Lightning crackled in my eyes and jumped around my fists. ❝Zeus is fallen. I am Hercules. I stand in his place.❞
The giantess snorted, leering down at me, yellow teeth like bricks. ❝Another dead hero.❞
❝Yes. But not today.❞
...
Ahead the Fairway loomed--a handsome building with several stories of decadent riccoco architecture. The light pink molding was intricate work, shaped by fine hands that told a story of flowers and cherubs. Once more I thought of Eros, eyes stinging as I straightened the neck of my tuxedo.
"You are distracted," Erytheia mused. We strolled a wide walkway lined by neatly trimmed bushes. Her fingers grazed the plants as we passed; flowers unfurled in her wake. The purple flowers were iridescent as her foiled gown.
"The Fates said I must be selfish--how else do you learn the incentive to survive? I passed the test. I left Eros behind."
"You had no choice," Erytheia coolly replied, pausing as I turned to face her. "It is foolish to trust the Fates." She straightened my bow tie and smoothed the shoulders of my suit. "The old hags spin webs and we fall right into them."
"I am sure they know more than they let on--but I am also sure they were telling the truth. When I stop the general we will lose the mountain."
"Olympus was lost when your brother took the crown. Flames destroy, Hercules, but they also purify. Let the mountain be cleansed--and your conscience." She walked on. Hands in my pockets, I lingered. I could not let my conscience go.
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"I've already checked. You're not on the list." The uppity young staff didn't bother glancing at the clipboard in his hands.
"The general is expecting us." Erytheia pressed her palms on his podium and leaned forward. "Let us in. Your arm muscles are weak--the fight would not be fair."
He looked to me for confirmation. "Is she serious?"
I shrugged. "Ask Pompeii."
The staff ground his jaw, then spoke in his nasally tone. "I've had enough. I'm calling secur--"
Erytheia punched him in the nose and he fell back, clutching his bleeding face. The guests gasped in shock as we strolled into the ballroom, arm in arm.
Erytheia surveyed the gathering in disappointment. "They call this music? It's as dry as the crowd."
"Remember, the plan is to call his attention--not to kill, or main. Or disfigure."
She smirked. "As you wish, Basileus."
"Lead the way."
The guests were the highbrows of Harbor Village. It wasn't hard earning their stares and whispers. Soon enough, we had turned the place into a brothel.
We robbed the staff their platters of shrimp cocktail and caviar. We drank too much at the bar. An as we danced a rowdy version of the kalamatianos on the dance floor, the crowd turned up their noses.
"Another round!" Erytheia bellowed, toasting a baffled circle of gentleman.
I snatched a drink from a passing waiter, raised it high, downed the glass, then smashed it upon the floor.
