Kumbaya, Space Hippie Read online

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Amanda muttered.

  I ignored her. “No. He made ancient Greece the new normal, but he left the fuck puppets out of the equation.”

  “Prude.”

  “He also shattered the pithos and let the Evils out. Again.”

  Constantinides whistled and sat back on his throne. “Sounds like a real shit show. Is that why you’re here? Are you looking for some kind of solution?”

  I sighed. “Yeah. Under protest.”

  “Why ‘under protest’?”

  It was Amanda’s turn to lean forward. “Because she’s Greek and Greeks are crippled by their own emotions.”

  Connie gave his common law wife a sour look but didn’t respond to her. “What do you need?” he said.

  “I need to talk to Medea.”

  The Josh Groban lookalike shook his head. “Now the ‘under protest’ makes sense. Are sure that’s what you wanna do?”

  “I’m not, but I’m here, so…”

  Constantinides nodded and stepped down off of his black throne. “I’ll take you. If I let Amanda do it, there’s liable to be a catfight.”

  Venables shot venom at Connie. “If you let me do it?”

  Connie rolled his eyes. “Easy there, Trigger. It’s just a figure of speech.” He headed toward my right. I’d only ever been down the path to my left. The path to the Asphodel Meadows. It’s where I’d met Eurydice. It’s where all the common people went. To the right was Elysium, the place where all the celebrities went. People like Odysseus and Socrates.

  “Medea is in Elysium?” I said, hardly believing it.

  My host shrugged. “This isn’t like the Christian Hell. We don’t have a dedicated place for bad people. Remember, the Olympian faith wasn’t defined by its emphasis on morality. Given the way this place is zoned, Elysium was the only place we could put Medea. I mean, she was a princess, and, after a fashion, she was a celebrity.”

  “Okay, okay. I know it’s not your fault. I was just hoping for a little eternal suffering for the lady in question.”

  Constantinides nodded. “You’re preaching to the choir.”

  We took the steps down into the recessed area that was Elysium. The Asphodel Meadows was characterized by its wide-open spaces and its beautiful trees. Elysium, while beautiful, was more urban. I went to all the great Greek cities during their heyday and yet I’d never seen so many white columns in my life. Building after building after building as far as my eyes could see.

  As soon as we got to the bottom of the steps, we were met by a smiling man in a toga cinched with a gold belt. He wore sandals and a crown of laurels. I understood his function intuitively. He was the doorman. “Amyntas, how are you?” Connie said. “This is my friend Pandora.”

  Amyntas would’ve been very much at home in any one of your finer hotels. Based on his demeanor, I’d underestimated him by thinking of him as the doorman. He was more like a concierge. “Oh!” he said. “A visitor of some distinction! I’m very happy to meet you, miss.”

  “Likewise,” I replied, shaking the hand that was offered me.

  “Listen, Amyntas, we need to speak with Medea. Can that be arranged?”

  The pleasant-looking man sighed. “Of course, it can be arranged, sir. Particularly for the likes of yourself and your esteemed guest. Of course, if it was left up to Medea…”

  Connie nodded. “I understand.”

  Amyntas turned and snapped his fingers and an amazing thing happened. A miniature version of a Greek sailing ship slid into view next to us as if it was on an overhead track. The side facing us was open and an upholstered bench awaited our sitting pleasure. When I’d first come to the Underworld my first takeaway had been that it reminded me of one of the dark rides at Disneyland. This cute little sailboat cemented the amusement park feel. Connie motioned for me to get in which I did. Before he followed me, he slipped the concierge a bill.

  As soon as we were aboard, the ship pulled away and flew us at leisurely speed through street after street of marble buildings. ” What’s a condo go for here?” I said.

  “You have to be dead. And famous,” Constantinides. “The second one you probably qualify for. The first, not yet, thank gods.”

  The ride took long enough for me to realize there was an oppressive sameness to the place. It was gorgeous, but it was also monotonous. You seen one Grecian temple, you’ve seen them all. Just when I was about to comment on my boredom, the ship came to a stop in front of—surprise surprise—a spotless Grecian temple.

