Omega (19 page)

I rolled onto the top and lay on my back,
staring at the sky briefly. The hippolectryon pecked at one of my
hands, and I moved it out of reach. Tired, I nonetheless was exited
to move on and shifted to my knees to peer at what lay at the
bottom of the wall on the other side.

A single, solitary house stood half a
kilometer from the foot of the wall. Otherwise, only darkness
existed. Not the kind of darkness that occurred when the sun set.
This was unnatural. Nothingness. I wasn’t certain what I expected
of a blessing from Mnemosyne but it wasn’t this. I readied myself
for the odd sensation of gravity changing and leaned carefully over
the side of the wall, waiting for the unsettling sensation to leave
my belly.

“
All right. We’re set,” I
said cheerfully and stood. “You ready?” I looked back.

The hippolectryon was gone.

“
I guess not.” I started
forward, down the side of the wall, not looking at the house for
fear of becoming disoriented once more. When I reached the bottom,
I knelt and placed my hands on the grass ahead of me.

“
Atlas, just one more –” I
toppled onto my face. “Gods dammit!” I muttered and sat up. “Thanks
anyway.” With a sigh, I looked around. Nothing else had appeared.
Just the house. I dropped the stakes and rope at the wall and
strode down a sidewalk towards the house. Nothingness ran on either
side. I peered over the edge of the sidewalk once then not again,
not about to wade into the void on either side.

Pausing in front of the two-story house, I
studied it. Was I supposed to know it? Because it wasn’t remotely
familiar. A small porch and several windows faced me. It seemed so
very normal, the kind of cookie cutter suburbia I imagined everyone
lived in, before learning the world was in a state of chaos brought
on by warring gods.

“
Mnemosyne?” I called. I
wasn’t expecting her to magically appear and wasn’t disappointed.
I’d never been blessed by a god or goddess. I knew less of the
protocol handling one of them than I did about the people who lived
outside my forest.

Uncertain if I was supposed to waltz in or
knock first, I decided to be polite and knocked. The door creaked
open under the force of my knock. I pushed it the rest of the way
open. Lights I couldn’t see from the outside glowed from the second
floor of the house. Stairs were ahead of me, a formal dining room
on one side of the foyer and a formal living room on the other
side. The hallway to the left of the stairwell led to a kitchen.
Nightlights positioned in outlets along the walls lit up the bottom
floor.

It was quiet, calm and … familiar. Not like
Adonis, who I felt I’d never met before, but familiar as if I had
been here before. As if I should know this place.

“
Hello?” I
called.

No one answered. I started up the stairs, to
the part of the house beckoning me to it with bright, cheerful
light. Three bedrooms, a study and bathroom. Thus far, everything
about this place screamed ordinary. The door to one bedroom was
wide open, and I went to it.

Stuffed animals and dolls were scattered on
the floor. A television with a pink remote control was at one side,
a twin bed with a purple canopy on the other. The dressers and
furniture were bright white, the curtains overlooking the space
behind the house pink and green. Purple, heart-shaped rugs were on
the floor.

I smiled, liking the bright, happy colors of
the room. Beside the TV remote, in front of a blanket that appeared
to have been wrapped around a small form before being pushed off,
were a shoebox and a scrapbook. I knelt beside the scrapbook,
curious to see the child who lived here.

Flipping open the cover, I was surprised at
the title page.

The Oracle of Delphi

I turned the page. The scrapbook was filled
with articles cut out of newspapers and printed from online sources
about the current Oracle of Delphi. Pictures, news reports, tabloid
covers. Nothing about the book was personal to its owner at
all.

“
Someone’s obsessed with
the Oracle,” I said and closed it. The shoebox beside it was empty,
and I stood, puzzled as to what I was supposed to do
next.

I started towards the door, wondering if I’d
find more in the next room over, when I tripped over something
hidden in the blanket at my feet.

