Intrigue (22 page)

I immediately jumped onto the Internet and started my searches. The first search I performed was for Hermes. I clicked the link with the narrative about Hermes, and there was a picture of a naked statue of Hermes showing his family jewels. Wow! Not something you expect to see directly after church. Wikipedia also confirmed that the god Hermes was indeed the Messenger of the Gods and Guide to the Underworld. It almost equated him to being a shape shifter with all his different roles and identities. My potential suitor also invented fire, which was quite the accomplishment. He was the son of Zeus (God of All Gods) and Maia (a demigod) and was born on Mount Cyllene in Arcadia. But the part that really got to me was that he was linked romantically to at least 23 different women. The main girl he hooked up with was Aphrodite--the flockin goddess of love and beauty!!

To put things in perspective, I checked on my namesake’s rap sheet before I got all worked up. I went to Calliope’s page. Well, at least in my picture, I’m not naked, but I was definitely homely with wavy brown hair, a small mouth, and big nose. Flock….Flock….Flock…..Calliope was also the daughter of Zeus, but her mother was Mnemosyne. So were Hermes and my namesake like half-sibling? Talk about
Ick
factor. I was definitely not that Calliope because Lethe was my dad not Zeus. But what’s with the coincidence of our mother’s having the same name? Apparently, my namesake had the hots for Ares, the God of War, and they had several sons. OMG, she also had son with Apollo and Oeagrus of Thrace. Flock ……. Flock…………Flock………….. Apparently, the only one she actually married was Thrace. Was my whole life planned out for me and I didn’t even realize it? This was actually worse than having one of those horrible beauty pageant moms that force those little girls into their “destiny.”

On the plus side, Calliope was the most powerful of the nine Muses. She was the muse for heroic poetry, which is why she was also shown carrying a roll of parchment or book. I slowly laid my head on my desk trying to absorb my research so far. Twenty-three flockin consorts—none of them my namesake. Thrace being Calliope’s only husband although not the only father of her children. What did this all mean or did it mean anything? Those were myths. Even though the gods exist, does not mean that their history was correct.
Right.

This was a lot to absorb, so it was break time. I wanted to work out and had several options on that front: 1) by myself—probably the healthiest option for all concerned; 2) Thrace—try to mend some fences, but slightly awkward considering I just broke up with him only to find out my namesake married him; 3) Rafe—also awkward considering what a player he was/is since he is the same god. Decisions….Decisions… I guess it’s not too early to start mending fences, especially with school tomorrow, so I took a shot and called Thrace. Unfortunately, there was no answer on his cell, and I didn’t want to call his home number.

To face Rafe or not to face Rafe, that was the question. Since I was not known for my cowardice, I decided to call him. Of course, he immediately picked up and asked, “Did you do your homework yet?”

“You know channeling my mom is not what I call hot. But to answer your question, yes, I did my Greek homework. Yes, we need to talk. Yes, I have a million questions. Why don’t we meet at the gym in 20 minutes?”

He calmly replied, “We’ll kill two birds with one stone. You can get your questions answered and take out some aggression on me.”

I managed to beat Rafe to the gym and headed to our karate room to make sure it was not occupied. Luckily it was deserted, so I started to nervously warm up. What did you say to a Greek god that you had recently been kissing, but you found out about his 23 other girlfriends before you? It was not like he cheated on me already. It just showed that fidelity was not his strongest character trait. As I was thinking about the best course of action, Rafe walked in and immediately gave me a hug. I took a deep breath and leaned against him. One of his hands stroked my hair as his other hand rested in the small of my back. I just continued to breathe in and out and let Rafe hold me.

“Are you done warming up?” Rafe asked quietly.

I told him I was, so he continued, “Why don’t we practice and talk at the same time.”

We started by practicing our kihon as I fired questions at him. “So the internet says that you had relationships with 23 different women. How accurate is that?”

