Curator of the Gods

By Christopher Clouser

The gods of Olympus ARE in Central Indiana.

Held captive by a vindictive master and a magical curse.  The gods freedom may be on the horizon if their current master does not find a beneficiary to continue the grotesque family tradition.

The unsuspecting heir is Jordan Caster, a young black man. He has been thrown into the chaotic world of Greek deities.  Jordan is forced to address the issue of becoming a slave owner, albeit to the most powerful beings on the planet, or granting the gods freedom and inviting their undeniable vengeance upon his family line. 

The choice becomes more complex when Jordan realizes not all the Olympians wish to leave this hidden paradise.  He begins to question his own beliefs as his emotions weave their way into the fate of the gods.  Will Jordan grant them freedom and risk personal safety?  Will Jordan continue this bizarre tradition of the Caster clan, oversee the most unique living museum in the world, and retain the title of curator of the gods?  Or will Jordan find more than he could have hoped?  Possibly, even a future among the Olympians.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Clouser
• Release date: Jul 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223481492

Book preview

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to acknowledge the help of friends like Leigh Barrett, Crystal Morrison, Isabel Riordan, Carolyn Weiss, and the other members of the Fishers Library Writers Group.

Thanks go out to others that have been an encouragement during the process of making this book come together, including all of the agents that turned me down.

The Pantheon of Greek Gods

Zeus, the Thunderer – Lord of the gods of Olympus.  God of the sky that also controls time and weather.  Was only child not swallowed by Cronus, his father, and freed his siblings to take his place as the leader of the gods.

Hera, the Right Hand – Queen of the gods and wife of Zeus.  Goddess of marriage, women, and childbirth.

Poseidon, the Trident – Brother of Zeus.  God of the sea, earthquakes, and horses.

Demeter, the Gardener – Sister of Zeus. Goddess of nature, the harvest, and the seasons.

Athena, the Owl – Daughter of Zeus (spawned from his mind).  Goddess of knowledge, wisdom, crafts, and strategic warfare.

Apollo, the Physician – Son of Zeus and Leto, twin of Artemis.  God of the sun, light, medicine, the arts, and prophecy.  Favorite instrument is the lyre.

Artemis, the Huntress – Daughter of Zeus and the goddess Leto, twin sister of Apollo.  Goddess of the moon, the hunt, archery, protection, and virginity.

Ares, the Warrior – Son of Zeus and Hera.  God of war and violence.

Hephaestus, the Tinkerer – Son of Zeus and Hera.  Husband of Aphrodite.  God of the forge, craftsmanship, fire, and volcanoes.

Aphrodite, the Lover – Aunt of Zeus, wife of Hephaestus, and mistress of Ares.  Goddess of love, fertility, passion, and beauty.

Hermes, the Messenger – Son of Zeus and Maia. Messenger of the Gods.  God of commerce, travel, thieves, and games.

Dionysus, the Drunkard – Son of Zeus and Semele and youngest of the gods.  God of wine, festivity, madness, and the theatre.

Hestia, the Old Woman – Eldest sister of Zeus.  Goddess of the hearth, family, and domesticity.  Relinquished her spot as an Olympian to save Dionysus.

Hades, the Big Man from Down Under – Brother of Zeus.  Lord of the Underworld and god of the dead, riches, and precious metals.

Calypso, the Witch – Daughter of Atlas and minor goddess of magic.  Betrayed the gods and goddesses in their war with the Titans.  Was sentenced to banishment on the small island of Ogygia.

Prologue

1869 – Southeast United States

The sylvan woodland was smaller than Athena remembered from her prior visit with the colonists nearly a century before.  The populace had grown quickly in that time and the hardwood trees had paid the price from the increased demand for resources; the virgin forests had slowly disappeared from the landscape.  This locale reflected the nation that had become the goddess’ new home, the latest center of Western civilization. 

