LXIII: Playtime

Amy, in all her childish innocence, did not fully understand the danger that she was on – or perhaps in her child’s wisdom she knew that Medea could destroy the creatures that sprung out of those humans that a moment ago had seemed threatening but otherwise normal. She could burn them where they raised themselves into the air. Gunfire from Achilles forced them to stay low as Hector sprinted forward. Amy quite liked the strange weapon he suddenly held; a long sword with a gun built into the long hilt. At least, she thought it was the part called the hilt. Daddy had called bits of the sword the blade and the hilt in his story; the hilt was where you held it.

Jessica screamed behind her, and Amy twisted under Medea’s coat, lined prettily with mink fur and red leather, to look. The other girl was kicking madly, one of the demons had grabbed her by the ankle and was trying to fly up into the air with her. Amy wondered where it had come from. It had big leathery wings. Michael was in the air next to them, and he had a big sword in his hand, just like Hector, only Michael’s sword was on fire.

“I’ve got the Cassandrian!” the demon who had Jazzy shouted.

Michael raised his sword and cut a demon down. Jessica fell awkwardly, hitting the tarmac with a whimper.

“I will take the child!” Achilles half turned in reply to that call and Hector took a blow to his shoulder, falling. Now Amy was scared. One of the demon creatures rushed towards her and she cringed against Medea’s leg.

“Come, little one, play with me,” Medea laughed, and lifted a perfectly-manicured, child-like hand to beckon them closer, “play with me, children, come and play.”

LXII: Weaponry

Michael felt the air snap around him as though a thousand whips rushed by his face. The power crackled into his hand, took shape, he could feel it there: Purpose given to him by his Father. Power that came only when it was needed.

“They come,” he told the others, “I can feel them.”

“Let them come,” Medea whispered, and Michael glanced at her.

The power he felt was nothing compared the power that surrounded her now, the crackling he had felt had been her doing. She looked so young now, like the young girl who had commanded Jason to cut her brother into pieces and throw him into the sea. He could see it in her now. Her hair moved of its own accord, twining around her and upwards like some living cloud of darkened magic.

“There!” Achilles exclaimed, pointing.

Michael had often wondered how Zeus’ agents fought, three of them as they were, and today that question was answered. Even as Achilles lifted his hands there was a crackle of energy and then his hands were filled, handguns, but somehow with blades as well. The air was thick when they came into sight, to the naked eye human men and women, armed to the teeth.

“Stay with me!” Jessica hissed, clutching at his arm.

“I will keep you safe,” he swore and let the Sword of God form in his hand, “stay low.”

Jessica crouched, on hands and knees.

“Give over the Sighted and the Dreamer and we will let you be!” the leader of the Horde called.

“How about...‘no’?” Hector retaliated, “return to your master, demon.”

“Or what?”

“Or I will render you back into the dust,” Michael shouted.

“We will not bargain. Give us the girls or you die.”

“Give it your best shot,” Achilles suggested.

LXI: Unease

“I’m still not sure about this,” Hector said as they stepped out onto the icy tarmac of the landing strip, glancing at his lover.

“Eh, the girl said she Saw it this way? Why argue with the Fates?” Achilles told him, squeezing his shoulder as he looked around him.

“Because the last time we did not argue with the Fates we ended up knee-deep in blood. D’you remember?”

“I’m not likely to forget the ten-year-long war that made us who we are today, love,” Achilles murmured.

“Keep your wits,” Hector put in, motioning as Medea made her way out of the jet, “I do not trust this.”

“You were ever wary of open spaces.”

“I’m more wary of the Prince’s minions, he’s more resourceful than I’d like,” Hector muttered.

Achilles nodded and looked up into the sky.

“You’re right.”

“He’s very right,” Medea said as she came down the steps, “the air is heavy with magic.”

Amy stepped out of the jet then, holding Bast’s silent form. Jessica followed her, Michael at her side.

“Come here, child,” Medea instructed and gathered Amy to her almost absently. Long-lost maternal instinct perhaps? Or long suppressed?

When Amy was sheltered in the scarlet curve of the length of Medea’s fur coat, they started to cross the tarmac to where the cars were waiting. They had gone two steps, maybe three when Hector raised a fist and they stopped.

“What?” Medea asked.