“
Hey. I know you.” I bent
and retrieved the stuffed koala bear I’d first seen with Adonis. It
appeared almost new, and it was … rumbling. My fingertips vibrated
with the strange sensation. “Some kind of talking toy?”

Mrs. Nettles.

The voice from Adonis’ bedroom.

“
Uh. You’re not talking to
me are you?” I asked, holding it away from my body.

Mrs. Nettles.

I dropped it then gasped. “Oh, gods, I’m so
sorry.” I picked it up and gazed at it. “Are you hurt?” My face
turned hot at the idea of talking to a toy.

The stuffed animal
blinked. It
blinked.

This time when I dropped it, I leapt back.
“The flying horse-chicken was a little weird. But this …”

The koala climbed to its feet. I had the
sudden flashback to a horror movie I once watched where a doll came
to life and slaughtered people.

Mnemosyne sent
Mrs. Nettles to guide you.

“
What does that mean?” I
demanded of the quiet world around me. “What is a Mrs.
Nettles?”

The koala pointed to itself then began to
stroke one of its ears.

“
You’re … you’re Mrs.
Nettles.”

It nodded.

“
Oh.” If this world
weren’t surreal, I might short out. I decided to accept a walking,
talking teddy bear as I did the wall. “Okay, Mrs. Nettles. I’m
trying to figure out what Mnemosyne wants me to do
here.”

Mrs. Nettles extended her arm in my general
direction.

“
I’m not sure what that
means.”

It did it again.

Not getting whatever she wanted me to know,
I knelt and cautiously drew nearer to her. “Do you know
Adonis?”

Mrs. Nettles nodded and waddled towards me.
She paused at my knees and then shifted forward to try to grasp the
red cord around my wrist between her two chubby paws.

“
You, uh, want me to take
it off?”

It nodded.

“
You know what happens if
I do?”

Another nod.

I’m in some weird world
where toys can talk. Why not?
I tugged the
red cord off and braced myself to hear the shattering of
glass.

Immediately, the world around me erupted
into activity and color. Thin, shifting ribbons twisted and twirled
around every single object in the room. I’d seen them before, and I
racked my brain to figure out where.

The lake. In the water, I had witnessed
smoky, faded ribbons like these twisting in the depths.

“
What are they?” I asked,
stunned by the life in the room filled with inanimate objects. The
toys on the bed had two ribbons each, one blue and one yellow,
though the exact hue and widths were unique around each toy. Mrs.
Nettles, however, had three – blue, yellow, and faded
green.

Mrs. Nettles had no answer.

Mesmerized by the colors and movement, I let
my gaze roam over everything in the room. Even the television had
two ribbons. I looked up towards the ceiling to see if I had any
floating above my head. If I did, they were invisible.

Rustling came from the direction of the
window. I blinked out of my amazed stupor to find Mrs. Nettles had
moved. She was beneath the window, staring up at it, unable to
reach the pane or see out of it.

“
Don’t tell me you fly,” I
said with a half laugh and rose. I crossed to the window and
froze.

The nothingness had retreated. The house had
a backyard, complete with a picket fence, tree house and a sandbox.
Toys were scattered across the yard, and if I leaned out the
window, I’d see a small herb garden beneath the kitchen window,
next to a …

How do I know that?
I didn’t recall ever seeing Mrs. Nettles or the
house or the backyard before. Why was I certain of the herb
garden?

I was starting to remember.

“
Mrs. Nettles! Can you
find him?”

I whirled. A little girl around the age of
six bolted into the room, faded and transparent, a ghost in every
aspect. She was trailed by the ghostly version of Mrs. Nettles.
They searched for someone or something before she crossed to the
dresser and opened the bottom drawer. She pulled out a brilliant
blue-green gem that glowed unnaturally before she hurried out the
door.

My heart was starting to pound harder, and
my instincts tingled. I touched the teal gem beneath my t-shirt and
tugged it out. It was identical to the little girl’s.

My Mrs. Nettles was waddling towards the
door.