  “Come on,” Connie said. “Amyntas called ahead—it’s part of the gig—so I’m sure we’ll have to talk our way in.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  We mounted the steps and the lord of the Underworld knocked on the heavy wooden door. He had to knock two more times before the portal opened just a crack. “Yes?” said a familiar voice from inside.

  Connie sighed. “You were told we were coming. Don’t act like we’re Jehovah’s Witnesses or something.”

  “You can compel me to allow you in. That’s your right. Barring that, I don’t want to speak to you.”

  Connie sighed even harder. “Fine. Whatever.” He raised his hands and acted like he was going to cast a spell on her. In an affected voice, he said, “Medea, I compel you to allow us to enter!”

  The door swung wider and Constantinides motioned for me to go in first. The decor was not at all surprising. The walls were black, the floors were black, the ceiling was black. All the furniture was black. Medea wore a black toga. “You’re nothing if not predictable,” I told her.

  She cocked her head. “I wish I could say the same. You finding Tassos and Cressida and bringing them to me was a masterstroke. Congratulations.”

  “I have my good days, and I have my bad days.”

  “You’ll have more bad days if I have anything to say about it.”

  “Says the dead girl.”

  Connie entered and closed the door behind him. “Don’t make me separate you two.” He turned to me. “I don’t wanna be here any longer than I have to, so why don’t you cut to the chase?”

  “Fine,” I said, looking from my host to the famous sorceress. “The hierophant… What is it and why did you want it?”

  Medea looked at me with eyes like stones. She turned to Connie and said, “I don’t wish to have this conversation. You can compel me, of course, but— “

  Connie didn’t bother with his hands or the funny voice this time. “You’re compelled.”

  Before she looked away from her jailer, Medea said to him, “You’ll find in time that owning a special hat doesn’t make you a true god. I want to be the one who teaches you that lesson.”

  “Did you not hear me just now?” Constantinides said, raising his voice slightly. “With the compelling?”

  Medea looked at me and, in a singsong voice she said, “The hierophant is a statue with an entity living inside it, much like your pithos—which I hear has fallen on hard times.”

  No telling how she knew that. I had no interest in finding out. “I don’t need a textbook definition. I already knew that. What’s it good for, and why did you want it? You wanted to gain possession before you opened the Tartarus Gate. Why?”

  Our hostess’ eye flicked briefly to Connie. “The hierophant has the power to compel. In a way so much more meaningful and long-lasting than any tinhorn lord of the Underworld could manage. Some would say it has the power to change minds. Some would say it has the power to enslave. In either case, you can see how such a thing might be useful.”

  “You were going to use it on Cronus. To bend him to your will.” Cronus was the king of the Titans and father to most of the Olympians. He would’ve been the one Medea had to cajole into letting her take charge of the elder gods.

  The woman nodded.

  “You failed to lay your hands on the hierophant and yet you chose to go ahead and free the Titans anyway… Were you going to try and skate through on sheer charm?”

  “I have my meth
ods.”

  “Like slipping a mickey into Medusa’s lube?”

  Medea didn’t comment.

  Connie said, “Wait… What?”

  “I’ll tell you later. So, Medusa moved the hierophant offsite. Did you figure out where she hid it?”

  Medea nodded. “I did, but I was already dead by then.”

  “Okay, so spill…”

  “She left it at her sister’s house.”

  I looked back over my knowledge of Greek canon. Medusa did indeed have two sisters, but they all hated one another. “One of the other gorgons?”

  Medea cocked an eyebrow and smiled. “Not one of her biological sisters.”

  Constantinides looked at his watch. It was all black to match his outfit (actually, he fit right in in Medea’s apartment). “Come on, stop speaking in riddles. The Jets are playing the Patriots in twenty minutes.”