“Miss Medea...I’m scared,” Amy whispered.

“It’ll be alright, child,” Medea murmured, her eyes were scanning.

“Do you see anything?” Jessica asked, her voice nervous.

“Quiet,” Achilles hissed and Jessica pressed herself again Michael.

Medea glanced at the couple, and sneered at the energy that was taking shape around the young man. Ah, Arcs. Pitifully chained and thus, limited. Luckily, she was neither.

LX: Semantics

“So you propose we wait here, until Alyxa loses her mind and we grow even more ancient than we are?” Morpheus demanded.

-Not exactly. Enyo says that there is movement in the real world.-

“Does that line go both ways?” Alyxa asked, looking at the caged goddess with bright eyes, “I mean, you could send a message to my parents?”

“Your parents are dead, little one,” Morpheus murmured.

-Anyways,- Bast interrupted before Alyxa could go on, -Enyo says that the wait will not be long now.-

“Lemme get this straight before you say anything more,” Alyxa said, suddenly completely lucid, “we wait here. Someone rocks up. Presumeably this person is mortal. We’re still going to sacrifice another human being? Kill another human being.”

-It might be a dog,- Bast offered, -we might sacrifice a dog? That wouldn’t be hard right?-

Alyxa gave her a weird look.

“I believe Alyxa’s point is, are you willing to sacrifice anyone to let little darling Enyo here work her magic,” Lucifer’s voice said and they all started.

The Prince of Darkness, Lord of Evil, etc. etc. was lounging quite comfortably in his throne between the two cages. He had not been there a moment before.

“Lucifer – ” Morpheus started.

“Oh tut, tut, darling,” the Morning Star chided, waving a hand in the Dream-King’s general direction, “you don’t think you can scheme here without me knowing it? I practically raised betrayal to an artform, remember? I am very familiar with it.”

-It’s not betrayal if you’re plotting against the Enemy,- Bast pointed out, her mental voice sickly sweet.
“Rub that in, why don’t you, kitty,” Lucifer pouted.

Bast hissed at him.

“He does have a point though,” Alyxa whispered, “can we kill anyone?”

“You could always take me up on my offer,” Luficer reminded them.

LIX: Viable

-You see, Enyo cannot break herself free, but given the right amount of power, she can free me. I would like to see that glittering poofball of a fallen Arc deal with me without these bars!- Bast explained as Enyo beckoned them closer.

“I…I know some of where Enyo’s power comes from,” Morpheus said, hesistantly, “just how much blood is it going to take?”

Enyo glanced at Bast and their communication took place again; Bast didn’t reply and sat instead in silence.

“That bad, huh?” Alyxa murmured, “well…if it’s going to take that much blood you might as well kill me and be done with it. If I stay here any longer I’m going to lose it all anyways.”

Morpheus tightened his grip on her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped.

-She’s making you more human isn’t she?- Bast observed, looking up from her paws, -if you had spent less time in the real world you’d have agreed that her sacrifice would have been the most pragmatic option, were it a viable option to start with.-

“What do you mean?”

Enyo gestured shortly, her sweet smile aimed somewhere between Bast and Morpheus.

-Alyxa’s blood is here because she was sent here, against her will. As a result any sacrifice she makes is against her will.-

“Do you have any idea how illogical that sounds?” the Dream-King demanded and Alyxa rolled her eyes.

“Oh, pretty,” she whispered, realizing that there were bright blues and reds glimmering on the high ceiling.

-She’s not herself,- Bast pointed out, -how can you expect her to make a decision she would make otherwise?-

Morpheus slumped his shoulders.

“Then what? There are no other mortals here with blood to give.”

Enyo laughed then, and it was an eerie laugh bereft of amusement, soundless, cold and yet… lonely.

LVIII: Theology

“So you want to make the child swim down into Hell through the Sibyl’s lake, talk to the devil, and convince him to let the Dreamer and the others go?”


It was the way that Medea said it, the scoffing tone, that made it sound ridiculous.

“Yes,” Jessica said.

“Better to send one of the pretty boys, at least they might have something to offer the Morning Star,” the Witch-Queen stated, and Jessica sensed her sitting down, one knee drawn over the other.

“No smoking inside please, Miss Medea,” Amy’s young voice piped in. A crackle of power, a grumbled response, and the smell of smoke vanished.

