Muse Unexpected (3 page)

“Clever girl. You are a very clever girl.” With one blurred motion, Athena reached behind her and removed the sword from where it stood and threw the brooch into the air. As it fell back toward her, she swung her sword, shattering it, the sparkling pieces shooting all over the room.

Georgia
stopped herself from protesting the destruction of Yiayia's broach as she noticed the roots gripping the Muses’ statues begin to unfurl and retract. Athena walked to the closest statue and struck it at its base with her sword. The resulting crack worked its way to the top of the statue; the marble façade shattered and a woman in a flowing white gown flew out of the debris. The Muse surged into the air, arching her back and stretching her arms as if she had just woken from a nap. She fell backward at a ferocious speed, stopping a few inches from the ground, and placed her feet gently on the floor.

One by one, Muses emerged from their sleep, shattering their marble prisons and soaring into the air as if they had been shot out of a cannon, the space above Athena and Georgia looking like the billowing sails of an armada as each Muse joined the group gathering behind the goddess. Yiayia’s jeweled pin reappeared with a crack of lightning and clattered into the tiled pit. Georgia rushed to retrieve it, holding it close to her heart.

Athena turned her back on Georgia and spoke with her fellow Olympians. The old book, which had been forgotten, shook violently and slid across the floor, stopping at Georgia’s feet. It slammed itself open, hitting the ground with a loud thud and Georgia glanced down to see the words and diagrams begin to melt and swim on the page. The ink raised itself off the page, collecting into a large pool mid-air. It surged towards Georgia and she gasped as it took the form of a woman, wearing a heavy black gown and a long, flowing black veil. Both the gown and veil appeared to have no end. The stranger did not acknowledge either Georgia or the goddesses, but walked toward the tiled pit, where she chanted, swaying side to side, raising her arms towards the heavens. The room grew brighter and Athena and the Muses ceased their conversation to watch with apparent anticipation. One of the Muses whispered the name “Aletheria” and another murmured “the Oracle.” Georgia wondered where she had heard those names before.

Aletheria made a horizontal movement with her hand and the ashes and remaining debris in the pit flew across the room and rested at the base of a column. She threw into the pit several pieces of what appeared to be small rocks and the pieces rose from the floor, assembling midair in the pattern in which they had landed. Georgia crossed herself, fearing the woman might be evil. But then she remembered Aletheria was an Oracle, a powerful witch, someone Yiayia's oldest stories had mentioned – a magic rooted in her own family tree.

But
that was centuries ago. Aletheria, how could you possibly be here? I guess anything is possible in this temple.

Aletheria spoke, her English heavily accented, her voice deep and threatening.

“How dare you. How dare you begin this journey. You have drawn me back to my former prison. For what? To witness your foolish actions that could lead to the destruction of this world? You have disturbed and defiled this temple and awakened Athena and The Nine Daughters of Zeus by breaking through the veil separating the Olympians from this world. Do you know what risk you have taken? By calling them forth, you have risked setting others free. Others that were locked away for the sake of humankind.”

Georgia
stood seething, her face flushed with heat.

“You have corrupted the thread the Fates had for you, and now you have two paths to select from. This path is a curse never meant for my descendants. It will lead to great peril for your soul. There are others meant to carry this burden, and yet you come rushing forward to embrace it. My foolish child, my dearest foolish child, do you understand what you are asking from these Olympians?”

Georgia
walked a little closer to Aletheria. “Yes, I do,” she said.

The woman pointed at the girl, which sent the masonry pieces flying towards her. They hung in the air inches away. Georgia could see the pieces were polished stone etched with ancient Greek letters. As Aletheria walked toward Georgia, they orbited around the girl.

Aletheria opened her hand and the tiles stopped and fell into her palm. The Oracle glanced at them and shook her head, “Do you not see Athena is using you to enforce her will onto this world? Her actions are as selfish as your own. You see this choice, this path as a way to escape to something better. But it also is much more dangerous than your young mind can comprehend. You
must
understand. You must have the clarity to see this decision will change your life and the lives of your descendants.”

Aletheria bent her head towards Georgia and let out an exasperated sigh. Again she threw the stones into the air to encircle Georgia. She repeated this seven times, faster and faster, until she pointed downward, making the stones fall to the ground in front of the girl.

“The casting stones do not lie. I see two choices. One choice is filled with happiness, love and family. It is a long and prosperous life.” Aletheria crouched down to examine the tiles.