  Medea sighed and said to me, “You should really bone up on your Hollywood history. Medusa had a whole career before becoming Gloria Mae. She was huge in the silent era as ‘Simone Geller’. She and her ’sibling’ Honoria. They were put together by their director as the poor man’s Gish sisters. Medusa was immortal. Honoria was not. Medusa has been a patron of her longtime partner’s family from the nineteen teens all the way up to the present day. She’s put many generations of Honoria’s family through college. I find it sickeningly sentimental, but some people go in for that sort of thing. At any rate, Medusa secreted the hierophant in the home of her old partner. I have every reason to believe it’s still there.”

  Now we were getting somewhere. “What was Honoria Geller’s real last name?”

  “Hornblatt.”

  “And where is the Hornblatt home?”

  “In the Valley. North Hollywood.”

  I turned to Connie. “I have everything I need. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Amen,” he said.

  As we were headed out, I said to Medea, “Say ‘hi’ to the family for me.”

  She didn’t reply. She just flipped me the bird.

  When we got back outside, the little Greek sailing ship amusement park ride thingy was waiting for us. We got in, pulled the metal bar down into our laps and were underway. After a moment, Connie spoke. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

  “Depends on the something, I suppose, but go ahead.”

  He nodded. “What do you think I oughta do? With Amanda, I mean…”

  “What should you do with her? Like do I think you should murder her or something?”

  “No, no. Poor choice of words. I mean, I know you’re her friend more than you are my friend, but I was just wondering what your advice would be. I like her. I like her a lot. But she is wound a little tight. A lot of times, I set her off, and not only did I not expect to set her off, in retrospect, I can’t figure out why.”

  “Can I be frank with you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Your problem is you’re dumb.”

  His shoulders sagged. He looked to his left for a moment to take in the pageant of sameness passing on either side of us. “Thanks for the help,” he said, making eye contact with me again.

  “Don’t misunderstand me. It’s not your fault—not entirely, anyway. You’re dumb in the same way every man has been ever in the history of men and women. I’m gonna let you in on a little secret…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Men and women are wired different. They don’t think the same way. A wise man realizes that becoming simpatico with women is a lot like going to a foreign country. Learning the language. Understanding the customs. Can I ask you a direct question and get a straight answer?”

  “Depends on the question, I suppose, but go ahead.”

  “Do you have much experience with women? Before Amanda, I mean.”

  He flushed a little. “No. Not really.”

  “Based on what Amanda’s telling me—which, I concede, might’ve grown in the telling—you say a lot of stupid shit.”

  He adjusted his position, so he could face me. I’d gotten hold of his full attention, which was a good sign. “Stupid how?”

  “You can’t talk to a girl like you talk to your buddies. You can’t say anything too caustic about their appearance. Their height, their weight, their outfit, their breast size, the shape of their ass, their makeup, etcetera. You also can’t say anything too critical of their manner. The way they flirt, the way they fight, the way they sometimes sound like their mothers in certain situations. That one can be a real no-no.”

  “So… There’re a lotta rules I gotta observe…”

  “No, honestly, a lot of it is commonsense. Before you say or do something, think about how you would react if you were the opposite gender. Some of that comes with experience, some of it is fairly intuitive. In your case, I think you’ve built up a backlog of the kind of things that offend Amanda. That’s good information; use it. Don’t be in such a rush to blurt something out all the time. Take that five seconds and think to yourself, ‘Man, she sure did get upset when I said she had small titties. I bet she would react more or less the same way if I said that again’. It’s just like touching a hot stove, but, unlike most people, you haven’t yet learned not to touch the hot stove again. It’s not rocket science when you just slow down.”

  He nodded, drinking in my supposed wisdom. It was hard for me to think of myself as a proper guru when what I was telling him seemed so obvious. “You told Amanda that I should get a pass because I was Greek. Do you believe that, or was that just a thing you say?”

  I had to tread carefully. “I might’ve been angry and combative when I said it, but it does hold a kernel of truth. Still, I don’t think you can use it as an excuse. If you do, soon all you’ll have is the excuse and not a lot else.”