As she ran through the forest, the trees rushed by like wooden soldiers marching in perfect alignment.  The pursuit had lasted three days and she was exhausted, an abnormality for a goddess of her stature.  Fortunately, she knew this part of the woods in rural Georgia from previous visits.  She was only a few miles from the city named for her, Athens.  If she could reach that sacred city, her formidability would increase by a sizable magnitude and regret would be just one of the feelings the pests chasing her would experience.

The thick natural air of the woods contained the summer day’s humidity.  It clung to everything as sweat dripped down Athena’s back and through her attire; her porous clothing weighed twice its normal mass.  She regretted the choice of wool and had neither the time nor the energy to magically alter her wardrobe.  Mud, moss, and several other coagulant materials clung to her body.  The dense forest also left a physical mark, a bloody scratch from a stray tree branch ran across her face as a reminder of her trial.  Even her best attempts at escape had not deterred the two-legged hounds on her trail; the stalker was better than any she had previously encountered.  Athena had a strong suspicion of the hunter’s identity and narrowed it to two contenders; one would block out the sun and the other was her sister.  Her fine-tuned mind exhausted all other explanations as she struggled with this logical conclusion, something unusual for her.  She wondered if her sister would betray her, then remembered that she was a goddess of Olympus; trust was not a valuable commodity amongst her family. 

Through the trees, the goddess spotted one of the individuals following her when the perpetrator peeked from behind a large sycamore.  Of course, it was a male.  He wore muddied denim pants and a brown leather coat drenched in perspiration.  His stench was palpable from a quarter mile.  She took an inventory of his apparent weaponry, a pearl-handled gun on his right side, probably a revolver, and a rifle strapped to his back.  This male was the ugliest mortal she could recall, a scar dominated the right side of his face and exposed half of his eye, to the point one wondered how it stayed in the socket.  His thin, dark motley hair hung loosely from his head and a crooked nose ruined any redeeming qualities of the countenance.  Athena knew this primitive did not track her, that task was beyond his capabilities.

Her nemesis, the skilled huntress, was hidden somewhere in the dense botanical landscape.  She peered through the scenery scanning for the faintest hint of the predator with no luck.  She expected nothing less from the one she suspected.  The Huntress was too talented to be noticed by the naked eye, even that of a goddess of Olympus.  The moment of glory, a time of delicate balance in the forested arena, had arrived; the next move would tip the scale of victory in either direction. 

The primal man sensed it and broke the silence, You should stop running.  It will be much easier if you surrender, goddess.  He needed reassurance they were still on the trail, something his partner did not require.

Athena rolled her immortal icy blue eyes and thought, I will kill this indignant mortal for this embarrassment.

She scooted to the other side of a black walnut sentinel for shelter from her foes and, with fatal intentions, pulled a magical blade from her boot.  Her next move would deliver the enchanted knife to the man’s skull and eliminate one of her problems.  The plan was foiled in the next second when she heard the thump of an arrow hitting its target, her.  Next, she felt the intense pain from the unexpected projectile drilling into her exposed arm.  Though not her first injury over the last three days, it was the most perilous.  Based on her ample experience, nearly six millennia of it, she handled the vexing problem in three seconds by snapping the fletching off the top and pulling the arrow through her arm without emitting a sound.  The wound looked grotesque as her golden blood flowed, but it would eventually heal. 

Athena looked at the offending weapon that had penetrated her skin, no normal arrow could do this.  The silver yew shaft was coated in golden ichor, her lifeblood.  This arrow glistened like the moon and was much different from what any mortal archer’s quiver would hold.  Her suspicions had been confirmed, she now knew for certain who chased her and felt fear for the first time in over a thousand years.  On top of that, her appendage was unusable for the short-term.  She was a one-armed sitting duck in the middle of a forest without options.  Distraction was her last hope against her opponents if she wanted to escape.  Salvation required a transformation to get away from the intense huntress, even for a short time. 

Her location already known, Athena yelled, How did you find me?  She stalled while regaining the strength in her arm.  Getting the gruesome male to talk was her best prospect to provide her more precious time.

She crawled silently and slowly and shimmied beneath a nearby hedgerow.  The needles from the flora stung, but she had to suffer through the prickling agony to execute her departure.  The bush provided additional benefit by hiding Athena; even her sister could not see through solid objects.

