The Rise of Artemis: The Cult of Artemis Bailey, #1

By David Parker-Ross

The Rise of Artemis : The Golden Age Edition

A Goddess, A Mortal Man, A Shared Destiny .... If only they can survive it.

Alex Bailey is a divorced single dad of a pair of teenagers, struggling to find more in his life than the daily grind. Between long hours at work and a toxic ex, he doesn't have much time to worry about anything other than how to make ends meet. However, his life is about to change when he stumbles upon a stunning naked woman in the streets.

Artemis has always been known as the Goddess of the Hunt amongst many of her titles: harsh, wild, mysterious, and often vengeful. She's also been stuck in the abyss for two thousand years when she gets thrown into the streets of suburban Chicago. Suddenly, Artemis, who has always been self-sufficient and powerful, has to rely on the help of an ordinary human.

But just as Alex and Artemis start to develop feelings for each other, the other gods return, demanding Artemis aid them in their conquest of the world. As Alex gets ready to make the ultimate sacrifice for the woman he loves, Artemis has to decide whether to join her brethren in battle or fight for a life with him.

***

Join Alex and Artemis in the Cult of Artemis, an exhilarating and funny urban fantasy romance filled with mythology, love, and adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tairis Anders Media LLC
• Release date: Jan 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9781959138211

Book preview

The Rise of Artemis

The Golden Age Edition

David Parker-Ross

Tairis Anders Media, LLC

The Rise of Artemis: The Golden Age Edition

ISBN

E-Book 978-1-959138-21-1

Paperback 978-1-959138-22-8

DavidParkerRoss.com

Facebook.com\DavidParkerRoss

The Rise of Artemis © 2022 David Parker-Ross

The Rise of Artemis – The Golden Age Edition © 2022 David Parker-Ross

All rights reserved.

Also by David Parker-Ross

All Titles Available on Audio

Perceptions Season 1 The Rise of Jenna Plural

Jenna Plural Wants You

That Girl from Wagga

Walking in Her Shadow

Awakening of Hannah Grant

The Angel of Phobos

Memoir of a Martian

The Amazon Chronicles

Miss Eve and the City of Men

Contents

Rebirth

1.A Naked Encounter

2.Artemis and Underwear

3.Of Dogs and Goddesses

4.Lessons in Being Mortal

5.Parenting - Ancient Greek Style

6.Katie and Artemis

7.Trinity, Texas

8.Handmaidens

9.The Return of Apollo

10.Revolution

11.The Taming of Artemis

12.Greece or Bust

13.Artemis Unbound

14.Sacrifice and Reconciliation

15.The Stag of Artemis

16.Ladies Night

17.Weddings and Warfare

18.Oracle of Athena

19.Assassins and Smackdowns

20.Veteran’s Day

Epilogue

Rebirth

Artemis

Pain sliced through my very core. It was a pure, unadulterated sensation, and it was like Elysium to me. It was not that I was any kind of masochist, far from it. It was simply that I was aware of something again, which could only mean that I was alive!

It was not even the normal pain of a damaged and mutilated body.

I had no body.

I could not see.

I could not hear.

I could not smell.

I felt nothing except for the pain and the awareness that I existed. I was unsure how long I remained that way, a day, a year, or a century. Time was meaningless.

I had to concentrate, to channel what little power I had left to create a form. I was certain if I worked at it, I could regain shape and become whole again.

I had patience, infinite patience, and began to mold my thoughts into that one goal.

My sight came back first but brought no great pleasure. As if amid the mass of a thousand suns, a light burned so bright that I saw nothing else. I still had no eyes to close, so I could not shut it out. For an eternity or so, I just despaired. With a new determination, I continued onward with my plans.

Eventually, I was able to hear. There was nothing but silence. However, it was comforting that I knew I was able to. I then channeled everything I had into a body. It was hard and tiring, and each time, I exhausted my consciousness with the effort before I got even close. I never gave up, however. My determination thrived on the challenge, and I believed I was getting closer with each attempt.

Then, one day, everything exploded. It was like a pressure valve was released. I felt myself falling through the air, glorious air, rushing past me at tremendous speed. Then, I hit the ground with a dull, sickening thud and remained face down.

My eyes were tightly shut, and I did not move. I did not want to move, no, not yet. I wanted to enjoy all the other sensations first. The air was cold, positively frigid against my skin.

Bliss.

