Less than that is too negligible,” explained Barnaby, shrugging. “It means no special endowments apart from purely human qualities. Two percent or better, though… that’s where you get geniuses like Beethoven and Einstein.”
“You’re not taking my DNA!” She said stubbornly. “I don’t want to trace my ancestors to their creator. Thank you, but no. I’d rather believe I’m a highly evolved homo sapiens.”
“You already gave us your DNA,” said Barnaby with his dry practicality. “It’s all over the place.”
She threw a sort of mini tantrum, clutching a pillow to her stomach and thrashing her legs. “What difference would it make?”
I made her look at me. It was the first time I had seen her behave like a child and it was at a time she should behave the most like an adult. “A lot. It could make a lot. It would tell us how strong a hold you have over Hyperion.”
“Apollo, eh?” She chuckled, then shrugged her shoulders carelessly. “Why not? Go for it.”
Health got his kit and gleefully took a sample of Irene’s DNA. “It will take about four days to get the results. These tests are tedious,” he apologized. “Hopefully, we’ll get them back before we meet again with Hyperion.”
Heath
I didn’t sleep well that night. I was suspicious of every wild animal sound. I woke with every creak and groan of the building. I could feel the nebulous god invading my dreams. “Cave dragon, creature of Gaia, why do you assist these humans? You’re not one of them. Your place is in a cave deep in the earth, guarding the treasures of the ancients. Go back where you belong, and all the treasures of the world are at your disposal.”
I struggled awake, still feeling his intangible presence. The sun was barely above the horizon. The rest looked like they had also spent a restless night. Their bags were packed, but their clothes were disheveled, and their faces numb and rubbery. “Aren’t we all bright-eyed and rosy cheeked this morning?” Asked Orson, assuming his dragon form.
“Navigator just fly us in the right direction,” said Damian, speaking for all of us. “Spare the pep talk.”
Irene climbed up on my back and clenched her arms and legs around my neck. He was on one. I’ll bet he ate a sea urchin for breakfast. Those venomous spines may be lethal to others, but to a water dragon, they are like junking out on speed. He shot into the air, did a giant loop and flew out toward the ocean. “Hasta la vista! Geronimo! May the force be with you.”
I crouched and unfolded my wings as I searched for a strong updraft. I caught one. Stretching out my neck, I sprang forward, the lift of air bowing under my wingspread, propelling me higher. I reached for the heights Orson gained so effortlessly, my giant wingspan casting shadows on the ground. Barnaby flashed by me in a streak of flaming colors, with Damian close behind. I was heavier bodied than they were but what I lacked in speed, I made up for in endurance. I could circle the globe three times before tiring.
Orson was leading us west. We traveled along the edge of the coast, watching the population centers grow smaller, the towns further apart. There were early morning fishermen. They were accustomed to strange sightings. They only looked up once, their hands shading their brows, then went back to work on their nets.
The brush grew stragglier, the beach rockier. Orson made a turn in the air and began his descent. The rest of us followed in a uniform line, dipping toward the ocean and wheeling among the seagulls looking for scraps along the shore.
The attack seemed to come from out of nowhere. We were circling, ready to touch down on dry land when we were met with a swarm of blue-green locusts. They swirled around us, blinding us. Orson veered toward the ocean to avoid them, but they kept coming, flying into our eyes, beating against our wings. Together, Orson and Barnaby drew in their collective breath and released it simultaneously. A spray of water and fire mixed together, creating a scalding steam.
The locusts buzzed in confusion, then congealed together in a powdery giant eagle. The eagle streamed toward me, talons out, beak open, its eyes small and cunning. I heard its rumbling voice. “Go home, cave dragon. I have no quarrel with you.” The beak was coming closer. I drew back with one wing stiffly and swung at him.
Like a baseball bat hitting a ball, he sailed backwards a good hundred feet, the dusty particles of his semi-solid form following him. “Cave dragon!” He roared, drawing up to a full god-like height of sparkling talcum powder. “I gave you a chance!”
The glittering powder began to swirl – slowly at first and then faster and faster. He was creating a whirlwind. Desperately, I tried to dive below the cyclonic force and battle from ground, but the wind picked me up, sending me spinning through the air with no sense of direction. I felt Irene’s tight hold, her head pressed so close, her lips pressed against my ear. The earth and sky became the same as vertigo overcame me. I heard her whisper, “Heath, stay with me.” Odd as this may sound, she was guiding me. I saw the horizon slowly right itself again. With the sky overhead and the ocean below. With Barnaby still reeling
, Damian flapping about drunkenly and Orson taking a swan dive into the water. It was the quickest way for Orson to orient himself.
