Children of Zeus

By Zimbell House Publishing, Sammi Cox, Linda M. Crate and 6 more

Ever wonder what life is like as a child of Zeus?
Eight storytellers ... nine tales ... let the chaos begin!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zimbell House Publishing
• Release date: Dec 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9781947210158

Zimbell House Publishing

Zimbell House Publishing is dedicated to promoting new writers. To enable us to do this, we create themed anthologies and send out a call for submissions. These calls are updated monthly, typically we have at least four months worth on our website at any given time. To see what we are working on next, please paste this link into your browser and save it to your bookmarks: http://zimbellhousepublishing.com/contest-submissions/ All submissions are vetted by our acquisitions team. By developing these anthologies, we can promote new writers to readers across the globe. We hope we've helped you find a new favorite to follow! Are you interested in helping a particular writer's career? Write a review and mention them by name. You can post reviews on our website, or through any retailer you purchased from.  Interested in becoming a published author? Check out our website for a look behind the scenes of what it takes to bring a manuscript to a published book. http://zimbellhousepublishing.com/publishing-services/process-behind-scenes/ We hope to hear from you soon.

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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. All characters appearing in this work are the product of the individual author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the written permission of the publisher.

For permission requests, write to the publisher:

Attention: Permissions Coordinator

Zimbell House Publishing, LLC

PO Box 1172

Union Lake, Michigan 48387

mail to: [e-mail]

© 2017 Zimbell House Publishing, LLC

Published in the United States by Zimbell House Publishing

All Rights Reserved

Trade Paper ISBN: 978-1-947210-13-4

Digital ISBN: 978-1-947210-15-8

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017918221

First Edition: December 2017

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Zimbell House Publishing

Union Lake

Acknowledgements

Zimbell House Publishing would like to thank all those that contributed to this anthology. We chose to showcase eight new voices that best represented our vision for this work.

We would also like to thank our Zimbell House team for all their hard work and dedication to these projects.

A Family Reunion

Sammi Cox

The thunder had raged overhead for three days now. The fact that it wasn’t accompanied by any other form of weather phenomenon such as lightning, strong winds or rain had puzzled weather forecasters, as had the apparent lack of warning. The conditions were not such as to create thunder, they commented. No change in temperature or atmospheric pressure had been detected. There weren’t even any dark clouds, said keen weather-watchers, scratching their heads. Then, after one bout of the heavens clashing, the circumstances didn’t seem to dissipate either, they just hovered, waiting before they sounded again.

On the one hand, Pandeia smiled. She liked the idea that these know-it-all scientists couldn’t explain something so simple. She could explain to them, in very basic terms, that the cause of it was supernatural, but they wouldn’t believe her.

But, on the other hand, all this thunder was bad news for her personally. Registering the truth of the matter, her smiled faded, and she sighed. It wasn’t easy being the immortal child of such lofty divine parents, especially when she was one about whom her father didn’t usually bother.

She lacked the muscle and the hero pedigree, as well as the wisdom and interest in war. Ares, Athena, Heracles, Perseus ... they were favored by Zeus, well if not in love, then attention, for short periods of time at least. It was more than Pandeia got; she was just ignored.

There was always her mother, of course, who was very motherly, but having well over fifty children herself, her time, energy and affection were spread considerably thin. Pandeia was the daughter of the moon goddess, Selene. As such, it was said that she was never meant to command anyone’s attention for longer than them to say, Oh my! Isn’t she beautiful and radiant like her mother? But how many times could a person say that? And why didn’t anyone want to look beyond it, at the personality behind the bright face?

It is worth mentioning at this point that she, Pandeia, was also a goddess of the moon in her own right but no-one seemed to remember that. Was it any wonder that Pandeia decided to seek her own way to spend eternity, as her parents often didn’t notice whether she was on Mount Olympus or not? She had chosen a life on Earth, living amongst mortals, over her divine and semi-divine family, only returning to its sanctuary when things got really tough.

At least I’ve always had Aunt Hecate, Pandeia consoled herself. She had always been close to the goddess of magic. Hecate was her mentor, friend, and often confidante.

Hecate spent many hours with Selene, along with Artemis when Pandeia was growing up. The three goddesses together were sort of a collective symbol of the moon, its phases, and its power.

Artemis was also quite well-disposed towards Pandeia. She was her older half-sister and believed that their father’s indifference towards her, stemmed from the fact that he, like everyone else, saw her as nothing more than a very pretty girl. What quickly becomes apparent when an Olympian speaks about his or her brothers and sisters is that family trees on Mount Olympus are very complex indeed.

Artemis taught her to use a bow, which was fun but turned out not very practical in this day and age. Of course, in times past it had helped her on a number of occasions when it was unremarkable to see a person carrying one. However, if she went about with one today, as the goddess of the hunt often encouraged, Pandeia would probably find herself under arrest for being in possession of a dangerous weapon!

