The Cult of Kronos Read online

  “Woah!” Lewis shouted. “Is that what you really look like?”

  Hades nodded. “At least the form that Doc can safely look on without his head exploding.”

  “Wait, what?” Nick said.

  “I'm mortal. If I see your true forms my head will explode,” Jason said all-too-casually. He had been over it with Celene before the meeting.

  “The memories are mixed-up,” Celene warned. “You won't all suddenly remember everything at once. It's a lot for the mind to take in. You'll have to sort it out.”

  Peter returned to his mortal form and pointed to the water skin. “The alternative is that you could die, but that's painful and unpleasant, and I'd have to go back to New Orleans to fetch you. Or you can drink the water of the Mnemosyne. Think of it as a shortcut.”

  Zach held out his hand. “I'll go first,” he said.

  “Why you?” Nick argued.

  “Because nobody seems to want you as the leader,” Lewis snapped.

  Zach shook his head. “Because Kronos sent that postcard to me. His beef is with me. I'll go first. We'll take turns. Everyone will get a chance.”

  Lewis began to sing, “Ninety-nine bottles of memory on the wall, take one down, pass it around, everyone gets the shape-shift…well the tune needs some work.”

  Jason tossed the leather water skin to Zach. Zach closed his eyes and tipped the bag back to pour a few sips into his mouth. The shimmering liquid passed over his lips. Everyone waited. Zach's eyes opened suddenly, glowing white-hot. He dropped the bag and fell to his knees. His fingers pressed into the wood floor and sparks surged around his forearms. Zach threw his head back and screamed.

  “There are only two people who can tell you the truth about yourself- an enemy who has lost his temper and a friend who loves you dearly.”

  -Antisthenes

  IX.

  The sky over Mount Olympus had darkened to a deep blue-purple with pinpricks of white light that stood as monuments to Draco, Hercules, and the little bear. On the mountain top, the version that mortals could not see from their homes below, the kingdom of the Olympians was at rest. A night of feasting had ended hours ago. Golden torches still burned in the streets and in the halls of the mighty palace, but in the bed chambers of the king and the homes of the council of twelve, everything was dark. The constant thrumming of Cicadas was the only sound that hung in the air, mixing with the smells of burning incense to create an other-worldly atmosphere.

  Lord Zeus, covered only by a silk sheet, lay sprawled across his bed, his large chest rising and falling with steady, peaceful breath. Hera curled up at his side, tucked under the crook of his arm. Her hair, normally worn in an intricate knot at the top of her head, fanned out around her as she slept. They did not hear the creaking of the palace gate; Zeus slept too heavily with the scent of honey wine on his breath.

  The indigo sky beyond the columns of the master bedroom turned inky black and all of the stars seemed to extinguish like candles. The blackness took the torches and hid the light of the moon, blanketing the sleeping gods in its cloak. Zeus shot up in bed. With no light, they were blind.

  “What's happening,” his queen asked, her hands gripping his arm to make sure she knew where he was.

  Zeus held up his hand and generated a fistful of crackling electricity, but that too was quickly absorbed by darkness. “Erebos,” he hissed.

  He grabbed his wife's hand and pulled her up from the bed, afraid to lose her in the dark.

  “We need to sound the alarm,” she said. As the final word passed over her lips, massive hands, invisible in the darkness, clamped over her mouth. Zeus felt her slender fingers slip out of his own.

  “Hera!”

  Silence.

  He roared with fury, swinging wildly in each direction, hoping to catch the infiltrator. “Come out, you coward!” he shouted. Below, in the homes of the council, Zeus heard a distant bellowing and the clanging of swords; Ares was not going down without a fight. “I am king of the Olympians, fight me!”

  The darkness receded. Three gods—two of them Titans—stood before Zeus. One, Epimetheus, held Hera, his hand clamped over her mouth, the other looped through her arms, pinning them behind her back. He stood five feet taller than the Queen of the Gods. She was no match for his strength. His brother, Prometheus, held a torch.

  “What is this betrayal?” Zeus growled.