“I also see another choice, full of moments of incredible glory and excitement that are overshadowed by a journey filled with great sorrow, regret and risk. I look into your eyes and see the temptation and hunger growing inside of you. You will risk everything to satisfy this hunger for power and glory. Do not do this.”

Georgia
looked at Aletheria and shook her head. “I know who you are and I have heard your warnings, but no matter how powerful you are, I have free will and claim this as my destiny. Fate has placed me here. I will not be denied. Like so many others, you would have me grovel for whatever crumbs this miserable life would give to me. I refuse to live like my mother, made bitter by a husband who abandoned his family for another woman. I refuse to end my life as an old woman in a crumbling villa, in an old, black dress, with a face lined with many years of starvation and worry. You are a fool to think I would accept this, Aletheria. Now, go away.”

Aletheria grabbed Georgia’s arm, her touch strong and cold as her nails dug into Georgia’s flesh.

“Georgia, you are damned by your own greed. One day, you will remember my warning and wish you had listened,” the Oracle said, as the hand holding onto Georgia transformed into blacken ash. “Remember my words and understand that those you love will come to curse your name.”

Horrified, Georgia tried to yank her arm free as she watched Aletheria’s face collapsing into itself, exposing her skull underneath. The witch was disintegrating before her eyes. Georgia scrambled away from what remained of the Oracle.

The trees and jasmine vines swayed, as the room dimmed again. The nine women faced Georgia with hands joined, as a strong wind swept across the sanctuary. The wind gathered Aletheria’s ashes and bones into the air and held the debris suspended, creating out of them a ceiling of dark clouds that cracked with lightning and thunder.

Georgia
backed away as the nine women glided toward her, their gowns creating a billowing white cloud behind them. The storm grew stronger and lightning bolts struck throughout the room. Athena stood among them, smirked, then raised her arms and disappeared into an explosion of light.

The Muses, whose feet still did not touch the floor, surrounded Georgia. She was terrified. Some of the women chanted, others sang, as their voices joined into a single wall of sound. Their bodies floated around her.

“I’m ready,” Georgia shouted above the roar of the wind.

The Muses circled faster and faster, seeming to merge into a single, blurry form. A Muse crowned with a wreath of grapevines broke away and moved closer.

In ancient Greek the Muse said, “Forgive me.”

Before Georgia had time to ask what she needed to be forgiven for, the first of nine lightning bolts struck her.

Columbus
, Ohio
— Present Day

Callie could hear the buzz, buzz, buzz of her daughter’s alarm clock through the bedroom wall. It had been going off for the past ten minutes. She assumed Sophie was too lazy to reach over and hit the snooze button.

Dear God
.
How does Sophie use that annoying alarm rhythm to lull herself back to sleep? Would it be too much to ask her to wake up and get ready for school without me having to pound on her door?

She sat up and glanced over at the temporary husband she’d made out of pillows.

“How I hate it when you travel,” Callie mumbled to her pillow husband, as she climbed out of bed and ran fingers through her hair. It was time to shatter her daughter’s dreams of another fifteen minutes of sleep.

She hoped the sound of her footsteps, the flip flop of her slippers muffled by the ancient gold shag carpeting, would serve as warning enough for Sophie.

“Sophie?”She knocked gently on the bedroom door. “It’s time to get up, sweetie.”

She leaned her sleepy head against the door.

“Honey, I don’t hear you getting up.”

Callie was more tired than she’d realized. Her Greek accent was heavier, a clear sign of exhaustion. She never slept well when Angelo was away.

Coffee. Momma needs her medicine
. She heard Sophie groan and turn over in her bed.

“Turning over is not the kind of movement I’m talking about.” She sighed.

Another game of morning chicken, Sophie? Lord, give me strength.

“Sophia Maria! Up! Now!”

“I’m up. I’m practically out the door,” Sophie shouted. The sound of a stuffed animal hitting the opposite side of the bedroom door was a clear sign Sophie was serious.

“That’s better,” Callie said, yawning again and making her way downstairs to the kitchen. As she began making her morning pot of Greek coffee, she thought of the argument she'd had last night with Sophie. On a scale of one to ten, the argument had been a fifteen. Sophie had managed to push the right buttons, which meant she was putting herself down—and that was something Callie couldn’t tolerate. Hearing her daughter proclaim she was built like a stereotypical, heavy-set Greek waitress and then ask Callie if she wanted fries with her Gyro was enough to send her blood boiling. If only she could give Sophie a little push, a dash of inspiration, but using her powers wasn’t allowed.
Wasn’t inspiring others what Muses were expected to do?