Rafe actually unleashed his mesmerizing laugh that stopped me in mid move and literally caused him to bend over in his hilarity.

“Of all the mythical and momentous things you have researched, you are most interested in the fact that several millennium ago in a timeframe that stretched centuries, I was romantically linked with some women?”

“Not
some
women. At least 23 women--one of which is the flocking goddess of love and beauty, who might or might not be your sister!”

That brought another round of laughter and required me to further explain, “And by the way,
none
of the women you were linked with were my namesake!”

That finally brought home my point to him because his amused hazel eyes found my infuriated ones as he said, “Calliope, the past is the past. Whether it is prudent or not, my sole interest is in you, Siren.”

He walked over to me and put his hands on my cheeks as if to kiss me. Before I had a chance to ask another question he continued, “As much as history repeats itself, each time around different situations unfold in our life. And we
always
have free will to make our choices, no matter what the circumstances. I promise you.”

“So you don’t
have
to be a player even if one of your former ‘consorts’ shows up and tries to entice you?”

He laughed again and leaned down to kiss my forehead before wrapping his arms around me again, “Imagine if Brad Pitt was frozen at 21—same looks, same hormones. Then, you followed him for over 200 years. How many women do you think he would have dated? More or less than 23?”

“Ok. Probably more, but that doesn’t mean that if I actually dated him I wouldn’t worry about whether he was a player! Or wonder how long before another girl would capture his attention.”

“Calliope, I don’t know what the future holds, but I know that my attention going elsewhere is not something you are going to have to worry about. I am your Protector as long as you have need of me, Siren.” Then he kissed me softly on the cheek to accentuate his words.

Once my befuddled senses returned to me again, I asked my next question. “I saw the definition for Muse, and I know that the most powerful Muse was named Calliope. But what does this all mean? Am I just her namesake? Because we look nothing alike. Or am I her reincarnation? Or do you think I am her—I just don’t remember my previous lives because I am human? Or does this mean I am destined to be an immortal? Or is this one big coincidence?”

“Whoa….Barbara Walters. One question at a time. Muses are always human and stay human. Immortals cannot turn a Muse into one of them. Yes, I think you are a Muse. Your name, heritage, and lineage all mark you as one. Looks don’t matter. A Muse can look different with each reiteration. Are you the original Muse that inspired Homer and captivated two of the most powerful Olympians, Ares and Apollo? I think some of her lives through you, but
never
doubt that you have your own unique human soul that is separate from all this mysticism and mythology. Even though you were probably gifted with some of your namesake’s traits, your human soul is separate from all this and has the ability to make its own choices.”

I sighed and just let myself be held by him again. My freak-out instincts were starting again, and I didn’t know why he kept getting off on the tangent about my soul and making my own choices. “Muses were entertainers for the gods. How does that translate into how I fit into your world? What role do I play?”

Rafe thought about this for a moment before he answered. “You have taken the news of our existence very well, Calliope. Honestly, I am not sure how much to tell you and how soon. I don’t want to overwhelm you, and I don’t want my whole world to consume you. I want you to have as normal a life as possible.”

I thought back to the brief research I had done this morning and remembered just how his previous love life had sent me spinning. I stepped out of his arms and looked up into his worried eyes. “I know the potential freak out factor is huge in this situation. And I’m not saying I want to know every little detail about your world right now. But, I do want to know how I fit into the big picture. What is a Muse in your world?”

His worried expression turned even more concerned as he somberly admitted, “A Muse is a human that carries the soul of an Olympian within her.”

I sputtered as I took a step backward, “What!? Are you saying that I am carrying your soul? Is that why you are soooo interested in me?”

“Calli, I have been interested in you from the first day I met you. And not because you have my soul within you.”

I couldn’t believe how hurt I was right now. I couldn’t meet his eyes as I said; “I felt connected to you since the moment I first saw you. Is it because I am carrying your soul or is it totally my own feelings. How can I ever know—even if you say I have free will?”