  “I, Prometheus, son of Iapetus, by order of the Titans of Mount Othrys, charge Zeus, King of Olympus, and his council of twelve with abuse of his station as governor of mankind. He, his council, and the court of Hades, King of the Underworld shall hereby serve an eternity in the pit of Tartarus for their crimes against humanity.”

  “Speak to me in your own words, you coward!”

  “I'm sorry,” Prometheus said, the sadness evident in his eyes. “But you're out of control. You’ve lost site of your duties.”

  “So you turn back to Kronos? You fought alongside me in the rebellion. You were on my side!”

  The slapping of leather sandals on marble floor filled the hallway. Perses approached, a Titan as large as his cousins. He was covered in dirt and blood, though none of it was his own. “Ares is subdued,” he said. Indeed, the shouting had died out. “That was the last of them. We have them all.”

  “How did you get in?” Zeus growled. His hands sparked.

  “We had a little help,” Prometheus said. “Come, Perses. Bind the king before he gets any bright ideas. Any…surges of inspiration.”

  “Someone let you in?”

  “Even your own people don't want you in charge, Zeus.” Prometheus watched as Perses drew a pair of golden manacles from his belt. He crossed to Zeus.

  “Don't touch me!” he shouted. His hand surged with energy and he swung at the Titan. Perses ducked the blow and backed off.

  “Keep fighting and I'll snap her neck,” Epimetheus said. He moved his massive hand from Hera's mouth and gripped her jaw. He pushed her head back, showing her throat to Zeus. “It'll be easy.”

  “And impermanent,” Zeus said.

  “But this,” Epimetheus said, removing his hand from her jaw to reach for a dagger at his belt, “is more permanent. Dipped in the Styx.”

  “You wouldn't.”

  “I would,” Epimetheus said. “She's got my wife's eyes, or rather my wife has hers, but I could still do it.”

  “You were our ally,” Hera pleaded, her eyes trained on Prometheus. “You will go down in history as a traitor.”

  “Like I was a traitor for a harmless prank? It was a bad cut of meat, not the poison you fed your own father. And was I was a traitor when I gave mankind fire so that they could live? I would rather be marked as a traitor than a tyrant.”

  “You're just going to let Kronos rule?”

  “No. I'm going to let mankind rule. You never believed in them, Zeus. And neither does Kronos. I'm going to let them govern themselves for a while, to aspire to greatness without fear of being struck down by a jealous god.”

  Epimetheus pressed the corner of the blade into Hera's throat.

  “Surrender, Zeus,” Prometheus said, “and I won't have a vulture pick out your innards for a thousand years.”

  Zeus looked back and forth between his wife and Epimetheus. The younger Titan had hunger in his eyes; he wanted to do it. Zeus cast his eyes to the floor and held out his wrists. Perses stepped forward with the manacles and hesitated.

  “You took down Ares, but you're afraid of me?” Zeus asked, looking up at the Titan.

  “A little,” Perses said, before he swung his fist and knocked Zeus unconscious.

  The lightning crackled and faded away, leaving Zach doubled-over on the wooden floor, scorch marks burnt around his hands. The light faded from his eyes. He panted, his whole body covered in perspiration. It had only been a few seconds, but the memory had been so vivid that, to Zach, it felt like minutes.

  Jason had shielded his eyes and turned away, afraid that Zach would burst into a form that would burn out his eyes
or make his head explode. He had done his homework and read the myths. He knew what happened when mortals, like Semele, looked on the true forms of the gods. He didn't know exactly what would happen if he looked on their true forms, but he knew it had a final result of death.

  “I'm leaving this room,” Jason said. “Until you're all done going super-nova. Try not to burn down my house.”

  “Prometheus,” Zach panted. Jason stopped in his retreat, interested to hear what Zach had to say. “I saw Prometheus. He was in charge the night we were taken.”

  “You saw that?” Lewis asked.

  “I remember hands in the darkness,” Celene said, hugging herself as if a chill had just entered the room. “A darkness so complete that we were blind.”

  “They burst in to Hades with an army. They brought their own boats,” said Peter. “They caught Cerberus in a net of chains. They stabbed my guards with blades dipped in the Styx.”