“You do realize no mortal child has done this before,” Achilles pointed out as an aside from his conversation with Hector on the phone.

“It’s what she Saw,” Michael said.

“Why don’t you go? You’ve fought him before and won,” Medea pointed out, “if I recall the stories correctly, you’re the reason why he’s down there in the first place.”

Jessica felt Michael tense.

“My Father is not entirely…interested in these affairs. He sent the Arcs to Earth to be caretakers.”

“Typical, absentee parents, what more could you base religion on?” Medea sneered. Jessica could almost see her beautiful lips curving upwards in a sardonic smile.

“Better an absentee Father who loves than none at all,” Michael countered.

“Better a set of parents that can admit when they’ve blundered,” the Witch retorted.

“Will you two please grow the fuck up?” Achilles demanded, stepping back into the room again.

“You said a bad word, Mr. ‘chilles,” Amy chided softly.

“For which I apologize profusely, my dear,” he turned to the others in the room, “that was Hector. So unless someone comes up with another plan it’s wheel’s up in two hours. We’re goin’ swimming!”

LVII: Frightened

Alyxa couldn’t sleep. It was, quite literally, driving her insane, and all Morpheus could do was watch her. More often than not, afraid to leave her alone, he carried her around in his arms, letting her talk at him or simply be silent as he wandered the halls of Hell. He had come here rarely when it had still been under Hades’ rule, and he had to admit – quietly – that Lucifer had a flair for the dramatic. The lofty ceilings and great pillars were swarming with golds and silvers, deep velvet blues and blacks. Everywhere you turned there were paintings and portraits; it was very much like wandering through a museum or palace of the ages. Lucifer left them to their own devices for the most part, dropping in every now and then to see if Morpheus had had enough time to think. This place wore on you; people did not sleep here, or dream, as most of them were dead. For Dreamers then, it was agonizing, and for the Dream-King himself? He knew he was fading in power.

Alyxa tugged on his sleeve and he glanced down at her.

“Can we go home yet?” she asked softly, her internal battle clouding her eyes.

“Soon, my love,” he replied softly. She shifted in his grip.

“Let’s go see Bast?”

He nodded and turned, wandering in the direction of the throne room. Lucifer wasn’t there, but the two cages were. Bast looked up as they entered and stretched her panther-shape.

-Good, you’re here. Enyo, tell them.-

The goddess Kali – also known as Enyo in the Greek world – beckoned them closer. From what Morpheus understood, she had been one of the first that Lucifer had trapped, afraid of her. Who wouldn’t be? Goddess of Destruction, Ares’ lover and consort, Lady of Fire…

LVI: Swimming

There is a lake. A deep lake. So deep that it rivals any ocean. She can see a girl swimming in the water. It’s the little girl from the living room. She’s wearing a rather pink frilly dress.


Jessica can feel nothing save for Medea’s claw, wrapped around her throat in a somehow gentle grip.

Then...

The water is freezing. She sees through the child’s eyes.

Down, down. I mustn’t be afraid. Alyxa is down there. I’m the only one can go get her. The pretty girl said so. I have to rescue Alyxa and Mr. Morpheus, and Bast. I’m the only one. I can hold my breath forever! The scary witch lady told me so. I shouldn’t call her that, but she’s mean! Though she did let me have pasta for dinner. That was nice.

The stream of consciousness is punctuated here and there by spikes of suppressed terror at being unable to reach the bottom before she runs out of breath. If there even is a bottom to this vastness. Then, there it is, a brilliant glimmer of light, like a whirlpool deep beneath the waters.

Jessica blinked as the vision cleared itself from her eyes, restoring the chaos of colours.

“Well?”

“There’s a lake,” Jazzy said into the room, feeling Medea’s hand slip away, “and a whirlpool beneath it. The little Dreamer has to swim into it. She’s the only one who can bring them back.”

“Me?” the child’s voice squeaked, sounding for the first time.

“Yes, that’s what I Saw. Don’t be scared, you’ll be alright. Medea here will cast a spell on you so you won’t need to breath underwater or something. Can you swim?”

The girl nodded – relayed by Michael.

“What then?” Medea demanded.

“No idea.”

“Pit a child against the Devil?” Achilles suggested.