The man yelled back, We have tracked you for a few months!  You were hard to find so we laid low until the goddess picked up your scent.  She’s fiercer than a bloodhound and does not stop once she is on your trail.  But don’t worry Athena, once this is over we will have the entire set and you will be reunited with your family.  The complete pantheon, as the old geezer put it.

The crack of a random stick from the distance screamed in the silent wilderness, an explosion of noise from the opposite direction of the mortal male.  It had to be the goddess of the hunt.  Athena wondered whether it was an error or a clever trick to flush her from the bush.  She ruled out the possibility of a mistake.  Perhaps if it was Orion, but not the virgin goddess.  Her sister was too skilled.  Then the words from the man replayed in her mind as he goaded her into surrender through his blustery comments. 

Capturing the others was impossible.  She thought of the lengths these marauders must have gone through to accomplish such a task.  Athena panicked knowing she would never be able to rest, if he was truthful.  The goddess required another distraction to shift from her current location and have any chance for exodus. 

Athena yelled at the man, You could never capture all of them.  You are lying!  She revealed her location to her sister once again, so quick movements were essential to avoid capture from this point forward.

The mortal was quite confident and replied, We have the Thunderer, the Trident, even your uncle from down under. 

She gathered herself and wondered, How did they capture him?  Could they have gone there?  And returned?

The mortal was her ticket to freedom.  If she could capture him there may be hesitation from the archer and allow her to gain the upper hand.  She crawled on the forest floor toward the oppressive smell of the crude man.  Then two options occurred to her, take him prisoner or scale the tree and fly away.  She asked herself, Could I get up the tree before an attack?  She knew the answer but the risk was warranted.  Her arm had recovered enough in the moments to attempt the hazardous plan.  Then another arrow bored into the tree three feet above her head.  The huntress was playing with her.  Athena’s delay forced her hand.  Her option was now singular, use the mortal as a shield.

Athena flashed toward the mortal and the trap enmeshed her before she could respond.  Athena tried to transform into her sacred animal, the owl, as a last-ditch effort, but the cage surrounded her.  She was caught in one of the oldest traps in history, a falconer’s snare. 

How did they know to set the device in this specific location?  The man knew exactly where to stand to draw her out of hiding.  Clearly, the trap had been set here and the pursuit was a ruse to bring the goddess to this exact location.  They had distracted her while placing her exactly where they desired.  Athena realized her error too late and her pride had betrayed her.  She marveled at the ingenuity and forethought involved in the actual trap.  She had been defeated by superior intellect, the gravest of loses for the goddess of wisdom.

Athena yelled, I know you are out there huntress.  At least show your face, traitor!  Why would you betray your family?

The man jovially laughed as he hovered out of Athena’s reach.  He spit some chewing tobacco juice to the side and mocked her, You were supposed to be smart.  The Old Lady took longer to catch.  But, I guess you get points for being last.

The prisoner looked at her arm, still trickling with golden blood, godly ichor.  She asked, Can I at least tend my wounds?

He petulantly answered her question, Later.  My question to you is quietly, or the hard way?  I prefer quietly for a change.  None of you have picked that one yet.

Before he blinked, Athena fired a bronze knife that was hidden on the back of her belt.  An arrow knocked it from the air in mid-flight and a slight breeze from the passing projectile floated past the man’s face and moved his stringy hair.  His grimace contorted into a smile as the goddess glared at his gruesome countenance and then both looked to where the arrow had launched from.  The virgin goddess was just ten feet away, ready to fire another volley if needed.

The Huntress coldly added, I knew you would try that sister.  Don’t do it again, or next time I will shoot you in the leg.

It was the first time Athena had seen Artemis in nearly three centuries.  The younger goddess looked as pure as freshly fallen snow and barely old enough to be of legal age in the mortal world.  Her youthful appearance belied her true years, a number only known by the two of them and their kindred.  Her supple hands held the bow and arrow with precision while her curled golden locks lightly moved about her shoulders in the subtle breeze.  The only thing Athena noticed were the intense silver eyes of Artemis.  They revealed her determination, rage, and desire to finish her task, a look few ever saw twice.  Otherwise, Artemis blended perfectly with the scenery due to her enchanted jerkin.