I knew I was somewhere at the edge of winter. Beneath me, the ground was hard, uneven, and wet. Small pinpricks of gravel cut into my naked skin. I savored the chill, biting air, the icy puddles of water burning my flesh, and the stones’ discomfort.

Sounds unlike any I had heard before met my ears. Loud, unnatural noises that I could not imagine, no matter how I tried. Then there were the smells, like burning oil, thick, noxious fumes that made me want to retch.

It was pure Elysium.

Slowly, I turned my head to one side and laid it back down. Carefully and with some trepidation at what I might see, I opened my eyes. It was night, and a pool of water beside me reflected a bizarre light I had not witnessed before. I raised my head, and the first sound that emanated from me, Artemis Agrotera, in several millennia was a surprised gasp as I took in my surroundings.

I was by a bridge, yet it did not span a river or stream. It spanned a road and horseless carriages that bore strange lights and moved down it at unbelievable speeds.

I slowly tested my limbs, ensuring I remembered how to use them. As I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, a mass of red fibers fell in front of my face, and I chuckled as I realized it was my hair. It had neither been red nor this long before. I gently touched it with the back of my hand, and it obediently rose back up and tied itself into a neat tail that rested upon my shoulder. I glanced at the color tail and frowned. Red! Hmm, I like it. Red it is, I muttered to myself in my ancient tongue.

I knelt upright, looked at my hands, and removed all the dirt and water from them with a gentle shake. Finally, I stood up and looked down at myself, Two arms, two legs, and I’m still a woman, thankfully. I looked about, becoming aware of my nakedness. This was most certainly not an appropriate state to return to the world, and I slunk back into the shadows by the bridge’s wall as I tried to summon a garment. I failed, for I was still weakened from my exertions.

The bridge was strange, albeit arched in a similar design to the Roman aqueducts. However, it was daubed with foreign hieroglyphs of the brightest colors I had ever seen. Across the road was a vast building at least three stories high, but it was no temple. There were no intricate carvings upon it. It was a bland, dull grey and did not feed the eyes. Maybe the Romans had fallen upon hard times, I considered.

I looked across the graveled area where I stood. One of the horseless carriages sat dead, neither lit nor making a sound. I started to approach it. A carriage with glass windows! I could not believe the four small wheels would pull the weight of all the iron above them. It was like a block, except it was lower at the front and the back. I was about to look inside when what sounded like a rumble of thunder rang out overhead. Startled, I looked up at the bridge and saw many large iron boxes with windows and strange lights moving across the bridge. Even more bizarre, I saw people sitting or walking around inside it. My mind was a mass of confusion, and I felt what I imagined was fear for the first time in my entire existence.

This was not the world as I knew it. It was so alien. I had seen the Greeks and the Romans reach many great achievements, but nothing like this. The row of iron boxes stopped, and I saw people getting out. I slipped back into the shadows until I heard the boxes moving again. Then, all fell silent. I bit my lip and pondered my next move. I could sense none of the others had returned. Could I make it alone in a world of mortals? It did not seem likely, given I was standing naked without knowing how to even cover myself.

A series of crunches on the wet gravel made me look back towards the black carriage, where I saw a man heading towards it. He was quite old, possibly in his mid-thirties, and wore the oddest attire. A long black-sleeved cloak and stranger still his skirt was sleeved. He was whistling an unknown tune with a strange melody, and from his pocket, he drew out what appeared to be a set of what appeared to be minuscule keys. He then pointed one at the carriage, and it came to life! It lit up and made a brief but high-pitched sound. Then he walked around to the left and opened the door. Curiosity overcame my doubts, and I slowly walked towards it as he climbed in and shut the door. I stayed behind him so he could not see me. No man had ever laid eyes upon my naked form before. Well, none that lived to tell the tale of it. Of course, I could always kill him later should he see me. No, I wanted to know more about this carriage and the people who rode within them, and this mortal may be able to give me the answers….

Chapter one

A Naked Encounter

Alex

It was late. I hated working late even more than I hated the daily grind of my boring job, and to cap off my mood, my train from Chicago had been late, too.