As suddenly as the god came, he disappeared. We were still in the air, spinning dizzily, but at least it was our wings keeping us floating. I reached the beach landed heavily on all fours, my knees buckling under me. Give me a cave any day to this wide -open air. “I think I’m going to be sick,” I said. I coughed, and a sprout clinging to a small lump of earth fell out. “Dragon’s breath!” I said, secretly pleased with myself. “I haven’t hatched that in a long time.”
Once Irene had slid from my back, I changed back into human form. Digging around in my forensics bag, I found a small container to protect my plant and placed in delicately inside.
Irene watched curiously. “You cough up pepper plants?”
I patted my forensics bag as I strapped it over my shoulder. “This is not a pepper plant. Oh no. When it matures, it develops these little red berries. These berries can be useful for many things – healing wounds, paralyzing your enemy, psychic visions – depending on how they are prepared.”
“And they can get you drunker than shit,” added Damian. He slapped my shoulder. “What do we gotta do to make you cough it up more often? Attack locusts in Africa? Irene, the last time we used dragon’s breath, we spent five days romping with the wood nymphs. Another AMP team had to come and get us.”
“Yeah, they were pissed,” I recalled. “We’ll use the berries responsibly this time.”
“You should turn the plant over to the Director,” said Barnaby. “You know they always need dragon’s breath.”
“The hell I will!” I picked up the rest of my stuff. “I can cook my own berries. I know what I’m doing.”
Irene was putting her gear together thoughtfully. “Heath, during the whirlwind, I know I was falling. I was dizzy and confused and I let go of your neck. I remember I began to fall. Then I felt someone… that thing…that god, pick me up and put me back and he said again, ‘I’m sorry, Artemis.’ He could have killed us, and he didn’t.”
“It’s not us he’s after.” Barnaby had switched back into human form and was searching all his pockets and all his little bags and compartments frantically. “Fuck! Mangy, inbred wanker! He did it now. He did it.” He fumed some more, checking his pockets a second time just to be sure. “He got the carvings. He shook us out like gunny sacks and got the carvings.”
“He frisked us,” sulked Damian.
He did. The question was, what to do now? It was becoming obvious we needed someone on our side who knew how to fight Titans. I didn’t have any good contacts in that area - just fairies and elves. Fairies were unreliable. Elves kept their magic to themselves. Damian knew a few centaurs, which wasn’t saying a lot and Barnaby had the ears of AMP. That left Orson. “You’ve got to do it,” I told him sadly. “You’ve got to talk with Triton.”
I felt bad for him. Even though Orson was an aristocrat among his own kind, Triton belonged to a different species – a species that was directly related to the line of Neptune. They were demi-gods, the upper crust of underwater society. The elite. They lived in an underwater palace larger and more elaborate than the Taj Mahal. Dragons are occasionally invited to their functions, although most of us can’t stay underwater very long without breathing masks - except water dragons.
Getting there was also a trick, especially when swimming in from Crete. He would have to pass through the siren settlement. Sirens don’t have the same effect on dragons as they do on humans, but it doesn’t keep them from crowding around like barracudas, groping at body parts and rubbing their breasts in our faces.
Getting by them, however, was a lot easier than getting by sea nymphs. Those underwater ladies don’t know when to stop. I had one follow me for five miles one time, humping me the whole time I was staggering back to shore.
Running into sea serpents is the only real pleasure. It’s like a hunting sport. Most sea serpents hid when they heard a dragon coming, so coming up on one in the course of doing business was rare.
Orson turned his bags over to us and padded sadly down to the ocean front. He waded into the surf, letting the waves curve over him until he was waist deep, then dived in. When he re-emerged, he was a silvery-blue dragon. He dived again. We watched long after there was any trace of his passage, all of us feeling a bit glum and a bit guilty. We had pushed him into this, but what else could we do?
We settled into the new ranch house while we waited for Orson’s return. It wasn’t a hiding place anymore although it was a good location for battling unearthly forces. The house was large and completely secluded. There were plenty of options for entertainment – Wi-Fi, satellite television, games, exercise equipment, a swimming pool, even riding stables, with a single caretaker minding the horses. Still, the hours ticked by intolerably as day turned into evening and evening into morning.