The man laughed loudly and pulled out a black box with a red button on it.  He looked at his prisoner and said, Looks like the hard way.  He pushed the button and a jolt of energy shot through the filament wires of the snare, forcing his prisoner to her knees as unmatched power coursed through her body.  Not even Zeus could cause this much pain. 

The man leaned over Athena and sneered, That was courtesy of the Tinkerer.  He doesn’t know why we wanted him to build it yet.

The woman looked at the huntress through the black spots floating across her field of vision and asked, Why sister?

The man answered tersely, Ogygia, bitch.

He glared at the Huntress and ordered, Put her down.

The Huntress raised her bow above her head and crashed it across the neck of her prey.  The last sound Athena heard that day sounded like a cantaloupe being smashed and her world went black as she fell to the forest floor. 

The man reached down and put a gilded ring on one of the goddess’s fingers.  The ring featured a gold circle containing the symbol of an owl.  He looked at the Huntress and barked her orders, Drag her back to the wagon.  We need to catch the next train north.

The man went to kick their prize. 

Artemis pushed him and threatened, Do not touch her again.  You are not worthy.  Go to the carriage and wait for my arrival.  My orders were clear; capture and return with Athena.  You are optional.  Do not cross me mortal.

The man snickered and said over his shoulder as he walked away, Whatever you say Artemis.  You vestal virgins are the most uptight wenches.  You just need a good uncorking.

An arrow flew past his head and nicked his ear.  He grabbed his lobe instantaneously and yelled in pain.  He turned toward the archer.  He knew an aggressive reaction would be his last act; he would be on his back with an arrow through his skull before withdrawing the revolver on his hip.  A fate bestowed on his former partner during the previous hunt with the archer. 

The man raised his arms in submission and walked back to the horse-drawn wagon at the edge of the forest while applying pressure to stop the bleeding.  He took solace in the payday waiting for him in Indiana. He vowed to take a piece of skin from the bow-wielding wench someday.  For now, he had to get to the family manor and put the captured monster to work, a penance well overdue.

1

Today - Indianapolis, Indiana

The woman, apparently in her mid-twenties, sprinted through the second floor of the J. W. Marriott, the JW to the locals, avoiding the meandering people in her way.  She glimpsed at the baseball stadium across the street through the large second-story picture window and saw her ride, a red sports car, waiting for her on the street below.  The escalator would be too slow, she jumped onto the aluminum divider between the two moving stairs and slid down to the first level.  As she approached the end of the escalator, she pressed down with both feet and shot into the air performing a perfect front pike and landing like a master gymnast to the amazement of all in the lobby of the hotel.  Not waiting for their adoring applause, the woman turned and ran to the exit in the southeast corner of the building, fully aware of the timing required in her escape from the black-glass obelisk on the downtown skyline.  She felt rushed and her patience was thin, both a by-product of the wicked affliction of this modernity, the pace of life.

The driving rain and wind attacked her face like tiny needles as she emerged to the outside world, but she was intent on finishing strong.  She leapt from the door down to the sidewalk, almost twenty feet, and darted directly toward the crosswalk for Maryland Street.  She hit the crossing light perfectly and received the walk signal as a reward.  She ran toward the awaiting Bugatti, jumped across the top of the automobile, slid off the other side, and hopped into the passenger seat in a stunning display of athleticism. 

Before getting buckled, she pointed up to the enclosed crosswalk above the intersection and said to the driver, There he is.  Do not lose him.

Jordan Caster was the everyman.  He worked daily as a Hospitality Manager for a large hotelier in downtown Indianapolis, drove to his occupation, parked in the same garage every day, and minded his own business.  The less people noticed him the more he enjoyed his existence.  Jordan focused on his life and chose the ordinary; the mundane was comfortable for him.  On this day, like many days before, Jordan headed to lunch with his best friend Simon Pesce at the food court in the Circle Center Mall.  Simon was one of the few companions Jordan had in his life and was part of the routine. 