Now Rafe really looked like he was in pain, and it was his turn not to meet my eyes as he gravely announced, “Calli, it’s probably not my soul you’re carrying.”

Ok. Now, it was freak out time! FLOCK….....FLOCK…………FLOCK! I literally didn’t know what to do. How did I get this strange panic and manic energy out of me? I felt like hitting something, screaming, running away, and crying all at once.

I immediately made the first move much like our first sparring match. He countered it perfectly, and I avoided his counter move. As we were circling, I asked, “So, is this mutant soul thing just going to explode out of me someday like in
Alien
?”

He laughed and I caught him off-guard momentarily with a sidekick. He swiftly avoided it and answered afterwards, “It doesn’t work like that. As the Muse, you hold the Olympians soul. You can tell what he is feeling and thinking when he accesses his soul in you.”

I moved in again with a roundhouse kick that he jammed and then he went on the offensive again. I couldn’t speak for several minutes because I needed to concentrate on my defense. After I avoided his last front kick, I circled as I asked, “How exactly does the Olympian get
access
to his soul? And can I block
access
?”

He sensed that I needed to go on the offense for a while again, so he merely blocked, jammed, and countered all the punches and kicks that I viciously threw at him. I was not quite in control right now. The thought that some complete stranger out of the pages of Greek mythology would have some mystical access to me made me crazy.

When I had worn myself out, I circled again and he finally warily replied, “Don’t worry, Calli. It’s not physical access. It’s the equivalent to Luke using the force.”

“I am not a fifteen year old boy, Rafe! I have no idea what the flock you’re talking about,” I snarked as I threw a hook at him which he easily blocked.

“It takes mental concentration on the Olympian’s part. He can access his soul from any distance although it tends to be stronger the closer his Muse is. For the Olympian, he feels whole. It gives him greater power and control. For the Muse, she can access his feelings and thoughts if she wants to, and it also gives her heightened senses, awareness, and strength. And you can block the Olympian’s thoughts and feelings, but you cannot block his access to his soul.”

Then he attacked again. I think he wanted to avoid my final question. After I avoided yet another one of his kicks, I finally got my question out, “So if you don’t think it’s your soul that I have within me despite our connection, whose soul is it?”

He looked pained as he admitted, “There are three Olympians within the Detroit area right now—myself, Apollo, and Ares.”

I stopped moving all together and audibly gasped at two of the names I had come across in my research of Calliope’s consorts. “Have you told them that you’ve met me?” I fiercely questioned him as I went on the attack again.

“No, Calliope, I did not
tell
them of your existence. But that does not mean that they will not find out or have not already done so.”

I relaxed for a second then tensed back up at his second confession. “How will they know if you don’t tell them?”

We circled again, though both of us were getting tired—one of the conversation, one of the battle. “There are two types of Muses: Night and Bright. Night Muses are the type of Muse where the Olympian’s soul has not been awakened in her. The soul does not awaken until after the woman has reached adulthood. You are a Night Muse. However, as the Night Muse becomes more mature, the Olympians become drawn to her--much like the Sirens in Greek mythology. They often finds the Muse long before the soul awakens. A Bright Muse is when her Olympian’s soul has been awakened, and their powers become amped up.”

I stopped again and this time I bowed to him ending our match. “I don’t think I can throw another kick or punch, so you better not tell me anything else disturbing.”

“I will try not to, Calli. I did warn you,” he agreed in an I-told-you-so manner.

I would need at least a hundred years to process this conversation. None of it seemed real to me. Other than the hussy throwing me like a rag doll, Thrace with bite marks, and Rafe’s jumping into window skills, it didn’t seem real to me. I walked to my bag, grabbed my towel and water while throwing a sarcastic remark over my shoulder, “Alright Mr. Olympian show me your powers again, if this is all real.”

Rafe picked me up then hurled me across the whole length of the room. He caught me inches before I crashed into the opposite wall and gently set me back down.