With Artemis’ help, Pandeia could catch her own dinner, but Aunt Hecate had given her something much more valuable—the means to become independent. She had taught her all about magic and witchcraft, which turned out to be a lucrative, secure business through the ages. There was, of course, a hiccup or two along the way, but that passed. Pandeia hadn’t been home since those dark days of the witch hunts, and that, she got the distinct feeling, was why the heavens were banging about in a temper.

As if to prove the point, thunder pealed again in the sky overhead. It was really starting to get quite annoying, the goddess mused.

Well, for once it looks like I have Daddy’s attention.

The length between each deafening eruption of noise was also decreasing. That could only mean one thing, his patience was being to wane.

The doorbell chimed, disrupting Pandeia’s recollections. When she answered it, and saw who was standing on her doorstep, she groaned.

Well, that’s not the nicest way to greet your brother, especially after so long.

Half-brother, she muttered, glaring at Hermes. He was dressed in his usual get-up of ancient Greek peasant clothing with a wide-brimmed floppy hat on his head and a pair of winged sandals on his feet.

Just how long has it been? Two hundred and fifty years, give or take a decade?

Pandeia ignored the remark. As Messenger of the Gods, he could only be there for one purpose, to give her a message from her father. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and took a no-nonsense stance.

You can tell him I’m not interested. I’m busy.

He won’t like it.

He doesn’t have to. He just has to accept it.

My, Pandeia. I do believe that you have been living amongst these cheeky mortals for too long. Their behavior is starting to rub off on you.

A curtain twitched over at her neighbor’s house. Why did you have to use the front door? she snapped. Your get-up is causing a scene.

Worried about what that Nosy Parker next door is going to think?

It’s not what she thinks that’s the problem, Hermes. She’s the greatest gossip for fifty miles.

Well, you could have spared yourself this if you hadn’t insisted on ignoring Zeus.

Now he knows what it feels like. You can tell him that from me. Goodbye. Pandeia slammed the door and scurried back to the safety and comfort of her living room. She just wanted to go back to pretending that her immortal family didn’t exist, that she was an only child, given away at birth.

The living room was large, offering views of both the front and back gardens. From her sofa, Pandeia mused how long it would be before her next interruption arrived to spoil her day. Zeus would not have taken the news that she was determined to ignore him indefinitely very well at all.

As if on cue, the patch of grass outside the back window filled with a sparkling, dense mist. Momentarily distracted, she couldn’t help but wonder what the clever weather forecasters would make of its sudden appearance; whether they would be as baffled by it as they were by the thunder.

Then, slowly, she watched her father’s outline take shape. He was tall and broad, wearing a chiton of pure white, that fell almost to the floor. His dark brown hair fell in curly, majestic waves to his shoulders, and his beard matched. Everyone imagined his hair and beard to be gray or white—the color humankind liked to associate with wisdom. However, Zeus did not like to be portrayed as old. Wise, yes, but still youthful.

He stopped outside of the door. Aren’t you going to invite me in?

Why? You’re not a vampire.

Vampire?

Yes, you know, undead people with pointy teeth. Enjoy drinking blood.

I know what a vampire is, Pandeia. My question still stands.

You didn’t need an invitation to enter the garden.

Pandeia. It’s polite.

Please come in, father, she replied, her voice heavily laced with sarcasm. He either missed it or chose to ignore it.

Did you not hear me calling, Pandeia? the lofty voice boomed through the large room.

I think everyone heard you making a racket, father. Though, no, I never heard you call. That would involve you using words and actually speaking to me. Launching thunderbolts from the heavens can hardly be described as that.

He huffed. He walked the length of the living room, then turned and walked back to the center, where the big, comfy sofa full of scatter cushions was placed. The King of the Gods studied it for a moment, his brow creased.

Is this thing a dining couch? Am I supposed to recline upon it? Why can’t you have proper furniture, Pandeia?

Pandeia stifled a giggle. Is that what you’ve come to see me about? You don’t like my chosen fixtures and fittings?

Of course not! he snapped. Pandeia wondered if the sofa could have really confused him that much.

Then what is it you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?

He looked around. No.

Well, I am.

What is it that you actually do down here?

Mind your own business. Now, what do you want?

I’m not having this conversation here. Come home at once, and we shall discuss matters.

What, Earth not good enough for you? I seem to recall you once being quite fond of it ... if the company suited ... She winked at her godly father.

He scowled back.

You always were a difficult child, Pandeia.

I seem to remember that you were an inconsiderate, self-absorbed parent. She paused for a moment before proceeding. That felt good. You really should drop in more often for another impromptu therapy session. I know this one has done me a world of good, she said rolling her eyes.