So it was in a raw mood that I climbed into my Buick. I slipped the keys into the ignition with a sigh, but I refrained from turning it over. Instead, I reached into the compartment between the seats and pulled out a crumpled pack of Marlboros. Withdrawing a bent cigarette, I straightened it before placing it between my lips and fumbled in my raincoat pockets to find a lighter. The first one didn’t work, so I tossed it onto the back seat, where various unwanted items gathered, and I sought another. Finally, I was able to light the damn smoke and drew hard on it, inhaling deeply and releasing it with a satisfied sigh. It was only then I turned over the key and started the car. The cigarette hung from my mouth as I shoved the stick into reverse. It was only then that I saw her. As my eyes went up to my mirror, my jaw dropped, and the cigarette fell from my lips.

A redhead stood behind my car. Not your average redhead, for her hair was a deeper shade than was the norm, yet still appeared natural. She was beautiful enough to turn many a head, even if it was not because she was standing there as naked as a newborn baby. She had pale skin with small pert breasts. Her head was tilted slightly, and the long blood-red hair hung down to her elbow on her left side, tied into a ponytail. She examined my car with a frown that implied I was the odd one here.

I screamed. No, not because of the naked redhead but because the cigarette, having burnt through my cheap suit trousers, was now burning into my upper thigh. This caused me to look away and slap at my lap. I flicked the offending object onto the floor with a string of profanity and stamped upon it, fortunately having the presence of mind not to lift my other foot from the brake and hit my peculiar visitor. When I looked up in the mirror again, she had either gone, or I had imagined it.

I sat momentarily, just staring into the mirror. Maybe it was the lack of sex since my divorce that was making me imagine things. But why a redhead? That was not my particular taste. Maybe I was simply tired? It had been an exhausting week. Putting it down to pure imagination, I made to back out of my parking space. I turned my head to the left to see if it was clear and found myself looking at those breasts again through my side window.

My hand instinctively put the car back into park.

I stared, open-mouthed, like a kid who had just found his mother’s Victoria’s Secret catalog and could not avert his eyes. Slowly, I managed to raise them to meet hers, and she stared down at me with a frown, placing her closed fists on her hips like a pornographic impersonation of Wonder Woman.

I felt the heat rush to my face and the illogical feeling of guilt as if it were me that was doing wrong. My brain raced to make sense of it all. This was some kind of weird setup. Any second, she would scream rape…. Why? Who knows? I was just an Englishman in the USA, and in the sixteen years I’d lived here, one thing was for sure… Americans are just plain weird. Almost panicking, I shifted into reverse and started to back out.

She took a step back, lowering her arms. She raised two fingers and made a sign in the air. At that moment, my car chugged and died. What the hell? This crap only happened in movies as a lame plot device to increase the tension. And I’m telling you, I am really tense now. I tried to start it again. She stepped up to the window, and I pretended not to see her as the car showed no signs of life. I gave her fleeting glances with my peripheral vision as I pounded the accelerator and twisted that damn key repeatedly, but even the lights had gone out. The car was dead.

Finally, I looked up and, unable to open the windows, with great reluctance, opened the door. I am English. We do not respond the way others would to extraordinary events, and gripping it with both hands on the door so she could not force it wider, I said politely but with unease, Can I help you, Madam?

She narrowed her eyes, which I could now make out were a bright blue. I could only assume her words of reply were some form of American Spanish but with a very peculiar dialect, which I could not fathom. Of course, I now know that she was speaking an Athenian dialect of ancient Greek. I am sorry, I do not understand. I only speak English.

She said more words, and I looked bewildered and shrugged. She gestured at me aggressively and repeated the words.

Sorry, love, I don’t speak Espanola, I finally said in a long, drawn-out monotone.

Her face suddenly relaxed into a satisfied smile. Nor do I. Her smile widened across her thin lips, Well, not yet, anyway. I just needed a few more words to get your tongue.

Get my tongue? Weird!

She spoke clearly in an accent identical to my own. She was from London!

We both looked at each other in silence for a long while. I was desperate to keep my eyes upon hers and not let them fall lower. Something that is not easy for even the most stalwart of men. I finally broke the silence with a rather pathetic inquiry, Aren’t you cold?

She pondered this, then tilted her head once more. Well, I feel the cold, but if you mean does it cause me discomfort, then no, she replied in an off-hand manner. It is, however, quite inappropriate for you to look at me in a state of undress.

I beg your pardon? I was rather taken aback. It was not like I was invading her space.