  Unfortunately, he did the unexpected, he turned my own argument back on me. “You’re Greek too, you know?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Alright, alright, don’t be proud of yourself for saying one smart thing. You still have a lot of work to do. So does Amanda for that matter.” We both faced forward again. Just as the fake sailing ship dropped us off at the stairs leading up to the hub, I said, “Here’s a tip for you: Don’t watch the game. Spend that time with Amanda. And, for the love of gods, whatever you do, don’t tell Amanda you’re spending time with her instead of watching the game. Let her figure that out on her own.”

  Connie grinned. “Will you stay down here and always tell me what to do and say?”

  “I dunno. Would I get dental with that?”

  I left Bronson Caves after nightfall. More time had passed than I expected, which meant I’d made a tactical error. The Arae was on me almost immediately—and, again, I made the stupid mistake of not coming armed. She dropped down from directly above and, because of the angle, was unable to rake me with her clawed feet. Instead, it was like having a huge sack of grain knock me off my feet. I hit the dusty ground (the same dusty ground on which I’d been shot in the shoulder about a month before) and heard the Arae’s wings beat as she rose again. If it’d been me, I’d’ve flown in horizontally and scratched with my talons, thus drawing some blood, but I don’t think Arae are known for their tactical thinking. My knowledge of Arae lore was sketchy at best, but I did recall one fun fact: Arae are required to provide their prospective victims with the name of the person seeking vengeance against them. I rubbed the top of my head and came to a seated position. “Hey!” I said. “Get in here! I invoke my right to know the name of my enemy.”

  I could see the winged female silhouetted against the sky. She doubled back and hovered in front of me, just out of reach. She beat her wings hard to stay off the ground and screeched, “Adrestia!”

  That wasn’t exactly a revelation. I knew going in who’d sicced the feathery little bitch on me. Hearing Addie’s name out loud wasn’t the point. Me throwing a rock and beaning the Arae in the noggin was the point.

  The monster flipped end over end once before she slid to a stop in the dust. I was up and on her in an instant. And bo
y was that a mistake. The Arae managed to get legs up just as I fell on her. She scratched at me with her feet in cyclical motions like she was riding an invisible bicycle. She tore my Kenny Loggins t-shirt to shreds and ripped a few long gashes into my abdomen. It hurt like a motherfucker, but it also made me a whole lot madder than I was before. I pressed down on her legs with my full weight (I was a lot heavier since a) she had hollow bones like a bird and b) I was chunky). Since I had my hands pressing down on her wings, I didn’t have a way to hurt her the way I wanted. Actually, that wasn’t true. I had one weapon at my disposal and I used it without hesitation. I bit the her on the neck and got the hoped-for reaction. The Arae screamed like a parakeet in extreme distress.

  Desperate, my enemy pushed back with her strong legs and her wings. Her wings in particular had a lot of force behind them, so the creature was able to flip me off of her. I fell to her left side with a mouthful of feathers.

  She tried to use the momentum from the flip to get on top of me, but I kept rolling so she landed on empty ground. I reversed my direction and gave her a brutal kick to the flank. Again, she gave that satisfying birdie scream. I decided to keep going while I was ahead. My first kick had been measured and precise. The next six kicks were quicker, more brutal but also less targeted. Still, they had the desired effect. The Arae dropped onto her belly, breathing hard. I came up onto her back, sitting at the base of her spine with my hands holding down her wrists. I said, “I’m going to pluck you, fry you and eat you, bird whore!”

  My enemy didn’t respond. She had one purpose in life and that was to fuck me up. If she couldn’t do that, she was probably willing to go quietly into that good night. I shouldn’t have hesitated, but I did. She looked fragile and pathetic underneath me. I moved a couple of times to break her neck but stopped each time. Finally, I crossed then uncrossed my eyes and said. “If I promise to let you go, will you leave me alone?”

  The Arae thought for a moment. “I will leave you alone.”

  “You can go back and tell Adrestia you failed.”