Finally, we saw him swimming up to the bank, his scales silvery in the sunlight. He collapsed on the beach. “Nymphs. All the way up to the shoals. I thought I would never get rid of them.”
We gave him time to collect himself and change back into human form. His clothes were completely tattered, as though they had been ripped apart. “You didn’t take human form underwater, did you?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Only for the reception. Triton likes it that way. He prefers to talk to a human face. I forgot how aggressive mermaids can be.”
“Shameless little hussies,” said Irene.
“Indeed,” he agreed. “But they will help us. They told us how to beat Hyperion.”
Barnaby
I don’t know why it’s always about poor Orson. Orson must fight his way through lascivious, underwater females and visit the prince of the ocean in his subterranean castle. Such a terrible ordeal for Orson. Women rip off his clothes. Women faint over him. Wait. That’s Damian. Damian flipped his collar and women fell over in a stupor. Even Heath is a magnet with his rugged, outdoorsman look. Me? I’m just a red-headed nerd. I was surprised when Irene came on to me. I wonder sometimes, if it was a pity-fuck, but she doesn’t really seem to be that kind of girl. I think it would take a lot to move her to pity.
Poor Orson was driving my patience to the limit. He insisted on coming inside and eating a hearty meal in front of the television and watching two British detective movies in a row. “We’re waiting,” I reminded him.
“I’m waiting for the DNA results,” he answered.
It was insanity. He talked Irene into playing the piano, keeping time by nodding his head to the notes. She was good, no doubt about it, as good as she was of gobsmacking us with her martial arts skills. I suppose it was a good way of passing the time while waiting for the results of the DNA tests, but I’m not very keen on her choice of music. She didn’t play jazz, blues or rock and roll. She played classical, something only Orson, and apparently bonehead Heath were interested in. Heath stood by the piano and listened intently to every second of piano tinkling
We had sex, lots of sex. We took off our clothes and dived in the pool. We found new, inventive ways to play Marco Polo, blindfolding Irene and swimming away from her, only to approach one at a time, nuzzling her neck, kissing her cherry mouth, circling her breasts, slipping between her legs, stroking her little pussy.
I crept up behind her. She was stumbling forward, both arms outstretched as she tried to find the culprit who kept swimming up and pinching her nipples, and I did a quiet frog swim through the water until her perfect, round butt was directly in my face. I held it in both hands, licking at the crease between her legs until they spread farther and farther apart, inviting me in. I dove between them and came up to meet her blindfolded face, pressing my lips tightly against hers, my cock ramming in and out of her joy box. I came in a rumble of smoke and fire.
We spent the rest of our time eating junk food, watching horror flicks and sleeping together on the living room floor. I began to fume about having to wait for the results of the DNA test before taking any more steps.
He sprayed me with enough water to make my ears stop smoking. “We can take all the steps we want. But not of our steps will get us Triton’s help without the DNA test. He will only help us if we do exactly as he asks.”
“What about the six brothers?”
Orson sighed. “There’s only one way to kill the brothers. And that’s by someone with god blood.”
That was a sobering thought. There aren’t a lot of people with enough god blood to detect its presence. That’s why the tests take so long. It’s necessary to examine and measure the strands at the subatomic level - a very expensive procedure. A random test would produce approximately one person out of seventeen with identifiable traces of god blood. The gods were attracted to humans, but only the best -looking ones. As enhanced as they were, it took a while for these part-god, part-humans to dilute into the general population. A lot of the general population doesn’t have a single drop of god blood.
So I waited, played their games and ate shameless amounts of junk food. One day managed to blend in to the next, with AMP buzzing me off the hook, wondering when we were going to hit active mode. I explained to them Triton’s conditions. The Director took fifteen minutes to respond. “I understand,” he texted. We always text because of the Director’s paranoia over phone calls. “Let us know results immediately.”
A couple days later, we were sitting down to breakfast, just starting to settle into this new lifestyle of loafing around a deserted beach, when Heath trudged in with his test results and shouted, “bingo.”
He grabbed a half-dozen pancakes from the pile in the middle of the table and poured a cup of coffee, sipping at the fresh brew with relish. I waited for him to elaborate but of course, he waited for me to pry it out of him. “Bingo?”
Instead of answering me, his eyes shifted to Irene’s. “Congratulations. You are ninety-six percent human, four percent Titan.”