  “They arrested us for crimes against humanity,” Zeus said. “They threw us in Tartarus. I remember…thousands of years in that pit, fighting off men we had condemned to torture.”

  “I don't know if I want to remember that,” Devon said. Xander had begun to fuss at Zach's sudden outburst of shouting and lightning. She patted his back now, and she bounced him gently in her arms.

  Zach pushed himself to his feet. Somehow he seemed taller, and everyone in the room looked startled at this change. Seeing that Zach was alright, Jason turned to leave the room. “Wait,” Zach said. “There's more. Kronos wasn't supposed to be in charge.”

  “Who was?” Jason asked.

  “People. Even Prometheus knew that Kronos was a bad leader. If he's out now, stomping around…”

  “Then Prometheus' plan has gone terribly wrong,” Peter said. “The Olympians were not supposed to be in charge, but Kronos really shouldn't be either. He's cruel and he's lethal.”

  Celene touched the back of her head where her spine met her skull. “And if what we've seen of him so far is any indication of how he'll rule…”

  “Damn,” Lewis said. “Shit just got heavy.”

  They all nodded quietly. Xander stopped fussing and went back to sleep, resting against his mother's breast. The Pantheon exchanged worried glances.

  “One more thing,” Zach said. “I asked Prometheus who let him into the palace.”

  “And?” Teddy asked.

  “I don't know. But he said it was one of us. Someone here betrayed us.”

  “Because of our crimes against humanity?” Valerie asked.

  “Because they're a slimy traitor,” Nick said. “Whoever they are, joke is on them. They got shoved into Tartarus, too.”

  The room fell silent again. Zach trained his eyes on Nick, and each present member of The Pantheon looked at their allies, wondering who could be trusted.

  “Menoetius said something,” Peter said, “on the roof that night. About a traitor.”

  “I heard it,” Frank grunted.

  “Tends to lend credibility to what Zach remembers,” Astin said. “Doesn't it?”

  They all nodded.

  “Well,” Lewis said, springing to his feet and snatching the water skin up from the floor. “Let's all take turns drinking and see who remembers being a rat fink, eh?”

  Jason waved his hand and turned toward the hall. “Yep. I'll be in my room. Someone get me when the shiny awakenings are over. ”

  Zach nodded, “Yeah. That could get messy.”

  “Why?” Penny asked, “What happens?”

  “Let's just say I—well, Zeus—blew up Dionysus' mother by showing her my true form. We don’t want to do that to Jason.”

  “Blew up?” Teddy asked.

  Zach nodded. “Mortals can't see what we really look like. It's too much for their minds.”

  “Yeah, Doc,” Teddy said, nodding in vigorous agreement. “Get out of here. We'll call you when we're done.”

  “It is easy to be brave at a safe distance.”

  -Aesop

  X.

  Zach felt energized as he made the drive back to Gainesville. He had spent the night in Olympia Heights, going to an end-of-summer party with Lewis and checking in with June before bed. He couldn't tell her anything that had happened at the meeting. Paranoia was growing. Nobody wanted to risk exposing the group of gods to a government wiretap or a private snoop like Julius Spade. Instead he told her that he had news to share when he made it back the next day. Until then, she would just have to trust that the news was mostly good.

  Zach didn't drink at the party. He had to keep a clean record for the football team, and he didn't want to be caught off guard if Kronos decided to pick up where he left off with Celene. He wouldn't let Lewis, drink, either. “We have to be on guard,” Zach had murmured as he'd taken the red Solo cup from Lewis' hand.

  “I'll be fine. My metabolism is through the roof.”

  “No,” Zach said. “I need you at a hundred percent if something goes down.”

  “Here? In front of all of these witnesses?” Lewis asked.

  Lewis had been right after all. Nothing eventful had happened at the party. A drunk junior girl had tried to pounce Zach, but Zach was trying fidelity now and wanted no part of it. A couple of guys from the football team, bros who had just been promoted from JV, had gotten into a fight that had ended pretty quickly. After the fight, Zach went home, called June, and went to bed. He had to set out early.