She wondered for the millionth time what the point was of possessing supernatural powers at her fingertips, if she wasn’t able to use them.

But she knew the answer to her question. It was the deal she'd made. She was no longer a supernatural being in charge of inspiring mortals to reach their true potential and keeping them on the path Fate had meant them to be on. She had, in small quantities, used her powers, but not for herself or for Sophie. One of her talents was cooking and through her cooking she could change the course of a person’s life. So when asked by the PTA to help raise funds through a silent auction, by offering to cook a meal for 10, not including the cost of food, she couldn’t resist the opportunity. Sure, maybe she was showing off, but weren’t the gods themselves guilty of letting their egos get the best of them? Sometimes she couldn't help it, and the $5,600 she'd raised purchased a lot of band uniforms. She was sure the ends justified the means.
A small, brief flicker surely couldn’t attract anyone’s attention
.

“Besides, a leopard never changes its spots, especially this leopard.”

She heard Sophie walk into the kitchen and turned as the girl threw her things down into a vacant chair. Her daughter walked across the avocado and gold linoleum, opened the dark brown 1970’s ‘sun tan’ refrigerator and pulled out the gallon of milk.

Pouring a cup of Greek coffee for herself, Callie grabbed the box of corn flakes and sat down next to Sophie.

“Your father will be back tonight. Plan on being home for dinner.”

“Okay,” Sophie replied, pouring milk over her cereal.

“Wow.” She paused, mid-sip of her coffee. “No, ‘do I have to?’ No, ‘but Bippy or Buffy is having a barbecue?’ Not even a ‘but it’s a Friday, Mom.’”

“All right, I get it. Really subtle, Mom,” Sophie said, stopping mid-bite and looking up. “There is a party, but I think I would prefer being home when Daddy gets here. This last trip has lasted way too long. I’ve missed him and, to be honest, I can’t deal with the living hell you would make my life if I wasn’t here.”

Callie smiled, brushing off a few imaginary crumbs off the table. “And who says you can’t teach a teenager new tricks? Well, I’ve missed him, too. I hate it when he travels. I can’t protect…”

Sophie laughed. “Yeah, like your spaghetti sauce creates an impenetrable force field. Which is nothing compared to your exploding—”

“Stuffed grape leaves?” she said, throwing a napkin at Sophie.

She reached out to give her daughter's hand a squeeze, and Sophie slid her hand away.

Oops.
Mustn’t get too close to the teenager. Keep all hands and feet inside during the ride.

“Stop being a drama queen,” Sophie said. “You make everything out to be some sort of Greek tragedy. Ohhhhhhhhh, the gods are angry at us. Booooooooooo.”

Callie's smile dropped and Sophie winced.

“How many times must I tell you we don’t joke about such things? Whether or not you believe in something doesn’t mean it is open season on another person’s belief systems. It isn’t a smart thing to do, to mock Fate.” She lifted her hand and pointed at her daughter. “The Fates…”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Oh my, the Fates? The three old hags with one eye, stirring a caldron? Jesus, Mom, enough. Give it a rest. You’re such a freak sometimes.”

“That’s
Clash of the Titans
and all I’m saying is that it isn’t right to make fun of things you don’t understand and even if you don’t embrace it, it is still part of your heritage.”

Sophie placed her spoon down and crossed her arms in front of her.

“Honey, I’m sorry," Callie said. “I guess I’ve been watching
My Big Fat Greek Wedding
again and I’m feeling a bit homesick for Greece."

“You’re right. I shouldn’t joke about
my heritage
and I’m gonna be late.” Sophie jumped up, grabbing her book bag and giving her mother a quick kiss.

“Remember, home tonight,” she called after her, as she watched Sophie shut the wooden gate. She noticed the gate’s paint had begun to peel and made a mental note to stop by the hardware store later to pick up some paint.

Oh, what I would give to bring back days when everything I did wasn’t an embarrassment to her
.

Lately, everything from the way Sophie crumbled her clothes into her dresser, to the cluttered mess Sophie’s room had become, drove Callie crazy. A few weeks ago, she found several dresses shoved to the back of Sophie’s chest of drawers, dirty clothes mixed in with clean ones and a lost peanut butter and jelly sandwich squashed between the wall and Sophie’s bed. It had been there so long she wasn’t sure if the mold was jelly or the jelly was mold.