Zeus’ face clouded. You have until sunset to get to Mount Olympus. I will wait no longer. After that ... well, you will have brought it on yourself.

With that, the Father of the Gods turned away and stomped off, fading from sight as he did so.

But at least the thunder had stopped.

It took a moment for Pandeia to stop staring at the space her father had been, all the while wondering what could be so urgent. She went and made herself a cup of tea and thought on what would have driven Zeus to seek her out and insist she returns home.

Today.

In the end, she acknowledged that there was only one way she was going to find out—by doing what she had been told and getting herself to Mount Olympus before the sun went down.

AS PANDEIA PUT THE finishing touches to her outfit—she was going to have to ditch her day-to-day dress, usually a pair of skinny jeans and floaty tunic top, and stick to the Mount Olympus dress code—she thanked her lucky stars that her boyfriend was away on business. He wasn’t due home until the following day, and Pandeia hoped she would have time to get to the palace and home again without him being any the wiser. Of course, he didn’t know who she really was or where she came from; relationships were complicated enough without throwing words such as ‘divine’ and ‘immortal’ into the mix.

Looking in the full-length mirror in her dressing room she pulled a face. It had been centuries since she had dressed in a peplos. She played around with the folds in the long material until they sat just right, and pinned it at the shoulders with brooches that were older than most artifacts found in museums. Around her waist, a jeweled girdle kept the fabric in place. Her hair fell in golden waves down her back and over her shoulders, while a diadem that matched the girdle sat upon her head. Having lived with mortals for millennia and having to conform to their fashion, she couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable, over-dressed and very showy.

After a few more minutes of fiddling, she decided she couldn’t put it off any longer. It was time to go.

The sooner I get there, the sooner I get to come back home, she said to herself. It didn’t make her feel any better about her visit though.

She went downstairs and out into the garden, following the path that Zeus had taken only hours before. The mist descended, and her lawn and flowerbeds faded away to be replaced with marble, and plenty of it. Marble floors, marbles walls, marble columns, marble steps.

In the time it had taken for her to walk the length of her garden, she found herself in Zeus’ palace on Mount Olympus, and it was teeming with people. It was teeming with family.

What is going on? Pandeia mumbled under her breath. She hadn’t been led to believe, by either her father or Hermes, that something special was going on. Tucking the worrying thought away at the back of her mind that she might have been expected to bring a gift for whoever all this was in honor of, she ignored everyone she passed. She was only distantly related to most of these people, after all, and made a bee-line for the throne room.

Zeus was sitting on his white marble throne; Pandeia’s step-mother and Queen of the Gods, Hera, was occupying her own throne next to him. The throng had thinned in here, but it was by no means empty.

I like what you’ve done with the place, Pandeia called out as she walked in. When in doubt and not wishing to feel like she was on the back foot, she often reverted to sarcasm. This place hadn’t changed in millennia.

Pandeia! I will not tolerate this insolence— Zeus began, but he was cut-off mid-sentence by his wife.

I distinctly remember telling you that if you willfully neglect your children, you cannot be surprised if they decide to back-chat you. Hera stepped down from her throne and crossed the marble floor to where her step-daughter was standing. She threw her arms around Pandeia, pulling her close. Hera always had a bad reputation for hating her step-children, but on the whole, this wasn’t true. She had always been kind towards Pandeia. We’ve missed you.

You might have, but the rest of us hadn’t even noticed she had gone. That was Ares, as friendly and diplomatic as ever. He was leaning up against a marble column, feigning boredom.

Out of all my relations, I do believe I hate you the most. Pandeia scowled at her half-brother.

Ignore him. Ignore them all. And excuse your father. You know what he’s like. I suppose you’re wondering why you were summoned here with such ... urgency. It wasn’t a question, but Pandeia answered anyway.

The thought had crossed my mind, once or twice.

Well, you see, a small problem has arisen, and we could really use your help with it.

Immediately Pandeia grew suspicious and looked around the throne room. Anyone who was anyone on Mount Olympus—which of course, was everyone who lived there—could be found leaning up against marble pillars, reclining upon elegantly carved wooden seats or sprawled across stone benches. Pandeia wasn’t really interested in the view, or who was present. She was playing for time. She had no idea what sort of problem they could have which only she could help them with. She found the very notion baffling.

I’m not sure what you mean, she finally said.

As bright as ever, Athena commented. It’s obvious why you’re here. It’s obvious why we’re all here.

That’s not very helpful, dear, Hera chided gently, before returning her attention to Pandeia. We’ll discuss it further after dinner. Don’t trouble yourself about it. Just enjoy being home for a little while first.

The problem was, she didn’t enjoy being home. It didn’t feel like her home and never had. The best decision she believed she had ever made was choosing to live amongst mortals rather than having to put up with her rather extensive and