  Now Zach drove the turnpike between Miami and Gainesville, but he had to make a stop. His father hadn't sent the check to pay for Zach's schoolbooks, and he couldn't wait on the money. Zach suffered through the Disney traffic to make a stop in Orlando where his father lived and worked.

  The glass tower caught the blues and greens of palm trees and sunny skies. Zach hurried to cross six lanes of traffic before the blinking white walk sign turned into an orange stop. His polarized aviator sunglasses blocked the reflected light from the building and warped the colors of his iPhone screen as he checked to make sure he had the correct address.

  The last time Zach had visited his father at work, Zach had been in elementary school. His teacher had gotten the idea to assign a paper for Take Your Daughter to Work Day: all of the students, boys and girls, were required to visit a parent at work and write a one-page essay on the experience. Zach's mother had been between jobs, so Zach had gone to visit his father back when Mr. Jacobs still lived and worked in Miami. The day had started great; Zach's father had gifted him with a brand new Game Boy Advance SP (the kind that folded up) and a copy of Mario Kart Super Circuit. The rest of the day had gone downhill from there. Instead of spending time with his father, learning about what he did for a living, Zach had sat in the office and played Game Boy all day while his father bounced around between meetings. His lunch, which had come nearly three hours after it was normally served at school, was ordered for him: edamame and cold lettuce wraps. He didn't know what it was and he didn't know how to eat it. After chewing fruitlessly on the edamame pods (and at one point choking on the stringy result), Zach had given up and picked the water chestnuts out of the lettuce wraps to nibble on. He remembered going home and crying to his mother that his day was awful. Zach still wasn't sure what his father actually did for a living.

  His whole being, however, surged with confidence today. After everyone at the meeting had taken a sip of the Mnemosyne, all sorts of memories had come back. Lewis was the first to figure out how to shape-shift, and the others had followed closely behind. Zach had focused on his memories and taken his truest human form. As Zeus, he stood seven feet tall and had a glorious beard. His body, as a god, made him look like one of the guys from 300 on steroids, and his blue eyes crackled with electricity. June's goddess form had dark hair and large, green eyes. Even with a new face and new figure, Zach remembered her. The best part was that the innate form of Hera, in comparison to June Herald, had huge breasts. He couldn't wait to get home and give her the little bottle of Mnemosyne that Peter had packaged-up to help her recall her greater form.
>
  As he strode through the front doors of the office building, Zach held his head high and his shoulders back. He was wearing his Zach form a little taller, standing at six-foot-four, and he flashed a brilliant smile to the security guard at the desk. “I'm here to see Caleb Jacobs. He works on the thirty-seventh floor.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “He's my father,” Zach said.

  The guard picked up her phone and dialed a number. “I have a kid here saying his father is Mr. Jacobs. Can I send him up? Mmhmm. Alright, thank you.” She hung up the phone and looked back at Zach. “Take the elevator to your right. His office is 37B.”

  “Thanks,” Zach said.

  The interior of the spacious elevator was plated in mirrors. Zach saw himself from every angle. He stepped inside and pressed the button for the thirty-fourth floor, then turned to check out his reflection.

  The elevator stopped on floor seventeen to let a woman on. She was an older woman, tall and slim, wearing a pair of killer high heels and a no-nonsense pants suit. As she reached for the buttons, she saw that thirty-seven was already lit up and smiled at Zach. “A or B?”

  “Huh? Oh. B.”

  “You new?” she asked.

  “No,” Zach shook his head. “My Da—my father works up there.”

  She looked Zach over and nodded. “You look like him,” she said. “Caleb Jacobs, right?”

  Zach nodded. He remembered his manners and extended a hand. “Zach Jacobs.” She shook it.

  “I didn't know Caleb had any kids,” she said, turning back to look at the door. “He's never mentioned it.”

  “I live in Miami,” Zach said. “Olympia Heights…well, I did. I'm moving to Gainesville.”

  “College?”

  Zach nodded. “Yeah. Gonna be QB for the Gators.”

  The woman looked back at him. “I bet on the Gators,” she said. The door chimed and began to open. “Don't lose me any money this season.”