Callie reached down and retrieved her copy of the
Columbus Dispatch
. On the front page was a story about a murder, with the words ‘Cult Killing’ as the headline. Below the headline was a picture of several bodies draped in bloodied sheets and a close-up of one of the victim’s arms showed a symbol branded onto it. The picture was blurry and Callie couldn’t make out the symbol.

It looks like…
Don’t be ridiculous, Callie. It couldn’t be.

She stared at the picture a little longer before letting go of a memory she had long since forgotten.

There is no way that Greek word is branded into that person’s arm.

Callie remembered the stories of the senseless killing. When people were hunted because they were different.

But it was hundreds…no thousands of years ago
.
I refuse to let my imagination get the best of me.

Callie made up her mind to toss the paper away before Sophie got home, when something in the yard caught her eye. It was a shadowy figure and she turned her head to see who it was, but nothing was there.

Add to my daughter’s long list of embarrassments that her mother is starting to see things
.

She chuckled to herself, in spite of a sudden drop in temperature making her teeth chatter. It was strange, considering most of the spring had been surprisingly warm. She grabbed the frost-covered doorknob and stopped, her attention being drawn to a small section of garden to her right. A fragile-looking butterfly fluttered past her and landed on a tulip. She couldn’t recall ever seeing one this early in the spring. The insect’s wings, which had some of the most vivid colors she had ever seen, were dazzling in a shaft of sunlight that had broken through the morning cloud cover. She watched it continue to beat its wings, at first slowly and then faster and faster.

It knows I’m watching it.
She was mesmerized by it, as the colors in its wings moved like a kaleidoscope, blinding at first and then hypnotic. She knew she had to be dreaming because the butterfly was quickly growing larger. It was now the size of a large crow.

She recalled reading somewhere that hallucinations were a warning sign of strokes and wondered if she were about to have one.

“That and the scent of buttered toast.”

The butterfly liquefied into an oil-like red substance that dripped onto the creeping phlox and tulips. The colorful flowers faded, shriveled and sizzled, like someone had poured acid on them. Callie’s mouth went dry as she watched everything coming into contact with the putrid liquid shrivel and melt, adding mass to the slime. As it seeped onto the front lawn, the liquid engulfed and devoured everything in its path, including the boxwoods lining the front walk, the weeping cherry tree Angelo had planted last fall and even the massive maple tree and river birch. All of them lost their color, shriveled and died, falling into an even larger pool of the red liquid that became brighter and seemed to throb in its hunger and intensity. It formed a small river on the opposite side of the front yard, gathering more mass as it churned, bubbled and fell back onto itself.

The once overcast and muted sky had become ominous and threatening. A crack of lightning followed by a burst of thunder exploded above, and the river of red liquid crashed against a huge rock in the front yard, causing it to change direction and form a semi-circular whirlpool. The wind picked up, feeding the rushing liquid with additional velocity, and it rose onto itself, creating a grotesque funnel cloud with the debris from the yard swimming inside of it. As the funnel was about to collide with the far corner of the house, it fell away as quickly as it had formed, revealing a shrouded, blood-drenched figure.

“Oh my God.” Callie said. The figure moved towards her, not on legs, but on a wave of the red substance surging several feet behind it, forming a wall that continued to consume anything near it. Its robes were made of heavy black material shredded into long pieces. Each of the strips moved, independent of the others, stretching mid-air, hungrily searching for her, their razor sharp edges whipping outward and snapping back, slicing through the air.

The apparition reached up and pulled its hood away, exposing a disfigured face, the flesh burned and caked with blood, and two gold coins visible over its eyes. It opened what remained of its blistered lips and howled, lifting its arm and pointing a boney, burnt finger, beseeching her. It hovered several yards away before it rushed forward. Its movement broke Callie's paralysis and she scrambled back against the front door, slamming into it. She grabbed for the door’s handle, but in her haste she jammed the lock. She clawed at the door, gasping for breath. In desperation, she threw all of her weight against the door, which gave way with a loud crack, and she flew through the opening as the specter’s hand touched a strand of her hair.

She rushed back to the door and slammed it shut. A chorus of desperate screams and screeches exploded on the other side as the thing pounded the door with its fists. The impact of the blows threw her off balance, but she grabbed the umbrella stand and slid down the door, attempting to catch her breath and calm herself. The thing let out one final scream, this time calling her name in its hoarse voice, and she pressed her hands over her ears as each word brought a searing pain to her head. Then, the screams stopped. Her ears rang as the room filled with complete silence.