I followed her and reached the door in time
to see the spectral girl race down the stairs. Sweeping Mrs.
Nettles up, I hurried down the stairs, following her. She darted
out the back door and towards the tree in the corner of the
backyard. I watched her climb the ladder on the trunk to reach the
tree house then disappear inside.

The sounds of men shouting from behind us
made me reach for my knife. I slunk through the house to the front
door just as it burst open, and I was overrun by men in black
uniforms.

I cried out, startled, and stumbled back,
slashing at the figures.

But these were ghosts, like the girl. After
the brief heart attack, I realized they couldn’t see or hear me at
all and grew braver. I walked out front to see the world had grown
once more. The house was one of many identical ones lining a street
in the suburbs. The men originated from one of five black vans.
Several were huddled around one van. I was about to go inside to
see what happened to the little girl when I caught a flash of red
in the moonlight.

I’d recognize Herakles’ hair and size
anywhere. I started towards him, wondering if he could see me. My
step slowed as I waded through the spectral figures around him.
This Herakles I’d only seen in old pictures.

Gorgeous, handsome, bearing none of the
scars he did now, Herakles was twenty three, at the peak of his
physical shape, dressed in black fatigues like the other men and
issuing orders from the iPad in his hands.

“
No parents!” someone
cried from the door of the house.

“
They’re already dead,”
Herakles said without looking up. “Saw to it yesterday, after they
revealed her location.”

My breath caught.
This isn’t my Herakles.
I’d never heard that tone or seen that expression on his
face. I didn’t like either. My Herakles was a gentle athlete, not …
this.

“
We’ve got her! She’s
trapped in her tree house,” a soldier said, hurrying towards them.
“This way.”

“
Thank the gods. I’ll be
glad to get this over with,” Herakles said.

“
Quite a change from being
the People’s Champion,” another man said beside him.

“
Yeah. Master’s
orders.”

Master? I didn’t want to see what happened
next. My Herakles didn’t deserve to have his honor and goodness
besmirched by this bizarre place. As far as I knew, he never had a
master, unless he was talking about the benefactor who sponsored
him at the Olympics.

“
What in Olympus is that?”
someone gasped.

They all looked up, and I did as well. A
creature I never knew existed before last week soared overhead, its
grey body blending in with the partially cloudy sky. Eyes glowed
teal, and he passed with the threat, silence and intensity of a
thunderhead.

Grotesque.
My heart quickened once more. The creature was
headed towards the backyard. I watched it, unable to explain how my
whole body seemed to come alive when I saw him. My heartbeat turned
erratic and blood roared in my ears almost too loudly for me to
hear. I was fevered, thrilled yet scared, curious and dreading all
at once.

I raced through the house to the backyard,
wishing I could warn the little girl it was coming, and stopped
cold.

The grotesque was tearing into Herakles’
men. His tail, fangs and claws shredded anyone that came near. I
watched, somewhat disgusted, and uncertain whose side anyone was
on. His agility, his feline speed and strength, were somehow …
familiar.

The four men were soon in pieces, torn limb
from limb. The grotesque straightened and looked around, tail
tapping the tree, before he lifted into the air effortlessly. He
went to the opening of the tree house, and my breath caught.

I hurried forward instinctively. “Don’t hurt
her!” I cried at the ghost that couldn’t see me.

To my surprise, the girl emerged cautiously
from the house and smiled at the grotesque. It wrapped her in one
arm and picked up Mrs. Nettles as well. She laughed as the creature
lifted her into the air over her house. The monster wobbled in
midair, as if unaccustomed to carrying others.

Herakles and two others raced around the
side of the house. The men with him fired their weapons at the
grotesque, which hovered closer to the rooftop. If he were hit by a
bullet, he didn’t show it.

“
We need something
bigger!” one of the attackers called.

The grotesque began to rise straight up into
the sky.

“
I got this.” Without any
sign of strain at all, Herakles wrenched a picket free from the
fence, positioned himself as if throwing a javelin, and launched it
straight up.