She smiled and nodded. If you have anything with which I may cover myself, I may grant you that. She shrugged, then corrected herself, Well, I will, at least, make sure your penance is free of suffering. I stared at her in silent disbelief as the words spun in my head, and I looked for a rational response to what I could not be sure if it was a threat or not. If you have nothing, give me the garments you wear. I took that to be a threat.

I looked around to see if there was anyone else about, an accomplice or two, then back at her. I have no money, and there is nothing valuable in my car.

She frowned in annoyance at this. Do not insult me. Offerings are made at my temples, not to me personally. In a tone of exasperation, she sighed and stated, Now I am growing tired of this. Do you or do you not have something I may wear? Do not test me any further.

Another silent pause then I reached into the back seat of the car. I pulled out a large bulky coat. All I have is the old coat I use for yard work and DIY. I opened the door and handed out the tattered and stained item. It appeared to be somewhat offensive to her nostrils.

She wrinkled her nose at it, then at me, It is foul, but you may put that on me, she informed me.

Again, I stared, looked around, and said, Is this a joke? Then I thought I’d worked it out. Did Chris Patrick put you up to this? I would put nothing past that joker, I said, referring to one of my friends.

Her anger swiftly rose. I am not going to tolerate this insolence. Put that on me. Now.

My face fell, and confused, fear entered my eyes again. Slowly, I stepped out of the car, opened the coat, and held it before me. What else was I to do? What would you do in these circumstances? She looked at it and then back at me but did not move. What did she expect me to do?

Um, you need to lift your arms, I said bewilderedly.

She gave me a single nod and lifted her arms stiffly out from her sides. I raised my eyebrows, stepped to her side, slipped it over her right arm, and moved behind her. She flinched as I took her left wrist, then forced herself to relax and nodded for me to continue, which I did. With the coat over her arms, she wrapped it about herself. It was over large, for I was almost a foot taller and much broader. It hung to just above her knees. However, it became clear that both our comfort levels instantly rose.

My thanks, she said, giving me a single nod.

Do you need some kind of help? Would you like to call someone on my phone?

She pondered this as she studied my car once more, finally saying, While your language is now known to me, I still find your words confusing. Speak more plainly.

I laughed at this, but the flash of anger that returned to her face swiftly silenced me. Again, she calmed just as fast. Do you have a name?

Alex, Alex Bailey.

Why do you use it twice?

I don’t I…never mind …. It’s just Alex Bailey.

She looked back at my car. An interesting chariot you have, Alex Bailey. While not as attractive as the one I once owned, it does not need beasts of burden.

Well, I...

Can it fly? She asked quite seriously as she turned to face me.

It’s a car, I responded uneasily.

Can it return me to Olympus?

Olympus? I asked with obvious confusion.

She narrowed her eyes, You know who I am, do you not? At my blank expression, she reached up and felt her face. I am different, she said softly, then looked back up at me and stated firmly, I am Artemis.

Really? That’s nice, I replied.

Otherwise known as Diana, as the Romans called me, or Selene. No, still no recognition. She was trying her hardest not to lose her temper and, with only a modicum of frustration, said, Daughter of Zeus, sister of Apollo.

It pleased her that I finally showed some knowledge of her. Ah, so you are a Greek goddess! I smiled softly, wondering what hospital she possibly escaped from. It all makes sense now.

Does my father still rule on Mount Olympus? She was sure the answer was no, for she did not feel his existence.

Alas, no. He left there a long time ago, I said, hoping to placate her.

Her eyes narrowed, What year is this?

2022, I replied.

The year meant nothing to her, so she asked, How long have the gods been gone.

I shrugged. No idea, a few thousand years, I would guess.

Yet we are still revered. We are still loved and worshiped?

I shook my head carefully. Umm, I don’t…. A wave of despair came over her attractive face. My chariot cannot get you to Mount Olympus, but it could get you to a hospital.

Hospital?

Umm, an alchemist for sick people.

You mean an apothecary?

That’s the word.

Do I look sick to you? She scowled and turned away from me as tears came to her eyes, clearly ashamed to reveal this distress.

Well, my voice trailed off, but when she stared back at me, I said, I just want to help. There is something wrong here. You are talking kind of crazy. Threatening me and saying you’re a goddess.

She looked exasperated. If you fear me, then I pledge not to harm you, she remarked.

Well, that would be nice.

You really do not believe me that I am Artemis Agrotera? She questioned in a faint, barely audible voice. Her sudden mood swings became hard to follow.

"I believe you are a woman in trouble, and I would like