Jordan exited the JW on the west end of downtown Indianapolis with the rain plummeting the pavement in sheets.  He traversed the indoor walkway, a hamster tube for humans, across downtown toward the mall.  Jordan walked in the elevated tunnel from the JW to the Convention Center.  As he crossed Maryland Street his eyes spotted the red sports car slowly heading east through the intersection.  It was a rarity to see a Bugatti in Indianapolis, let alone on a rainy day.  Jordan nodded his head and gave his silent approval of the choice vehicle to whomever was behind the wheel, as if they would notice. 

Jordan continued through the Convention Center until he reached the elevated path over Capital Avenue.  Once again, the Bugatti caught his eye.  He silently thought, That car is crawling through downtown.  It must be the stoplight patterns.  He continued his trek into the Circle Center Mall then turned left on the main concourse and walked toward the food court.  He found his friend standing in line at Taco Bell, undoubtedly with the same order as the previous day.  Jordan jumped in behind Simon and waited to place his order, likewise a repeat.  Just another ordinary day in the life of Jordan Caster.

Following Jordan in the Bugatti were two beings, not people; they were more.  These two were tasked with finding Jordan Caster, following him, and delivering an invitation when the opportunity presented itself.  The target was easily located due to the information provided by their supervisor.  The one conundrum was that these two had opposing viewpoints on surveillance. 

They both watched from the vehicle as Jordan crossed the last elevated tunnel and entered the Circle Center Mall.  When the stoplight turned green they quickly veered left across three lanes of traffic to park in the underground garage beneath the shopping center.  They were forced to continue their appointed task inside the hub of human activity, a possibility the woman hoped to avoid.  The man looked forward to the excursion, like a tourist on a cruise ship. 

The Bugatti pulled into the first available parking spot and the driver exclaimed, I do not see what the problem is with driving in a little style.  This Bugatti is one of the finest driving machines ever made.  It’s even better than that thing your brother has in the garage at home.

The woman sitting next to him refused to take her eyes off her target, sensing Jordan through brick, mortar, and steel without seeing him.  She did not blink and concentrated on her assignment as she replied, He spotted us.  I told you to bring something mid-sized and black to blend in with every third car on the road.  Your flashiness alerted him to our presence.  We wanted to stay hidden until the precise moment we needed to appear.  And you can tell my brother about your snide remark when you see him.

Her partner laughed, "You know he still calls you his little sister, right?  Don’t you get it?  This is genius.  He would never think someone driving this automobile would ever be interested in him.  I saw him nod at the car the first time he saw it.  He likes this ride.  His world is ordinary and the last eventuality he believes will ever happen is that someone in this car would be interested in him.  Unless he’s paranoid, like a certain deity of wine we know.  That guy thinks everyone is interested in him, but not in a good way."

They settled into the parking spot and she grabbed the keys from the steering column and declared, I will drive next time.  And he is paranoid, so leave him alone.  He is on the spectrum. 

He retorted, Fine, but if you want to drive maybe you should get a driver’s license.

The two removed themselves from the automobile and walked to the nearest escalator.  The woman pressed the third button on the remote and armed the car protection system with a satisfying beep.  No one would mess with this car if they knew what defenses it contained.  As the two companions walked away, she hit the fourth button on the remote twice.  The vehicle flashed a brilliant light and a black Honda Accord replaced the Bugatti. 

The man looked over his shoulder and replied, Come on!  That car was so hot!  And did you notice that I parked in the Moon garage?  Just for you sweetheart.

Quiet, we need to get to the food court.  He has a lunch meeting, so we have a lunch meeting.  And if you call me sweetheart again, I will skewer your left ear with this.  She held up a silver arrow and her companion backed away.

Jordan and his friend, Simon, sat diagonally from each other at a combination of two small tables with four chairs.  They were a modern-day odd couple.  Jordan was a black man dressed neatly with a tight haircut and a toned physique, the form associated with a millennial business man.  Simon